#like they really did that to me in like a few days

[orangeblossomsintheair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS (3/3) | CS55

summary : You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. “He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

wc : 14k

an : This might be the end of the Illicit Affairs series! Honestly I might write another part (as I intended) but I realized it could also end here. I might work it alongside a few other fics on the back burner.

The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t tiptoe. He doesn’t hesitate.

He’s the kind of guy who walks into your life, plops down, and acts like he’s always been there.

At first, you think he’s just passing through, like one of those tumbleweeds in old Westerns. Here for a moment, gone in another, leaving only a faint memory and maybe a little dust.

But Carlos is no tumbleweed.

He’s ivy. Creeping into the corners of your life, attaching himself with relentless charm and absolutely zero warning.

At first, it had just been sex.

Carlos calls, you pick up, and the two of you dive headfirst into whatever filthy scenario he’s cooked up for the evening.

It’s hot, it’s fun, and afterwards, you both lie there catching your breath while exchanging a few words like some half-hearted attempt at aftercare.

“Good for you?” he’ll ask, panting, his voice somehow managing to sound both teasing and sincere.

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes at the ceiling. “Top ten, at least.”

He laughs. Deep, warm, addictive. “I’ll aim for top five next time.”

It’s simple. Casual. Exactly what you signed up for.

Until it’s not.

Until the minutes start to stretch.

At first, it’s just an extra five. Then ten. Then before you know it, the two of you are sitting there, chatting about absolutely nothing long after the heat of the moment has faded.

Next thing you know Carlos is reaching out for the sake of company.

It’s easy to brush it off at first.

To pretend it’s harmless.

Carlos is just a guy who’s annoyingly good at making you laugh and has a voice so smooth it could probably negotiate world peace or at least a really good discount at a used car dealership.

But then, one afternoon, as you’re scrolling through your texts, you realize something horrifying:

You talk to Carlos more than you talk to your friends.

No, scratch that. You talk to Carlos more than you talk to anyone.

And it’s not just the sheer volume. It’s the content.

It’s the way his words sneak into your day, set up camp, and throw a block party. He texts you good morning before you’ve even had coffee, which is frankly criminal.

Carlos Rise and shine, baby. Did you dream about me again?

You I dreamed I hit you with my car

Carlos Hot. Was I shirtless?

You No, but you were crying. Freaked me out

Carlos Probably because I looked so good

You should block him.

You should delete his number.

You do neither, because somewhere deep down, you’re a masochist.

He doesn’t stop at morning texts either.

He sends unsolicited opinions all day, every day.

Carlos Do you think cows ever get tired of standing?

You They sit, Carlos. They sit all the time.

Carlos Yeah, but like, emotionally? What if they’re just pretending to like grass because they’re scared of change

You What would they change to, exactly? Chicken nuggets?

Carlos Maybe. Cows could be wild carnivores waiting for their moment. We don’t know what they’re capable of.

One day, while you're halfway through a bag of chips, your phone buzzes again.

Carlos Do you think birds ever judge us for not flying?

You You need therapy

Carlos So do you, but I don’t judge

You You judge me constantly 🤨

The banter becomes relentless.

Carlos If you had to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?

You Pasta

Carlos Predictable. You’re so basic it physically hurts

You Pretentious words from a man whose favorite snack is probably caviar

Carlos First of all, how dare you

You You’re trash

Carlos Trash that you text back btw

Then comes the random photos.

He sends you a blurry picture of his sneakers one afternoon.

Carlos Do these make me look fast? Be honest, but also lie

You Fast to embarrass yourself

Carlos Wow. Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon

Carlos Does it change anything if I say they’re limited edition

You Limited edition ugly

He sends you a picture of his dog another day, sprawled on the couch like he pays rent.

Carlos We’ve decided to boycott walkies today.

Solidarity with my guy.

You Tell him he’s lazy

Carlos He says those are bold words from someone who hasn’t hit the gym this week

You glare at the screen. It’s 7 a.m. How does he even know that?

You Your dog is illiterate. Don’t drag him into this

Carlos Rude. He’s very smart

You He licks his own butt

He becomes a fixture in your life without you even noticing.

Carlos Did you miss me while I was asleep?

One morning, you’re sipping your coffee when your phone buzzes.

You I slept better knowing you weren’t conscious

Carlos So, you’re saying you dreamt about me

You I dreamt I moved to a remote island where Wi-Fi doesn’t exist

Carlos Romantic getaway for two. Love that for us

You groan, but your fingers are already typing a response.

And somehow, without you realizing it, Carlos isn’t just a voice on the phone or a name on your screen.

He’s everywhere, weaving himself into your days with his relentless humor and absolute refusal to leave you alone.

That’s why when a day passes by without any contact, you’re tilted off balance.

The silence is unnerving.

You tell yourself it’s just one night.

One single night where Carlos doesn’t text or call, and you should be relieved.

Grateful, even, for the reprieve from his relentless antics.

But you’re not.

You spend the evening trying not to think about it.

You scroll through Instagram, open a book, binge half a season of some random series. But every few minutes, you find yourself glancing at your phone, waiting for it to light up.

It doesn’t.

The hours crawl by, and by the time you’re lying in bed, glaring at the ceiling, you’re starting to feel… itchy. Annoyed. Frustrated. And maybe just a little bit unreasonably hurt.

Then, finally, your phone buzzes.

You grab it so fast you nearly knock it off the nightstand.

Carlos Miss me?

Your stomach does a ridiculous little flip, but you type back quickly.

You Not even a little

Carlos Liar

Another message follows: a selfie of him holding the meerkat plushie you’d sent him as a joke a week ago.

Carlos He misses you too

You groan, but your cheeks ache from smiling.

Carlos By the way

Carlos I sent you a gift

You I didn’t get a package?

Carlos Wait

Carlos Call me when you get it

You shake your head, setting your phone down.

It’s probably something stupid. Knowing Carlos, it could be anything from a ridiculous gag gift to an actual penguin.

Two days later, a package arrives.

It’s sitting on your kitchen counter, deceptively normal-looking for something that Carlos sent.

You eye it warily, debating whether you should even bother opening it.

You stare at it for a good ten minutes, arms crossed, trying to decide whether you should call him first or just dump it straight into the trash.

Eventually, curiosity (and mild fear) wins out. You grab your phone and click the topmost contact.

It rings once before he picks up.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Carlos says, his voice smooth and entirely too smug.

“What the hell did you send me?” you demand without preamble.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Carlos.”

“Yes?”

You groan, already regretting this decision. “I swear to God, if it’s alive-”

“It’s not alive,” he interrupts.

“Then what is it?”

“Open it.”

“No,” you snap. “Because if it’s something awful, I can’t unsee it. I’m preemptively traumatized. Just tell me what it is so I can mentally prepare.”

“That’s not how surprises work,” he replies, completely unbothered.

“It’s not a surprise if I hate it,” you point out.

“You won’t hate it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You might be pleasantly surprised,” he insists, and there’s a tone in his voice, something too smug, too amused, that makes your stomach churn with suspicion.

“Carlos,” you warn.

“Yes?”

“If this is some kind of prank-”

“It’s not a prank,” he says, cutting you off again. “It’s a gift. A thoughtful, meaningful, deeply personal gift.”

“Deeply personal?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at the box like it’s about to explode. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s just a little something to remind you of me,” he adds, which is possibly the least reassuring thing he could have said.

You exhale sharply through your nose, setting your phone down on the counter so he can see.

His face lights up on the screen, all lazy smirks and overconfidence, and you hate the way your stomach flips at the sight of him.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you slice through the tape with the caution of someone defusing a bomb.

Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his chin resting on his hand. “Excited?”

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, peeling back the flaps of the box.

For a moment, you just stare.

Then, you shriek. Loudly.

“Carlos, what the fuck?!”

He leans closer to the camera, his grin widening. “You like it?”

“You sent me a dildo?!” you yell, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not just any dildo,” he says smugly, sitting back like he’s the king of the universe.

You stare at him, then at the object in the box, and back at him again.

It looks… normal, at first glance.

But then you notice the size. The veins. The shade.

The very specific details.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, horror dawning. “It’s your… your…”

“My cock,” he supplies helpfully. “Yep.”

“Carlos!” you screech, clutching the box like it’s cursed. “You’re a lunatic!”

“True,” he says, completely unfazed. “But admit it- you’re impressed.”

“Impressed?!” you repeat, your voice pitching even higher. “What is WRONG with you?!”

“A lot,” he admits, far too cheerfully. “But you already knew that.”

“How did you even- who does this?!”

“Visionaries,” he says smoothly. “Trendsetters. People who care deeply about customer satisfaction.”

“Customer?!”

“Well, you.”

“I am not your customer!” you yell, holding the replica aloft like it’s a cursed artifact.

Carlos is unbothered. “Technically, you are. You’ve been enjoying the original product for a while now. Or, well, the sight of it.”

You choke on air. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely thoughtful,” he corrects.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flustered. It's very cute.”

Your jaw drops. “I am not-”

He cuts you off, grinning wider. “So, when’s the test drive?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, setting the… thing down and burying your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Take your time,” he says, magnanimous. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, like this is a completely normal conversation.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a great surprise,” he says, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Surprise?!” you echo. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“You’ll appreciate it later,” he says confidently.

“I will not!”

“Bet you will.”

“You need therapy,” you hiss, shoving the box away like it might explode.

“And you need lube,” he counters smoothly.

“You’re deranged!”

“Efficient,” he corrects, smirking. “In case you miss me.”

“I don’t!” you lie, your face burning.

Carlos watches you, entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re keeping it, though.”

“I am absolutely not-”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupts, his tone maddeningly smug.

“I am throwing it in the trash right now!” you declare, grabbing the box and stomping toward the trash can.

He leans closer to the camera, completely unbothered. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

You freeze, hand hovering over the trash.

“There it is,” he says smugly. “Knew you wouldn’t.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, stomping back to the counter and slamming the box down.

“And yet, here you are, calling me,” he points out.

“Because I needed to yell at you!”

“And now you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!” you yell, even as you turn away from the camera to hide the traitorous curl of your lips.

Carlos laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Admit it- you think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s horrifying!”

“You’re laughing on the inside.”

“I’m plotting your murder on the inside,” you snap.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “So. Again. When are you trying it out?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Liar,” he says again, his grin positively devilish.

Before you can come up with a response, he adds, “Just make sure to let me know how it compares to the real thing. For science.”

“You’re insane,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and ending the call with a vicious jab.

Seconds later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Carlos Don’t forget lube, babe. You’re gonna need it. ;)

You stare at the screen, your cheeks burning.

Carlos And batteries. Unless you want to do it the old-fashioned way. Your call.

You want to throw the phone, the box, and maybe yourself out the nearest window.

You Blocked

Carlos Bad girl.

—

Carlos has this way of getting under your skin. Not in an infuriating, "I can’t believe I’m dealing with this" kind of way, but more in the likes of "Why do I secretly enjoy this ridiculousness?"

It starts with a string of increasingly pathetic messages.

Carlos Please?

Carlos Just once?

Carlos I take that back.

Carlos Twice? Maybe even thrice

Carlos C’mon, I’ll be good

Carlos I’m literally begging here

Carlos On my knees

Carlos Pathetically btw

Carlos Do you need a photo for proof?

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your head.

You Carlos, we are not doing this again

Carlos You say that

Carlos But I feel like deep down you want to. You’re just being stubborn

He replies instantly, because of course he’s sitting there, waiting for your response like his life depends on it.

“Stubborn,” you deadpan, fingers hovering over your phone. “Sure. That’s definitely it.”

And then he hits you with a voice note, because apparently texts alone can’t convey his desperation.

You don’t even mean to open it, but your thumb slips, and suddenly there he is, using that tone that he knows gets to you.

"Just once," he begs, words spilling out of your speakers like some lovesick fool. "I swear I’ll make it worth your time. Please. I just wanna watch you take me again."

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s ridiculous, bordering on embarrassing.

But then you picture his face, probably flushed, probably biting his lip in that way that always gets to you, and against your better judgment, you cave.

You Fine. But just this once

Carlos I love you

Carlos You’re the best

Carlos I’m naming my firstborn after you

You Just call me

Carlos Yes ma'am 🥰

When the call connects, you're met with the sight of Carlos lounging on his couch looking very much the part of a man who's won an impossible bet.

One arm is draped lazily over the backrest, laptop balanced on his thighs.

The soft glow from the screen highlights the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that you know feels just as delicious as it looks.

The smirk that he wears is devastating. An expression of smug satisfaction that makes your pulse race even as you curse him for it.

His shirt clings to his broad chest, the undone buttons teasing you with a glimpse of hard lines across tanned skin.

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s heat in them, hunger.

He’s relaxed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, the way he’s barely holding himself back.

And you?

You’re perched on your bed, knees tucked beneath you, completely bare.

The dildo lies heavy in your hand, the silicone cool against your flushed skin.

The sheer indecency of it sends a rush of heat through you, making your thighs clench.

Carlos smirks, his hand disappearing offscreen for a moment, only to return with a slow stroke along his already hard cock.

He leans forward slightly, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his length twitches in his hand.

For someone who was shamelessly begging just minutes ago, Carlos is playing it way too cool now.

“Naked on your bed, holding a mold of my dick,” he says, his voice smooth like it’s a damn sales pitch. “I mean, come on. That’s the kind of devotion poets write sonnets about.”

You snort, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “Oh, yeah. Shakespeare totally had this in mind when he wrote, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.’”

“Exactly. I’m a classic, baby. Timeless.”

“Delusional,” you counter, grabbing the bottle of lube with way more force than necessary.

His laugh is low and warm, the kind that annoyingly makes your stomach flip. “Call it what you want, but you didn’t say no to my ‘gift.’”

Your glare falters, just for a second, and he catches it immediately. Carlos thrives on cracks in your armor, and his smirk sharpens like a predator who just spotted its prey.

You glare at the bottle in your hand like it personally wronged you. "I hate you," you mutter, squeezing out a glob of lube.

Carlos's face lights up on the screen, all smug satisfaction and unearned charm. "Funny, because you're doing exactly what I asked. Almost like you want to."

"Don’t push your luck,”

He leans closer to his camera, his grin widening. "Oh, pushing my luck is my favorite hobby. You know this."

You level him with a deadpan stare. "And yet, here you are. Still single."

"Wow. Low blow. But fine, I'll allow it, because you're about to make my night."

"Make your night?" You scoff, dragging this out purely to annoy him. "I’m just trying to remember what this was called. A gag gift, right? Or was it just a waste of money?"

His jaw drops. "A gag gift? I can’t believe you’d say that. This is art."

"This is silicone," you reply flatly, holding up the toy with a disapproving shake of your head.

"Silicone art," he corrects, pointing at the screen like that changes anything. His grin sharpens. "And don’t pretend you weren’t curious the moment I sent it to you."

"You sent this to annoy me," you retort, spreading the lube over your fingers with dramatic flair. "And congratulations, it worked."

Carlos leans forward, his chin propped on his hand as he watches you, his dark eyes glittering with mischief.

"Oh, but look at you now. All lubed up and ready to go. Who's the real winner here, hmm?"

"Still me," you shoot back, though your fingers falter as you glance down at the toy.

Your grip tightens as if it’s a stress ball, and the obscene squelch it makes has you biting back a groan.

Carlos’s smirk grows. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep squeezing it like that, and I’ll think you’re practicing for something."

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, refusing to look at him. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

He leans in even closer. "And you’re still here. Lube in hand. Ready to-"

"Don’t finish that sentence," you interrupt, finally looking up to glare at him. "I’ll block you."

Carlos snickers, leaning back like he’s won. "You’d never block me. I’m your favorite pain in the ass."

"No," you say, grabbing the toy with more force than necessary. "You're just a pain in the ass in general. Huge difference."

His brow arches as he watches you spread the lube along the length of the toy, the slick sound louder than your ego can handle. You freeze mid-motion, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking every movement.

Carlos’s grin falters for a moment, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His voice drops an octave. "Good girl."

The unexpected praise punches the air out of your lungs, and your hands falter, nearly dropping the toy.

"Keep going," he murmurs, his tone rich with satisfaction. His eyes don’t leave yours, the heat in them curling low in your stomach. "Let me see you do it."

Your pride flares, and you straighten your spine, lifting your chin as you resume your movements with exaggerated precision.

"You’re lucky I don’t throw this thing across the room," you grumble.

Carlos hums, his gaze shamelessly lingering. "You wouldn’t dare. That thing cost more than your dignity."

"Bold words for someone whose dignity died in 2016," you snap, but the banter feels more like a lifeline now, a way to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifts, cocky and infuriating. "Touché."

You inhale sharply, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the toy.

You hate how your body reacts to him, how his voice, his laugh, his everything gets under your skin like this.

Carlos leans forward again, his smirk all-knowing. "Having fun yet?"

Your pride makes you glare at him. “Fuck you.”

His laugh is low, indulgent, the sound curling around you like smoke. "Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he fires back smoothly, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

His voice drops to a growl. "But you won’t, will you? You’ll do exactly what I say because you love being told what to do. Makes you wet just thinking about it, doesn’t it?"

Your lips part, but the sharp retort you’re trying to form dies as his gaze drops to your hands.

His smirk fades, replaced by a hunger so fierce it leaves you breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction.

The unexpected praise sends a rush of heat straight to your core. "Keep going. Let me see you do it."

Your fingers tremble as you continue spreading lube on the length of the toy, the silicone cool against your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlos breathes, his hand tightening around his cock. “Look at you, already so obedient. Knew you’d listen.”

He shifts slightly, his voice softening. “Now, spread those legs for me. Show me how wet you are. I want to see that pretty pussy you’ve been thinking about me filling.”

Your thighs part, the cool air brushing against your slick heat as you settle back against the pillows.

His sharp inhale through the speakers sends a jolt straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained.

His hand pauses on his cock as he drinks in the sight of you, dark eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin. "You’re so fucking perfect. Do you even realize how bad I want to bury myself in you right now?"

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat spreading from your cheeks to your chest as the ache between your thighs sharpens with every passing second of his unrelenting stare.

Slowly, you drag the toy through your folds, the soft, slick sound of your arousal breaking the tense silence.

It’s obscene, the way the wetness clings, glistening on the head of the silicone.

Your arousal drips along your thighs, the skin glistening under the low light and you can feel how messy you’ve become, how utterly soaked you are.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasps, his eyes fixed on the toy and the way it slides against your swollen folds. "That's it. Get it nice and wet for me. I want to see just how desperate you are to take it."

Your fingers tremble as you position the toy at your entrance, the blunt tip pressing against your slick heat. You hesitate, glancing up at him through the screen.

“Carlos…”

“Go on, baby,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. “Don’t make me wait. I want to see you take it.”

You bite your lip, a soft whine escaping as you slide the tip between your folds again. His gaze darkens, his strokes faltering as he watches you hover above it.

The moment the dildo breaches the first ring of muscles, your head falls back with a moan that’s nothing short of sinful.

Carlos’s eyes burn through the screen, dark and wild, his fist sliding steadily up and down his cock as he watches you begin to move.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough and needy. “You’re so fucking tight. That little pussy is made for me, isn’t it?”

You whimper, your hips starting to bounce, your slick heat making it easier to slide up and down. The toy stretches you so perfectly, but it’s his words that send fire shooting through your veins.

“Yes,” you gasp, gripping the bed to keep your balance. “It’s yours, Carlos. Always yours.”

“Damn right it is,” he growls, stroking himself faster. “You'd rather have me inside you, stretching you out, making you scream my name, hm? Doesn't matter if it's a mold from my cock. Still can't compare, yeah?”

Your hips jerk at his filthy words, and you pick up the pace, grinding down harder until the toy presses right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dripping with dominance. “Say how much you want my cock, baby. Tell me what you miss.”

“I miss you,” you cry out, each bounce making your voice tremble. “Miss the way you fill me up, how fucking deep you get- oh god, Carlos-”

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body moves, the slick sounds of the dildo sliding in and out of you driving him insane.

“You’d take me so good, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you until you can’t even think, until you’re dripping all over my cock.”

“Please,” you whine, your fingers digging into the sheets as the pleasure builds, your body tightening around the toy with every bounce. “I need it. Need you to fuck me, Carlos. Need to feel you come inside me-”

“Shit,” he growls, his hips jerking up into his hand. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Feeling me stretch you open, filling you so full you’d still be dripping with me the next day.”

Your head is spinning, the combination of his words and the relentless drag of the dildo inside you sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“You’d let me do whatever I want, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low, dirty rasp now, his strokes frantic as he chases his release. “You’d let me bend you over, fuck you on every surface in the house, make you come over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You nod desperately.

“Go faster, baby” Carlos murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You whimper, obeying.

Each downward motion stretches you all over again, and the fullness makes your eyes flutter shut as a moan spills from your lips.

Carlos’s growl cuts through the speakers, low and rough. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on it like that.”

You lift yourself just enough for the toy to drag along your walls, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through you.

When you sink back down, the stretch feels even deeper. Your thighs tremble, your pace picking up as the need builds inside you.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans. “Your tits are bouncing so perfectly. Keep going, baby, let me see them move while you ride it.”

Your breasts sway with each bounce, the motion only adding to the heat pooling low in your belly.

The way his eyes lock onto you, dark, hungry, devouring, makes your nipples pebble, the cool air only amplifying the sensation.

“You look so fucking good,” Carlos murmurs, half mindless, his strokes on his cock quickening as he watches you. “Look at how deep it’s stretching you. Look at the way your tits bounce every time you take it. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You can’t stop now, the pleasure too much to ignore.

Your hips grind down harder, rolling in small circles as you press yourself against the base of the toy.

Each motion sends shocks of ecstasy through you, your slick heat gripping the silicone like you never want it to leave.

“Bounce on it harder,” he says.

Your hands grip the sheets tightly as you obey, your hips lifting and dropping with more urgency.

The wet, obscene sound of the toy sliding in and out of you fills the room, mixing with your soft gasps and moans. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“Baby,” Carlos groans, his fist tightening around his cock as he watches you ride the toy. “You’re so fucking perfect. You’d ride me just like that, wouldn’t you? Taking every inch, letting me stretch you open until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath catches, your body arching as you grind down harder, the toy hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “It feels so good- so fucking full-”

“That’s it,” he growls, his strokes turning frantic as he watches you lose yourself. “Take it all, baby. Keep bouncing. I want to see you come while you’re stretched out like that.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling as you grind harder, your cries turning into broken moans. “Carlos, I’m- fuck, I’m gonna come-”

“Do it,” he growls, his eyes locked on you, his voice pure command. “Come for me, baby. I want to see it. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your body shatters at his words, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around the toy, your cries spilling out uncontrollably as pleasure courses through you.

