#but it wouldn’t the the first time someone showed interest and i completely fucked things when i didn’t even need to

[gregmarriage]

kinda got the #random urge to sabotage this before it’s even begun

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,��� he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[klttn]

just thinking about dreamy nd pervy, in love stalker simon who started out following you as just a way to check you were safe after the 141 had found you on mission. fragile little thing you were. he just wanted to make sure you were settling okay.

he didn’t intend for it to be any more than that. but it became routine. and being the military mutt he was, he loved his routine. at least that’s what he tells himself late at night when he’s defiling you in his head with his cock out and his hand fisting it.

it started out by him just watching you, lingering so close but just far enough that a little ditz like you wouldn’t notice a thing. making sure you weren’t being followed, keeping you safe, being your guard dog.

he didn’t know when it escalated to more than that. to needing to see you constantly. craving you as his. wanting you to be his girl. you basically already were, to him at least.

so like any doting boyfriend. he put cameras in your house. to protect you. obviously. he was just protecting you. it’s not an invasion of privacy. your his, right? you will be his.

so of course, he’d scare off any man who showed even the smallest of interest in you. whether that be online or in person. “you’re not good enough for her,” he’d tell them. mask covering his face as he growled at them after pulling them aside in a dark alley. “she is mine, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

and silly little you just didn’t know any better, flirting with others whilst you’re his. he’s just making sure you’re loyal.

he’d later watch the sad and confused look on your face when they never came back to you or in online cases just disappear completely. no text. no calls. just vanishing. but fuck did you look so cute when you were wide eyed and lost, looking for someone already gone and scared shitless.

though in his eyes, you always look so pretty when you don’t know he’s watching.

and he was always watching. he loved it. all the mundane things you do too, having him cooing and imagining what life would be like if he lived with you.

he even started doing things with you. watching you as your brushed your teeth whilst he did the same, chuckling to himself when the frothy mint would drool from your mouth. mornings with my girl, he thought.

cooking and watching you eat with him too. tv screen broadcasting you as he’d sit n take mouthful after mouthful. intently watching when you’d moan at how good the food would taste. he also imagined those noises for other things.

but his favourite thing to watch though, was you at night. when he was laying in bed, phone in hand with the feed up keening as soft snores filled the speakers and you’d cuddle even closer to your duvet.

he’d imagine himself behind you, enveloping you in his meaty scarred body, so eager for you to be his. to wrap himself around you and keep you claimed in his hold and surrounded by his scent.

he never intended to watch you change or in the shower though. she’d show me one day. she’s mine after all. that lasted all but a couple of weeks at best. he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he really wasn’t. but in his defence, he didn’t expect the first time he watched you undress for you to do such filthy things. he soon found out you made the prettiest noises when you touched yourself.

he wasn’t supposed to do it again though. watch as you stripped your clothes off and spread yourself out on the bed after a long day. legs trembling as you trailed your fingers up and down your body, rubbing soft circles around your folds and puffy swollen clit.

he wasn’t supposed to get hard at the way the camera angled just perfectly to show every inch of your soft n wanting body to him. able to see the way your little hole begged to be filled.

he really wasn’t supposed to turn the volume up and start fucking into his fist the minute your adorable little whimpers left the speakers. jacking his wrist in sync to your pathetic attempt to fuck yourself with your too-small fingers. i could fill her up so much better, he’d think.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to cum hot white stripes all over his calloused and rough hand with your name spilling from his lips. groaning when he heard you coming undone with him.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to then break into your house the next day whilst you were out. stealing a pair of panties to help his endeavours. he was a strong man, but you were his weakness.

maybe he’d even leave one of his hoodies for you to be confused by. a letter hidden in the front pocket.

“you may not know it yet, little girl, but you are mine. — ghost, your stalker and the man who saved your life.”

after all, he had to reintroduce himself somehow. what were you gonna do? tell the cops?

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3

[perseruna]

heyyyy do you have any details/sources for the ca*ill being a jackass thing? ngl i watch twn for yen and jaskier so i was already planning on continuing to season 4 but i'd love some reasons to be actively excited for the actor switch. but i haven't kept up on the behind-the-scenes stuff so i'm kinda lost on that front if you're up for sharing any of what you know!

okay guys buckle up this is THE anti henry cavill megathread xoxo

First of all him dating a teenager as a 33 year old fully grown man literally gross and disgusting.

Also as this quote implies they started dating a year prior and only went public when she was 19 so they supposedly started dating when she was 18.

His entire dating history is a MESS. Sure the women he dated are not him, but he chose to date them, I wouldn't even associate myself with people like these let alone be in a relationship with them. He dated the infamous transphobic TERF Gina Carano, albeit before her loud controversy, but I doubt her harmful views were any different back then. His current gf has a history of doing black face.

His "Me Too" comments.

His comments on the Me Too movement are literally so vile. If you don’t want to be called a rapist, just don’t rape women, it’s literally as simple as that. They’re even more foul because they’re promoting the idea that women lie about their abusive for fame, promoting that harmful rhetoric especially in our times is incredibly dangerous.

Now onto his on set behavior.

We can't talk about his set behavior without mentioning the deuxmoi set leak. Here's the transcript of it:

[Transcript:

There’s something I really really wanted to read to you guys--it has to do with why Henry Cavill left The Witcher. I know that was something that you guys were super interested in when it happened, and I just recently got this message. Somebody was like “Hey, do you want to know what really went down?” And I was like “Sure!” So let me just read it. It says:

“At the beginning of the show, Henry was good to work with. A lot of difficult demands that made people feel like he wasn’t a team player, but that’s not unusual for a really big star. Though in TV it truly usually doesn’t happen until the second season. But in season two and three something shifted and he became really impossible for women to work with, which is always a big problem, but even worse here because the showrunner is a woman. He would try to overrule her and try to get changes made last minute across the board without her knowledge, which, if you know anything about showrunning, is completely fucked. The showrunner has to sign off on every miniscule detail down to the buttons on a costume. Female writers and directors were suddenly being completely ignored on set, unable to do their jobs. Every department head was complaining. He started making comments—it wasn’t a sexual thing, he wasn’t grabbing anyone or being lewd, but it was disrespectful and toxic all the same.

“He is deeply addicted to video games, to the point where it was like working with any other addict. He was distracted, he was late, he was obsessive, and a lot of people think the misogyny came from gamer world. Video game bro language is not how you talk to coworkers, and he wouldn’t stop. Someone on the show compared it to watching someone get brainwashed by QAnon, like his whole personality shifted. Eventually his disrespect escalated. He would rewrite scenes without even alerting the other actors in the scenes until it was time to shoot. He decided that he didn’t want any romantic scenes at all—no kissing scenes, no shirtless scenes, et cetera. He wanted complete control of storylines but really had no idea of the limitations of TV, structure, budget, et cetera. He formed a weird alliance with one writer who was also a gamer, who eventually got fired after multiple HR complaints were made and after that writer left, Henry did anything he could to hold up production and cause problems.

“Eventually top brass at Netflix was tired of him costing them money with delays and HR investigations and the showrunner was asked to construct a potential exit for him. Netflix reached out to him personally and he was given one final warning, and violated that warning with an email he sent to the entire writing staff right after that meeting. That was it. It’s very disappointing.”

End transcript.]

Now believe me or not, but I know from a really good source that the leak was indeed real.

There's a lot of patterned behavior that tracks with what we know of him and his past controversies.

After that leak came out, there was a lot of people from different places coming to comment that ‘yes’ they’ve heard a very similar story adding a little bit more details of their own.

this quickly deleted tweet from one of the writers/producers:

there were rumors about him being an asshole to Anya specifically.

He went on record that he doesn't "understand" sex scenes. Which I know the sex discourse is rampant nowadays and each to their own, but he specifically signed up for a role that requires those scenes and then refused to do them and was allegedly nasty to Anya about it and with the way he talks about women...

Also it’s important to touch upon the “writer he had a weird alliance with” that man in question is Beau DeMayo of the recent fame of getting fired by Marvel from X-Men ‘97. He was previously allegedly fired from The Witcher for being emotionally and physically abusive. And he allegedly got fired from X-Men for being abusive as well. One of The Witcher writers tweeted this after Beau smeared them for ���disliking the books” Beau was literally the first person to start that narrative.

The fact that it was HIS idea not to say lines of his dialogue in S1 and instead grunt. To the point that Joey had to take Henry’s lines and make it his own, so the plot would make sense, he talks about it in this interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=Oyh0t117t0U&, and then once S2 press arrived Henry was talking about how he was trying to fight the big bad writers to give him more lines. Ridiculous.

Everyone is already pointing out that the cast looks so much happier without him, and it’s very true. Henry was never present on close to any BTS pics from filming the previous seasons, or on any cast dinners or birthdays. He wouldn't even do any shared interviews with the other three mains but only had solo interviews which to me was giving disrespectful like you're an ensemble you’re not the only lead here. It felt like he was above them to sit down and answer questions with them. When they were doing press junkets in Brazil and Poland Anya, Joey and Freya would always arrive together and leave together with that man leaving all the events early and by himself. And like people who post quotes from the cast about him being perfect from press junkets as “proof” are insane to me like Obviously they’re going to say nice things about him, not only they're newcomers, and he's an established industry name, but they’re doing PRESS for a show that he’s a STAR of (well, was lmao)

The fact that he never defended Anya from the racist trolls, even though most of them were HIS fans. Like she had to go through so much and that man couldn’t make a single comment about it as a leading man BUT he could make a whole IG post because people were being mean to his gf and calling her out for doing blackface.

And sure people might say that a lot of these are unverified sources, and I’d get it if it was a singular case, but there are a ton of these accounts that all match each other. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Already Know, Babe

Request: Heyy would I be able to pretty please ask for a Roy one-shot based of So High School? Mainly the lyric: "Truth, Dare, Spin Bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" (bc I have TTPD brainrot) Like I'd love to picture Roy with a total academic girl who loves classic literature and ancient greece and philosophy pls ???

Roy Kent x Reader

3.3k words

Warnings: Language, Roy being insecure, the guys making Roy feel bad (not on purpose)

A/N: Ahhh I also have TTPD brainrot so I loooooove this! I made the reader a uni professor. Also been wanting to do a Bantr fic for Roy for a while, so I incorporated that in too!

Roy scowled and sipped his beer. “Fuck no.”

Leaning forward in the booth they sat in, Keeley gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, the ones that stopped working the moment he got over her. “Come on, Roy. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it’d be good for you.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Jamie chimed in.

“‘Fuck no’ used to be a complete sentence,” Roy growled.

Before he could stop the striker, Jamie grabbed Roy’s mobile off the table, holding it just out of the gaffer’s reach. “Just… one… moment…” he huffed as Keeley did her best to hold Roy back. “Alright, we need a username.”

Roy rolled his eyes but stopped fighting against Keeley’s grip. “How about ‘This is fucking stupid’?”

“I think that’s against their policy,” Jamie hummed, eyes still on the phone.

Keeley thought for a moment. “RoyallySarcastic? Y’know, ROYally?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I got it!” He typed away before proudly showing the screen to Roy and Keeley. “RoyalPain,” he announced.

With a giggle, Keeley took the phone from Jamie and handed to Roy, who looked ready to kill his friends. “There we are Roy-o,” she said. “Welcome to Bantr.”

~

~

Roy sat at the small table, fidgeting with the shiny fork on the table and staring intently at the condensation on the glass of water in front of him. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He was Roy fucking Kent, he reminded himself sternly. He’d been on plenty of dates. Sure, this was his first Bantr date, but that shouldn’t really matter. He’d been on a couple of blind dates in the past; this shouldn’t be much different.

But it sure felt different when you walked in, all wide eyes and nervous smiles. You approached him hesitantly, cocking your head as you got closer. Your gaze flickered to the tattered copy of A Wrinkle in Time on the table next to him before settling on his face.

“RoyalPain?” you squeaked out, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

Before he could stop himself, he grinned and blurted out, “I Kant believe it’s you.” Immediately, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nope, fuck, that was stupid. I’m sor-”

Your laughter eased his embarrassment as you sat across from him. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you countered. “That was cute.” You offered your name with a small smile.

“Roy,” he said simply, searching your face for any sign that you recognized him.

Instead, you nodded and leaned forward. “And what do you do, Roy?”

What did he do? He tried to remember the last time someone asked him that. “I work for a football team,” he said slowly. “A.F.C. Richmond.��

You nodded, interest all over your pretty face. “And what do you do at Richmond?”

He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Do you… you don’t know who I am?” Fuck, he felt like an absolute asshole saying the words out loud.

“Sure I do,” you chuckled. “I just figured that Roy Kent doesn’t often get the chance to introduce himself. Thought I’d give you the opportunity.”

Roy couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, it was kind of dorky, but fuck, he liked it. Just like he liked hearing about your job as a uni professor, or the article you recently wrote about Arthurian legend, or the book you’d read recently. And he really liked the way you looked at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, more interesting than the well-renowned experts and authors you got to spend time with, asking him about his work and his life and his opinions. He smiled all through dinner, laughing at jokes even when they went over his head and making a mental list of books he now wanted to read.

He was still grinning as he walked you to your car after dinner, wondering when he’d last enjoyed himself so much on a date. As you fished your keys out of your purse, he found himself desperately hoping for another date with you. And another. And another.

“Could we do this again sometime?” he asked gently once your keys were in your hand.

Fuck, he loved the way your eyes lit up at his question. “Absolutely,” you breathed.

With a dizzy little nod, Roy cupped your face and tugged you close, ghosting his lips over yours. You gently laid your hands on his hips to press against him, deepening the kiss. You swore you could feel him smiling against your mouth as his thumb stroked your cheek. Some little part of you wanted to pull this man into your car, into your apartment, into your bed. But from the happy little hum that vibrated from his chest to yours, you knew you had plenty of dates ahead of you, plenty of time for all that, plenty of Roy Kent ahead of you.

~

After three weeks of dates and laughter and late-night phone calls and kisses that escalated to other things, Roy invited you to a match. He seemed weirdly nervous for a retired football legend whose dating history could fill any of the giant books that filled the shelves in your office, but you found his nerves nothing short of charming. So, you threw on some comfy jeans and a sweatshirt and climbed into Roy’s giant black car to go with him to Nelson Road, where he showed you his office before giving you your ticket and sending you off to your seat with a chaste kiss.

Roy was fighting the stupidest smile as he prepared for the match, the same stupid smile he’d been fighting since your first date. He was excited for you to see him and the Greyhounds in action, to be able to show off for you a little and, he didn’t fucking know, make you proud or some shit.

“Was that your girlfriend, Roy?” Sam raised his eyebrows as he and Jan stood in the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “No,” he said slowly. “But we’ve been dating for a few weeks.” He paused for a moment, hoping he didn’t look too dopey as he spoke. “She’s a professor. Fucking brilliant. Like, she teaches, and she’s been published and speaks at conferences.”

Jan spoke up. “Most men would not be able to handle dating a woman so much more educated than they are. Good for you, Coach. It’s nice that you are not intimidated by her clearly superior intellect.”

A knot appeared in Roy’s stomach, but he simply cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Yeah, well.” He blinked, not sure what the fuck he was supposed to say to that. “Best finish getting ready, hmm?”

Jan’s words continued to flutter around Roy’s mind like an annoying butterfly as he made his way out to the pitch. He liked that you were smart. Hell, he liked that you were smarter than him. He could listen to you talk for hours about literature and history and philosophy, especially when your eyes lit up and your voice got faster, the way he noticed it did when you were especially passionate about something. It was impressive, not to mention sexy as all hell. But there had definitely been moments over the last few weeks where he had to Google what you were talking about while you weren’t looking, or where he laughed at a joke he didn’t really understand. It came with the territory, he told himself. It was to be expected, dating someone like you.

And there you were, sitting in the seat Roy had selected for you, the one that gave you the perfect view of the dugout- per your request. You waved excitedly when you caught Roy’s eye, wearing that giant smile that made his heart skip a beat. He offered back a small wave, knowing full well that all the guys could see his furious blush.

“That your girl?” Colin asked, following Roy’s dreamy gaze.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention back to his team. “Uh, I guess?” he mumbled, taking the clipboard Nate handed him.

Sam spoke up. “Roy said she’s a uni professor.”

Respect covered the faces of the men that were clearly more interested in Roy’s love life than their impending match. They all started chattering over each other, ignoring Roy’s eyerolls and Beard and Nate’s amused expressions.

Richard waggled his eyebrows. “Does she offer special office hours for you, Coach?”

Roy wrinkled his nose at the Frenchman. “What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Did you have to buy a new dictionary to keep up with her?” Zoreaux teased.

Isaac spoke up, clapping a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Most guys would probably run for the hills if they had to keep up with a woman’s brainpower,” he started. “But Roy’s not intimidated. I mean, sure, we all know he’s no Einstein, but he’s got other great qualities. Like…”

Roy raised a cool eyebrow at the captain, more curious than offended at this point.

“Coaching,” Colin finally finished for Isaac. “He’s a great manager.”

Jamie pipped up now. “And she seems to really like looking at you, Grandad.” He nodded to the stands where, sure enough, you were still gazing at Roy, affection all over your face. “She’s cute,” he mused.

Roy cleared his throat, trying to focus attention to the match at hand and not your pretty smiles. Or the words of his players that had etched a deep frown onto his bearded face. “Alright, Greyhounds!” he hollered. “Let’s fucking focus, lads! We’ve got a fucking match to win!”

~

And they did win, much to Roy’s pleasure. Winning always felt good, but he had to admit that winning in front of a pretty girl felt fucking great. And it was even better when he found you waiting in his office, gazing at him as if you had hearts in your eyes.

“That was brilliant!” you gushed, wrapping your arms around his middle while his rested on your shoulders and tugged you close. You pressed a tiny kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Roy.”

He smiled down at you and pecked your nose. “Think you’ll come again sometime?” he teased.

Your eager nodding melted his heart. “Absolutely,” you promised. “Maybe next time I’ll even wear a kit. Since I think I’m officially a Richmond fan now.”

“That kit better have a six on it,” Roy growled, smacking another kiss to your cheek. He gave you a small squeeze before releasing you. He reached down to grab your hand. “I’ve got to go talk to the press for a bit, he explained, leading you over to his desk. “D’you mind waiting here? We can grab dinner once I’m done,” he promised. “Here, you can even watch the presser on my computer.”

“Sounds perfect.” You touched his cheek and pulled him close for one more kiss. “Now get going, I want to see you be brilliant in front of all those reporters.”

Roy was still blushing when he got in front of the cameras. The press conference was a blur of questions and comments. He’d probably have to apologize to Keeley later, because he was sure he was dreamy and distracted the entire time. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so lovesick over a woman, and he especially couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed it so much.

When he returned to his office, he was surprised to see Jamie sitting on the edge of his desk, chatting pleasantly with you. You both lit up at the sight of him, with Jamie choosing to speak first as Roy offered a small grin to you.

“Your girl was just telling me about this seminar she’s speaking at next weekend,” he announced. “Some talk on the Lord of the Rings books and their impact on modern cinema.” He nodded to you. “It actually sounds really cool.” He slid off the desk with ease, offering you a wink. “Not sure what someone as smart as you is doing with Grandad here,” he joked.

He was kidding around. Roy knew that. Jamie loved to tease everyone, especially him. He was well-aware of the way Jamie admired him, as his childhood hero, as his coach, and, fuck it, fine, as his friend. Maybe it was all the joking from earlier, but Roy felt his face fall at Jamie’s teasing. He couldn’t help it; it was one thing for the guys to joke to his face, another to make a comment in front of you. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself, but some part of him was terrified you’d realize how brilliant you were, and how dull he was, and call the whole thing off.

Roy was so busy stewing in his childish embarrassment, he missed the way your eyebrows scrunched at Jamie, your mouth in a straight line. When you spoke, your voice was flat, maybe even a little angry, as you responded to the striker.

“I think,” you said slowly, “I’m going to dinner with him.” With that, you took Roy’s hand, hoping the adoration in your eyes would be enough to wipe that frown off his handsome features. “Ready, Roy?”

Roy nodded, but barely said a word as the two of you walked through the Dog Track, got into his car, and drove to the restaurant he’d been excitedly telling you about the day before. However, that excitement was nowhere to be seen as the two of you settled in and ordered some dinner. You cocked your head at him, wondering how someone who’d just coached such a great game could look so sullen- especially while on a date with someone he was supposed to really like.

“That match was incredible,” you offered, leaning forward with a smile. “Seriously, Roy. How do you do that? Being able to see the game unfold and know what plays to call, what players to have on the pitch. And all the preparation you have to do in advance. It’s like a really intense game of chess, with all those moving pieces, not knowing what the other side is going to do next.” You reached out and laid your hand on top of his. “Your team is so lucky to have you.”

