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mononijikayu · 5 months ago

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is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together.

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away.

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping.

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see.

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood.

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes.

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage.

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole.

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos.

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you.

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument.

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit.

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course.

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face.

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more.

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care.

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all.

But how could you? It was New Years.

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that?

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?”

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat.

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.” he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

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endless-ineffabilities · 9 months ago

Text

chemical override (7)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: again, I'm thanking all of yous for fueling the chemical override fire! Your comments/messages are so sweet and hilarious and wild - just as this story demands <3 Happy reading!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The arrangement you and Ewan share is in place, but jealousy rears its ugly head when another costar takes an interest in you. It isn't Aemond's allegiance that renders Ewan green-eyed, so to speak...

London

Whenever Ewan needs you, you answer the call.

Because, in truth, you need him too. This might not be the most savoury of arrangements; it might not be what you pictured in your head when you thought of getting back together.

But this way, you can have him, and he can have you.

It's a win-win situation. Even if you're not his, and he's not yours, as he so nicely put it.

So you're there when his need arises. Which, as it happens, arises often - intense, wanton, and greedy. He takes you for himself, your body left littered with markings that can only be from his teeth, his fingers, his aching manhood.

Beads of sweat would cloud your vision as the side of your face is pressed to the mattress, your legs bent to give him better access, so that he sinks deeper. He would whisper, - you're mine... you're mine... fuckin' mine, darling - when he leans down to pant roughly in your ear, momentarily forgetting about the one condition of this whole thing.

You're not his. But as he finishes inside of you, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss, you also have it in you to conveniently forget.

Your respective apartments in London set the stage for your trysts. Ewan comes over so often that he's had to use the back entrance, after getting papped once on a foggy Sunday morning, leaving your apartment building in the same clothes that he wore when he entered at midnight.

LATE NIGHT RENDEZVOUS! - on page 6! Game of Thrones spinoff stars can't get enough of each other!

When Ewan said that the whole thing was going to be a secret, he must have failed to account for the near-impossibility of that notion for a celebrity.

What can be kept secret for those in your line of work?

A romance between two young, highly coveted actors will see the light of day eventually, aided by the blinding flashes of papparazzi cameras.

Predictably, your friends catch on and demand to know how you little lovebirds found your way back together, because of course, they always knew you would.

Sadly, you have to burst Phia's bubble when she calls one evening. "We're not back together."

A pause. She mulls it over. "But the papers..."

"I know."

"He's been seeing you... " She claims, her tone growing unsure.

"He has."

"Then what... oh." You can practically picture the realisation coming across her face. Would it be accompanied by distaste or disappointment? Neither is good anyhow.

"We're seeing each other. But, not really, if you get what I mean."

"No!" she exclaims. You can hear shuffling in the background, like she just slammed the book she was reading shut. "Whose brilliant idea was this?"

"That's doesn't mat - "

"It's Ewan's, isn't it?" she answers, confirming her own suspicion. "That little devious bastard."

"It's not his fault," you find yourself shaking your head, then you startle as the buzzer to your apartment gets your attention. The routine is in place - it's the receptionist letting you know that Ewan is in the lobby. Speak of the devil...

Hmm. You walk to the intercom to let him upstairs, thinking of him coming to claim his prize. But he's not the devil - he's my twisted angel, whose heart I broke.

Phia isn't finished. "What do you mean, it's not his fault? If this was his idea, then let me just talk to the lad and screw his bloody head on straight."

You stand by the door, waiting for his arrival, because whenever Ewan needs you, you're there.

You need him too.

"Phi, I... I want this," you reply. "I have to go."

"Babe, we're not done here. You're not getting off easy."

"I know, I know," you smile at her genuine concern. "Maybe you're right, maybe this all wrong." But...

You know you don't have to say it outright. It's there to see, clear as day.

You love him.

She sighs loudly, resigning herself to the truth of her friend's predicament. "You'll figure this out, the both of you."

"Hope so, Phi." The doorbell rings. You rush through your goodbyes, dropping the call with a promise to keep her updated on what she deems a ridiculous situation.

You greet him at the door, and he stands there, with his black hoodie obscuring his face like he's Daemon about to do some nefarious act of sorts. And he just might. He chews on his lip, and smirks as he takes you in.

"Darling," he greets as he lets himself in. He shrugs off his hoodie and drops it in its usual corner, before beckoning for you with his arms reaching.

He runs his fingers through your hair, as he kisses your neck and inhales your scent, purring, " - fuckin' missed you, beautiful - " as his skilled fingers find the hem of your old shirt.

"My darling girl," he says, and you so badly want to hate him, because he's not being fair. Why does he get to act like this matters to him, when he made it clear that this is only so both your needs are met? Why does he look at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in hope, with those same blue eyes that blazed when he once said he loved you?

How can you make sure that you don't fall back in love with him, when that love was never truly gone?

"Ewan," you moan as he pushes you against a wall, his rough hands kneading your flesh. You help him pull his shirt over his head, and your fingers drag upward along his skin until it finds the silver chain around his neck. You use it to pull him even closer, not a breadth of space between you.

He kisses you, and it's like an anchor finding home.

Yours or his, it matters little.

It nearly bubbles out of the two of you - those forbidden three words - each time his hips slam right into yours. It's almost there, fighting, waiting to be heard. His 'I really do fucking love you', and your 'I'm sorry about everything, about lying, all I ever wanted was you.'

Nearly. If only things were that simple.

He never stays for long afterward. Small talk is shared - about his new film, the ongoing production for yours, the upcoming engagements you both have for season 3 of House of the Dragon. The bloody weather, even.

The holidays have come and gone, and soon the two of you will again have to fly out to work - you, back to Atlanta; him, to LA for the pre-production of his film with Jenna Ortega.

He took on the film after all, and you should be relieved, but it's hard to feel any sense of ease when you know he will have to be with her in a way that he can't be with you. To the rest of the world, soon enough, they will have to play at being together. Your only claim to him rests in between the sheets, in the countless hollow trysts to be shared.

He doesn't reach for you after the deed is done, after his clothes are back in place and his hair is relieved of that post-sex tousle. As if touching you would cast him aflame.

But you feel his eyes linger on you, all the time, especially when you try to avert your gaze.

What is he thinking, you wonder. Who does he see?

On his way out, he has to deal with an obstacle in order to retrieve his hoodie. An adorable one, at that. Your black Bobtail cat, Sansa, nestles comfortably atop it. Her paws grip the cotton material of the hoodie as Ewan tries to pull it away.

"She likes you," you smile at the sight of Ewan gingerly trying to lift Sansa so she doesn't lash out at him. Even though the likelihood to that is low, with Sansa taking so well to Ewan's constant presence, so much so that you sometimes find her meowing at the door waiting for him to come back. The traitor.

"Good girl," he whispers to her, his hoodie almost released from the weight of her fluffy shape. "That's it."

Then he turns to you, smiling as he shrugs his hoodie back on. "I don't think she wants me to leave."

Like mother, like daughter, comes your thought. But when he straightens, and appraises you with a sideways glance, an amused hum escaping his lips, you realise that you said it out loud.

He smirks openly to himself, his ego blossoming. You roll your eyes at him, mumbling, "Oh, give me a break."

He simply shrugs, walking over to the door.

"I'll call you," he calls over his shoulder as a matter of courtesy, but he sounds uncertain, and the question lingers. Please don't say no, his tone practically begs.

How can you ever?

Arms crossed in an attempt to act nonchalant, leaning against the wall, you smile and say, "Try not to miss me too much, Mitchell."

His eyes linger as they always do. "Impossible task," he responds, casually, unaware that he just upended your whole world with his words.

He solidifies the grip he has on you, before he leaves.

And so the fucked up cycle continues.

Los Angeles

A ginger tabby cat slinks around Ewan's ankles as he sits in the director's office, reminding him of your Sansa and the way she would slink in between your bodies the moment she finds an opening, which is usually after the heated roll in the hay.

He smiles to himself on instinct, remembering how you once shared that you wanted to adopt another cat, preferably a Ragdoll, and name him Benjicat.

"Benjicat?" Ewan had asked.

"Yeah," you smiled, as you stroked a purring Sansa between her ears. "Benjicat Blackwood."

Ewan merely blinked, the connection dawning on him, the brilliance of your idea not lost on his supposedly indifferent mind. He could not hold back his warm and appreciative smile as he gazed at you, and for a moment, he pretended that things were back as they were.

He briefly had the idea that, perhaps, you should adopt the future Benjicat together.

Until the bitter thought crossed his mind - he wasn't the one who quashed that possibility first.

In the office in LA, Jenna sits daintily across from him, still aloof and somewhat of a stranger. She had given him a shy smile when she sat down at the table, exchanged pleasantries and surface-level compliments, the works.

Ewan feels nervous, almost ill at ease, and he normally would be able to single out the reasons why. It could be the notion of meeting an acclaimed director and his future costars. Trying not to stumble on his words, messing up their first impression of him. Maybe he had chainsmoked one cigarette too many before the meeting, worsening the anxiety-inducing effect of his staple black coffee with six sugars.

But this is different. He knows the thing he is dreading is when the matter of the PR business will be brought up.

So he doesn't know what emotion comes over him when the director, Autumn de Wilde, lightly remarks in an attempt to break the tension, "So, Ewan, how's your girlfriend?"

"M-my girlfriend?"

"Yeah," she says jovially, "your costar right? It's all over the socials."

"Oh, I love her," Jenna chimes in. "Is she back in England or is she filming somewhere?"

She's not my girlfriend, is what he should say, but he can't push the words out of his mouth. He's not even sure he wants to. After all, that is why he had the idea for the friends with benefits arrangement in the first place - because he can't cope with the fact that you're not his girfriend anymore.

"Mmm, yeah, she's - uhhh - she's filming in Atlanta," Ewan answers, dodging the main question, but not really.

"Well, say hello to her for me," Autumn says. "She's a keeper, huh? What with her being okay with the PR bullshit you will have to do."

Jenna purses her lips apologetically at him, then remarks, "I don't like that Bruce guy. I know some people who worked with him, and they share the sentiment."

Ewan feels lighter, knowing that they're on the same page. He asks tentatively, "That PR thing... is it set in stone or - ?"

Autumn sighs, "Apparently so, kid. But I heard along the grapevine that great ol' Brucey is dealing with some suit and he might have to pull out of the film."

"Some suit?" Ewan asks.

"A lawsuit," Jenna says.

"Oh." What the fuck. "If he pulls out then what that does mean for us?"

"Halle-fuckin-lujah, that's what," Autumn laughs. "More creative control, more logistics control... more happiness for everyone, really."

"Does that mean the PR relationship will be scrapped?" Ewan blurts out, before sheepishly adding to Jenna, "I mean, no offense - "

"None taken," she shakes her head at him. "I never had a liking for that stuff anyway."

"Well, we'd have to consult with the rest of the execs but they're a lot more likely to be conducive to requests," Autumn says.

Ewan feels a rush of relief, one he immediately wishes he can share with you. If you only you stuck it out with him. If only you didn't leave him hanging at the first sign of trouble.