“Fucking hell,” Carlos groans, his own release hitting him hard as he watches you fall apart. His hand jerks wildly as he spills over himself, his groans mixing with your whimpers through the screen.

As you both come down, the air is thick and charged, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. Carlos grins at you, looking like the devil himself, his chest still heaving.

“Pretty girl.”

—-

Carlos’s phone is propped up against his water bottle, the screen showing you on the other end of the line as the two of you talk over lunch.

He’s at a small café near the gym, picking at a plate of grilled chicken and rice while you sit on the terrace of a restaurant somewhere near the Monaco Marina.

He can’t tell which restaurant exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too focused on the way the sunlight catches in your hair, how you’re picking at a croissant with absentminded precision.

“So, wait,” you say, mid-bite. “You’re telling me you thought you could just wing the French?”

Carlos grins, popping a spoonful into his mouth. “I did wing it. The waiter understood me perfectly.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “Because pointing at the menu is such a skill.”

He chuckles, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Why complicate things? A man’s gotta eat.”

You shake your head, your exasperation half-hearted at best. “You’re hopeless.”

“Worked, didn't it?” he counters smoothly, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, which feels like a victory.

For a moment, the conversation drifts to lighter topics.

Where you’d want to travel next, the chaos of his morning workout, and whether or not croissants count as dessert.

It’s easy, effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that feels like second nature.

But then you glance down, suddenly fidgeting with your sleeve, and Carlos picks up on the shift immediately.

“What’s that face?” he asks, leaning forward, curiosity laced in his tone.

You pause, debating, then sigh. “Can I tell my friends about this?”

Carlos blinks. “This?”

“Us,” you say, casually, but the word lands heavier than you probably realize.

He freezes for a split second, his mind stalling like a rookie stalling a car on the grid.

Us.

You don't mean it in the way that’s currently making his chest feel too tight, but it doesn’t stop the word from echoing in his head.

You take another bite of your croissant like you haven’t just derailed his entire thought process.

“Legally? No.” he says, recovering with a smirk. “You’re under NDA. You can’t even mention I exist.”

Your eyes narrow. “Carlos, no one cares that much about you.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

You shake your head, your expression flat. “Be serious. Is it okay or not?”

He leans back, draping an arm over his chair and studying you with an unreadable expression.

The truth is, he should say no. He should remind you how much he values his privacy, how careful he has to be.

But the thought of you talking about him, to your friends, no less, makes him feel... proud. Like he’s somehow made it onto a list of people who matter to you.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice casual. “Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

You narrow your eyes, clearly suspicious. “You’re not going to show up at my door with legal threats if I say something stupid?”

“Not unless it’s really stupid,” he teases.

Your unimpressed stare makes him grin wider. “You’re annoying,” you mutter, but your tone lacks any real bite.

“You love me though,” he counters easily.

He watches as your face softens, just for a moment, and something about it makes his heart stutter in a way he’d never admit.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And you like it,” he fires back, his voice light, though there’s a trace of sincerity underneath it.

The conversation shifts again, and by the time you glance at your watch, he’s already dreading the inevitable.

“I should go,” you say, reaching for your coffee cup.

“Busy?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you’re already sitting straighter, ready to leave.

Carlos hesitates, leaning forward slightly. “Hey.”

You pause, looking up at him expectantly.

“Call me again tomorrow,” he says, softer this time.

Your brow lifts, a flicker of curiosity crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugs, fighting the grin threatening to take over. “I like hearing your voice.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, you’re about to call him out on it.

But then you roll your eyes, hiding a smile that he doesn’t miss.

“Goodbye, Carlos,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for the screen.

The call ends, and Carlos sits back in his chair, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stares at the now-empty screen.

Us.

—-

It’s the bimonthly girlfriend meet-up, and Kika’s already locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

“So, there’s this guy,” you say casually, swirling your wine like this isn’t about to become the most chaotic conversation of your week.

Her brow arches, her smirk appearing like she’s just been handed premium-grade gossip.

“Oh?” she says, leaning in.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a slow sip from your glass, because wine is courage, and you need a lot of it right now.

“Tell me more,” she says, her tone deceptively sweet, like a predator coaxing its prey closer.

You hesitate. There’s no way you’re telling her the guy in question is Carlos Sainz.

That would be insane. Absolutely unhinged.

One, because it’s Carlos Sainz.

Two, because it’s Carlos fucking Sainz.

“We’ve been… hooking up,” you say vaguely, hoping to skate by with minimal detail.

Kika narrows her eyes. “Hooking up? Where? I haven’t seen you at the club scene lately, and I definitely haven’t heard from Charles about you sneaking out.”

You blink at her. “Why would Charles know- wait. Are you spying on me?”

“No,” she says breezily, waving a hand. “But Charles knows everything about you. If you were sneaking around Monaco with a guy, I’d know by now.”

Kika tilts her head, studying you. “So if it’s not a local guy…”

She pauses. Then her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Is it a long-distance thing? Is this why you’ve been all ‘mysterious vibes’ lately?”

You sigh, realizing you’re caught. “It’s phone sex, okay?”

Kika blinks. “Phone sex?”

“Yes,” you say, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp. “We’re doing… phone stuff.”

She hums, sitting back, her gaze calculating. “It’s a famous guy, isn’t it?”

“What?!” you sputter. “How did you- why would you even-”

“Ma’am, look at you.” She gestures at you like you’re an exhibit at the Louvre. “You’re gorgeous. You’re you. Why would you ever settle for phone sex unless it’s, like, some Vogue model or an A-lister who’s too busy jet-setting to see you in person?”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say, trying to laugh her off, but it sounds more like a dying animal.

Her grin turns absolutely wicked, the kind of wicked that makes you instantly regret ever letting her into your life. “Oh, so it is a famous guy. You just gave yourself away. Who is it? Spill.”

“I did not!” you protest, but it’s weak. Too weak.

Kika hums, tapping a finger on her chin as she tilts her head. “Hmm. Let me think. Is it an actor? A musician? Oh my God, is it Harry Styles? Blink once for yes.”

“Kika-”

“Wait!” She gasps, cutting you off and slapping the table. “Is it a prince? Are you pulling a Meghan Markle? Are we about to be royalty by proxy?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glaring at her as a nearby table turns to look at the commotion.

“Okay, okay, fine. I'll behave.”

“But,” she adds, holding up a finger and wagging it at you, “you can’t just stop there. I want details. Stories. Anecdotes. What have you two done other than, like, phone sex? That can’t be it, right? Kick it up a notch. Spice things up.”

Your face burns, and you take a long, slow sip of your drink, desperately trying to buy time. “We… talk.”

Kika stares at you, unimpressed. “Talk? Oh, please. You’re telling me a man calls you up just to talk?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Sometimes.”

Her grin turns sharper. “And the other times?”

You look away, pretending to be fascinated by the texture of the tablecloth.

“Oh no,” she says, leaning in like a predator cornering its prey. “You’re not getting out of this. What does he say? What does he do? Don’t make me guess because I will make it a thousand times worse.”

You groan, your head falling into your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care about you,” she says sweetly, patting your hand before grinning again. “Now spill. What’s the wildest thing he’s done so far? Flown you out to a private island? Sent you a love letter written in champagne? What are we working with here?”

You hesitate. You know telling her anything will only fuel her chaos, but at this point, it feels like you don’t have a choice.

“Fine,” you mumble. “He, um… he sent me a… package.”

You take a long sip of your wine, trying to ignore Kika’s razor-sharp gaze burning into the side of your face.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have.

But it’s too late now.

“He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

Kika chokes on her wine. Full-on chokes. She’s sputtering, clutching her chest as her eyes go wide.

Meanwhile, you calmly sip your drink, staring at some random painting on the wall like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“WHAT?!” she finally manages, her voice about three octaves higher than usual.

“I’m not saying it again,” you reply coolly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“He sent you a-” she starts, and then bursts into laughter so loud half the restaurant turns to look at your table.

You shoot her a glare, shushing her. “Could you not announce it to the entire world?”

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach. “Mr. Mystery sent you a dildo shaped like his cock?!”

You take another sip of wine, your cheeks burning. “It was… thoughtful.”

“THOUGHTFUL?!” she howls. “He’s out here like, ‘What’s a practical gift? Ah, yes, my dick!’”

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble into your hands, praying the floor will swallow you whole.

“Not a big- ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

“Kika,” you hiss, kicking her under the table.

“That’s so romantic,” she says, ignoring you entirely. “Forget flowers. Forget jewelry. Nothing says love like, ‘Here’s my dick. In case you miss me.’”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing you��ve ever told me,” she says, still grinning like a lunatic.

She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you… do you keep it on your nightstand? Like, right next to your lamp? Is it displayed like a trophy? Maybe on one of those little velvet stands?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glancing around the café as if someone might overhear this absolute chaos.

Her laughter crescendos, attracting a few curious stares from nearby tables. She waves them off with a flick of her wrist, too far gone to care.

“No, seriously, I need to know. Oh God, imagine if you lose it. Like, it’s just missing one day and you’re crawling around under your couch yelling, ‘Mr. Mystery, where’s your dick?!’”

You groan, your head dropping into your hands. “Can you be serious for one second?”

She sucks in a breath, fanning herself like she’s about to faint. “Okay, okay. Serious. Totally serious. I’m done. Promise.”

You peek at her through your fingers, skeptical. “You sure?”

She nods, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. “Totally. Except… I have one more question.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might grant you patience. “What now?”

She leans in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it… accurate?”

You freeze, horrified. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” she cries, grabbing your arm before you can stand. She’s laughing again, her grip on your sleeve shaking with the force of it. “Come on, I’m kidding! Mostly. But seriously. Is it accurate? Like, should we call MythBusters?”

You gape at her, flabbergasted. “Why would I answer that?”

“Because I’m dying to know!” she says, eyes gleaming.

You shake her off and reach for your bag. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she fires back, wagging a finger at you like a smug prosecutor. “Which makes me think it’s very accurate.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown this glass of wine at you.”

“Please,” she scoffs, twirling her straw. “You’d never waste good wine. Now, answer me. Did he measure it himself, or do you think there was a mold involved? Like, did he sit there in some science lab with a team of experts, being all, ‘Make sure you get the angle right!’?”

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again.

The two of you quiet down as a waiter approaches your little corner.

It’s quiet for a moment—mercifully quiet.

Kika is vibrating with barely restrained laughter, and you’re praying she doesn’t lose it while he’s standing there.

The waiter sets down your plates, refills your glasses, and gives Kika a quick, confused glance because she’s shaking like a malfunctioning washing machine.

You smile at him—tight, polite, please don’t ask questions, I beg you—and he wisely scurries off.

The second he’s out of earshot, Kika slams her hands on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Let me see it.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. “What?! No!”

“Why not?” she demands, like this is a perfectly reasonable request.

“Why not? Because we’re in a crowded restaurant, that’s why!” you hiss, clutching your purse like it’s a medieval chastity belt.

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re saying there’s a non-crowded situation where you’d show me?”

“That’s not what I said!”

She smirks. “Sure, but you didn’t not say it.”

“Kika, I swear to God-”

“Just one peek,” she pleads, like she’s asking for a bite of your dessert. “Under the table. No one will even notice!”

“Under the- what are you, a contraband dealer?” you whisper-yell. “This is not a shady back-alley dildo exchange!”

She grins, undeterred. “So, what does it look like? Is it… metallic?”

You freeze. “Why would it be metallic?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s fancy. Maybe it’s, like, a collector’s item.”

“It’s not a lightsaber, Kika!”

She gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God. Does it light up?!”

“No!”

“Are you sure?” she presses, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe it has LEDs. You know, for… ambiance.”

—

Kika’s obsession with the whole thing also refuses to let up. She knows, and worse, she loves knowing.

It starts small: innocent comments here and there, teasing questions she doesn’t expect you to answer.

But over time, her nosiness evolves into full-blown meddling. She’s not just curious. She’s invested.

And one day, it all comes to a head.

Kika cracks.

Or rather, her big mouth does.

“This is too good,” she hisses over the phone like she’s smuggling state secrets. “I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You drop your sandwich mid-bite, the mayo squelching onto the table. “What the hell do you mean you can’t keep it to yourself?”

“This secret,” she says, as if it’s physically weighing her down. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t keep it anymore.”

You groan. “Kika, we’ve talked about this. It’s not your secret to keep.”

“Which is exactly why I need to tell someone!” she snaps, like that’s a logical leap. “It’s not mine! It’s yours! I’m just... borrowing it, and now I’m returning it to the universe.”

“That’s not how secrets work,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples.

“I need to tell someone! Please, let me tell Alex,” she begs, her voice desperate, like she’s asking for kidney donation approval.

You choke. You actually choke, sputtering on your words like a broken engine. “Are you insane? Have you lost what little is left of your mind?”

“She’s so cool! She won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Kika’s tone is sunny, like she’s campaigning for Alex to win Best Confidant of the Year. “She loves secrets! She’s a vault!”

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend! My. Brother’s. Girlfriend.” You emphasize each word like you’re explaining calculus to a toddler.

“And a great secret keeper regardless of who she’s dating!” She chirps, undeterred.

“She’s dating my brother,” you hiss, as if saying it will drive the point home in her thick skull, pacing across your room like a caged animal. “Do you not see the problem here?”

“I see no problem,” she says brightly. “Alex is the Fort Knox of secrets. She’ll take this to her grave.”

“She’ll take it to my brother,” you counter, jabbing the air with your finger even though she can’t see you. “And then my brother will take it to my mom, and then my mom will take it to church, and next thing you know, I’m being exorcised for sins of the phone!”

Kika laughs, the kind of laugh that means she’s not taking you seriously at all. “Don’t be dramatic. Your mom would faint.”

“Kika!” you hiss, lowering your voice even though no one else is in the room. “If you tell her, I swear to God, I’ll... I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call Mr. Mystery and complain about me?” Her grin is practically audible.

“Yes, and he’ll agree with me!” you snap, clutching your phone so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack. “Because this is not a group project!”

“Okay, okay!” She gasps, wheezing like she just finished a marathon. “I won’t tell her! I swear!”

You pause, narrowing your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Wait. Really?”

“No,” she says flatly, so matter-of-fact you feel your brain short-circuit. “I’m absolutely telling her. She’s going to lose her mind.”

You let out a shriek so loud your upstairs neighbor thumps on the floor in retaliation. “Kika, if you even breathe a word”

“Just picture it!” she interrupts, steamrolling over your protest. You can hear her bouncing on her bed. “I’ll text her right now. Something casual, like, ‘Hey Alex, you’re never going to believe-’”

“Fine!” you snap, throwing yourself onto the bed so hard the mattress squeaks in protest. “Fine, just tell her! But we do it in the next meet-up! I have to be present to keep your unruly mouth shut!”

Kika lets out an unholy squeal, the kind that makes dogs two blocks over start barking. You yank the phone away from your ear, grimacing.

“This is the best day of my life,” she announces, and you can practically hear her smirk.

“This is the worst day of mine,” you counter, dragging a pillow over your face and screaming into it.

“Relax,” she says breezily. You hear the telltale sound of typing. “Alex is going to eat this up. She loves a little drama.”

You lower the pillow just enough to breathe. “This isn’t drama. This is my life unraveling because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, please. You’re being dramatic,” she says, her tone so casual you almost throw your phone across the room. “It’s not like we're sending the story to Charles. That would be a scandal.”

You sit bolt upright. “Kika, I swear to all that is holy, if this gets back to him-”

“It won’t!” she chirps. “Unless Alex tells him. But she won’t. Probably.”

“Probably?!” Your voice cracks, and you claw at your scalp like you’re trying to yank out the stress by the roots.

“She’s trustworthy! You trust her, right?” Kika says, still typing away.

“No! I don’t trust anyone!” you shout, rolling onto your stomach and pounding your fists into the mattress. “Least of all you!”

Kika laughs so hard she starts coughing. “Oh, you’ll thank me for this one day,” she chokes out between wheezes.

“Unlikely,” you mutter.

“Anyway, gotta go! I’ll let you know if Alex is available next week,” Kika says brightly, and then the call ends before you can respond.

You stare at your phone in silence, a deep sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

Mistakes were made. By you. Specifically by trusting Kika with anything.

—

The restaurant is stupidly fancy, the kind of place where the bread basket comes with a backstory and the waiters judge you if you butter too enthusiastically.

You sit on the terrace, the Mediterranean sparkling behind you like a postcard that refuses to let you forget how expensive everything is.

Your table has a perfect view of the marina, where billionaires are essentially playing a game of “whose yacht is bigger.”

Not that you’re paying attention.

Alex and Kika are too busy ruining your life for you to focus on anything else.

Alex is halfway through her sea bass when you drop the bomb.

She freezes, her knife poised mid-cut, before her hand falls to the table.

Her fork clatters onto the porcelain plate, loud enough to make a few patrons turn their heads.

You wince, sinking lower in your chair.

Across from you, Kika sips her champagne, completely unbothered. She smirks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re kidding,” Alex says, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kika doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, she’s not kidding,” she says, swirling her glass lazily. “She’s dead serious.”

You squirm under Alex’s gaze, picking at your lobster ravioli like it might swallow you whole if you wish hard enough. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble.

Alex snorts, an uncharacteristically undignified sound for someone who normally looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue.

“Not a big deal?” she repeats, her voice rising just enough to make you glance nervously at the tables around you.

“Shut it. People are going to hear,” you hiss.

“Oh, darling,” Kika cuts in, her grin widening. “If people heard, they’d ask for more details. Probably start taking notes.”

Alex ignores her, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, etiquette be damned.

“You’re telling me you’ve been having phone sex with some elite celebrity and it’s ‘not a big deal?’”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we not call it that?”

“What would you prefer?” Kika asks, her eyes practically sparkling. “Verbal intimacy? Oral storytelling?”

“I hate you both,” you mutter.

Alex waves her off, laser-focused on you. “And the… gift?” she asks, voice dripping with disbelief. “Are we glossing over the fact that he sent you a dildo?”

“It was thoughtful,” Kika offers, deadpan, before taking another sip of champagne.

“Stop helping,” you snap at her.

“I mean, really,” Alex continues, ignoring the interruption. “The man is rich, probably gorgeous to somehow convince you to give him a chance, could maybe have anyone he wants- and he’s doing phone sex with you?”

You glare at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean,” she says, brushing off your sarcasm. “Why would he go through all this effort unless-” She stops, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s just cracked the Da Vinci Code.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” you ask, already dreading whatever is coming next.

“That man is in love with you,” Alex declares, her tone final, like she’s just announced a royal decree.

You choke on air, coughing so violently that Kika reaches over to thump your back, more amused than concerned. “He is not in love with me!” you wheeze.

“He absolutely is,” Alex insists, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“That’s a huge leap,” you argue, waving your hands in front of you. “How do you get ‘in love’ from… from phone sex and-” You gesture vaguely. “Other things?”

Alex doesn’t blink. “He’s a famous athlete, right?”

“Sure,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “So?”

“So,” she says, leaning forward, “he’s settling for phone sex instead of hooking up with someone in person? That doesn’t happen unless he’s in love.”

“It’s not settling!” you argue, flailing slightly. “It’s convenient! We have an NDA; it’s low effort!”

“Low effort?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “More low effort than walking into a club and taking his pick of willing women?”

“Well… yeah!”

Kika cackles, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, babe. You really think you’re less effort? That’s adorable.”

You glare at her, but Alex presses on, relentless. “Does he do this with anyone else?”

“How would I know that?” you snap.

“Ask him,” Alex says simply, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on,” Kika says, grinning. “Just casually drop it into conversation. ‘Hey, Mr. Mystery, quick question: am I your only long-distance dirty talk partner, or is this a group activity?’”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m not asking him that.”

“Why not?” Alex demands, cutting into her sea bass like this conversation isn’t actively ruining your life. “If it’s no big deal, he won’t mind. And if he does mind, well…” She trails off, her smirk infuriatingly smug.

“Then you’ll know he’s in love with you!” Kika chimes in, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Or he’ll think I’m insane,” you shoot back.

Alex shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Either way, it’s good information to have.”

You sit back in your chair, glaring at the two of them as they sip their champagne like this is the most entertaining lunch they’ve ever had.

“You two are the worst,” you mutter.

Kika raises her glass in a mock toast. “To Mr. Mystery and his poor, emotionally repressed heart.”

Alex clinks her glass against Kika’s with a soft laugh. “And to you,” she adds, “the object of his inconvenient affections.”

You consider grabbing their glasses and chucking them into the marina, but that would only prove their point.

Instead, you stab your ravioli with far more force than necessary, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mistakes. So many mistakes.

—

You can’t stop thinking about it.

Carlos. In love with you.

The concept is so utterly ridiculous you actually laugh to yourself, out loud, like a complete maniac.

Because Carlos isn’t in love with you.

That’s not how this works. Carlos doesn’t do “love.” Carlos doesn’t do you.

Well, okay, he does you in certain… contexts, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Carlos is like a human golden retriever with too much charm for his own good.

He’s nice to everyone. He flirts with everyone. He probably gives everyone those stupid lingering looks that make your knees go weak.

He doesn’t fall in love. And if he did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with you.

But the thought won’t leave your brain. It’s set up camp there, pitching a tent and roasting marshmallows over the fire of your own self-doubt.

And then the photo happens.

It’s a normal day.

Quiet. Peaceful, even.

You’re in bed scrolling through your phone, feeling pretty good about life.

You’ve got coffee on the nightstand, a blanket wrapped around you, and a vague sense of superiority because you haven’t thought about Carlos in at least six hours.

Then his face pops up on your feed.

Carlos, golden and gorgeous, lounging on a yacht like he’s auditioning for a Bond movie. He’s shirtless, of course. Because of course he is. The sun catches in his hair, and his jawline looks so sharp it could cut glass.

You don’t even blink.

You’re too used to this by now. This is just Carlos being Carlos.

But then you see her.

The girl.

She’s pressed up against him, all long legs and glossy hair and perfect teeth. She’s laughing, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his chest like it’s hers to touch.

Your stomach does something horrifying, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is normal. Carlos is always surrounded by beautiful women. This means nothing.

But the way he’s looking at her…

You throw your phone across the bed like it just personally insulted you.

Then you lie back and stare at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’re not spiraling.

