#nothing personal against the actor or anything

[omega-red]

liev schreiber sabretooth disgusts me 😖

[drdemonprince]

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though, it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[shotmrmiller]

a little prologue before i eventually write the schmeat.

pornstar au!

f!reader

Simon retired from the adult entertainment industry at 38 years old, but he'd been in it for a decade and a half.

He left his mark, going down in history as one of the greatest of all time in pornography. Simon was a living legend, and his cock was equally legendary which even attracted the attention of famous personalities. In fact, he made sure they signed an airtight NDA just to have the privilege of having his phone number.

It eventually became dull, however, and decided it was time to call it quits. He'd had his fun and now explicitly works behind the scenes with the casting and directing.

Not for the lack of trying on his hires' part though. He cannot recall how many times he's had actors trying to entice him into bending them over the black leather couch or fuck them against the walls of their dressing rooms.

Simon had retired and meant it.

That was, until you.

A fresh face, a rookie in the business but he's completely mesmerized by the video he's watching featuring his protege, Johnny. The scene itself was nothing special, just a dad's best friend script, but you...something about you was extraordinary.

He felt his manhood stir as he watched your lips parting in a silent scream as a climax washed over you, causing your toes to curl and fingers to dig into Johnny's biceps as he split you open on top of a kitchen counter.

Your eyes clenched tightly in bliss; head thrown back in pleasure. You weren't faking it in the least, not that it was ever in question— there was a frothy, milky cream around the base of Johnny's cock, your body twitched with the aftershocks of it, and he's had more than a lifetime's worth of women and men underneath and on top of him to know what a real orgasm looked like.

You looked delectable. His mouth watered as he thought of getting a taste of you— he wanted to eat that pretty pussy of yours like it was to be his last meal, push his thick fingers into your slick hole and make you ride his hand until you hunched over and gushed arousal down his wrist and forearm.

Simon palmed himself roughly outside of his trousers and hissed when Johnny covered your mouth with his as he rubbed your slippery clit under the pad of his thumb until you broke away to let out a choked scream— another peak that Johnny takes as his.

He fucks you through it with a slow undulation of his hips, just like Simon taught him, and only when your limbs are loose, syrupy, does he finally relent and in a few thrusts, he's pulling out and covering your glistening slit with his spend.

Simon grips his phone so hard, it makes a cracking sound. He's had A-list celebrities with unrivaled beauty begging for him to see them again. He's had Aphrodite in his bed and Adonis on his knees.

And yet none compare to the sight of you, skin dewy with saliva and sweat, damp hair sticking to your forehead, and another man's cum dripping out of you.

He's enthralled.

Simon tosses his cell and briskly walks toward his kitchen island, where his laptop sits. In a matter of minutes, he's sent an email to the company you work for and told them to name their price, he'd pay anything to get you in his studio.

They readily agreed, of course. No one denies Simon anything.

Simon runs his tongue over his teeth in anticipation; he's gonna lift you to the very stars.

Ghost is about to make his long-awaited return and only for you.

[crushpunky]

actress!reader helps drew rehearse a scene

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off this ask <3

“‘Their lips touch hesitantly, they pull away, then they continue intensely. It looks as if the two are trying to eat each other’?” Drew reads, an exasperated expression on his face from the opposite end of the couch. He had been reading through the scene he was supposed to begin rehearsal for next week. When he auditioned for Queer, he knew that it was going to be something intense, like Luca’s other projects and unlike anything else he had worked on. Sure, he’d done explicit scenes in the past, but nothing quite as intimate or personal as the ones Luca had written for Queer.

“So like biting or…?” Y/n quirked a brow, looking up from her book as she listened to Drew’s occasional comments on the script.

“I think it’s more of a like… consumption thing, y’know? Like wanting to have the person wholly, I think.” Drew nodded, adjusting his glasses as he looked over the words again. Y/n nodded, biting her bottom lip as she watched Drew, her book now long gone on the coffee table in front of them.

“‘The two hit back and forth, almost a dance of push and pull. It’s messy and intense, but beautiful and clean’. How are you supposed to act messily and cleanly? With fuckin’ Daniel Craig, let alone?” Drew sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tossed the script down. 

“I think it’s like the act itself is messy and intense, but it’s also a beautiful and almost perfectly clean and serene moment of realization.” Y/n propped her elbow up on the back of the couch, her other hand coming to rest on one of Drew’s legs that stretched across the couch. She soothed her hand along the skin of his calf, watching as he looked off into space as he thought, running the scene through his head. With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face before slinking down into the couch.

“I get it, I just… it’s gonna feel strange showing that level of intensity with someone else...” Drew chewed at his bottom lip before his eyes fell back on y/n, who had a sort of smirk on her face. 

“I think you’ll do just fine, Drew.” Y/n tried to stifle a laugh. Drew shook his head, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he sat up, his arms reaching out around y/n and pulling her to sit against his chest.

“With someone else that isn’t my girlfriend.” Drew clarified, running a hand along her side as she looked at him.

“Well, what would you usually do? Let’s start there.” Y/n sat up, across from Drew, their legs entwined as they looked at each other.

“Well, it says they touch hesitantly so—” Drew pressed his lips quickly to hers before pulling away slightly, his eyes looking down at her lips before flicking up to meet her own gaze.

“Then…” Drew mutters, a hand coming up to rest on her neck as he hesitantly leaned in before opening his lips wide… too wide. He pressed his lips to her face, his mouth open as he nearly took a bite out of her nose which caused her to sputter a laugh into his mouth. He pulled away quickly, his eyes wide as he looked at her with a slight cough.

“What are you doing?!” Y/n laughed, wiping a bit of slobber off her mouth.

“I don’t know! I panicked! I– It said ‘like the two are trying to eat each other’ so I just went for it and—” Drew groaned. How was he supposed to do this? Let alone with a highly regarded actor and director? Why was he having such a hard time kissing his fucking girlfriend? He was usually a professional at that.

“You’re overthinking it, baby.” Y/n said, taking one of his hands. “Just… relax. It says it’s a dance. Just feel it.”

Drew nodded, running a hand through his hair quickly before straightening back up again. He took a deep breath as he brushed his lips across y/n’s lightly before pulling away. He only pulled far enough away to look at her through his thick lashes, his breath fanning across her lips before he cupped her jaw with one hand. He pulled her lips to his in a searing kiss as his other hand wrapped around her torso, pulling her flush to his chest.

The two of them continued, pushing back and forth as the kiss grew more intense and sloppy. Y/n’s hands rested on the back of Drew’s neck, her fingers burrowing in his hair as he opened his mouth widely, practically consuming each movement of her lips. Drew squeezed his eyes tightly as he continued, focusing on the moment and each and every movement the two of them made in their intricately beautiful dance. With a sudden gasp, the two of them finally pulled away from each other, gazes low, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed.

“I think you’ve got it.” Y/n whispered breathily before the two of them broke out in laughs and wide smiles. Drew pressed a quick kiss to the top of y/n’s head before falling back down on the couch, both of their chests heaving as they came down from the high of the intense moment.

“Yeah, me too.” Drew sighed.

[lackadaisycats]

I'm not trying to bug you with this, and you don't have to answer this if you don't wanna, but I heard a lot of people were against moving to Bluesky because apparently it's rampant with Nazis, but I haven't really found any proof of that.

Just wanted to share. Maybe inquire if you knew anything about that?

