#Staring at you audience of one you know what this is like

[faithshouseofchaos]

hi i don't think this is a real request but for franco colapinto it's kinda cliche ikr (but i believe in your writing skills so)

older reader (u don't need to specific the age) who refuse to be with franco bc she thinks it's better for him to be with someone close his age, but ofc they're in love and franco is down bad for her even though she's kinda cruel sometimes

so angst with a happy end? or at least something realistic? idk and it's up to u to add other stuff! *oh and they're from the same country or foreigners etc*

“She calls me kidz bop” — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Word count 3.5k

Warnings — Angst, heavy makeouts allusion of smut

This isn’t as good as I thought it would be

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing

Franco watched as y/n stood talking to her fellow driver Something deep inside him wished that she gave him the same attention as she did the rest of them. It didn’t matter if they had feelings for each other. It also didn’t matter that she was so cruel to him and gave him nicknames like Kidz Bop, Teeny Bopper, or Rug Rat.

He didn’t mind the teasing or the nicknames, he could take it. He’s used to being teased by others but not by the one he’s falling for, and he didn’t want to admit it but a part of him knew he was slowly concluding that he loved her. Franco leaned against the garage wall, staring at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He continued to observe y/n’s body language. The way she stood with her arms crossed, the way she laughed at the other driver’s jokes, even the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was maddening.

Franco clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his frustration. He wanted to speak to her but he was uncertain of what to say. As he watched her, he noticed she was glancing his way. A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that she was looking his way. He felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and finally stepped forward.

As he approached, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He tried to act casually, his hands still in his pockets, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was racing. He cleared his throat, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/n turned her attention away from her co-drivers and looked at Franco, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what do you want?”

Franco swallowed hard, trying to ignore the coolness in her voice. He took a step closer, not caring that they had an audience, “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Y/n nodded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the garage. Once they were alone in a secluded area, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “What's on your mind, kidz bop?”

Franco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nickname. He knew it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, but it stung nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, gathering his courage. “I wanted to talk to you about us…”

Y/n’s expression remained neutral, but he could see a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, “What about us?”

Franco rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…if there’s ever a chance for us?”

Y/n let out a snort, “A chance? Kidz bop, you’re way too young for me. You need to find someone your age.” Franco's heart sank at her words, but he tried to hide his disappointment. “I don’t care about age. I just want to be with you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, very romantic. But I’m not interested in dating some kid who still has a curfew. I need someone more mature.” Franco clenched his fists in frustration, “I’m not a kid. I’m just as mature as any other driver out there.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure you are. I bet you still have a teddy bear in your bed and your mom still picks out your outfits.” Franco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t deny that he had a teddy bear, but he certainly hadn’t asked his mom for fashion advice since he was 12.

“I’m a grown man,” he protested, “Just because I’m a rookie doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Y/n leaned against the wall, still looking unimpressed. “Oh? Prove it then, Teeny Bopper. Show me how mature you are.”

Franco was determined to show her that he wasn’t just some naïve rookie. He took a step closer to her, his heart pounding. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden confidence. “Alright, I’m listening. Go ahead and impress me, rug rat.” Franco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could smell her perfume, a soft, musky scent that made his head spin.

He looked into her eyes, unflinching. “I’ll prove it by showing you that I’m serious about this. I’m not just some kid who doesn’t know what he wants. I know what I want, and it’s you.” Y/n’s expression softened just a bit. She was impressed by his directness, but still unconvinced. “You’re young, Franco. You don’t know what you want. You just think you do.”

Franco took another step closer to her. “I may be young, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m done with being treated like a kid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to give up until I get it.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried to maintain her cool facade. “You’re not going to give up, huh? You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

Franco smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. “I can be when I want something. And I want you.”

He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He was now standing so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. But she held her ground, refusing to let him see how her resolve was starting to crumble.

“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, kidz bop,” she teased, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice just before she walked away from him. Franco watched her walk away, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through his veins. He knew he had gotten to her this time, he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to give up, not until he had proven to her that he was serious. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t going to let her brush him off like some naive rookie.

Once again Franco found himself watching and observing y/n and this time was brought out of his thoughts by a large hand clapping him on the shoulder “You good there Franco?” Charles asked. Franco looked over at him and then back at y/n whose eyebrows were bunched up together and her lips in a thin tight line.

“Yeah I’m good,” Franco answered, looking down at his feet. Charles chuckled at Franco’s obvious lie. He followed Franco’s gaze to y/n, his smirk growing even more as he looked at her. “You have it bad don’t you?” Charles teased. Franco quickly shoved Charles’s arm off him as he gave him a nasty glare.

Charles cackled in response. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. How long are you gonna sit on your ass and not do something?” Charles said.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t,” Franco said, still stubbornly keeping his eyes on y/n.

“Which is?” Charles prompted.

“She’s too old for me,” Franco said. Charles’s jaw dropped.

“Bullshit! She’s what, 26? You’re 21! It’s not that big of an age difference, "he said.

“She thinks it is,” Franco said. Charles shook his head in disbelief at Franco’s stupidity.

“Goddamnit Franco. You’re a pretty handsome kid, why are you letting her have that much control over you? If you feel something for her then do something about it” Charles said.

Franco tore his eyes from y/n to look at Charles “There is something between us. But every time I try to talk to her about it, she shuts it down. Says that she’s too old for me and would rather I find someone my age” he confessed. Charles let out a scoff “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just running away because she doesn’t want to admit her feelings for you” he said.

Franco shook his head. “You don’t know that and besides she’s mean to me and she calls me kidz bop, teeny bopper, or rug rat.”

Charles rolled his eyes “Franco I’ve known y/n for much longer than you being mean to someone is her love language trust me the meaner she is to someone the more she cares for them. She calls me a pretty boy. She calls Fernando an old man. I've seen the way she looks at you. There’s no way she feels nothing.” Franco’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.

“W-what do you mean ‘the way she looks at me’” he asked.

Charles smirked again “I mean you’re constantly in her line of sight whenever you’re in a room. Anytime she’s near you, she always seems to be hyper-aware of it. I don’t think she’s as immune to your charms as she makes herself seem.”

As much as Franco wanted to believe what Charles was telling him it was too hard. He’s seen the way y/n talks to the other drivers. They weren’t like that.

“I get that your old ass has much more relationship experience than I do. But you just don’t understand” Franco muttered, refusing to look at Charles. Charles shook his head at Franco “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. If you’re gonna waste your opportunity with her then that’s your problem, not mine” he said before he sauntered off, leaving Franco by himself.

Franco stood there, his mind reeling from Charles's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that Charles was right about y/n. That she had feelings for him beneath all her harsh words and belittling nicknames. But he couldn't be sure.

Franco looked over to where y/n was still standing, her expression still tight and cold. He tried to muster up the courage to approach her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He was too overwhelmed by the possibility that she could feel something for him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever rejection came his way. Franco began to slowly make his way toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. With each step, he felt as though he was walking through mud, his legs refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice much softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush him off like she had so many times before.

“Fine. What do you want?” she asked, her voice as icy as ever. Franco swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had practiced all the things he wanted to say in his head, but now that he was standing in front of her, all of his words seemed to have vanished.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just wanted to talk to you about us." "I know we're colleagues, but there's something more there, isn't there?" he said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

She paused for a moment, her expression faltering for just a split second before her walls went back up. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, feigning indifference. Franco took a small step forward, closing the space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, making him heady with desire.

"The way you look at me. The way you always watch me. I know you feel it too. You're just too scared to admit it." Her breath caught in her throat as he neared. She tried to pretend that his words did not affect her, but he could see the subtle change in her breathing, the way her body seemed to gravitate towards him.