His gaze avoided yours as he cleared his throat. “Dunno how much of it is me,” he chuckled hollowly. “I inherited a great team and have a really talented coaching staff.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I just… stand there and take up space.”

Now it was your turn to frown. This wasn’t the Roy Kent you met, the Roy Kent that teased you and smirked and made cocky comments just to make you laugh. Something had happened, something between the beginning of the match and the end, to make him so morose. Maybe something had happened in the match that you’d missed; you weren’t much of a sports fan before meeting Roy, you really only knew the basics, so it was possible what you thought was an incredible match was really something of a failure for him.

Maybe distracting him would help.

“I was telling Jamie Tartt about the conference I’m speaking at,” you tried again. “It’s this fantasy and pop culture thing. Kind of dorky,” you admitted. “But I’m really excited about my talk on Tolkien and his influence on modern cinema. My colleague was saying he really liked this one parallel I drew between Frodo and- well, I don’t want to spoil it.” You squeezed his hand. “You should come. I’ve seen you at work, now I want to show you what I do.” You shrugged. “Could even bring Jamie if you want.”

Roy nodded absently, not quite looking you in the eye. “Yeah, just make sure to get me a translator so I can understand what you’re saying.” His voice sounded like he was attempting to make a joke, but it fell flat. “Academics to neanderthal or some shit.”

That was enough of that, you decided. With a sigh, you leaned back, cocking your head at the gaffer and shooting him your sternest glare, the one you saved for students who didn’t know how to act like adults in your classroom. “Alright, Roy. What’s going on? You’re acting like you don’t want to be here, and, frankly, I don’t want to hang out with someone who doesn’t value my time.”

“I…” Roy let out a low growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re smart,” he finally blurted out. “Like, really, really fucking smart. You teach, and you’re published, and you speak in front of academic types who hang onto every word you say.” He released his nose and shook his head at you, embarrassment swimming in those brown eyes. “And I… played football. I coach football. That’s fucking it. I can’t stand the idea of you being embarrassed by the fact that I can’t keep up with you. That you’re going to turn around and realize I’m not smart enough for you.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as you took in the sight of him, looking devastated, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was right, he was a neanderthal, and that you didn’t think he was smart enough for you. If it wasn’t so sad, the picture of Roy looking so forlorn would be almost endearing.

“That,” you finally murmured, “might be the stupidest thing you’ve said since we met, Roy.” He nodded, a grimace covering his face as you went on. “Not smart enough for me?” you scoffed. “Roy, I think you’re brilliant.” You sighed and shook your head. “I mean, look at you today. I could never do what you do, managing an entire football team. And I’ve seen clips of you when you played, you were brilliant then too. Not just a skilled player, but a smart one. And from what you’ve said, you have great relationships with your players, with your niece and sister, hell even with your ex-girlfriend. That takes an emotional intelligence most people don’t have.”

“I mean-”

You shushed the gruff man. “’m not finished. And what’s this about you not being able to keep up with me? You read almost as much as I do, Roy. When you don’t know something, you immediately learn everything you can about it. You absolutely tore through ‘Le Morte d'Arthur’ after our first date so you could ask me about my King Arthur article.” A smile finally broke through your face. “So, unless this is some roundabout way of trying to say you don’t want to see me anymore, please stop insulting the man I’m dating and accept that there’s different kinds of intelligence. And I like your intelligence quite a bit.”

For a moment, you thought you may have completely overwhelmed Roy. He blinked at you with an unreadable expression before letting out a breathy chuckle. With raised eyebrows and something that looked close to a smile, he finally opened his mouth.

“I’ve just… never had such an intelligent girlfriend before,” he said slowly. “I’ve dated smart women. Driven women. But no one like you. It’s… a little scary, how brilliant you are.” That something close to a smile became a real grin as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “And really fucking sexy,” he added quickly.

Your heart skipped a beat with every word out of his mouth. “You’ve never had a nerdy girlfriend before, hmm?” you teased.

His expression was bashful, but absolutely pleased. “No,” he chuckled. “I haven’t.”

A smirk crossed your face as you batted your eyes at him. “Do you want a nerdy girlfriend?”

Those brown eyes were so soft, so full of affection as he nodded gently. “Yeah,” he breathed, raising those thick eyebrows at you. “I really fucking do.”

“That,” you hummed with a silly grin, “might be the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Roy.”

[whatsjulietslastname]

Okay so this is me talking about everything that is wrong with Double Exposure because my first post about it was an angry reaction at the pricefield breaking up news and it wasn’t really diving into it. Obviously don’t read this if you haven’t played the game and do not want to get spoiled. Also, this is going to be long.

First of all, what I really want to speak about and what a lot of people are refusing to accept is how painfully out of character Max is throughout the whole game. “Yeah but she’s ten years older—” Don’t care. That doesn’t mean her entire personality has to change. I’ll say it over and over again, 2014 Max Caulfield would have absolutely despised her adult version. The thing that bugs me the most about 2024 Max Caulfield is how careless she is with her powers. She’s not asking herself where they came from, she doesn’t even freak out, or actually care. In the first game, right after she first rewinds, she constantly has to remind herself that she isn’t dreaming, and that this is real. In this game, she just accepts it, and goes on with her day, and uses her powers for the most useless reasons possible. What about the Max from her nightmare who represents the guilt she felt for using her powers wrong and putting all of those people in danger, you say? Absolutely forgotten. Max uses her powers so she can find items easier and so the people who rejected her in her main timeline want her in the other one. (Yes, after Chloe breaks up with her and expresses her worries about the fact that Max — apparently — uses her powers so things go her way — which is already incredibly out of character, because no, 2014 Max wouldn’t have used her powers on Chloe to avoid conflict, especially after what happened.) That is incredibly manipulative and shitty. SHE WOULDN’T FUCKING SAY THAT. And also, why on Earth would she try and use her powers to avoid her friend’s death when she KNOWS where this is leading. Did she not learn anything from the past? Apparently, she didn’t! And proceeded to completely forget about it all.

Something else that is incredibly annoying and gets tiring after like ten minutes is the amount of awkward sex-related jokes that Max (and every character, somehow) keeps making at any given moment. Pretty sure this was supposed to show us that Max is an adult now and that she hangs out with adults and knows what sex is but that is way too much. Nobody talks like that in real life (and if I ever meet someone who does I’m leaving the conversation). Max also makes cringey jokes all the time, because her dialogue (and hers only, which makes it sound even weirder) is the same as the 2014 one, except it was 2014 back then and it was acceptable. Now, if Max Caulfield says ‘let’s trash, shakabrah’, you’re only making it obvious how much fan-service you filled this game with. It would be funny if she said it to Chloe, because then it would have sounded like an inside joke, except she says it to her new lame love interest who has no idea what she’s talking about, and just. Why. Why would she, Deck Nine. The main problem about the fact that those jokes are thrown at us all the time is that Max’s inner dialogue is almost only focused on them. Something traumatic happens to her? Who cares. She’s gotta make a joke about the rock you pick up and then bring to another universe’s lame love interest who’s gonna reject her anyway and say ‘I’ll never apologize for my dad jokes’ because apparently, we’re never seeing the end of the fan-service in this game.

Chloe is out of character too the only few times we hear of her, but that’s only because Deck Nine makes it obvious how much they despise her. She leaves Max through a very underwhelming letter, which is already out of character enough. She then proceeds to never reach out for years (which is something Max has done to her and that has hurt her, so why the fuck would she do the same thing right after?) And apparently, she doesn’t care. She just moves on, and parties, and kind of starts flirting with Max’s high school bully, and makes cringey posts on the Internet that make her sound like an extremely corny player. That isn’t Chloe Price. That’s someone Chloe Price would make fun of, at most. I kept picturing 2014 Chloe reading the things her adult self apparently posts on social media and freeze in terror. Genuinely. Also, the whole ‘Joyce is dead and Chloe is angry at Max for it’. Sigh. Chloe gave Max the choice. She said ‘you’re the only one who can (make this choice)’. And then, when Max choses her, in front of her, and lets the town get blown away, Chloe says ‘I’ll always be with you’. Why the sudden switch up? Never explained. Chloe is just angry at Max for something she originally wasn’t angry at her for.

The writing in this game is super weak, too. There are a few cool scenes (I’m thinking the one where Safi tells Max to pulls the trigger in the middle of the storm, if you manage to make it past how boringly similar to LiS 1 it feels), but it’s mostly just…meh, at most. For instance, Safi asks Max about Chloe, we learn that Chloe and Max broke up, or that Chloe died, and then without giving us any time to process that, the game forces us to friendzone or flirt with some random girl that is apparently into Max. We don’t have any time to decide if we like her or not, you just take a look at her and decide if Max wants her. The dialogues are more often than not awful too. It sounds like something ChatGPT would write. Nearly every single interaction Max can have with basically anyone feels forced, and like people talk too much, or not enough, people say random thing that makes no sense and nobody cares, we suddenly hear Max’s thoughts in a middle of a conversation, there are awkward moments of silence. Painful to witness. Max has NO chemistry with either of her love interests (though the guy is somehow more interesting than the girl to interact with), and manages to have more romantic moments with her best friend who she’s not supposed to be into than with them. Both those love interests are useless and suck anyway, because they will both end up rejecting Max by the end anyway, and apparently won’t even return, which strikes the question of why the romantic plot lines were even involved. (Which also made me hate Amanda a lot. I guess she is somewhat likable at the beginning of the game, but she gradually becomes annoyingly pushy and ends up telling Max she’s too much to deal with at the end of the game anyway). Also, it’s annoying how obvious it is that the romantic plot line is way more explored with Amanda than it is with Vihn. Stop making Max look like she’s basically a lesbian but not completely because she hooks up with guys sometimes. Stop bisexual erasure, basically.

The game gives up on its own plot in the middle of it. It was promoted as a murder mystery but stop being one after a while to become a What The Hell Is Going On With Safi kind of thing. Also, there’s the whole thing with the detective. Why did they even create him only to treat him as a joke and never explain what happened with him. One of the most confusing thing about this game. What the hell was that for.

The nightmare sequence. God, how I hate it. If you want to deal with Max’s trauma, do it WELL. It’s a go big or go home thing, not a ‘let’s put some sort of references but never properly deal with anything’. IT WAS SO FRUSTRATING. There’s references about Chloe everywhere, and never Chloe. I get it, you don’t want her to be in this game. But if you do want to talk about Max’s trauma, you gotta swallow your pride and put her somewhere anyway. Max can’t have a nightmare about the things that traumatized her without Chloe being there. It just makes it even more obvious how much the studio avoided to put her in the game on purpose. The bathroom scene? God, please, what the fuck was that. Why would Max think of herself as some kind of Nathan Prescott parallel?? The only thing they had in common was pointing a gun at someone. That’s it. That was another poor attempt of the game to try and not put Chloe there but still say ‘look!! Max still thinks about her and is traumatized!! But she somehow dreams about it without seeing her face once!!’ like just stop. And the Dark Room part felt very underwhelming too. Kudos to Hannah Telle for the amazing voice acting on this, but the scene lasted ten seconds. Just don’t put it there, please.

The nightmare isn’t needed in every LiS game. So isn’t the Storm. So aren’t the nosebleed. Why does Diamond get nosebleed because of her powers? That was a Max thing. Daniel didn’t get nosebleed, Alex didn’t get nosebleed, Chris didn’t get nosebleed. (Rachel didn’t get nosebleed either). Why is this suddenly something everybody get because of their powers?? And why do every powers suddenly create Storms. It’s not a common Powers Problem, it was a Rewind Powers thing. God, this makes me mad.

And last but not least. The final choice. It felt so??? Underwhelming??? I use this word a lot, but it’s how the whole game feels for me. The LiS choices are hard to pick. There’s no morally wrong or right answer. It depends on who you are, what you stand for. The first game was about learning how to let go or refuse to let your friend get ruined by fate. The second game was about giving your life up for your brother to have a chance or refusing to give up on what you believe in and what makes you who you are, no matter what. Before the Storm was about protecting your loved ones from the truth or refusing to lie to them and let them hurt. True Colors was about forgive the unforgivable in the name of compassion or hold a grudge in the name of family.

And then there’s this game. ‘Do you wanna join the X-men me and my team of supervillains and take over the world lol’. Why would Max say yes to that. Just why. If you want to play the game in character, it’s obvious that you have to pick ‘refuse’. If you want to play an out of character evil Max just for the sake of it because it’s fun, alright! I don’t blame you. It’s fun. But why on Earth would Max Caulfield agree.

Also, they take you for an idiot with the cat content. Do NOT waste your money on it, you will regret it.

Anyway. This game would’ve been okay if it hadn’t been apart of the LiS franchise, and if it had starred a different main character. I still would’ve thought it was confusing and generally not great, but at least it wouldn’t have felt like such a let down. (Side note: everything I’ve said doesn’t include Moses and Gwen. I want to put them in my pocket and carry them around with me forever. Love them a lot.)

And congratulations if you’ve read this far. I probably would’ve gone ‘I ain’t reading allat’ and scrolled

[shamelessfaceless]

Love, Pain, Death, Repeat

Navigation | Marvel masterlist | part II

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x F!reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: Even death won't help you get rid off her and pain she caused.

Warnings: Mentions of death, cheating, angst

Wc: 600

A/n: Just a fast sad blurb, hope you like this <33

Your mouth is dry, completely opposite to your eyes. Pinning Natasha to the ground you let your tears fall. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but after hearing what you needed to do, you were sure it was the time.

"Think about Yelena! Your facking sister! Think what would she say if I told her that you killed yourself!" You yelled at her though she was so close to you she would hear your whispers.

"And you? You have a whole life ahead of you! You're so young! You are doing what you need, you're nice and brave, you put others before you, you are a hero people need!"

"I don’t have anyone! Anyone! I spent last years crying in my room! People don’t remember me! I don’t even remember who I am."

"Y/N" She tried to change positions. You didn't let her. You couldn't let her.

"I am not enough. I never was. Everyone knows Black Widow or Iron Man or Hawkeye! Even she showed me I was never enough!" You were almost sobbing, your tears falling on Natasha’s suit. "She choosed fucking microwave!"

When you saw Wanda for the first time, you fell almost in the same second. Literally fell. You wanted to come closer, but your legs had other plans, and you fell straight into her arms. This made her laugh. That was the first thing that actually made her show positive emotions after her brother died. Most of the night spended in your room only talking changed into spending nights in yours and hers own room. After your old relationships you were negative about love, but you started trusting her, it meant so much for you. She promised you stars. It didn't take long for her to take interest in Vision. You trusted her with your whole heart, and all she did was break it. He was just a robot, you thought you didn't need to care about him. Maybe he was a little bit too nice to Wanda, but she wouldn’t fall for cold metal, right? Oh how wrong you were. After one of the missions, you came back to your room just to see her covered in hickeys that for sure weren’t yours. You just sat on the floor and told her to get out.

"You will meet someone else. Just give yourself a chance. For fucking sake, if you let yourself forget her, you will find true love and maybe have kids or cats." Russian was strong, you started feeling like your arms were going to give up.

"She cheated on me, and soon after she disappeared. Women always choose men." You said disgustedly. Your every relationships ended because they chose to be with men. "Tell everyone I loved them." You stabbed her hand to distract her.

You started running to the end of the cliff. Black Widow’s screams didn’t stop you. Just as you jumped you looked behind to see Natasha, she was so close catching you, just a few seconds and you would be still alive. You smiled to her wondering if she could see it, and closed your eyes. Last thing in your mind was the memory of one specific lazy morning with Maximoff. Morning when she promised you cozy life, no avengers, just you and her in a big house and kids.

…

Opening your eyes you expected to see your dead parents, not two young boys.

"Good morning my love." Your head snapped to the door of the room. Wanda stood there, width smile on her lips, her eyes shining a little bit with red.

[monzamash]

the best man — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 6.5k summary – he’s the best man, you’re the maid of honour. he’s charming and handsome, you’re single and looking for a good time. it’s an open bar wedding in swan valley and oh, he’s your ex boyfriend – what could go wrong? warnings – 18+ (sex, coarse language)

It had been 2 years in the making, the event of the decade your best friend had humbly coined her nuptials. And she was right – her and Blake had been waiting for what felt like a lifetime to show their love to the world or more specifically, to nearly 400 of their closest friends and family. It had been quite the build up with a global pandemic getting in the way and coordinating a wedding in Australia when so many of their guests were travelling in from overseas wasn’t easy. But they persevered and had finally made it to their wedding eve, guests from around the world checking into nearby hotels and resorts, excited for their big day.

For you, however, it was the rehearsal dinner that had you on edge from the second you stepped off your delayed Qantas flight that morning – stomach in knots over the unknown of it all. The few details that you were aware of were the ones that had you tangled up; the first being that you were Sarah’s maid of honour, one that you took very seriously but because of the border lockdowns and hectic work schedules, you hadn’t been as involved as you would’ve liked.

The second detail was the one that really had you in a chokehold. Up until this point, you’d avoided the inevitable, relief washing over you every time either Blake or Sarah said he couldn’t make it to the wedding party zoom call or when a suit fitting that Sarah had begged you to come along to was cancelled. Avoiding him had been a breeze so far, your communications kept mediated between your two best friends.

But today was D-day.

“You are rocking that LBD, girlie.”

Sarah’s voice brought you out of your phone and into the present, her bright white smile lighting up the room. It was the happiest you’d even seen your best friend and that alone was enough of a reason to grin and bear what was to come with him.

“Well I am technically single and hopefully out of the thousands of people you’ve invited to your shin-dig, there’s at least one suitor for me to have a crack at,” You winked, “But not your uncle Graham – he’s not my type.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned towards the full length mirror propped up beside your chair, “He’s back with Aunty Shirl so don’t worry… But I do know someone else who is single – definitely your type and actually mentioned you a few times last week.”

An interested hum slipped from your lips, curious to know who had been asking about you. Maybe you were in luck.

“Who was it?”

The way Sarah smirked and flicked her long blonde, perfectly curled hair off her shoulder should’ve given her away; “Just a friend of Blake’s – the classic tall, dark and handsome, you know… Brown eyes, absolutely hilarious and such a gentleman…” She continued, her tone teasing.

You blinked a couple of times, completely deadpanned as you stared your best friend down; “You better not be talking about Dan.”

“He’s still hung up on you, babe.” Sarah confessed, treading carefully.

“I don’t care,” You whined, irritated that this conversation was even happening. It had taken you months to move on, to mend your broken heart and now here you were, getting the run around by your supposed best friend who only wanted what was best for you. In her opinion, that was Daniel Ricciardo.

“Well just be civil with him. I know things didn’t end well and I know that you blame him for all of it and rightfully so,” Sarah quickly added, sensing your narrowed stare, “But you did love him once upon a time. A lot. And I know that you love me and wouldn’t do anything to fuck up my moment so get your sexy butt up so I can go see my husband.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

Anything to end this conversation, you thought.

Caversham House was beautiful. Everywhere you looked was picture-perfect – from the balcony overlooking the river to the four-story high waterfall framing the immaculate gardens, not to mention the painstakingly placed candles and floral arrangements hanging in every room. It was spectacular, tastefully extravagant and definitely worth the twelve-month wait.

The rehearsal dinner was strictly wedding party and parents only; everyone would have to wait until tomorrow to witness the event of the decade. Blake was the first person to come up and greet you, having only seen you a couple hours before when you’d arrived at the villas nearby. Michael was closely following behind with his wide smile; always making you feel loved,regardless of what had happened between you and his best friend.

“It’s really good to see you. Been too long, ey?” He asked, the pained inflection on his voice making you pout before you were ushered away by one of the other bridesmaids, promising him that you’d meet him at the bar for a drink later.

He was easy to pick out a crowd. The one who shall not be named; who had broken your heart into a million tiny pieces; who left you with nothing but an empty promise that maybe, one day he would find his way back to you. Utter bullshit.

He was standing with Sarah and her parents who practically raised you, chilled beer in his hand, smiles on their faces and loud laughs rousing the flock of ducks floating across the pond behind them. That fucking smile made you sick because it’s what landed you with said broken heart. Stunned in place, unable to process seeing him again after so long. It had only been six months but it felt like a lifetime without him – and without that stupidly infectious smile.

Daniel was the first to notice you walking over; truth be told, he’d been looking for you the second he stepped out of his hire car twenty minutes ago. Subtle scans of the garden and beyond, peeks over the balcony he was standing on, hoping to see you. He ached thinking about this moment, even last night in his hotel in Perth he thought about you – and whether you would speak to him, or even glance his way. You would have to, right? He was the best man and you were the maid of honour. Surely.