If only you weren't unsure of how you felt about him.

He calls you afterward, because he wants to, the last remaining shred of his resentment towards you be damned.

"Production nearly finished, darling?" He asks, the pretense of holding back from using the term of endearment long since abandoned.

"Mhmm, I've got one more week here in Atlanta, Mitchell."

You've gone back to calling him Mitchell - not baby, love, or anything remotely romantic.

It bothers him, but he's determined not to let it show.

"I've got about a week and a half here still."

"Then we've got season three prep in London, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I'll see you back there I suppose."

"Okay," you reply, sounding uncertain of what to say next. "Are you... is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he automatically says. "I just thought... maybe I can come see you."

He listens to your steady breathing at the other end, and it calms him. He waits in silence, until you respond with, "Aren't you busy out there, Ewan?"

He is, and he is aware that it makes him seem desperate. It has only been a few weeks since your last rendezvous back in London, and he is supposed to remain nonchalant. Unaffected. This is not supposed to be some kind of lifeline for him. The thought of you should not be what runs through his mind at every waking moment.

He contradicts all of that, when he admits, "I am, but I want to see you anyway. I can fly out for a day and we could - "

"Ewan - "

"I need you."

You sigh deeply, and he pictures the silhouette of your shoulders rising and falling, the pinch in between your brows, the concerned frown your lips take the shape of.

He misses you. Do you miss him too?

"I know," you say. "But I'll see you soon in London, okay?"

That was not the answer he wanted. There are times when you sound dispassionate and he feels like you couldn't give less of a shit about him, and it kills him.

Even though it shouldn't, and this is what he should have expected, after proposing the arrangement.

But there are also times when you give him a spark of hope to cling to.

"Besides," you muse, "we'll soon have to prepare to give the fans what they want. All the love for Aemond and Alyna surely will not be ignored by the writers. I know I'm rooting for them."

Ewan laughs, "I am too."

Aemond and Alyna. You and him. There are fans, and there are fans, and Ewan is proudly a member of the latter.

"Okay, so, I have to head back inside," you say. "I - uhhh - "

"Yeah, darling, I'll see you soon." I miss you.

"Hmm," you respond, stealing his signature line right from his lips.

He stays on the line, unwilling to let you go.

"Mitchell?" you ask.

"Yes, love?"

"I guess you missed me too much after all."

He smiles wistfully, "I guess I did."

London

Production for your film wraps in early February, just in time for the initial preparations for the upcoming season of House of the Dragon.

You arrive back in London a week before the table read, just in time to join the rest of the cast for a mini reunion at Matt's apartment.

A few drinks in, with numerous tales regaled amongst the large group about what everyone has been up to for the past half year, and you realise just how much you missed being with the cast.

They truly are the best bunch of people you could have ever dreamed of working with.

You eventually found yourselves branching off into little groups, with some preparing food in the kitchen, others smoking out in the balcony, and the rest scattered in the expanse of the apartment.

Matt's place is well-decorated for a bachelor pad, with personal knick-knacks at every corner. You note this to him, as you sit on the plush carpet in his living room. Your little half-circle consists of yourself, Matt, Phia, Liv, Bethany, and Tom, all in varying degrees of inebriation, but either of the lads arguably take the cake.

"You see that?" Matt leans close, pointing to the green shelf nestled in the corner. "On the second level right there, is a prop I stole from season one."

"No way," you squint in that direction, unaware that he gives you a good once-over, the admiration in his eyes plain to see.

The others are quick to point it out in typical fashion.

"Now, now, Smithy," Tom quips. "Try not to burn holes in the girl with yer eyes there."

"She's my babe," Phia jokes, winking at you.

"Oh really?" Matt simply leans back on his palms, unaffected. "Not Ewan's?"

"Oop - " Liv's eyes widen like saucers. "Don't even go there, Smithy."

"Why ever not?" Matt shrugs.

"Guys," you shake your head, waving a hand in dismissal. "it's fine. It's... whatever."

"He's not here," Matt says. "We can talk about it."

"Gossip girl over here," Bethany smirks.

Matt was right in pointing out that Ewan is yet to arrive back from the States. Of course, Ewan had given you a call letting you know that he would be spending the night before the table read at your apartment.

But right now, in this moment, you didn't really feel like going through the sordid details of your affair.

"We can talk about it," you say, "but I'd rather not."

Matt laughs, "Okay. But are you or are you not together?"

"Matt," Tom groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in amusement at his mate's boldness.

"Hey, it's a simple question!"

"It is, isn't it?" you shrug, allowing him that, because he is speaking true. It is supposed to be simple. "We're not actually together... but some of you already know - " you shoot Tom and Phia pointed glances " - that we had a thing once, and we may have a thing still, only lesser and more casual." You look around the group, hoping they got the gist, and that no follow-up statements are necessary.

"Hey, I get it," Bethany replies. "It sounds complicated, but it's your business, sweetheart."

You hum gratefully. The others jump on another topic, but Matt slinks closer to you, with the on-brand glint in his eyes. He says, lowly, "That's good, then."

Your mouth parts in pleasant surprise, as you finally take notice of the way he looks at you. "Say that again, Smithy?"

"You heard me," he answers. Smooth. Matt has been known to be the resident casanova of the cast, with his undeniable charm on and off set. He can get along with absolutely anyone, and this includes the array of women who get pulled in by his charisma.

It's lost on you why he would now set his sights on you, but you can't deny that you enjoy the attention.

Fabien suddenly comes into view with that digital camera of his pointed towards your group. He snaps one of Tom whose raised bottle of beer half covers his smirking face. Then he turns to you and Matt, saying, "Give papa a smile, kids!"

Matt quickly slings an arm around you, making you lean against him. He coolly points to the camera, posing like he usually does. You smile widely, your brain in a pleasant daze from the alcohol, the banter, and the alluring scent of Matt's perfume.

"Send me a copy of that, Fabs," Matt comments after. Fabien will probably post the photo on his usual Instagram slideshow, but Matt happily stays off the socials.

"Gonna get it framed?" you joke, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

"Oh, you bet," he winks at you, making you swallow nervously. Speaking to him now, in this way, you realise just how easily the Matt Smith is able to get with the ladies. Charm practically oozes off of him.

And Daemon was your original favourite, after all.

Fabien and Matt walk you and Phia back to your apartments in the wee hours of the morning. Though your neighbourhood was only 5 minutes away, the lads gallantly insisted that they wouldn't let you go without an escort.

Your group weaves its way through the empty streets of London, chatting and laughing away, the effects of the alcohol yet to wear off. At some point, Matt wraps an arm around you, and you let him keep it that way.

You have grown fond of him, having spent a lot of time with him during filming. And, well, you needed to keep your balance anyway.

Not to mention, he offers a pleasant distraction from having to yearn all the damn time for what you once had with Ewan.

Fabien and Phia walk ahead to her nearby apartment, so you're left with Matt in front of your building.

"We'll be spending a lot more time together this season, fortunately," he says.

"That's kind of a given," you laugh. "Alyna's never going to drop her oath to the Queen."

"And the King."

"Consort," you finish for him.

He laughs freely, shaking his head, before his expression turns a bit serious. He dips his face closer to yours, whispering, "And in real life? Is Alyna sticking with Aemond?"

That stumps you. Matt's blue eyes are indeed arresting, but one mention of Aemond is enough to bring you back into the Ewan Mitchell spiral.

But... you're not his.

You shrug in response, smiling softly, "I guess some things just aren't meant to be."

You become convinced that the universe must be testing you because your phone buzzes in that moment, revealing an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye.

Matt spots it easily, challenging you with, "So what then, beautiful? Are you going to answer the call?"

It buzzes once more, and another time, before you press decline.

Matt doesn't give you the time to regret your decision. He swoops down and plants a soft kiss at the corner of your lips. Nothing too much, but just enough to toe the line of simply being friendly.

"I - I better head inside - " you stammer, your face heating up.

"You better."

"I'll see you soon, Smithy."

He nods, "See you soon, my Alyna."

Ewan can hardly focus on the script in front of him. He struggles to get his lines out efficiently during the table read, and he hopes that no one else notices.

It would be a miracle if you actually take notice of him, with Matt stealing your attention as he sits to your right.

The cast and crew are positioned around the room, and you just happened to be directly across Ewan, right in his line of sight. He would revel in it, but not now, with Matt leaning in once in a while and whispering something in your ear that makes you softly giggle.

How unprofessional. Whatever he is telling you, it sure must be fucking fascinating.

He isn't entirely oblivious of your growing closeness with Matt. He saw the photos of the two of you walking the streets of London, snug against each other, but he chose not to think much of it. After all, how many times has Matt been pictured with an arm wrapped around a costar? That is just how he is. Open and friendly.

Ewan had not been inclined to think it meant something more in your case.

"Ewan," he hears Tom sharply whisper to his left. "It's your line."

The room is silent in anticipation, eager to get on with the script. You lock eyes with him and offer an encouraging smile, and he is just about to reciprocate, but then he notices Matt's arm resting on the back of your seat.

Like he has laid a claim on you.

Ewan ends up grumbling out his lines, lacking the vulnerability that Aemond is meant to be displaying in that scene.

His keeps his expression stoic, trying to do his best to accomplish the task at hand. A tiny consolation is that the script to season three seems to be marginally better than that for the previous season.

There is not a single scene of Aemond and Alyna thus far, but the script is littered with those of Daemon and Alyna. Which makes complete sense, since they're fighting for the same cause, and Daemon has been somewhat of a mentor to the young Alyna.

Ewan liked their dynamic, being a fan of both the characters, and their real-life counterparts. But the scene that is playing out before him may be enough to sway his bias to the contrary.

Daemon and Alyna. You and Matt.

Ewan scoffs to himself, forgetting where he is for a moment. Tom side-eyes his weird behaviour, thinking, the lad must have left his marbles back in America.

Ewan doesn't notice. His thoughts race a mile a minute - Do the writers not see the potential goldmine they've got with the Aemond and Alyna dynamic? Do they not know how crazy it would drive the fanbase?

Is Matt unaware that it was his name - Ewan's, and no one else's - that you were screaming last night?

Your sputtered little pants of his name rise from his memory, your breathing ragged by the time he finished making love to you the third round in the same night.

That... that was his.

You are -

"Mate," Tom clasps him on the shoulder, "drink some water, yeah? You look bloody flushed."

Ewan hums gratefully, nodding once, shaking the image of you from his mind.

After all, he wears his Adidas joggers today, and the thin material would not be able to conceal it if he ended up having a raging hard-on, in front of everyone during the damn table read.

When another scene of Daemon and Alyna comes on, with you and Matt eagerly reciting your lines to each other, the boyish lust that Ewan entertained essentially dies.

He purses his lips, a ghost of a smile, ever the good and supportive costar.

He raises his head to distract himself by looking around the table, eventually locking eyes with Phia, who had already been looking at him strangely.

You okay? she mouths.

His head snaps toward the sound of your laughter before he could respond.