"Scared? I'm not scared of anything, least of all you," she retorted, hoping he didn't notice the waver in her voice. "Then prove it," he said, his voice suddenly low and intense. He was so close to her now that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to finally give in to the overwhelming amount of tension that hung in the air between them. But she forced herself to take a step back, pulling herself out of his reach. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Franco couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that shot through him as she pulled away. He knew he was getting under her skin, but she was still fighting him.

But he had a card he hadn't played yet.

“Then why is this so hard?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “If we're just colleagues, then it should be easy for you to turn me down. Right?”

Inwardly, she was cursing his stubbornness. But he was right, and she was losing the battle with herself. She had been trying so hard to keep her feelings locked away, to deny the attraction that was growing hotter and hotter each day.

She tried to come up with a witty retort, but her throat was dry, and her mind was fuzzy. The way he was looking at her, the way he was so sure of himself, it was chipping away at her defenses. He took another step closer, closing the gap between them again. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t just some one-sided thing. You feel it too.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body so close to hers. She thought about denying it, pushing him away once more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she did the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She melted.

It was as if all the tension and resistance she had built up just disappeared. She found herself leaning into him, her body drawn to his like a magnet.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the vulnerability and desire that she had tried so hard to hide. "Franco..." she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He could see the change in her eyes, the way they darkened with emotion.

He moved closer to her, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her against him. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear. "Say it. Say you want me." The heat of his body against hers combined with the huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, her body molding itself to his.

She took a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want you, Franco. Damn it, I want you." A rush of satisfaction and relief washed over him as he heard her words. He’d finally broken through her defenses, and now he had her exactly where he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her back.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he murmured against her neck. She let out a soft gasp as he touched her skin, her body arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She had tried to deny it for so long, but now that she had finally given in, it was like an unstoppable force of nature. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel him completely. He claimed her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his body pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and contour of her body. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been building between them was suddenly unleashed.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

She wanted more, so much more. She was drowning in the sensation of him, losing herself in the heat and the passion of their embrace. Franco pressed himself against her, trapping her between the wall and his body. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin.

He could feel her coming undone, her body growing more and more pliant against his. He could tell that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it was driving him insane. She let out a desperate gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. She couldn't think straight, her mind fuzzy with desire. The only thing that existed at that moment was the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his skin, and the way his hands sent sparks of pleasure dancing over her skin.

He continued to explore her body, his hands drifting down her sides, his fingertips tracing the edge of her waistband. He dipped his head lower, his lips trailing along her collarbone, then down her chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She whimpered and shivered beneath his touch, her body becoming a raw nerve of sensation. Her hips rocked against his, seeking more contact, more friction. She felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out.

He could feel her body reacting to his every touch, the way her hips moved against his, the way her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him closer. He could hear the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, the sound sending a flood of heat straight to his core.

He pulled away just long enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“God, I love it when you make those sounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The desire in his gaze, the rough rasp of his voice, it was too much for her. She reached up and pulled him back down to her, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss.

Her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of her desire for him, the need for him almost unbearable. He met her kiss with urgency, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her completely. He pressed himself against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers.

He let his hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her body flush against his. She could feel every muscle, every contour, every inch of him. She couldn't get enough, she wanted to be even closer.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him tight against her, her tongue exploring his mouth with feverish desperation. He pressed himself harder against her, his body desperate to get even closer to hers. He let his hands slide up to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her body arching into his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked and sucked at her skin, his stubble sending sparks of pleasure dancing across her nerve endings. He found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, and he lingered there, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body trembling against his, moans and gasps escaping from her lips.

He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and collarbone. She was completely undone, her mind consumed with nothing but him and the pleasure he was causing her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body writhing against his.

Each flick of his tongue and each press of his lips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, stoking the fire that burned within her. He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of her - flushed and breathless, completely at his mercy. He wanted to claim her completely, to make her his in every way possible.

He lowered her down just a little bit, his body still pressed close to hers, and he looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. Her hair was tousled, and her shirt wrinkled where his hands had been. She looked wrecked already and they'd barely even started.

She met his gaze, her own just as hungry and intense. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them now.

[fgumi]

ꕥ found me; — heeseung drabble, wc: 1.2k, genre: fluff

the first few rehearsals were all business. the choreography for “bite me” was intense, filled with complex and intimate moves that required you and heeseung to work in close proximity. one move, in particular, stood out—the part where heeseung had to lean in, resting his chin in your hand, staring deeply into your eyes. it was supposed to be smooth and natural, an intimate connection that drew the audience in. but the first few times, it felt anything but.

heeseung approached the move with visible hesitation, his expression a mix of focus and nerves. as he reached out and your hand came up to meet his face, you could feel the slight tremor in his movements, the subtle stiffness that came from trying too hard not to make it awkward.

“sorry, i think i keep missing the timing,” heeseung muttered, his cheeks tinged pink as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “it just feels… weird.”

you offered a reassuring smile, though your own nerves were equally frayed. “it’s okay. let’s just try it again, slower this time.”

he nodded, and you both reset your positions. as the music played softly in the background, heeseung moved closer, his breath hitching slightly when his chin met your palm. for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath with you. the proximity was jarring, the touch unexpectedly intimate in a way neither of you had anticipated.

heeseung pulled back quickly, eyes darting away. “sorry, again. i’ll get it right.”

you laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “it’s fine. it’s new for both of us, you know?”

as the days wore on, the awkwardness slowly began to melt away. the rehearsals were still full of corrections and adjustments, but each time you repeated that move, the tension lessened, replaced by a growing familiarity. it wasn’t just about getting the timing right anymore; it was about the small moments in between—the shared glances, the quiet apologies, and the lingering smiles when you finally nailed the synchronization.

one afternoon, after finishing up a particularly tough practice, you both slumped against the mirrored wall, too tired to care about maintaining personal space. heeseung was scrolling through his phone, and you caught a glimpse of a familiar game logo—league of legends.

“you play league?” you asked, breaking the silence. the question was casual, but it was enough to catch his attention.

heeseung looked up, surprised but smiling. “yeah, i do. helps me relax… well, sort of. i get pretty into it. what about you?”

you grinned, leaning your head back against the mirror. “valorant, mostly. i’m more into shooters.”

his eyes widened in recognition, and suddenly, the awkwardness of rehearsals felt miles away. “no way, you play valorant? i’ve been meaning to get better at that, but i usually end up sticking to league.”

you laughed, finding his enthusiasm refreshing. “you should play with me sometime. i can show you the ropes, or, you know, carry you if you’re really bad.”

heeseung scoffed, but his smile was playful. “you’re talking a big game. we’ll see who carries who.”

from that day on, gaming became a constant topic between the two of you, a shared interest that made the long hours of practice feel lighter. it started with playful banter, comparing your best plays and laughing at your worst mistakes. then it evolved into gaming sessions after practice, swapping between league and valorant as naturally as you swapped dance moves.

one evening, after an exhausting rehearsal, you both ended up lingering in the practice room, neither wanting to head home just yet. heeseung set up his laptop, glancing at you with a competitive glint in his eyes.

“wanna play?” heeseung asked, his eyes sparkling with the challenge. “or are you too scared to lose again?”

you scoffed, setting up your own laptop. “please, i’m just warming up. but let’s switch to valorant after this—i need to show you what real skill looks like.”

the studio filled with the sound of keys clacking and the occasional outbursts of laughter as you played, exchanging playful taunts whenever one of you made a particularly impressive move. there was no more awkwardness now, just an easy camaraderie that felt as natural as breathing.

“can’t believe you let me get that kill,” heeseung teased, nudging you with his shoulder.