“Hi guys,” You smiled, confidence summoned out of nowhere, surprising yourself. Sarah’s parents were quick to pull you into a cuddle, claiming that you were too cool and way too busy for them these days, which the latter was true. You felt guilty but also knew they understood. They appreciated the little moments like this where they could get their whole family together again and you felt lucky to be a small part of that.

“We were just talking to Daniel about the season starting in a few weeks – are you going to be at the first race, love?” Sarah’s mum asked, and you hadn’t even registered that she was talking to you, assuming that everyone knew by now that you and Daniel had broken up.

Her question, albeit innocent, felt like a punch to the gut – one of the many painful reminder of how interconnected your life together had been for so many years. She wasn't the last person that weekend to remind you of what you'd lost, opening old wounds over and over.

“Actually Mum, I should go and find Blake and get started – your seats are over here…” Sarah was quick to jump into action, ushering her parents over to their table and leaving you and Daniel alone for what felt like the longest minute of your life.

He looked nervous but happy to see you. He looked jetlagged like you, and the way his frazzled curls fell onto his face indicated that the humidity had gotten to him already, the obscene summer heat doing the same to you. The small smile tugging on the sides of his mouth eased you, the quiet whistle he made also allowed you to relax. He was good at filling in uncomfortable silences – you, not so much.

“So…” You drawled, pondered out loud trying to fill the void, “Keeping well?”

Daniel stopped whistling and stifled a laugh at your seemingly innocuous question, “Really?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” You sharply shot back, chuckling at his judgement, “Great to see you? How’s the family? Like…”

Daniel shuffled his feet on the pavement and looked up at the darkening sky above, “No, you’re right – I’m sorry. It’s just… so fucking weird seeing you after – after everything that happened in Austin,” He leaned forward and whispered, eyes boring into yours as he spoke.

You gave him a small nod, hard features softening the longer you held his stare. You always felt safe in those eyes but right now, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in them like you usually would. Daniel could sense your vulnerability and averted his gaze to his sneakers, saving you both from the heartache.

“I know but I don’t want to stress them out,” You looked over at Sarah and Blake who were speaking with their MC, “So let’s keep our distance and get through the weekend without any drama, please?”

Daniel frowned at your suggestion, wanting the complete opposite of distance but he knew he had no right to fight you on it “Sure...” He settled, a pang of disappointment shooting through his chest, “I can do that.”

“Great.”

You turned on your heel and set your sights on the job at hand. It was no mean feat being the maid of honour to someone as capricious as Sarah but she was glowingly in love; blissful compared to a week ago when she called you in the middle of the night crying, thinking that she’d forgotten to book a DJ. Of course you reassured her and sent her the wedding itinerary for the hundredth time that week, easing her nerves like only a best friend could.

And Daniel was in the same predicament, moving around the room wrangling groomsmen into their agreed upon seating arrangement. All of this ensuing chaos hidden behind your respective smiles and you knew then that at some point you would have to join forces; like you did when you were together. Five years of being the dream team.

“Why did they decide to have a million people in their wedding party?” You whispered once everyone was seated; now waiting for the bride and groom to make their entrance.

Daniel chuckled as he shuffled closer to you, the cologne you’d bought him for his birthday years ago filling your nostrils. It warmed your heart to know that he was still wearing it after the break up, no doubt that it reminded him of you every time he put it on. So many memories tied up in the smell of that cologne.

“Makes no sense to me but I’m proud of you for not slapping Izzy when she refused to sit next to Mark,” Daniel whispered causing a stifled laugh to slip from your smirking lips, “You did good, chook.”

Your nickname fell from his lips too easily, too familiar and your eyes rolled involuntarily. Of course he’d call you that, pushing the boundaries because there had never been a moment in the time that you’d known Daniel where he wouldn’t step over a blurred line. Hell, that’s how it started with him – a drunken night out and breakfast the next morning. He was nothing if not persistent and loved that once upon a time. But for now, you both had to be laser focused on the people who had found each other because of the two of you – a blind date turned into happily ever after.

“You did good too.”

You stayed true to your word and got a drink with Michael once the rehearsal was over – taking full advantage of the complimentary drinks being served by the luxurious resort you were all staying at. As you caught up with Michael, you couldn’t help but scan around the ballroom, unable to fathom how picturesque this place was in real life. It was heaven on earth.

Months ago, you found out that Daniel had been the one to suggest the venue after Blake and Sarah’s original plans fell through during the pandemic and the days following that revelation were tough. Crying yourself to sleep kind of tough. Caversham House had been written in your dream journal since yours and Daniel’s third anniversary – you remembered his words like they were said yesterday.

“My cousin got married at this amazing mansion in Swan Valley last year. One of the most beautiful places in the world…”

It was a throw away comment; an observation that Daniel may not have even realised struck you so much. But you went home that night and googled it; concluding that if Daniel ever proposed and you got to plan your wedding, Caversham House would be the place you would marry the love of your life. You never voiced that to Daniel and sadly, that day never came.

But years later here you were, watching your best friend living out your dream and you couldn’t have been happier for her – for them. Daniel had missed his chance, thrown it all away for god knows what and you couldn’t help but feel your blood starting to boil as he approached you and Michael sitting at the bar, your memories like little daggers sharpening in your mind.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Daniel tentatively asked, a fresh beer in hand and a sheepish smile on his face. He knew he was.

“Nah mate. Pull up a seat if you want,” Michael replied and tugged out the stool beside him but Daniel glanced down at you with wide eyes, seeking permission before taking up Michaels offer.

“Join us.”

It was subtle but you could see Daniel exhale a sigh of relief, you knew him better than anyone. You could see the weight lifting from his shoulders as he sat across from you, trying to temper his joy that you'd agreed to have him anywhere near you.

And in typical Daniel fashion, he slotted into the group seamlessly, never an awkward pause of silence or a lull in conversation whenever he was around. He was the social butterfly, the one everyone loved and you were always content with that when you were together. After the split, it became obvious how much everyone loved him and you lost touch with most of your mutual friends – Michael included.

It was a bitter pill to swallow and you resented him in the beginning but watching him talk, crack the odd joke here and there you could understand why. Like Sarah had noted in her room earlier, he was the whole package but he broke your heart. And he regretted that every second of every day. He’d tried so hard to forget the way you smiled, the way you giggled softly, trying to suppress the real laugh that only he ever got to hear. You were glowing under the lights, hair swirling around in the evening breeze and Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off you.

The grimace on his face when you caught him made you smile, eyes narrowed with suspicion as he shrugged and mouthed, I’m sorry. You mirrored his shrug and took a sip of the glass of white wine he’d gotten you when he got up to get himself a drink. Truth be told, you couldn't keep your eyes of him either.

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting alone – Michael made up some story that he needed to speak with Blake and that he would be back but he never returned. And you hadn’t really even noticed his absence until your phone buzzed on the table between you and Daniel.

“… But being back on the farm over the break was nice – the kids asked where you were and said that they missed you a bunch of times.”

Daniel noticed the way you looked at your phone. The small smile followed by the lip bite gave you away and he couldn’t ignore the way his stomach dropped, knowing that expression all too well. It was one he’d been on the receiving end of so many times. You flipped your phone over, screen down and returned to your conversation with apologetic eyes, “Sorry, what did you say? Something about the farm?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Daniel smiled and nodded towards your phone, “Answer him if you need to.”

You were slightly caught of guard, naively thinking you’d kept your cards close to you chest. Or maybe you had and Daniel was baiting to see if you’d admit that you were talking to someone new, finally moving on after six months. He was hard to read but he knew you better than anyone and you hated the way he was watching you, waiting for a response.

“Nah, all good. It’s not a serious thing,” You stupidly confessed, internally face palming as the words slipped from your loose lips.

“But it is a thing?” Daniel was quick to enquire, selfishly wanting to know whether or not you had moved on, if he'd missed his chance.

“Forget I said anything, please,” You swiftly replied, taking a gulp of wine and wilfully hoping he would drop it. He didn’t want to but he could see the warning in your stern gaze, silently begging him not to interrogate you over this, not here.

“I just want you to be happy.” Daniel landed on; honest eyes boring into yours as he clasped his hands together and sighed loudly into the cool air. 

“I was happy with you and then you threw it away like it meant nothing to you,” You breathed, hands expressively falling to your sides and busying your fingertips on the hem of your dress.

“You mean – meant more to me than anything. I just… woke up one day and realised that you deserved better; more than what I could give you being away for months on end,” He quietly replied, the words feeling dry as he explained why he’d cut you lose and broke your heart.

The scoff erupting in your throat caught Daniel’s attention, “Don’t you think I should’ve been the person deciding that, not you?”

“Of course but in the moment it felt like the right thing to do and I fucked up… I really, really screwed it up, chook. Do you ever think–”

Suddenly, you heard your name being shouted from across the lawn, both you and Daniel snapping your heads around to see Sarah waving her arms like a maniac trying to get your attention, “Time for bed, guys! Early start tomorrow."

Neither or you wanted to end the conversation there, on a cliffhanger because simply being close to each other again fuelled something internally that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He gave you strength whenever he was near and you gave him solace, a sense of calm that nobody else could ever replicate. And tearing yourselves away from that was hard, so much so that a stand off had begun.

“After you,” Daniel motioned with a smirk, reading you like a book.

“You just want me to go first so you can check out my arse in this dress,” You teased and poked his shoulder, “Pervert.”

“Absolute tickets but honestly, yeah…” He winked as you stood up and smoothed out the dress that had ridden up slightly, his eyes shamelessly scanning your outfit, “Unbelievable.”

A blush crept up your neck as his words washed over you but you couldn’t let him see that, “Goodnight, Daniel.” You said, turning on your heel and fleeing the scene as quickly as you could, but not without a little strut as you walked away.

Daniel exhaled deeply and watched you until you were out of his sight, not even noticing the dip in the couch he was sitting on.

“Put your tongue back in ya mouth and go to bed.”

Michael had caught him red handed and now it was hit turn to furiously blush. He was down bad and had no idea how he was supposed to sleep, knowing you were a couple of villas down, thinking about him, thinking about you. He missed you in so many ways, the obvious ones now being the ones on his mind as he lay in bed, fingers trawling through his hair as he tried to think of anything else but you. What eventually lulled him to sleep was the promise of tomorrow – a new beginning.

After a couple of hours of complete and utter panic, the weather had finally decided to put on a show for the newlyweds. The clouds that had dampened the morning vanished as soon as the fleet of vintage cars rolled up the stoned driveway, arriving fashionably late. You had done your best to calm Sarah but she was already teary, eyes blinking rapidly in attempt to control the tears threatening to ruin her make up. Just breathe, you’d whispered as her sister made her way down the carpeted aisle, sun shinning down on the gorgeous archway at the top of the stairs.

“Let’s go and get you married to the man of your dreams, hey?”

That was all you needed to say before Sarah nodded and pushed you towards the open doors, one last wink giving you the reassurance that she would be right behind you. The ceremony was beautiful; there were many tears and laughter rumbling through the large crowd when Blake made a joke about her being stuck with him for the rest of her life. Everything else flew by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, Daniel was reaching out for your hand, clasping it gently in his as he guided you down the stairs and out to the balcony where the photos were going to be taken before joining the reception.

“Champagne?” Daniel asked you, flute already locked and loaded in his hand – he knew you couldn’t resist a glass of bubbly, not after such a stressful morning.

“Please and thank you,” You sighed, taking a sip and glancing over at the happy couple who had already started doing photos together.

“Can’t believe it’s actually happened.”

Daniel followed your eye line and smiled, “Who knew 4 years ago when we set them up that we’d end up here…” He pondered out loud and you agreed, you never would’ve guessed it, "It's amazing."

“I said it back then and I stand by it now; we should be professional match-makers. We’re literally 1 for 1 right now,” You enthused, reflecting Daniel’s grin.

“Oh, we’re fucking killing it. Alright, let’s see…” He trailed off and looked around the balcony at the other groomsmen and bridesmaids making small talk, “What about big Mike? Been single for a while now and way too obsessed with my shit so getting him laid would benefit me too… Izzy’s single, right?”

“She is!” You whispered a little too enthusiastically that Daniel jumped back and laughed, “But she’s a commitment girl so I don’t think a hit it and quit it vibe or his travelling would be a good match. Marcia is a bit rogue… definitely single and down for anything, I reckon... Ooo, this is too much fun!”

Daniel chuckled and soaked in your excitement – it had been so long since he’d seen you smile like that, so free and uninhibited. Like his simple existence wasn’t sucking the life out of you and wasn’t making you miserable for the first time in over a year. He felt guilty taking so much emotionally from you, the toll of his work effecting both of you in the end. He hadn’t said it out loud but he knew that his mental health was having a detrimental effect on you but you loved him. Loved him with every cell in your body and you would never have given up on him. And little did he know, you still hadn’t after all this time.

“You are so beautiful.”

Daniel’s words surprised you and there was a second of silence before he doubled down with a soft laugh, “Like, breathtakingly beautiful.”

What you did next startled Daniel. Your hand brushed over the buttons on his light blue jacket, fingertips gently readjusting the small flower arrangement pinned on the lapel as you took in his compliment. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t ignite a spark within, a small flutter of your heart making you blush as he reached out and grasped your hips in his warm hands. The silk was soft under his palms, barely even a second passed before you melted into his touch, wishing for more than a friendly exchange.  

“Thank you,” You whispered, eyes flickering up through your thick eyelashes – his brown ones gleaming with joy as you trailed your hands down his chest and gave him a soft push towards the photographers standing behind him, “Get that million dollar smile ready, Ricciardo because I think we’re being summoned.”

He continued to seek you out for the rest of the night, hypnotised by the smell of your perfume and the softness of your touches; the latter caused by the couple of glasses of wine you’d consumed.

Daniel loved it when you were a tiny bit tipsy. He loved the little giggles that you gifted him and the way you hung onto him just that little bit longer. The memories of the two of you stumbling down the footpath outside your home together last summer, barely making it up the stairs and through the door came flooding back when you whispered in his ear, “You are so bloody handsome.”

“Excuse me?” He chuckled; hand sprawled over the small of your back as he placed his jacket over your shoulders, “You heard me,” You shot back, smirk plastered across your face as you grasped his hand. “Come dance with me.”

Daniel had been waiting for you to ask, praying you’d be the one to drag him out onto the dance floor. You knew what you wanted and you didn’t hesitate throwing your arms over his shoulders, forcing his hands to snake down yours sides and grasp your swaying hips. The floor was packed with people dancing along to the DJ who was mainly spinning 90s R&B – a personal favourite of yours and the bride.

Daniel was in heaven as your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, the music transporting you back to the first time you met – the night when your life changed in the blink of an eye. He knew to savour it, never taking your intimacy for granted because he knew that you were hurting more than him, and you had every right to be. But in that moment, as he looked down into your glossy eyes, he saw the woman he fell in love with – the one he loved more than anything in the entire world. His girl.

You were barely inches apart when he leaned down and kissed you; lips ghosting before taking what they wanted, what they craved. Even though it was Daniel making the first move, you were going to if he didn't soon and the smile erupting on your face when he pulled back reassured him that he’d made the right call. Cutting the tension with a knife and making your blush under the thick layer of makeup that hadn’t budged all day.

There was a short pause as you stared at each other, unsure whether you were fully on the same page or not but Daniel didn’t want to wait any longer. He’d waited nearly six months to be with you, to touch you; to taste you.

“Do you wanna…?”

“Yes!” You hastily replied, making Daniel chuckle before he wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you off the dance floor and away from the loud music; both of you wildly aroused and tingling with anticipation.

The mansion where the reception was being held was enormous. Guest bedroom after guest bedroom lined the hallways so you were a little shocked when you were pulled into a bathroom at the end of the passageway. It was massive, bigger than your kitchen back home and the sconces hanging from the dark walls looked nearly 100 years old, barely emitting any light. It was definitely setting a mood and you weren't complaining at all.

“There’s locks on the bathrooms but not the bedrooms,” Daniel explained, sensing your surprise at his choice of location. You nodded and reached out for him, already missing the way his body felt on yours as he pinned you against the tiled wall, heat radiating down your spine as he feverishly kissed you again.

“You’ve done me in dirtier places,” You moaned and he chuckled against your neck, lips travelling across your collarbone and between your perky breasts.

The fire that had been smouldering in the pit of your stomach all night was being stoked by his firm touch, every trace of a fingertip or rough tug on your sensitive skin making you whimper with excitement. You needed him to fuck you good.

“I’d do you anywhere, honey.”

You hummed and roughly grappled Daniel’s curls between your fingers as he dipped down further and grasped the hem of your dress. A small shrug was enough to let the thick suit jacket he had given you fall to the ground, goose bumps erupting all over your arms as he left a trail of sloppy kisses up your thighs; stopping right where you wanted him and letting the flowy material of your dress drape over his head, disappearing from your sight. He knew your body like the back of his hand and knew you loved nothing more than his warm breath fanning between your thighs, glistening all for him.

“I want you to fuck me against this mirror,” You strongly suggested through batted eyelashes as he returned into view, a smirk painted on the supple lips that were seconds away from devouring you.

“Don’t want my tongue?” Daniel cheekily asked, still crouched down and gazing up at you with those big brown eyes, waiting for your response. “Maybe later,” You whispered, watching as he jumped up with a grin, eager to fulfil whatever you desired.

“Hands up where I can see them, ma’am,” Daniel playfully ordered and you played along, holding your hands up in the air as he spun you around so you were facing the dark mirror. You could feel yourself soaking through your flimsy panties and if you could feel it, Daniel definitely could as he slid his hand into the lace, cupping you gently and stroking a single finger through your folds.

“Spread ‘em,” He whispered into your ear before pressing a firm to your temple and kicking your heeled feet apart.

Your hands were gripping the sink in front of you; white knuckling already but knowing that this wasn’t anything compared to what Daniel could do to you. He once had you bucking on his thigh like it was the last orgasm you were ever going to have, screaming in pleasure like you were being tortured. And now, all you could think about was his hard dick pressing against your backside, taunting you under the thick material of his trousers.

“Danny,” You quietly moaned through gritted teeth and Daniel knew what that moan meant, not wasting a second before unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down to his ankles. He did the same with your underwear, except he bent all the way down to rid you of them so he could keep them in his discarded jacket pocket for safekeeping.

“I’m gonna need those back, sir.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t think so,” Daniel teased, standing back up straight and catching your eyes in the reflection in front of him.

“Gotta be quiet for me, okay?” He sweetly whispered, tongue swiping across the shell of your ear as he teased your hole with his soft tip, the feeling of your excitement mingling together making your shiver, “Already feels so good.”

You hummed as Daniel nudged forward, his thickness took your breath away as you closed your eyes and leaned over the sink a little more; taking all of him, inch by inch. He could feel how tight you were, trying to not let his mind wander to whether you’d been fucked by anyone else since the break up. Because if you had, he knew it wasn’t anything compared to how good he could do you with the way you were already choking back moans. Whimpering for more.

“Relax for me, honey. The clenching feels crazy fuckin’ good for me but I need you to just take me nice and slow,” Daniel coached, smoothing his palms over your hips and slowly rocking you back and forth against him, “God, your arse really is something else,” He rasped, lightly tapping your rump as you looked up at him in the mirror, narrowed eyes sending him a stern warning.

“Don’t even think about it and don’t try the whole ‘oh, I accidently slipped’ trick because I know you,” You playfully scowled, trying to hide the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips.

Daniel tipped his head back and cackled at you calling him out, revelling in the banter and the fact you knew him inside and out. He’d missed being called out on his shit and he loved nothing more than when you teased him during sex, the laughter ringing off the walls while he watched himself disappear into you.

“You’re tight enough already, baby so no shenanigans tonight,” Daniel groaned and jutted his hips forward, jolting you closer to the mirror in the process. He readjusted his tight grip on the satin dress that he'd bunched up around your hips and caught your gaze in the reflection again, “I bet old mate texting you last night couldn’t fuck you like this, ey?”

“Never gave him the chance,” You panted in reply, eyes trained on Daniel’s as he pounded into you, thighs trembling in pleasure as he stalked you, every little wince or twitch never went unnoticed and you felt hot under his gaze, his hot breath and soft groans fanning into your ear.

“Good. No man deserves you, honey – not even me.”

The little burst of confidence his words gave you spurred you on as you bounced back and met his hips with a slap, quickening the pace and really pushing the limits on how loud you could be in such a public setting. Your voice was coarse and your knees were quivering as Daniel trailed his hands up to your chest, boobs practically spilling out of the satin dress as he bucked into you. He gently pulled down the loose fabric, along with the lacy bra and cupped your breasts in his hands, using them as leverage as he fucked into you. Proudly watching his work unfold in front of him.