"Shoot, sorry," you smile, apparently having read the wrong line. Everyone at the table waves it off, a cacophony of 'it's alright' and 'you got this' heard around the room.

When you finish the rather long, drawn-out speech Alyna makes, there is an intermission before the next scene.

People begin turning to each other to make comments, some stand to stretch their legs. Then Ewan hears it - "How'd I do, Smithy?" followed by "Not too shabby, my Alyna."

His Alyna?

Ewan flips the bloody table over in his mind.

Ewan calls you the following night, under the pretense of the arrangement.

In truth, he'd take anything. He could sit on your couch and watch paint dry, if it meant being around you.

"Not tonight, Ewan," you say, and his heart sinks.

"Why not?" he asks, uncaring about how downright needy he sounds.

"Uhhhm, I have a friend over," you reveal.

"Phia? I'm sure she'll understand."

"Oh, come on, Ewan. It's not Phia, and even if it was, I wouldn't just send her away."

"Who then?" he insists, but some part of him already knows the answer.

"Fabien," you say, "and Matt. But Fabien already left to go see Bella, so it's just - "

"You and Matt, huh," he spits bitterly. For an actor, he sure is unable to mask his emotions.

"What are you insinuating? We're friends. You're his friend too, Ewan."

"Hmm," his grip on his phone tightens, "you seem a lot closer than friends to me."

"You're being ridiculous," you scoff. "I would ask you to still come over if you want to hang out with us but not if you're being this unpleasant."

"Forget it," he practically snaps, immediately regretting his tone, "let me know when you're less occupied."

"Ewan - "

"It's okay, darling," he cuts you off, wanting to be done with the conversation already. "I'll come see you before the cast shoot." He refers to the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot the entire cast is slated to do in the coming week, the first offering of season three promo.

"Okay," you exhale, then say, "Sansa misses you."

That earns a weak smile out of him. If only her owner could say that she misses him too. "Does she?"

"Mhmm," you respond, and he hears the smile in your voice, "so... so you better come over soon or she might start clawing at the door."

Matt makes his presence known, his voice becoming audible as he walks into the room where you are, asking, "You alright, love?"

"Ewan, I gotta go," you say in a rush.

"Okay," he sighs in defeat. He drops his phone on the couch, then paces around his apartment, needing to get the picture of you and Matt canoodling out of his mind.

He audibly groans. Why must he torture himself so? If you say that you and Matt are just friends, then that must be the case.

My Alyna, Matt had called you.

In a sudden flash of madness or genius, Ewan picks up his phone and redownloads a certain wretched app.

It takes less than a minute, and soon he finds himself back in the mostly uncharted waters of Instagram. Careful not to accidentally like any post as he had before, he makes his way to the section that lets him create a new post.

Scrolling through his photo gallery, it doesn't take long before he finds one to his liking.

No editing is needed. He knows that the image and its subjects need no addition.

In his eyes, you are perfect as you are.

That night marks Ewan's second ever official post on his Instagram, yet again sending the entire fandom in a wild tailspin.

It's a picture of you sitting on top of your bed, hair slightly dishevelled, and with an old pyjama shirt on. Sansa is cradled on your bare thighs, and a smile graces your face as you pet her dotingly. The angle is from the side, where Ewan lay on his designated part of your bed, surreptitiously taking the picture.

The morning light cast a soft glow on your face, and the entire scene had made Ewan wish he never had to leave.

Under the post, reads the caption -

My Alyna.

💌 next chapter

🎧 series mixtape

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @sprinklesprinkle888 (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

In part 8 - the EW photoshoot, more season three prep, and big news regarding Ewan's upcoming film!

I'm taking all your amazing ideas into account, and you'll continue to see smatterings of them in this story.

As always, I can't wait to talk with yous in the comments! Which couple is your endgame? <3

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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meglosthegreat · 4 months ago

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I see a lot of posts on here talking about the Solas/Elgar'nan segment in Blood of Arlathan and how it's one of the best scenes in the game, and they'd be right, but I don't see enough people talking about how comically the whole thing is undercut by quite possibly the most poorly-conceived, terribly-implemented looney-tunes-ass sequence in gaming history that surrounds it.

Like you show up with your friends to this Venatori party, and you're like great, we're sneaking in! Time for disguises. How convenient that these Venatori guys all wear hoods, right? Should be a piece of cake if we're all, you know, wearing hoods that would helpfully hide our identities. But no. We all go waltzing in with our whole-ass faces exposed, you know, the group of guys that have been murdering Venatori left and right and who Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have definitely all seen in person before. Oh, and don't worry about walking into this notoriously racist elf-sacrificing cult if you happen to be an elf! You're only here in disguise so that you can rescue a GROUP OF ELVES THEY'RE GOING TO SACRIFICE but it's ok because you're dressed as a mercenary and not a dalish so it's all good don't worry about it :) :)

Then you get into this fucking party and oh my fucking god it's like they decided to take all of the most comically over-the-top stereotypes of villainy and put them on display. Because why not! The Venatori are all sickos anyway so of course they'd be out here doing sicko things! There's some guys pulling a halla apart with blood magic! There's other guys using slaves as benches! They're all laughing and joking about how EVIL they are, hahaha, how cool is that? The fucking guy from D'Meta's Crossing is here if you don't let him die, because he's a fucked up evil sicko too! You're supposed to be shocked at this hideous display; recoil in horror, even!

And who do you bring with you to help get through this crowd of absolute lunatics? NEVE FUCKING GALLUS. You know, the person so well-known in Minrathous that a Dalish elf living in Arlathan KNEW HER BY REPUTATION. Yup, Neve Gallus with her INTENSELY RECOGNIZABLE PROSTHETIC just waltzes up to some guy and he just lets her in. Because being EVIL also makes you incapable of coherent thought, apparently.

And then. AND THEN. You walk across the bridge where Elgar'nan makes his thought-sounds at you, and YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING PARTY is already there, just hanging out nbd. Also not wearing hoods or any kind of disguises that couldn't instantly be seen through by a five-year-old with amnesia but ok, cool. Why did we bother walking through all those sickos then when we could've just taken the secret back entrance like the rest of them, idk.

But just when you think you've reached peak stupidity, it keeps going. You're now standing there, at the front of a crowd of about twelve people, approximately five feet away from Elgar'nan himself, inexplicably blending in, when the big guy puts the mind control whammy on everyone. Oh no, you think. We've been found out! Here's the part in the plan where things begin to go wrong! NO. Your mage friends SECRETLY PERFORM MAGICAL GESTURES to block the mind control, and then you LITERALLY FUCKING SIDLE OFF STAGE LEFT without ANYONE NOTICING. I should reiterate that at this point, you are still about FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ELGAR'NAN and his fucking ARCHDEMON.

And to conclude this absolute comedy of idiocy, as soon as you enter back into combat mode, you immediately ditch all of your disguises. And of course then, ONLY THEN, Elgar'nan notices you've been there. Cut to the end of the actual good sequence, this dramatic conversation performed by excellent voice actors and written miles better than most other things in this game, and you reach your final prize: about six guys trapped in a little cube. Cool, you tell yourself. This was definitely worth it. You take your fade-to-black teleporter back to the Lighthouse and they're never heard from again.

This was the quest that broke me. This was the moment that all hope for Veilguard finally snapped. I consider myself to be a very resilient person in the face of camp and goofy writing, but this was too much disbelief for my brain to suspend. The mental gymnastics necessary to make this whole sequence make any kind of sense were simply beyond me. Even Solas's dulcet tones could not salvage it for me after that.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard critical #long post #rant #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #datv

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mollyjames · 3 months ago

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I made a post a little while ago about video games still being in their "stage actors doing stage acting in movies" phase, and a lot of people took that to mean that I am against cutscenes in video games. Which, fair, that's the example I used, and it's a common example of video games pretending to be movies. But that's not really what I was getting at.

Video games are a medium. More to the point: they are an incredibly broad, diverse medium. It's also a young medium. We're still figuring out what works and what doesn't. To my mind that doesn't mean "no cutscenes ever", but "what does putting a cutscene here do?"

I'm circling back around to this now because I just finished 1000xResist, a game which pound for pound is almost exclusively cutscenes. And it works. So I ask myself: would this still work as well if this were a movie? A book? A tv show? A comic book maybe? And the answer, for me, is no. The atmosphere wouldn't be the same, the pacing of the story would be off, you would lose all of the small clever ways the game takes advantage of its medium, and (maybe most importantly) I wouldn't be as personally invested in the questions the game is posing to its audience.

And this isn't the only example. Sanabi and Nine Sols both games I played recently that made me invested in their story through cutscenes. Because they're good. They dont break the flow. They're as much a part of the game as the gameplay.

I want to see more games like this; games that understand what their narrative needs and how the player experience should be paced. Regardless of whether or not that calls for a cutscene.

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yearsbecomingcool · 2 months ago

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thrill me, chill me, fulfill me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | college au!simon x co-worker!reader

synopsis | simon has gone off to college and started working at a movie theater where he meets you. it doesn't take long for him to fall to you and one thing leads to another and he's on his knees in front of you in the office.

warnings | 18+!!!! mdni!!!, sexual content, semi-public sex, subby!simon, oral f!receiving, dom!reader, f!reader, public humiliation, sexual fantasies, mentions of piv, attempted footjob, we're getting into pet-lay territory with some of this dialogue, reader calls simon 'puppy', dry humping, and a fluffy ending.

word count | 7.1k

a/n | i love rocky horror so much and i feel like simon would love it too so all the sequences at the rocky horror screening were so much fun. i still haven't been able to go to a screening but it seems so fun. i also had to make him work at a theater because the movie theater is my happy place and i have to throw my interests in somehow!!

taglist | @slaytheusurper

Simon Kalivoda had managed to do the impossible, he graduated high school and got the fuck out of Shadyside…temporarily at least. He’d gotten into Kent State and was sad he didn’t have the grades to join Kate somewhere better but he’d take what he could get. He’d saved up enough money from his years working at the grocery store to put down a deposit for an apartment near campus and started his summer off by applying at as many places near campus as possible. The first one to call him back was a family owned movie theater by campus, they were known for hosting screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and tons of midnight movies. He quickly took the job and that’s where he met you.

His first shift was one of the midnight shadow cast screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He had no idea what he was in for, but you spent the first hour of your shift getting him caught up. You leaned against the concession counter, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. “All these people are gonna come in looking like they came from those cool queer clubs in New York. They’re nice but one of the biggest parts of this is making a total mess so it’s gonna be a bitch to clean but they tip great. They throw rice, newspapers, confetti, toilet paper, toast, and cards. A few people have been known to throw hot dogs and prunes too so be on the lookout for that. They bring in water guns and all kinds of shit, it’s a whole thing.”

“And Eli is okay with that?” Simon asks, slack jawed. He can’t believe the owner would be okay with patrons making such a mess.

“It’s good for business and it’s fun, he’d never admit it but I always see him go into the theater when it starts, he loooooves that shit. I’ve gone on nights off before, it is pretty fun. They have a whole ritual for virgins, people who’ve never gone to one of those midnight showings, it’s humiliating…and a little fun.”