Spoiler alert: you’re totally spiraling.

Which is how you end up calling Kika and Alex.

Because misery loves company, and also because you’re desperate for someone to tell you you’re not crazy.

“Hello?” Kika answers, far too cheerful for your current mood.

“I need help,” you blurt out.

“What kind of help?” she asks cautiously.

“Emotional help,” you say dramatically. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Of course you are,” she says. “Hang on, I’m adding Alex.”

“No, don’t-”

Too late. Alex’s voice cuts in, already exasperated. “What happened now?”

“He posted a photo,” you mumble, already regretting this.

“Okay…” Alex says slowly. “And?”

“And there was a girl in it,” you say, your voice climbing an octave.

“Oh my God,” Kika groans.

Alex sighs. “Let me guess. Hot girl, hand on his chest, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine?”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, sitting up. “How do you always know?”

“Because this happens every time,” he says dryly. “It’s cliche at this point. You're a walking cliche.”

You whine. “He looked… happy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kika asks, “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Okay, just checking,” she says. “Because you sound drunk. Or insane. Possibly both.”

“I’m being serious!” you say, flopping back onto the bed. “What if he actually likes her?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Alex says without hesitation.

“You don’t even know who she is!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “No one’s better than you.”

You groan. “That’s not helpful.”

“Look,” Kika cuts in, her tone gentler now. “You’ve got two options. One, you ask him about it. Two, you do what you always do and overthink yourself into oblivion.”

“Three,” Alex adds, “you block him, move to a remote island, and live off coconuts for the rest of your life.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter.

“No, you don’t,” Kika says sweetly. “Now, are you going to talk to him or not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “What if I ask and he laughs at me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”

“Then you’ll know,” Alex says simply.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

Knowing.

Because right now, as painful as it is, not knowing still feels safer than finding out the truth.

“Thanks, guys,” you say finally.

“Anytime,” Kika says. “Now go stalk his Instagram and cry into your coffee like a normal person.”

“Bye,” you grumble, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling for a long time after that, the ache in your chest refusing to fade.

—

So, you cut him off.

Not all at once, because that would be too obvious, and God forbid Carlos Sainz think you’re actually affected by anything he does.

No, you do it slowly, carefully, like easing out of a party you didn’t really want to attend in the first place.

At first, it’s just a delay in your replies. Not anything dramatic, just enough to make it seem like you’ve got better things to do than hang on his every word.

When he sends a text, you leave it unread for an hour. Maybe two.

(Okay, fine, sometimes you read it immediately and then stare at your phone for thirty minutes trying not to reply, but that’s beside the point.)

When you do respond, you keep it short. Curt, even. No emojis, no playful banter, just cold, functional sentences.

Carlos How’s your day going?

You Busy

Carlos Busy with what?

You Work

He doesn’t push, which is somehow worse.

You want him to notice, to ask what’s wrong, to demand answers you’re not prepared to give. But he doesn’t.

He just keeps texting you, the same way he always has, like nothing’s changed.

When he asks to call, you tell him you’re busy. Which is technically true, if “busy” includes reorganizing your spice rack and watching sad movies while eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

It’s not immediate, but it’s different.

The rhythm of your conversations shifts, the easy flow replaced by stilted exchanges that feel like wading through molasses.

The worst part is how much it hurts.

Because cutting him off isn’t supposed to hurt you. It’s supposed to make things better. Easier. Less messy.

But instead, you’re walking around like some tragic romantic hero, clutching your metaphorical wounds and waiting for someone to ask why you look so miserable.

You try to distract yourself.

You download a meditation app, but the soothing voice telling you to “release your tension” only makes you think about how Carlos used to tease you for clenching your jaw when you were stressed.

You go out with friends, laughing too loud and drinking too much, but every time your phone buzzes, you can’t stop yourself from hoping it’s him.

It usually is.

Carlos Did I do something

You Just busy

Carlos Are you mad at me

You No

You toss your phone onto the couch and stare at it like it’s personally betrayed you. He’s starting to notice, which is both validating and soul-crushing.

Because if he notices, then maybe, just maybe, he actually cares.

And if he actually cares, then maybe cutting him off isn’t the answer.

But then you remember the photo. The girl. The way he looked at her.

And you remind yourself that Carlos Sainz isn’t yours. He never was.

So you keep going.

You tell yourself it’ll get easier. That eventually, his texts will stop coming, and the ache in your chest will fade, and you’ll finally be free of whatever this is.

But for now, you’re just sad and tired and watching Pride & Prejudice for the third time this week, convincing yourself you’re Elizabeth Bennet and he’s Mr. Darcy, except there’s no grand declaration at the end.

There’s just silence.

—

It's one of those times where you answer Carlos' call so he doesn't think you're actively avoiding him.

You’re stretched out on your couch, half-listening as Carlos narrates the chaos of his day, his voice flitting between amusement and exaggerated frustration.

“…and then they tell me the setup’s wrong, again, so I had to sit there, listening to engineers argue for an hour. An hour! I’m telling you, I deserve a medal just for staying awake.”

“Tragic,” you reply, dry as ever. “Truly, you’re the unsung hero of motorsport.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, his tone shifting as if you’ve validated some grand injustice. “Finally, someone understands.”

You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of leather, and you know he’s probably leaning back in one of those expensive chairs he likes so much, the ones you tease him about.

It’s a scene you’ve imagined a thousand times—so familiar it borders on comforting.

“So,” he says, drawing out the word like he’s gearing up for something. “Guess where I am right now?”

“Let me think,” you say. “Some glamorous location with a ridiculous view and an overpriced minibar?”

“Close,” he says, and you can hear the grin tugging at his words. “I’m in Monaco.”

Your heart stumbles, just a little, just enough to be annoying, but you keep your voice casual. “Oh, the usual playground of the rich and famous. How very you.”

“Hey, it’s practically home,” he teases, and the warmth in his tone makes your stomach twist. “And speaking of home… aren’t you supposed to be here too? Isn’t that, like, the whole point of being Monegasque?”

You hesitate, just for a beat, but it’s long enough.

“…Wait,” he says, his voice sharpening with suspicion. “You’re not here, are you?”

“I’m in Italy,” you admit, aiming for breezy and landing somewhere closer to forced.

There’s a pause, the kind of silence that feels heavier than it should. “Italy?” he repeats, his voice carefully light, like he’s trying not to make something of it. “What are you doing there?”

“Just am,” you say, shrugging even though he can’t see it.

“Right,” he says slowly, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing through the line.

He doesn’t push it, though, because Carlos is a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of person who asks questions he’s not ready to hear the answers to.

He shifts the conversation after that, steering it back to safer waters.

He tells you about a restaurant he tried, about the ridiculous amount of traffic on his way to the track.

You laugh in the right places, make snarky comments when it’s expected, and for a while, it feels almost normal.

But it’s not.

The photo lingers in the back of your mind like a ghost. Her hand on his chest, his easy grin, the effortless way they fit together.

You thought you could handle it. Thought you could keep things light and easy, pretend that the photo didn’t bother you, that you hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time dissecting every pixel like it held some kind of secret truth.

But now, sitting here, listening to him ramble on about his day like everything’s fine, you’re not so sure.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the flow of his own story. His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful. “You’ve been kind of… off lately. Is everything okay?”

Your breath catches, just for a second.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you.

But he doesn’t call you on it. He just hums softly, like he’s letting you have this one.

The conversation winds down after that. He says something about an early meeting, and you use it as an excuse to end the call.

—

Carlos has a suspicion you’re avoiding him.

Or maybe, just maybe, Charles Leclerc has turned into some kind of shadowy mastermind, meticulously coordinating Carlos’s travel schedule just so he can keep you two apart.

It’s ridiculous, sure, but how else do you explain it?

When Carlos is in Monaco, you’re in Italy. When he’s in Italy, you’re in Mallorca. When he’s in Mallorca, you’ve suddenly jetted off to Switzerland, of all places.

It’s like you’ve taken on the role of “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” with unsettling precision, a game he didn’t even know he was playing until now.

At first, he tried to laugh it off.

Told himself it was just bad timing, a string of coincidences that would eventually break in his favor.

But now? Now it feels deliberate. Calculated. And the worst part is, he knows you. Knows you well enough to feel the subtle shift in the air between you, like a storm quietly gathering on the horizon.

He’s tried to tell himself he’s overthinking it.

That you’ve just been busy, that your life doesn’t revolve around him and his schedule.

But the excuses are starting to ring hollow, even to his own ears.

The delayed responses to his texts. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes when he finally does manage to catch you available for a call.

And now, sitting alone in his Monaco apartment, his phone resting on the coffee table in front of him like a lifeline you’ve left dangling just out of reach, Carlos can’t shake the weight that’s settled in his chest.

You’re pulling away.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, sudden and brutal.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands running through his hair as he stares at the floor.

His heart feels heavy, tangled up in a mess of confusion and hurt and something he doesn’t want to name.

Why? That’s the question that keeps circling back.

Why are you doing this? Why now, when he feels like he’s finally starting to understand just how much you mean to him?

His mind races, replaying every interaction, every conversation, searching for the moment he might’ve pushed you away without realizing it.

Did he say something? Did he not say enough?

“Dios,” he mutters under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.

He doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to believe it, but the thought won’t leave him alone: maybe you’ve finally gotten tired of him.

The idea makes his chest ache, a dull, hollow pain that spreads until it feels like it’s consuming him.

He doesn’t want to lose you, doesn’t want to let go of the quiet moments, the shared laughs, the way you make him feel like he can just be for once.

But what can he do? He can’t force you to stay, can’t make you want him if you don’t.

He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over your name in his messages and sends a message before he chickens out.

Carlos Where are you right now?

You Still hoping for that coffee date, huh?

Carlos Always

You …Paris

Carlos frowns at his phone, and you can almost hear the mental gears grinding in his head. Paris. Of course, it’s Paris. Because why wouldn’t it be?

Carlos Okay, I’m going there.

Your phone buzzes immediately, the boldness of his response catching you off guard.

You What?

You ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Carlos Yes.

You Carlos, you can’t just drop everything and fly to Paris.

Carlos Watch me.

You stare at your phone, torn between laughing and rolling your eyes. This is insane. You text him back, unsure if you want to be mad or amused.

You This is insane.

Carlos No, it’s determination.

You It’s bordering on stalker behavior.

Carlos Then stop running from me.

You I’m not running!

Carlos You’re in a different country every time I blink. Sounds like running.

You It’s called having a life.

Carlos A life that conveniently never overlaps with mine. Carlos Got it.

You Carlos, I swear to God if you actually come here

He doesn’t reply. The silence settles in, and you think that’s the end of it. Carlos is too sensible to drop everything and fly to Paris, right? Right?

Wrong.

Three hours later, you’re in your hotel room, scrolling through your phone while you regret the third croissant you scarfed down earlier, when you hear a knock at the door.

You frown, setting your phone down. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

Curious, you peek through the peephole. And there he is.

Carlos Sainz.

Standing in the hallway, casually leaning against the doorframe, holding a bouquet of flowers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your jaw drops.

You swing the door open before you can think better of it. “What are you doing here?”

Carlos shrugs, flowers in hand. “You said Paris.”

“That wasn’t an invitation!” you hiss, your eyes darting up and down the hallway as if expecting paparazzi to jump out from behind the elevator.

“Seemed like one to me,” he says, unfazed, like he’s the most logical person in the universe. “Besides, I brought flowers. That makes it okay.”

You stand there, staring at him, completely caught between laughing and slamming the door in his face. “This is… I don’t even have words.”

“‘Thank you’ works,” he suggests, stepping past you as if he has every right to be there, dropping onto the armchair with the ease of someone who’s been invited to stay.

“Excuse me-” you splutter, still holding the flowers, but too stunned to do anything with them.

Carlos stretches his legs out in front of him like he’s planning to stay a while. “Nice room. Cozy.”

“You can’t just-” You gesture wildly at him, still holding the flowers like they’re some kind of shield. “Carlos, this is insane!”

“What’s insane,” Carlos says, his voice slicing through the heavy silence, “is how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, cutting through the thin armor you’ve been clinging to.

You wince, his accusation landing squarely on the truth you’ve been trying so desperately to bury.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, they feel hollow.

A poor, pathetic attempt to cover up the obvious.

His eyes narrow. “Yes, you are,” he replies, his voice edged with a kind of raw frustration you’ve never heard from him before. “You’ve been avoiding me, pulling away like I’ve done something-”

He leans forward, his knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching them. “Did I do something? Tell me, please.”

You shake your head quickly, your chest tightening. “No, Carlos, you didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracks, rising just enough to make you flinch. There’s a tremor in his tone, something that tells you this isn’t just frustration- it’s pain.

Your mind races, heart pounding against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape. You can’t look at him.

You can’t meet his eyes because you know what you’ll see there: vulnerability. A rawness you’re too afraid to face.

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you,” you say again, but your voice wavers. The lie cracks as it leaves your lips.

Carlos exhales sharply, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You’re not avoiding me? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you are.”

His voice lowers, softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, dodging my texts. You won’t even look at me right now.”

He pauses, his voice dropping even further, his words so quiet they’re barely a whisper. “It’s like you’re disappearing right in front of me.”

“I’ve been busy,” you mumble weakly, knowing even as you say it how ridiculous it sounds.

“Busy,” he repeats, dragging the word out like it physically pains him to say it. “Right. Busy. Of course. That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he steamrolls ahead, his voice rising in disbelief. “Do you think I’m stupid? Is that it? Like I haven’t noticed you pulling some kind of secret agent disappearing act every time I’m within a five-mile radius?”

“I’m not-”

“Oh, please!” he cuts you off, throwing his hands up dramatically. “When I was in Monaco, you were in Italy. When I was in Italy, you were in Mallorca. When I was in Mallorca, you went to Paris. I thought you cared about the planet!”

“I had a reason!” you defend weakly.

“Oh, sure. Let me guess. You were ‘busy.’” He uses air quotes this time, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Busy doing what? Hiding in the catacombs so I wouldn’t find you?”

“Carlos-”

“No, seriously! Are you Carmen Sandiego? Did you take on a secret job as an international spy and forget to tell me? Because at this point, that’s the only explanation that makes any sense!”

You can’t help it.

A small, nervous laugh escapes you, but it’s swallowed by the look he gives you, a mix of exasperation and something rawer, something vulnerable that wipes the humor from your face instantly.

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Why are you doing this? What happened? Did I do something?”

“No!” you blurt out, the word rushing out of you like a reflex. “You didn’t do anything-”

“Then what?” he demands, stepping closer, his brows furrowed. “Why does it feel like every time I try to get close to you, you’re already halfway out the door? What is it? Did I say something? Did I forget something important? Did I-”

“Stop!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended, cutting him off mid-spiral. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me!”

He freezes, his hands hovering in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “What do you mean, it’s you?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Carlos. I can’t keep pretending like this, like we, don’t mean more to me than it should.”

His brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Your hands fly to your face, your voice shaking as you add, “Not as a joke. Not as a friend. Not in some ‘haha, Carlos is cute, what if’ kind of way. I’m in love with you, and it’s ruining me, and now I’ve said it, and- oh my God- I’m going to vomit-”

“Wait, what?” Carlos interrupts, his voice a mix of shock and something dangerously close to hope.

“You heard me!” you snap, your hands still covering your face as you pace in frantic little circles. “I’m in love with you, and now I’ve ruined everything, and you’re going to freak out and leave, and then I’ll have to fake my death and move to Antarctica and befriend a penguin colony-”

“Will you stop?” he cuts in, grabbing your arm to stop your pacing. “Just- stop for a second, okay?”

You yank your arm back instinctively, shaking your head. “No, I can’t stop! Because if I stop, I’m going to have to look at you, and if I look at you, I’m going to see the exact moment you decide this is too much, and you walk out of my life forever, and I’m not emotionally equipped for that-”

“Would you listen to me?” he shouts, his voice startling you into silence.

His hands fall to his sides, his eyes locking on yours with a desperate kind of intensity. “I’m not walking out of your life, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, do you really think so little of me?”

Your lip wobbles, your voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You’ll leave.”

He lets out a laugh. Sharp, exasperated, and a little unhinged. “I’m in love with you, you absolute idiot.”

You freeze. Your brain is refusing to process what he just said. “What?”

“I said I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder this time, as if yelling the words will hammer them into your skull.

“Have been since the first night, I think. Do you honestly believe I’d fly halfway across the world, lose sleep, and spam you with dog pictures because I don’t love you?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You- what?”

“Yes!” he throws his hands up, pacing like he’s been holding this in for years and it’s physically painful to let it out. “God, how do you not see it? I thought I was being so obvious!”

Your brain is scrambling for any coherent thought, but instead, all you manage is: “Then who was that girl?”

Carlos blinks at you, mid-rant. “What girl?”

You fumble for your phone like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment to catch him red-handed.

Opening Instagram with trembling fingers, you shove the screen in his face, pointing at the offending photo. “This girl. The one on the yacht!”

He squints at the screen, then back at you, his brow furrowing.

“That’s my cousin, Marina.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“My cousin,” he says again, slower this time, as though you might be hard of hearing. “She’s married to a guy named Tomás. I was literally holding her bag while she FaceTimed her kids.”

You gape at him, the ground beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “Oh.”

Carlos stares at you, his mouth falling open. Then it clicks. “Oh my God. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were ghosting me because you thought I was on a yacht with my cousin?” he demands, his voice climbing into incredulous territory.

“It looked bad!” you squeak, the heat in your face making it impossible to look him in the eye. “I didn’t know she was your cousin! She was all- touchy!”

“She was showing me pictures of her dog!” he cries, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.

You clutch your head, feeling both humiliated and mildly hysterical. “I’m an idiot. I’m the biggest idiot alive.”

“No arguments there,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, then fixing you with a look that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You honestly thought I’d just…what? Post my side chick on Instagram for you to see?”

“I didn’t know what to think!” you snap, burying your face in your hands. “I panicked, okay? My brain spiraled!”

Carlos lets out a disbelieving laugh, pacing a tight circle like he’s trying to figure out how he got here. “So instead of asking me, you just…decided to ignore me? For weeks?”

“I said I panicked!” you groan, peeking at him through your fingers, mortified.

He stares at you for a beat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Spanish. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Your heart lurches, but you’re still too mortified to fully process it. “You can’t possibly still love me after this.”

“Oh, I can,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “But I’m definitely telling Marina about this. She’s going to think it’s hilarious.”

“No!” you cry, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. “Carlos, I swear to God, if you tell your cousin-”

He grins, all smug amusement now, his earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll think about keeping it a secret. On one condition.”

“What condition?” you ask warily.

“You stop ghosting me,” he says simply, his voice softening as his eyes meet yours. “And maybe…start trusting me a little more?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your own stupidity pressing down on you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor. “I really messed this up.”

“Yeah, you did,” he agrees, but there’s no bite to his words. He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look at him. “But you can make it up to me. Dinner tomorrow?”

You nod, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

“And for the record,” he adds, smirking, “if you ever ghost me again, I’m showing up with a mariachi band.”

You groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs, but you can’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. Somehow, against all odds, he’s still yours.

---

@lilorose25 @widow-cevans @mderby03 @zyklion @papichulomacy @irisesinthegarden @leclercdream @moonvr @ilovemeni @iamdedsthingz @shwnirwin @softhecreator @claimingharrystigertattoo @5sospenguinqueen @wadupppdylan-blog @waytooobsessedwithlife @weekendlusting

[gothicfied]

(Squid game s2) Can you write a comfort fic about an insecure reader has past trauma and has endured Highschool bullying. When she joins the games and is in the group (Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jun-hee & others) but once they meet Jun-hee she gets pushed aside and has to join another group in the second game. Feel free to change or add anything, the pairing could be Daeho x reader but it’s up to you <33

Never alone again - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After seeing you almost die, Dae-ho swore he wouldn't leave your side ever again.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

A/N: hii! tysm for the request and I hope I did it justice.

You believed Gi-hun from the start. You believed he was right, no sane person would just say stuff like that, right? That they kill each player who gets eliminated? He seemed too damn serious for it to be a lie. And lo and behold, he was right. People. Shot dead. Right in front of you. Red-Light-Green-Light was a traumatic experience. You wanted to quit, you wanted to go home, go home and hug your parents and just be grateful to still be alive.

It was like the universe had turned against you. How wasn't everyone scared out of their minds like you? Was money really all that mattered to them? A heated discussion broke out during the first voting, angry voices yelling at each other, accusing Gi-hun of lying. You took all the courage you had left in you to try and stand up for him, at least make it known that you sided with him. Past experiences, especially your school time, usually made it hard for you to speak up, but that shouldn't really be an issue right now — You could end up dead, that's what worried you. After the voting, that didn't go your way at all, Gi-hun showed gratitude for your courage to say something and suggested you'd stick with him from now on.

Added to your group were In-ho, the last player who actually voted 'O', Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who were both former marines. While eating the lunch provided to you by the guards, those two immediately bonded over their former occupation, which you found endearing. Even though you were currently still to shy to join in on their conversations, you were content with just having a group you could stick to — Because you were sure you absolutely wouldn't survive in here alone.

"And, what's your name?" Dae-ho asked, as hd took a seat on the stairs next to you, happily eating his food. When you told him he gasped, almost chocking in the process. "That's my sisters name!" he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. You just replied with a little "Oh? No way." and then he began rambling about his life, about his four sisters, about how his father sent him to be a marine and so on. He closed his monologue saying "Anyway, that's a really pretty name." and then proceeded to ask you for your leftover food. He made you laugh, which was nice considering you all were stuck in this hellhole.

In Dae-ho's opinion, you two had a lot in common, even if you didn't at all. He suggested you slept in the bed right under his which was.. well, free now after the first game. At night, you couldn't help but overthink your interactions with not only him, but the other three guys, too. They were so nice and welcoming. All of them had a special attribute that will probably be useful in the coming few days.. and you? You had the feeling that you brought nothing to the table.

The next day, a vast majority of the players went into the second game with the impression that this will be Dalgona, like Gi-hun predicted. Apparently not. The female voice over the speakers ordered the players to form groups of five. "Ah, how perfect," In-ho smiled, "guess we'll be a group then." You looked between the men, nodding in agreement and just when you were about to say something-

"Excuse me, are you maybe searching for one more person-?"

"Oh, no I'm sorry, we're actually already five peo-"

"I'm pregnant."

