#and are we watching the same content because every clip I see of him he’s never blaming anyone else for his own faults

[cx-boxbox]

To all the Lando haters who scream about his so-called huge ego, have you considered that maybe you’re the one with a huge ego and nothing to back it up?

[munsonstorm]

Childproof

my main masterlist

pairing: johnny storm x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k words

description: sue announces her pregnancy. johnny is elated for his big sister. but it makes you feel some type of way when you know he wants kids of his own. something you're not very sure you want.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no spoilers for f4 really, no use of y/n, reader is 18+, established relationship, basically pwp, talks of use of birth control, reader is afraid of being pregnant, johnny is a menace, johnny the Dom, sub!reader, uses of "daddy" and "momma", heavy on the breeding kink, lots of dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering, exhibitionism, creampie, no real aftercare lol

authors note: hey..... this came to me before i even watched the movie. i watched that one clip and was like yeah.... i'm horny. anyway. saw the movie, loved it and needed to write more for this doofus. also coming up with the title made me giggle. if you get it, lemme know. hope y'all enjoy!

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @saradika-graphics

Johnny knew how to get under your skin. He loved it. 

You and Ben had just completed dinner, working for over an hour on perfecting his famous red sauce. Johnny had been bothering you two the entire time, pestering you specifically on how much longer it would be.

“We have dinner at the same time every night, Johnny,” You bite as you butter the bread. He did not let up, asking you to elaborate. He loved seeing your face get red and your lips opening up to let out a long sigh. 

Once everything was plated and the table was set, you sat down at the table. You turn everyone’s forks and knives the right way as Ben sprinkles some more Italian seasoning over the pasta.

Johnny slams down in the chair next to you, a big box of Lucky Charms in his grip. Ben immediately takes note of it before you can even say anything.

“What are you doing?” He asks Johnny, his voice sort of small with a slight offense to it. 

Johnny takes a handful of the cereal and dumps it in his mouth. “What do you mean, what am I doing?”

You peer at him, annoyed, already on edge with him today. He had been extra irritating today after you rejected his morning advances. You swore the man needed you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

“You are going to ruin your appetite,” You say, grabbing the box from him. His bright blue eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he dumped the rest of the handful he had into his mouth.

“‘M hungry, baby.”

You grit your teeth, ignoring the question Ben had posed about Sue and Reed being late to dinner. Everyone always arrived before the set time, and by the looks of it, they were about 5 minutes late. You check your small watch front, humming a response. You hear some footsteps from across the living room, and see the two of them looking like they just got caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

“You’re late,” Johnny shouts to them, dusting his hands off over his clean plate. You grit your teeth. Why was he like this?

Reed and Sue stop dead in their tracks. 

“What, uh, what do you mean?” Sue poses, slowly walking forward to her usual spot at the table. Johnny rolls his eyes again, and you silently plot how you could get away to stab him with your fork.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’re late for dinner,” Johnny explains, pulling his napkin into his lap, just like you taught him. Took him years to figure out how to prevent so many stains on his clothing until you came around and completely changed his entire world.

Sue and Reed go into an elaborate explanation as to why they took so long, but you sensed a shift. Reed never had a good poker face, his big brown eyes giving him away immediately. 

Ben noticed, too, because he shot you a look.

“Why are you being weird?” Johnny asks, noticing their behavior to be rather off. 

They go into more word vomit, and you cannot help but let a smirk spread across your face. 

Ben quips up, “Are you pregnant?”

Sue’s face instantly shifts into a smile as she lets out some air from her nose, “Yeah, I’m pregnant.”

She and Ben stand up together, hugging one another in celebration. Reed gets up as well to join in on the embraces after he rattles off some weird and awkward gestures towards a flabbergasted Johnny. You shift out of your chair, grabbing him for a hug, whispering excited congratulations. 

Johnny is sitting there completely astonished. “What? Really?”

You all look to him, still seated at the table. Sue nods, giving him a confident ‘yeah’. And then the celebration gets even bigger, with Johnny slamming his hands on the table. You are still half hugging Reed, slowly pulling away, watching Johnny lift his sister in the air, and telling her how great of a mother she would be. When he grabs Reed, he tells him how he’s going to be out of his depth. He’s always one to pull something mean out of the depths of his mind to lay into Reed. You pat Reed’s shoulder, whispering to him to ignore his jab. 