“Did you have to do that ritual?” Simon is pretty intrigued.

“Oh yeah. I came in with my fishnets and sequin hot pants thinking I could be unnoticed but the people who run these remember everybody. They put a giant V on my forehead in red lipstick when I walked in and they pulled me and all the other ‘virgins’ up on stage. They really like the shy ones, which of course I was. They made all of us fake an orgasm and the two they liked best got pulled up for the wedding scene to be Ralph and Betty.”

Simon tilts his head like a puppy, “How’d you do?” He has a stupid little smirk on his face when he says it.

“Let’s just say I made the best Betty Monroe this town has ever seen.” He throws his head back and laughs in a way that makes you wanna kiss him.

“Laugh it up for now but next screening I’m making sure you’re off and I’ll be front and center to watch them pull you up there. Just how good of an actor are you, Simon?”

He smirks, “You’ll just have to wait for my debut.

You and Simon become friends quite quickly, you’re both around the same age and soak up movie knowledge like a sponge. Your slow shifts are spent going head to head in movie trivia and arguing over franchises and sequels.

“There’s no way you think the Nightmare on Elm Street films are better than the Friday the 13th films, you’re full of shit Simon!”

“The only thing I’m full of is correct opinions. Jason is boring, he doesn’t ever talk. Freddy could kill him easily,” Simon retorts, pointing his twizzler at you.

You smack the twizzler, “Bullshit! Freddy can only get people in their dreams, does Jason even sleep?”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it soon after, he reaches up and scratches his head. “Wait, fuck, does he sleep? I think you just destroyed my whole argument here…”

“Maybe it’s a draw? If Jason can’t sleep they can’t fight…” You trail off.

“Whatever. Nightmare is still better than Friday, Freddy makes the movies. What does Jason have besides dumb teenagers having sex and getting killed with a machete?”

Before you can respond someone slaps the bell on the counter, “Shouldn’t you two be working?” It’s Eli, the owner and lead manager of the theater. He doesn’t look too amused by your bickering with Simon.

“Sorry Eli…I’ll go clean the bathroom or something…” You mutter, slipping out from behind the counter and heading for the supply closet. Simon watches you as you walk off and Eli rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of Simon’s face.

“You need to be more subtle, y'know. I know she’s a pretty little thing but I didn’t hire you to stare all day, start restocking. You’re a good employee, don’t fuck it up with some silly little workplace romance. I’ve seen enough fizzle out to know how they all end, I don’t feel like losing either one of my best employees this year.”

Simon sighs and salutes Eli, “You got it boss. I’ll stick to fantasizing about the girls on the posters instead.”

“Better,” Eli jokes before heading to his office.

As the school year was starting up along came another Rocky Horror showing. You’d pulled some strings and managed to get Simon off work that night just like you’d promised. He had freaked out over what to wear but you told him whatever he wore would be fine since you’d be doing his makeup anyway. He settled on a black blazer, black jeans, a band t-shirt, and his signature combat boots. He met you at your dorm like you insisted so you could help him get ready. He maneuvered through the halls until he’d found your room. A small whiteboard hung on the door, your name written in big blocky letters. You had a small dry erase marker hanging on the door for people to write or draw on it. Before knocking on your door Simon uncapped the marker and drew a little smiley face under your name. He knocks on your door and his eyes go wide when he sees you. You’re standing in front of him in a loose black corset that you’re holding against your chest, a pair of tiny rainbow sequin shorts, a pair of fishnets, and some platform boots. “Great timing, I needed someone to lace me up!” You pull him into your dorm room, shutting the door behind him. His eyes wander around your room, clothes spill out of the small laundry basket near your open closet door, posters you’ve taken home from the theater line your walls. You’ve got a framed poster of ‘Serial Mom’ hanging above your bed. You nod your head towards it, “Eli got me into John Waters when I started working at the theater, he gave me that framed poster to celebrate my one year anniversary of working at the theater.”

“That’s so cool of him…I can’t say I’ve ever seen Serial Mom.”

“I’ve got it on tape, we’ll watch it sometime. But for now can you lace me up?” You ask, turning your back to him. The laces of your corset hang loose down your back. His eyes wander lower than they should and he briefly admires how your ass looks in those shorts, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out just enough for his mind to go crazy. He clears his throat and begins to pull at the laces, he doesn’t pull tight enough, feeling scared to hurt you.

“Pull harder, you won’t hurt me, promise. I just really don’t need to flash anyone tonight more than I already am,” you laugh.

His face is flushed and his hands tremble as he pulls the strings tighter and tighter against your skin. You bend forward in a way that makes his breath get caught in his throat, “Pull as hard as you can, I’m serious.” He gulps and obeys, pulling the strings as hard as he can. You whimper softly as he does, “There we go…tie it for me.” He carefully ties the things of the corset, double knotting it just to be sure it’s secure. He takes a step back when he’s done and watches as you stand up straight, checking that it fits right. You turn back to him with a smile, “Thank you! Now let’s get you ready, yeah? Sit on the bed for me.”

Simon sits down on the bed obediently, eyes following you as you go over to your desk and rifle through your makeup drawer until you find what you’re looking for. You set a small eyeshadow palette and a few brushes on the bed next to Simon, holding a gel eyeliner pen in your hands. You stand between his legs and bend down, “I’m gonna make you pretty. Just do what I say so it doesn’t get fucked up, ‘kay?”

He nods in response, trying to keep eye contact and not let his eyes wander.

“Look up for me, this is gonna feel weird but I won’t hurt you.” As Simon looks up you very carefully apply the black eyeliner to his waterline, his face scrunches up as he tries desperately not to blink.

“Fuck this feels weird!” Simon exclaims, his hands balled up into fists against the comforter.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! I’ll try to speed it up, let me just…” You quickly outline about halfway under both eyes before playing the eyeliner down and reaching for your eyeshadow palette and a small brush. You smoke out the line beneath his eye before applying a soft silver shimmer to both eyes. After that you start on his top lids, you hold him by the chin as you lean towards him. “This is gonna feel awful but please don’t move.”

“You owe for this,” Simon mutters, enjoying the feeling of you holding him in place.

“Whatever you say…” You start quickly applying eyeliner to his upper waterline and he groans in discomfort.

“Oh what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” He yelps, hands reaching forward for your waist. His hands curl into the fabric of your shorts.

“Simon, stop! Fuck…just let me…can you lay down? It might make it easier on both of us.”

“I uhh…yeah…sure just uh…w-whatever you need to do…” He stumbles over his words, laying back on your twin sized bed. You climb onto him, straddling his hips. You lean over him and giggle when you look down at him, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s um…it’s fine.” He prays you don’t notice how red he is. You notice.

You lean down towards him to finish applying the eyeliner to his waterline. His hands grip your hips and his breathing is unsteady, this having an effect on him and you love it. You’ve always been into the submissive types, a strong muscled man who takes charge has never really done it for you. The dorky guys who would do anything you said no matter what are more for you. When Simon was first hired you were instantly intrigued. You begged Eli to put him with you for his first shift and he did. He was witty enough to keep up with you but intimidated enough to let you order him around, he was just what you’d been wanting. “Close your eyes for me.” You watch as he obeys and you apply a thin line of eyeliner onto his eyelids, just barely peeking above his lash line. You smoke it out with the same black eyeshadow from before and then take a silver glitter and apply it to his inner corner. You add mascara as a final step before rolling off him, “Go see what you think.” You smile over at him as he gets up from the bed and goes over to your vanity mirror to look. His jaw drops and his eyes widen as he looks at himself in the mirror.

“Oh shit! I look…hot?” This is the confidence he needs for the rest of the night to not fall to his knees and beg you to kiss him. In high school he’d always act more confident than he really was, he pretended he was some smooth ladies man and women would just fall to his feet. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The most action he’d get was a few girls flirting to try and get lower prices on whatever pills they were buying off him that week. Well that’s not entirely true. He wasn’t a virgin, he’d lost his virginity when he was 16. It wasn’t anything special, a nervous hookup with a girl he met at a party. They were both nervous and it was sloppy, fine but forgettable. His hand had really been the only one to keep him company as the years went on.

You laugh and walk over to him, grabbing him by his shoulder to turn him towards you. You take a look examining his face carefully, “I think you need some blush.” You shove him down into your desk chair and look through your makeup for a shade that’ll look nice on him. He hardly needs it though after how you manhandled him. You come back over with a soft pink shade and a brush. You apply the blush, careful to not add too much. You use it almost as a contour, following his bones structure and fanning it out onto his cheeks. You turn the chair for him to look back into the mirror, “Now you look really hot.”

“Woah…I do…goddamn. The only other makeup I’ve worn before was like…green face paint in high school and some black on my eyebrows. I uh, I used to be my school's mascot. We were the witches,” he explains.

“I can totally imagine you as a school mascot, you have that energy,” you say as you put away your makeup.

“Thanks…I think?”

“I meant that in a good way, I swear!” You say defensively as you stroll over to your closet looking for a jacket. You hold up two options for Simon to choose from, a black leather jacket and a black blazer. “Which one do you think?”

Simon thinks for a minute examining his options, if you wore the blazer you could kind of match him but the leather jacket would look cool too. “Uhh…blazer, definitely the blazer.”

“Good choice, we can match. You shove the leather jacket back into the closet and slip on the blazer. It’s longer than Simon expected, falling just above your shorts. It looks like you may as well be pantless, not that he’s complaining of course.

You sit on your bed with a handwritten list of call outs and prop instructions. You made a bag of props for you and Simon to share as well. Simon scoots the chair closer to take a look. He smiles at your messy handwriting and the stickers that adorn the sheet. The top reads ‘A Virgin’s Guide to Rocky Horror’. He’s more than happy that the blush you applied earlier conceals his actual blushing. You hand the list to him, your fingers brushing as you do. You’ve obviously touched before but every touch after you straddled him earlier makes him feel like he’s on fire. “I made it for you, it’s way too much to memorize for your first time so you can just read it off whenever it’s time.” You give him a soft smile, taking a second to admire how the eyeliner makes his blue eyes pop.

“Thank you, seriously you didn’t have to do all this.” Simon was worried about making friends when he went off to college, it felt weird to be separated from Kate and Deena after being friends for so long. Thanks to you he didn’t need to worry anymore, you welcomed him on his first day at work like you had been friends for years.

“I know but I couldn’t have you looking stupid, could I?” You laugh, reaching for your purse. You look through it until you find your bright red lipstick, the exact one you’re wearing right now. You lean forward, signaling him to lean down. “Almost forgot…” You uncap the lipstick and draw a giant red V on his forehead. “There, look’s complete now.”

“What happened to make sure I didn��t look stupid?” He groans, leaning back in his chair.

“Hey! It’s tradition, don’t blame me. It was gonna end up on you one way or another. Just be thankful I got it over with now, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna have a great time and you look hot, seriously everyone is gonna go crazy for that eyeliner. You should be thanking me honestly, if at least one person doesn’t ask for your number tonight I’ll be shocked. I mean seriously, look at you.” You motion to him.