The girl cut Jung-bae off, resting her hands on her pregnant belly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and no one really seemed to know what to do next. Oh, you felt bad for her. She must've been very desperate if she entered the games while being pregnant. You five were just looking at each other confused, until you took a deep breath: "It's okay, I'll find another group. She needs to be with people she can absolutely win with." You looked at the girl and she looked back, slowly giving you a grateful smile. "No it's okay I'll go-" Dae-ho tried to say, but you waved him off, shaking your head.

"Well.. No, you can't just.."

"Dae-ho," In-ho said in a low tone, putting a hand on his shoulder, "she's pregnant." he said, like Dae-ho needed a reminder of what was right in front of him. You weren't that important to the team anyways, and that girl needed your help. So, it was decided, and in the end you did find a team of three players who voted 'X', like you, and one who didn't. You felt fairly safe with these people and even if you didn't, you didn't have much of a choice.

The game was a six-legged pentathlon with five mini games you had to split between each team member to complete. Watching the first few teams go was an absolute adrenaline rush, given the small amount of time of five minutes, the first few players were shot on sight pretty early on. This made you nervous to the point where you could throw up. Your original group was sitting a few meters away from youd current one and you did lock eyes with Dae-ho quite a bit, him giving you reassuring glances or a thumbs up. You mustered up a smile, trying yo calm your thoughts down.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this-

Oh but you could. Your team, which came before Gi-hun's, barely made it over the finish line with three seconds to spare, making the crowd of waiting players roar and cheer and yell "Good job!". The most time you lost was at Gonggi, thankfully not your mini game. Being able to beat yours on the first try filled you with the confidence you needed, which was probably the only thing that kept you up on your feet. Speaking of which, the shackles, that bound your left leg together with the player next to you, were taken off of them and you were free to go. Well, back into the dorm area.

Anxiously, you sat on your bed and waited, for your team. Players streamed in, one after the other, just not the ones you were so desperate to see. You were biting your fingernails, your thoughts being flooded with the fear of them all just dying, being left alone to survive this shit.

Suddenly, you heard a voice call out for you. It was Dae-ho (who else?) who basically sprinted to you. Before you could even stand up to reciprocate his hug, he pulled you up into his arms, squeezing the air out if his lungs. "Do you know how scared I was?" he sounded really out of breath. You didn't reply, just hugged him back the best you could and watched Jung-bae laugh to himself, watching the two of you. "I'm so glad you're alive! I'll never let you do that again, okay? Next time, I'll be the one to find another group.. not you okay?" His word vomit just wouldn't stop.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time."

"Obviously there won't be, I won't ever let you leave again."

[xaiquyn]

I'm bored, so answering all of them in one right here.

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

The entire cast of the Moomins (but especially Snufkin and Joxter)

lighter or matches?

Matches. I like the smell of them and I weirdly struggle with using a lighter.

do you leave the window open at night?

In summer when it's hot, yes. When it's cold? No.

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

I genuinely believe that ghosts could exist. Not saying they do exist, saying the could.

what color are your eyes?

Blue/green. It's hard to tell and seemingly changes with the lighting.

why did you do that?

What?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

Scrunchies are fun. :)

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

Five. All open, two empty.

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Don't drink coffee. :/

would you slaughter the rich?

Yes. Let me maul the corpses of the rich.

favorite extracurricular activity?

Art of all sorts.

what kind of day is it?

In terms of weather? Cold. To the point where I skipped school to avoid frostbite. In terms of my mood? Weirdly contented. I feel properly at peace for the first time in a while.

when was the last time you ate?

'Bout five hours ago. (It's 20:00 rn)

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

ABSOLUTELY. One of, if not, my favourite smells. I love it with all my heart and I apparently taught my parents the word for that smell. (petrichor)

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

No.

can you drive?

Nope.

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Genuinely don't know. Never cared to figure out what either of those would really entail.

what hair products do you use?

Like I pay attention to that.

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

No. Nail polish is the most vile smell on this horrid Earth filled with horrid smells.

do you say soda or pop?

Depends on which one whoever I'm speaking with says.

something you’ve kept since childhood?

This old plush I've had since I was a baby.

what type of person are you?

Introvert?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

Love it! That's my kind of weather. Even better is when there's a fog covering everything to the point of barely being visible. I like to go out into the woods near my house and pretend I'm a cryptid.

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

Stargazing.

perfume/body spray or lotion?

No?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

Having a girlfriend/boyfriend. Had to replay that one alot to figure out I'm aroace..

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Last night? 'Bout four.

do you wear a mask?

Nope.

how do you like your shower water?

Lukewarm at the hottest. Cold if I'm in the mood for it.

is there dishes in your room?

Yep. There's a bowl I forgot about earlier today.

what type of music keeps you grounded?

Folksy-type music. Especially the type I get wanderlust from.

do you have a favorite towel?

No? Do some people?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Christmas. I had a bit of a breakdown when it was like 19:00 or smth, the day was a bit overwhelming. And my dad noticed, and for the next two hours we drove around the town.

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

A lot! To name a few: Flight of the Crows by Jhariah, Suffering by Amélie Farren, Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep, and Constellations by The Oh Hellos to name a few.

what’s your timezone?

GMT-5 (I think)

how many times have you changed your url?

Once

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Nobody.

a soap bar that smells good?

You think I pay attention to that? When showering, I'm not even mildly present. I am fully dissociating.

do you use lip balm?

Nope.

did you have any snacks today?

Most of the food I had today was snack, minus bacon.

how do you take your coffee?

I don't drink coffee.

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Ao3.

what’s your take on spicy foods?

Love 'em.

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

My mother.

can you remember what happened yesterday?

Not much of it.

favorite holiday film?

Don't really watch Holiday films.

what was the last message you sent?

Me confirming to my overbearing mother that I was still alive at school on Monday.

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Still underage.

can you skip rocks?

Yep.

can i tag you in random stuff?

PLEASE. I LOVE TO BE INCLUDED IN ANYTHING.

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[souljahwwitch]

PINK HAIRED SWEETHEART! pt.2

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 some hc’s about thanos x fem reader! after the squid game <3

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ; since everyone wanted part two with thanos and pink haired reader, here you go!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 what you didn’t expect was, during the squid game, thanos went in length to take a pen from those pink soldiers, just so he can write your number on his hand, he promised you two will go to a pretty cafe—didn’t he?

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 but when you, him and like—four more people finally got out, with shit tons of money, your paths were separated—afterall they left every single one in different places. and you didn’t even know where he lives, you thought it was just his little joke.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you were chilling in your room, two days later-figuring out your plan, and then you got a call from an unknown number, you thought nothing of it—just picking up mindlessly

“hello?” you mumbled softly

“missed that annoying voice of yours, not gonna lie.” your eyes widened—it really was him, he wasn’t playing around.

“you jerk! you weren’t joking” you said with a giggle—and you couldn’t help but notice the way your heart did a flip at his laugh.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you two soon made plans that consisted of just chilling, you two found a cute cat cafe and he said he’d be waiting for you there tomorrow at 8 pm

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you actually put some effort in looking pretty (you always are pretty!) but it was kind of strange when he saw you bloodied and messy.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 when you entered the said cafe, you saw him there—cigarette in his mouth, your eyes got glassy for whatever reason as you sat across from him, his eys widening and his grin to his eyes.

“your hair is hard to miss, angel” he said, smirking and you rolled your eyes—mumbling a little ‘says you.’

“soo how you doing after all of..this.” you contemplated his question.

“i still don’t feel anything, it’ll take a few days for me to realize what the fuck happened.” you said, honestly.

“i mean…for a pretty little thing like you—you were fucking ruthless.”

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you two talked and talked, and you couldn’t help but notice there was something different in his eyes rather than annoyance

“y’know, you should wear your hair in two braids more often, suits the pretty pink that’s going on.” he said, his eyes ranking over you shamelessly

“you think so?” you mumbled softly, looking up at him all shy and pretty

“yeah—yeah i think so, angel.” he mumbles, his tattoed hand softly tilting your chin up at him, his face getting dangerously close.

[satorella]

“𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥” [𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍]

You caught 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 attention at a soccer conference in Japan about a year ago, where you were hired to take pictures for the sports magazine you worked for. At first, it was just him being his usual arrogant and cocky self when he randomly gave you VIP tickets just because.

“Oh… uh… d-danke, Herr Kaiser…” [Thank you, Mr. Kaiser] You gave him a polite smile. He tilted his head, “Ah, you speak German?” “Just a little… enough for a tourist to get by.” You answered. He nodded and smirked, “Cheer for me, ja?” [Yes?] He pointed at the tickets in your hand as he turned to walk away. “Ja…” You gave an awkward little wave.

Neither of you had any idea where this would eventually lead though…

A couple days later, you woke up with your head throbbing, and Kaiser sleeping soundly next to you... naked under the sheets. You looked around, realizing you were in his hotel room, and both of your clothes were thrown carelessly all over the place; on the sofa, on the counter, the floor, your panties were even hanging on the damn lamp. Then it all started to come back to you. What was supposed to just be a few innocent glasses of champagne at the afterparty of his game, turned into a bit more… obviously. Once you came to, you slowly slipped out of his bed, searched for your clothes, and quietly left his room.

Fuuuuuck, did you really have a one night stand with Michael Kaiser?!?!

After a couple hours, you opened your suite door to...

"Guten Tag, Schöne." [Good day, beautiful.] Shit. "Herr Kaiser... hi... h-how'd you, um, know which room I was in?" You asked, looking both ways down the hallway. "I asked your little freund." [Friend.] He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway you left your, ah, kamera in my room. I figured you might want it back for work." He hands you your camera. "Oh! Danke!" You take the device. He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I looked through some of the photos. I hope you don't mind." He finally says before leaning down to your ear, “I enjoyed seeing the ones from last night as well.” He whispers, making a shiver run down your spine. Pictures? From last night? The hell is this guy talking about? Confusion and curiosity etched on your face, you turned your camera on and clicked through the recent photos...

You, your colleagues, Kaiser and his team taking shots.

You and Kaiser pouring each other shots.

You sitting on Kaiser's lap.

You, and what looks like, grinding on Kaiser.

You, completely blissed out, taking a selfie with Kaiser kissing your neck.

You taking a picture with Kaiser in the elevator door's reflection; he stood behind you with his hands on your hips... while he was busy with your neck.

Kaiser leading you into his hotel room.

You, in Kaiser’s POV… sitting naked on the counter, eyes low and head thrown back as you laughed. (You honestly looked great in this pic… if it weren’t for you being naked😵‍💫)

Kaiser... taking body shots off you...

A mirror selfie with Kaiser positioned behind you... holding one of your legs up on the vanity... while he-

ALRIGHT, you got the point! You quickly shut off the camera and looked at anywhere else but him. He smirked, seeing how shy you suddenly got. "I-I'll, uh, delete these… don't worry..." You cleared your throat. "Just because you get rid of the evidence of our fuck-fest, doesn't mean I'll let you forget it." He shamelessly looks you up and down, "Are you free to do it again tonight?" You scoffed. The nerve of this guy!? "I-I'm not some bootycall, you perv! Du bist so ein perverser!" [You are such a pervert!] You whisper-yelled. He laughed at your attempt to insult him in his own language. "Really? But from what I can remember, all you could say was 'Micha! So gut! Bitte! Bitte mehr!' hm?" [So good! Please! Please more!] All the color drained from your face. “Okay. Guten Tag, und Auf Wiedersehen.” [Good day, and goodbye.] You tried to close the door in his face, but he stopped it with one hand, “Nein. Wait.” [No. Wait.]

…And that’s how your love story all began. Annoying way to meet the love of your life, right? Agh! Aber du hast trotzdem gelernt, ihn zu lieben. 💆‍♀️ [Agh! But you still learned to love him.]

Ever since that day, he subconsciously started talking to you more and seeing you more at soccer conferences; country to country. You were the only foreigner that could actually understand him and have a decent conversation with him in his native tongue. (Not to mention, you kept each other company at night.) At games, he would casually search the crowd for your familiar pretty face, knowing you’d be there; rocking his jersey, waving and screaming his name. You showed up for him at every game, wherever it was. Even though he was still kind of an ass, your constant presence started to make him feel… something. Something he’s always wanted, but would never allow.

Kaiser wasn’t one to catch feelings. He’d usually cut out anything that would distract him from his goals. Nor does he really have that many friends due to his arrogant and rude personality. Sure, he has his team, but ehh. Then there was the thing going on with you. He actually didn’t mind having you around. You weren’t clingy and annoying like most women were. And he enjoyed the sex, of course. But after a while, he started to notice that things between you started to become something a little more than just sex. Even just talking to you became part of his daily routine. You guys met up to have breakfast/lunch/dinner together if you were in the same city, and FaceTimed if you weren’t. There were times where he just craved to hear your sweet voice after a gruesome day of practice. Craved to hear your stupid jokes that weren’t even funny, but it was really your laugh that he wanted to hear when he was having some depressing late night thoughts. God only knows why you still stick around. He’s unbearable half of the time, but here you were… choosing to deal with his bullshit.

All of it.

With time, you started to become the support system, the companionship, the patience, and the love he’s always wanted, needed, but was too prideful and damaged to ever ask for. You understood him. You were always there for him. And for once in his lonely life, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Currently, you and Kaiser were in his hotel room, massaging his scalp as he laid his head in your lap. You came to surprise him at one of his home games in his home country, Germany, after telling him just a few days ago that you wouldn’t be able to make it.

“I could have flown you out here, meine Schönheit. Tsk.” [My beauty.] He lightly scolds you. “But that would’ve ruined the surprise, ja?” You smiled. “Tsk.” He grabbed your wrist and moved your hand to his neck, “Here. Massage me here.” He demanded. “So sassy, mein Schatz.” [My darling.] You chuckled, but did as he said, massaging over his blue rose tattoo. He closed his eyes. “Your touch, it’s relaxing, meine Liebe.” [My love.] He said, which was a little unusual. He was being sweet and focusing on you, rather than bragging about how his team wouldn’t have won without him; which was what he usually did after a win. You leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead as a reply. You weren’t sure how to respond to that… without saying the wrong thing and risking ruining his good mood. He opened his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you. He pulled your head back down, capturing your lips in a kiss. After a moment, he pulled away and caressed your cheek. “Ich liebe dich, Engel.” [I love you, Angel.] He said quietly, which was another rare occasion with Kaiser where he actually used his words to express his feelings. “And I love you.” You smiled, hovering your lips over his, “Are you okay?” “Ah, meine Liebe. I’m alright, just… tired from playing.” He said as he reached up to move a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His bright blue eyes were scanning your face, watching every expression and detail. “I’m glad you’re here...” He ran his thumb over your cheek, “I can always count on you.” He sat up and pulled you on top of him, his hands moving to rest on your hips as you straddled him.

“Michael!” You gasped as you felt his semi-hard poking the inside of your thigh. “I thought you said you were tired?” “I said tired from playing, mein Liebling. Not in other activities.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Ah, now you understand why he’s being so lovey dovey… he’s horny! He chuckled in his rough German accent as his hands began to roam your body. “I missed you these last few weeks.” “Ja, I can see that… or I mean, feel it.” You snickered. “Ah, mein Engel. Du bist so wunderschön.” [My Angel. You are so beautiful.] He praised you as he gave your jawline soft kisses. He grunted a little when he felt your lower half grind against him, causing him to squeeze the plush fat of your ass under your denim skirt. He wanted to be gentle, but that’s proving to be quite difficult for him right now. He needed you. “Mein Engel, bitte. Lass mich dich lieben.” [My Angel, please. Let me love you.] He pleaded quietly as his hands continued to roam your body, slowly lifting his jersey off of you. “Ich will dich.” [I want you.] You let the jersey fall to the ground, tilting your head to the side as he kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making you throb at your core.

Kaiser turned, laying you down on the sofa and positioning himself in between your legs. “Ich liebe dich.” [I love you.] He murmured as his lips began to trail down your neck, down your chest. He took one breast in his mouth, and sucked on your hardened nub. You let out a whimper, arching into him, practically smooshing your chest in his face. His tattooed hand journeyed down your body. “So Schön.” [So beautiful.] He hissed, pushing your legs open wider for him to have more room. He wasted no time in bunching your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side, dragging a finger up your slit, collecting your slick. His finger began tracing circles around your entrance before slowly pushing it inside you. “Ah, du bist so feucht für mich…” [You are so wet for me…] “Hnngh!” You moaned, nails digging into the sofa. “Komm für mich. Be the good girl I know you are.” [Come for me.] He murmured against your skin, lightly nipping you in random places. He inserted another finger in you, pumping at a slow, but good, pace and curling them both slightly to rub that sweet spot that always had you seeing stars. “M-Micha!” You whined, writhing beneath him. “Let yourself go on my fingers…” He said, his voice low and raspy. And like the good girl you were for him, you did as he said. As always. You shut your eyes as you came on his long, thick fingers; panting and moaning his name. He grabbed your chin during the middle of it with his free hand and forced you to face him. “Look at me.” He demands. Your eyes fluttered open, trying to stop them from rolling back from pure ecstasy. “That’s it. There’s my girl.” He lets you ride out your high, before slowly pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean.

He reached between you to pull the knot on his robe loose, and lets it fall on the floor next to the jersey, then positions himself at your entrance. “Ich brauche dich...” [I need you...] He whispers as he pushes into you, letting out a deep groan and grunting. “Gott, du bist so eng.” [God, you’re so tight.] You let out a louder moan at the stretch, your nails digging even more into the sofa. He slowly slid out almost all the way before thrusting back in deeper. Harder.

“So gut...” [So good...]

Fuck, maybe you two should spend time apart more often.

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list here!

[paverage-blog]

As someone who is relatively new to fanfics, I have to say I don’t really understand some of these interactive processes. To me, a fic is like a home cooked meal. I may taste something and decide it’s not for me or I may go back for thirds — but my ability to consume or enjoy it at all is due to the person who created it. As I would never sit down and eat a meal someone cooked without saying thanks (and gushing about what I loved most), I can’t really fathom reading and just walking away without saying thanks. In all but a very few instances I hit the kudos button because it cost me $0.00. Even if I didn’t think it was the greatest thing I’ve ever read, I’m at least saying “thanks, you did the damn thing and kudos to you for putting it out there.”

It seems like a level of rudeness I can’t fathom to not say how much I enjoyed a story if I did (to the point that I’ve been mulling over a fic I read last night all and it’s bothered me I didn’t leave a comment and only a kudo - I will be fixing that when I log in tonight because even if the fic is “old” or other people already said it, the author deserves to know the story haunted me all day and that I enjoyed it.) You’re privileged enough to enjoy someone’s art (which sometimes is a huge investment of their time and efforts) for free. It feels like the least I can do is acknowledge (again, for free!) that I enjoyed it or that I want to show the author support to keep writing.

As a writer, I admit that I spend a lot of time squinting at hits vs. kudos and trying to extrapolate if people enjoyed. I assume that if my work has hits but not kudos that someone read (or attempted it) and decided they didn’t like it/it wasn’t for them and that it was so bad they didn’t want to even give me a thumbs up for making an effort. I assume this, because I assume other people consume fic like I do. Reading OP’s story really makes me scratch my head… like people may pull up a chair to my table where I’ve spent weeks “cooking up” something, enjoy it, and walk off without even saying thanks…and then go tell other people how great it was? No disrespect to people who don’t kudo/comment on everything they enjoy, but I guess I’m just stunned people wouldn’t even bother to click a button to say thanks if they thought it was a worthwhile effort.

Idk, I gotta go log in and tell someone how much I enjoyed something I read yesterday and keep being an outlier, I guess, lol.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[nativegirltapes]

omg can we talk about tp!mom not being able to pay her bills and when drew is taking care of baby he sees the bills scattered across the dining table and him taking care of it

warnings/notes: reader is stubborn, i didn’t expect this to be as long as it is lol

you told drew you picked up a few extra hours of overtime this week, all in hopes of being able to pay the bills this months, although you left that part out. and of course without a doubt, drew cleared his schedule, booked the first plane, and was on his way; all to take care of baby while you worked. you told him that he didn't have to do all that, that baby could go to your mom's for the weekend, but he absolutely insisted.

after your long eventful shift at the bar, you were finally home. seeing baby was always enough to wash away your worries, after all, you were doing it all for her, and the hours of labor always paid off. you'd work 14 hour days for her if it meant she'd have everything she needed.

"mommy's home!" you heard drew yell as you came through the front door, baby was in drew's arm, a huge grin on her face. "mommy!" she shouted, her little body in a race to get down from drew's arms and run into yours. "how's my baby?" you got down to her level, opening your arms, she immediately ran into them. you gave her a kiss and started unpacking your stuff from work as she sat on your hip.

"busy day?” drew asked while helping you unpack your lunch bag. “yeah, busy and looong.” you replied. “thanks for watching baby.”

after baby was down for bed you did some night cleaning; you realized the bills you left on the table weren’t there anymore. “hey drew!” you yelled, he was laying in your room on your bed, probably napping; taking care of baby all day was fun, but definitely exhausting. “yeah baby. what’s up?” he shot out of bed. “i left some mail on the table before i left, did you see it anywhere?”

“the bills?” he yawned. “i took care of them.” he stretched his arms. he what? “what do you mean you ‘took care of them’” you giggled, really hoping he was joking. “i paid them.”

“what?” you playfully shoved him, but he only pulled you closer. “you better be joking.”

“i took care of them.” he repeated himself again. “i’m serious.” he pulled you close towards his chest, but couldn’t help but pull away. “drew! that was like fifteen hundred dollars in bills!” you yelled. “you can’t just do stuff like that!”

“i’m just trying to help out.” drew’s face flushed with worry when he realized you were actually kind of upset. “i’m sorry.”

after some settling down and a nice warm shower, you sat next to drew on your bed. “i’m sorry.” you whispered, your doe eyes looking over at drew and your hair tied up in a towel. “i really do appreciate your help, but next time can we talk about it?”

drew opened his arm, you nuzzled into his chest. “but if i asked you wouldn’t have let me.” he chuckled. you really had no rebuttal to his point, he was right. you didn’t even like him buying you and baby groceries, so let alone a thousand plus in bills? you were upset. “exactly my point.” you giggled.

“i’ll think about it.”

[mysunshinetemptress]

Insight 4

Smarter universe

A/n: I feel like this one I might edit a bit more so a rerelease might cone idk I don’t really like my writing in this. it’s 1am and I wanted to give you guys another insight as promised. Also thank you to @womenwoso for helping with the logistics of this insight.

Leah hasn’t known what it’s like to not wake up and feel nauseous for the past few days, not since you left, but today it’s worse, today she goes to training and although she hopes you’ll be there in the back of her mind she knows you won’t.