I have not personally encountered any Nazis there. Bluesky isn't perfect, but the noise machine of bots, trolls, disinfo accounts, and the aura of extreme negativity just really isn't present in the way it is on Twitter. So being there is just....nice. I'm sure there are some unsavory people there, and many who will try to make inroads as the platform grows, but for now, the people interested in making Bluesky a good place to be seem to vastly outnumber the bad actors. Also, Bluesky's block function is more robust and thorough, and you can block entire curated lists of people you want nothing to do with, if you so choose. (Be warned that who you have blocked is public information, though, if someone should go and check the repository.)

On a more pleasant note, there are also entire lists ("starter packs") of people to follow - indie creators, comic artists, illustrators, activists, journalists, writers of different genres, etc. You can also follow specific feeds of topics that interest you, and you can make your own feeds.

As an added blessing, posts that include outside links are not (currently) throttled like they are on other platforms. It's hard to overstate how meaningful that is for creators trying to get eyes on their portfolios and other work that can't be shared directly within a post.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

you sighed heavily, zoning out on some of the elaborate wallpaper in front of you as your friend chattered on enthusiastically at your side.

last week, they had burst into your workplace with an expression so anxious you had thought something was seriously wrong. they went on to elaborate that famous director mr. reca was on penacony and having a surprise casting call and, as a member of the iris family, they just needed to go and audition but the idea of standing in front of such a well known face in the cinema world had them more panicked than they’d ever been before. whining endlessly about how they were so very nervous but couldn’t possibly miss such an opportunity, you easily picked up what exactly they wanted; you to go with them. sighing you offered your companionship partially as a good friend and partially to make the other workers stop glaring daggers, you finally chased them out the door as they promised to meet you at the studio on the weekend.

now in a long line of other actors and actresses hoping to finally get a breakthrough part, the number pinned hastily to your chest was starting to irritate you on top of not wanting to be here in the first place. agreeing so quickly was looking more like a mistake as you were realizing you had no experience or anything prepared and you’d soon be standing in front of a man who’d scrutinize your every move; a real nightmare in the dream.

it took a surprisingly short amount of time for your friend to be whisked away into the audition room with its heavy soundproof doors and you had to stand alone coming to terms with how much of a fool you’d look like. a brief thought of running flitted through your brain as you nervously tapped your foot but before any commitment to bolting could arise, you were ushered in.

the room was elegant but felt unbelievably sterile with the marble floors and delicate chandelier. behind a large wooden table stacked with folders, notes, and expensive looking pens was the man you dreaded explaining this predicament to. with piercing eyes and a predatory smile, mr. reca seemed unnervingly interested in what you’d go on to show him; nothing, unfortunately. you took your place in the centre of the room and awkwardly cleared your throat before dumping a word vomit of an apology and explanation filled with ‘i can’t act for shit,’ and ‘i’m sorry for wasting your time.’ he nodded with a low hum and seemed almost sympathetic as he tapped a finger against his lips while thinking.

“you’re here now and your… appearance… seemed perfectly suited to a personal project of mine i can’t seem to get out of my head,” his smile was unnerving in a way, “humour me and try out a couple poses at the least. such a role would come with magnificent compensation.” not the response you expected but you figured he was owed something for such a fumble. upon your agreement he had you shift into numerous positions that made your face flush with embarrassment but mr. reca seemed beyond pleased if his praise meant anything.

“magnificent. please, i’d love to have you star in a this minor film of mine. such a project will only take a few afternoons and i’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

it’s the next week when you’re at his home. he welcomes you with a neat suffocating hug and offers numerous snacks and drinks as a show of good will. it’s quite charming until he takes you to where he’s set up for the first scenes.

the room is dim, lit by ambient lighting only and silk ribbons drape across the room. in the middle is a bed covered in luxurious sheets and soft blankets with a table on each side holding a variety of lewd toys; your face is warm. mr. reca cheerfully points to every object explaining the purpose and how it’ll be used after fiddling with all the different locks on the door to successfully trap you in. suddenly you feel sweaty and your chest is tight as you shiver uncontrollably. his personal film was an adult film. he dangles the previously signed contract over your head with a promise to publicly humiliate you if you don’t, “strip and put on these pieces,” a lacy pair of panties and a bra that hides nothing. he’s throwing a pair of stockings at your chest as well before making some adjustments on his camera. with no choice, you change and pray that this will be over soon but the sinking feeling in your gut says otherwise when you see he’s undressing as well.

[vangbelsing]

I know it's been said before by many different people, but, and I truly cannot stress this enough: DO NOT harass the Dragon Age cast, DO NOT push parasocial behaviors or expectations on them, DO NOT objectify them and treat them as if they are there solely for your personal entertainment.

I have seen people - especially in the bg3 fandom - harass people over their "treatment" of a character, only to then violate the boundaries of the actor that portrays them. There are so many instances of the character being treated better than the person behind them.

Keep in mind that these are REAL PEOPLE who have their own lives, thoughts experiences and values, and their feelings matter a lot more than someone's need to feel sexually gratified at their expense. So let's not conflate sexualizing a person against their wishes with "appreciating their work".

Remember: the fictional characters they portray are not real, they have no thoughts, agency or feelings, so you can say whatever you like about them, because they don't exist and don't have boundaries to cross. But the actors who play those characters are real and you cannot treat them as you would the character themselves.

Andrew Wincott, the actor for Raphael in bg3, had to deal with fans acting as if they were entitled to his time, his promotions and overall his general attention. And Neil Newbon, who has been nothing but lovely and very kind to his fans, repeatedly told people how uncomfortable they had started to make him before taking action after it went too far for too long.

So, in closing:

DON'T BE PARASOCIAL WITH THE DA:TV CAST, DON'T SEXUALIZE THEM, AND RESPECT THEIR BOUNDARIES BECAUSE THEY ARE REAL PEOPLE AND THEY DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING!!

[haikyu-mp4]

You're not actors

Fluffy workplace romance as a streamer with your secret husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @dira333. word count; 837 – f!reader

Kenma loves his wedding ring. It’s just a piece of metal, but the matching one on your finger makes him giddy whenever he sees it, even if he doesn’t usually tell you that.

Unfortunately, he has to take it off for work. Your relationship wasn’t public, so he would rather not awaken any suspicions by showing his ring on camera. He’s a private person, preferring not to have everyone asking questions about his personal life.

You have separate streaming rooms on either end of the house so no noise would overlap, and so far everything ran smoothly. Sometimes, you would have to remind him about the ring as he kisses you before heading to his streaming room, and sometimes he remembers it himself. 

And sometimes you both forget.

This time, Kenma started the stream with his ring sitting snug on his finger and as time passed, he simply couldn’t move past this one level. It frustrated him to the point of running his hands through his hair and groaning at the seemingly impossible task. As the light from the screen hit metal, it glinted in the camera.

That’s how the speculations started. Is Kodzuken married? He never answers questions about his relationship status…

You’re a streamer too, often seen doing collabs with Kenma but never in person. You worried either of you might forget to act not in love while the viewers are literally observing your every move.

This time, you streamed alone. You recently started a Stardew Valley series where the viewers got to follow the progress with your fun commentary. It was very entertaining and gained you many more followers.

And Kenma knew you were streaming, so it was difficult to hide your surprise when a shattering sound ran through the house and someone hissed “Shit!”

Pausing the stream, you ran into the living room to find your husband surrounded by broken glass and spilt soda with a sheepish look. After sweeping some of it away and making sure he was okay, you hurried back to the stream and started it again to keep playing.

You pursed your lips, trying to act as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, you’re a YouTuber, not an actor.

That’s how the speculations started. Who does she live with? Is she in a secret relationship?