He feels his cheeks heat up and his mouth go dry. He doesn’t know how to say he wants it to be you who asks for his number, he wants it to be you who kisses him in the theater bathroom and messes up his hair in the process. Instead he chuckles, “We’ll see.”

“Don’t let me leave disappointed, pretty boy.” You ruffle his hair playfully, he wishes you’d tug him by it and pull him into a kiss instead.

The drive to the theater is more nerve wracking than he’d like to admit. Five minutes of pure anxiety as you try to quickly explain the film to him. “Fuck it’s so sexy and fun, it changed my life when I first watched it. My parents are total conservatives, they hate anything fun and liberating, so I watched it for the first time at a friend's house. It completely changed my life. I stopped really giving a shit about what my parents and all those other conservative losers thought about me and started living for me. I’ve never looked back since.”

“I’ve kind of done the same. Shadyside was kind of a nightmare to live in. All those Sunnyvale kids judged us just for where we were born, it was fucked. I think I stopped caring just to spite them and their stuck up attitudes, y’know?”

You turn to look at him, interested in learning more. “What was Shadyside like? I mean I’ve heard all these stories over the years, it’s murder capital of the country after all…”

He parks the car and turns to you, “It was just like every other boring small town in America. Every couple of years there’d be some murders, my senior year it was Ryan Torres killing Heather Watkins and a couple other mall employees. I guess growing up like that you get a little…numb to it I guess? I know that sounds bad but as soon as one happened everyone at school would joke around about it, I guess it’s how we coped with it.”

You nod in understanding, “I get that, the whole joking around part. My family does the same. At a certain point it’s really all you can do.”

Simon unbuckles his seat belt, “As fun as it is to talk about death with you I think we should get in line, it looks like it’s already pretty long.” He nods towards the line and you unbuckle and grab the prop bag from the backseat. You walk together towards the longline of movie goers.

“Damn, looks like a great turn out. Are you ready to give them a show?” You joke.

He looks at you in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget about the initiation for virgins?” You giggle.

“Fuck…” He mutters. He did in fact forget.

“Oh babe you’re in for it tonight…”

As everyone trickles into the theatre Simon and the other virgins are pulled to the stage. You take a seat in the middle near the audience and put your prop bag in a seat to save it for Simon. He’s nervously holding his hands in front of him as the announcer begins to speak. “Welcome everyone to another showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” They pause as the crowd erupts into cheers. “We have some fresh virgins here to provide us with our favorite pre-show entertainment. We’ll be seeing who can fake an orgasm the best. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves to the crowd before we begin?” They pass the microphone to the girl standing closest to them, she’s dressed like Janet at the beginning of the film. Her nervousness is clear on her face. Simon is fourth in line and he puts on an act of confidence when it’s his turn, “I’m, Simon. I’m gonna win this little competition, trust me.” You raise your eyebrows at his confidence, now you really want to see what he has in store.

Finally everyone has finished introducing themselves and the mic is handed back to the host, “Now why don’t we get this started. Simon,” they point towards him as he stands in the middle of the lineup, “Why don’t you start us off since you’re so confident.” His cheeks go red with embarrassment, even with his blush on it’s clear thanks to the unrelenting glow of the spotlight. He’s really regretting his words, sure he’s always been a class clown but this audience is packed. He laughs nervously as he’s handed the microphone. “Uhh okay…”

The silence of the crowd does nothing to calm his nerves, so you decide to yell some encouragement. “C’mon baby! Give me some shower head material!” The crowd laughs but it seems to help Simon as he recognizes your voice.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, he’ll feel better if he doesn’t look. He decides he’ll give a little build up, whimpering pathetically into the mic. He imagines you riding him, his hands on your hips as he begs you to let him come. He starts to moan into the mic, getting louder and louder before mumbling, “Oh fuck…” He moans and whines dramatically into the mic, falling to his knees and throwing his head back. He pants and whimpers as if it’s the real thing. You can feel a wet spot growing in your panties, you know he just gave you the best damn shower head material of your life. Once he’s done he stands and bows, his cheeks flushed. He hands the mic back to the presenter as everyone claps and cheers. He spots you in the crowd and teasingly blows you a kiss.

“Well whoever is gonna be on top of him tonight is in for a treat, huh? I think that’ll be pretty tough to beat.” The rest of the virgins have their turns, none nearly as impressive as Simon. They end up choosing some girl dressed as Magenta to play Betty and of course pick Simon to play Ralph. He stays up at the front until after he’s gone up on stage for the wedding scene. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you watch him stand hand in hand with the other winner, she looks at him hungrily. You weren’t the only one impressed by his performance. Once their scene is over he runs back into the audience to find you. When he does you pull him down into the seat and kiss his cheek, leaving a red lip print. “You were fucking hot. I told you someone’s getting your number tonight.”

He laughs and whispers, “They might ask for it but I’m not giving it out to just anyone.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Got your eye on someone?”

He shrugs, “I might.”

Once the movie is over you and Simon head to the local diner down the street from the theater. The winning girl had tried to approach him after the movie but you were quick to pull him away. Sure it was selfish but you couldn’t give a fuck. You wanted him for yourself even if you were too cowardly to make a move yet. You sat across from him in the booth, you shared a basket of fries together as you talked. “So? Did you have fun?” You dip your fry into the small tin of ketchup as you put your feet up next to where he sits.

He smiles, “I had a great time. The uhh,” he lowers his voice, “competition was a little embarrassing but your encouragement helped me out actually.”

“Well I had to say you definitely succeeded in giving me some shower head material so thanks for that,” you joke.

He chokes on his sprite, “W-What-”

You stifle your laughter, “Calm down, I’m kidding! But you were pretty impressive, as a former winner myself I have to give you that.”

He smirks down at the table, clearly trying to make up his mind on something. “Am I ever gonna get to see your performance or?”

Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment, you drop your fry back into the basket. “Uhh…I guess you’ll have to really earn it out of me.”

“Right here?” He cocks eyebrow and looks at you teasingly.

“What would you even do?”

He leans back and crosses his arms, looking around to make sure your section is empty. “Well…I could always get on my knees under the table. Spread your legs apart and pull down your shorts. I could tear a hole in those fishnets and maybe I could be mean and tease you through your underwear. Eventually I’d move them to the side or maybe I’d fully pull them down and eat you out and really earn it out of you.”

Your jaw drops, you want him right here in this diner and you don’t give a fuck who sees. “W-Would you-”

“Not here. You’d be too loud,” he says smugly.

“You sound so sure you could get me that loud,” you snap back. You move your foot off the seat and use it to kick his legs apart under the table. You slowly start to trail your boot up his leg.

“I-I could! Y-You’d-” He yelps when the toe of your boot presses against his inner thigh.

“I’d what, Simon?” You ask innocently. You start to move the toe of your boot towards his crotch, enjoying how he squirms in his seat. “You’re not so tough now, huh?” You lightly press the toe of your boot against his crotch, smirking as he bites his lip to stay quiet.

“You wanna get out of here?” You giggle.

He nods quickly, throwing a twenty on the table and standing up quickly. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, pushing you in front of him as he leads you to his car. As soon as you get in the car you’re on him. You kiss him hard, tugging at his hair as he leans against the console to reach you. He whines against your lips and you smirk against him, tugging harder at his hair. You love when he whines. You’re just about to move to his neck when there’s a knock on the window and the shine of a flashlight coming through. You groan as you pull away from him, “Not the fucking pigs…”

Simon sighs and turns towards the window, rolling it down for the cop standing outside the car. “Hi officer…” he says through gritted teeth.

“License and registration please,” the cop says emotionlessly. He leans his head down, looking at you, “License from you too, now.”

You both try to keep neutral faces as you look for your IDs and Simon looks for his registration, he hands them over to the cop once you’ve found them and the cop takes a look. “You know if I let you go any further I could’ve charged you both with public indecency and exposure.”

You both hang your heads shamefully, “Yes, officer. We’re very sorry,” you say.

He continues to lecture the both of you before finally letting you go. Once Simon has started to drive off back to your dorm you’re both howling with laughter. “Holy shit! Cock blocked by the pigs…can’t say that’s ever happened before!” He laughs.

“I can’t say it’s happened to me either…the RA’s are pretty strict about late night guests so I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap this up. You think I gave you enough to manage?”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah yeah, me and my hand will have a nice conversation about the way you were about to give me a footjob.”

“Me and my shower head will have a conversation about that orgasm you faked on stage.”

“Promise?”

You nod, “Mhm, I was serious. That was some top tier shower head material, babe.”

“I tried, I really did.” He looks proud of himself.

“Oh I could tell.”

He pulls into a parking spot outside your dorm. “So, when am I seeing you again?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, “You’re gonna hate me but probably not till our next shift together. You work thursday?”

He nods, “Mhm, closing shift.”

You smile, “Me too, looks like I’ll be seeing you then.”

He smiles and leans forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. It’s not as needy as before, it’s sweet and soft instead. You kiss him back just as soft, if you could you’d kiss him for the rest of your life. When he pulls away he’s smiling like he just had his first kiss, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“So will I. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you Thursday.” You hop out of his car and wave goodbye as you head back up to your dorm. As soon as you get inside you’re stripping off your clothes and making a beeline for the shower. You’re lucky enough to have a detachable shower head and you put it to good use just like you promised. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out his name and hold onto the wall to stabilize yourself. You’re looking forward to the next time you’ll get your hands on him.

Thursday finally rolls around and it’s an absolute nightmare of a shift. There’s something sinister in the air that has kids vomiting, teenagers talking through movies, and best of all adults fighting at a screening of Showgirls of all movies. It’s safe to say that you and Simon don’t get much time together. You’re taking turns taking care of whatever problem pops up while the other tries to work the snack bar as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s not till you get everyone out of the building that a slight sense of peace washes over you. You and Simon are taking your time to clean up each theater. Once you’re finally alone in the lobby with Simon you open your mouth to start a conversation but Eli interrupts before you can even get a word out.

“I’ve got a family emergency going on. I trust you both to lock up and count the money. Don’t fuck it up, yeah?” He says quickly before tossing the keys to Simon and heading for the door. Simon runs to lock the doors behind him, finally making his way over to you. Simon leans against the counter, admiring how you look in the outfit you chose today. You’re grateful there’s no uniform and that the dress code is so relaxed. You’re in a black sweater and a black skirt that sits just above your knee. Simon has spent his whole shift imagining getting down on his knees and hiking it up to eat you out. If he had a little less self control he might’ve pulled you into the supply closet to lift it up and get a peek at what panties you were wearing that night.

“We’re finally fucking alone…” He mutters, taking his time as he looks you up and down.

“This is close to being the worst shift I’ve ever worked,” You groan, leaning forward against the counter.

“Well…since we have the keys to the office do you wanna go watch those guys fighting from earlier?”