Leah’s slow to get ready, slow to leave and slow to arrive to Sobha Reality training ground, she’s late and her teammates don’t understand why. Leah’s never late, you’re never late.

Leah checks in and trudges her way to the changing room where the rest of the arsenal girls are, slowly Leah pushes the door and walks making a b line for her locker before throwing her bag down and quietly getting ready.

Leah doesn’t miss the way the girls look for you coming in behind her like you usually do, and she definitely doesn’t miss the questioning glances between Steph and Alessia.

“Le where’s Y/n.” Leah shrugs continuing to get ready, her eyes glued to the floor. Steph steps forward “hey mate, where’s Y/n? She didn’t answer the phone to Less or I this morning.” Leah mumbles into her chest “I don’t know.” This only causes more confusion between the pair as Leah continues to put on her training gear.

“What do you mean you don’t know Leah you live together, you’re married to her for godsake” Leah feels her stomach flip “she’s gone-she left.” Alessia steps forward her own stomach dropping, gone, left. Where, why and why didn’t you text them or call it doesn’t make sense. “ She would have said something, why did she leave arsenal.” Leah shakes her head as she feels her emotions start to rise again “not Arsenal, not yet anyway.” Leah pauses tying her shoe “she left me.”

Leah hates that for a slight moment you’re the bad guy and that her friends support her, but it’s all a lie. Steph puts her hand on Leah’s shoulder comforting her “what happened.” Leah shakes her head the tears forming in her eyes as the feeling of getting sick intensifies “I cheated.” She lets out quietly so quietly that Steph is the only one to hear.

Alessia looks confused “what.” As Steph recoils her hand as though she’s just been burned “you did what.” Leah shakes her head “please Steph.” Steph doesn’t take pity on her instead she shouts “you cheated on your wife, on Y/n.”

The rest of the girls all seem to freeze as they turn to look at their Vice captain “you better be taken the piss.” Katie shouts from across the room.” But Leah’s silence is deafening “Leah.” Kim tries but the defender stays silent.

“She won’t answer our texts, our calls, how-is she safe.” Leah doesn’t answer she can’t answer she doesn’t know where you are, she doesn’t know you’re wrapped up in her bed in her childhood home holding on to her jumper as you sob.

“I don’t know….we…she talked and then she left.” Leah lets out, “who was it Leah.” Leah’s head turns to Lia and the knot in her stomach tightens “I-Lia.” Lia already knows, she wish she didn’t but she does “Leah.” Leah shakes her head “I didn’t-please- it-I don’t know it just-we just…please.” Lia feels sick and the room spins slightly at the thought that she had been introduced to HER months ago when Leah and her met up for coffee and SHE came bouncing over.

Steph has her phone out as she tries you again and again Alessia’s frozen “but what about everything-you guys were supposed to be having a family.” They don’t know Leah thinks of course they don’t know she didn’t know “we are.” The room seems to drop like a led balloon.

Leah’s up against a wall next Katie holding her shirt in her fists “please tell me your wife…who wants nothing more than a family with you…who we have all seen cry day in and day out over not being able to have a baby with you isn’t pregnant because if she is so help me god Leah.”

Again Leah’s silence is all it takes to confirm the team’s worst fears. “I don’t know who else to call.” Steph lets out painfully “everyone else is in this room” Leah gulps, your gone, you’re not answering your phone and Steph right everyone you love…you think of as your friends, family are in this room and once again the knot gets bigger.

Katie drops Leah back to her feet “Kim.” Kim looks at the Irish girl “you’re suspended”. Kim turns to Leah as the vice captain tries to protest “I don’t want to see you near this place until I say otherwise.” Leah nods packing up and heading out the door.

“Leah.”

Lia chases after her stopping just at the car park “please tell me that it’s not HER.” Leah shakes her head “I…” Leah’s interrupted by a car honking HER car as SHE pulls up beside the duo “Hey baby ready.” Leah turns and looks to Lia “I-i can explain.” Lia shakes her head “don’t bother, you’ve made your bed and clearly you still enjoy sleeping in it.”

[fgumi]

⋆˙⟡♡ CHALANT

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!jaehyun x reader, GENRE; fluff, uni!au, headcanon, WC; 2.1k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive, A/N; oh to be loved by chalant myung jaehyun. TAGS; @onedoornet @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @prettyange1 @bee-the-loser @pumpkg @lucky-wy @leehanwish}

chalant!myungjae has never been shy about his crush on you. hell, he made it a public affair. anyone and everyone knew about it, including you. you didn’t really know what to think. this good-looking guy was openly proclaiming that he’s interested in you. it sounded like a trap, something that’d hurt you. at first, it was just words. people that knew you both would comment.

“did you know myung jaehyun likes you?” “can you tell your boyfriend to shut up about you?”

he’s not my boyfriend, you’d reply. you started feeling bad for these people at some point. here’s this guy that you knew next to nothing about and he’s talking people’s ears off about how he’s so in love with you. what is he so in love with? he’s never even talked to you. when it was people that you mutually knew, you didn’t think much of it. but then, there were strangers coming up to you.

“uh, are you y/n?” yes. “this dude, jaehyun, is like really into you. he would not stop talking about you at the party.”

so i’ve heard, you’d say. how is this guy telling everyone but you? you started getting annoyed, so annoyed that you finally confronted him. you tried to avoid when he was with his friends, not wanting to embarrass the guy further, but he was always with someone. so, one day, when you spotted him in the library, you decided that enough was enough. you marched right up to his table. what about me are you so in love with? you asked.

if anyone else said that and others overheard, they’d think you were crazy and narcissistic. but, because it was you, no one batted an eye. actually, they all leaned closer, hoping that this was the day jaehyun would finally shut up about you. jaehyun’s face went from shocked to goofy. he had this lopsided grin when he started.

“what’s there not to love? you’re insanely smart—i’ve seen the way you lead discussion sections. you’re really kind—you helped all those freshmen pass genetics even though you were clearly stressed about your stuff. you’re very particular about your drinks, but not in a rude way—i hear you apologizing to baristas about how specific your order is and then you leave a big fat tip. you love the sun. i always catch you sunbathing in the quad around 2pm after class—i swear i’m not stalking you! i just have a class in the quad. you’re funny—the side-eyes you give the people saying the dumbest things make me giggle. you—” you get it.

gosh, if only you could hide further into your hoodie. your face was bright red. all his friends were giving you exasperated looks, as if to say “please go out with him so he’ll finally shut up.” you didn’t realize you ran into him that much. you were constantly stressed, rushing to class, that people were just blurred faces to you. you barely managed to make eye contact with jaehyun and then you saw. he looked at you like you held the answer to all his prayers.

“if i take you on a date, will you stop bothering people about how you’re so in love with me?” you muttered. then, this guy has the gawl to shake his head. “absolutely not. but! i’ll shut up for a day.”

his friends nodded rapidly, begging you with their whole bodies to do it. a day was better than anything, they supposed. so, you asked him out. jaehyun’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

chalant!myungjae stayed true to his word and never shut up about you after that one (blissful) day. just like before, he talked about you with anyone that’d give him the time, even your professors. because you were in the same major, you and jaehyun had the same classes, just not the same section (much to jaehyun’s dismay). so, he’d hang back a few until you arrived so he could give you his notes.

“it’s a preview! so you don’t have to rush to catch everything.”

in those few minutes that you take to arrive, jaehyun’s talking to your professor.

“you should totally make my girlfriend, y/n, your ta! she’s always the top scorer and is helping out other people anyways!” “this is us on our second date. look at how pretty she is! i think she’s the love of my life.” “do you think you could transfer me into this section so i could be with her?” no, they’d say exhaustedly.

if your professors were at all bitter, they would’ve hated you. having to hear about you so much was tiring. but, they all appreciated love when they saw it—or, in this case, heard it. though they didn’t let it show too much, they did tend to favor you after hearing how much you enjoyed the class and helped others. you were certainly helping their ratemyprofessor scores.

chalant!myungjae was a confident person. but, he was never more confident than the times he could acceptably brag that he was your boyfriend.

you took part in dancing as an extracurricular, something that helped college be a little more bearable. because of this, you had performances and recitals. these were college events that jaehyun could finally look forward to.

he always came early just so he could grab a front seat. he was always the loudest, cheering you on whenever you were on stage. when he felt like he wasn’t loud enough, he forced his friends to come along. at one point, he made t-shirts for all of them to wear. we’re here with y/n’s boyfriend. of course, he wore his own shirt. y/n’s boyfriend on the back and the cutest (you didn’t find it all that cute) picture he had of you adorning the front. he was very very proud to be your boyfriend. and, of course, he needed to get you the world’s biggest bouquet every time. you told him that he didn’t need to get you such expensive flowers every time, but he shook his head.

“these aren’t expensive compared to what i really wanted to get you.”

later, you found out that he wanted to get you a thousand lilies of the valleys, your favorite. every time. you scolded him about it, saying how you were broke college students and couldn’t afford things like that.

to that, he said, “yet.”

chalant!myungjae didn’t care for possessing things, you included (because women aren’t possessions, he said), but, man, did he love being possessed by you. anything he could get to let people know he was yours, he’d have. his lockscreen? you. his desktop picture? you. he even had one of those photocard holders attached to his backpack with a polaroid of you. he had half the mind to get the big photocard holders, but he didn’t think you’d like that (you told him that was embarrassing). it didn’t stop at just pictures, though. he even bought himself a necklace with your last name attached. you asked him why he didn’t get your first name or even a necklace for you with his name.

“i want to take your last name! and i didn’t want to buy you something like that without your explicit permission.”

you just sighed adoringly. shouldn’t he have asked your permission for his necklace then?

chalant!myungjae wasn’t just all for show. he also did things that were less noticeable—like having a hair tie around his wrist at all times. you always managed to lose yours and were put out whenever you couldn’t put your hair up. when he saw your cute little pout, he vowed to always make sure you had a hair tie available to you whenever you were together (even if he loved your pout).

another thing he did was carry around a second hoodie—for himself, of course. sure, it made his backpack bulky, but you were worth it. there were days that you’d think the weather was going to be a mild temperature or the buildings weren’t going to blast the ac, so you’d opt out of bringing a sweater. but, when you sadly realized that it was freezing, he’d hand you his hoodie—the one that he was already wearing. you mentioned in passing how much you liked wearing his clothes, but only when they smelled like him, so he always gave you whatever he was wearing at the time and put the second hoodie on (that way you couldn’t say no with the reason that he’d be cold).

chalant!myungjae was always respectful towards women. his mother raised him right after all. there were times though when he wasn’t. like, when he’s getting hit on. you never said anything, never showed an ounce of insecurity. but, he made it his mission to get these girls away from him.

on your late-night outings, both of you dressed up. you looked good. you were bound to attract attention. but, one thing you told jaehyun from the start was that you wouldn’t subject your friends to feeling like they were with a couple when you went out. so, he let you do your thing while he did his. you guys always danced in the club near each other. that’s why you were privy to seeing him turn people away. in an odd fashion.

there were times he’d bark at them. there were times he’d act like he batted for the other team. there were times he’d point at you and show them that he was a taken man. but, the one time this girl didn’t catch the hints—the necklace, the photocard, his lockscreen, his blatant denial—everyone was in for a show.

“your girlfriend doesn’t have to know,” the girl purred, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. you see this happening out of the corner of your eye. you just said a silent prayer for her because you knew jaehyun was about to embarrass her. what you didn’t know was how.

he scoffed. “i tell her everything, even my poop schedule. she’ll know.”

the girl didn’t back off. “well, i don’t see her. she left you here all alone with me. can’t i just have you for the night?”

she’s persistent, you’ll give her that. that’s when you feel someone pull you away from your friends. you’re spun around and a kiss was planted on your lips. your eyes widened before you realized it was jaehyun. you let yourself enjoy the kiss, thinking it was going to be short. but it wasn’t. it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses jaehyun has ever given you. if you were sobering up, jaehyun’s kiss pulled you right back into a haze. he cradled your neck, kissing you deeper, as his other hand pulled you closer. even when the girl finally got the hint and left, he didn’t let you go. if anything, he seemed to take it as his cue to continue. when you heard your friends cheering you on, you let this be the exception to your one rule. when you finally pulled away for air, a string of saliva followed you. you just blinked at him while he had this goofy grin on his face.

“sorry, i had to show her who my girlfriend was.”

safe to say, he didn’t let you go for the rest of the night and you didn’t mind one bit.

chalant!myungjae didn’t really post on his social media. sure, he was active on it, liking his friends’ posts and yours (obviously). he became really active on it once you started dating. jaehyun skipped the soft launch and went straight into the hard launch. every story he posted, his friends could bet that it was going to be you with some corny caption about how much he loved you or how lucky he was. when he did post, they’d just be photo dumps from moments with you. at this point, his account became a y/n fan account. if anyone were to stalk him, trying to see if he was taken or not, they’d know immediately. in his bio, he had your user. his pinned post was your first anniversary date, where you looked absolutely stunning. his profile picture? it was the two of you.

oh, and was he in your comments.

first! i would’ve built rome in a day for you had to pick my jaw off the ground i won’t you. bad. i’m framing this something’s wet and i move my phone to my left hand…

ya... he was getting creative with his comments.

chalant!myungjae makes sure that you know, and the world knows, how much he loves you. he’ll never let a single doubt enter your mind about how he feels about you. you are his girl and he is very much your boy.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[manic-quinn]

i once had to break up with someone while we were still in love. i was going through a rough patch and they needed more than i had to give. right person, wrong time

they tried to get back together with me on 3 separate occasions in the following month

the first time they sent me this long text about how

“we could work together so that it’s different this time. you didn’t let me help you with your issues and i never communicated mine. i just can’t shake the feeling that we made a mistake”

i missed them dearly and i almost went back…but they hadn’t changed and neither had i. as much as i wanted to pretend we could work on it, i knew that it would just be a matter of time before we broke up again. breaking their heart once almost killed me and i simply couldn’t risk doing it again. so i wrote a heartfelt paragraph to say

“i wish you the best and i want to make you happy, but it’s only been a week and nothings changed. im sorry but no”

it hurt, but it was necessary. i hope they understood where i was coming from. then a few days later, they texted me again and said

“we had something special” (and we did) “i take all the blame. you were always enough, all i need is you”

again, i thought about it for a moment…but the truth is that if they didn’t have needs then we wouldn’t have broken up. i knew i was just as much to blame as them. they just wanted the grief to go away and would say anything to make it happen. if we got back together, id let them down again so i wrote a few short sweet sentences telling them that

“you have a lot to offer and you’ll find someone else. ill always be rooting for you. im sorry, but no”

the third time they insisted on calling. i told them I wouldn’t change my mind, but they insisted things would be better if we could talk over the phone. for 45 minutes, they repeated everything they ever said. trying to find anything that would change my mind.

“ive never felt like this before”

i tried to be gentle with them but there are only so many ways you can say

“im sorry but no”

eventually they ran out of words. they apologized and said they’d leave me alone, but ill never forget what they said before we hung up

“i wish i could’ve written this off like you did”

they thought that I had just moved on and what we had meant nothing to me i didn’t know how to explain that every time i said

“im sorry, but no”

what i really meant was

“i love you enough to let you go”

[burrowdarling]

Your Surprise Tattoo

Summary: You make the decision to get a tattoo and surprise Joe with it.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Some steamy talk post-tattoo

Note: Heyo! A totally random idea I had that I figured could be fun to write. I haven't done a headcanon in a bit and thought this idea would be a good fit. Enjoy!

Word Count: 935

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You’d had this idea in mind for a while, something you always floated back and forth between since you were in your teens 

You’ve always taken a liking to tattoos but were unsure of exactly what you wanted to get and the right placement

Your parents always said that you had to wait until you were old enough and out of their house to do so if you ever wanted one

Over time, once you moved out, you ended up getting a few small ones scattered about your body

None too large or conspicuous 

Joe had always found the idea of tattoos cool, knowing that a majority of his teammates had them

When you first got together, he made a game out of finding the few you did have

When you told him you wanted to get another one, he didn’t mind too much

If anything it sent him down a rabbit hole of the possibilities of you with different tattoos, the placements, filling his mind with images of you

The thought did loom in his mind of what you wanted to get and where it would be, the anticipation and curiosity getting to him

You assured him it would be something hidden a majority of the time, calming a bit of his nerves to not send him into total shock when you did get it

He also secretly liked the idea of it being something that only he could see

That sent his mind reeling at the thought of you with tattoos

What would you get?

Would you want more than one?

Where were you gonna put it?

When? 

You also never told him when you were getting it, keeping to the idea of a surprise

You planned it during a time he was out of town, giving the piece some time to heal up and not be covered so he could see everything 

It was a totally ballsy move, but you figured go big or go home, and would truly test your pain tolerance

Yeah, it could be totally stupid to get something in such a sensitive area, but you really did like the way they looked

You connected with your local artist chosen and set a date, excited for what was to come

You went for a bit of a cliche back tattoo, some flowers with a butterfly that you felt would look really pretty

You knew it was basic, but it’s what made you happy so who cares

It came out exactly as you hoped it would, you were totally in love with it and had a feeling Joe would be too

It was a few days later when he arrived home, none the wiser to your newest addition to your skin

He’d come back from the facility sweaty and in need of a shower

You figured this was as good of a time as any to finally show him 

“You care if I hop in there with you?” you asked, not that this was ever anything new for you

“If I ever tell you no to an opportunity to see you naked, then you have full permission to fight me,” Joe said with a laugh

You ended up in your shared bathroom, you gathering the towels and Joe going to start the water

Here goes nothing you thought to yourself

You set the towels down on the counter and with Joe behind you, you slipped your shirt over your head

You heard a deep groan behind you quickly followed by hands wrapping around your waist

“When’d you get that done, hmm?” Joe asked, his voice heavy with curiosity and lust

“Wellll you did say that you wanted me to surprise you with it so I figured you being gone was the best time. Now I was able to show it to you when it was closer to fully healed”

Joe just groaned out another response

His mind was racing and blank all at the same time, nonverbals were his safest response

“What do you think, do you like it?” you asked, attempting to turn towards him but he held your hips firmly in place

“That’s not even a question, sweetheart”

And MY GOD did he like it

There weren’t words he could find at that moment to describe exactly how he felt about the new ink that went down your spine

His mind was too far gone elsewhere to come up with a coherent enough response to truly tell you how much he loved it

His fingers traced the edge of your tattoo trailing down your back, giving you chills down your spine at his tender touch

“Did it hurt?” he asked, feeling like he knew the obvious answer to the question

“Of course like a bitch, but I have it now and I love it” you spoke honestly, feeling your voice waiver the more he touched your skin

The room began to heat up from the steam of the hot water running behind you, forgotten about from the sight in front of him

“The shower can wait, I’m taking you right here right now”

He started to bend you over the counter, your chest pressing into the cold material while his warm hands traced delicate lines over the art on your back

You could feel his hard on through the flimsy fabric of his gym shorts making your breathing hitch

“Joe we could also do it in the shower, two birds one stone type of thing,” you said with a light laugh

“Who said there can’t be a round two?”

Joe had gotten a new appreciation for tattoos that day

[itsnesss]

hello! could you write a hwang junho x reader where he finds out that they were asked to join the games? like he discovers the card and freaks out over it? 🫡

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | fluff, emotional content, themes of concern and vulnerability, soft romantic moments, mentions of risk and danger

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the television is a distant murmur as you get lost in your thoughts. The card weighs on you, but something inside you urges you to ignore the warnings. The desire to change, to escape the monotony of your life, is stronger than any doubt. The opportunity is there, within your reach, and you know you could take it. But what if something goes wrong? The doubt consumes you.

Suddenly, you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. You know it’s him, Jun-ho.

You wonder what he's doing around here, but you don't have time to think too much about it. You’ve barely noticed him until now, but there's something strange about his presence in the last few days. He watches you constantly, as if he's waiting for something to happen.

You hear his footsteps approaching, and when he enters the room, his gaze goes directly to the coffee table where, unknowingly, the card has been left visible. The tension in the air is palpable. You don’t dare move it; you don’t want him to ask, but he does.

"What is this?" he says, his voice so low you can barely hear it. His eyes fix on the card, but his hands stay at his sides, as if he’s avoiding touching it.

"Where did you get this from? Who gave it to you?" His voice hardens, but there's also a kind of desperation you hadn’t noticed before.

Your heart skips a beat. You know you’ve left it in plain sight by mistake, but you didn’t expect him to react like this. Something’s not right, and his gaze makes that clear. The way his jaw tightens and the worry in his eyes makes you hesitate for a moment. You question if you really know what you’re about to do.

"You don’t have to worry about it," you respond, trying to downplay it, but your voice trembles. You don’t even believe yourself. You’re trying to act strong, but you know deep down that something feels vulnerable.

"Yes, yes, I have to worry," he responds firmly, stepping a little closer. The anxiety in his expression is palpable, as if he’s about to explode. "This is not a game. You don’t know what’s behind that card. You’re getting into something you can’t control."

You, however, can’t let him influence you. There’s something inside you telling you that this is your chance, that you can’t let it slip away so easily. Life has been dragging you through the same routine, and this could be the change you’ve been needing. Why not try it? If you could escape all this, maybe you could finally feel free, maybe you could be something else, something different.

"I don’t understand why you care so much," you say with a forced smile, trying to brush off the situation. You don’t want him to see how affected you are by his gaze, by his concern. You need to have control, at least a little. "I’m not a child, I can take care of myself."

The silence between the two of you grows dense. He looks at you as if he’s trying to read what’s going on in your mind, but finally, he steps toward you and, with a deep sigh, takes your hands in his. His fingers, warm and firm, make you feel a small knot in your stomach. It’s strange how such a simple physical touch can make your thoughts dissolve, how suddenly you feel so vulnerable.

"I’m just asking for myself," he says softly, his voice much gentler now, but full of an emotion you can’t quite identify. His expression is laden with sincerity, something you’ve never seen from him before. "Don’t do it. Promise me. I don’t want you to go into that, I don’t want to lose you."

His eyes lock with yours, and in that moment, you feel something change in the air. It’s as if, for an instant, the rest of the world disappears, and it’s just you and him, in that small bubble of silence. His plea resonates in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if you’re making the right decision. His concern is palpable, and for a moment, you question if maybe he knows something you don’t understand yet. It’s so hard to comprehend why he cares so much, why now it seems like the only right option is to follow his advice.