“yeah, yeah, enjoy it while it lasts,” you grinned back, already plotting your comeback in the next match.

but it wasn’t just about the games; it was about every moment in between—the lingering touches during practice, the shared snacks, and the way your smiles felt warmer when you were together.

when the announcement came that the choreography would change, heeseung’s frustration was palpable. he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped tightly as he listened to the explanation. the air in the room was tense, filled with murmurs and dissatisfied glances.

heeseung’s voice cut through the silence, filled with a quiet intensity. “the whole point of the dance was to show a dynamic between two sides—the push and pull, the tension. the female dancers add to the concept, not take away from it. they make it feel more complete.”

he hesitated for a moment, glancing at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t just frustration—it was fear. fear of losing something that had grown between the two of you, something fragile and unspoken that the choreography had nurtured. his words were about the dance, but you could tell his heart was elsewhere. he wasn’t just losing the performance; he was losing the reason to keep seeing you day after day.

“it’s not just about the dance,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “this isn’t fair to us.”

the staff exchanged glances, but their expressions were resolute. the change was happening, whether they liked it or not.

heeseung’s gaze flicked to you, and you met his eyes, sharing a silent understanding of his dismay. you gave him a small smile, already coming to terms that the change was inevitable.

as the meeting adjourned, you tried to slip away quietly, not wanting to dwell on the disappointment. but heeseung caught up to you in the hallway, his grip gentle yet firm on your wrist.

“wait,” he said, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “i don’t want this to stop. i don’t want…us to stop.”

you blinked, surprised by his sudden confession. heeseung had always been outgoing, but this was different—a raw honesty you hadn’t seen from him before.

you laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “you know this doesn’t change anything, right? i’m not going anywhere. not until you finally beat me in valorant.”

heeseung smiled, a blush creeping up his neck. “so, you’re saying i have a chance?”

you shrugged playfully. “i mean, if you keep practicing…maybe.”

he laughed, the sound warm and bright, and for a moment, it felt like everything would be okay. “then i guess i better get practicing. can’t let you win forever.”

you walked out together, side by side, the changes to the choreography feeling like a small hurdle in comparison to what you had found in each other. and that was more than enough.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: i miss the original "bite me" choreo. it was glorious... all those women were so talented and beautiful. ✧ comments are appreciated! ✧ !nanamlist

[caterina-celestia]

Unfamiliar Feelings

Pairing: Dmitry x Lane.

Content Warning (18+): This work contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content. It is intended for adult audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. By proceeding, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older.

Summary: A restless night at the abandoned station turns into a passionate one as a worried Lane finds herself in Dmitry's room in the middle of the night, tending to his wounds.

Sometimes, silence and the quietness of the night are a blessing. After a long, noisy, and busy day, it feels like you've been running at full speed, waiting eagerly to reach the finish line. You welcome the calm with open arms, surrendering to it, allowing it to carry you away from the problems of this corrupted world, if only for a few hours.

But sometimes, that same calm and quiet become your worst nightmare. You'd rather be surrounded by crowds and noise than alone inside your own head. Alone with your thoughts—the thoughts which never shut up. The harder you try to silence them, the worse they become. It feels like your mind has become a prison, and you're trapped inside it. There’s no prison worse than your own mind, no one knows better how to torture you more than yourself. After all, your mind knows your deepest fears and weaknesses. It’s where your demons hide.

The quietness of the night was never easy on me. My nights at the base usually ended with my pillow soaked wet in tears, memories of home leaving me painfully homesick. I never thought I'd miss home. My childhood wasn't easy at home but my days at the base taught me that there are always worse days. 

And I was right. Because this night beats every single night spent at the base. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so many emotions at once. It’s overwhelming, and I feel like I can’t breathe. Ever since I regained some of my memories and emotions, I’ve been struggling to control them. It’s like my feelings have intensified, and I don’t know how to deal with them anymore. Especially after being numb for so long. The numbness and emptiness weren’t easy, but it was certainly easier to deal with than this.

When did I start caring so much about losing someone? When did I start worrying about someone else not being able to fall sleep? When did I start worrying about him? Why am I thinking about him at four am in the early morning? Why am I so afraid of losing him? When did I get attached?

Was it when he gave up his last breath to save me under the icy water? Or was it when we were stranded in that lost base, relying on each other to survive? Or was it when he threw himself between me and the infected, taking the bite to protect me?

I don’t know when it happened. But what I do know is that I’m awake again tonight, completely deprived of sleep because I’m terrified of waking up to my worst nightmare—staring into monstrous, empty eyes instead of his icy blue ones. The thought chills me to the bone. And suddenly, I feel so cold.

Your hand is cold, I hear his voice inside my head.

Anna and Kira slept soundly beside me, their breathing steady and rhythmic. I envied their peace, their ability to find solace even in this twisted world. I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days, and the exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones, making my limbs heavy and my mind foggy. But I couldn’t let myself rest, not fully. Not when the fear was so palpable, so close.

Then I heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible sound coming from the room down the hall. My body tensed, my senses sharpening. It wasn’t loud enough to wake Anna or Kira, but it was enough to rouse me from my restless thoughts. Slowly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. I crept to the door, my heart pounding in my chest, and peeked into the dark hallway.

The sound came again, a low grunt, followed by a faint rustling. Something wasn’t right. My first thought was that something happened to Dmitry, and without hesitating, I moved toward the source, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor. 

I reached the room where Dmitry had been staying since his recovery began. The door was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I hesitated. What if it wasn’t safe? What if something had gone wrong with Dmitry’s recovery? The thought made my heart skip a beat, but I pushed it aside. Dmitry was strong, stronger than anyone I knew. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

My eyes found him immediately. Dmitry stood by the bed, his back to me. He was shirtless, his broad, scarred shoulders and back illuminated by the candlelight as he fumbled with something in his hands. As my gaze traveled down, I noticed the gauze wrapped around his arms and torso, stained with dark, dried blood.

I gasped softly, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. Dmitry’s head snapped up, and he turned to face me, his expression a mix of surprise and something unreadable. I immediately averted my eyes, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I—” I stammered, stepping back toward the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

“Lane” Dmitry said, his voice low and calm, but I could hear the tension beneath it. “It's alright.”.

I paused, my hand on the doorframe, my heart racing. But then I remembered the blood, and concern overrode my embarrassment. I turned back to face him, my eyes darting to the gauze. “You’re bleeding,” I said, my voice soft but filled with worry. “Are you… okay?”

Dmitry looked down at himself, then back at me, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said, though the weariness in his voice suggested otherwise. “Just need to change the gauze. Usually, Anna helps, but she hasn’t been sleeping well because of me, so…” He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but I could see the strain in his movements, the exhaustion that mirrored my own.

“I can help,” I offered quickly, stepping further into the room. My voice was steady, but inside, I was anything but. The idea of touching him, of being so close, sent my heart into a wild, erratic rhythm, but I couldn’t ignore the need to help him. “If you want,” I added, my tone softer, more tentative.

Dmitry looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge something. Finally, he nodded. “Alright” he said quietly, turning his back to me again. 

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves as I approached him. I picked up the fresh gauze from the table, my fingers trembling slightly. As I reached out to unwind the old bandages, my eyes were drawn to the scars that marred his back—deep, ragged lines that told stories I didn’t want to imagine. I hesitated, my fingers hovering just above his skin, afraid of causing him pain.

But Dmitry didn’t flinch or pull away. “They don’t hurt,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he could read my thoughts. “Not anymore.”

My breath caught in my throat as I carefully touched the scars, my fingers barely brushing against his skin. The contact was light, almost reverent, as if I was afraid of breaking something fragile. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, I began to gently unwrap the old gauze, my movements slow and deliberate.