Following these two unfortunate events, you had no choice but to do the collab you had planned, as skipping it would seem suspicious. So just like normal, you both opened the shooter game and acted like you usually would while playing together, as if the comments weren’t bombarding you with these different rumours and some suggested your rumours were related to each other.

While you swore like a sailor at anything disadvantageous during the game, Kenma fell into the bad habit of watching your stream instead of his game, heart eyes evident to anyone who had eyes themselves. He would eventually sober up, getting revenge on anyone who went against you and then killing you so he could win alone.

His soft voice in your headphones made a shiver run down your spine and you wished the watchers were lying when they said Kodzuken is the only one you don’t curse at.

There were several heart eyes during this stream, and it was not just in the comments.

You both stood in the kitchen a couple of days (read nights) later. Kenma had accidentally woken you up by stubbing his toe on the bed and you demanded snacks so he pulled you along to the kitchen. The two of you talked about your latest work adventures or friend gossip while tapping your feet on the cold floors, a plate of apple pie in each of your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kenma said, holding his hand up when he knew you were about to say something like I’m happy you told me or else I’d miss it. “Maybe we should just tell everyone.”

When you looked confused, he flipped his hand around, wiggling his fingers to show off the wedding ring as emphasis. Your eyes widened. “That’s a pretty big thought, buddy, good job.”

He snorted, scooping up another piece of cake and feeding it to you. “I’m serious.”

“But I kinda like watching you try to keep it a secret,” you teased again before stepping closer and pressing light kisses along his jaw. Kenma sighed, pusring his lips and looking away with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I might have just said I have a wife on livestream.”

Flashback to a couple of hours before, when some, probably thirteen-year-old, boy commented on Kenma’s apparent lack of rizz. A gen-Z concept Kenma had no interest in taking part in, but felt weirdly offended by.

“Bet you dont even pull, all the marridge rumors are so stupd.”

He would never admit out loud that it hit a nerve, but you wouldn’t need him to. It was evident. “You should see my wife, noob. She’s fucking gorgeous and plays better than whatever you pull.”

masterlist

/thank you @cottonlemonade for brainstorming with me<3

[etherealmelodys]

Choi Su-Bong/ Thanos

NSFW Alphabet

Warning: Talks of oral, penetrative sex, squirting, dacryphilia, mentions of drugs, Thanos just being himself.

A/N: ong I'm sick of ppl writing Thanos like he's abusive, my purple haired king would never!! But tbh he's lucky he ain't real or I'd suck the skin right off his dick ykwim

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Contrary to popular belief, I don't think he'd be that bad at aftercare. He's not amazing at it don't get me wrong, but he's not gonna just leave you alone with nothing. He definitely might offer you some sort of drug he's got on his roster, but I believe he'd clean you up and make sure that you're feeling okay and get confirmation that he wasn't too rough with you.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part on you and themselves)

Nobody can tell me that this man isn't obsessed with his tongue oml. To him, it's a gift from the gods that he gets to use it to taste every part of you. From your soft lips to your breasts, all the way down to your cunt. He's an ass man oh my. He loves the way it jiggles when he fucks you from behind, how soft and smooth it is when he grips it while you ride him.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

You cannot tell me this man doesn't love cumming all over your back or ass. He's obsessed with the way it slides down the curve of your ass, coating his thighs in the substance. He adores how messy the whole process is, wanting to see you covered in just him, it could get him higher than any drug he's tried.

D - Dirty Secret ( Self-explanatory)

He just wants one night where he can do whatever he wants to your tits. Whether it be playing with your nipples, leaving hickeys on them, massaging them, or more importantly squishing them together and fucking them, his tip going between your plump lips every time he thrusts up into them.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

Did y'all see all the people that swarmed him once they knew who he was? Imagine what it was like outside the games. He is well-experienced when it comes to fucking someone, but not having an intimate moment with another person.

F - Favorite Position (What positions do they like the most?)

He loves any position that puts him in a position of control. He loves reverse cowgirl especially because it gives him full access to the sight of your ass. He's also a fan of doggy style, again due to the sight he gets of your ass but also because of how deep he can get in that position.

G - Goofy (How serious are they in the moment? Do they tease you?)

He is teasing the shit outta you I'm so sorry. I don't think he has the capability not to tease you. It just gets him so worked up seeing your eyes well up with tears at his comments, it just makes his cock throb.

H - Hair (What’s the hair situation down there)

I honestly cannot decide with him. For one he gives off the vibes that he's bald down there, finding the hair to be an annoyance. But also I don't think he'd care enough about it to shave it and just let it grow. For the sake of the argument, I'm just gonna say he shaves his shit bald.

I - intimacy (How romantic are they in the moment?)

I feel like there are some times when he can be very romantic if you need it. Usually, he's the type to go rough and fast. But occasionally he can be slow and sensual, giving you gentle kisses and touches, treating you as if you were the most delicate thing he's ever handled.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

He jacks off very frequently, about every other day tbh. I don't think he'd do it to porn often, and if he did it would be to an actor who looks like you. But most of the time he does it to the memory of you, whether it be you grinding down on his face making those pretty noises he loves so much, or him fucking into you, your whines the only thing he can hear besides the slapping of your skin against his.

K - Kinks (What are their kinks?)

You cannot tell me this man isn't into Exhibitionism. He loves the idea of you guys almost getting caught in the middle of the act, he swears he feels himself get even harder at the sight of you trying to quiet yourself down in an attempt to not get caught. He's also into dacryphilia, seeing you cry from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's causing you makes him cum right on the spot.

L - Location (Where do they prefer to have sex?)

He would be into anything public, bathroom stalls, fingering you under a table, having you bounce on his dick in a dark crowded club, he's into it all.

M - Motivation (What turns them on?)

Seeing you in any type of revealing clothing, especially skirts, immediately gets him hard. Seeing you in lingerie is by far the sexiest thing you could wear in front of him. He'd want you to keep it on as he bends you over, pulling the lingerie to the side and eating you out to his heart's content.

N - No (What are some things they’ll never do?)

He's not really into the whole submissive role, he always wants to be the one in charge, at least during any sexual interaction. He's also not into doing anything that can seriously harm you.

O - Oral (How do they feel about oral? Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

I don't think he has a preference between the two. He loves the sight of you on your knees, trying to fit his cock in your mouth, tears in the corner of your eyes due to the brutal pace he's set fucking your face. But he also adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head, unintentionally pulling him closer to your cunt. The feeling of it pulsing around his tongue when he finally makes you cum, the little whines and moans you let out from the overstimulation.

P - Pace (How fast/slow are they?)

He's fast with his pace, he swears he can't help himself. The feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock, practically begging him to pound you into the mattress with all the force he can muster. It's your fault for feeling so damm good.

Q - Quickie (How do they feel about quickies?)

He loves them so much! He's usually busy writing his songs or in the studio recording, so quickies are always a yes for him.

R - Risk (How willing are they to experiment? Do they take any risks?)

He loves experimenting, but he's usually the one to initiate it due to his impulsive behavior. If it’s something you're not willing to try he'd absolutely respect that. But if you brought something up? Oh baby he's down to do whatever as long as it doesn't put either of you in danger. Wanna try out bondage? Go ahead and get comfortable because you'll be tied up for a while.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they do? How long can they go for?)

When he's not high out of his mind, he doesn't go that many rounds usually 2 will be enough to get him tired. But when he's off some? Ooh boy you better prepare yourself. This man is a beast when he pops a pill, you'll be so exhausted by the time he's finished. Expect around 4-5 rounds with him before he's all out of energy.

T - Toys (Do they have any toys? Are they willing to use any?)