You hug Sue and tell her congratulations. She gives you a squeeze, thanking you. Johnny grabs onto Ben as you pull away, “We are going to be the best uncles ever!”

You giggle, enjoying the excited look on Johnny’s face. He may be more thrilled than anyone else here. 

-

After Johnny got his powers, you two decided it was probably best not to have children. With every scientist you know telling you it would be fine to have a mutant’s baby, you were still unsure. Even Reed had brought up the possibility, and that’s why he and Sue had given up on it for a while.

You did not know that they never really wanted to give up trying. 

But you had done some semi-permanent things to ensure you would not get pregnant by your needy, insatiable boyfriend. Birth control. A small little pill you would take every morning with some orange juice and toast. 

It had worked for the year that you two had been together, and you were confident that you would not have to carry his child until you knew 100% what you wanted to do. 

But now a baby would be directly in your lives, and you had heard what baby fever can do to people. You were still sure you did not want a child, but the way Johnny is just blissful on the idea of having a nephew, you knew he would bring it up again. 

And you were right. Seeing his sister and brother-in-law beaming over the prospect of their future child made him envious. He always wanted a little Johnny, a little you, but he understood your hesitancy. He respected it, of course, but there was now a nagging voice in his head that said if he didn’t do it now, it would never happen. 

Dinner is finished in less than an hour, and you and Johnny take up the responsibility of cleaning up with H.E.R.B.I.E. Mainly, it was you cleaning off the table and stacking dishes while the robot did the rest. You still liked to busy yourself with tasks, making yourself seem useful to the team due to your lack of superhero abilities. You were essentially just their publicist and managed their daily lives at home while they went off to save the world. 

You begin to wipe up the dinner table. Johnny creeps behind you, his hands shifting over your waist. He loved seeing you doing domestic activities. You were so pretty in your blue half-sleeved top, tucked into some high-waisted black trousers.

“You do not need to be cleaning, beautiful,” He hums into your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. 

“Let me finish what I’m doing,” You demand, scrubbing off some sauce he had spilled off his plate. By the way his warm hands rested where your shirt rode up slightly, you knew what he was trying to do. 

He could sense some tension off of you, but refused to move away from you, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” You lie, your mind still settling with the exciting news, “I am just tired, is all.”

“I think you’re lying, sweet cheeks.” He pulls your hips closer to him, his back against your shoulder blades, “Tell me what’s on your mind, hm?”

You could not lie much longer, “I’m more worried about what’s on your mind.”

He halts any more movements, using his grip on your hips to turn you around. He was not expecting such a response. You knew he would never pressure you to do something you did not want to do. So you must be referring to something else. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, your eyes shifting towards the floor over his shoulder before reluctantly returning to his piercing gaze, “You seem excited about the baby.”

He furrows his brows. You always thought he was always so painfully clueless when it mattered most. But the truth was, he did not understand why your response would be so bitter about his excitement.

His head shifts down towards you, “Of course, I am. I know how much Sue wanted it.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Yeah, I know.”

You were starting to feel a bit dumb and dramatic about the whole thing. At the end of the day, you are excited for them. You like children for the most part, and it will keep the public off you and Johnny’s ass for 9 months. They won’t bother you about the timeline of your future child. Truthfully, you just hated the questions. There is almost a demand to produce the next generation of the Fantastic Four.

“Then what’s the big deal, beautiful? Why are you being weird about it?” His hands press into your hips in a possessive and needy way. You brush those thoughts off, knowing Johnny is doing it without even thinking twice.

But then the look he gave you during dinner started to enter your mind.

The longing.

“'Cause it’s only a matter of time before you start asking again.”

His hands still, “Asking for what? A baby?”

You slap his shoulders in frustration, “Yes!”

H.E.R.B.I.E takes his leave, knowing this could get heated quickly. He beeps his goodbye, heading down the hallway to the charging port that is set up for him. You grit your teeth, looking at Johnny’s silly expression, watching the robot roll away. 