And the worst part is that, for the first time, you doubt your own desires.

"If you need money, I’ll help you," he adds with an unexpected softness, as if he’s willing to do anything to keep you from making that decision. As if it’s not just an attempt to stop you from entering the game, but a genuine desire to protect you, to offer you something better than that risk. "Just promise me. Please."

He says it with such tenderness that you almost crumble. His words, so sincere, pierce you like a knife, and for a moment, you forget about the card, the game, everything that had drawn you to that decision. It’s just him, his gaze, and that glimmer of hope that seems to want to reach you.

It’s strange how, in that instant, everything that had been noise and chaos in your head becomes quiet. You feel the weight of his plea in the air, the vulnerability of his confession, as if he’s offering you his trust without reservation. Why does he care so much about what you think? Why is he so desperate to save you?

You remain silent for a moment, looking into his eyes. You feel the weight of the card in your pocket, but now, in his presence, it doesn’t seem as tempting as it did before. The game, the opportunity, all seem insignificant compared to what you’re feeling now, as you look at him. It’s not just that he’s asking you to stay away from danger; it’s as if, in some way, he’s asking you to believe in him, to believe in something beyond what you want. And the worst part is that it’s becoming hard not to believe.

Without thinking, you step a little closer to him, almost as if it were a reflex, and before you can process it, he kisses you. It’s a soft kiss, full of an unexpected tenderness, as if he’s putting all his hope into that gesture, as if he’s asking you to understand him without words. The kiss is short, but it speaks volumes, and when he pulls away, your hearts beat together, intertwined in a connection you didn’t expect, but somehow, you understand. He’s reached you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

"Promise me," he says softly, as if he already knows he’s gotten to your heart, as if he’s already gotten what he wanted.

You remain silent for a moment, struggling with your own thoughts. The card is still there, close to you, but now, in his presence, you can’t ignore what really matters. His concern, his sweetness, his sincerity... all of that makes you question what you once desired with such fervor.

Finally, you take a deep breath, as if letting go of everything you’ve been holding inside. You look Jun-ho in the eyes, and with a sigh, you feel the weight on your chest lighten.

"I promise," you respond finally, your voice barely audible, but full of certainty. And for the first time in a long time, you feel that the most important decision you’ve made is the right one.

[kwaggysshardmindemporium]

There were a few things this time five years ago when I was still working at Walgreens that you couldn't just grab and carry around. IIRC the security shelving was on the expensive ass shaving razor cartridges and baby formula. (We were a really low theft store; literally every other store I went to help out at had cough syrup also behind a lock and key at minimum.) We were just starting to install those security shelves on other shit as I was getting a new job.

And like, the theft we had was never on the stuff they were putting locks on. It was basically always just food. Some kid comes in a steals a candy bar tier stuff, not even like people are shoplifting because they're starving. The other thing that was super high theft? The knee/arm/leg etc. brace products. Oh and makeup which like obviously it's massively overpriced and tiny. Our item counts on the stuff that's all locked up now were basically always accurate or off by maybe like one.

(This turned into a bit of a ramble story so I'm adding a cut.)

That's not to say we didn't have any theft problems though. Notably we had this group of three dudes who seemed to think they were criminal masterminds. They'd come in, start shopping around. One of them would go over to the fridge, then find me or whatever other manager was on duty and ask them to check in the walk in freezer if we had more of something out of stock. The other two would grab up whatever they thought they could pocket that would resell to whoever the fuck was buying their shit. It was not subtle, but they were aware that the rules about customer service would prevent us from doing shit to *prevent* this and also about half of management self included did not really give a fuck. (Personally, I appreciated that there was at least an *attempt* at craft and that they were always pretty polite and if something tripped them up they wouldn't get aggressive or anything. As far as thieves go, pretty alright bunch for the most part.)

Then one night they tried to like, run a Payday mission on our ATM? I was off duty that night so I only heard about this later, but apparently they decided to try for a big score. They did the same play, but instead of pocketing stuff they tried to drill into thr ATM to get the cash box out. This uuuuuuh... did not work. They had no idea what they were doing, and the ATM was literally adjacent to the front register, so upon the cashier returning from whatever thing they were asking them to look for they were immediately caught. And then upper management formally filed for a restraining order so these dudes weren't allowed in ever again.

And to be clear, while I say store management didn't care about this, the actual boss of our store HATED these dudes. Wanted them gone. Had been asking corporate what she could do about this for literal years. I started working at this place in 2016, under this very boss. She had already been trying to do something about this for some time from the moment we met. Overall, this store probably lost thousands in cost (not potential profit, cost) from these guys doing this. Corporate didn't even pretend to care. But the second they try to grab a couple thousand from the other corporation paying them to keep an ATM in the front? As nuclear an option as they have without sending these days to straight up jail.

>go to cvs for toothpaste and cold medicine

>hit button for employee to open the toothpaste case

>grabs it before i can

>"i have to hold this at the front for you until you check out"

>go to cold medicine aisle

>ring bell for employee to open the cough medicine case

>nobody shows up

>ring again

>nobody shows up

>check case

>case is unlocked

>take cold medicine and go to check out

>grab toothpaste from unmanned register

>have to use self checkout

>scan cold medicine

>"age verification needed please wait for employee"

>employee comes over and cards me and then leaves

>finish self checkout

>walk through literal piles of discarded receipts at exit door

another beautiful non hostile day in our great country

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.  

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ‘how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III will follow shortly, it'll be four parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung�� ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[ziminy]

I'll follow you until you love me

Having actor Gojo as your fan isn't for the weak

Tags: smut, mdni, f!actress reader, actor!Gojo, dark themed, stalking, obsession, jealousy, fan boy Gojo, mind games, lots of lies, manipulation, panties stealing, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), drunk s(e)x, dubious content, people are shipping you and Gojo, fear play, just me going over the top again,

Author's note: thank you for 100 flowers 🤗 I been working on this fic for a while and was waiting for a specific occasion to post it.

Masterlist

The first time Gojo Satoru heard about you was a long time ago. He doesn't really remembers the details but he knows he was so done with hearing about you left and right.

Everybody was praising this new actor who appeared out of a blue, and it was getting on his nerves.

Nothing was known about you, you had no connections to the inside world, your name wasn't affiliated with any big names. It was like you were put on the big screen out of nowhere and lend a big role like the director was forced to.

And his feelings only got bitter the moment he met you in person. Walking into his set one day and greeting everyone left and right, remembering names of some crew members he didn't knew they even existed to begin with.

But the cherry on top was when the director, that was known for being a bit too eccentric, presented you with the biggest smile on. Praising you and talking about how the day is so much better with you there. And you, instead of trying to show off, being humble.

He didn't like it. The way you looked so sweet, how you would laugh at the poorly made jokes and how you left just as soon as you appeared, giving him no chance to actually learn something about you. But he does remember how you promised to buy everybody a drink next time you pass by and how you look forward to his movie.

Another one of his fans? Huh? He thought, being disappointed that you'd be much more easier than he hoped.

But he only ended up being disappointed once again, because a week later you appeared on his set one more time. This time with drinks just as you promised, and the biggest smile on your face talking about the role you're auditioning for and how the set is closer to his. Well, you weren't talking to him directly, but the director. But since you were on his movie set you were practically sets neighbors.

Full of himself, he went to you, expecting you to be excited and faint just from seeing him, since you said you were a fan. But instead you looked at him the way you looked at everybody else, the same business smile on that was basically your free pass card in life. Refusing his invitation to drink with him tonight, talking about keeping it professional and how you don't dare to accept since you respect him too much. Fearing that you might do something that would embarrass yourself in front of him.

It was a lie, he quickly noticed the way your face change as you left with your assistant. A blank expression on your face, that smile disappearing, not having to put an act on as you thought no one saw you. But he did, and it got him thinking, spending the next few days searching and looking at any media form that haves your name on it.

Were you actually pretending? Was everybody's sweetheart actually a liar? Did he actually found dirt on you? What is he going to do with this information? Surely you don't want everybody to know about about it, right?

But when he thought he had you, a scandal with your name all over it was the only thing everybody was talking about. How your company was mistreating you and how you finally managed to break ties with them. And it didn't helped that everybody on his set was whining about you not asking for help, and how they noticed your sudden demeanor but didn't said a thing.

Now you had people fighting over you to join entertainment companies. Biggest names arguing about which one was better for you, you even had his company begging you to join them. And now he was stuck with hearing your name once again.

It didn't stopped any time soon, because somehow, miraculously, you decided to sign a contract with his company.

It was like you decided to torture him, play with his mind and lead him on even if you clearly set some boundaries between the two of you. Were you playing hard to get? Because after all those nights awake he learned that you didn't get involved with anyone in the industry. You refused executives after executives, big actors and renowned directors. You would rather get banned from the industry than being known for giving any kind of services or being known as someone's partner.

He didn't knew if he was supposed to be proud or get mad at how stupid you were acting.

But it got him even more invested. And now you had him watching every single thing you appeared in. It could be a small role, you could just appear in the background for a second and he'll memorize the entire movie.

Soon he got bored of that, and he moved into interviews, appearances or just people speculations, the nda you sign or make people sign. He still remembers about that time you got a nobody as your partner and kept him around for a few months. Even so, it didn't changed a thing about his interest in you.

His room was filled with you, pictures, posters, stuff from movies you acted in. His whole house was like this in fact. His closet filled with stuff you wore, you could even find the same products you use in his bathroom.

And the less attention you pay him, the more obsessed he became. Spraying his bed with your perfume every time you went on a date with your little nobodies, sometimes even asking people from your sets about you, not daring to get to close to you so you won't acknowledge him, even if he's dying to get your attention.

Imagine his surprise when you first acted in the same thing. Well, not really because he auditioned for the same movie as you, trying for a role that had it's screentime at the same time as yours. But he didn't really expect to get it. Oh who is he lying to? He called the director and demanded to play by your side, talking about how he wants to try new things and putting a act on so nobody would rat him out.

Just as soon as the roles were revealed to the public, he even hired a few people to post about the two of you online. But he did got hit by surprise from the amount of people that actually shipped you two. It got him giggling and kicking his feet, staying up and reading comments about how you looked together.

And you seemed to feed into fans delusions, interacting with him more and putting on a more friendly facade, like you were actually friends behind close doors.

Even if it was fake, he liked it. The attention you gave him, the way you finally look at him right in the eyes with more than just your business smile. How you sit close to him at interviews, your legs almost touching. And how you would joke with him when people were looking, actually trying to get to know him.

The promotions ended sooner than he'd like, and now he was alone once again.

He should have let go of you, it been already two years since you two acted together, and he did in fact almost forgot about you. His house was finally you free, not a single thing that represented you in any way in sight. And he been clean for the past few months, finally going in public and acting like old him.

That was until a movie director contacted him, wanting him to be one of the main characters in this action movie he's making. And his costar? You. You would play his love interest. He can't really remember what he said after that, but he did ended up with the role, now reading the script with great attention, trying to picture how your scenes would be.

The romance scenes weren't enough, the fans would want to see more, he said while talking to the director, convincing him to add more. And that's how you ended up with some really unnecessary spicy scenes. Making out in the bathroom, somehow fucking each other on his bed, lots of kisses and the sexual tension should be felt the entire movie.

"Director, can I talk to you?" you said when you visit the set for the first time.

"Did something happen?" the older man looked at your concerned face.

"I received the new script." you said, holding the papers in your hands. "Are all the new scenes really necessary? It's supposed to be about fighting for justice, not a romance movie." well, you were right. But the white haired man happened to pay for the movie's budget out his own pocket.

"It would reach to a larger audience." but were the sex scenes really necessary? You looked at Gojo, trying to communicate telepathically with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine." the director said, ending the discussion there.

This wasn't just about you, it was also about your coworker and about how he feels. You had to pull him to the side and talk to him, you didn't want any hard feelings or to end up with a twisted relationship because of a stupid movie. "You sure you're alright with the new scenes?" you asked, looking at the tall man as he seemed to hold back something.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" he tried not to smile, happy at the way you seemed concerned about him and his well being.

"The change was out of nowhere and too drastic. I could talk to the director if you feel uncomfortable." you're so cute, he wanted to eat you whole.

"What about you. How do you feel about it?" he knew he went overboard, he blacked out when he made those changes after all. But he personally can't say that he regrets anything.

"It's just acting. Sure, I'm a little unhappy at the changes, but I'm alright with it if you are." god, he was dying to kiss you. He wanted to get to the parts where he could be closer to you, feel your skin against his and have a taste of your lips.

There were a few more weeks of filming until he got to the parts he wanted, and he was waiting patiently. Because he knew that once it started he'll get more than enough of you.

"That's all for today." the director said, finally announcing that it was the end of today's work.

"How about some drinks?" Gojo looked at you talking to your assistant before he looked at the director. "My treat." how could anybody refuse free drinks, especially ones that were payed by the white haired man.

You initially tried to refuse, looking at your assistant for a confirmation before you accepted. And that's how you ended in a bar with almost everybody on the set.

You let yourself to get losen for once, forgetting about the image you carefully builded and drank. You had your assistant there in case of anything, which you trusted a bit too much. But even so, you're just happy that you could drink, enjoy the company of others and feeling like you're just another person in there not just a big name actress.

And perhaps you enjoyed yourself a bit too much. Because people started leaving and you didn't felt like doing the same just yet.

It was just you, your costar, the director and your assistants in there in the end, it wasn't that bad.

"I'll call the car for us." your assistant let you know as they stepped outside for a moment.

"Our car is here." the director's assistant said, making the old man get up and leave. Now it was just you, your costar and his assistant that was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm kinda glad I'm doing this with you." you said, barely able to keep your eyes open. "I hear people talking about you all the time, and they all say how good you are." he stared at you with an expressionless face, still trying to think of what he should do next.

"Why don't we go outside for a moment? Take some fresh air." he wasn't prepared for a love confession just yet.

"Alright." you grabbed his arm, letting your body lean into his. He was sweating, his heart was beating so fast that he doesn't know what to do.

"T-then." he gulped, walking with you towards the back door of the bar. Good thing he reserved the whole place, because he doesn't know what he would have done if anyone saw you in that situation.

He placed you against the wall, sitting back next to you and letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

"Your hands are so big." you said, taking his hand in yours and comparing sizes. He was quiet, he just stared at you, his mind in a million places as he tried to figure out if this was some kind of hint or it was all in his head. "You're big in general." you looked up at him, blinking a few times and making him look away, a hand over his face as he tried to control his facial expression.

"It's nothing." he almost bite his tongue.

"I was a bit scared at first, but I'm glad we're in this together." seriously, are you trying to provoke him? "Let's work together in the future as well." if you weren't leading him on then he doesn't know what this is.

The way you look at him, and how you smile. It wasn't your work smile, you were genuinely smiling at him, heck, even your eyes were smiling. If this wasn't you telling him how much you want him then he really went crazy.

He lowered his head, taking another look at your face before he kissed you. At first it was something simple, just his lips touching yours for a second before he backed away. But the way you looked at him made him get closer. Those eyes of yours, having something that looked like sparkles in them. A fire that never seems to calm down, the heat that made him fall for you in the first place. Who can blame him that he kissed you again? Trapping your body against the wall, making you to wrap your hands around him, welcoming him in your warmth even more.

He let out a moan, looking at you with something lustful in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He looked dangerous, like he finally let go of that prince charming facade, showing you what he actually is.

You looked surprised, like you actually never expected him to act like that. Did you really thought that he's usually that sweet? How cute. He could play with you for a little longer, show you what he's actually capable of.

He bite your lip, looking straight into your soul as his kisses traveled to your neck. He sucked on your skin, placing a soft kiss on it before he sinked his teeth into it, making you to let out a gasp. He needed to leave his mark on you, because who knows when else he could.

He couldn't stay away from your lips for long, and now he's back on devouring you, filling the back alley with the sounds you make. "Come home with me." he tried to say, not wanting to get away from you.

You didn't respond, not because you didn't heard him, because trust me when I say you heard him loud and clear. It was more about what will happen after that, and your moral code. You'd rather die than get involved with anyone in the industry, and yet look at you still refusing to let go of him.

"Y/N, you're here?" you could hear somebody on the other side of the door. It was your assistant, probably looking for you to go home.

"Let go." you quietly moaned into his mouth. The door open, making you to push him away, looking at your assistant who had no clue of what's going on. "Is the car ready?" you felt like you sobber up, it's like you didn't touched a single drop of alcohol.

"It just arrived." your assistant looked at the actor next to you and then at you, not knowing if they should walk away or take you to your car.

"Alright." you left him in that alley, not even looking back at him for a single moment.

He had that look again, he's about to do something you'd both regret, or more like you won't like it. Because if he's shameless enough to do it, do you think he'd actually feel a little bit of remorse?

The next day you woke up with hundreds of text and missed calls, and your head killing you. And when you looked at your phone all you could see is people sending you the same article.

Two big stars making out in the back of a bar. Is this the start of a romance story?

Huh? What are these people talking about? Curious, and having no idea why people were sending it to you, you clicked on it. And you were welcomed with your name all over it, alongside Gojo's.

All you can do is cry. How drunk were you last night? You have to apologize to your costar. How could you have been so stupid? You can't believe yourself for doing such a mistake.

"Do not believe everything you see" you posted something on your social media. Trying to calm down the crowd somehow. You have to talk to your team about this since you have absolutely no idea how to handle it. For the moment it it was better to deny it then resolve this issues with Gojo's team.

Speaking of the wolf, you haven't checked on his social media yet.

You went on his profile, and instead of trying to take control over the situation he was putting more wood on the fire.

"Since everybody knows we don't have to hide anymore" you looked at his post in disbelief.

"???" you comment. Looking at your screen in disbelief at the way he was liking comments about how the two of you looked good together.

"Hi :)" he replied to your comment, making you even more confused. Was this a strategy for the movie? I mean, it wasn't a bad idea since you are his character's love interest.

Perhaps this was all an elaborate scheme that you weren't aware of just yet. That thought made you calm down. The internet was doing otherwise.

There were people who were genuinely happy about this, talking about how they knew it. Hell, you got other stars talking about how they always seen your interactions and they knew something more was going on. The fact that you didn't seen a single hate comment made you put questions, but who knows. You might see them sooner or later.

From that moment on, you didn't had a single peaceful time on set. Now you have people acting like your a married couple when nothing was going on between you and Satoru. But he seemed fine, in fact, he looked happy with the way people are treating you now.

He left his mark on you and you didn't even knew it. It was fine, even if you didn't looked at him as a potential partner, yet. It was alright. There was more than enough time. There's no rush, especially when he knows how to get rid of competition. Just like he got rid of your assistant for interrupting you at the bar, he can get rid of everybody that dares to get in his business.

"You're free later?" he came to you when you were on set, making people start whispering between themselves and giggle.

"Not really." you looked tired, if he knew you'd end up like this without an assistant he would have got you another one first.

"If you ever need my help let me know, I'll help you with anything." he means it, even if he looks like he doesn't. He will walk through fire if you tell him to.

"I'm just looking for a new assistant, don't worry." people were speculating that the assistant was the one who leaked about your so called relationship, but it was far from the truth. But the fact that they refuses to talk to you was confusing, even if it was your assistant who did that, why would they suddenly quit and go no contact? And what was more confusing was the fact that the only text from them was a screenshot of what you posted. Don't believe everything you see. What does that means? Was somebody bullying them? Then why wouldn't they tell you?

Now you couldn't help but be hesitant about chosing a new assistant. What if they end up having the same fate? Some people can be really mean and you don't want anyone to suffer because of you.

So, for the next few days you refused to even talk about your current situation. Only having your manager by your side and not trusting anyone that got too close near you.

He haves a limit, you should know that. How much longer he should wait for you to finally notice him?

This only made someone jealous, and a little angry. You don't want his help, even after what happened at the bar, you act like there was nothing you should talk about.

You should have went to him, jump in his arms and cry about how your assistant left you. But no, instead you chose to overwork yourself, still be the same kind actress that people loved and still giving him no attention.

So, he wrote you a letter. It was nothing more than his current thoughts and about his not so healthy love that was masked as 'admiration'. Shoving into your bag when no one was looking.

You were still on set when you were reading the letter, thinking it was made by one of the staff who happened to be your fan. You didn't really payed too much mind about it, finding it cute and putting it back where you find it after you were done with it.

Did you liked it? Should he write another one? Or did he went too overboard?

Do not believe everything you see, those were your own words and yet you were ignoring them. That letter did made your day, thinking that maybe you're just overthinking about your current situation. There were bad people out there, but there were also good guys. Why were you letting one bad incident ruin your mood?

A few days later you appeared at the studio with an unknown person next to you, you finally got a assistant. And this time you're planning on doing better than you did last time. Or so you thought.

You woke up with another letter, the same handwriting and the same sweet words written on it. This time was more about you than your so called fan, about how you should take more care of your health, how you got people worrying about you. But unlike last time, this letter had a signature on it, an S, nothing more, just a simple symbol.

How cute, S for secret, right? You giggled.

Do not believe everything you see. Really, do not. But for a moment you allowed yourself to be delusional, to think that the world wasn't that bad. I mean, even if there was someone who didn't appreciate you, you still had millions of fans and there are a lot of people who supports you.

And you decided to be more humanitarian, to step up your game and follow your costar's lead. One time after everyone was done with work you announced that you want to take everyone out for drinks, your treat. No one was crazy enough to refuse, especially you.

So, you called a friend of yours who owned a restaurant, the food is great, plus they also had a bar. And off you were.

Just like last time, you ended up all alone in that place with your coworker, laughing at his silly jokes before you finally got up to pay for tonight's feast.

"Your back?" you asked, feeling someone behind you and thinking it was your assistant. But to your surprise, it wasn't. It was the white haired man who seemed drunk, and maybe he was from the few drinks he had that night.

He leaned into you, trapping you between the empty receptionist desk and him. He kept looking at you, eyes half open as he seemed to want to say something.

Your mind was wandering for a moment, moving your eyes on his full lips before looking up at him. Every sane person would have done that, I mean, he was eye catching even in that state.

"You're alright?" you sounded concerned, and for a moment he actually thought you cared about him. You looked around the empty room for a moment, looking for any other people in there, but for his assistant more specifically.

"Don't leave me." he got his face closer to your ear, whispering in a low voice, and placing his hands on either sides of your body, trying to get his body more closer to yours.

"Come." you tried to get on of his hands away, so you could move.

"Where?" he only got clingier.

"Let's sit down. I'll get you some water." the last thing you want to see is headlines with your name all over them, talking about taking advantage of him when he's such a state.