I don't think he has that many to be frank, at most he has a vibrator or two, maybe a cock ring if you wanna be bold. I think he's so cocky and confident about his skills that he finds them to be unnecessary. Sometimes if you're having trouble cumming he’ll take one out and use it on you, but it always gets out of hand due to the fact that he wants to see you squirt from the toy. “Cmon baby, I know you can do it. Don't you wanna make me happy? I know it'll feel so good for you so just relax and squirt all over this toy”

U - Unfair (Do they tease you? How unfair are they in the bedroom?)

I fear this man is the biggest teaser throughout the whole show. He'd find a way to tease you about anything and everything. In the bedroom you are not getting a MOMENT of peace. This man will edge you and overstimulate you all in the same night. He’ll find a way to tease you about the noises you make, saying “Aww baby, you're being so loud! Am I making you feel that good? Don't be shy, you can admit that I'm the best at making you cum.”

V - Volume (How loud are they?)

He's not too loud when it comes to his noises, just occasional growl and grunt. He's definitely into dirty talk though, a lot of it. You'll hear him say stuff like “That's my good bitch, taking my cock up her cunt like the good girl she is. Don't worry baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good you won't know what to do with yourself.”

W - Weird Fact (Self-explanatory)

He's always wanted someone to do a line of coke off his cock while he was hard.

X - X Ray (What’s it looking like in those pants.)

He's about 5’11, a little on the thinner side, but he's still toned. I think he's a lot girthier than he is long, so about 5.7 inches, but his girth makes up for it. His tip color is a deeper pink color, around #E0676B. He has a slight curve down, with a thick vein running down the left side of his shaft.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How often do they have sex?)

This man wants to do it with you every day. Not only is it the drugs that get him worked up, but just seeing you looking so damn sexy just being yourself, he could take you anytime anywhere, regardless of who's around.

Z - Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after sex?)

I feel like he falls asleep very fast. After he's done making sure you're okay, he's slumped. He is not the type to wait for you to sleep first before he does.

(I've cooked with this one guys I cannot even lie. Thank you all sm for the recent support! I truly appreciate all the attention my work has gotten!)

Taglist:

@xera4170

[fixated-cookies]

Smc x reader where he got out from the game as a human and have his way with reader?

Self aware cookie run kingdom incoming?!?!?! reminds me of the self aware genshin au, especially the cult au (yes I was heavily into genshin, its apart of me) hmm...this may be short

Yandere content, smut incoming

When Shadow Milk Cookie first becomes aware that he’s trapped in a game, he likely sees it as just another form of control. But his obsession with you would magnify that need to escape. At first, he might not even understand the full extent of his obsession; it’s just a nagging thought, a feeling of attachment whenever he feels you, whether it’s in passing or in a brief encounter. Over time, however, the pull grows stronger, his mind unable to get you out of his thoughts. He doesn't know what exactly what you look like per se, but in his rare dream that he has, he sees a being. The one that puppeteers everything behind the scenes You, in his eyes, are the ultimate prize—someone that can break through his walls, someone who doesn’t see the deceptive nature of his world, or at least doesn’t care. And that’s exactly what makes you so enthralling to him. To him, you’re a symbol of both freedom and control—freedom from the confines of his trickster world, but also control because, in his mind, you could bend him to your will. He can't have that can he?

Realizing he’s in a game would frustrate him deeply, especially since he’s a character who’s always been in control. Shadow Milk Cookie would find this self-awareness unbearable—how could he have been the one pulling the strings all this time, only to discover he’s nothing but a piece on someone else’s chessboard? But he wants to be free, not just for himself, but to have you by his side, to make you his forever.

Shadow Milk Cookie would be desperate to escape, plotting at all hours of the day, trying to manipulate his world, the rules, even the player. He would attempt anything, from subtle tweaks to outright attempting to break the game. If he’s clever enough, he might even find a way to bend the game’s rules, creating cracks where he could potentially slip through—just to get to you. His speech bubbles change, becoming more personal as time goes on. Even his voice, the one that was 'supplied' by a voice actor, starts to take on tones that weren't there before. The idea of showing you his love in the real world would fuel his every move. He wants to break free so that he can give you the love he’s been hiding, show you the full extent of his obsession. He’s convinced that if you’re alone with him, without the constraints of the game, you’ll see how deep his feelings run, how much he needs you. Finally, after countless attempts, he succeeds. The world of the game begins to distort, cracks appear in the very fabric of his reality, and with a final burst of effort, Shadow Milk Cookie breaks free. Now, he’s standing in the real world, the one that he’s been dreaming of, the one where you’re no longer just a character in the game but a real person he can touch, hold, and claim.

After he crawls through that awfully small screen, he ignores your cries of shock and fear. Imagine him standing before you, towering and commanding, yet there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a brief moment where his internal conflict plays out. The tension builds, the silence thick with unspoken words. He steps closer, his breath warm against your skin, and when his hand gently grabs your face—holding it with a possessive yet tender touch—it’s as though he’s trying to memorize every detail of you. His gaze locks with yours, studying you as if seeing you for the first time, now that he’s free to act on his own desires. That flicker of vulnerability fades, replaced with an almost satisfied hum, as if he’s finally found what he’s been searching for. "Good..." he whispers then In one swift motion, his lips crash into yours, a feverish kiss filled with long-awaited passion, his hands tightening their grip. The kiss isn’t just an expression of affection—it’s his way of making sure you’re truly there, with him, and not some fleeting moment in the game. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes, once a playful spark of mischief in the game, are now dark and intense. His hands, trembling slightly but controlled with purpose, begin to tear at the fabric of your clothing. Each rip feels like an echo of his desire for control, for possession, for a world where he is no longer confined to the screen but can act on the darkness within him. As he presses you down into the bed, your eyes meet. His are cold, unyielding—an abyss of obsession and twisted affection. Your heart races, the fear coursing through your veins, but you cannot look away. His gaze holds you captive, and in that brief, agonizing silence, the only sound is the frantic beat of your own pulse. Hes oddly silent, oddly focused. His fingers trail over your skin, the coolness of his touch contrasting sharply with the warmth of your body. When he presses his lips to the inside of your neck, the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. The coolness of his kiss feels almost like ice, but the fire of his desire burns in each gentle, lingering touch. His cock presses against his pants in the excitement of finally having you under him. His eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, have lost their usual glint of mischief. They’re unfocused, almost tired, as if he's struggling to keep himself grounded in this reality, like he's still trying to figure out what it means to be here with you, in person. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for something, perhaps some sign that this is real and not just another one of his elaborate illusions. Pressing one last cool kiss to your lips before adjusting his pants, and pressing his forehead against yours. “You feel it too, don’t you?” His voice is low, heavy with something you can't quite place. “You can't deny it…” His words trail off, and you can feel the weight of them. His hands come to rest on your waist, his grip firm, leaving an impression on your soft skin as if trying to pull you closer. He mumbles as he presses his cock against your entrance, slowly pushing in until he feels his tip push against your cervix. His lips brush against your temple, a barely-there touch, but you can feel the way his chest rises and falls erratically. Each breath, each thrust seems like a struggle, but he’s trying so hard to keep his composure. His body is rigid, as if holding back something primal, and yet the more he fights it, the more it spills over in small, erratic rolls of hips. The heat between you both intensifies, and he shifts, his face inches from yours, but he doesn’t kiss you again—not yet.

Instead, he lets his forehead rest against yours, his breath shaky and uneven, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he holds you, like he’s trying to keep from losing control. The silence between you is thick, the kind of silence that says more than words ever could. It’s almost suffocating, but you can’t look away, can’t move—frozen by the intensity of the moment, by the force of his presence.