Your eyes light up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across your face. “Oh hell yes! Let me grab some popcorn first, they looked pretty bloody getting escorted out so I know this is gonna be some good shit!” You grab a small tub and fill it with popcorn, slathering it in butter. You walk with Simon to the office, making yourselves comfortable on some rolly chairs. You watch as Simon figures out how to reverse the cameras, going back until he finds right before the fight starts. The film played on the big screen when a man leaned over to a woman to say something, the man in the row behind him threw a handful of popcorn at them, a valid reaction to someone talking during a movie. It doesn’t take long for the man sitting behind the couple to drag the other guy out of his seat, a fight breaking out instantaneously, “Goddamn!” Simon grabs the popcorn bucket from your hands, spilling butter onto your exposed legs in the process.

You groan, “Simon you got butter all over my legs, what the hell?!” You reach for a napkin but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

He looks at you with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.” You watch as he pauses the camera footage and gets out of his chair, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“What the hell are you-”

He cuts you off by spreading your thighs, “I told you, I’m gonna clean you up.” You watch with wide eyes as he starts by licking the butter that splashed onto your knees, he’s thorough about it, making sure he gets every last bit of it. He slowly moves his way up your legs as you watch, biting your lower lip softly. “Pull your skirt back.”

You mindlessly do as he says, spreading your legs wider instinctively. He can see your underwear now, plain black cotton panties with a lace edge, a small white flower sewn onto the front. He licks up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core as he cleans you up. Soon you can feel his breath against your core, he turns his head to kiss your inner thighs. What starts as soft kisses quickly turns into him leaving an array of hickeys on your inner thighs. He’s marking you possessively. You reach down and grab him by his hair, pulling him out from between your thighs. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed. “Let me take my skirt off first, I didn’t know you’d be so…eager.” You stand from the chair and push your left foot forward, “Wanna take my shoes off for me, puppy?”

He nods and begins to unzip your boots, helping you remove them carefully, setting them aside. He watches as you unzip your skirt and let it fall down to the floor, you step out of it and watch as he picks it up and folds it carefully, setting it next to your shoes. You sit back down, spreading your legs for him, sitting on the edge of the chair. You giggle as he pulls you forward by the chair. He starts to place soft kisses on your hips, smiling shamelessly as he does. “You’re so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for my whole shift. You know that?”

You blush like a schoolgirl, “You’re full of it…”

“I’m serious. Let me worship you, please. You deserve it…” He pleads.

“I’ll allow it…I guess…” You mutter sarcastically, leaning your head back as you watch him.

He carefully bites down on your waistband, trying to pull down your panties. You lift your hips to help him as you watch in amusement. You look down at him with your mouth agape as you watch him tuck the pair into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need those back y’know,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Not happening, sorry. Maybe I wanna start a collection,” he teases.

“Are you always this bratty?”

He pretends to think about it, “Maybe.”

“Prick.”

He shoves his head back between your thighs, you sigh as you feel his warm breath against your now exposed cunt. His movements are slow and teasing as he places a kiss on your clit before sucking on it, pulling away and giggling at how your hands curl against the chair. He leans down to lick up your slit, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit. You whine, your eyes fluttering. It’s been too long since someone besides yourself has touched you. He brings a hand up to hold your hips steady, his other hand coming up to your folds. He spreads you open, teasing your slit with his tongue as he reaches up to pinch your clit. He chuckles to himself when you gasp, huffing in pain and annoyance at his teasing action. He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, scissoring them to spread you open as he leans forward and takes your clit into his mouth. He’s better at this than you could’ve imagined, pleasure washing over you as he pumps his fingers inside of you, curling them as he works to push deeper and deeper.

“Jesus fuck Simon, guess there wasn’t much else to do in Shadyside huh?” You joke breathlessly, a whimper escaping your lips directly after. You’re a mess from his touch, you can feel him smirk against you. He is pretty proud of his skills.

He starts to push his fingers deeper within you until he’s hitting just the right spot with every curl of his fingers. He pulls away from your clit, blowing on it, loving how it makes you squirm. You’re so responsive you’re driving him insane. He can’t help when he parts his thighs and settles his crotch against your leg. He starts to hump your leg like a bitch in heat as he returns to sucking your clit. The sight alone is enough to make your eyes roll back. You can’t believe how pathetic he’s making himself without even trying. You wanna drag him by his hair and make him your bitch, keep him on his knees in your dorm for your own entertainment. He whimpers and whines pathetically against your clit as he ruts against you, matching the pace of his fingers. You reach down to pull his face closer against your clit, moaning his name softly as you feel him whine against you. If this is on tape you want a copy. You’d play it till it fell apart and became unwatchable. He nips at your inner thighs before returning his attention back where you need it most. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, before diving back in headfirst. He shoves his tongue inside of you, picking back up where he left off. He eats pussy like a man starved, lapping up every bit he can get, curling his tongue to find the spot you need most. With how his nose presses against your clit you can’t take much more, holding his hair as tight as you can as your hips buck against his face. You whimper his name, a string of curses leaving your lips as you come. He works you through it, pulling back to let you catch your breath. A smug smile adorns his face as he looks at you, fucked out and panting.

“Gotta clean you up…” He mumbles, leaning back in to clean the cum off your thighs. He continues humping your leg as he does, mumbling your name and whimpering every now and then. He’s so desperate for it that you can’t help yourself from helping him out, bouncing your leg in sync with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before he’s a panting mess just like you. He’s made a mess of his briefs and he couldn’t care less. He rests his head on your knee, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Can we do this all the time? Not hooking up at work…but just like hooking up…and going on dates? Fuck…I really want you to be mine, I know if I don’t ask now someone else will try to swoop in and-”

You cut him off, “Yes Simon, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He beams up at you, lifting himself up to kiss you, cupping your face. You can taste yourself on his tongue but with how he’s kissing you it doesn’t matter. You pull him closer by his hair, it’s as if you’re trying to melt into his touch completely. You’re both putty beneath one another. When he pulls away he smiles at you with flushed cheeks.

Your eyes go wide in realization, “Simon.”

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding lovesick.

“We need to finish closing.”

“Oh shit!” He stands up and grabs your skirt off the floor and throws it at you. “Get dressed, I’m gonna finish cleaning the lobby, you count the money and I’ll recount it after!” He runs out of the office and back to where the two of you had been cleaning before. You laugh to yourself and redress, heading to the bathroom to wash your hands before going back and counting the money. Simon comes in and recounts when he’s done, before locking up the safe and heading to the break room to grab his things. You stand by the front doors, smiling to yourself as he jogs over, keys in hand.

“I think we’re the best closers Eli has ever had!” He beams as he goes to set the alarm.

“Probably his only closers to fuck around in the office,” you scoff.

Simon unlocks the door for you, opening it and letting you walk ahead of him to the next set of doors. He’s quick to relock the door before doing the same with the next set. “The other closers probably use the break room for that…or the bathrooms.”

“As hot as that was you’re never eating me out in the bathrooms, I’ve seen too much shit to ever let that happen in there.”

“Fair enough…” He walks you to your car, his arm around your waist. He presses you against the driver side door and kisses you for the last time that night. “On a night we’re both off I’ll take you on a real date, promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, leaning your head against his.

“You drive safe.”

“I will if you do,” you retort.

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from you, “I better see you alive and well for your next shift.”

“I’ll do my best, boss.” You slip into your car and lean your head against the headrest. You smile to yourself until you realize Simon still has your underwear. “Oh goddammit!”

#fred hechinger #fred hechinger imagine #fred hechinger x reader #fred hechinger x you #fred hechinger fanfic #simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda smut #simon kalivoda x you #fear street 1994 #simon kalivoda/you #simon kalivoda/reader #fred hechinger/reader #fred hechinger/you #college au!simon kalivoda

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softfem-dom · 4 months ago

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heyy, would you mind doing some ponyboy x reader hcs? ty pretty💗

someone in the crowd ponyboy curtis headcanons

synopsis :

what would happen if Ponyboy Curtis got puppy love for a bloke from his course and made it the whole gang's problem?

or headcanons for Ponyboy Curtis falling for you.

wordcount : 2.6k — masterlist 𝜗𝜚 navigation post

tags/warnings third person pov, cuss words, the gang bullying ponyboy for being a simp, reader is a recurring actress in the school's plays.

"ugh, this is just shit, man, I'm leaving" was what Dallas groaned before sstanding up from his seat, ignoring the people telling him to sit down, and walking out from the school hall. Nobody of the gang said anything, it was already a miracle he had stayed so long through the play. "remember me why we're here again?" Two-Bit leaned towards Ponyboy, pruposely getting into his face, as to what the youngest Crutis shoved him away with a 'shut your traps'. "Pony wanted to see the school play" answered Darrel, sat to his brother's other side with his arms crossed. Everyone could tell he was glad that the plans the gang had made didn't include anything that would get them into trouble for once. Then, the spotlight changed position from the scene going on —some people talking— to the right corner of the stage, and then you entered the scene. All the eyes of the gang drifted to Pony's face, the way his eyes widened slightly as if he wanted to take it all in when the spotlight shone on you. And, suddenly, everyone knew why Ponyboy wanted to watch the school play. "oh! You've got it bad, man!" Steve laughed behind his hand, straining his arm to roughly pat Pony's shoulder. "he's got puppy love" Sodapop added on with a smirk while Johnny fought back a soft chuckle. They knew it was true by the way the youngest Curtis was too busy staring at you with sparkling eyes to bother denying the current accusations.

⮞ you met because you got put as desk partners at the start of 10th year.

⮞ you hit it off quite well in the first day of school because you had brought a book with you and he caught glimpse of it peeking from your schoolbag. ^turns out he was reading it aswell and more-or-less in the same page as you so started talking about it.

⮞ Pony and you were considered the least troublesome kids in the class, the calmest, so you got placed really far behind.

⮞ which came really in handy when it came to whispery-chatting in the middle of class.

⮞ the teacher never notices your stiffled giggles behind your palm when he pases you a note with a funny drawing of the teacher scribbled on it.

⮞ you spend half of the school day passing notes from table to table and pretending to be paying extreme attention whenever the rare occasion of the teacher's eyes drifting to the back desks happens.

⮞ you two always pair up as partners when the P.E teacher says to get in pairs.

⮞ he always mocks you for running slower than him.

⮞ one time the class was in the patio of the school and the teacher told you all to do the wheelbarrow with your partner (y'know you using your hands to walk while Pony held your legs to his waist).

⮞ he tripped over a rock and you both fell face first to the ground with him on your back.

⮞ Dallas had just walked by the school to spy on Pony and saw the whole thing from the fence. He laughed so loud you were sure it was heard up to the second floor before yelling "use protection, Pony!" and running off when the teacher started walking over to the fence to kick him out.

⮞ after a two months of this friendship, the school plays started to get planned and you decided you wanted to join the drama club to take part.

⮞ you tried to convince Pony but he refused with burning determination. "the guys will make fun of me until the day I die, man!" was his answer when you suggested it.

⮞ you told him you still thought he'd make a great actor, and he felt a strange warmth in his chest and cheeks.