The feeling of his rough palms massaging your breasts was enough to cause a loud, pornographic moan to rip from your throat – one that could’ve been heard for miles. One of Daniel’s hands shot up and covered your mouth in an attempt to keep you as quiet as he could while got you off, wanting nothing more than having come undone around his stiff cock.

“Look at how damn sexy you are right now,” Daniel grumbled, eyes trained on yours so intensely. You nodded and moaned into his palm, feeling like your souls were re-connecting as he slowed down the pace and relished the feeling of you wrapped around him, bouncing on that dick so perfectly. He was in paradise.

Until the handle on the bathroom door started jiggling beside you, the loud bang that followed made both you both jump out of your perspiring skin. Daniel’s hand lingered over your mouth, his dick stilled inside you as the handle rattled again – more aggressively this time. The person on the other side didn’t say anything; the only sound swirling around the humid air was bated breath, both of you winded from the adrenaline. And from how exciting it felt nearly being caught with him filling you to the brim.

“Fuck,” Daniel whispered as he looked up at you and dipped his head into the crook of your neck, “Do you wanna keep going?”

The deviant side of your brain was screaming hell yes but the rational voice that kept you level headed was telling you to hit the pause button. It was risky enough doing the deed so publicly, something that you and Daniel never shied away from but right now, when you were both supposed to be at the beck and call of your best friends at their wedding; it all seemed a little bit decadent.

“We should get back,” You whispered, confirming what Daniel already assumed as he slowly pulled out and strategically manoeuvred his semi hard dick into the waistband of his underwear, attempting to hide how hard he still was in those deliciously tight pants.

“Good call… but uh, that was fun,” He stuttered and watched you smooth out your dress, his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head as you looked in the mirror and gently wiped under your eyes; removing any signs that you’d just been fucking your ex in a bathroom.

“Really fun,” You replied, wicked smile lining your smudged lips as Daniel stepped forward and helped you back into his suit jacket.

“We should do it again some time…”

“Absolutely – when were you thinking?”

“Oh, I dunno…” He pondered with a cunning smirk, “Maybe like, now?”

You chewed your bottom lip between your front teeth and sighed; you loved that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, both dying to finish what you started and maybe indulge in even more bad behaviour. It was like old times but different - good different.

“I’m staying in the Cliffside suite so… meet you there in halfa?”

Daniel clapped his hands enthusiastically and rubbed them together, “Sounds like a great fucking plan to me,” He agreed, grinning big and gently pushing you towards the door he was opening for you, looking both ways down the hallway.

“You go first so I can watch you walk away from me in that dress,” Daniel quietly teased as you sashayed down the hallway and back to where the reception was still going strong, “You are killing me!”

“I know!” You shouted back, flipping him the middle finger before spotting Sarah on the dance floor, eyes suspiciously narrowed as you shimmied over to her, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

“Where did you get to?!” She yelled over the music, definitely on her way to being drunk from the flutes of champagne that were still being served by the gallon.

“Just needed to freshen up!” You shouted back and looked over your shoulder at Daniel who had joined a conversation near the bar.

There was a giddy feeling that washed over you after you turned back to Sarah and listened to her ramble about how good the music was and how much fun she was having. It was a familiar feeling; the same one you had the night you met Daniel all those years ago. But now, in his home state, surrounded by so many people you loved, you had both been gifted the rare chance to start over.

To fall in love all over again. This was your second chance at a happily ever after.

a//n – thank you for all the support and patience on this one! thoughts? feelings? i wanna know all of them! or click here for more of my writing x

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was dealing with a lot of firsts today. 

The biggest one being the first time he was getting married. Though, Eddie really hoped it wouldn’t be the last. If his fantasies about this day came true he was going to have to insist on a vow renewal somewhere down the line. Fuck it, if even a quarter of what he wanted came through he’d still insist on it. He was never not going to like showing Steve off, and this was the most ostentatious way he could get away with. 

Next, and most distressing, this was the first time Eddie had ever felt the lethal mixture of being incredibly happy and horrifyingly nauseous. He had no idea that a person could feel both things at once, and Eddie was starting to think the ability was just a flaw of the human condition. 

And last, he is a 100 percent sure he had never been this damn nervous in his entire life. Especially when the source of it was entirely self-made. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how he used to feel with Steve, back when he decided to be a fucking crazy person. 

But this was so much worse. 

“You really need to relax,” Chrissy said for the hundredth time, watching as Eddie fiddled in front of the mirror, “That anti-perspirant can only go so far.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. He was on one today, he knew that. But knowing it wasn’t stopping any of his anxiety. Eddie was trying to fix his hair in the mirror, suddenly unpleased with how it was styled but unwilling to go bother the stylist that did it. She was busy enough with everyone else, let alone the fact that he didn’t even know why he didn’t like it. If anything he was just making it worse. But then again, Steve always said he liked his hair wild, right?

“Hon, I’m serious,” Chrissy sighed, grabbing for his hand to drag him away, “You are driving yourself crazy for nothing. Everything is going to be okay. He’s going to be there. Are you forgetting that it was Steve who asked you to marry him?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even now. The little shit had beaten him to the punch by a matter of days, completely ruining Eddie’s elaborate proposal plans. No, instead Steve decided to do it in the dead of night, getting down on one knee in the middle of their living room after getting destroyed at an impromptu game of scrabble. 

Eddie should have seen it coming, he really should have. But he had been so caught up trying to plan his own proposal he had completely missed the signs. Like how Steve kept picking movies that involved proposals and weddings, and how he was always very interested in what Eddie thought of them. Eddie just hadn’t realized how many notes he’d been taking around his innocuous comments. Not until Steve showed him the scrawled out list he had made down the line:

Not public, he said he wouldn’t want to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. Not again (whoops, sorry babe but at least this one would have been happy tears?)

Close to a bed or a bed-like surface for “celebrating” (I should have seen that one coming)

Diamonds are apparently ~stupid~ so look at colored stones instead (maybe emerald for his birthstone? Stick with sliver tones.)

No where cold so he can focus on the moment instead of freezing

Make it a surprise (But not outside? I don’t want to wait till summer though. Maybe I can do it randomly? Like when his back is turned?)

Write. A. Speech.

Eddie had to give it to him, his notes weren’t in vain. It had been amazing. Tailor-made to him in a way he didn’t even fully get until it was over. Because he had started crying, right in the middle of their living room with no one but Steve to see him. And it had felt so fucking safe. There was no embarrassment, no worrying over someone he didn’t know taking their moment to share with more strangers, none of it. It was just them. 

He had fucking loved the ring, the colors, the style, all of it fit him perfectly. The only thing he loved more had been dragging Steve straight to their bedroom spoil him rotten for hours. The speech had been beautiful, for what he had managed to hear through his own excitement and tears. He had ended up asking Steve to write it down for him considering how he couldn’t trust his own memory. Now it sat on a cute index card he kept in his wallet, right alongside his cute scrawled out list, a constant reminder that Steve Harrington wanted him.

It had been perfect. Almost too perfect. Perfect enough for Eddie to be where he was right now, the doubt of how he ended up with Mr. Perfect. 

from the upcoming last chapter of this fic

[lightlycareless]

I saw your posts about how Naoya doesn’t want a third in his bedroom activities with Y/N and how he reacted with Naoaki. But do you think that Naoya would ever let Toji join in as a third? I can’t quite tell if he would or if that’d be even more intimidating to him since he couldn’t think how you couldn’t be super into it with Toji. It probably wouldn’t happen either way since you mentioned in one of works that Y/N is intimidated/a little scared of Toji

Hello!!

Not going to lie, I’m really happy something like this popped up in my ask hahahahah I was waiting for it!! It was inevitable, you know???

But now, going onto a more serious note—

After thinking about it and really wanting to say that Naoya wouldn’t share you even if it was Toji we’re talking about… because like, he admires Gojo but he wouldn’t allow that with him, right?

However, the admiration he has for Toji is at a completely different level compared to anyone else, and if he began to show the simplest of interests in Y/N, there’s no doubt in my mind that Naoya would try to create interactions between the tw, so they’d get to know each other, spend time, that kind of stuff.

 But does that mean he’d allow him to fuck you?

… Toji would first have to show interest in you like that in order to even be considered.

Warnings: mentions of infidelity (I’d go with dub-con at this point) mentions of pregnancy, and Toji mocking Naoya in all crude ways possible. Also, someone likes this kind of stuff a bit. (honestly this is me just wanting to write something with toji. the actual answer is on the bottom lol) SMUUUTTTT MINORS DNI.

a sequel can be found here.

It happens soon after you’re brought to the estate.

You’re the newest addition to the Zen’in clan: a bright smiled, innocent looking girl that surprisingly (not really) fell into the claws of the heir.

Toji had become accustomed to the women that caught Naoya’s interest—the type that would make anyone think “of course he likes someone like her.”

But they never lasted beyond two sightings before he was already with someone else, and certainly, no one ever thought of them as suitable candidates for marriage.

Eventually they stopped appearing all together, and for a long time, Naoya was single as he could be… until you arrived.

Someone so… different to Naoya in every sense of the word, far outside his typical interest, or malleability. Yet you managed to not only catch his attention but persuade him into marriage—and it seemed you wanted him too.

It’s safe to say that these things made Toji deeply intrigued by you—and not only because of your outstanding merits towards his seemingly unconquerable cousin, but also because on a personal level, he found you a beauty hard to ignore, much more delightful than those before you, and soon, he finds himself somehow understanding why the wimpy heir decided to marry you.

But his amazement doesn’t stop there, reaching a new high when finally meeting you, face to face, for the first time. It wasn’t just your aura, which he considered to be highly unfitting to the surrounding environment, that affected his perception, but the way you treated him as well.

Even when intimidated by his presence— just as he expected, used to it by now—you still remained amicable towards him; to the disgrace of the Zen’in, the stain in the family lineage no one even dared look at, less mention.

Not to you though. To you, he was Naoya’s cousin, his admiration, the one he sets as inspiration when it comes to strength, partaking in small talk whenever possible before retreating, but not without expressing how you’d like to see him around more often, perhaps even drink tea together one day…

Toji is completely smitten by you at this point, and the question of how you even set your eyes on Naoya, when there were so much better options, quickly settles in his mind.

But perhaps how you managed to inundate his thoughts, to the point you are all he thinks about, is the bigger question in turn.

The topic of a threesome is nothing more than a fantasy to him at that point— highly unexpected, if not impossible, and completely avoided…

That is, until tensions between you, Naoya, and Toji, become far too much to ignore.

It would start with Toji complimenting you, like the devil whispering against your husband’s ear, he’d say…

“You have a beautiful wife, Naoya.”

And your husband is somewhat elated to see that his idol approves of you, somewhat seeking his approval one way or the other.

But after his words become more cryptic, to say the least, hesitation begins to flourish in Naoya’s mind.

“Do you ever wonder she feels lonely after you leave for work? In this wide, cold manor… it’s impossible not to—I know all about it, after all.”

“… is there something you want, Toji-kun?”

Here is where the idea finally makes its appearance in your and Naoya’s conversation—offered by you, shockingly, but not because you were interested, rather, because that’s the conclusion you arrived to after hearing Naoya’s request of, in his own words…

“I want you to spend more time with Toji-kun, so he doesn’t feel… lonely.”

“It almost sounds like you want me to fuck him.”

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it.”

He remains silent.

“Naoya… do you want me… to?”

You were nothing but highly aware of his admiration towards the man. The constant proclamations of his virtues the rest of the clan failed, or didn’t care, to observe—even going as far to defend him against them when needed.

It gave you a certain happiness to know that Naoya confided in someone that way, pushed him to overcome his limits, so naturally, you’d want to do anything for the man that brought out the best side of your husband.

But you never, not even in your most bizarre dreams, expected his fascination to go to these lengths.

However, as much as you were offended by his indiscreet suggestions, a very deep part of you was also… allured by it.

There is no reason to deny the mystery that surrounded Toji—a kind of atmosphere that even though terrifying to you, you still couldn’t keep your eyes away from him, silently trailing his every move from a safe distance while earnestly wondering what a man like him could spend his time on when away from the estate.

Does he… goes to see someone? Spend the night, or weeks, in someone’s arms whenever he didn’t come back?

Or indulge in shady business as most began to suspect? As the occurring scars appearing on his arms and chest suggested?

It’s not something you’ll get to know, you dejectedly reckon, but you suppose that getting to know him, even if just for a little bit, will make the invitation to your… nightly activities, all worthwhile.

“…so that you won’t feel lonely.” Is the excuse you go with when bringing up the matter to Toji—probably the dumbest one you could’ve given him considering how he doesn’t hesitate to erupt into laughter, amused by this silly, stupid pretext of yours.

As well as infuriated, for the one thing he hated the most right after his family, was being pitied.

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m some kind of miserable animal.” He scoffs once his glee dies. “Don’t come here, offering things you’re not even sure about, just because you want to feel good at my expense.”

Naoya and you rightfully conclude that not only had you been incredibly immature by going through with this unusual request, which wouldn’t have survived as long as it did have it been literally anyone else, but also, dented whatever little relationship the two had with him—although your concern sustained more for Naoya; you could only imagine how this strain would make him feel…

And yet, even when the foreseeable future had apparently darkened, closing windows for any kind of reconciliation thanks to his disgust towards the whole situation… something in Toji’s demeanor told you he hadn’t given up on the idea.

Whether because he saw the growing, genuine anxiety reflecting on the young couple’s face, or because he was glad his subtle actions finally paid off…

“But who am I to reject opportunities handed to me?” He adds—it’s almost undetectable, but something akin to desire flashes across his eyes. “If that’s what the heir and his lady  want, I’m nothing but your humble servant.”

You and Naoya agree on a night for everything to unfold, one that wasn’t necessarily intruding on his upcoming missions, but also fit in Toji’s schedule.

Either way, it’s safe to say that no amount of preparation could’ve done anything to ease your nerves.

Not even the constant reminder that you agreed to it, and now, had to keep your word.

The idea of inviting someone into your intimacy had always escaped your and Naoya’s minds. The reasoning behind it was simple: you did not want to do something like that in your marriage. It was almost… sacrilegious to even think about it. And Naoya agreed, too jealous to debate otherwise.

So now, that you’re here, waiting in your bedroom, just a few minutes away from those doors sliding open and welcoming that extra person in… it’s as nerve-wracking as you expected.

Almost to the point of calling it off…

But when Toji finally appears, in nothing less than a simple robe… something deep inside your conscience quickly reminds you why you were so willing to accept suggesting this offer, even when you had listed a thousand reasons not to.

You loved your husband very much, and there is no doubt in your soul that he is the love of your life, the future father of your children, the one you will spend the rest of your life with. You cannot imagine any other man in that position, none at all.

But tonight, and only for tonight… you wished to know what it felt to be touched by someone else.

By a man so intimidating, rejected by the same society that brought him onto this world, forced to be unruly, without inhibitions, just to have a chance to survive and eventually becoming nothing but shade, a monster that no one even dared to mutter his name for fear he’d come to haunt their existence—something that your husband never experienced, never had to.

Pristine, upkept, and highly controlling. That’s who Naoya was.

While Toji was like the forbidden fruit, that once the seed of curiosity was implanted in your mind, didn’t take long for you to seek after.

If you were to get one taste, if only a small one, you’ll be satisfied.

And in turn, you’d give him a chance to soil the values you represented: the untouchable wife of the heir, the woman Naoya desperately fought to obtain, the door to the next generation of Zen’in sorcerers…

All crumbling beneath the touch of someone they considered the lowest of the low, a disgrace.

This was supposed to be an affair between the three, with the obvious notion that you were to be shared amongst the two men, as equitable as possible, although with preference for Naoya.

However, Toji’s existence had always marked an exception to all rules, and your husband soon realizes that he wasn’t to be an active participant as he wished to be, and that perhaps, this was a bad idea all along…

Toji found it endearing to see how Naoya was trying to “get you in the mood” by kissing you, as if trying to cheer you up through this amoral endeavor, and do your best to please him, darling!

But the same time, it felt almost as if he were seeing a bunch of virgins discovering what sex was for the first time, which he did not have the patience for.

Feeling rather generous, Toji takes matters into his own hands by swiftly pulling you away from Naoya and forcing you to focus on him—coarse fingertips kneading and grabbing your skin as to remind you who you were doing this for in the first place—all while capturing your lips into a heated kiss that quickly takes your breath away.

“What? Don’t want this anymore?” he breathes hotly against your ear, making you squirm and whine in turn. But while his words were directed to you, his eyes are nothing but locked onto Naoya’s uneasy ones.

Your husband isn’t naïve when it comes to the teasing nature of those around him. How he believes everyone is out to get him, try to get what he has, yet failing miserably.

He’s seen it on Naoaki, how he attempts to get to him through you, teasing you, flustering you, but overall, keeping his attention on you, because after all what said and done, Naoya is still a figure of respect and he wouldn’t dare mess with him directly.

But Toji isn’t like that. He’s nothing like all he’s ever faced before. His cousin is relentless when it comes to disrespecting authority, more so when it comes to your husband. Naoya just makes it too easy.

Maybe it’s another way for him to get back at the Zen’’in. Spit on their faces and let them know that no matter how much they try to isolate him, look away whenever he crosses their paths, act like he doesn’t even exist—

A monkey like him will always find its way around them. To rattle them.

And he wants Naoya to see that.

He wants him to burn the image of his wife being ravaged by a lowlife like him—touching her, defiling her, and…

How she likes it.

“Do you see that? Do you see how well she takes me?” Toji breathes, a smirk on his lips as his eyes remain on the lewd way your cunt squeezed his cock as if struggling to hold him yet trying so hard to keep him inside.

Toji didn’t know whether to laugh at the seemingly too good to be true notion of the innocent, naïve, well liked by everyone wife of the heir throwing her hips back into him whenever he plunged his cock deep into her pussy.

At the way you’d moan whenever he abused that one spot that made you even tighter, the squelches of your greedy pussy evidently enjoying how your walls are being stretched, in ways it hadn’t as he was able to discern from Naoya’s size, or the squeals you’d gift him whenever teasing your asshole with his fingers, slapping your ass soon after, one of the many markings he’ll leave behind of this unforgettable night…

But most importantly, at the fact that Naoya was completely aroused by a man defiling his beloved wife. Because as much as he wished to place himself above it all, like he was hating the idea of sharing you, his throbbing cock and occasional rub in efforts to calm his frustration gives him away.

“Are you getting off with this, Naoya?” Toji would refer to him yet again, pace unrelenting as he subdues you beneath him. You can’t show it, but you’re glad you’re unable to see your husband’s face—it’s much too shameful to do so, if not terrifying.

But thrilling

“With the sight of your loyal wife, oh so dedicated to the heir…”

“St—Stop it To—Toj—ah!” you gasp when he pulls you by the hair, raising your face and forcing you to see Naoya, but with all the pleasure he’s giving you, you’re simply not there. “T—To—ji…!”

“And yet, here she is. Taking a monkey like me, right in front of your dear husband, like her life depended on it!”

“N—No…!” is what you manage to gasp through the brief seconds of awareness, doing your best to not show the feelings he was pushing your body through—obviously failing. “Don’t—don’t say—!”

You weren’t oblivious to this treatment.

After all, Naoya could be rough, borderline cruel, teasing, and yet…

He was nothing compared to Toji.

It’s always been like that. Even when many denied it, Toji was just on another level, and if his merits in the world of jujutsu didn’t show that, your incessant moans proved so.

“To—ji—Toji….!”

Naoya had long begun to feel as if he were watching something he shouldn’t—as if he were intruding on a couple’s intimacy, and not as if he were your husband, the partner in question…

But with the way Toji was fucking you, manhandling you into positions he wasn’t even aware he could do, less you tolerate… it’s like he was the one invited over for a threesome, and not the other way around.

“Look at her, Naoya.” He smirks, licking his lips as he continues pounding against you in the nth position that night—the one Naoya hated the most, for it forced him to take a good look at what was happening to you.

Toji had you with your legs raised, arms keeping you still and hands locked behind your head as his cocked plunged deep and viciously deeper into you, a lewd sight that Naoya couldn’t avoid due to the nature of this position.

Naoya could take any situation, perhaps even naively hoped that he would be able to withstand more of this if he didn’t get to see how Toji fucked you…  but he knew he had lost control of the situation the moment his cousin set his eyes on you, and now, couldn’t do anything but stare at the libidinous fact of his cock claiming your entrance repeatedly as you lose yourself into the pleasure.

“Look at the way her cunt takes me.”

Your husband doesn’t respond, he can’t, not when his gaze is solely focused on your blank eyes, mouth agape, drooling, while your moans reveal the overwhelming extent of pleasure he knows he’s never given you.

“She’s squeezing me so tight, it’s like she doesn’t want to let go!” Toji laughs, and really, he’s happy you don’t—this is confidently a thrill he hasn’t experienced in a long time, if ever!