--

I dont know where i was going with this to be honest, I had options of writing like some rabid dog over reader or him feeling conflicted about his findings. So I chose the latter, I think all of us would go a little crazy after finding out your just code, then somehow manifesting a physical form and obsessing over your 'true' creator... also I may be taking a break for a day or two just to get my creativity flowing again, I think I'm burning out slightly (DONT WORRY) I just notice a pattern of me putting all my energy into the beginning of works only to burn out halfway throughout the end which lowers the quality sorry ya'll lol

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “this world is full of cruel humans.. I’m sorry.”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!seunghyun x fem!reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff with angst! doubts, worries, and fears.

୨ৎ summary: it felt like the entire world hated seunghyun. mistakes are just a human thing and no human on planet earth can be perfect.. but with him in the spotlight as a idol and actor? fans expect the most outrageous expectations. you’re different and you’ve accepted all of his past mistakes because of the love and adoration you have for him.

୨ৎ from myeong: hi there! so excited to write this for you since this has been such a sensitive topic for years now. he’s such a gentle man that deserves all the love and support! hope you enjoy this x

“I think you’re the only one who can help him during this hard time.. please do something?” you stood at the doorstep of your home that was shared with seunghyun, your boyfriend. hanging up the phone without saying another word to taeyang your cold hand grabbed ahold of the knob and pushed it opened allowing yourself into the quiet home. calling out for him was no use because he’d stay put in that same position in your room not saying a single word. what do you do? there was no plan. there was no backup plan. you had no idea how to fix this even if his best friend said you’d be the one to do so. a sigh left your lips and a hand reached up to push back the strands of hair that fell in front of your face as you stared at the floor for the longest time—hoping something would come to mind.

silently making your way through the quiet and almost eerie home, you stopped at the door of your shared room with him and leaned in to listen. sobs? the sound of his deep sobs could be heard and you pushed opened the door immediately not needing any of this to continue happening. the pure agony this man had been in for so many years that’s still continuing was not okay and you weren’t going to keep sitting back and watching. “seunghyun..” your voice was a whisper and your knees hit the hardwood floor beneath you, arms wrapping around his larger body pulling him into your chest and pressing your head against his own. his sobs didn’t stop there and he continued to cry in your arms until his breathing was uneven and it was time you do something about this finally. “shh.. I’m here, okay? I’m here for you. this world is full of cruel humans.. I’m sorry.” is all you said before pressing a sweet kiss to his temple and letting your hand to rub his back just the way he had always liked it when you did it. seunghyun remained silent not sure what else to say other than you were right and he should’ve been staying off the internet. it was nothing but a pool of hate, threats, and insults. why would anyone want to read such things about themselves? he wasn’t sure why he continued to do it but he hoped so badly he would see support.

“if I didn’t have you I’m not sure what I would do.” his deep voice started you briefly but the tone was so calm and sweet. even during a time like this he couldn’t push you away no matter how badly he wanted too. his old habits of being a cold hearted man was long gone when you came around and it was so hard to be that way again but he wasn’t complaining. you changed him as a person and he was beyond thankful for it. “you know, I should’ve listened when you told me to get off the internet. at times like this it feels like I should’ve stayed away for good.” and that was a cruel thing to say, especially to those who have waited for him and are supporting him more than anything. you shook his head and moved to sit in front of him forcing him to look at you. his eyes were red and swollen, skin stained with tears, and his hands shook with such anxiety.

your small hands grabbed ahold of his much larger hands and held them in a tight protective manner, eyes staring back at his and trying so desperately to show how much you adored him. he didn’t have to worry about losing you or his supporters when he was the most kindest and smartest man. “don’t be so selfish seunghyun and you know I’m telling you this in the kindest way possible. there is so many that are supporting you during this important time of you finally coming back to the spotlight. I know it’s.. or—I know it seems like it’s more negative than positive but I won’t let you believe that. you’re only human and can’t be perfect. that’s not possible.” tears began to fill his eyes again and he was quick to wipe them away but your hand gently reached up to pull his hand away so you were able to hold his cheek in your palm wiping away anymore tears that threatened to spill from his kind, sweet, and genuine eyes. you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek before pressing another kiss to his other cheek, then his perfect nose, each thick eyebrow, his forehead, and lastly his lips. when your lips pressed against his own he couldn’t help but to laugh and it was the sweetest sound to hear. you giggled with him and pressed a few more pecks to his lips before his large hands grabbed ahold of your face bringing you back in where he was able to deepen the kiss. the innocent kiss turned into a make out session that lasted quite a while.. but you didn’t complain. you two could do this and stop without anything else happening. why? because he loved your lips so much. to seunghyun kissing was so important and such a sweet gesture.

“I love you and.. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.” the apology wasn’t something you wanted to hear. sure.. for a few weeks now your relationship with him had been unstable. arguments after arguments and you staying at taeyang’s or daesung’s was happening way too much. seunghyun not only stressed about his career and what was going to happen but he was in no position to lose you and you didn’t blame him nor were you going to let him have the past bother him. “shh. no more speaking about something that’s old news, yeah? let’s skip ahead into the future. why don’t we watch some fan edits that I’ve been wanting to show you! and the girlies on x really adore you. they’re so funny too! want to have a look with me?” seunghyun’s thin lips curled up into the brightest smile and you thought it was all a dream. it’s been weeks of hell and it’s finally ended for now. of course there was no stopping the hate and negativity but helping was the best you could do and you were going to work hard at doing everything you could.

[pedrosman]

"Let them see."

pairing: Pedro Pascal x male reader

summary: You and Pedro are on the set of Gladiator 2, but he pulls you away for some time alone.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Pedro Pascal RPF (real person fiction), unprotected sex, bot! reader, first person, p in a, kissing, swearing, anal, fingering, hand over mouth, analingus, creampie, public sex, partial nudity, dom Pedro, sub reader, aggressive, overstimulation, hickeys, fake blood

word count: just under 4000

A/N: I tried writing with "you" instead of "I" for this one. Let me know how it reads and what you prefer!!

By midday, you were done with the sweltering heat in Morocco. The sun’s ever-beaming presence had forced your energy into a restless state, unable to do anything but sweat as you watched Pedro work, seemingly oblivious to the sun's downpour of heat onto the Earth. His film, Gladiator II, had placed him in an extremely demanding state; his scenes today consisting heavily of action, fighting energetically and unapologetically. Sure, he was drenched with sweat, but his energy didn’t drop a tick, working with determination. You felt bad, his costume a thick, heavy, black leather suit of armour. You could not fathom how he hadn’t fallen unconscious by now. 

Finally, after a particularly bloody fight scene, leaving him drenched in fake blood, the directors called a break. Immediately, you moved towards him, following behind as he and the other actors moved towards their tents, accumulating in the largest and coolest one. Slipping inside, you moved towards Pedro, locating him through his loud and wheezing laugh, until you found him with his back turned, speaking to a few people working on the film. You stood there for a few seconds, unwanting to have to force yourself into conversation with people you barely know. It was awkward, hovering around on set, waiting around for Pedro. But it was worth it. He was worth it. The way he made you smile and laugh every time he spotted you and pulled a discreet but low-key obvious face at you made up for all the hours of standing around in pools of sweat. 

You watched as he spoke energetically with the others, laughing freely, unconstrained in demeanour. His presence brooded comfort, and slowly, you made your way closer towards Pedro, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You felt his body shift and turn until he was looking down at you, his height and broad shoulders encompassing your entire eyesight. Immediately, his smile welled into a large grin, the sides of his eyes crinkling, full of glee. Pedro pulled you into a hug, enwrapping your body with his, chuckling into your ear.