As I worked, Dmitry remained silent, his breathing steady but deep, almost as if he were holding back something. The room felt charged, every slight movement, every brush of fingers against skin, seemed to echo in the silence between us. His piercing blue eyes watching me closely whenever I found myself infront of him, causing my fingers to shake, making me feel even more nervous. 

When the old bandages were finally removed, I couldn’t help but pause, my gaze tracing the fresh wounds beneath. They weren’t as bad as I’d feared, but they were still raw, a stark reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for the new gauze. As I began to wrap it around his torso, my fingers brushed against his skin again, and this time, I didn’t pull away as quickly. Dmitry’s body was warm beneath my touch, his muscles tense but unyielding. There was a quiet strength in him, even now, and it made my heart ache.

I found myself focusing on the rhythm of my movements, the methodical wrapping of the gauze, anything to keep my mind from spiraling. But it was impossible to ignore the intimacy of the moment, the way my fingers seemed to memorize the feel of him—each scar, each line of muscle beneath his skin.

Finally, when the gauze was secure, I allowed my hands to linger for just a moment longer, my fingers lightly tracing one of the scars on his back. The gesture was almost instinctual, an unconscious need to soothe, to comfort. But as soon as I realized what I was doing, I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

Dmitry stiffens, and I freeze. I’ve crossed a line. But then, he turns to face me. His eyes, usually so guarded, are dark now, unreadable. I try to step back, but I bump into the closet behind me. Before I can lose my balance, his arm snakes around my waist, catching me.

The world stills. His grip tightens, pulling me closer, pressing me against the warmth of his chest. My breath catches as our eyes lock. The air between us is charged, pulsing with a tension that has been building for so long. Too long.

His smoldering eyes drop to my lips “Lane,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, rough with restraint.

My pulse races, my heart pounding as I lean in, drawn to him like gravity. His gaze darkens, and for a second, time seems to stop.

Then, as if we’ve both reached our breaking point, we collide.

His lips crash against mine with a force that sends sparks through me. The kiss is hungry, desperate, fueled by everything we’ve been holding back. His hand sliding up my back, pulling me impossibly closer. My hands tangle in his hair, gripping tightly, as if letting go would mean losing him forever. 

Dmitry growls low in his throat, deepening the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that sends my mind spinning. I can feel the raw intensity in every touch, the unspoken emotions finally breaking free, pouring into the space between us. It’s a kiss filled with all the things we haven’t said—all the fear, the need, the longing.

I lose myself in it, in him, as his hands roam my body, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch. His mouth leaves mine, trailing down my jaw, my neck, hot and breathless. He groans taking in my scent, before returning to claim my lips again. 

His commanding possessive hands and body push me backwards as his kisses intensify, he slams me against the closet, causing a loud creak to echo throughout the whole building. We abruptly stop and stare into each other's eyes breathless as the realization of what just happened weighs in. 

I swallow hard as I stare into his dark, hungry and feral eyes pining me against the closet with their intensity. And I suddenly feel like a prey trapped between his large muscular arms. The warmth of his skin and the smell of his scent making me dizzy and lightheaded. My heart is beating so fast that I hear it ringing in my ears, and heat rushes to my cheeks as his eyes filled with unspoken longing and need drop down to my lips again. 

No man has ever stared at me like that. No man has ever wanted me like that. And no one has ever made me feel so wanted, so craved, like this before. My whole life, I always felt unwanted. It all started with my mother, followed by a long chain of failed relationships. Now this chain is broken by Dmitry as he stares at me in a way that sends chills and delicious sensations through my body. I don't know how to handle this - being wanted. But I love these unfamiliar overwhelming feelings this time.

I swallow hard and barely manage to say "I should probably go" staring deeply into his intense blue eyes "You should..." He says, moving closer again and catching my lips in a deep slow kiss, savoring me, one last time. Then, with visible effort, he pulls himself away from me. 

"Go... Before I kiss you again...". 

[heartforbangtan]

The only exception | 1

Series Summary: What are the consequences of having your first kiss with your best friend?

Pairing: Park Jimin X Female Reader 

Genre:  Dancer AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Mutual Pining 

Chapter Count: 1 /? (ongoing) 

Word count: 4k+

Content Warnings: anxiety attacks

Tag list

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You got me sippin' on something I can't compare to nothing I've ever known, I'm hoping That after this fever I'll survive  The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez 

Current days 

Seoul, South Korea

“Park, you'll be up in 10 minutes”

Jimin hears from his dance instructor as he sits in his dressing room, waiting to perform. He looks in the mirror – his face looks tired, but he needs to give it his all up there on stage, no matter how tired he is.

Agreeing with the instructor, Jimin checks to see if everything is okay with his clothes. The instructor is still at the dressing room door.

“This is your last performance of this season, please do your best.” Jimin hears the man speaking, but tries not to absorb the meaning of the words.

It was always like this. Constantly being held accountable for perfection, as if he didn't already deliver something good enough every time he performed. Deep down, Jimin knew he had gotten himself into this. It wasn't the instructor's fault or the audience's fault for demanding too much. It was only his fault, for having set his standards so high and for having suffered so much to maintain something that is practically impossible to maintain. He’s tired, but he can't stand the idea of ​​failing at something, of not always giving his best.

Jimin sits in front of a mirror in the dressing room while the man stares at him in the mirror, waiting for confirmation from him after his speech. Jimin nods again, silently, praying that he will leave him alone in these last few minutes before the performance. The instructor pats the boy on the shoulder and gives a small smile before walking out the door.

Jimin takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders. He needs to concentrate and not focus on what he just heard, so he can do his work without his thoughts getting in the way.

He twists his neck from side to side to crack it. The pain in his neck and shoulder still bothers him, despite the medicine and compresses.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror's reflection. And his face doesn't look pleasant looking at him from the front like that.

Jimin is lost.

When did things become like this?

When he goes up on stage in his all-black outfit, Jimin forgets about all the problems that exist and everything that is bothering him. He hears the voices calling his name in unison and his skin crawls. A feeling that he can't compare to anything else. The only time he is truly happy is here.

He just focuses on the sound of the piano that starts playing, alerting him to start dancing.

And that's how he's been trying not to think about how he no longer sees meaning and purpose in his life. Trying to fool himself with each passing day, with each pain he feels and with each request for more and more perfection.

You sigh heavily and lean back in your chair, stretching. It's almost lunchtime and you're starving.

Before you could get up from your chair to go to lunch early, your boss hurriedly arrived at your desk. You know the way she's acting, and it only means one thing: a new advertising contract for the company.

You take a deep breath and think that at least there will be a distraction to take you out of this endless wave of regrets.

You’re already smiling when she pulls up a chair and sits closer to your desk. Even though she’s your boss, she’s also become a friend, sharing lunches and friday nights after work. So when she comes in excited about a new project, you can’t help but be excited too.

“This well-known agency hired us to advertise one of their dancers.” your boss says with a smile and continues. “And I think you're perfect for what they're asking for, so I've already given them your contact details. This week they're going to schedule a meeting so we can sort everything out.”

You listen carefully and are happy to know that she trusts your work so much that she assigned you directly, without even talking to you first.

“What is the name of the agency?”

“Hybe! Can you believe it?“ Minah continues talking about how happy she was that the company had been recognized by Hybe, which is such a big agency, but you can no longer hear what she was saying.

Your head spins slightly and you feel like you're losing your balance, even though you're sitting in your chair. You try with all your might to focus your eyes on Minah's as she pours all her happiness into you. And you pray that she doesn't notice how disoriented you are by this information.