It felt almost demoralizing to do such a thing, but yet, what will a man like him know about morale? Or even care after all the horrible things he’s gone through?

“Do you even fuck her right, cousin?”

He looks forward to keeping this moment in his heart till the end of his days…

If not longer, as the revelation that suddenly crosses his mind implies, the only moment that would snap you and Naoya out of trance when acknowledging this wasn’t just senseless rambles of a man drunken in pleasure, but a threat to their relationship, if not the clan.

“I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces once they figure out you’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Toji, don’t—” Naoya gasps, eyes snapping to his.

“N—No, To—Toji! is what little manage to muster before Toji locks you in on place once more, as if reminding you of your position before one of his hands snakes down to tease your sensitive bud, fingers roughly squeezing and twisting it, making you moan and tense as your orgasm pushes you closer and closer the edge—a sensation Toji can delightfully feel building up in his throbbing cock as well. “Ple—please Toji!”

Please what?

Please don’t cum inside you?

Or please cum inside you?

You don’t know at that point anymore.

But not that it matters, it’s not a decision for you to make anyways, not when he continues to plunge his cock against you, deeper as he could reach, bruising your cervix, against that spot that has you seeing stars, a few more strokes, and then—

He cums.

He cums, letting out all of his warm, thick seed into your tight walls, and filling you to the brim. Deep inside your core and with an extravagant amount you couldn’t hold, managing to escape through the rim of your entrance and drip down onto the sheets, a sight Naoya could not peel his eyes away from, reinforcing the overwhelming feeling of wrongness against all, and yet… he did nothing to stop it.

Naoya didn’t fight it, didn’t push his cousin away or even condemn him.

He just watched everything unfold, the same way you did through your hazed eyes, and took it.

“N—No…” you whimper, doing your best to raise your hands onto your face and hide from him, urge him to look away, but you couldn’t, and he didn’t, filling you with shame amidst your orgasm as Toji rubbed out the last wave of your release, unwittingly tightening against his still hard cock, making him moan in your ear. “D—don’t look, Naoya…”

“A baby.” Toji breathes, still high on his release—he doesn’t know if he really means it, or it’s just the side effect of his orgasm, but he’s too drunk to care. “A baby from a disgrace like me and a saint like you—I wonder what will come out of that?”

His cock suddenly slips out of your cunt while adjusting himself, accidentally splash some of it’s seed onto Naoya’s grasp. Your husband looks at it with utter disgust, but he can’t discern whether it’s for the fluid, the notion of you being pregnant with someone else’s child, or that he secretly enjoyed witnessing all this.

“But most importantly…” He breathes, raising his eyes to Naoya once more. “What will you tell the elders once they find out? How will you explain that your wife is carrying a bastard, simply because you wanted to see a disgrace like me fucking her?

“You—you won’t get her—one time isn’t enough.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” He mocks, Naoya frowns. “I wouldn’t bet on it—"

Toji sighs, taking a deep breath before reaching for his cock, aligning it onto your entrance, giving it a teasing rub or two that quickly has you whining in reproach, trembling at the prospect of another session like this when you’ve barely rested—but moaning when he finally enters you, throwing your head back as he goes all the way back to your cervix, stretching your walls and pushing the rest of his seed out, before nestling the tip just where you he liked and staying there.

He smiles, raising your legs yet again, before beginning to thrust.

“After all, I’m not done yet.”

Neither you nor Naoya would bring this up again.

Keeping it a secret between the two, hoping the third wouldn’t use this as blackmail, offering whatever it took to hide this affair from the clan, even if the answer was one they weren’t sure if they wanted to listen, more so when Toji simply… eased them to not worry, telling them that:

“If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

Although he knows it wouldn’t take long before one of you approaches him in the future for a similar affair, knows it’ll happen, it’s just a matter of time.

But whether it’ll be you, or Naoya… that’s something he’s thrilled to find out.

Omg. Well, that was interesting to write 😊 So long story short: if Naoya were to know this would happen, he would NOT invite Toji for a threesome hahaha. And in an ideal world, the thought of being with anyone else but your husband is enough to scare you away from it—as I told you, NaoyaxY/n is my way to go. It is what it is. So nope, no threesome with Toji. You're too intimidated by him anyways.

But does that mean I will deny myself from writing things like this? NOPE. Hahahaha I still hoped you enjoyed it!! Now I gotta write the Naoaki one….

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! I hope the hentai plot going on was good lol.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[smilingformoney]

Icebreaker | Alexander Dane/Reader

I. Never Meet Your Heroes

Summary: As a budding actress and a big fan of Alexander Dane, all your dreams are coming true when you land a role in Galaxy Quest opposite your favourite actor. To your disappointment, Alexander doesn't seem to like you very much - but unbeknownst to you, he's trying desperately to ignore his attraction to you.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

You were almost vibrating with excitement on your first day on set.

You hadn’t taken part in the table read, as your casting was so last minute, so this was your first time meeting the cast and your first time playing the scene would be when the cameras were rolling. You were nervous, but you didn’t mind - you’d spent plenty of time as a theatre understudy, so you were used to playing a scene against someone you hadn’t rehearsed with. What you weren’t used to, however, was playing against such famous names.

If that weren’t enough, your main scene partner was to be none other than Alexander Dane, who just so happened to be your favourite actor in the world.

You wouldn’t quite say you were obsessed with him, but you had seen all his films, and you’d even managed to see him perform Shakespeare in London once, though you’d missed out on seeing him at the stage door. You also had a poster from his performance as Richard III on your wall, and hidden away in notebooks you’d never shared with anyone were fanfictions you’d written about his Galaxy Quest character, mostly involving romances between Dr Lazarus and characters you’d made up that totally weren’t stand-ins for yourself.

And now… you were actually going to play a love interest to Lazarus!

All your dreams were coming true. Your first TV role, in Galaxy Quest, with Alexander Dane, playing Lazarus’ love interest!

You absolutely, resolutely, could not fuck this up.

Your character’s name was Bethany, a fellow member of the Mak’Tar race, who, like Lazarus, believed herself to be the last of the race until she and Lazarus meet by chance and the two are faced with the question of whether they should procreate to repopulate their species.

On your arrival, you met with the production assistant, who led you to hair and make-up to be fitted with a cap similar to the one Alexander wore to make yourself look like an alien.

You were almost done, your hair now completely hidden by the cap and the last of your make-up being applied, when the door was thrown open and none other than Alexander Dane stepped through and sat himself down in the chair next to yours, completely ignoring you, which was fortunate because it gave you an opportunity to close your mouth when you gaped at him.

“Let’s get this blasted thing on quickly, Lena, I want to get today over with,” Alexander grumbled.

Lena, the make-up artist, rolled her eyes and continued working on you with hardly a flinch at Alexander’s abrasive attitude.

“I’m nearly done here, Alexander, then I’ll be with you.”

Alexander looked over and seemed to finally notice you. He frowned, then saw the matching cap on your head, and rolled his eyes.

“They’re going ahead with this bloody plotline, then,” he grumbled, then immediately grabbed a magazine from the dresser and stuck his nose in it.

You hadn’t said a word, and yet somehow you felt like you’d managed to fuck up your meeting with him.

“Don’t mind him, [Y/n],” said Lena, apparently completely unaffected by Alexander’s grumpiness. “He’s always like this. I must be his least favourite person on set because I’m the one who puts his cap on.”

“Third least,” Alexander replied from behind his magazine. “After Jason and Frank.”

“Jason Nesmith, he plays Taggart,” Lena explained to you. “And —”

“Frank Ross, the creator, I assume,” you finished.

Lena smiled. “You’ve done your homework!”

“I watch the show, I know who created it.”

Alexander groaned and lowered his magazine to finally look at you, albeit via the mirror. “Great, they hired another fan. When did this show stop hiring actors?”

“I can be both!” you said defensively. “Besides, what’s wrong with hiring fans? There’s no point in creating art if you don’t love it.”

“Pfft. I’d hardly call this show art. It’s nothing but meaningless drivel, and this episode’s no different, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’re creating something great just because you’re on TV.”

“All done!” Lena announced, ignoring Alexander, and she stepped aside to let you examine yourself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Wow, that is weird,” you laughed, turning your head to the side to examine your new alien look. “You can’t even tell I’ve got hair underneath! I look pretty good, actually, maybe I’ll shave my head after this.”

Alexander scoffed. “Take the cap with you, make it a new fashion trend.”

“Right, Alexander, it’s your turn!” Lena announced, and the actor just sighed.

“Fine, let’s get it over with.”

Lena gave you directions to the costume department and you left feeling even more anxious than before about your scenes with Alexander Dane.

---

Although your background was in theatre, you knew from industry knowledge that in film and TV, scenes were never filmed in order. So it was a surprise to you that your first scene of the day was actually your first scene of the episode. Your character Bethany was locked in a futuristic alien zoo, gaped at daily by an alien species that marvelled at “the last Mak’Tar.” That was, until the crew of the Protector came by to rescue another alien from their zoo habitat, and Lazarus found Bethany in her cage.

You ran through the scene with the director a few times before Alexander’s arrival. Once he did arrive, he only talked quickly with the director before getting into position, and suddenly you were moments away from your first scene.

The director raised her megaphone. “ACTION!”

Lazarus approached the invisible barrier that surrounded the habitat, staring in disbelief at the figure curled up on the floor. The floor itself was wet sand with small pools of seawater, just like the environment of his home planet of Tev’Meck. Without the rest of the zoo in his periphery, he might even have believed he was back on Tev’Meck.

He glanced down at the information screen. It was all written in an alien language he couldn’t speak, but he recognised two words: Mak’Tar and Tev’Meck.

Lazarus walked around the enclosure slowly, trying not to wake the figure on the floor, until he was able to get a good look at them. Sure enough, they shared his physiology. Could it really be that another one of his kind was here, in this zoo?

A crash in the distance caused Lazarus to look up suddenly. Taggart, no doubt, causing chaos as he attempted to escape with the alien he’d come to recover.

He had to get out of there. And if there was a chance this sleeping figure really was another Mak’Tar, he had to get them out of there too.

Lazarus circled back around to the information panel and hacked the operational code he’d learnt earlier before coming to save their target. A few beeps later, the forcefield was down, and Lazarus stepped into the habitat, crouching down by the figure to wake them.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

He grabbed the figure’s shoulder, rolled them onto their back, and recoiled slightly in shock. It was a female Mak’Tar!

The woman opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep, frowning in confusion at seeing a figure looming over her.

Lazarus composed himself and knelt down again.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help. My name is Lazarus, I’m a Mak’Tar too. What’s your name?”

“…Bethany,” replied the woman, pausing as if it took her a moment to remember.

“Well, Bethany, how would you like to escape?”

“I… I think I’d like that very much.”

Lazarus smiled and nodded. “Excellent. Take my hand.”

He stood, and Bethany took his outstretched hand. Wow, his hands are soft , you thought as Lazarus pulled Bethany to her feet. She took a step, but stumbled. Lazarus glanced down and saw that she was favouring her left foot, her right being bandaged. Without hesitation, Lazarus threw her arm around his shoulder and helped her stumble out into the corridor.

“Cut!”

For your first take, you thought it had gone pretty well. You hadn’t messed up once! Whether or not Alexander agreed, you weren’t sure, because he simply released your arm from his grip and immediately walked back to his original mark for the second take.

You ran through the scene three more times, filming from different angles each time, until the director concluded the scene finished.

What amazed you about Alexander was the way he switched between Lazarus and Alexander with ease. Action - he was a hero, a lone survivor who had to contain himself at the possibility of finding another survivor in favour of concentrating on a quick exit. He was smiling as he pulled Bethany to her feet, his eyes warm and kind, and just a little excited. Cut - he was an actor, a grumpy thespian stuck in a job he hated, just getting through the day until he could throw the cap back in Lena’s face and stomp off home. He let go of you as soon as he could, not looking at you or even acknowledging your existence outside of the scene.

Ever heard the saying never meet your heroes? Well, you were discovering now why that was true. Alexander Dane was your favourite actor, your idol, your celebrity crush and the reason you’d pursued acting in the first place. And, it turned out, he was a massive jackass.

You weren’t naïve; you hadn’t gone into this expecting your crush to fall in love with you and whisk you off on some romance. You hadn’t even expected to make friends with him. But you had hoped to at least have a good working relationship with him for the week you were there and to come away with some fun stories about the week you spent on the set of Galaxy Quest.

Apparently, that wasn’t to be. So you resolved yourself to give the best performance you could and hope the fans liked your character when the episode aired.

Your next scene took place on the viewing deck, Bethany having successfully escaped the alien zoo and finding herself on board the Protector. You stood in front of the glass that separated you from the green screen that would be replaced in post-production with the vast expanse of the cosmos, gazing thoughtfully through the window as the director took some establishing shots of you standing alone.

When she was happy with the solo shots, the director called action for Alexander to make his entrance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lazarus said as he stepped up beside Bethany, looking out at the cosmos and remembering what it was like for him when he first looked out into space from the safety of the ship.

“It’s terrifying,” Bethany replied quietly, and Lazarus frowned at her.

“Terrifying?”

“It’s so big… so easy to get lost.” She raised a hand and lightly placed her fingertip against the glass, covering an entire galaxy with just her fingertip. “How many species are out there?”

“Billions, I suppose. It’s impossible to count. Trillions of life forms… and none of them like us.”

Bethany looked up at him. Alexander’s profile was illuminated by the stage lights, emphasising the outline of his nose.

“How can you be sure? Maybe others survived. We did.”

Lazarus shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so. Even if there are… the chances of finding them are minuscule. It’s a miracle I ran into you.” He looked down at her and smiled, not a trace of Alexander’s regular irritation on his features. Lazarus was only kind, curious, and a little hesitant. “Perhaps it’s fortunate that I found you. So we can… keep the Mak’Tar species alive.”

“For now.” Bethany looked back out at the vast cosmos. “We’ll both die eventually, though. Then the Mak’Tar are done for.”

Lazarus hesitated. “Not necessarily. There would be more of us if we were to… make more.”

Bethany kept her gaze firmly fixed on the expansive view from the window.  She blushed slightly - you had never quite grasped forcing the blood to rush to your cheeks, but you could at least act as if it had - then shook her head.

“No, I… I think it’s best not.”

Lazarus was stunned. He collected himself and said, “And let our species die?”

Bethany turned back to Lazarus, and as much as you understood her motivations, you selfishly wished the scene were to end with a passionate make out session.

“It’s survival of the strongest, Lazarus,” Bethany said. You very suddenly realised you’d missed a line, but your theatre instincts kicked in, and you continued. “Our people were squashed like bugs when someone stronger came along. One day, our conquerors will be destroyed by someone or something stronger than them. And so the cycle continues - until there’s nothing left. Why delay the inevitable?”

“All our history, our culture - gone —”

Bethany shook her head. “It’s not gone. It’s just a story now.”

The script called for Lazarus to be speechless, so you gave Alexander a few moments to let the emotions play out on his face, then Bethany glanced out the window again.

“I think I’ll ask to be dropped off on Atera. It always looked very pretty in the books.”

She glanced uncertainly at Lazarus one last time, and when his stunned silence continued, she walked away, leaving him alone with the crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t save his species after all.

“Cut! Great first go, guys, but [Y/n], you missed a line. After Alexander says ‘and let our species die’ —”

“‘Nothing lasts forever.’ Yeah, I know, sorry. Got ahead of myself.”

“Well, at least you kept going,” Alexander said as he came up to where you were standing to take his starting position again. “Most TV actors would have broken character, swore loudly then insisted on trying the whole thing again. You held it together like a true thespian.”

You smiled coyly. He was complimenting you!

“Well, my career has been theatre so far. I’m used to having to improvise on the spot without breaking character.”

Alexander smirked at you conspiratorially. “Honestly, I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes. On camera, you stop and start again when you make a mistake - everything has to be so perfect. And once the filming’s done, that’s it, no going back. In theatre, you do it a little differently every night. It’s so much more…”

He paused, looking for the right word.

“Organic?”

Alexander looked at you with surprise, as if it were a wonder you understood.

You wanted to talk to him more about theatre, something you both clearly loved, but you had to do the scene five more times to get the right camera angles, so you returned to your mark by the window and readied yourself to do the whole thing over again.

When the scene was finally declared finished, you were done for the day, so you returned to the make-up room to get your cap taken off. Alexander had one more scene to do on the brig, so once Lena had released your hair from its captivity and you were back in your regular Earth clothes, you snuck into the back of the set to watch the cast wrapping up. When else would you get an opportunity to see a classic Galaxy Quest brig room scene being filmed?

Jason Nesmith was giving one of his classic Taggart speeches, all the crew showing rapt attention except for Lazarus, who was seemingly distracted.

The speech concluded, the crew applauded and set to work, and Taggart swaggered up to Lazarus at his station.

“Lazarus! Something up, buddy? You didn’t applaud or nod once during my speech. Was it not inspiring enough for you?”

Lazarus looked up at his captain and smiled good-naturedly. “Very inspiring, Captain, thank you. My apologies, I was…”

He glanced forward thoughtfully, looking at the cosmos through the window and remembering his conversation with Bethany earlier. Alexander in fact looked behind the cameras, and straight at you.

“…distracted,” he finished.

“Ah, thinking of that new girl, are ya? Not surprised, she’s a pretty one. I presume. If she had hair instead of your head thing, I’d think she was pretty. Suppose she’s pretty to you, isn’t she?”

“Mhm…” Lazarus responded, Alexander’s eyes still fixed directly on you. He blinked, as if snapping himself out of a trance, then turned back towards Taggart. “Yes, I suppose she is. Excuse me, Captain.”

He stood and exited the scene by the doors at the back. Jason finished the scene with a conversation with Gwen DiMarco, then the director called cut.

“Great take, everyone! Alexander - your best one yet. You really sold us on how conflicted Lazarus is. Alright, that’s a wrap for today, we’ve got some sets to prepare over the weekend so we’ll see you all bright and early on Monday!”

The crew began shutting down and you slipped back out so as to not get in the way. You were at the cloakroom collecting your coat and bag when Alexander, still in his costume, came up to you, taking you by surprise.

“Jesus! Sorry, Alexander, you scared me.”

He smirked. “Sorry. I just wanted to say, you weren't awful today. Did you say you came from theatre?”

You blushed, and you could feel that this time your cheeks really had gone red. “Oh - wow, thanks. Erm, yeah, nothing major, I’ve just been understudying the last couple of years.”

“Nonsense, understudies are vital! Learning everyone’s roles and being ready to take any one of them on at any moment? No wonder you did so well today without rehearsal. Listen, the cast and I are heading out to a bar tonight. It’s not often we get a whole weekend off. Would you like to join us?”

Surprise and excitement sprung up inside your chest. Surprise that the man who’d been grumpy all day was suddenly being nice, and excitement at the chance to socialise with the Galaxy Quest cast.

“Sure, I’d love to! Where are we going?”

Alexander winced. “Paolo’s Karaoke Bar. I’d avoid that place like the plague myself, but there are private rooms so we won’t be disturbed by fans, and the beer is good.”

“How many beers do I have to buy you to convince you to sing?” you grinned.

“I’ll be blackout drunk getting my stomach pumped before you get a note out of me. Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I’d love to come!”

“Great - and no recording any of it,” Alexander added sternly as you slipped your coat off again and came back inside to wait for everyone to finish getting out of their costumes. “If even a single photo of this ends up on Twitter, I’m holding you personally accountable. We don’t usually invite fans to join us, but since technically you’re an actor…”

“No tweeting, got it. I do just need to let my roommate know where I’m going, though. In case of, you know, murder.”

Alexander frowned at you.

“It’s a girl thing. Go, get de-capped, I’ll wait here.”

Alexander sighed, muttered something about young people, and left you waiting in the hallway, wondering what the night had in store for you.

---

You didn’t remember much of the taxi ride to Alexander’s house. Apparently it took half an hour, but you hardly paid attention, as you were far too busy snogging him in the back seat to care how long you’d been in the car for.

You came up for air when the taxi pulled up to the house, and once you ungracefully clamoured out of the car, Alexander paid the driver while you stared up at the Beverly Hills mansion.

“You live here alone?!” you gasped.

“Welcome to the rich side of town,” Alexander replied, his feet as unsteady as yours as he approached you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Wanna see the inside?”

“Hell yes.”

After some fumbling with his keys, Alexander managed to get the front door open and he ushered you inside. He switched on the lights, and you gasped at just how huge and open the space was. Half the walls were all window, and those that were actual wall were lined with posters from Alexander’s previous projects - mostly his theatre shows, with a few films here and there.

“That’s the one I have,” you laughed, pointing to the poster of him from Richard III.