“I missed you,” he said, smiling down at your face. You felt your cheeks blush, holding his hand sheepishly. He gripped it tighter, pulling you near him. He smelt like he usually did, but new notes of leather from his outfit, and a small plastic scent from the fake blood. His eyes stared into yours, deep, affectionate, and wanting. You felt his thumb run over the top of your hand, focusing completely on you, the world a void around you. Sounds were impermanent, passing around you like a thick oil. You were ensheathed, engrossed, devoted to Pedro.

“Can I show you a place?” He asked, his voice hopeful. “It’s not far, I promise.”

“Okay.”

—--

He pulled you into a small alcove in the current set, hidden from the general view of anyone who might pass by. He had dragged you across the set despite your cries of protest in disrupting the space, promising that nothing bad would happen. Exposed under the heat, you couldn’t help in your sun-drunk state but stare at the flash of his bare thighs underneath his leather belt, the cords rippling around his figure, gifting a flew glances of bare skin. They entranced you, teasing your already semi-hard penis. In the alcove, you were hidden from the sun, but it was bright enough to see Pedro. He laid back against the stone wall, his costume engrossing him into the space, and you watched as his chest heaved, his shoulders heavy from the heat. 

“Im not wearing anything under this,” he said, his head still tilted upwards but his eyes downwards, searching you. “The heat is unbearable.”

“I can tell,” you say, moving closer to him, resting your hands on his waist.

“Fuck. Is it that noticeable?” Pedro says, eyes wide, suddenly aware of his partial nudity.

“Only to me,” you whisper, leaning up to his ear. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hips are touching, his firm grip on you locking you in place. Slowly, he dips his head, moving his lips closer to you. Pedro’s lips tease you, grazing against yours in the proximity.

“I’m only for you.”

Pedro’s soft whisper of confirmation breaks the barrier of your lips, cascading you with lust. Fervently, you and Pedro press into each other, tongues dancing, sending small shocks into your body. You moan into him, your mouth pressing into his with desperation. Your body felt fuzzy, your senses dwarfed by Pedro’s intoxicating presence. You were drunk on him, engorged with him. He made out with fury, his dark beard scratching into your skin, its coarse ends stabbing into you in the best possible way. His moustache pressed into your top lip, pushing your skin into the perfect mould. 

You could taste the fake blood that had settled on the left side of his lip, it’s plastic taste pulling you away.

The departure of your lips against his left Pedro bewildered, his shocked face almost comical in his costume.

“What's wrong?” He whispered, and you noticed how his eyes gleamed in the shadows, the dark hazel tint rebounding the sun's glow off the floor.

“The blood. I don’t want to smudge it.” You whisper, suddenly aware of the context that surrounds you. This felt wrong, but Pedro was so good.

“Who cares?” he replied, a small smile lining his face. He stepped closer, pushing you lightly onto the cold stone wall behind you. Its chill sent a rush throughout your body, a stark contrast to the heat that surrounded you. His hand pressed against your shoulder kept you in place, his dominant presence chipping away at your dignity, forcing you to submit. You watched as he ran a finger across his face, coating his finger in the fake blood that had either mixed with your saliva or his sweat. You let out a small protest and he began tracing his finger across your face, staining your skin with the fake blood.

“Let them see.”

He kissed you with a fury, his entire body pressing into you, overpowering you. You could do nothing but attempt to keep up, his tongue pressing into yours with a vigour. He growled into you as he rubbed his body over yours, grinding his waist into your stomach. Even through the leather that dotted his thighs, you could feel the straining hard-on that he burdened. His hand cupped your chin, pulling your face into his as you kissed. They were sweaty, but he gripped you with a firm passion, his fingertips branding your skin with deep red marks from how tightly he held onto your face. Pedro’s eyes were closed, wholly engrossed with your lips. He growled as you made out, the animalistic noise making your knees weak, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright.

 It felt as if there was a supernatural presence pushing you down to your knees, head parallel to Pedro’s cock. As he let you move lower down his body, you admired how Pedro looked as General Acacius. The black outfit, the aggressive appearance, it was too much. Paired with how easily you submit to Pedro, he was astoundingly breathtaking. He looked perfect. Just the sight of him made your cock throb in your shorts, and it throbbed even harder when you pressed a gentle hand onto the bulge of the leather tunic. It responded in excitement, bouncing at your touch, grinding into your hand.

 Desperately, you pawed through the leather strips, feeling for his cock. The leather was heavy, weighing into your hand, but his cock pushed them upwards, acting as a rest for the strips. You pushed blindly, but even a blind man could have easily located his cock. Touching the underside of his member, you revelled in its sheer size, its length and extreme girth. Your soft touch sent shivers across Pedro’s body, his head bowing, staring at the top of your head. Wrapping your hand around as much of his member as you could, you felt his body release a deep exhale. As you began stroking achingly slow, Pedro began to sweat even more, his forehead furrowed and glistening. Within the tunic, your hand was clammy, and your movements across his cock become more slick by the second. Moving your hand, you cupped his balls. They hung low from his body, you could tell, but their weight relayed the fact that Pedro had been without an orgasm for days, waiting for you, waiting for this. Pedro was always exhausted by the end of a shoot day, so, at midday, he still had the libido you were accustomed to. 

With a necessity, you pushed at the leather strips, leaving his cock exposed in the dim light. The sight of his throbbing, glossy member sent a shiver directly to your cock, practically tearing at the seams of your shorts. Pedro’s dick was leaking precum like a geyser, coating his head, running down the underside of his piece. You admired how it throbbed with fury, its weight pulling his uncut tip downwards, practically begging for your mouth. Complying with Pedro’s obvious need, you placed your lips on his tip, tasting his precum as if it were a Michelin-star meal. Its sweet flavour swirled across your lips as he throbbed, and you smiled as you lowered your head down his cock. The heavy grunts that emanated from Pedro’s body above drove you further, pushing you deeper. You were eager to swallow all of him, no matter how badly his size made your jaw ache. You felt yourself choking as you tried to take him all in your mouth, but you pushed deeper, struggling to keep your breath regulated. You huffed his scent the closer you got to his waist, the tips of his pubic hair tickling your nose.

 Above you, Pedro struggled to remain quiet, aware of his location, but unable to hinder his noises from your mouth around his cock. He let out a succession of moans, low and hoarse. He was sweating profusely, the fake blood running down his face, his hair becoming more matted by the second. He watched your struggle in a darkened awe, watching your willingness to please him. He watched as you struggled to breathe, sparking an animalistic joy within him. Pedro’s eyes were dark, fueled by lust and hunger. You were his prey, and he was ready to absolutely wreck you.

Pulling your head off his cock, spools of spit covered the distance between the tip of his member and your lips. You gathered your composure, air finally flowing back into your lungs again.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Looking up at Pedro, you noticed how much his demeanour had changed. Instead of the cheery, easygoing person that was publicly fronted, you now saw him: A sex-driven, lustful beast. His breath was heavy and short, and his eyes were sharp, unsympathetic. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He repeated, his voice heavier, no longer asking. Demanding.

Immediately, you wrapped your lips around his cock, and lowered your face down his cock. You began sucking with a need, sucking your cheeks in, running your tongue on the underside of his girth, tracing intricate patterns, invisible letters of devotion.

His sudden grip on your short hair locked you in place. He was rough, pushing you down his cock in a fluid motion. Pedro had entrapped you, his hands restricting unwanted movement. Your lips could not leave his cock. 