It was obvious that Hybe had a lot of dancers and just because you could have been assigned to work with any of them didn't mean it had to be him.

“Here, I'll show you a video of their dancer. He's amazing, you have no idea!” Minah was really excited.

She played around on her phone for a few seconds and then pressed play on a video to show you. And the confirmation you needed came like a bucket of cold water. On the screen was a video of Jimin performing on stage. He looked incredible, as always. You had no doubt about that. The black outfit, his hair that was now blond, his dance moves, everything was in perfect harmony. Jimin looked like an angel dancing.

“His name is Jimin. I'm already in love!”

Hearing his name like that was like a knife had been stabbed through your chest.

Your paths went in different directions. You graduated in advertising and continued working in that field, while Jimin decided to study dance at a college far from where you lived. A lot of things happened between you two…

And now you live in Seoul. The same capital that is home to his company.

You hadn't officially cut ties, but a lot had happened between the two of you. It made you sad, sadder than you'd like to admit. Plus, it hurt more and more to see pictures of him with new friends. To know that he was meeting new people and that maybe you weren't missed as much anymore. And you knew that maybe it wasn't healthy to think that way, but you couldn't stop thinking about it.

You know. Deep down you know. Even though you try not to think about it so much and always change the subject when it comes up.

You know that between the two of you it was never just friendship. You also know that maybe it all started on that damn day you decided to kiss. And you also know that the two of you avoid this subject.

Unfortunately, you're too much of a coward to face it and question it. You never had the courage to ask Jimin if he really liked you, or if he wanted something more. To this day you don't know what all that meant to Jimin.

You give Minah your best fake smile and she seems to buy it, still excited about all the news.

“When will be the meeting with them?”

Minah finally comes out of her cell phone trance to look at you.

“Tomorrow!”

You would have less time than you expected to prepare for your meeting again.

It had been a few months since you had stopped following Jimin's performances and news about his life. It was better this way. If you wanted to finally move on, you couldn't stay stuck in this, following his every step every day.

It was a hellish day at work.

When you woke up in the morning you were absolutely certain that it was all just a nightmare and that you wouldn't have to work with Jimin, of all the people in the world.

But your happiness was short-lived when you saw the message on your cell phone, sent a few hours ago.

Best chef 10:44 PM: Hey, I gave your contact to Jimin, okay?? Try to make friends with him, xoxo 😉.

You tried to keep calm by looking at the other unread message you had on your phone.

Unknown Number 03:11AM: We need to talk.

You didn't even need to open the message to know who that number was from that wasn't saved in your contact list. Your eyes closed tightly and you fell back onto the bed with your face buried in the pillow.

You weren't ready to deal with this now. And maybe you never would be ready. Jimin was a sensitive subject in your life. Never in your entire adolescence did you imagine that there would come a day when you would be separated and avoiding each other. Much less did you imagine that you wouldn't even have his contact saved in your list anymore.

By the time the water from the shower hit your body, you had already accepted the reality that you would have to talk to Jimin. If you were going to have to work together, you might as well start interacting. You didn't want this to ruin all your years of hard work. You valued this job and all the opportunities Minah had given you.

As soon as you entered the office, your eyes were drawn straight to the glass-walled meeting room. There he was. Even from the back and with his different hair, you could recognize him. You felt your legs lose their strength and all the courage and determination you had gathered during the morning were gone in the blink of an eye.

Before anyone could see you and say good morning, you ran to the nearest bathroom and locked yourself in. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your breath was getting short. You couldn't afford to have a panic attack in the middle of your shift. You couldn't.

However, as with any other panic attack, the more you think about it, the more you get into it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you gripped the edge of the sink to keep yourself upright. Your face was red and tears were already filling your eyes, threatening to fall. You thought you had already gotten over that phase of shaking every time Jimin was possibly near or in the same room as you. Apparently the wound was much deeper than you imagined.

The minutes passed by quickly while you were still frozen in the same position, with cold tears streaming down your face. You saw them running down and falling into the sink, not having the courage to look at your own state in the mirror again. You couldn't recognize yourself in those moments.

Outside the bathroom, you could already hear the office getting busier with the arrival of all the employees. You thanked God for having arrived early today, still having a few extra minutes to compose yourself without being late for work.

You took one last deep breath and searched with trembling hands for the bag that you had just thrown on the toilet when you entered the bathroom. You saw on your cell phone that it had already been 15 minutes since the time you arrived.

After taking a few breaths and wiping away your tears, you left the bathroom still a little shaky. You tried to walk silently to your desk, but your coworker could see the expression on your face.

“Good morni-Jesus! It looks like you saw a ghost.” Hana said laughing through her nose and you forced a giggle. This was not a time for jokes.

“Good morning. I think breakfast didn't suit me well’ You lied, sitting at your desk, dropping your bag and turning on your computer.

You didn't have the audacity to look into the meeting room to see if Jimin was still there. But the way you were feeling, you could almost certainly tell that he was still there. Either way, the meeting wouldn't have ended so quickly for him to have already left.

As soon as the computer turned on, you relaxed a little because you had something to distract yourself with, other than thinking about his imminent presence in the same room as you. However, your peace lasted only a few minutes, because soon Hana was already bringing up the subject you most wanted to avoid in your entire existence.

“Have you seen our new client?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Hm, not yet.“ You tried not to give it much importance, but she continued.

“I only saw him from afar, but wow” she made a dramatic pause and you were forced to look at her face. If the situation wasn't like that you would probably laugh at her expression.”He's gorgeous! And he has a beautiful ass!” Hana said more quietly and laughed, putting her hand over her mouth.

You almost choked on what she said. Your eyes widened for a few seconds. You quickly turned your face to the computer screen and pretended to open some tabs to work. No, seriously, this is not the time to think about that.

“I really didn't see it.”Again you tried to show that you weren't paying much attention to the situation.

“As soon as he leaves that room you have to take a look.” She said and you agreed silently, finally putting an end to this conversation that despite being short, was torturous.

She couldn't even imagine how much you didn't want to have to "take a look" at him, but you will certainly be forced to do so. For work reasons!

It was obvious that everyone already knew he was here. What they didn't know was that you were already assigned to work with him. And even worse, that you had known him for years…

Jimin was an unresolved part of your life that you didn't go around telling everyone as soon as you met them. The person closest to you in that office was your boss, Minah. But even she didn't know about your history with him. After all, what good would it do you to tell her about it? You don't even talk about it with your best friends, only with your psychologist.

Focusing on the tasks that were to be done, you tried to forget the tremor that still roamed your body, making your fingers sweat and your feet get cold from time to time.

You don't know how much time has passed since you sat down to work and entered your own world, but apparently it was enough time for the meeting to get going. You were forced to look in the direction of the meeting room when you heard movement coming from there. From the door of the room you see Minah with half of her body outside calling you. Your whole body freezes. You didn't want to participate in that meeting, but it was inevitable.

A few more colleagues head into the room to participate in this part of the meeting. And you thank God that you don't have to go into that room alone and be the center of everyone's attention.

As soon as you took a step towards the room, your feet felt like they were walking on clouds, and not in a good way. It was like you were going to lose your balance and fall at any moment, the environment getting further away from you with each passing second. You knew you were about to have another panic attack, but you really couldn't afford that to happen now.

When you entered the room, everyone was chatting casually, in what seemed like a short break. Minah was sitting down and directing the chair you should sit next to her at the table.

“Y/n! I just found out that you two already knew each other before. That's amazing. Why didn't you tell me before? “ Minah says in a cheerful tone and it almost makes you want to run away.

He told her about you.

Your stomach churns and the room seems to get smaller around you.