"Noo." he whined, resting his head against your shoulder. "Don't want to." you sighed, looking around the room once again, trying to see if anyone from his team is still there.

"I got the bill ready." the cashier came back, only to freeze in place and look at you and your costar hugging, or what it seemed like a hug.

"I'll pay for it as soon as my assistant comes back." you said, trying to act like you're not being suffocated by this mountain of a man. The poor girl ran back from where she came from, leaving you alone with Satoru again. You sighed, you could only sigh as you put a hand on his back, making him break character for a moment as he jolted under your touch. "You can be such a big baby sometimes." good thing that you can't see him, because he was grinning from ear to ear.

"What happened to you?" your assistant finally appeared, looking at the scene you two were putting.

"He's drunk." you said as you rubbed his back with one hand, the other resting on his side, to keep him in place from falling. "Have you seen his assistant?"

"Not since the director left." your assistant got their phone out. "I'll give them a call." you're so thankful that you overcame your fears, because you don't know what you would have done alone in a moment like this. "They turned their phone off." you looked at the man in your arms and shook your head, disappointed at how this turned out.

"Call his manager, or anyone from his team." maybe he was the one who needed a new assistant, not you.

"No one is answering their phone." you understand that it's late at night, but who could just leave a big movie star like Gojo out here without a single thought about it. "What do we do? There's a hotel nearby, we could get a room for him there." that wasn't a bad idea. However, neither you or your assistant would look good if you leave him there. I mean, someone will have to get in the hotel with this world famous actor, who's face is known by everybody. He clearly drunk, and there would 100% be someone who will post something online about it and you'll get backlash for it.

"Let's take him to my place." that was the only option you had left. He started rubbing his face against you when you said that, letting out a groan and letting more of his weight into you.

"You're sure about that?" your assistant asked, not sure how to respond to what you just said.

"He'll sleep in a guest room. It's better than a hotel." your imagine had to come first after all.

So, without any more words said, you took him to your car. Even if he was heavy, he was surprisingly easy to move around. Well, he did followed every single of your move voluntarily, refusing to let go of you in any way possible.

That until you got to your house, dragging him inside when your assistant left, and leading him to a room relatively far from yours.

You pushed him in bed, taking off his shoes and trying to get him comfortable in bed. You didn't even dared to get close to his clothes, just putting the blanket over him and then leaving him in there.

You didn't even thought of taking advantage of him, you just wanted him sleep peacefully, to keep him away from anyone who might do something bad to him. After all, you knew damn well the industry you're working in, they'll eat him like wolves if they get their hands on him.

You're just helping out, you don't expect anything in return. But what a surprise to wake up with him in your bed in the middle of the night. He was on top of you, looking at the way the moonlight hit your face, and somehow wanting to bathe in your scent.

You could feel his hot breath on you, and it made you woke up. You didn't looked scared, even if he looked like he wanted to do things you'd rather not think about, you stayed calm. "Why did you leave me?" was he still drunk, or perhaps he was pretending to be? He was a good actor after all, you wouldn't be surprised if this was one of his acts.

He doesn't understands you. If you were the one who jumped in his arms like that he would have devoured you alive. But even after he made sure he could get some time alone with you, you still didn't payed him attention, at all.

"Go to sleep." you looked unfazed, not even taking him seriously.

"Touch me." he was really going to lose his mind. He was serving himself on a plate to you, and you didn't even dared to take a bite.

"You're drunk." you'd always try to do the opposite of what he's saying.

"I'm not." you knew he was pretending from the start too, didn't you?

"That's what a drunk person would say." you were getting on his nerves.

In a moment of panic, he took your hand in his, kissing your palm, closing his eyes and looking desperate as he tried to show you how he's feeling. You didn't even bat an eye, looking at him expressionless and like you didn't believed a word be was saying.

"Why don't you like me?" he had to confront you, or else this will take him nowhere.

"It's not that." he got the wrong idea, but it wasn't your job to explain yourself when he only understands what he wants to understand.

"Then? Why do you keep avoiding me?" you shook your head.

"I want us to keep it professional." you're making him laugh.

"We weren't professional when we kissed." that's another story. "So you just used me and now you'll let me hanging like this?" he really didn't wanted to listen to you unless you said something he wants to hear. "Make it up to me." what a fucker. "I want something in return for what you did." he's talking like he didn't started it last time.

"What do you want me to do?" you really can't believe him and his stupid demands. This should have been a payback for last time. Taking care of him even if he wasn't your problem to begin with.

"Kiss me." he was waiting for your response. "Like you mean it." you just said you want to keep it professional, but it's like he didn't even heard it.

"Can't I do something else?"

"Post a picture of us." that was even worse. Who knows what people would say if you do that. You'd really be branded as his, and it was a pain in the ass to deal with it.

You grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him closer to you, giving him a kiss that he'd remember. A wet kiss that it filled the room with sound, and your tongue in his mouth dancing with his. You even wrapped your hands around his neck, making sure he doesn't back down and take back his words.

He moaned, his hands trying to get under your shirt to feel more of your skin. But you didn't let him to do anything because you ended the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at him a bit angrily. "What now?"

"Bite me." kissing wasn't enough, he wanted you to eat him. Bite him, devour him in any way you could so that way you could have a piece of him with you.

"I'm not-" he kissed you, this time pinning your hands above your head so he could explore you more freely. Every time you tried to say something he'd bite your lip, making you groan and continued to kiss you.

"Touch me." he moaned, finally getting his mouth away from yours so you could breath. He took his shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room and taking one of your hands in his, placing it on his crotch so you could feel how hard he was. He looked at you, at the face you made and how you didn't looked happy to be in that situation.

"It's too soon." you still refuse to get involved with your coworkers? What does he haves to do to prove to you that he means every single word he's saying?

"Do you really not like me?" he wanted you to be at least a little interested in him. It was no fun if he's the only one with big feelings in there.

"It's not that." it's your moral code.

"Do you ever think of me?" you didn't respond to that, only looking down at your hands amd trying to avoid eye contact.

"I'm not ready." you finally open your mouth to say something. "If we do this then nothing will be the same. We still have work to do, I can't simply just do it." so it was because of work? He already knew that, but at least you didn't dislike him.

"I get it." he said, getting off you and sitting down in bed. "Just go to sleep."

"You can sleep here if you want, I'll go somewhere else." you tried to get out of bed, but he dragged you back.

"Just because we're not fucking that doesn't mean we can't sleep." he will not let this night go without doing something. And just being able to feel your body against his as he sleeps is more than enough. Trust me when I say that this will drive him crazy for many days from now on.

The way you stay in his arms, and how he's able to shield over you. You really have no idea what power you hold onto him.

Do you regret bringing him in? A little. You hate giving people false hope, and he seems to ignore all your signs of displeasure. He did grew up in this environment after all. Being rich and famous from a young age, he haves no idea how to react when people tells him no, he can't handle rejection. And it seems that he always got what he wanted.

He didn't had to put on an act if he wanted to be around you. You could be friends, if he wanted. But nothing more, you wouldn't dare to be something more than acquaintances. You just work together, and are signed under the same entertainment company. You were nothing more than cash cows. You were the biggest stars of your agency, and you seemed to be pushed under the spot light as much as possible. He must understand how you feel, no?

He in fact didn't. And unlike you, he had more control over his actions. You could even say that the agency was afraid of him. He did come from a big family of stars, he had so many connections that even he can't say for sure how much power he was holding. But it was no joke when someone says he's the strongest.

So how can you reject him like that? Leaving him alone in that bed without blinking twice. But perhaps it was for the best, because he could finally rearrange his thoughts and think of what he should do. Retreat wasn't an option, I mean, how could he step back when he basically was in paradise?

This place smells exactly like you, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue and making him salivate while bathing in your scent. Should he steal something? You shouldn't tell him twice, because he got up the bed and starting looking around the room. He should pick something small, that you wouldn't notice. And even if you do notice, what will you do? He's shameless, you'll only give him a reason to get off to later when he's alone.

He should get something practical, that would help him during hard times.

And that's when he saw it, your closet. Something in his perverted mind suddenly lit on, and he went straight for your panties. There's so many to choose from, so many colors and models. He wants to take all of them home, put them on display right at the entrance so he would be greeted by them every time he comes home. In the end he picked one of the prettiest pair you own, shoved it in his pocket and went back into your room.

He gained more than he expected. Perhaps he should play drunk more often.

He got his shirt back on and got out the room. You couldn't possibly just left him in there all alone. And he was right, because he found you in the kitchen, sitting peacefully and taking a sip of some unknown liquid from a cup. "You're up?" the way your voice was still husky, your hair messy and your shirt falling off your shoulder. You said you didn't wanted him and yet you're trying to seduce him, how does that come?

He didn't open his mouth, only getting closer to you and taking the cup away from your hand, drinking from it without a single worry of what it might be.

It was tea, not so sweet, still warm and somehow hitting just right. "If you wanted some you could have said so." you said, getting up and walking towards one of your cabinets, getting out another cup and pouring some tea in it. "Here."

"I'll drink from this." he preferred your half empty cup rather than a full one? What a weirdo.

"Do you want to eat anything? I still have some leftovers from yesterday. I also think I still have some jam left, we could eat it with toast." stop showing him your caring side. He really doesn't know for how much longer he can keep it like this. This moment felt too intimate, it felt like you two really hooked up last night, and it was messing with his head.

You take good care of him, don't you? Offering him some of the biggest clothes you own so no one would suspect a thing, giving him a ride back to the studio. And now acting like you don't even know him. Stop being so cute, it only makes him want to bite you.

"You're here today?" the director said, looking at the two of you who got there at the same time.

"Don't we need to be here for a costumes check?" you clearly remember your assistant telling you to come back and do a last minute fit check.

"It's tomorrow." the white haired man said, wrapping his arm around yours.

"Why didn't you told me?" he was enjoying this too much, all a smile as he was trying not to react at your expression.

"I thought you were taking me home." you didn't even knew where he lives.

"Just go, you love birds. You clearly have better places to be at." the director laughed, making you look in disbelief at him. Love birds? Who?

"Come on, let's go back." Satoru didn't let you say a thing and dragged you out of there.

All he needs to do at the moment is keep people away from approaching you. And it's not hard, at all. Just standing next to you, flash a smile and say something that could be interpreted in wrong ways. He doesn't even need to try to make people run.

"Seriously, why didn't you tell me?" you said when you got back to your car. "Now I look stupid." you looked so gloomy, he was going to eat the pout of yours.

"I thought you knew." he'll get you even more confused about things if it means he'll see you like this. It gave him a false sense of security, like you were finally accepting him.

You sighed, not wanting to let out your anger on him. "Let me drive you home." it would be bad if more people sees you together. And at this point you don't trust anyone to come near your home to get him.

What a joke.

The next day you woke up with people blowing your phone again, and another article of your name next to his, talking about everything you did in public. Your interactions at the bar, how he was spotted at your house where he didn't left until the next morning, and about how you always look lovey dovey at the sets.

The filming progress just started and yet there were already rumors all over the internet about how you two would end up being more than just coworkers by the end of that movie.

Who keeps writing this? Seriously, it was getting on your nerves. And the fact that Satoru kept feeding delusions to the fans wasn't helping.

All this hype around the movie wasn't supposed to be only about you two, the main cast. It was supposed to be about all the production. The set, the visuals, the acting and the script, everyone's hard work. You should have turned down the offer as soon as you heard who your costar would be. But you didn't see any of these coming, so who can you blame?

Things only seems to get worse, because when you stared filming again, you got assigned with a new task.

"So, we're filming what were doing behind the scenes?" you asked, looking at the small camera that one of your coworkers was holding and then at them.

"The director said it would be fun. Giving people a little preview of what's going on." well, it didn't sounded that bad. People seems to enjoy behind the scenes footage in general, letting them see a bit of the actors lifes.

"I see." if the director said so, then you guess you don't really have a saying in this.

"We started already?" the white haired man appeared next to you out of nowhere, resting a hand on your head and leaning into you.

"Satoru, say hi to the camera." the actor said, moving the device to his face.

"Oh right, Y/N." there was a hint of his evil plan in his voice, already knowing you'd be pissed with him. "Are my clothes still at your place? I think I forgot them there." you really couldn't control your expression in that moment, looking at him like he killed somebody.

"What?" your voice was shaking, still not over the fact that he would say something like that in this situation. "Why would they be at my house?"

"I changed there last time. I think I left the clothes on the couch before we left."

"Ohh~" the other actor said, making you to look at them, somehow begging them to not get the wrong idea. "I see you're busy. I'll let you be, I won't interact."

"No, wait. It's not what it seems." it was already too late. "Why would you say that?" because he knew the director loves drama, and this would end up being published sooner or later. He was killing two birds with one stone. Doing a favor for the movie's publicity and showing the world that he already been in places some wouldn't even dare of dreaming of.

"People love things like these." he wrapped his hands around you, resting his chin on your head. "Hug me, the camera is in our direction." if it was or not, he couldn't care less. He just wanted to feel your touch in that moment.

It only got worse and worse the moment you started filming the sex scenes. The scenes were like a reflection of your own actions in real life, because everything started with a drunk kiss at a bar. Then ending up in his apartment where you were eating each other in the hallway.

It was supposed to be acting, the kisses didn't even needed to be real and yet he's not even holding back, touching you in all kind of inappropriate places, groping you shamelessly like there aren't cameras all over the place.

He pinned you against the sturdiest wall in there, making you wrap your legs around him as he kept biting and kissing you all over the place. At this point, you don't think the editors would need any sonds effects for your scenes. Because you realized how filthy those sounds were, and loud. Every time you kissed it was echoing in that empty place, the small setting that was supposed to represent a house wouldn't be enough to muffle the sounds.

He bite your lip when he realized your head was in a complete another place. How dare you ignore him in moments like these. You couldn't run even if you wanted, because you'd have to come back to him and film everything from the start. Or perhaps he could make you screw up on purpose, to retake this scene so he could touch you even more.

"Wait." you tried to stop him when you felt his hand under your shirt, trying to unclip your bra.

"What?" he said out of breath, taking his lips away from you for a moment so he could look at you.

"Let-" you looked away, too embarrassed at the way he was looking at you, his pupils were dilated and he looked like he would really put his dick in you if it wasn't for all these people in there. "Let me do it." his lips were back on yours while his hands were trying to take your clothes off.

Both of your clothes were all over the place, and you know it would be a pain in the ass to pick them after. He was too focused on this, the way he looked like he couldn't see anyone but you, like you were really alone in his house.

That's the beauty of acting, no? How some could get so focused on the plot, acting like their character is supposed to and forgetting about the outside world. But he wasn't acting in that moment. Maybe you were, but he taking this very personally. And the fact that you were holding back moans, refusing to touch him more than necessary and trying to stay in your character was infuriating him. It wasn't his character that makes you feel good, it was him.

He ended up throwing you in the bed a little harder than he intended, his touch becoming rougher and his kisses even wetter than before.

Good god, it's good that the scene ended soon after you two got to the bed, or else you would have lost it. You're already soaking wet, you have no idea what you would have done if this kept going for too long.

The scene was perfect, as much as you're embarrassed about it, it was pure perfection. Not a single time did the director called cut, you didn't had to retake the same scene from another angle. Nothing was said about your so called acting besides that you were in complete sync.

He's taking revenge on you, isn't he? Because even now after you finished your scenes for today, he looked at you with the same hungry eyes. And you swear you didn't mean it, but it made your pussy clench.

You gave him a quick look, squeezing your thighs together for a moment when he looked back at you.

It was something that he never saw before, the way you act. That expression on your face, pouting and looking at him with this thing in your eyes that made him want to drag you somewhere far away from people. You needed him, didn't you? And he was going to help you if you asked him to. Because if he got you in that state, then he also had to resolve your problem.

But you didn't spoke to him, you just looked at him all needy for a moment, like you wanted his touch back on you and then left, leaving him with the worst bonner he ever got in his life. This, only to come back a few days later for your next scenes.

You were driving him insane. And there aren't enough interactions in the movie to take out his frustration on you. There are too little scenes, and sometimes he had to improvise when he was getting too lost in his feelings. A few kisses here and there, just a quick peak when you were in the background to give more life to the movie.

But you still didn't said a thing, acting like this was all part of the script, like you were payed to do so.

So can you blame him when he wrote you another letter again? This time more aggressive than the previous times. Talking about how you got him feeling, how he craves for your touch and it drives him insane the way you seem not to care. Give him attention, or act like you acknowledge him. And this time he left the paper in your dressing room, placed under one of your stuff where he knows you'll know it was meant for you.

Too bad he couldn't see your reaction when you read the letter, but he realized you weren't too happy about it. It got you acting paranoid again, he could see it in your eyes, your body language. How you need to have a bit of distance from anyone that tries to come too close to you, and how you seem not to trust people anymore.

It was just a letter, he didn't even wrote everything down. No, in fact, he held back a lot. Because if he did wrote his mind you would refuse to come back into the movie set ever again.

But that's your charm, I guess. How you don't hide your feelings, and how you try to not make it obviously that you're displeased with things even if it's written all over your face. You're a good actress, a very good one, and yet you don't act unless you're required to. You were the opposite of him, where he always haves a mask on, the same business smile as you. But unlike you, he doesn't mean an thing, this friendly facade.

You were genuinely a sweetheart, while he only acted as he sees fit. And in this moment he's so close on fucking everything up just to toy with you. Because he's at his limits.

It was time for another suggestive scene, the set being filled with less people than usually. The lowlights, the atmosphere and everything in there was a bit suffocating. But maybe because of how much you overworked yourself these days.

"Do you think the plan will work?" you asked, sitting on his couch and looking at the coffee table that was placed there by the staff members.

"Do we have any other option?" he said his line in a serious tone, his character was supposed to be stressed from all the unfortunate events that happened lately, but it seems that he too is stress. Well, everybody been working overtime lately, but the sooner you were done with this movie the sooner you could move on with your life.

"I wish we could resolved this peacefully, I'm tired of fighting." you sighed, looking at your fingers for a moment and then at him who was resting not so far from you on the couch.

"Come here." he pat his lap, his back resting against the couch and he didn't even wanted to move an inch from there. He was improvising again, he was supposed to get up and drag about bottle of alcohol into this.

You followed his instructions, not wanting to pretend to be drunk again, and somehow not wanting to act in that moment too. If he haves a better idea for this scene then you'll follow his lead.

So, you sat on his lap, legs spread on either sides of him and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands resting on your hips, moving towards your ass as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him, your chest pressed against his as he placed you over his hard cock. You could feel him through his pants, and for a moment you stopped functioning, not knowing how to react to this.

"Well figure it out." he kissed you, his hands going under your shirt to make contact with your burning skin.

The kiss was so sloppy, both of you too tired to figure out a pace you should go at. Just touching, getting lost in the way your bodies seem to welcome each other openly. For a moment even forgetting where you actually are at the moment, and if the director wouldn't have said cut, you could have definitely escalated things.

What was going on in your mind? How could you let yourself so carefree? If you was just a bit more tired and at a state where you couldn't think properly, you would have definitely dragged him to your changing room and fucked him there.

And you woke up with another letter, even worse than last time. Talking about how your body looks, how he wants to get his hands on you, how you turn him on in the worst way possible.

The more you ignored those letters, the more they came. It got so bad, describing his fantasies, the way you appear in his dreams to haunt him like he wasn't haunting you right now. You had no idea who the sender was, because sometimes the letters would be sign as S, sometimes they would just be filled with nothing but filthy words and no signature. But you knew it was the same person from their handwriting.

You'd always wake up with them in places where there aren't many people allowed. And no matter how hard you're thinking about, you can't figure who it was. There were no cameras in this side of the studio, so you couldn't even see who was tormenting you.

"Why don't we go drinking tonight?" the director said one time before you were almost done with work fot that day. "We're almost done with filming, lets celebrate." after all these stressful days, you could use a drink.

It will be quick, go there, have a chat with a few people, have a drink and then go home. But just like last time, one drink turned into too many and you ended up in a corner of the bar with your costar who seemed to feed you even more alcohol.

He had his chin resting against his palm, looking at you with a smile on his face as he kept pouring more of that bitter liquor into your glass. "I can't drink no more." you couldn't even speak properly, hiccuping and moving left to right, like you were about to fall off your chair.

"One more won't hurt." the bar was still filled with people, so he had to keep himself in place.

"I got the car ready." your assistant came to your table looking at you and then at the white haired man. "I have to take her home, she's already too drunk." maybe he should get rid of this one too. It seems that all your assistants like to get in between his plans.

But perhaps he got a better idea. He took your glass, gulping down everything that was in it in a second before he tried to get you to the car. "Give me a ride too." he got in the backseat of your car, pretending to fall asleep after some time.

Your assistant tried to call anyone related to him, to come pick him up from your house because he seems too drunk to even stand on his own feet. But since no one was answering, they had no choice but to get him in your house, leaving him on the couch before they left.

It was always easy, so damn easy. He couldn't help but laugh. Drunk, him? He never got drunk in his life. Alcohol seems to have no effect on him.

He made his way to your room, getting next to the bed and looking at you sleeping. How dare you be so at peace when he's there? You were panicking all over the place last time he wrote you a letter, crying and refusing to talk to anybody if it wasn't for work. And now you act like you forgot about it.

He stood in place, looking down at you with an expressionless face as he can't think of anything at the moment. He got this far, so what? He could scare you more, give you a reason to hate him but at the same time all he wants to do is stand there all night and look at you.

He took his phone out, taking a quick picture of you before he put it back in his pocket.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, not far from where you're sleeping, looking out the window and then back at you. You had quite a nice view, no wonder you always seem to be in a hurry to come home.

Should he do something mean? Leave another letter in your home to see your reaction the next day. He could put it in one of your pockets and act like he doesn't remember anything besides going to the bar to drink. Maybe even leave the front door open and say some shit about hearing something while he was asleep.

But before he could think of anything more, you extend a hand, grabbing him by his shirt and trying to drag him closer. Like before, he just stood in place, looking down at you who seemed to pull harder. Were you mistaking him for the blanket or something? Unfortunately for you, he won't take off his clothes until you do so.

"Mm." you groaned, opening your eyes to look at the white haired man confused. "Ah.." you rubbed your forehead. "Fuck." that was the first time he heard you swear. "Come here." were you still sleeping? Because he doubts you'd react that lightly to him being there. But you were calling for him, and he wouldn't dare to say no to you. So he got in that bed, getting all cozy next to you and waiting for your next move.