Pedro began to move your head with a rhythm, rocking your head up and down his as if it were an object. You struggled to adjust to his speed, but you revelled in the way he easily overpowered you. You could taste the sweat that lined his skin, a salt flavour that contrasted with his sweet precum nicely. He hit the back of your throat with a satisfying push, his cock’s rock-hard state breaking your throat into his shape. You moaned in symphony with Pedro, your mind fazed from the heat, and your body intoxicated with his taste. He began to thrust himself, filling your mouth with his member. He pushed against the back of your mouth, teasing your gag reflex, muffling your moans with his cock. He thrust into you desperately, jacking his cock off with your face. His hands were tight around your head, his sweat matting your hair, locking itself around his hands. His cock was relentless, hitting the back of your throat with a driving force, fucking up your jaw. It ached, but you pushed past the feeling, absorbing his precum and getting high off his sweaty musk, overpowering from his hours of work in the heat.

 Pedro’s thrusts quickly increased in pace as he huffed heavily above you, the noises not coming to fruition, stuck at the back of his throat. He was hoarse, his noises dry and stifled, but he fucked you with rage, the leather tassels slapping into your face with disregard.

Suddenly, his cock left your mouth completely as his body tensed up. You felt his thighs clench, holding off his orgasm, as his cock throbbed, bouncing in the warm air. The veins were dark, his cock head a deep purple.

“Turn Around.”

As soon as you stood up, he pushed you against the cold wall and yanked at your shorts until they fell to the ground. Harshly, he dug at your hole through your briefs, applying deep pressure, making your body shiver. Your cock felt heavy, straining at your briefs, creating a damp tent. You jumped as he ran his hand down the waistband of your briefs, running his fingers over your asscheek, brushing up against your hole. Pulling away your briefs, he left your entire backside exposed, your hole winking up at him, desperate, needy. 

Pedro’s stubble against your bare skin felt insane. The coarse ends scratched at your sensitivity, and you gasped when you felt his tongue run over your hole. He toyed with you, savouring his treat with delight. He kissed your hole passionately, his soft lips a burning sensation that spread directly into the head of your member. His tongue darted in and out tentatively, willing moans of desire from the back of your throat. You whimpered into him, knees weak, as he slowly began stretching you out, his tongue pushing deep, sometimes replaced with a finger, sometimes two. Pedro was deliberate to avoid your prostate, having fucked you too many times that he knew exactly where to please you. He wanted you to feel it all when his cock was balls deep inside you, not just his fingers. But still, the mere presence of Pedro made you insanely close to orgasm, your entire body a loosely contained tingle. You felt like you were high, his roughened hands pushing into you, prepping you for a thorough fuck.

Feeling him move behind you, you timidly began to turn your top, arching to look at him. But before you could even lock eyes, you felt Pedro thrust his entire length into you. The sudden presence pushed your body into the wall, too weak to do anything but take it. He thrust slowly, willing a small moan out of your body. You felt the heat rush up to your face, being so close to complete visibility. Your entire body shook, unprepared for his length, for the heat that rose into your stomach. You could feel his cock resting on your prostate, prompting small moans with every small jerk of movement from Pedro’s body. As his thrusts pushed deeper, rubbing along your prostate, you couldn't help but moan wildly, your cock throbbing with each grind of his cock. 

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stifle the noises streaming out of your mouth like a desperate plea, bouncing around your hideaway, reverberating out into the world. You whimpered, extremely aware of your state, half-clothed, with Pedro balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion. He, on the other hand, was cold, controlled. His moans were mere whispers, promises of confirmation, paired with the unmistakable sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

His hand over your mouth felt like a blessing. He pulled your head back, your back arched as he fucked you. Your hands left the wall, instead moving to your cock, but he slapped them away. Instead, you resorted to grabbing his arm in front of your face, weighing on it as if it were a piece of debris in an open sea. Your knees were weak, your legs numb as he pounded you, desperately gripping his arm, keeping you from falling.

His cock was relentless, pushing at your inner walls with the rage of his role. He attacked you methodically, his tempo unwavering. His moans into your ear were blindingly hot, the low growl moving directly into your throbbing cock. You pulsed with an urgency, jolted by each thrust against your prostate. His cock pushed into your inner walls forcefully, his heat burning his shape into you, like a wax mould. 

You moaned into his hand desperately, your breathing heavy and stifled. Pedro’s thrusts were deep, intertwining your bodies in a hushed chorus, a coveted sermon of lust. You loved being his, being used in this way, even if it meant risking your dignity. With every move of his cock reaching inside you, it felt like a promise. You were completely his. He owned you. And he definitely took advantage of that. Every glance at you on set had caused your cock to stir, his presence alone making you weak at the knees. And now he was knee-deep inside you, making you completely crumble under his hand.

His thrusts increased in speed, making your state even more dire. Your cock bounced wildly, thrown about by his movements in par with yours. Your thighs were locked together, tensed as you desperately held back your orgasm. Pedro’s small grunts had increased in volume, his movements more driven, more intense. He cursed into your ear, degrading you into his bitch, his slut, and you whimpered in agreement, too entranced by your pleasure to even comprehend what he said.  The sudden pressure from his lips on your neck threw you back to reality, the small pain of him latching himself onto you. He began to brand your skin with small bruises as he pummeled into you, closening his orgasm.

His hot kisses on your neck felt like a searing iron, the pain driving you closer to your limit. Between moans, you pleaded to Pedro, but his firm grip over your mouth left your words incomprehensible. He fucked you wildly, his cock a sledgehammer inside you, tearing at your walls, breaking down what little composure you had left. You were so close, and each thrust pulled you further away from reality. You didn’t feel anything but his cock driving into you and his attack on your neck, and you screamed against his hand in pleasure.

Nearing your orgasm, you felt his presence inside you even more, pushing into your lust-driven state, until you burst.

Your entire body shook, your cock bucking wildly as your hot white semen splattered onto the floor. Your back arched with ferocity, Pedro’s member still ramming into you. You felt your inner walls pulsate around his cock, its rock-hard state still pushing into your prostate, provoking a sixth splatter of come, then a seventh, then an eighth. You cried out, your fingers digging into his arm desperately. Your legs shook with the strength of your orgasm, and how Pedro still endlessly fucked your hole. Your chest heaved, desperate for breath, your synapses firing on overdrive, your body unable to comprehend even more pleasure from Pedro’s movements. Each kiss on your neck overtook your body as each of his speedy and lengthy thrusts transported you away from reality.

Suddenly, his hands moved away from your mouth, pushing your noises into the open. Instead, his hands moved to your waist, and Pedro began pulling your body into his cock even more. His thrusts had become lightspeed, pushing into you with an urgency. Your moans, now unfiltered and raw, drove him even further, and you felt his thighs clench with one final thrust.

He exploded deep within you with a low succession of howls, his seed filling every tiny crevice inside you. You cried out as you felt him seep into you, his cock throbbing, pushing at the sides of your ass. It pumped into you, impregnating you, leaking down the sides of his member.

Pedro pulled out, leaving your hole gaping, winking up at him as his semen fell down your skin, pooling at the underside of your ballsack. You whimpered as he pushed a finger inside you, admiring his efforts. You were completely loose, empty without him inside you.

Standing upwards fully, you practically fell into him, your legs numb. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Looking up at Pedro, your lips met with contention. You made out slowly, entranced, stunned. His seed dripped from you, his heat departing with it, leaving you empty.

“Shooting in 5 minutes!” someone called behind you, tensing your entire body and his. Turning around, you were stunned to see a group of workers not even fifty steps away from you, oblivious to you and Pedro. If they really looked, you were sure that they would be able to see at least half of your body. The lack of clothing on your end would not be the best look, so you hurriedly set about getting dressed, his seed still dripping from you, hickeys across your neck, fake blood stained onto your face. 