You smile at Minah and greet everyone in the room as you sit down at the circle of tables.

“Yes, we were... friends back in school” you feel the word “friends” weigh heavy on your tongue and hope no one noticed that.

Your eyes lift to look directly at Jimin, who was already analyzing you from across the table. His face shows nothing when he sees you. For a moment, you feel angry and want to yell at him, tell him to react in some way when he sees you, any way. So that it doesn't seem like you're the only one affected by his presence, as if you're the only one who has experienced all these feelings all these years. But you know that you can't demand that of him. If you haven't moved on in all these years, the responsibility is completely yours.

‘That's great. We don't need to start with the formalities then, let's get straight to the point.”

Minah opens a PowerPoint projected on the wall and begins to explain what the company offers and how things work. She also explains how you will fit into it and asks you to give a brief introduction of what your job entails.

You know Jimin isn't looking at you any differently than the others in the room, but you still feel uncomfortable, as if he can see through your skin and into your mind. Despite your nervousness, you manage to maintain your composure and present your work satisfactorily.

The meeting finally ends after a few more minutes of conversation and you couldn't be more relieved. The only thing you wanted at that moment was to escape his presence and gaze.

“I think we'll make a great team.” the agency manager says happily at the end of the meeting.

“I agree.” Minah and the manager shake hands, which are then passed to you.

Somehow, you managed to avoid shaking hands with Jimin in the middle of all the people in the room. You excused yourself and said you had to go to the bathroom and took the opportunity to leave. Everyone still stayed inside the room, chatting casually, without rushing. As soon as you stepped out of the room, your body shivered.

You only managed to take a breath outside the room before someone caught up with you. Your thoughts were so disorganized that you didn't even notice the person following you out of the room.

But there would be no way you wouldn't recognize his presence, even if a thousand years had passed.

“I need to talk to you.” Jimin holds your wrist for a brief moment, lightly, and then lets go. Your face turns to him with a frightened expression.

“Not now, please.“ your expression is of pain. And you are feeling pain. In your chest.

You were alone in the hallway that led to the meeting room. The last thing you wanted was for your coworkers to see you whispering in a hallway. You made to leave, but Jimin continued.

“Why didn't you answer my message?” Jimin asks, getting straight to the point.

You were forced to look at him. You hadn't realized that you hadn't replied to his message. The wave of panic was so big that you didn't even open the message, you just looked at it in the notification bar. Your mind worked quickly to come up with a plausible response.

“ I didn't see.” You say quickly, looking away from him and ready to return to your table once more.

“Wait!“ once again that hand on your wrist, just rubbing the fingers gently, like a touch of silk.

This time your body reacts quickly and you pull your hand away from his touch. You didn't want him to touch you, that was for people who were more intimate. And you weren't close anymore. You could even risk saying that you didn't know each other anymore…

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by his gaze, breaking it a little more without you knowing.

“ What?” you look at his face, hoping Jimin will quickly say what he needs so you can get back to work.

The silence and tension between you is palpable. If you weren't in the workplace, you would probably explode at this moment.

You can't stand being around him like this.

“Please, give me a chance to talk to you“ Jimin speaks softly, pleadingly.

You're surprised by what he says. You expected him to brush it off again, say it was nothing, and pretend everything was fine.

It seems that some things change with time.

You still analyze him for a few seconds, looking for any form of joke behind his words.

You need to answer it soon because people are starting to leave the room.

“Okay, I will”  you agree, but in reality you want to run away from him.

Or beat him up until he understands that you haven't been truly happy for years, and it's all his fault. But that's for another time.

Jimin nods and finally lets you go, watching your back as you walk around the office.

You return silently to your desk. Everyone is busy with their tasks, as if nothing had happened. And indeed, nothing had happened. Only to you.

You were the only one who was shaken by this situation. The only one who seemed to be hiding in a dark shadow, without the strength to get up.

The rest of the day passes slowly. You don't see Jimin anymore that day and you don't know whether to be grateful or not.

However, you weren't able to get Jimin out of your head even if you wanted to. He was the topic of every conversation with your colleagues, and even with your boss, who wanted to go over some information with you.

When you got home at night, it felt like all your energy had been drained from your body. And your work hadn't even been that tiring. It was all emotional exhaustion.

You feel embarrassed and wonder how you're going to tell your psychologist that no, you're not over him yet. And that maybe you haven't made any progress, even with all the conversations you've had about it.

Practice is very different from theory.

Sitting at the kitchen table with wet hair while eating pre-made pasta made in the microwave, you open Jimin's message.

He hasn't sent anything since. You need to take a sip from the generous glass of wine you poured yourself before you write anything to him.

You 08:35PM: Yes. Let's talk Does Friday at 7pm work for you?

Another sip and a bite of pasta. Jimin sees it and your heart races. How fast!

Another sip of wine. To swallow the pasta.

Jimin 08:36PM: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

Shit. You hadn't thought of that.

It takes you a few seconds to think of somewhere that is close enough that you can escape quickly if something happens.

You 08:38PM: Maybe at the coffee shop down the street from the office? Jimin 08:39PM: Sounds good to me

Something about this phone conversation didn't feel right. Maybe it was the formal tone you were using, or maybe it was the way you no longer knew how to talk to each other.

You replied with another message confirming and left your phone out of sight on the table so you could finish eating your meal.

The food was starting to go down your throat with some difficulty after that conversation. You were already starting to think about all the possibilities of this meeting, how it would go, what exactly you would talk about. This wasn't doing your mind any good.

Maybe you wouldn't sleep tonight.

You twirl the pen between your fingers as you look at the notebook in front of you, searching for the right words to write down what you just heard.

Minah leads the meeting with the marketing team, including you. The discussions involve what each person's role will be now with this new contract with Hybe.

“Y/n, I need you to work directly with Jimin” Minah directs to you.

Your gaze is neutral and not surprised. Somehow you have already accepted this reality and no longer try to fight it. Maybe you were dead inside.

You nod and Minah continues.

“You will do everything according to his preferences. I need you to work together on this.” she emphasizes and you agree.

Internally you are screaming. You know that working with any other client would be like this too, but something about her words and about Jimin makes you angry.

You didn't want to have to take orders from him, or have to work alongside him.

You wonder what kind of sick joke the universe wanted to play on you.

The week goes by faster than you would like. All you wanted was the weekend to rest, but that would also mean getting through the day you and Jimin were going to meet. And you didn't want to meet him.

A/N: aaaa finally the first chapter of The Only Exception. I hope you like it as much as I like this story. My idea is to follow the line of: one chapter in the present, another chapter in the past, to explain how everything happened between them. Did that get confusing? I hope not lmao

© heartforbangtan 2024. All rights reserved.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

A Magical Moment at Comic-Con

X Men Masterlist

The hall buzzes with excitement. At the Comic-Con, the day's highlight is happening: James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, two of the biggest stars, are on stage talking about their roles in the "X-Men" films. The audience is hanging on their every word as the actors joke and interact with the fans. James grins while Michael responds in his typically calm and charming manner.

You stand backstage, observing them from a distance. The whole situation makes you smile. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your chest, not only because of the upcoming surprise but also because of the news you’re about to share. Only the backstage crew knows that you’re about to step onto the stage. The fans are unaware, and, most importantly, James and Michael have no idea.

"All set?" asks one of the technicians backstage, glancing at you.

You nod nervously, take a deep breath, and wait for the right moment. James is telling a funny story from the filming that has the audience laughing. At just the right moment, you give the technician a signal, and he lets you through.

With a quick step, you sneak onto the stage, the noise of the crowd almost drowning out your footsteps. Some fans in the front rows notice you and start cheering. The sounds seem to catch James and Michael's attention, but they haven’t seen you yet.