⮞ ever since that moment, he found himself noticing that strange warmth more often. Especially whenever your laugh came out louder than normal, wheezier too, when his joke was particularly funny.

⮞ he constantly caught himself smiling just because you were smiling, as if it was contagious.

⮞ he introduced you to Johnny then, and you two got along pretty well.

⮞ after the first meeting with Johnny, you three started to hang out at least once a week.

⮞ he and Johnny sometimes helped you out with your rehearsals, they always made sure to make it extra damatric and get into their roles a lot.

⮞ that was then, during one of those 'rehearsals' days, you three ended up at the lot to keep Johnny company. Cuddled up into one another, and when Pony felt your hand on his arm his heart actually lurched in his chest. his cheeks were burning hot and not from the warmth of the fire.

⮞ he realized then that he had fallen.

⮞ really hard.

⮞ between your hours sharing desk at school, the hang-outs with Johnny and the rehearsals, your play eventually came around and he actually begged Darry to let him go see it.

⮞ Darry refused at first when Pony suggested it, he thought that Pony going alone to a school hall full of socs for a play was the perfect recipe for disaster.

⮞ but then Pony actually started stringing 'please's togheter and he actually got down on his knees and clasped his hands.

⮞ so dramatic.

⮞ Darry was flabbergasted at that.

⮞ fully blinking and staring down at Pony without knowing what to say, his hands frozen at his sides in confusion.

⮞ after his little brother pulled that stunt he agreed to let him go, but only if they all went.

⮞ Dallas agreed reluctantly just because Johnny was actually excited about it.

⮞ the gang actually behaved themselves for the most part during the play, except Dallas who left 23 minutes in to go have a 'smoke break'.

⮞ he didn't come back from that break lol.

⮞ when they all saw the way Pony leaned over, eyes wide and sparkling with wonder, when the spotlight shone on you and you entered scene, they knew he was whipped.

⮞ after that Two-Bit and Steve spent the rest of the play making kissy faces anytime you came on scene.

⮞ Darry was actually not so surprised about this, since he was already smelling something coming if Pony had begged him to go for a school play for the first time in his whole life. ^he was actually happy for his little brother though, you seemed like a sweet bloke.

⮞ Johnny was just chuckling quietly, covering them up with his hand, and Soda was constantly sending him playful looks knowing that the tan boy had known this for far longer than all of them.

⮞ needless to say Ponyboy ran backstage as soon as the final bow ended and all the actors and actress disappeared from the stage.

⮞ he pretty much ran into your arms as soon as he caught glimpse of you, full on squeezing you with eyes full of wonder as he rambled about how good you had been out there while you giggled all flushed from the shower of compliments.

⮞ that was when..

"ahem" Steve faked a cough with a smirk, getting elbowed and 'shh!'ed by Soda right after, eyeing you two with an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk. Ponyboy got red pretty fast, awkwardly patting your arms before finally loosening his grip. Formal introductions had finally came around. "oh, yeah, um.." he started with a nervous chuckle, his hand going to scratch at the back of his neck as he turned to face his gang —all displaying knowing smirks. "guys, so this is-" You interrupted him by saying your name all sweetly, with a wave and cheeks still rosy, that made Pony's smile turn even goofier than before. He was a dork. "yeah" he hummed, eyes staring at you as if starstruck, which made Two-Bit say. "snap out of it man" Pony rolled his eyes before starting to point at each greaser now standing infront of you two. "those are my brothers, Darry and Soda" he pointed at them, Darry smiled with a polite nod and Soda winked. "that's Two-Bit" the mentioned made an over-exaggerated bow that made Pony groan. "Steve" he added, pointing at the teenager standing with his arm resting on Soda's shoulder. "and you already know Johnny-" However, before he could finish that statement, a certain someone came bursting in with a half-burned cigarrette hanging from his lips. He let out a low whistle at seeing you Pony and you togheter. "ain't that the bloke you fell over in P.E, man?" Dallas spoke with his eyebrows high, making the whole gang —plus you—burst into chuckles. "shut your traps, Dallas!"

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jsdimensions · 3 months ago

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have a sketch of a sprite redraw for my beloved body swap au that i'll make into a fanfic once i catch up on all of the crk lore :))

#we're all just actors on-stage #is the title #or i could just call it #on-stage au #i love sprite redraws. theyre so fun #yes the au is named after a stomach book lyric #crk #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie #technically ->#pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla cookie #look i made a thing

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felassan · 2 months ago

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Excerpts from [this] Entertainment Weekly article:

"[Jennifer] Hale believes one of the biggest misconceptions about what they do is the skill required. "The work we do in games — this does not cover performance capture but in voice capture — is 85 to 90 percent cold reading," she says. "The entirety of Mass Effect, I saw no line before the moment I recorded it. It was all cold reading on the spot. A couple takes, maybe a few, and it goes out to market. That's it." She notes that this scenario isn't much different even now. "So voice performers have to be incredibly skilled in the game arena, even more so than in other arenas," Hale continues. "It's extraordinarily demanding." With Mass Effect, one of her more widely recognized projects as the voice of Commander Shepard, Hale remembers a specific experience when she attended the 2010 Spike Video Game Awards (a predecessor to today's Game Awards) as a nominee in the "Best Performance by a Human Female" category. "A voice performer was very much treated like the utensils on the table," she describes. "I really appreciated being invited, but I had an experience where I waited and waited and waited for my category to be announced. I had a 6-month-old at home who I was still nursing. I really was watching the clock. I finally sought out the stage manager toward the end of the show. He goes, 'What's your category?' And I told him the category. He said, 'Oh, we taped that earlier with the winner.' The dismissiveness of it — definitely I felt that.” However, Hale prides herself on the discipline she developed over time to focus less on those moments and more on the wins — and there have been clear wins in changing the perception around the acting part of the craft, something she has seen happen more in the past five to seven years." [...] On the same topic, Hale looks back to the evolution of voice acting between the releases of Mass Effect (2007) and Mass Effect 2 (2010) alone. "In the beginning, the visuals technologically were where they were, and we had to be slightly presentational to push what was happening," she notes. "But as those visuals became so much more hyperrealistic, we could actually drop back and do one of my favorite things. Thought registers on camera. Now we're in the space where we can relax and allow thought to just register on the mic." [...] [UPDATE: Just hours before this article went live, SAG-AFTRA told its members in a memo that the companies' latest proposals contained "alarming loopholes that will leave our members vulnerable to A.I. abuse."] Newbon agrees A.I. is a real problem, but folks like Hale and Goldman aren't so concerned with A.I. replacements. They're confident players are more prone to connect with a character if there's a real performer behind it. Kniebihly agrees. "There's no doubt that the industry is going through a challenging time. Layoffs, budget cuts, and uncertainty have made it clear that nothing is guaranteed — even for successful studios," he says. "To me, what makes this job interesting in the first place is that weird, intangible chemistry between an actor and a director. It's the trust at the core of that relationship that pushes everyone to give the best of themselves and creates more than the sum of its parts. And I'm not going to get that from A.I. anytime soon.""

[source]

#bioware #mass effect #video games #long post #longpost

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wombywoo · 2 years ago

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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steveshairychest · 2 years ago

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Thinking about a deaf actor Steve Harrington x sign language interpreter Eddie Munson au.

Thinking about them doing interviews together and half the time it's just Eddie rolling his eyes and signing to Steve 'This guy asks really shit questions.' 'He thinks you're hot, can I tell him we're dating?' They weren't even dating yet. A lot of the time, Eddie has to smile and sign, 'He told a bad joke, laugh.' 'Too much, it wasn't that funny.'

Thinking about Steve eventually learning how to lip read and not needing Eddie to interpret as much but still bringing him to every event because having Eddie by his side just feels right, they're best friends after all.

Seeing them together becomes such a common sight that when they're on their own, they're immediately asked where the other is. A popular picture of Eddie features him wearing a shirt that says, 'Steve's not with me. Leave me alone' and it covers magazines for weeks.

Thinking about Steve finally getting the courage to confess to Eddie while he's standing up on stage after winning an award.

They've both been too scared to say anything, scared that talking about their feelings would ruin their friendship, but standing up there on that stage, Steve decides he doesn't want to be scared anymore. He signs, 'I love you' directly to Eddie, who's sat in the front row as Steve's plus one, and Eddie laughs, cries, and signs it right back at Steve.

#disappears in a cloud of smoke #now i have to work on my bang fic #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4

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pigeonentity · 4 months ago

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au where gabriel uses the peacock instead of emilie, and she's the one left with two miraculous and a child

she inherits the gabriel brand. it's her brand now, ppl have to know it or it doesnt count, but changing name and logo isnt great for business-- people want to buy gabriel, not emilie, so the g is now for graham de vanily. she and adrien change their last names to match, and soon she is cleaning them from gabriel entirely, before his death can stain her as gabriel's emilie, rather than just emilie. she needs them to love her. she cared for gabriel, but she has no use for a husband who can't love anything anymore

she starts dating nathalie to finish cutting all ties with him. it isnt really fair on her, emilie just needs her to tell ppl she's moved on. but it's good to know she's beaten gabriel in one more bid for devotion

its funny. she never resented him much in life. in death, she notes he has more billboards than her up in the city. her billboards now, but theyre his. in death, she sees him over her shoulder in her mirror. she gets cast as a grieving widower in her next performance. she gets the hint. she seizes the hint and throws it out the window. she takes the role and pushes for more agency for her character. she cannot be truly loved without her agency

speaking of. adrien doesnt get to go to school. he follows her around most days, and he smiles when she asks. he never took to the stage, but he's an actor in his own right, in his own way. and he's hers.

and it's not enough. nathalie's love grows lazy as emilie breaks up to cause a scandal. they script it out themselves. nathalie watches adrien out the window. emilie kisses her to turn her gaze back. adrien is always in the garden. she tells him to come inside. she tells him to love her. it used to feel less hollow.

she wishes she could be sure it was all true

she wishes.

she wishes, and nathalie is warmer when they have a mission, so emilie know this is the right thing to do. they know what they have, and what they need, for a wish

emilie transforms, and makes a monster of someone's love

suddenly, the whole world is watching

two girls come out with the cat and ladybug. adrien is safe at home. two girls come out and they're heroes and they're here for her. for her!

nooroo loves her. nooroo says that, at least. she could care less, busy in the glory of her enemies' company, drunk on magic, having the time of her life with a purpose reborn. this is where she is meant to be-- centre stage, on every screen. they set their phones to notify them of her presence. it's always a surprise and they're always quick to know. the news loves to see what she makes. nathalie says she's straying from her goal, if she cares. the people say she's a monster. they just don't understand love

in the end-- in the end the heroes practically offer themselves up to her. there are more of them by then. she wasnt expecting it to be so soon, or she would have dressed for the occasion. would have made a spectacle of it. adrien had been dragged into their circle. they chose a bad miraculous for him. she shouldn't have let him stray from his mother

they're just tired of her. it's been a year and emilie graham de vanily is a recluse. butterfly attacks are constant and emilie barely exists anymore. it was beautiful, though. but they're tired of her. they're sick and they hurt and it's her fault, they say. they're breaking and it's her fault. that's love, isn't it? isn't it? it tastes beautiful. she built this all out of love, do they know that? the feelings just look so heavy and pretty and she's so good at making them hurt.

we're tired, they say, again

she takes their miraculous. she gets to her wish. what did she want to wish for again? love. she wanted love.

she sees gabriel again. it's been too long. she didn't like that love. when it left she had nothing. he was everywhere, and-- he was nowhere. she doesn't think about that often. but it hurt. she didn't like that love

does she want real love? she had a family and one's dead and one's a traitor and one's torn and one's in england and who the fuck knows what happened to the rest of them

the spotlights were good, though. she danced so well. the heroes are all still watching. they want to know what she wants. they're interested.

in her.

she wishes. she wishes for it to never end

so it never does.