For a moment you just touched him, moving your hand on his face, trying to feel something before it went lower on his body. He stood there, observing your clumsy actions and letting you do whatever you wanted with him. Your hands kept wandering, from his chest to his abs under his shirt, and now you were tugging at his pants, trying to see what you didn't got to see until now.

You were funny, the way you looked surprised whenever you discovered something new about him. "Don't do that." he said when you kept trying to get your hands in his pants.

"I want to see it." you pout, looking at him for a moment before you moved his shirt out the way, exposing his lower abdomen. "If you're as big as it feels." his heart skipped a beat, he couldn't help but cover his face with his hands. Do whatever you want, he'll hold back so you can explore as much as you want. "Ohh!" seriously, he can't even look at you when you make those faces. He was biting his lips so hard, he's afraid he might moan before you even touch him. "Why are you so big? Look at the size." his cock twitched, making you let out another surprised sound.

"Touch it." he said between his teeth, looking at you between his fingers and at what you're doing.

Your eyes moved on his, a serious expression on your face before your eyes went back to his dick. Can you even fit something like this inside you? The size was just ridiculous, but that didn't stopped you from touching it. Moving your hand around and studying like it was the first time seeing a cock.

He was bucking his hips forward in your hand, breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself from touching you. This was the first time you ever showed interest in him, he can't just fuck this up.

"How does it feel?" you asked, looking at the way he throws his head backwards, his chest rising and falling down.

Good, it feels so fucking good. He might go crazy from how soft your hand was. He moaned, not even being able to let out words, or think of a way to respond to you.

"I want that too." you took your hand away, making him to finally look at you as you took your clothes off. Now sitting on top of him, taking his cock back in your hand and trying to take him inside your pussy. But it didn't matter how much you're trying, it was impossible to get at least his head. It hurts, the more you try the more frustrated you became. "It doesn't fit." his dick twitched again. You're killing him, you're saying stuff he didn't imagine you to say, and it was killing him inside.

"I'll make it fit." he pushed you off him, pinning you down into the bed as he got in between your legs, placing kisses on your body as he went lower and lower, until he got to your pussy.

He loved the way you taste, it was better than he imagined. So much fucking better. It was no wander he was trying to devour you, I mean, who knows when he's going to do this again. So he might as well do it until he memorizes your taste.

Your hands went through his hair, tugging at it lightly as you let out soft moans, even cursing under your breath from time to time, letting him know how good you were feeling.

He pulled a few orgasms out of you, loving way too much the way your thighs wrapped around him, or how you're trembling, looking at him with teary eyes and you only seem to want more.

He'll give you more, he'll give you as much as you ask for, fuck, even more. He'll make sure to make you fit him, prepare you so good that you could only fit his cock from now on. He'll give you a reason to keep going back to him.

He got up from between your legs, sitting next to you as he got his hand back to your pussy, slowly pushing two fingers inside and making you gasp. "Is it good?" he whispered in your ear, feeling the way you clench around him. All you did was to nod, looking at him with big doe eyes and leaning more into him, to feel more of his warmth.

"Deeper." you said when he didn't went more than halfway through, moving his fingers at a slow pace that it left you hanging, almost giving you no friction whatsoever.

He kissed you quickly before moving his eyes back on your pussy, resting his cheek against your head. Be careful what you're wishing for, he'll go so deep that you'd feel him in places you never knew existed. It's already hard to hold back, but if you keep provoking him he might let his mind slip for a moment.

So, doing just as you asked him to, he got deeper, curling his fingers upwards and making you squirm. He kissed you again, this time taking no break as he kept bullying your insides, making your walls get tighter around him. How is he going to live without this? How can he go back home and act like everything is normal after this? That's why he couldn't help but move faster, in a irregular pace as he kept stopping from time to time only to go rougher. So you wouldn't get too used to him.

You were a moaning mess, and he seems to only want you to lose your mind, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, kissing you as he made you turn around so he could do it from another position. He wants to go even deeper, to get back at your words, for requesting unnecessary things when he was going to give you what you wanted anyway.

"One more, come on baby. Give me one more." for how much longer is he going to say that? He's starting to get on your nerves at this point. But in the end, he finally took his fingers out of you. Dragging you closer to him so your back could be pressed against his chest, one of his arms under you head as he kept your hair away from your face, so he could be able to look at you. "You'll fit me now." he whispered in your ear, dragging your hips back and grabbing one of your legs, spreading them apart as he start whispering more filthy words in your ear. "Look at how you're taking me in." he said, waiting for you to say something, but to his surprise, you're long gone into the dream world. Sleeping soundlessly in his arms, like you forgot that he was even there.

He can't believe this. You actually fell asleep. You really dared to fall asleep and leave him there after you dragged him in your bed. The audacity you had. He's going to make sure to give you a hard time tomorrow for this. So, he too fell asleep next to you. A bit hard to do so, but he managed somehow.

The next day you woke up with your head killing you. You shouldn't have drank that much, how could you have been so dumb.

You were about to turn around when you realized that someone was in your bed, a pair of muscular arms around you, and someone breathing into the back of your neck. Your heart stopped working, you froze in place as you saw your soul leaving.

"Morning." a masculine voice could be heard from behind you, and you feared that you knew exactly who it was. He pressed his body into yours, letting you know you were both naked, and feeling his hard cock pressed against your back.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run from there and not look back for a single moment. How could you have been so stupid, how could you just do that. Just how drunk did you got?

"Don't tell me you're planning on running away." he whispered into your ear, making you flinch. "You dragged me into your bed, put your hands all over me and now you're going to leave me after you used me as you pleased? I had no idea you were that type of person." you whined, because that's all you could do in that moment. What other explanation do you have?

"I can explain." he pressed his cock into you harder, making you yelp.

"Oh yeah?" one of his hands traveled on your body, now going up towards your boobs, making you gasp when he groped one. "You kept me up all night." you cried at his words. "Don't you remember the way you got on top of me? Trying to get my cock inside then crying about how big it is." you closed your eyes shut, trying not to let out another whine from remembering what happened last night.

"I'm sorry.." what else could you say besides that?

"You weren't sorry when you were telling me to go deeper." his hand went down your body, wanting to go in between your legs to spread them again, but you jumped out of bed.

"I'm sorry, alright. I have no idea what got into me last night." you were really planning on running? Don't make him laugh.

"So you really just used me then, huh?" he stood there, in your bed. Half his body being covered by the blanket while the other was all naked, his skin exposed to you and he didn't seemed to me ashamed at all by what happened.

But if you think about it, he was the one who got a bottle of a really strong liquor and dragged you to the corner of the bar, making you have a glass with him. "It's your fault too." his eyes wided, looking at you like he didn't expected to hear that. "I might have dragged you in my bed, but if you didn't liked it you wouldn't have stayed." he smiled, finally letting his mask drop as his body language suddenly changed. He looked more relaxed, a smirk on his face as he uncovered more of his body.

"Come here. Let's continue from where we were." you moved you eyes away from him, not daring to look in his direction as you could see his cock. "Don't be shy now. You weren't last night, so why should you be now?" you're not going to listen to his nonsense anymore. "You don't want me anymore? How sad." he looked at the way you were going to your closet. "I still want you though." you ignored him as you went to get dressed. But you couldn't even do that in peace because he got behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and resting his chin against your head. "You should wear that, it looks good on you." he pointed at some dress you had in there.

"I'm not going anywhere today." you want to be comfortable, not dress up for nothing.

"Then wear nothing. I like it when you have nothing on." you could feel that, since he made it sure to let you know he was still as hard as before.

"Here." you said as you picked some clothes that were clearly too big to be on your size. "You can wear this." now that's he's thinking about it, something doesn't add up.

"Why do you have male clothes in your closet?" who else wore these? And you dared to give them to him like it was nothing too.

"I like buying them since they're comfortable." oh, that was an option too. Why didn't he thought of that? I mean, it's been quite a while since you last been in a relationship, and he knows that since he always knows what you're doing. What if he's not paying attention to you one time and you get married? He can't possibly let you do that. That empty spot in your bed was reserved to him. "We needed to talk." you said after you got dressed, getting out your closet and walking outside your room.

"About what?" he knows this moment. You always make people sign an NDA before you get into a anything deeper. But what he doesn't like about your relationships is that it's almost never too intimate, you just go out, eat, spend some time together and then that's it. Did one of those fuckers left you disappointed and now you're avoiding contact with other people? How sad. But well, since you have him now you don't have to think about that anymore. He'll get you drunk on his dick, and he'll make sure you only have eyes for him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know if we can continue this." huh? That wasn't what you were supposed to say. "We still have to film the movie, and then the promotions. I don't want anything awkward between us."

"What about after?" you didn't said a thing, only looking down at your feet before looking at him. "So you did play with me, huh?" perhaps this was your revenge for making you feel weak. He can't believe you actually knew of his doings and you didn't said a thing.

"If you still feel the same after everything is done.." huh? What did you just said? You were actually going to give him a chance? The NDA still sounded better, and he'll sign it in a blink of an eye if you do hit him with one.

He thought that something would change, that you'd be more open to him. But no, you were still as distant as ever.

You were playing with him, weren't you? You were just playing dumb because you knew how he actually was feeling. Well, he too can tournament you. From that day onward he kept writing you everyday, placing the letters in really inconvenient places and watching your reaction from not that afar if he could.

He made sure to not let you rest a single moment while you were on the set. It did not lasted for long whatsoever, because the filming soon ended and the film was sent to editing, giving everybody a break until the promotions starts.

You skipped the party, lying about how you got a cold and you didn't want anyone else to catch it, so you stayed at home.

You still remember the day the trailer was published, the way your phone was blowing and how you didn't dared to even look at it that day. But when you did turned it on, everything was worse than you imagined.

The trailer opened with a scene of the city, then it got to the point of where the conflict started, and as you watched more, the more scenes from the movie were put in, the fighting, the peaceful times, and it ended with you and Satoru kissing against a wall. A big long scenes of just the two of you almost fucking in there, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

The comments? You could smell them from a mile away. You could hear screamings and whistles, like you knew exactly what people were talking about. And you were right because when you opened that section you were met with people talking about you and your costar rather than the trailer itself.

"Was the last scenes necessary?" a comment said, and you couldn't agree more to it. But the replies under it said otherwise.

Your social medias? Filled with people purring about you and Gojo. And he seemed to enjoy this as he kept liking comments about the two of you. And now people were officially calling him your husband. He was the one demanding to be called yours, not the other way. Because you weren't his property, he was yours.

You tried to get out the house in god knows how many days, finally going to the agency to talk to your manager about the situation. Can't you calm it down somehow? And the answer was no. The media was responding so positively about this, you couldn't just say something about it when you were put in such a good light. I mean, look, there were so many people requesting for you appearance than any other times before. Your team was busy responding to phone calls and emails for you.

So many people wanted you in their movies, because if they get you they also get Gojo. Since he apparently, you have no idea when, said that he won't act in a movie unless you're there. And if you accepted a role, then they automatically get Satoru too. Killing two birds with one stone. Having two of the most hot actors, who happened to be a so called power couple, acting in their movie was a free pass to the most sold movie of the year.

But you didn't even looked at those offers, no matter how good they were. You don't want to get involved with him anymore, he was only going to bring you problems.

Instead of accepting any offers, you decide to make a quick appearance on some big show that only asked for you to participate. The first thing you heard today that didn't involved Gojo's name into it.

You were so happy to go there, all a smile and stress free knowing that you don't have to get involved with that guy any time soon.

Did you really think that it was going to be that easy? You just got there on the set and you were met with one of the questions you were trying to avoid.

"First of all, I'm a big fan." the host said when you sat down on the couch. "But I don't really wanna say much so your boyfriend won't get jealous." you awkwardly laughed. "How is he, btw?" you had no idea what to say.

"You know." you said, biting your lip and trying to think of an excuse. "We both been busy." you don't even know in what county is he right now.

"I'm sure you are." the interview went on, moving to other discussions and you managed to forget about the white haired man for a moment. "Hold on a second." the host said as they talked to a staff member. "So, um, I was informed about something. And, Y/N, we actually have a gift for you?" how sweet, you thought. Only to be welcomed with your costar on the set, making the audience clap. "What a surprise, right?" you smiled, putting on your same old business smile on as you tried to keep your composure.

"I was nearby and I was thinking why not paying a visit." he lied as he got closer to the couch.

"It's always nice to have you here." the host said. "Please sit down, I actually wanted to ask about the new movie you two played in."

"I'd love to but I'm kinda in a hurry." he leaned down towards you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and messing with your hair for a moment. "You two have fun." he said as he got away from you. "I have to go now. I wasn't even supposed to stop to begin with." he waved as he left, making the audience sound way too happy about this.

"Relax, no need to be shy." the host said, looking at your expression. "We already saw the trailer, it's nothing we haven't seen already." you wanted to cry. "So, about the movie. Does it have more of those scenes or were we deceived with the trailer?" you'll make sure to pick a written interview next.

"I'm not really sure if I should talk about it.." you tried to change the subject.

"It's not like you're spoiling the movie for us. We're curious about you and your partner." and that's what you don't like.

"Well.." everybody's eyes were on you. "Let's just say that you'll see more." that was enough to make the crowd go crazy.

Because of that guy now you can't even deny that you two aren't together anymore.

You would have been alright with all of this if the nothing happened between the two of you, and if Gojo felt the same way as you. But he seemed to push the idea of something happening between the two of you to the public. It was driving you crazy because you didn't know how to react. You always told yourself that you won't get involved with anyone from the industry, that you'll make a few more movies and then retire, find someone simple and live an almost normal life.

But instead you're here, stuck with media actually approving of this non existent relationship.

You have to talk to Satoru next time you see him. But you never really got the chance to do that in private when the promotions started.

Interview after interview and it only looked like you were surrounded by more and more people. And he didn't wanted to talk to you when you tried to pull him aside, talking about how people will think something inappropriate about the two of you when he was the one who was saying stupid things in front of the camera.

Now it was the premiere, having to stay arm in arm with him the whole time. And he doesn't hold back even for a moment, letting his hands roam around your body and making the crowd go insane.

"Let's talk." you whispered to him, making him lower his head so he could hear you.

"What about?" he was playing dumb, he already knew what you wanted to say.

"Do you have some time later?" you said as you wrapped your arm around his, following his lead as he was guiding you around the red carpet.

"Who knows." he said that, but at the after party you managed to trap him in a corner not allowing him to go away before he had a talk with you. "There are people watching." a smile on his face as he said that, looking at your angry face as you had him pinned to the wall.

"I don't care. You're going to run again." look at how the roles switched. He had no idea you would actually try to confront him.

"Then." he wrapped his arms around you, looking down at you and grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want to talk about."

"People are thinking that we really are in a relationship." your current position wasn't any better either. People were giving you looks like you were being perverts in public.

"They are?" why was he acting shocked when he was the one feeding that idea to others.

"We don't have to pretend anymore." you said, but that only made him to drag you closer.

"You said you'd give me a chance after we're done with the movie." you said a lot of things that you didn't mean, why was this any different.

"I just said that I don't want people to think we're in a relationship. What do you not get?" snap at him more, he can't be any happier than he's at that moment. He leaned down, his face getting closer to yours and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Keep your promises, don't disappoint me." you huffed, turning your face in another direction only for him to turn it back towards him and kiss you on your lips. "Let's get out of here. It started to get boring anyway." why did you listen to him was a mystery, why you followed him to his car and back to his house was something you couldn't figure it out. And how you ended up in his bed? You can't really respond to that either.

He was kissing you, hands under your clothes and trying to get them off as fast as he could. Moaning into your mouth whenever you touched him, pushing his body into yours and trying to become one with you in a way or another.

How could you think that you could leave him? What would he do if he doesn't have you? What is he supposed to do from now on if he can't think about you 24/7? To even dare to think about abandoning him, he's going to punish you for this.

"Turn around." that stupid dress was in his way, he can't believe your stylist really made you wear this. What if there are fuckers out there who still dares to look at you even after he made it very clearly who you belong to.

Well, whatever. He'll make sure to get rid of that stylist of yours. Not a big problem.

He kissed your back as your skin became exposed to him. With a swift movement taking your panties off and throwing them somewhere easy to spot, to not forget to take them later.

You had to tell him to take his clothes off so you could catch a break, otherwise he would have took you there from how impatient he was.

You just stood there, at the edge of his bed, one leg over the other and looking at him trying to take off his tie faster. He really had to wear a fucking suit, now look at him, he was about to rip it off him. And look at you, you look so calm about this, enjoying seeing him struggle while he was losing his mind. "Undress me." he looked down at you, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking your hand in his and placing over his white shirt to unbutton it.

You might as well do it, you don't see why not. But the problem was him and his stubbornness. Kissing you, almost pushing you in bed while you were just trying to do as he said. It took a long time, and the task seemed to never end, but here you were now, with him on top of you and making you wrap your legs around him. No fancy party could make him miss this, in fact he couldn't even care about that damn premiere to begin with.

His hands were traveling on your body, touching you in some of his favorite places. You were so warm, he couldn't help himself. How you gasp whenever he's groping you, dragging you closer to him so he could feel you even closer, even if there was no more space left between the two of you.

"Put it in already." you demanded, but he wasn't going to just give it to you yet. What if you struggle like last time? He can't let you say such dirty words again or you might not be able to walk at all tomorrow.

"There's no rush." you can act as cute as you want, he's going to take his time with you. After all, you need to see how good he can treat you, make you feel so good that all you'll remember is his name. He kissed your forehead before he moved his eyes on his hand that was going in between your legs. "Look how wet you are." you were a bit embarrassed about it. "And you said that you don't want me." your body can be more honest sometimes, and he'll love to learn more about it.

He got some of your juices on his fingers, moving it around your clit to see the way your body tensed immediately. Weren't you a needy one? He kissed the side of your face before pushing two of his fingers in, paying attention to the face you were making and at the way you were sucking him in.

He moved his hand at a relatively slow pace, it was more about to make you feel the way you're taking him, how deep his fingers can go compared to yours, or anybody else. You can only feel like this because of him. See the way you're still so tight? That's because he wasn't there to stretch you out the way you needed.

"Keep your eyes open, alright baby?" he spoke to you in a baby voice, making you feel like he was mocking you. "Don't hide from me." can't he just fuck you already? Why was he playing around so much.

You did tried to do as he said, keeping your eyes open and trying to avoid eye contact with him because it made your pissy clench. This was so embarrassing, the way he was taking his sweet time and giving you almost no friction at all, and how he seems to enjoy this. Like torturing you was bringing him pleasure.

He didn't let you say a word and smashed his lips against yours, placing his palm against your clit as he finally started to move like he means it. Curling his fingers up so hard it got you squirming and letting out a few moans. And you never seem to stay in place, moving around and arching your back every time he was hitting something that makes you see stars.

You were a mess, the way you were so wet that your juices got on his bedsheets, and the noises your body makes were so obscene and loud it was hard to ignore.

He noticed the way you look at him, pleading for some mercy like you were at your limit about to break. But there was so much more in you, one orgasm wasn't going to stop him from giving you another. And he swears on his name the next one will be even mind blowing.

That's when he took his hand back to himself, making you sit more comfortably in bed before he positioned back in between your legs. This time he'll make sure you'll stay awake and take all of him, there was no other way.

You looked at his face and then at his cock, at the way he had his head at your entrance, almost pushing it in. You'll take him? Like, you're really going to fit him? "You can do it." he said when he finally pushed some of his cock in. "Fuck." he cursed under his breath. "I know you can do it." he let out a moan, throwing his head back for a moment before moving his eyes back on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed and the cutest pout you ever showed him. It was like you really had a death wish, to fuck with his feelings like this and making his dick twitch. If he couldn't control himself any better he would had came right there on the spot. "Too much?" he said as he kept pushing his cock all the way in, making you nod as your words were stuck in your throat. "That's too bad."

You won't see any sympathy from him. Does he even knows what that means to begin with? You're too delicious, and the fact that he could pull even more expressions out of you made him push you over your limits.

So here he was, moving in and out of you way slower than he wants, rubbing your clit with his thumb and observing you like the pervert he is. He was salivating, drooling over your weak form as you showed him your off guard self. His cock twitching every time you let out a moan, and making you jolt at the sensation.

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he kept looking down at you, moving his hips in the same old motion. You nodded again, eyes still closed and biting your lip because of how he made you feel. He'll make it hurt even more, don't think that you can rest yet just because he's going easy on you. Fuck, he wants to sink his teeth into you so bad, leave marks all over your body as he rams his cock in and out of you.

But then you looked at him, big teary doe eyes that had him seeing a flash before him. He almost came, like, he almost cum just because you looked at him. If you want him to keep it together you have to talk some sense into him, because he doesn't think he can recover from that.

"You can move." no, don't give him a green light. Torment him more, play with his feeling and edge him till he's losing his damn mind. Don't be so sweet to him, he'll end up locking you up if you do that.

He pressed his chest against yours, his mouth finding yours as he started kissing you like the most starved man on earth. He moved his hips without a warning, slamming into you like you were his toy, and yet demanding for your touch. He was pushing himself into you, trying to steal the air away from your lungs as he seemed more desperate with each thrust.

He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to snap at him and push him off, or tell him that's he's being too rough so he could stop being so delusional. But you didn't, only dragging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him just as needy as he was, both of you being a moaning mess. And not letting go of each other even after you came, wanting to feel even more. To cum again and again, and to be filled by him to the brim, even if you knew that would bring you some serious problems later when you finally come back to your senses.

The next day you woke up with a sore body, your skin aching all over the place, and barely being able to get up the bed.

That didn't stopped you from getting dressed with some clothes you found around the room, what you can only assume it was his since they were way too big.

You got out the room, in hope to find your phone or maybe the white haired man so he could get you back home. And now you were in the living room, looking around for your things. Instead finding a letter, that seemed way too familiar.

That handwriting, you could recognize it everywhere. And that damn signature, the fucking S.

It was one of the letters he didn't managed to 'give' it to you yet. And honestly, you don't know if you should be relieved or terrified because this one was worse than anything before.

You turned around, paper still in your hand and looking at the tall guy who had his back pressed against the wall. He was expressionless, no thoughts behind his head as he seemed to stare at you like he was looking into the void.

It was him, that damn son of a bitch. He played with you all this time and you had no idea.

"I made you breakfast." he said, not every caring if you found out about his doings or not. "Come while it's still hot." he let out a laugh at your expression. You never hold back, do you? Can you at least try to not look like your about to kill him?