Alexander wrapped his arms around you from behind, his erection pressing into your arse as he held you close. “Is that so? How many wanks did teen [Y/n] have staring at that poster?”

“Far too many to count.”

“Did you imagine your fingers were mine?” Alexander murmured softly in your ear, one hand travelling tauntingly slowly past the waistband of your trousers. “Did you slip them inside trying to emulate my cock? Because believe me, mere fingers couldn’t come even close to stretching you the way my cock can.”

“I - I have a vibrator named after you,” you admitted, anticipating building up inside you when Alexander cupped your cunt with his hand, savouring the warmth you were radiating against him.

“My, you really are a naughty thing, aren’t you? Let’s see if my fingers live up to your imagination.”

You gasped as he slipped his middle finger inside you, firm and thick, his skin slightly rough and absolutely nothing like your own.

Alexander kept one arm firmly around your chest, a hand cupping your breast through your top, and you had to lean back into him to stay upright. He buried his face in your neck, teeth and tongue exploring your skin, his hair tickling your face slightly. His thumb circled your lower lips, searching for that sweet spot, and when he found it, you moaned, which quickly turned into a hiccup.

Alexander smirked against your neck, but when you hiccupped again, he paused his sensual movements.

“Hic - sorry,” you mumbled, your head spinning slightly from the combination of alcohol and arousal.

“Sit down, I’ll get you some water,” Alexander said softly. He pulled his hand out of your pants, which you thoroughly disliked, but you did feel better when he deposited you on the couch and went into the kitchen to fetch you some water. The couch was warm and soft, and you felt like you could just sink into it and sleep as comfortably as on a bed…

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your front, your eyes blinking open, though you quickly squeezed them shut when you saw the sunlight pouring in from the window.

You buried your face in the pillow and let out a groan. Your head was pounding. Great, you’d woken up with a migraine.

No… it wasn’t a migraine. It was a hangover. You could feel the familiar ache in your stomach as it tried to digest the alcohol you’d consumed.

You’d been hungover enough in the past to know your routine. Toilet, coffee, a greasy breakfast and a shower, in that order.

You reluctantly sat up in the bed, your eyes adjusting to the light, and your heart skipped a beat in fear for a moment when you didn’t recognise your surroundings. Whose bed were you in if not your own?!

You looked around for a clue, and on a wall was a glaringly obvious one - a massive four-panel framed art piece featuring Alexander Dane’s brooding headshot.

Oh god, you were in Alexander Dane’s bed.

…Alone. Where was the man himself?

You rolled out of the superking-sized bed, which was difficult as you were slap bang in the middle. You reached the edge eventually, and when you threw the covers back and sat up, you noticed that your trousers and bra had been discarded, but you still had your top on.

You trudged into the en-suite bathroom, which was bigger than your own bedroom, and sat down on the toilet. You’d solve the mystery of how you ended up alone in Alexander Dane’s bed in a bit - you had to take care of business first.

When that was done, you were feeling a bit more awake, and managed to find your discarded trousers on the floor. You couldn’t find your bra, so you pushed that thought aside for later, and turned your attention to finding Alexander.

He was, you discovered, fast asleep on the sofa in the living room, mouth gaping most inelegantly as he snored, one leg bent and the other splayed on the floor, with one arm on his chest and the other behind his head.

You nudged him softly. When he didn’t respond, you tickled his exposed armpit.

“What the fuck!” Alexander grumped as he shot awake, his arm instinctively clamping down against his side to protect himself from any further tickle attacks. He blinked, delirious, then saw you standing over him and frowned. “[Y/n]? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that,” you replied. “Last I remember we were at the bar, next thing I know I’m waking up in your bed without you in it.”

Alexander sat up, looking just as affronted by the light as you were, and he rubbed his temple.

“I don’t remember anything after the bar either,” he mumbled. “Why am I on the couch?”

“Dunno. I’d suggest you were a gentleman and insisted I took the bed, but from what I’ve learnt of you in the last day, you probably just collapsed on the sofa and I took the bed for myself.”

Alexander grunted, then yawned. “Ugh. Want some coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

“‘Course I am. More of a gentleman than you seem to think.”

Alexander pushed himself up off the couch and shuffled off towards the kitchen, then paused halfway to pick something up from the armchair.

“This yours?”

He turned and offered you your own bra, and you blushed.

“Oh… yeah, I was wondering where that was.”

Alexander passed it to you without much thought, then continued his half-asleep trek to the kitchen, leaving you to wonder why the fuck your bra had been discarded on the armchair.

You quickly pulled off your top and set about putting your bra back on, trying to be quick before Alexander saw you, but of course by hurrying you fumbled more with the catch and it took you longer than you’d have liked before you finally got the straps over your shoulders and pulled your top back over your head.

“How do you like it?” Alexander asked when you entered the kitchen.

“Strong and black.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

You blushed again and sat yourself on a stool, looking around the kitchen, trying to remember something, anything, from your journey between the bar and Alexander’s bed.

“I vaguely recall offering you to stay at mine rather than get a taxi to your place alone,” Alexander said after a few moments. He was staring at the coffee maker as it boiled, as if his memories from last night were in there. “But after that, nothing until you attacked my armpit.”

“I don’t even remember that much. I think my memory ran out of storage about 2am.”

“So you remember karaoke then?”

You grinned. “Yes, I remember karaoke.”

“Mmph. Unfortunately so do I.”

Alexander poured you a hot cup of coffee, and when the first sip of the bitter drink passed your lips, you felt as if your soul had been renewed.

“That is the best thing I have ever tasted in the history of anything,” you sighed happily. “Both because I desperately need caffeine and because that’s a damn good coffee.”

“Some fancy stuff Gwen got me for Christmas,” Alexander said, leaning against the counter as he cradled his own cup like it was his salvation. “I don’t usually share it, so you should be honoured.”

You smiled. “It’s the greatest of honours.”

You were silent for a few minutes as you savoured your drinks, you trying to recall the previous night and he remembering small slivers of moments as his memory slowly came back to him.

He remembered coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water only to find you’d passed out on the sofa. He had tried to wake you, but you were out cold, so instead he hoisted you up and carried you to his bed. Exhaustion hit him, and he didn’t want to share a bed with you without your permission, so he relegated himself to the sofa instead.

That was all he remembered. How your bra had ended up on the armchair, he had no idea, because he was certain he’d dumped you on the bed fully dressed.

Once he’d managed to send you on your way, Alexander sat down at his computer and logged on to boot up the security programme. He had installed security cameras around his house in case of a break-in, not in case of lost drunken memories, but he absolutely had to know why your bra had made its way to the armchair.

He loaded the living room camera from the previous night and scrubbed through the footage until he saw the two of you walk in through the front door, then he slowed down and watched.

You came in first, followed by him, and - oh, god. His hand was down your trousers almost instantly. You looked very pleased with his actions, but you were clearly wasted - almost as soon as he left to fetch you some water, you sat down on the sofa and passed out.

Alexander watched as he carried you into the bedroom, then returned shortly after to pass out on the sofa himself. The armchair was still braless so he sped up the footage, until about an hour later when you appeared at the doorway.

He’d apparently not fallen asleep yet or was sleeping lightly, because you had only to say something to have him sitting up. You perched yourself on the arm of the armchair, the two of you exchanged words with each other - Alexander cursed himself for not having audio recording on this thing - and, to his own surprise, he stood up from the sofa, crossed the room in a few long strides, and his lips were on yours.

He watched himself sit on the chair and pull you onto his lap, and from the camera’s angle he could mostly just see your back, but it was plain that the two of you were kissing passionately. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, then grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled the whole thing over your head. You reached behind to unclasp your bra and threw it over the back of the armchair, where he’d find it later that morning.

Alexander sighed. What on earth had he been thinking?

Well, that was no question at all. His stupid, primal, drunk man brain had thought, Woman wants to fuck me. Dick wants to fuck woman. Must obey dick.

Never mind how young you were, or how drunk, or the fact that you were a bloody fan, probably just eager to tell your friends that you’d scored with Dr Lazarus.

He watched the screen anxiously, waiting for something to happen that he’d regret. He watched as you pulled away from the kiss to say something, and his horny, drunk self grinned excitedly.

Had he really fucked you and forgotten all about it?

On the screen, you said something else, and his past self paused. He said something, you replied, and he shook his head.

You seemed to protest, but he insisted and pushed you off his lap. You were apparently irritated, by the way that you grabbed your top and stormed off, leaving him to drag himself back to the sofa and fall back asleep, both of you leaving the bra behind on the armchair.

Alexander scrubbed through the footage just to be sure, but nothing else happened until you appeared hours later to wake him up.

He closed the footage and leant back in his chair with a sigh. He was relieved he’d apparently changed his mind about your drunken fumble, but now he had a conundrum. Should he tell you what the footage showed? Surely you too were wondering how the bra got there. Or did you know? You’d seemed just as confused as he was, and in fact seemed to not remember anything at all about coming back to his house. Or maybe you were just covering it up by pretending not to remember anything at all.

What would be the point in telling you? “Hey, [Y/n], I checked my cameras and we almost hooked up but apparently I changed my mind and sent you to bed. Just letting you know.”

If you knew, you might think it meant you had a chance with him. Alexander didn’t have anything against dating other actors, but he did have a strict rule about fans. He couldn’t possibly be with someone, whether for one night or long term, who just saw him as Dr Lazarus. Besides, if you liked the show, that clearly meant you had straw for brains, and he had higher standards than that.

No, he decided, it was best you didn’t know about that little fumble. On your next filming day, he would be nothing but professional, and any idea you might have of having a chance with him would quickly disappear.

---

Alexander’s version of “being professional” was to be even ruder to you than usual. You had no idea why he was being so abrasive, but he hardly spoke to you in the make-up room, chatting exclusively to Lena and giving you short, one or two word answers if he had to speak to you at all.

With no memory of the events on Friday, you could only conclude that Alexander just didn’t like you, though he didn’t seem to like anyone, so you tried not to take it personally. Even so, being rejected by your favourite actor for no apparent reason was soul-crushing to say the least.

You knew trying to talk to him and getting rebuffed would just upset you, so you decided to follow his lead and keep conversation to a minimum. While the cameras were rolling, you had an intense, uncertain relationship between your characters, but as soon as the cameras stopped, Alexander was back to ignoring you.

Even with his cold attitude towards you, you still managed to make the most of the experience, choosing to focus instead on the thrill of being on the Galaxy Quest set. Your character was in three episodes, arriving towards the end of your first episode, spending your second episode travelling with the crew, and in the third episode they dropped her off on a planet to settle down after her years in captivity.

The second episode was the most fun to film, because you got to be part of the crew for a while, and interacting with the other actors helped you forget Alexander’s permanent cold shoulder.

Just as you’d filmed your first scene first, you filmed your last scene last, and you travelled out on location for the scene, which was set on the planet of Atera.

Bethany said her goodbyes to the crew as they climbed aboard the ship to set off again, waiting on board as Lazarus stayed behind to speak to her alone.

“You’re sure you won’t come with us?” he asked. “There’s so much more to see out there.”

Bethany smiled sadly and nodded. “I’m sure. I need to figure out who I am outside of a cage before I go looking for adventure. But…”

She took his hand, which was soft again - did Alexander Dane moisturise?

“I’m very glad I met you, Lazarus. I thought I was alone in the universe, but… now I know you’re out there, I won’t feel so alone anymore.”

He looked at her searchingly, almost imploringly, as if looking for a last-minute way to convince her to stay.

“I’ll miss you,” Lazarus admitted.

“I’ll miss you too. Will you visit?”

“I want to… but we don’t often return where we’ve been.”

“Oh,” Bethany said sadly, glancing away, and your heart skipped a beat when Lazarus gently put an arm around her shoulder and pointed up at a constellation in the sky.

“That’s where we’re going. Always forward. So if you do miss me… just look up. That’s where I’ll be.”

Just look up. That’s where I’ll be. Alexander had been trying fruitlessly to convince Frank to take out that cheesy line, but it had been a losing battle.

Bethany craned her neck to look into the sky, then turned to look at Alexander next to her.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Lazarus looked down at her.

“My dear, I think you may well have saved me.”

Bethany kissed his cheek and smiled sweetly. Lazarus hesitated, but he let her go and made his way to the ship.

She waved him off, and when cut was called, you thought it curious how familiar kissing Alexander on the cheek felt, as if it were something you were completely comfortable with.

Perhaps you were getting too into character.

---

You were admittedly disappointed with how unceremoniously you left the studio. You had your cap removed in the usual awkward silence with Alexander, who just grunted at you when you said goodbye.

In the theatre, you knew straight away how people felt about your performance. You’d sometimes hear reactions in the moment; otherwise, you’d receive (or not) applause at the end, and reviews were online and in the papers the very next day.

Television was different. You had signed an NDA banning you from sharing details of your character or the storyline you’d been involved in. And the episode wouldn’t air for months, so you had no way of knowing how your performance would be received.

The other strange thing was that you could watch your own performance on TV along with everyone else.

Over the months since your week on set, you’d found a role as an understudy in a production of Sweeney Todd, and in between rehearsing for three different roles and occasionally even getting to perform them, you’d made some good friends with cast and crew members, all of whom supported one another’s various attempts to make a career in LA.

So when the day came that your first episode would air, you had your friends over to watch your episode with you, many of them also fans of the show, or if not they came anyway simply to support you.

You didn’t appear until the very end of the episode, Bethany’s getaway into the Protector with Lazarus and the rest of the crew acting as cliffhanger, but it was still an incredible experience to watch yourself, in full prosthetics, acting in Galaxy Quest with Alexander Dane - who, despite being a complete jackass, was still your favourite actor.

“Oh my god, I so ship them!” your friend Stephanie, who played Johanna, crooned as soon as the credits rolled. “[Y/n], please tell me you and Lazarus get together!”

“I can’t tell you what happens, you know that!” you replied, throwing your hands up in innocence. “By pain of death. Or, well, by pain of a big payment if I was responsible for any leaks, and I can not afford that.”

“Eiw, did you have to kiss Alexander Dane though?” Stephanie gagged.

“What do you mean, eiw?”

“He’s ancient!”

“He’s not! He’s 53.”

“Don’t bother, Steph, [Y/n]'s in lurrrrve with Alexander Dane,” scoffed Mike from costume, who’d found out about your crush when you’d bonded over a shared love of Galaxy Quest while he fitted you for your Mrs Lovett costume.

“I am not! I’ll have you know he was really rude to me all week we worked together. Hardly said a word to me. He’ll always be my favourite actor, but as a person? Hard pass.”

Perhaps that pass would be hard, because as it turned out, the fans loved your character. So much so that you were invited as a late addition guest at the Galaxy Quest convention in LA two weeks after your third and final episode had aired.

You gladly accepted - you were going to go anyway as an attendee, but as a guest? That was a much better option. You gave your ticket to Mike, who almost cried with jealousy that you were being invited as a guest.

You’d never been to the convention yourself before, as it was always in LA and you’d always lived in London, but you’d always followed the posts about it online, and you knew that the actors always went in their costumes, including Alexander wearing his cap. Would you be expected to do the same? You didn’t even have your costume anymore.

You arrived at the hotel on the Friday night and checked into the room you’d been given. The guests all had rooms on one floor, separated from fans, and your room was right at the end of the corridor - no doubt the last room available as you were invited so last minute.

You’d hardly begun to unpack your suitcase when you heard a knock on the door.

You opened it, your anxiety telling you that someone was about to tell you there’d been a mix up and you weren’t invited at all, but to your relief you recognised Lena, the make-up artist.

“There she is! Thought I’d bring this over and make sure you still fit.”

She held up a coat bag, no doubt containing your costume.

“You do costume now too?” you joked as you stepped aside to let her in.

“I do at things like this - cheaper for them to send me out on my own. Have you gained or lost any weight since filming?”

“Uh - I guess I might have lost some,” you said. “I don’t really keep an eye on it. But I’ve been doing a show so that keeps me in shape.”

“Ooh, which show you in?” Lena asked, and you told her about your time understudying in Sweeney Todd while she got you out of your clothes and into your costume.

“Aw, I’d love to see you in it some time! But I suppose you never know when you’ll be on, do you? That must be so hard learning all three roles. Gosh, look at you, you have lost weight! If we were filming I’d take the waist in a bit, but since we’re just here for the con, we can get away with it.”

“Am I gonna have to wear the head thing? I know Alexander always wears his.”

Lena scoffed. “Yeah, only to lower the risk of Galaxy Quest fans recognising him outside of the show. I got it with me if you want, but you don’t have to.”

You bit your lip and thought about it. You really didn’t want to wear it, but if Alexander was wearing his, you kind of felt like you should, in solidarity.

Then again, he didn’t care about your feelings, so why should you care about his?

“May I make a suggestion?” Lena asked.

“Absolutely not, you lowly make-up artist,” you scoffed.

Lena laughed. “You should wear it. Everyone’s still buzzing about Bethany, and since you’re so new to the scene people won’t recognise you without it yet. And it’ll be super cute if you and Alexander both wear it for your photo session! Here, let’s get you out of the costume for now, I’ll come back tomorrow to put it on you proper.”

“What photo session?” you asked as you turned around to let Lena take the costume apart.

“Haven’t you seen your schedule yet?”

“I had literally been here for five seconds when you knocked on the door. I haven’t even had a piss yet, let alone looked at my timetable.”

“You and Alexander have a double photo session in the afternoon. People pay $30 each for photos with you individually, or $50 for a pic with both of you.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” you sighed.

“That’s what he said too.”

“I’m surprised he even agreed to do it. He hates sharing the spotlight - although I suppose he doesn’t feel threatened by me. Still, I’m surprised he’d agree to spend any more time in my presence than he has to.”

“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” Lena told you as you stepped out of the costume and gratefully began putting your far more comfortable, human clothes on. “He’s just a miserable bastard. He quite likes you, actually.”

You scoffed.

“He hardly spoke to me all week during filming.”

“Maybe, but after you went home each day, he’d tell me how well you did in your scenes that day. And Gwen tells me he spoke highly of your performance after your episodes aired.”

“I’m surprised he watches the show.”

“He loves to watch himself. Right, that’s me done with you for tonight. The intro panel’s at 9 and I’ve gotta get Alexander’s cap on too, so I can come by at 7.30 with some breakfast and coffee to wake you up while I get you fitted. Sound good?”

“So long as the coffee’s strong and black, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Flirt.”

Lena winked at you and left, and with the promise of a 7.30 alien head thing fitting, you decided to get an early night.

---

No amount of black coffee could have prepared you for the convention.

You were shuffled through back corridors to behind the main stage at 8.45, where you found most of the main cast were waiting, all dressed in their costumes.

“Hey, it’s [Y/n]!” Guy said cheerily when he saw you. “Man, am I glad you’re here. This is my first con too, and I’m bricking it. I’ve been to loads before as a fan, obviously, but never as a guest. I’m so nervous!”

“Oh, er, me too,” you replied, a little taken aback by Guy’s enthusiasm so early in the morning. You glanced over at the others, and noticed one body missing. “Hey, where’s Jason?”

“Running late, of course,” grunted Alexander from the chair he was slouched in, looking as miserable as ever. “He’ll show up ten minutes late on purpose, all to get that extra round of applause.”

He didn’t even look up at you to say hello.

You turned to Guy.

“Hey, when they introduce us, d’you think we could go on at the same time? Then we can power through that terrifying first entrance together. I’m terrified of walking on stage after everyone else and getting crickets chirping.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Guy said with relief. “I’m so glad you said it. Yes, let’s do it.”

Alexander snorted derisively. “What, are you scared of walking on a stage?”

”This is a little different from a theatre show,” you retorted. “In the theatre, they applaud at the end, and they applaud based on your performance. Here they’re applauding us as people, and none of them know me. Or has it been so long you forgot what theatre bows are like?”

Alexander did look at you then, his eyes narrowed, as the others chortled at your dig.

“Remind me why she’s here?” he grumbled to no one in particular.

“Because we got about 200 emails last week asking if she’d be here,” replied the convention host, who decided now was a convenient time to walk in. “Right, you guys ready to go?”

The convention passed in a whirlwind. You were hurried from panel to signing to meet and greet with hardly a chance to breathe. You met hundreds of fans, whose names you scribbled alongside your signature then promptly forgot, and you took every chance you had to remind the fans you were talking to that you were one of them.

In the afternoon came your photo session with Alexander, and finally you got a moment of peace when you entered the room ten minutes before the fans were to be let in - although, you suspected, they were already lining up outside.

While the crew got the backdrop ready, you collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief.

“You still have a day and a half to go, you know,” said a familiar voice.

You looked up to see Alexander leaning up against the wall, looking at you with amusement.