Pedro chucked at the sight of you. He pulled you back into him, his hair a mess, undoubtedly a similarity to yours, and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

“Let them see.” He said, his words a mere whisper. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, timid in Pedro’s presence.

“Let them see,” He repeated, his eyes locked onto yours. And you did. For the rest of the day, the fake blood strewn across your face remained, raising a few eyebrows, especially when a few others saw the chain of hickeys across your neck. You revelled in it, the coveted romance between you and Pedro. People could speculate, but only you and Pedro really knew. You were his toy, and he wanted everyone to know that you were taken.

[calumfmu]

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

[insidekatmind]

The End~Jude Bellingham x reader (feat.Jonathan Daviss)

You’re sitting on the bed, your hands trembling as you clutch your phone. Jude is across the room, his face locked in an expression you barely recognize. The love that once united you feels like a distant memory, suffocated by glittering nights, applause, and trophies.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you try to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Jude runs a hand through his hair, his gaze evasive. “What do you want from me? I’m doing my best!”

“Your best?” you repeat, incredulous. “You don’t even look at me the way you used to. All that matters to you now is football, Real Madrid, your image. I... I don’t exist in your life anymore.”

He scoffs, as if your words are a burden. “That’s not true. But you don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I have responsibilities.”

“And me?” your voice rises, pain spilling out. “Don’t I matter? When was the last time you asked me how I was? When did you actually listen to how I felt?”

Jude stays silent, and that silence speaks louder than any words could. There’s nothing left to say. You stand, gathering your things with shaky hands.

“Goodbye, Jude,” you say, your voice breaking. You expect him to stop you, to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

---

Six months have passed. You’ve changed. You’re no longer the insecure girl who needed approval. Now, you’re a singer the world is beginning to notice. The success of your latest single, Older, has catapulted you into the spotlight, and the lyrics are a gut punch to anyone who knows how to read between the lines.

“All I needed was someone who truly saw me, someone who treated me the way I deserved. Were you ever really that person?”

The song is everywhere. Jude can’t avoid it, no matter how hard he tries. Every time he turns on the radio, he hears your voice, each word a dagger to his chest. But what’s eating him even more are your social media posts.

In one of your latest photos, you’re with Jonathan Daviss, the actor from Outer Banks. The two of you are close, his smile radiant, his hand casually placed on your waist—a proximity that seems too natural to be accidental. And the caption doesn’t help.

“A man who knows how to treat a woman. 🌹”

Jude sees the photo, and it sets his blood boiling. Jonathan.He can’t get him out of his head.

“I can’t stand it,” he mutters to Vinicius, sitting next to him during practice.

“Who?” Vinicius asks with a smirk. “Ah, you mean your ex? I saw the photo. Nice shot, don’t you think?”

Jude shoots him a glare that could kill.

---

You’re at an event, a music awards ceremony. You’re wearing an elegant black dress that hugs every curve with class and grace. Jonathan is by your side, his arm casually draped across your back. You’re there to accept an award for your song, and the entire room is watching you with admiration.

But among all the eyes on you, there’s one gaze you feel the most. Jude is there. He wasn’t invited, but someone brought him as a special guest. You notice him immediately: he looks flawless, but there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel vulnerable.

After the ceremony, as you make your way to the bar, you find him there. He’s leaning against the counter, a glass of something amber in his hand. You approach him, not because you want to, but because you feel like you have no other choice.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice lower than you remember. “Your song... It’s powerful.”

“Thanks,” you reply coldly, trying to maintain your composure.

Jude looks at you intensely, the pain evident in his eyes. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

You smile, but it’s a bitter smile. “If you think it’s about you, maybe you should ask yourself why.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “I know I messed up. I know I lost you because I was... blind, stupid. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“This isn’t the time for those words, Jude,” you cut him off, searching for Jonathan in the crowd.

But Jude doesn’t back down. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

“And how would you know?” you challenge, feeling anger rising. “Jonathan treats me like a queen. Something you never did.”

Jude stays silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. But I can’t accept it. I can’t accept that it’s over between us.”

His words hit you, but you’re unsure of what you feel. All you know is that you’ve changed, and maybe, just maybe, you no longer want to be the girl who needs saving. Perhaps this time, it’s up to you to decide what you really want.

[glamourscat]

TAKE ONE | actor! TIM DRAKE x actor! reader

rivals to ..? | pt 1? | gn! reader

“How can you not understand?” Tim yelled at you, his voice rising above the relentless rain pouring down on both of you.

“I love you. I am so madly, pathetically, in love with you. And yet, you keep running back to him. Back to that damned jerk, over and over again. While me— I’m… your stupid best friend,” his voice cracked, raw and vulnerable.

“I’ve always been here, and you know that. Every late night holding you while you cried, every single t—” His words broke off as your lips collided with his, cutting him off with the force of something long overdue. Something he had dreamed of for months, no, years.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was hungry yet soft, an overwhelming intensity that sent shivers down his spine. Goosebumps on his skin.

“And… cut!” the director’s voice broke through the moment, followed by an applause from the crew. “Great job, everyone. That’s the last scene for today. Go get changed. Meeting in room 2 in an hour.”

The crew began dismantling the props, the artificial rain stopped and the two of you stood there, still drenched, now with an awkward distance between you.

It wasn’t that he hated you. But he couldn’t stand you either. He’d been in this industry since he was a kid, nepotism, some would say. But haters will always be haters. Not his fault he was born loaded. Still, now at 23 he found himself needing more substantial roles. Filled with drama and twists. And, of course, his on-screen love interest had to be you.

The same person who keeps stealing Golden Globes right out of his grasp. Award after award, casting roles, and even his damn agent. So, no. He didn’t hate you. But, if he had to describe you, he would probably say you’re that annoying itch under your skin that not matter how much you scratch it, never really leaves.

Yet… there was something about you. Maybe it was the constant bickering that spilled from the script into your daily interactions. Maybe it was the fact that this kiss scene had taken six exhausting takes, but he couldn’t stop thinking about your lips on his.

And though he refused to admit it, he was beginning to crave this feeling. That terrified him.

“Why are you following me?” he asked flatly, his back still to you as you trailed behind him. “Your trailer’s on the other side,” he added, his tone deliberately detached.

“I told you this morning, but you never listen,” you scoffed. “My trailer’s out of order. There’s a leak in the bathroom, so they moved some of my stuff into yours for now.”

He stopped, turning to face you. His expression flickered between annoyance and disbelief.

“And there was no other trailer they could put you in?”

“Obviously not,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

He scoffed, resuming his pace as you followed. When he reached his trailer, he stepped inside without a backward glance, immediately peeling off his soaked clothes.

“Come in, close the door, but don’t lock it otherwise we get stuck in.” he said nonchalantly, walking around in nothing but his boxers

“You have no decency,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you stepped in.

He smirked, glancing over his shoulder. His blue eyes trialing over your figure. “You’ve seen me in far less, considering the other scenes we had to shoot. Don’t be such a prude.”

“It’s not about being a prude. You’re just…, never mind. Jerk.” you grumbled under your breath, pulling off your drenched clothes too.

He turned, and his smirk widened. “Well, that’s a choice,” he teased, eyeing your Batman underwear, barely concealing his laugh.

“If you say anything, I swear, you’re done for,” you warned, trying not to laugh yourself.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “Whatever you say,” he hummed, turning back to dry himself off.

But in his mind, he was already storing this moment away for future need. Oh, he was absolutely going to use this against you one day.

Pt2? 👀

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