Suddenly, a louder cheer erupts, and both men turn around simultaneously. Their faces are pure astonishment as they see you. James’s eyes widen, and Michael immediately smiles, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"What are you doing here?" James asks, surprised but with a hint of joy in his voice. He immediately comes over, hugs you, and pulls you closer. Michael stands there, laughing softly as he watches the two of you before joining in and hugging you too.

"This is a surprise," Michael says, his voice deep and warm. "I thought you were coming tomorrow."

You grin mischievously and look at the two of them. "Well, I thought I’d surprise you."

The crowd cheers even louder as James gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and Michael gently strokes your back. The fans seem absolutely thrilled to see you on stage, knowing about your relationship. Rumors had long circulated, but it was no surprise when you made it official.

James looks at you curiously, his brow furrowed. "There’s more to this, isn’t there?"

You swallow and laugh nervously. The moment you’ve been imagining for so long has arrived. You look at both men lovingly and take a deep breath. "Yes... actually, there’s something else I wanted to tell you."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "Oh? What could that be?"

The crowd falls silent as they sense something big is coming. You feel the tension in the air, the anticipatory thrill. You take their hands, one in each of yours, and smile broadly.

"I’m pregnant," you finally say, feeling your heartbeat quicken. "With twins."

The reaction is straight out of a movie. James’s eyes widen, and he stares at you for a moment, speechless. Then a broad grin spreads across his face, and he pulls you into a tight hug. "What? Twins?!" he exclaims loudly and joyfully. "That’s incredible!"

Michael remains calm for a moment before he starts laughing slowly, his laughter deep and full of happiness. He places a hand on your belly and looks into your eyes. "Twins... that’s wonderful, Y/N." He pulls you close and gives you a gentle kiss. "I can’t wait."

The crowd around you explodes into cheers and applause. Some fans even stand up and clap enthusiastically. James and Michael are still completely speechless with joy, and you stand between them, overwhelmed by their reactions and the emotions of the moment. You feel like you’re floating on air as both men happily embrace you.

"I still can’t believe it," James murmurs in your ear. "Twins!"

Michael nods in agreement and smiles at James. "So, we’re going to have two little McFassys soon."

The crowd laughs as the term is mentioned. You laugh too, shaking your head and feeling incredibly loved. It’s a moment you’ll never forget—a moment of joy, surprise, and boundless happiness.

[squinch-depraved]

the people have asked for more poly!tedschlatt and that is what the people shall get. here's reader and schlatt getting walked in on by their dear friend ted, who decides to join in the fun. she/her used, first time writing double penetration hope you enjoy lovelies <3

the haze of another smoggy l.a. afternoon hung in the air as you lay on top of schlatt, lips plump from kissing him everywhere. the two of you were cuddled up in bed in one of ted's two spare rooms, sloppily making out to a playlist gone rogue after hours of deep conversation and toying with each other. it was now approaching golden hour, and dazzling amber rays shone in through the half open blinds, cloaking everything in a comfortable glow. you walked your fingers around in circles on his chest as you leaned on your other arm, not meeting his gaze. he studied you and eventually softly grasped your wandering hand, causing you to turn to look at him.

after a moment, he spoke. "you wanna?" his head tilted ever so slightly when he asked you. a smile teased at your lips as you simply nodded. he pulled you in for a kiss again, groaning softly once he could taste you. you were inexplicably sweet, always leaving him with a sudden craving for desserts. he adored the taste of your tongue, your teeth, your skin, your dripping cunt and the tight hole below it- all of you left a sugary flavor on his taste buds that he wasn't sure if he was imagining or not. he had explored every part of you with his tongue, but he had one hole left that his thick cock hadn't ventured into. he wondered if it would feel as sweet as you tasted.

"you feel like lettin' me in your ass today?" he asked, voice quiet but steady. his hand came around to rest on your behind. you looked at him and thought for a few seconds before nodding meekly.

"as long as you promise to go slow at first," you replied.

"'at first' being the key words there," he chuckled, pulling you in for one last deep kiss before beginning to peel his clothes off. you mirrored him, and soon the two of you were naked, grinding on each other mindlessly until schlatt zoned back in and began to stretch you out with his fingers. he went very slow, as promised, and your lewd moans filled the apartment, escaping through the open bedroom door.

just before he was about to insert himself into you, when he was softly assuring you this was going to be worth it, he looked up at the doorway and froze, seeing ted staring at you two in a mixture of shock, lust, and embarrassment. the two men stared at each other for a moment, tensions high, while you mewled impatiently before looking up and noticing your audience as well. you, however, let out a moan when ted locked eyes with you, snapping him out of his daze and causing him to reach forward and awkwardly slam the door shut. footsteps could be heard sprinting to his room and his door slamming as well.

schlatt sighed heavily and mumbled, "shit," before he smacked your ass lightly and stepped off the bed. he looked at you while he slipped on his boxers and said, "can i invite him to join?"

you eagerly nodded, volunteering to go with him if he needed help convincing ted, which earned a laugh from his lips.

"no, doll, just sit here and be good f' me," he spoke gruffly. you nodded once more and he shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him.

minutes passed, and you sat there, waiting so patiently for them, but after so long, you just couldn't help yourself. you began rubbing circles into your clit, relaxing into the bed and letting out small moans. after who knows how long, the door swung open and the two men started to enter, but stopped when they see you working on yourself. you froze and snatched your hand away but it was too late, they looked at each other and began snickering, degrading names slipping from their tongues.

"can't believe you were about to fuck this filthy slut without me," ted admitted, no longer jealous of both of you for getting to be with the other.

"we can fuck her at the same time, if you want," schlatt responded. he looked at you, brow raised, and when you nodded, he turned back to ted. "was gonna fuck her ass for the first time anyway, might as well let you in her other hole and make it somethin' she'll really remember."

ted's face lit up, a grin spread across his features as he immediately began stripping off his clothes. "i'm so glad i came home early to catch you guys, holy shit," he breathed. he pulled schlatt in for a kiss, startling him before he reciprocated a second later. the sight stirred something in you, rousing a moan from deep in your chest. they pulled away and looked at you, smirking and whispering about their plan for a moment before ted dove onto the bed next to you.

you shrieked as you bounced a few times on the mattress before settling back down where you were. schlatt came around and laid on the other side of you, stroking your arm softly while ted attacked you with kisses. his lips travelled all over you, biting and sucking occasionally before settling on your sopping pussy and devouring you. his tongue explored you frantically, his fingers worked skillfully in and out of you, and schlatt alternated his mouth between your nipples, giving you just the right stimulation to help you rocket towards an orgasm. you screeched and tugged at ted's hair, knotting your fingers into his dark brown strands, causing him to moan into your aching hole and sending a shock down your spine from the vibrations against your cunt.

he pulled away a bit later and looked up at the two of you in adoration, face covered in your juices and some hickeys schlatt must have given him while they were away from you now visible. again something stirred in your gut, but you packed it away for later because schlatt was getting restless. you could tell from the way his cock twitched every few seconds, shiny precum leaking from the tip. he tapped you, signaling the time to shift positions, and helped you off the bed so ted could lay down in the middle.

the oldest out of all of you lay there, resting back on his arms slightly, his long, hard member standing at attention, ready for you to hop on. his hazel eyes flicked between the two of you as you looked up at schlatt one last time, and he fixed them on you when you climbed on top of him. the expression on his face when you looked down at him was pathetic. he wasn't even in you yet, his head had just barely touched your folds, and he was completely gone. you grinned, eager to ruin him, and sunk down onto him. however, you had forgotten how big ted was, and you let out a yowl as you kept taking more, and more, until eventually he bottomed out. once you were used to it, you started moving your hips, making sure he had some time with just you before your shared boyfriend abused your other hole. a peek in schlatt's direction revealed him staring at the two of you, bottom lip in his teeth, steadily pumping himself in his hand. you moaned and your hips faltered, giving ted the perfect opportunity to begin fucking himself up into you.