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buuberry00 · 3 months ago

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ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(•̀’◡’•̀)ﾉ I saw that your request is open

can I request off the record/actor au alien stage casts (+ hyunwoo if possible) reacting to their s/O (gn) surprise visiting them after they finish a shoot or are on break? I don't know your character limit or if you have one since this is my first time requesting from you, if 7 is too much then just the guys are fine, thank you and take care❤

Hi hi!! I'd love to take your request!! (my first alien stage req omg literally so excited!!) ────୨ৎ────

alien stage cast (+ hyunwoo) + gn! record/actor au! reader kinda ooc? no aliens involved since you asked for an au :)

tw: mentions of meds ────୨ৎ──── ⋆˚࿔ Till 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

"cut! let's take five."

Till wiped his brow, adjusting his clothes. he'd been on set all day, feet tired and his body stiff with exhaustion; filming a music video wasn't as fun as it seemed. he already had everything memorized, but the director was way too- nitpicky. Till found someplace to sit, rubbing his tired eyes. "sweetheart," your voice called out, almost like an angel descending from heaven to soothe Till's exhausted brain. he sat up immediately, the thought of exhaustion leaving his body immediately.

you, Till's partner, were the best part of his day. no matter how many times he'd sit in this very spot and record the same thing day- in and day- out, you'd be the very thing on his mind. "y/n," Till beamed, rising to his feet to engulf you in a hug. "I should've called you, told you I was in a shooting. 'm sorry." "no, that's okay," you pulled back to smile at him. "I get it, you're busy. I was, too. Just finished filming another scene of [show name]." Till nodded, hands resting on your waist, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. you were always just as busy as he was, yet never seemed stressed. or at least showed it. Till leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled back with a grin. "Lemme finish this scene then we can head out. pick up dinner and relax at home, 'kay?" "sure thing." you smiled. Till smiled; he couldn't wait to get home. your arms was where he felt safest, anyways.

⋆˚࿔ Luka 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Luka stood, handsome features highlighted under the dim lights of the recording studio. He held his violin, beautifully playing the notes on the sheet. his foot tapped along, a silent metronome, to help keep him in time. "guess we're done for today." his boss spoke up, arms crossed. a lazy, unbothered shrug left him. Luka nodded, setting his violin aside in its case before stepping out. He turned to get his drink and take a sip, but nearly choked when he felt arms wrap around his waist and squeeze. Luka peeked over his shoulder, but his expression lit up with pure joy at the sight of you. "y/n," he smiled, setting his drink down. wrapping his arms around your neck, your hands settled on his waist. "I was hoping I'd get to see your pretty face soon. I was missing you." "thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing." "ah, how thoughtful," he gently bumped his forehead into yours. "I'm taking care of myself, don't worry. I'm just glad you're here." "anytime," you leaned in to peck his lips. "I wanted to check in on you, though. make sure you were taking care of yourself. taking your meds, and all." Luka grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. he felt his chest grow warm with content. he did have a bad habit of forgetting to take his pills. "I've been taking care of myself, love, don't worry. Lemme pack up my stuff then we can head out." later, you cooked a nice meal and binged random shows, then fell asleep cuddled up on the couch.

'your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky'

⋆˚࿔ Ivan 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Ivan quietly sat alone in the breakroom, rehearsing his lines quietly. he was about to do a shooting for some photoshoot commercial. he had a habit of forgetting his lines when he got nervous. " .. 'This cologne is guaranteed to help boost self confidence'," Ivan murmured to himself, thick brows scrunched. ".. 'It h-helps me, too'..?" Ivan scoffed and sat back in his chair. he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a breath to ease his stressed mind. yet, when he opened his eyes, he came face- to - upside- down - face with you, his partner. Ivan blinked in surprise, sitting up and looking at you. "y/n," he blinked again. he rose to his feet and pulled you into a hug. .. he always acted like he hadn't seen you in years, yet saw you this morning at breakfast. Ivan pulled back and cupped your face, thumb stroking over your lower lip. "did something happen? you never just ... show up to visit me. is everything okay?" you laughed, hands coming up to encircle his wrists. you squeezed them gently in a reassuring manner. "everything's fine. just wanted to come visit my boyfriend. you're 'bouta film, right?" Ivan nodded, brows starting to furrow. you could easily tell he was anxious. poor baby. you reached up and smoothed out the furrow with your thumb. "you'll do great, honey," you smiled. "just take your time. no rush. take a deep breath and go for it. I believe in you." a soft smile pulled on Ivan's lips. he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

he was oh- so grateful for you.

⋆˚࿔ hyunwoo 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ (aged up, ofc)

hyunwoo's brows nervously furrowed. he paced, rereading his lines for what seemed to be the hundredth time. sure, he had only a few lines to memorize, but he was still super nervous. "hyunwoo," you came up behind him, hands finding their way above his. "you're pacing again, love." he sighed, leaning back into you. ".. 'm stressing out," he admitted. "I have to memorize these lines by this friday." you pressed a reassuring kiss to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him securely from behind. ".. don't worry, baby." you murmured, rubbing his belly. "just take it easy. one line at a time." Hyunwoo nodded quietly, muttering to himself his lines over and over again. He placed a hand over yours on his belly, a silent assurance that he was playing attention to you, as well. ────୨ৎ──── yay yay!! i hope you enjoyed it !!! feel free to req anything else if you'd like to! I'm so sorry I didn't include Mizi, Sua or Hyuna .. idk how much word count I have on tumblr.

either way ,, i hope you liked it!! have a wonderful day/night!!

-venus

#x reader #alien stage x reader #alien stage #luka alnst #ivan alnst #till alnst #hyunwoo alnst #gender neutral reader

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gotta-winwin · 4 months ago

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Wahhhh so excited for vernon x reader!!!!!!

Can i request something like idol!jun x reader, i really miss jun 🥹🥹🥹 maybe reader is on another hybe group and him surprising him, or anything HAHAHAHAH

actor!jun x idol!reader headcannons

a/n: wasn't exactly like the prompt you gave, anon, but i hope you still enjoy! we're all in our missing jun hours sadly :(( but it feels nice knowing he's thriving in the element he loves.

your shared google calendar is a hot mess.

The two of you have busy work schedules, as you juggle upcoming comebacks, award shows, reality and variety filming, meetings with the higher-ups - the day literally never ends. Jun is the same, always trying to balance his filming gigs and promotional side quests. It’s rare for the two of you to have a day off - let alone ALIGN your days together. Trust that your shared google calendar is a battlefield filled with colorful agendas and very minimal white space.

bad wifi is your everyday lifestyle.

Curse Jun and his gift of choosing acting gigs where their filming locations are always in the ass-crack of nowhere. You’re both well accustomed to facetime with spotty service, delayed speech and glitchy faces. It’s turned into quite the game, as you both attempt to screenshot the worst photo of each other possible, while still maintaining your own image and reputation. It’s a pain to communicate, constantly having Jun reply to something you had said minutes ago, but you two make it work.

dating rumors are a joke.

With both of you being well into the social media spotlight, you’re prone to many, many dating rumors throughout your career. It’s Ateez’s Mingi one day, then TBZ’s Haknyeon the next, Jun doesn’t even bat an eye at this point. He knows who he is at the end of the day - your boyfriend. On the other hand, it’s not the first time he’s gotten an earful from you about dating rumors with his pretty costars, although he knows it’s all in good fun. All it takes is one sweet sentence to get you to fold: “it’s you I’m coming home to lao po, besides, can’t you see how forced that kiss is? I kiss you with much, much more fervor than that.”

you see his friends more than you see him.

His friends run in the same circles as you do, all talented idols that often share your stage in performances. It’s funny to think you see them more often than you see him, although they’re always ready to tell you just how much Jun complains about your distance in their group chat, exposing you boyfriend to be the clingy lover he really is. They’ve aided you many times in sneaking away from your job to visit Jun, covering your ass so you can spend even just a couple hours with your boyfriend in China.

planes and airports are the ideal date spot.

It’s not rare to have the two of you go on a “date” at airports, using the special time your schedules cross over to spend time with each other. The airport buffets become your picnics, the lobby fountains hear all your well kept wishes and the seating area has seen…one too many things.

your jokes are the world’s jokes

Jun loves slipping little tidbits of your shared life into his work, nudging the writer of whatever project he’s starring in to add a couple lines referencing something only the two of you would know. He loves your shocked expression when the project finally airs to the world, his phone blowing up with loving texts as you swallow the idea that your lover has included you in his work. It’s just his talent - Jun somehow finds a way to bring you everywhere with him.

your love is the world’s love

You would never admit it on camera, but most of your lyrics and songs are either written with or written about Jun. While everyone else is scrambling to figure out just how you do it, you and Jun can rest easy knowing it’s your shared secret, along with your secret romance.

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt jun #seventeen jun #wen junhui #jun x reader #moon junhui #seventeen fluff #seventeen headcanons

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theinternetisfulloftrash · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left.

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest.

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply.

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message.

‘Newark!?’

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand.

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back.

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!”

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more.

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?”

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.”

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you.

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else.

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him.

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait.

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.”

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair.

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin.

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms.

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.”

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own.

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants.

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin.

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest.

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…”

You swallowed thickly.

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.”

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank.

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours.

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity.

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet.

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down.

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor.

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would.

“Please…” you whispered.

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed.

He smiled and shook his head.

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear.

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk.

“Too late.”

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.”

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours.

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline.

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner.

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms.

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue.

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest.

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back.

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck.

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass.

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled.

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.”

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.”

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him.

“Relentless fucking tease–”

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again.

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.”

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet.

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering.

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm.

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with.

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers.

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan.

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth.

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe.

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds.

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out.

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt.

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out.

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall.

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable.

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones.

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–”

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip.

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot.

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck.

“I love you so fucking much.”

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.”

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.”

#Dylan O'Brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #trashy writing #welcome home fic #I mean... is this earth-shattering work?#nah #but hey!#I wrote something creative for the first time in a long time and that felt really good actually #so I hope you guys like this #MUCH LOVE CUTIESSS!!!!#time to go vomit because posting writing make me feel so anxious I wanna die

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