“I didn’t think so many people would want to see me,” you said honestly. “Sure I didn’t have a line like you guys had, but mine still didn’t stop. I think I’ve met more people this morning than I have in my entire life.

Alexander scoffed. “Yep, and they’ll be back tomorrow, expecting you to remember them all individually.”

“How many have asked you to say that line?”

“Too fucking many. How many have asked if you’re coming back?”

“Pretty much everyone.”

“What have you been telling them?”

“That Alexander Dane’s a twat and will probably refuse to work with me again.”

He laughed, but he didn’t deny it. He sighed, then came to sit by you.

“Look, I know I’m a twat. I’ll try to make this tolerable for you.”

“Gee, thanks. No one’s forcing you to do this with me. Couldn’t you have just said you didn’t wanna do a double shoot?”

“Actually… it was my idea.”

Now that surprised you. You looked at him questioningly, and he sighed.

“Look, Gwen always hates these things, alright? Blokes are always trying to touch her. It happens less when a man is there, as stupid as that is, so Jason or I usually do a double shoot with her.”

“And you thought they might do the same with me?”

Alexander shrugged. “Sure, why not? These basement dwellers don’t know how to act around a woman - add the fact you’re gorgeous and all hope is lost. So let me know if you’re uncomfortable, alright?”

You nodded, hoping Lena had caked you in enough make-up to hide your blush at the fact he’d called you gorgeous.

As it turned out, Alexander was right - fans really did have wandering hands. After the third narrowly avoided grope, you pulled Alexander aside before the next fan stepped up.

“Alex, that’s three guys who’ve tried to grab my arse already,” you whispered. “What do I do?”

“What? Who?”

Alexander looked around as if the groping fans might still be lingering, but they’d long been ushered away by event staff.

“I told you, [Y/n], you need to tell me when it happens.”

“What am I supposed to do? Shout ‘hey, everybody, this guy’s grabbing my arse’? That’s so embarrassing.”

Alexander thought for a moment.

“Alright, when it happens, you poke me with two fingers. I’ll pretend I noticed it myself.”

“Oh, planning non-verbal cues already, are we?” you joked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, [Y/n] - if we fucked, I’d make sure you were very vocal.”

Your cheeks burned for the second time in that hour, but you had to push your sudden explicit thought about Alexander to the side, because you had two more hours to go of this torture.

Most of it went by without any more unwanted groping, but you were nearly at the end of the queue when one ball of sweat dressed in a very poorly made copy of Alexander’s costume placed his hand firmly on your rear.

You froze for a moment, then remembered to poke Alexander with two fingers. His head immediately whipped around and he looked down to see the fan’s hand far lower than it should be.

Alexander may be grumpy all the time, but there was a difference between grump and anger. He was never really angry unless he was acting - but he certainly wasn’t acting now.

You were fairly certain you didn’t even know half the swear words that came out of his mouth as he yelled at the fan. A brave staff member tried to intervene, but Alexander simply turned his vitriol to them, yelling at them for not making the event safer for female guests.

He ended his rant by ushering you along with him as he stormed out, and you felt a mixture of emotions - relief to be out of there, guilt for the fans still in line, and a bit (okay, maybe a lot) of arousal at Alexander defending you.

“Prats,” he cursed bitterly as the door closed behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the corridor. He turned to you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied awkwardly, not really sure if you were being honest. “Thanks for, um, rescuing me.”

Alexander pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring as he shot a dark look back at the door.

“You got anything else on this afternoon?” he asked you.

“No, that was my last thing.”

“Do you want to go back to my room and raid the minibar? I usually get pissed on the agency’s credit card alone, but I guess you wouldn’t be the worst company.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Make the most of it. Come on, I know a way upstairs we can go to avoid being seen.”

Alexander led you up to the floor you were all staying on, and you were halfway down the corridor to his room when your path was suddenly intercepted by Jane Doe, one of the new cast members for the reboot.

“Hello!” she announced cheerily, grinning at you both.

“Lal - er, Jane, what are you doing here?” Alexander said with confusion. “I thought you couldn’t make it this weekend.”

“It is my birthing day! We are having a party. You are coming too.”

Alexander glanced at you. “Oh - er - we’ll miss this one, actually. But happy… birthing day.”

He tried to step around her, but she simply followed his path, still grinning.

Apparently she was as strange as her character.

“You are coming!” Jane insisted.

She held something up in her hand and pressed a button, and your world went black.

[killshotbabe]

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

//

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

//

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

//

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

//

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

[obsessedelusional]

Internets Favorite Fangirl

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ You are the internets most famous fangirl. You were a famous actor with no shame in thirsting over celebrities. So naturally you’re very public about your love with Pedro Pascal. Only to switch up when watching TLOU, fancying Bella. What happens when you show up to an award show they’re both attending? poorly proofread

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ hey sorry I’ve been mia I missed all y’all and want to start posting again anyways here’s a bellaxreader I wrote several months ago lmao im gonna post a few bella things I’ve been working on and even venture into tlou ((Abby Anderson is the love of my FUCKING LIFE)) ily bye

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

It had become a reoccurring theme in your press interviews to be asked who your recent celebrity crush was. It started when you landed your first big movie. Shortly after the release in a chance to find out more about you fans search the internet for any crumb they could find. Someone found an old Harry Styles fan page you had when you were a teen. You were absolutely mortified by the stuff they were finding. Deleting it wouldn’t undo it so you learned to embrace it. Quickly becoming the internets most famous fan girl.

Making TikTok’s and tweets thirsting after unattainable celebrities. The whole internet eating it up and thirsting along with you. Your most recent viral moment was a TikTok you made featuring the infamous dvcree Pedro Pascal edit. Your face green screened over the original with a caption talking about this singular edit has taken over your for you page and you were enjoying every second of it.

With the upcoming release of the anticipated second movie to your most popular role you were busy doing press work. Sometimes by yourself but mostly with the rest of the cast. Today you were invited to do an google auto complete video with you male costar, Johnathan, who plays your love interest.

The first board asking where your from, then your age, and other basic questions. The next board is handed to you all the google searches begin with ‘who’.

“Who is y/n?” You read aloud laughing as you read.

“I am. That’s me. I act sometimes but mostly embarrass myself on the internet.” You costar laughs agreeing with the last half of your statement.

“Who is y/n dating?”

“I wish I had some juicy gossip to share but I’m as single as it gets.”

“Who is y/n’s celebrity crush?” You sit there and think, your smile grows bigger when it comes to your mind.

“Oh this one’s easy. I know.” Jonathan says.

“Who?”

“Pedro Pascal.”

“Pssssh that was so last week.” Jonathan audibly gasps.

“Who then?”

“We’ll it’s actually his fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

“Pedro’s.”

“Please explain.” Jonathan says confused.

“Well I’m late on the train but I just binged watch The Last of Us. I was the last of us to watch it.” You laugh at your own joke, Jonathan doesn’t only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Anyways I started watching it for Pedro but stayed for Bella Ramsey.”

“Bella? The one who played Ellie?” Jonathan asks, his face telling you he doesn’t get it.

“Yeah them. You may not understand but the girls will get it.” You respond.

“Okay you heard it here first y/n is single and wants Bella Ramsey. My turn.” He says as he reaches for his board to read off the questions directed at him.

—

A few days pass before the video is released. Your publicist notify you it’s out and you don’t dare watch it, just pray that you didn’t do anything to embarrassing this time. It doesn’t take long before your notifications are flooded with people talking about the interview. You read a few before realizing a theme, Bella.

Everyone is tagging Bella in clips of you gushing over her. An edit of you saying the girls will get it followed by edited clips of Bella to the beat of a song. You may have watched it one too many times before favoriting it. Just as you about to close TikTok you get an Instagram notification from a verified account. It’s Bella following you, you click the notification not believing for a second it’s real.

But it is.

—

Two weeks ago Bella had made the first move by following you on Instagram. The internet went crazy when they realized quickly shipping the two of you. No one realizing that was the extent of your relationship, mutually following each other on instagram. It had crossed your mind at least a hundred times, you had drafted plenty first messages. Always deleting your words before you could muster up the courage to press send.

Tonight no different, you were in the process of preparing for a movie and tv awards show. In your dressing room being pampered by your glam squad. Clicking away at your phone looking for any sign that Bella was going to be here tonight. If they were you’d have no choice by to say hello. Cursing yourself because if only you had messaged Bella beforehand this would be less awkward.

A knock at your door steals your attention and your crew stops what there doing. The door opens revealing your manager, the biggest grin on her face. Something was up.

“We have a surprise for you.” She sings with a soft smile.

“So finish what your doing and meet us in room A3.” She says before shutting the door. You ask your team if they know what’s happening but they all answer with a shrug of the shoulders.

—

“Why are there cameras?” You ask as your guided to room A3. The door is shut, your mind races wondering what it could possibly be. Everyone around you is looking suspiciously excited for what’s about to happen. Your instructed to open the door so you do so, peaking your head in as it creeps open.

With nothing more than your head in the room, you peek around into the darkness. Blinded momentarily when the light turns on from inside. Blinking as an attempt to get your sight back your greeted by none other than Pedro Pascal.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You spit following with a squeal as you shut the door. Leaving Pedro alone in the room with whoever else in there. He erupts into laughter, a sound you had heard many times online.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” You turn around ready to run greeted by the camera shoved in your face. Realizing you have no choice in this matter. With a nervous breakdown around the corner you open the door. Peaking your head once again making eye contact with Pedro.

“I’m sorry.” You say too afraid to approach already had made a fool of yourself.

“Don’t be.” Pedro laughs, calming your nerves temporarily.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage to spit out.

“Hi honey,” he smiles and waves, making you melt. The two of your still stood a few feet apart. You’re looking him up and down and moving your gaze onto your manger who’s sat in the corner motioning you to get closer.

“You can come closer. I don’t bite.. I mean unless…” His voice trails off and turns into laughter. You laugh before closing the gap, hugging Pedro. After you pose next to Pedro as photos are taken. His arm rests on your shoulder. You look up at the man next to you he’s already looking down at you.

“I was so excited to meet you a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” You ask.

“A little over a month.” Your manager answers.

“Yeah then you had to go and switch up on me.” He sighs dramatically, letting his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did-“

“Don’t act so innocent Y/N. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your new found love for Bella.” Your eyes go wide realizing what he’s talking about.

“They better not pop up out of nowhere. I can’t handle two surprises today.”

“See exactly it’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.” Pedro whines face falling.

“You do matter but…” You start to go on about Bella but stop your self.

“But what?” Pedro must notice your the worry in your face because he takes it back.

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He teases.

—

“It really was nice meeting you.” You say your goodbyes but decide to follow it up with an apology for your actions when you were surprised. The cameras were gone now.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be worried. Bella’s not gonna be happy with me.” Your ears perk up at the mention of Bella not being happy.

“Why?”

“I’ve said to much.” He attempts to change the conversation.

“Wait you can’t just say that and pretend like you didn’t.” He let’s out a defeated sigh in response.

“Bella has not shut up about you in weeks. I tried to convince them to tag along but they refused. Which turned into a whole thing. Bella made me promise several times not to embarrass them.” Pedro rambles on before stopping face full of regret.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” You respond.

“Deal.”

Maybe you don’t plan on repeating the words that had come out of Pedro’s mouth but they surely lit the fire in your self to finally message Bella or maybe even say hello if you saw them tonight. Your rushed to finish getting ready before being instructed to walk the carpet. Taking pictures first and then stopping to do mini interviews.

Your in the middle of the red carpet where your stood answering questions for some publication. When you hear the crowd and paparazzi roar. Bella is stood next to Pedro, they’re holding hands. Pedro giving his full attention to the cameras while Bella is sneaking glances at you. In front of the camera still and the interviewer waiting for an answer you smile one last time, waving softly before going back to answering. Your whole demeanor changing from the subtle interaction with Bella, suddenly a little more smiley than before.

-

Eventually you’re seated at table, you say your hellos to the few people sitting with you. The seats next to you empty, so you take a peek at the name tags on table. Pedro is suppose to be sat right next to and Bella next to him. You don’t have time to process it because you hear the voice of the man who’s suppose to be sitting next to you. You turn around and he’s busy talking, no sign of Bella. You face forward in your seat, pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Told I’m sitting next to you but I don’t want to.” Pedro says from behind you. You smile politely kind of confused watching as he changes Bella’s name place with his. Sitting down where Bella was suppose to be. He sports the biggest grin as you realizing what he’s doing. He whispers you’re welcome before averting his attention else where.

Within seconds your planning your escape but it doesn’t matter because the familiar British accent fills your ears as they chat up some other people at a nearby table. If you left now it’d be too obvious, so you sit there painfully waiting for Bella to sit right next to you. A few long minutes pass before you fill the seat being pulled out and someone sitting down. You look over and smile, making eye contact with Bella who’s a few inches away.

“Hi.” Bella says with a shy smile.

“Hi.” You say back, barely a whisper.

“This is kinda crazy. I’ve never been to an event this big. Especially in America, this is on a whole other level.” Bella explains, staring a conversation.

“Oh yeah you’re probably far from home. Where do you live?” You ask, you already know the answer but Bella doesn’t need to know all that.

“The UK.” Bella responds.

“Oh damn. I’ve had to make that trip a few times. Absolute hell.” You say causing Bella to laugh lightly.

“Yeah kinda. Getting used to it after so many times. It’s usually worth it.”

“Well I hope this time is worth it.” You respond, you haven’t stopped smiling since Bella sat down.

“It already is.” Bella teases, their tone a bit flirty causing you to temporarily malfunction unable to come up with a response. Thank god some camera man comes by asking Pedro and Bella to take some pictures before the show starts.

As soon as Bella’s attention isn’t on you anymore your aggressively messaging your best friend, freaking the fuck out. As you’re typing some one grabs you hand, trying to get you to stand up. It’s Pedro and he’s begging for a photo with you. You happily oblige standing up but Pedro has a plan, posing you next to Bella. He takes a few photos with the two of you before stepping out of the way. Your unsure what to do but without notice Bella arm is around your waist. Pulling you a little closer, you smile for the picture and then look to Bella who’s already looking at you causing you to smile even bigger than before.

—

You two spend the beginning of the award show chatting in between breaks and sneaking glances at each other. Pedro constantly giving you looks, letting you know he’s happy with what’s happening. About half way though the show, a member of the shows staff comes to grab you and Pedro. Apparently the two of you presenting a reward.

You were not prepared for this in the slightest but it’s not the first time, you’ll be fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s your time to go out, Pedro follows closely behind. You smile as everyone starts to cheer, when your finally to the podium Pedro begins reading off the teleprompter. You can’t help but cringe as the words as they come out, praying that it’s not too obvious.

“Today we’re here to present the award for break out actress.” Pedro says.

“Yeah… it’s been so amazing watching these nominees make their dreams come true.” You say through gritted teeth.

“With enough hard work and dedication, your dreams are possible. Just like her dreams.” He laughs, pointing to you.

“What do you mean Pedro?” You read off, sounding entirely out of touch with the words coming out. Confused where this could possibly going.

“Your hard work at being a fangirl, has finally paid off. You got to meet me. The man of your dreams.” Pedro can barley finish, laughing harder than he should be. Stopping every other word to laugh or catch his breath from laughing so hard. You don’t have any words being prompted at you, so you laugh and agree. Being shut up by the sound of your own voice being blasted from behind you.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You hear and followed by the sound of a door being slammed. You turn around in horror seeing yourself, on the biggest screen freaking out about meeting Pedro.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” Plays on the screen, your curse words being bleeped. This is more embarrassing than anything you could’ve imagined that they had planned for this footage. You watch in full disgust too afraid to face the crowd of thousands. You hear them laughing at every stupid thing that leaves your mouth in the video, adding to your embarrassment.

When the video finally ends, Pedro gives you a hug. Saying something about how it’s okay in your ear but you’re far too gone from the moment to understand him. You turn to the face the crowd, the actor in your turning on.

“Well that was embarrassing.” You laugh.

“It’s okay, everyone loved it.” Pedro responds.

“Yeah everyone but me. Anyways, the nominees are…” You say as at attempt to make this end sooner. The nominees play in the background as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the crowd, just kinda looking off in the distance. Especially Bella because you two were hitting it off so we’ll and now the whole room, including Bella, just watched Pedro talk about your new found love for them.

Pedro starts ripping at an envelope letting you know it’s time to announce. The both of you read of the winner and start clapping. When the winner gets to the stage, you hug them before moving out of the way. Listening intently as they give their speech. It’s finally time to leave and you waste absolutely no time getting off that stage. Once backstage your overwhelmed by the sheer amount of good jobs and laughs at what just happened to you. Your manger tells you that was perfect.

“No more suprises please that was horrible.” You mutter, embarrassed and ready for the night to be over. Your manager apologizes. You make the walk back to the table, being stopped several times on the way. When you finally see your seat, Bella sees you. They flash a smile at you as you sit down. Pedro following close behind.

“That was something.” Bella says teasingly.

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You say not finding it funny.

“Why are you apologizing?” They ask, face full of concern.

“Because I opened my big mouth and dragged you into this.”

“I don’t mind. I actually kinda enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” You ask, your sour mood suddenly disappearing.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy one of the most beautiful and talented actors out there publicly simping for them?” Bella says, bringing your smile back.

“Beautiful?”

“Mhmm and talented.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking whenever you can. Pedro often inserting himself, neither of you minding. When it finally ends you can’t help but feel sad. Wishing the night could some how continue. You say your goodbyes, hugging Pedro. Then hugging Bella, a little longer than the hug with Pedro.

“It was nice meeting you.” You say as you pull away.

“You too.” Bella smiles as you walk away, your manager hounding you to get back to the dressing room so you can leave.

“How long are you in town?” You ask.

“I actually have to get on a plane back tomorrow afternoon.” Bella responds, sadness apparent in their voice.

“Oh well, shit that sucks.”

“What do you normally do after an award show?” Bella asks.

“Normally I get some terrible fast food and rot in bed until I fall asleep.” You respond honestly.

“I could go for some terrible fast food..” Bella says, with a hint of hope you’d understand what they were trying to say.

“I’d love it if you joined me.” You say, blush appearing. You make plans with Bella, letting them know you’d have to go to dressing room and unglam yourself. Bella understands following you to the dressing room, waiting for you outside of it. Eventually you come out in sweats, hair tied up and no more makeup.

“We’ll now I feel overdressed.” Bella teases, noticing your causal attire.

“You can borrow some clothes at mine.” You say, not realizing that you’re unofficially inviting Bella over to your home. Bella nods yes, biggest smile plastered on their face as they follow you out of the venue.

—

An hour later, Bella and you are laid up in bed. Tummy’s full watching some bad reality show. Doesn’t matter because you two can’t stop talking, not paying much attention to the tv. The conversation flows naturally, never missing a beat. Little did you know the internet was actively loosing their shit over all the content of the two of you tonight. Unaware of all of it, neither of you feeling any need to check your phones.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you tonight.” You say when the conversation starts to lull.

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to message you for weeks but I was absolutely terrified.” Bella admits.

“Me too. I was scared shitless when I realized you were sitting next to me. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.” You say, looking at Bella who suddenly seems way closer than before. Tension between the two of you is heavy.

“Not at all.” Bella reassures you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You sure? Because I still can’t believe-“ Your words are cut off by Bella kissing you softly, pulling away quickly.

“I like you. Okay? Please don’t fret over it.” Bella laughs, your laid there in shock. The biggest stupidest grin on your face.

“I like you too.” You whisper barley audible cause you’re quick with pressing your lips to Bella’s. This kid lasting a lot longer than the first.

—

The next morning, you two sleep in after staying up late. Only giving you two an hour before Bella has to get on the plane. You offer to drive Bella to their hotel, so they can pack and end up dropping them off at the airport too. Saying goodbye with a sweet kiss and plans to see each other in the near future.

You get into your car and pull out of the airport. A whole mix of emotions. Happy because of the prospects of a relationship with Bella but also sadness because Bella lives so far away. If the two of you do end up making it official, it’ll be long distance. The short drive home is spent in silence trying to figure out of the feelings your currently experiencing all at once. When you pull into your garage, your phone goes off its Bella.

Bella: thank you for last night, had so much fun and I can’t wait to see you again

You: is it stupid that I kinda miss you already?

Bella: I miss you too xxx

You catch yourself smiling so hard at your phone. Before you can respond Bella messages you again letting you know that their getting on the plane, they’ll message you as soon as they can. You shoot a short sweet message back and close the messages app.

You start opening your social media apps and your mentions are flooded with Bella and you at the award show. Hundred of photos from the event. People taking notice of the way you two were looking at each other. Then photos of you two leaving together. Most recently blurry photos of you off someones phone, outside of the airport saying goodbye to Bella.

“That was fast.” You groan aloud to yourself. Everyone is assuming the two of you are dating and you can’t blame them. You have a dozen unread messages from family, friends and people on your team.