after a minute of this, schlatt grumbled, "fuck it," and pushed himself up to sit behind you. you adjusted your angle on ted and allowed him better access. "ted, stop! can't get in," he murmured, swatting the man's thigh to make him stop thrusting. the taller man whined, but complied, and schlatt lined himself up with your rim. "y' ready, doll?" he panted. you nodded and braced yourself.

you couldn't help but scream as the delicious pain of him stretching you open for the first time sliced through you. it's a torturous game of going slow with you, making sure you aren't being hurt unnecessarily, holding themselves back from ravaging you together. so when you gave schlatt the go ahead to move, he began pumping slowly, letting out a deep groan. ted whimpered under you, feeling schlatt's cock through your thin walls, and rolled his eyes back. when you told him he could move too, neither showed any mercy.

the two men pounded into you at brutal paces, various praises and insults filling the room.

"fuck, she's so good!"

"still a fuckin' whore though, huh?"

"oh, always, but she's so useful!"

"useful like a tool should be."

"listen to her on our cocks, she's singin'!"

"just means we're not fuckin' her hard enough, she'll be unable to make noise eventually."

ted came first, burying his cockhead deep in you and biting down wherever he could, leaving you with deep purple teeth marks on your shoulder. the scream you let out from the pain of that, combined with you clenching around him, coaxed schlatt's orgasm from him soon after.

they fucked you so good, so hard, you couldn't remember how many times you came. all you remember was the pleasure, the pain long forgotten in a trade for the memories of being filled by the two people you love most. when they had their fill, they didn't even pull out, you all just collapsed into a pile on the bed. after the boys caught their breath, they carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you up before making you dinner for the evening and taking care of you all night.

[luviwon]

sunwon anon back with part 2;

jungwon would be far from done with you, turning you over so now you're facing the door, leaning against it with your ass tutted out and facing him. jungwon thought the position was perfect, because now not only will he be fucking you, sunoo will painfully withhold his own moans as best as he can, getting off to the sounds of your pleasure only a few feet away, and your ear was pressed against the door giving you no choice but to hear him. something about knowing sunoo knows what you're doing, but he isn't interfering, and he doesn't know you know, is so hot. he thinks he's the filthy one, shamelessly conjuring up the most compromising images of you he can recall. the time he saw you bend over and could see the shape of your pussy mound in your panties, the other time during movie night, where he knew jungwon must have done something to you earlier that day due to how much you kept shifting beside him, your eyes constantly looking out of focus while jungwon looked either directly at you, the movie, or locked eyes with sunoo himself, a smirk on his lips while he brought one hand out from under the blanket that covered you both, sunoo instantly realizing now why jungwon had both hands previously hidden, why you looked the way you did, when jungwon gave him a "shh" gesture with a pointer finger that glistened when illuminated by the light cast in the room by the movie everyone else was paying attention to, shining with slick that surely came from your cunt while everyone else wasn't paying attention. you were good at hiding it, at keeping quiet. but it all came to a head the time sunoo had a full, uninterrupted view of you alone on jungwon's bed, unaware the bedroom door was slightly ajar, clueless to the fact that sunoo was watching you and the way your pussy spread for your fingers like a vulture, the way you got yourself off on jungwon's bed, but said both of their names. he wanted to think he'd imagined it, no matter what you were thinking, no matter how brash wonie got with showing you off, hugging you from behind in ways that squished your tits together in front of him, kissing your neck so sunoo can see you squirm in embarrassment, it didn't mean you were explicitly interested in him. but this? moaning his name while you got off on jungwon's bed? that's only an accident if it happens once. but to his amazement and dismay, you said it again. and again. and again. and that day became the first of many where sunoo would stand staring at you from the crack at the door, getting himself off, whether you were touching yourself or not. when you'd shower and find your underwear gets "lost" in the laundry, your little trinkets in jungwon's room occasionally misplaced, you didn't think much of it. but for sunoo, access to these pieces of you meant everything. taking them meant everything. feeling the fabric of your panties become sopping wet and rub against his cock meant more. so when you finally heard him moan on the other side of the door, not knowing how long he's dreamt of this, barely aware of how far you've helped him get along, you clenched, and jungwon noticed. he leaned forward, the heat of his body warming your back, the fabric of his hoodie giving a gentle separation to your hot and sweaty bodies as he whispered in your ear "do we have an audience?" he asked you as if he didn't know, as if he wasn't aware when he had sent an inquiry to the group chat, the one you aren't in, hours earlier that sunoo replied he's going to be home most of the day when discussing their plans. but he knew, full and well. he also knew you and sunoo were going to enjoy what's next, and so he whispered to you again "let's give him a show" before picking up his pace with a smile, your body rhythmically banging against the door along with a slurry of incomprehensible blabbering that sent sunoo over the edge, he let out a groan as his cum coated your stretched out underwear, long past the point of being worth returning from how frequently he'd been using it to wrap his cock, what would have been ribbons instead spurring out the twitching head

that’s so fucking hot holy shit i’m so wet fuck

[skhardwarevers1]

in the process of figuring out designs for W.G characters except the only two I can think of are the founders, who just so happen to look similar to Jeff Goldblum and George Clooney. However they have no names yet so I refer to them by the actor’s names, which gets really confusing because it sounds like I’m rambling about evil gay yaoi between Jeff Goldblum and George Clooney.

[number-1-crush]

i want date girl

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[screampied]

‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

[off-center-milk]

Marble hornets not having much of a visually distinctive cast can be really frustrating, especially when ur first watching it. Then multiply that frustration 10x because of all the visual distortion/glitching. But nowadays I'm p thankful bcs wanting to make mh fanart is what pushed me to put more effort into drawing faces and making faces look distinctive from each other.

[murdrdocs]

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan doesn't trust you.

he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.

you won't be here for long.

he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.

gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.

you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.

logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.

he finds himself wanting to find out.

he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.

“what’s your problem with me?”

logan shrugs dismissively.

apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.

but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".

logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.

his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.

he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.

the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.

your competence is hot.

by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.

you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.

"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 

the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.

"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.

logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.

he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.

[simplyholl]

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan @kcd15

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this.

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[halfvalid]

pretty in that

ABOUT

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro

author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!

You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 

Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 

“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 

“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 

Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 

“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 

“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 

“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 

“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 

“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 

“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 

“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 

“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 

“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 

“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 

“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 

“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 

“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.

“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 

Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 

“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 

Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 

“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 

“Not really what I’m into.” 

“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”

“Three swords, three earrings.” 

“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 

“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 

“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 

You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 

“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 

You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 

“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 

“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 

“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 

“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 

“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 

“You always look nice.” 

You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 

Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 

Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 

“Better how?” 

“You can probably run in it.” 

You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 

Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 

To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 

Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 

He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 

You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 

“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 

“Because of… clothing?” 

You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 

“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 

Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 

Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 

You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 

Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 

You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 

Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.

Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 

“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 

“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 

‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 

“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 

“Let me see.” 

You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 

“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 

“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 

“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“Oh.” 

Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 

There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 

You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“Am not.” 

Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.

“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 

You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 

“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 

“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”

Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”

“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 

“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 

“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 

Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 

“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 

“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 

“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 

Your breath caught. 

“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 

“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 

You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 

Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 

“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 

“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 

“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 

“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.

You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 

“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 

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