A notification lets you know Pedro tagged you in a story. You click it and it’s the blurry photo of you kissing Bella outside the airport, with text that says ‘you’re welcome’. He tagged you and Bella in it. You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Praying that Bella has knowledge of all this and isn’t blindsided when they get off the plane.

[piratefalls]

i have no real opening remarks, so have some fic, mind the tags, and have a good day!

masterlist

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine

Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it. “No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.” Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

Only Fools by OrchidScript

Henry rolled his eyes. “No. You tell me — that sounds better — why I should bring my ex-hook up to my brother’s wedding?” Pez hummed and half-shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? He’s the perfect thing to light your gran’s helmet of hair on fire.” Pez set his cup down and leaned forward onto the table. “That’s what Pip encouraged you to do, didn’t he?” “Martha more than Pip, but yes. He did.” Henry sighed. “Then ask Alex.” -- With his brother's wedding a few weeks away, Henry Fox is determined to not show up alone. Not wanting to ask a stranger, he instead turns to Alex, hoping to manufacture something believable from something familiar. Try as he might to keep a level head, Henry can't help falling in love with the man. Will it come around to bite him or will it turn into something more than he had hoped?

kitchen confidential by stutteringpeach

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” ~ Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by affectionatelyrs

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” - Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

getting good now by Standinginmoonlight

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

A Sin Better Than Heaven by AnchoredArchangel

“Show me,” the king says, a demand. He sets the vial back down, careless to where it lands compared to where it originated. He leans back against the table, crosses his arms over his chest; chin raised, jaw set- a picture of regality. Henry’s heart is pounding in his chest, the unstable beat of too many horse hooves overlapping, like the canter through the woods that very afternoon before he was shoved from his saddle. For the first time, he considers the possibility that perhaps he had hit his head harder than he realized- against the ground or against the tree, because certainly his hope is misplaced; certainly he is not following this conversation as well as he presumed. “Show you what, Your Majesty?” The king only deigns to move a hand, untucking it from his elbow in order to wave it vaguely. “How your body responds to men.” Or: A criminally loose reimagining of the tent scene from Mary & George, only Alex is a sexually confused king, and Henry's the one who has been sent to seduce him.

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by anincompletelist

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

Silence & Sound by @nocoastposts

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

all so human with our guards down by maxbegone

“Constant fear is debilitating,” Alex tells him later on. The sun has risen, though it’s barely prominent through the dark clouds in the sky. “Even in the world we live in now, you need to find the things that make it feel…normal.” Of course, Alex isn’t even sure that makes much sense, and he thinks about doubling back on what he just said with something stupid and word-vomitty, whatever pops into his head first, but Henry beats him to it. Much more suitable, and it puts Alex’s mind at ease: “I’m starting to think you’re right.” The world ended three years ago. No more all-night study sessions, no more drag brunch and mimosas, no more societal expectations. But out of everything Alex was expecting from an apocalypse, Henry sure as hell wasn't it.

Dallas, Texas by annesbonny

i thought I knew hopelessness. i thought I'd learned its specific dread years ago There's an assassination attempt on Ellen, Henry is caught up in the damage. Alex is... coping about as well as you would expect.

Best Practice in Sexual Favours by everwitch

They meet at a bar. Alex is young; fresh out of law school, sharp and charismatic and oh-so attractive. The sex is absolutely incredible, and Henry has no regrets. At least not until the morning after when he finds himself opposite Alex in a meeting — equipped with the painful knowledge that Alex’s boss thinks Alex’s only function in said meeting is to sit there and look all pretty. Somebody ought to call HR right about now. Or: when sexual relationships mix with professional ones, Alex and Henry make the most of it.

this is the first time I've felt the need to confess by theprinceandagcd

Alex frantically unlocks his phone and stares at their text thread, at the heart reaction that Henry had left on his most recent message. His thumbs hover uselessly over his screen, trembling as moisture burns his vision. The entire room is thick with uneasiness, heavy enough that it’s hard to breathe, and Alex wants to tell Henry something, wants to reach out and find the solace that Henry so often offers him without even realizing it. But mostly, as his brain finally catches up to what’s actually happening, all Alex can think is that he doesn’t want to die. He tries to come up with a list of reasons why in his head, a comprehensive one that probably should include family and career goals and a million other things, but in the end, in the moment, all he can fucking think about is Henry.

out of the kitchen by rizcriz

Alex looks to his right where Henry’s standing at his own door. Any moment now, Gordon Ramsay is going to tell them to turn the handle and one of them is going to cascade into a new life. He doesn't care if his door doesn’t open; in fact, he’d rather it didn’t. He’s come all this way, he’s proven himself as a chef, but there’s no denying that the man beside him was made for this role. For the last five weeks, he’s watched as Henry’s given his all to every challenge and dinner service. -- or, the Hell's Kitchen au literally nobody asked for.

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by coffeecatsme

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Fragile Things by SatinBirds

Alex does not scare easily. But the moment he sees Henry fall, all breath leaves his body at once.

Trim my Christmas tree by clottedcreamfudge

Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway. Ho ho ho.

All Kinds of Wounds by allmylovesatonce

It throws Alex off when it takes longer for the door to close, when he hears Henry’s footsteps but doesn’t hear him approaching. As he listens closer, there are steps on the stairs and eventually the sound of feet on the second floor. Henry avoided him. Henry gets hurt at the shelter and tries to hide it from Alex.

blurred lines by seafloor

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

keep me up all night/ i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges. Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything. Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb. “Get on the couch.”

Voted most likely to run away with you by dreamsinthewitchouse

Alex drifts into consciousness in a bed full of tangled limbs and warm, sleep-rumpled skin. He’s lying half on his stomach and half on his side, the shoulder smushed against the bed protesting in a way that tells him he’s going to have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day. But fuck if he cares, with Henry stirring next to him, one of his long legs draped over the back of Alex’s thigh. Alex doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the room is hazy with filtered sunlight, spilling pale yellow through the carelessly drawn curtains.

everything just stops by HypnosTheory

Alex hums, pushing his nose into the side of Henry’s cock. “Let me give you your gift, Hen.” “You’ve already given me my gift,” Henry says, fingers tightening on the edge of the countertop. “Twice.” Alex laughs and takes Henry’s cock back into his mouth. Henry keens, knees shaking. He’s oversensitive already; Alex woke him up with a hand on his cock, and then in the shower surprised him with three fingers against his prostate. Each orgasm was greeted with a happy birthday, baby, which is a phrase that’s starting to have a Pavlovian response on Henry. --- Alex gives Henry all the birthday orgasms - Henry believes turnabout is fair play.

the wrong place by congee4lunch

“I don’t want you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Alexander,” Henry breathes out, his breath ghosting over Alex’s lips. “I just want to feel good.” “Perfect,” Alex grins. “I want the exact same thing, Fox.” henry and alex hate each other. when they're forced to share a hotel room and a bed for a night, they fuck about it.

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here. “And if you only hold me tight…” A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Late Bloomer by @sparklepocalypse

Alex Claremont-Diaz is sixteen years old, and he hasn’t presented. His dad seems to think it’s fine and offers Alex regular reassurance that his cousin Angel hadn’t presented until nearly 20. His mom, though, gets a little crease between her eyebrows whenever she thinks Alex isn’t looking. Presenting is a Big Deal in the Claremont family, and Alex just... hasn’t. So Alex is sixteen, and he’s… a boy. That’s it. Just a boy. Not a boy and an alpha like his friend Marco, or a boy and an omega like his friend Noah. Just a boy.

living in a new normal by @forever-fixating

Henry Fox could write an entire dissertation based on how much information his twin nieces Penelope and Grace have told him about their favorite band, Austin Heat. The girls peppered him with neverending facts since he surprised them with tickets and meet-and-greet passes to their concert at Madison Square Garden last Christmas. -- Henry Fox takes his nieces to a concert of their favorite band, Austin Heat. He gets a bit more than he bargained for when he meets singer and guitarist Alex Claremont-Diaz.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 5)

Josh/Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, slight angst, etc

Sleep doesn’t plan on dropping in to visit you tonight, that much is clear. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staring up at the ceiling, longing for it.

If you could just quiet the storm inside your head, if only for a moment or two, you might be able to drift away.

All hope is lost completely when your phone begins to vibrate on the night stand beside you. It crosses your mind to ignore it, but no one calls at this hour for no good reason.

With an exasperated sigh, you roll to your side and grab it up.

“Perfect.” You mutter upon seeing Jake’s name displayed on the screen. Yet another facet stepping up to complicate this shit show of a night even further.

“This better be good.” 3 am phone calls don’t lend themselves to a proper greeting in your book.

“Well, hello to you, too, pretty girl.” He laughs, clearly bright eyed and full of piss and vinegar.

“I’m sleeping, Jacob.” You huff, flopping onto your back once again.

He calls your bluff. Of course he does. “No you’re not. You sound wide awake, and I need someone to keep me company.”

“No pretty young thing to follow you home from your gig tonight?” You ask, though you certainly don’t actually want to know.

He makes a sound in the negative, and then adds, “But if I get really hard up, I can just pop my head out the door and flag down one of the hookers that are loitering around this shit hole of a motel.”

“That bad?”

“I’ll put it this way,” he breathes a wisp of a laugh, “If I were to look under the bed and find a dead body, I wouldn’t be shocked. Not even a little bit.”

“Yikes.” You genuinely feel for him. Hotels and their germs freak you out as it is, you can’t fathom being expected to sleep in an establishment as fine as the one he’s describing.

“Make sure you check for bed bugs before you go to sleep.” It breaks your heart to think of him slumbering fitfully while tiny monsters feast away.

“You think I’m going anywhere near that bed?” He sounds offended, but you know better. “I’m sleeping in the fucking bathtub. I wish you were here, though.”

“So, you’d have me suffer through a night in hotel hell just so you’d have someone to keep you company? Narcissist.”

That halting laugh of his, the one you’re completely smitten with, makes an appearance, but his reply comes gently. “No. There’s just something about the thought of seeing something so beautiful surrounded by all this ugliness…I don’t know.”

That, you hadn’t expected.

He glosses over his honesty and begins telling you about the bar he’s playing. About how it used to be a speakeasy. How there are still scattered bullet holes in the walls from a raid. Al Capone once visited, he tells you animatedly, and broke a bartender's nose for speaking without respect…

On and on he prattles, and you let him, paying close attention to his every word. This isn’t your first time being ‘Jaked’ in the middle of the night.

And if you’re being honest, maybe your attentiveness has more to do with the fact that you miss him already. It’s good to hear his voice, that calming, soft rasp. His idiosyncratic tendencies - ‘you know’ as a place filler as he gathers his thoughts, interesting, suppose, it’s all so jake, and it makes you feel safe in the strangest way.

You ask questions in all the right places, not enough to interrupt, but just enough to encourage the stream of thoughts he has decided to share with you.

That is, until he catches on. “Are we whispering because it’s late, or because you’re at my brother’s?”

You pluck at the blanket thrown over you, chagrined. A child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “He was out of sorts with you gone, so I stayed. You know how he gets.”

“I get that way, too.” He points out softly. “Who babies me?”

You shrug, though he can’t see you “A girl in every port?”

“Would you stop with that?” He suddenly sounds sad, and it’s so unlike him you’re shocked into momentary silence.

It stretches on for a while, with you now staring at the wall as the tree outside lends the shadows of its leaves to dance and flutter in the night. And Jake, cooped up in some depressing, filthy room god knows where, breathing in stagnant air and mold spores.

He slices through it first, “Hey, poppins?”

“Hmm?” How easily can make your heart ache and pound without effort. They both can.

“Do you miss me?”

The hopefulness in his query makes you smile. He sounds almost…vulnerable?

“I do, Jake. I always miss you when you go away.”

A discreet hum of satisfaction is his only reply before the quiet returns. Then…

“Why are you at my brother’s, babe? Is this a ‘when the cats away the mice will play’ situation?”

Why is he always so calm and collected? Tipping his hand just enough to stoke the flames of your curiosity. And why is it so sexy?

“Are you the cat?” You ask softly, avoiding his actual question.

He sees your bet and raises the stakes “Are you two the mice?”

Still unwilling to hand over your secrets, you ask a question of your own. “What is this? You both really do get off on the competition of it all, don’t you? Is there a scorecard hidden away somewhere? Because I —“

“Hey,” he soothes, voice comforting like a warm, much loved quilt. “There’s no scorecard. We actually have a scoreboard. It lights up and everything. Cost a shit load.”

He successfully tugs a giggle out of you, plucking the thorn out of your side effortlessly. Seconds later, however, you’re right back where you started.

“Why, then? Sometimes I feel like I’m caught in sibling rivalry crossfire. Like I’m constantly ducking and dodging Kiszka bullets.”

“No such thing.” He’s trying his best to lighten things up. “We Kiszkas are noble and peaceful people.”

He desperately would like to be let off the hook… instead, you keep him dangling on the line. “I’m serious.”

At last, he gives in. “Alright, alright. The thing is, you can’t really blame us. Sometimes it’s unavoidable and that’s just science.”

“Science.” You repeat, unimpressed.

“Yes. Science. Identical twins, such as myself and my lesser half, share nearly indistinguishable brain wave patterns, and —“

“Jesus, do you two carry around some big book of twin factoids everywhere you go?”

Brushing your flippancy aside without comment, he continues on. “So, shared brain waves and 99.9% identical DNA means we view the world around us in much the same way. That’s why you hear those crazy stories about separated twins finding each other later only to discover they’ve been living parallel lives. Essentially, we’re the same person.”

“Is this where I come in?” You ask, trying hard to conceal the fascination hiding behind your nonchalance.

“Possibly.” In your mind's eye, you picture his fingers running over his lips in a gentle pinching motion. An endearing habit of his when he’s feeling contemplative. “But, sometimes I think it has very little to do with all of that. Sometimes I think it’s just you.”

“Me?’

“You’re the lighthouse, poppins…” his voice is soft and thoughtful. “And he and I are the ships. Question is, who will run ashore first?”

“Something happened between Josh and I tonight.” You confess. “And I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you. I just felt like you should know.”

“Doesn’t that make you think?” He questions, backing you into an invisible corner.

“Doesn’t what make me think?”

“The fact that you felt the need to tell me. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you choose the easiest path and say nothing at all.

“Jealousy isn’t a character flaw I struggle with. Never has been.” You listen to the creaking groan of the likely cheap and worn chair he is repositioning himself in. “Territorial? I’ll own that, but almost never with Josh. So you have your fun, love. Get him out of your system. You and I both know which ship your light shines a little brighter for.”

He ends the call with little room for argument on your part. You consider calling him back to tell him he’s wrong (is he wrong?). Instead, you slip out of bed and pad down the hall towards Josh’s room, light and hushed on your feet.

~

Josh is dreaming of you. Lost in turquoise waters that lull him deeper and deeper, down down down. You’re everywhere. Your voice, echoing and purring with the delicate current. He is tangled in your silken hair. It glows in otherworldly shades of bioluminescent purple and he longs to touch it, but each lock dissolves into blinding glitter the moment he reaches for it. Closer to the floor of your sea he drifts, as your soft moans grow louder, accompanied by the alien mournful song of whales calling to one another, his unconscious world shifts…

Now you lie beneath him, twisted in wrinkled sheets, clinging to him as he rocks into you deeply. Your nails sting as they bite into and drag across his back and he hopes it burns forever. He likes it better here. Bathing in your ocean was bliss, but here he can touch your face. Here he can search your eyes for their secrets and taste your skin. He can hear the desire thrumming in your hummingbird heart. Here you are his.

He always thinks you’re beautiful, but like this, you are celestial. A supernova captured in his arms.

You call his name, but your eyes are cast over his shoulder. He knows without question who has come to dismantle his perfect world.

“Tell him to go.”

You shake your head languidly with a Mona Lisa smile, “I’d like him to stay.”

Squeezing around him just right, you run your fingertip down the bridge of his nose…

…and he startles awake with a curse.

~

His door isn’t closed, but merely pushed to…still, you lift a loose fist to knock lightly. A faint moan in the dark stops you.

It’s a tranquil sound, one you might expect to enjoy while caught up in slow and easy early morning sex. And while it isn’t overtly obscene, it steals the air from your lungs all the same.

He’s sleeping, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to know that, but he breathes another sigh into the air, and then…your name.

Can a sound be poetic? Can inflection be art? Because that is the only way to describe the way your name sounds on his tongue.

He’s dreaming…and whatever world he has faded into holds some version of you inside of it as well. What is going on inside that brilliant, beautiful mind of yours, Joshua?

This is wrong. You should go back to bed and pretend this never happened…but the angel on your shoulder has taken the night off, leaving the shameless devil in charge, plotting nefariously.

A harsh hiss of “Fuck!” bites out of him, startling you. He sounds frustrated and furious. He is awake, and very unhappy about it.

Standing still as a statue, you wonder ridiculously if he can hear the wild beat of your heart.

Knock now, you think. Pretend you’ve just arrived at his door. For the second time, you raise your hand to knock, and for the second time, you stop in your tracks when you see it.

His hand slips beneath the sheets as a shutter of pleasure ripples out of his chest. It’s no more than a strangled gasp, but your body explodes into heated pins and needles.

The drag of his fist against the linens keeps time with the airy moans he is panting into the night. It’s fucking intoxicating and you so badly want to go to him.

Instead, you back slowly away from the crack into the door, retreating further back in the hall. You’ll slink back to bed and it’ll be like this never even happened —

A floorboard creaks. An inanimate object groaning to tattle tale and shine a spotlight on your presence.

He stops instantly as you clamp your eyes shut tightly for a split second…if I can’t see you, you can’t see me mentality.

And while you pray with your whole soul to disappear like smoke in the air, he rises, tucks himself back into his sweats, and confidently closes the space between the two of you.

Before you can process, his fingers lace around your wrist and pull you into the room. Your body is pressed against the door, his breath warm on your neck as he reaches behind you to twist the lock.

A single finger traces along your cheek before tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Were you watching me?”

“I…” You stammer, guilty as sin. “I was just getting ready to knock and…”

His hand slides between your legs to tease his fingers over soaked cotton. “Oh,” he tilts his head, smug and pleased with his discovery. “Someone was enjoying the show. My sweet little thing has ruined her pretty panties.”

He finds your clit and presses against it, remaining still, taunting you with the delicious pressure of his touch. “Do you like to watch?”

You nod, the shame of being caught slowly seeping from your veins.

“Yeah?” He slips into your panties from the side and teases two fingers inside you, curling upward until your thighs are shaking. “You wanna watch me cum?”

A whine of desire trembles out of you, telling him all he needs to know.

His fucks his fingers into you just a hint faster. Building you up nice and easy, creating a heavenly push and pull that you never want to end. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’m far too in love with this soft little cunt of yours right now. Pink as cotton candy and just as sweet.”

Your hands are fisted into the shoulders of his worn out t shirt, steadying yourself as your hips rock to meet him.

“Jake called.” The words leave you as barely a whisper.

“Did he?” There is a conversational edge to his cadence. As though you might be discussing the weather while you clench and drip into the palm of his hand. “Missing you already?”

“I don’t know, he— oh, fuck…right there.”

“Right there?” You catch a glimpse of the cocky smirk playing over his lips in the dark. “I'll touch you right there, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me.”

Your back arches away from the door to bring your body nearer to his. You want him pressed against you, skin to skin. You want to melt into him and live there forever, surrounded by his warm light.

“You look so fucking pretty in this light.” The moon is filtering in through the window, cool and blue. You think of winter, and he mirrors your thoughts. “Like a snow angel.”

Your hand delves beneath his waistband of his tattered sweats. A chill races up his spine when you wrap your soft hand around him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you want…good girl.”

You coil and quiver around his fingers, giving yourself away.

“You like that?” He nips his perfect teeth into your bottom lip. “You want to be my good girl? A perfect princess to make my cock hard and my heart ache?’

Tightening your grip, you stroke him faster, earning a groan, long and low, deep within his chest as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge with just his hand.

“Josh, please,” the air feels charged, the way it does just before a vicious summer storm unleashes. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he rocks into your hand a little faster to catch up with you. ‘Not until I have what’s mine. Let go for me. Show me how beautiful you look when you cum.”

With another practiced twist of his hand, he drags you under, free hand covering your mouth to quiet your cries, though he wishes he could let you scream until you were hoarse and spent.

He chases after you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as he spills over your hand, tiny rivers of warmth that tickle your skin until your eyes flutter closed to savor the feeling.

It’s peaceful for a stretch, but when the words come, you don’t swallow them down like maybe you should. You speak them into existence like maybe you shouldn’t.

“He says you’re in love with me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek, light as the softest feather. “I am.”

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