Johnny cannot help but play oblivious, now. After you clarified for him, his mind was now plotting the ways he could sidetrack the conversation. He knew exactly what you were saying, but it’s so much sweeter when you lay it all out for him, your bubbling frustration only gets him off. And you knew that, which only annoyed you more. You usually fought spelling it out for him, but with a conversation like this, you wanted to be explicitly clear.

He sighs, shaking his head dramatically. “Of course I want a family with you, baby.”

“Well, we can’t. Not right now.”

Johnny smiles knowingly, slowly slipping into that cheeky smirk he gives you when he lets you win an argument. “Well, yeah, I know that.”

“Okay, good.”

Hands slip down your hips, reaching back to your rear and palming the flesh, “I would never put that responsibility on you. You know that?”

He drags out his fondling, his fingers rubbing closer and closer to your crack. His hands are wandering to places he only touched you in private. You want to smack him away, but he feels so good, you refuse to bother to reprimand him.

“Yes, I know,” You squeak, your hands now wrapping around the nape of his neck to almost pull him closer. After rejecting him this morning, you spent most of the day regretting not lazing in bed with him until noon. That option was always on the table, but today you were adamant about getting work done. What an idiot you were.

“Good…”

His head dips down to trail kisses on your jaw, down to your pulse point on your neck. Your fingers rake through his blond locks, holding his face close to you. His hands do not stop moving, tracing the line where your ass meets the top of your thighs. 

“You know what, though?” He ponders, his lips cresting the edge of your ear. He returns you to your previous position with a quick pull of your hips. Your ass is now pressed against him as your front half is practically folded over the white countertop. “It’s not stoppin’ me from acting like I can put one in you.”

“Johnny,” you warn, eyes fluttering close at the thought.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss right below your ear on your already sensitive neck, “Come on, baby. We can do it in a hypothetical sense.”

You breathe out a long sigh, knowing this was a terrible idea. You give Johnny an inch and he runs a mile. Even pretending he could get you pregnant felt like manifesting it. “Why, though?”

“Cause it’s hot to imagine,” He states, his hands traveling slowly between your thighs. You can feel him growing in his pants with the way his hips are practically melted into your backside, “Just thinking about fucking you full until you are dripping and full of my seed.”

“Johnny, please.”

“Oh, now you’re begging for it?” His hands warm up, like a reflex to get the truth out of you. Fingers spreading over your lower tummy as he lifts your top. You cannot stop the moans that leave your lips. 

“No,” you try to say with an ounce of confidence. He just giggles, his teeth starting to toy with your earlobe.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” His hand dips under your pants, not even bothering with the button. “I’ll give you that baby I want so badly.”

His words are so filthy. They always were. But these ones held an odd amount of weight. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, feeling his fingers go past your panties and seeking out your soaked slit. Once his fingers slide between your lips, a choked-out gasp leaves his lips. His words were enough to get you this wet. It fuels his ego every time.

Your body jolts, hands finding a spot on the counter to grip onto. There’s nothing to grab onto, so you let Johnny take control. 

“You would be so fucking beautiful pregnant, you know?” His fingers dip further into you, and you surrender, laying your upper body on the freezing marble. He fucks you slowly, dragging his fingers in and out of your wet center with precision, “God, I’m so fuckin’ hard imagining it. All round with my baby.”

His other hand pulls you upward, resting right where your womb is. You know how effective your birth control is, so you know his words are just words. But god, are those words making you a mess. 

“Shit,” You gasp, practically out of breath as he toys with your hole, “I can actually see the appeal of these hypotheticals.”

“Yeah?” His nose bumps the shell of your ear, “You like imagining making me a daddy?”

“Jesus, Johnny,” You sigh, as his fingers pull out of you, the wetness of your core dragging up to your tummy. He finally pops the button on your pants and shoves them down around your ankles. Your pants were quite tight, so you decided a seamless thong would suit the outfit. Johnny thanks his lucky stars for your usually-dragging-morning-brain for being so brilliant. 

“We are going to get caught-”

“Everyone is in bed,” He replies quickly, not letting you finish your thought. He’s already shoving his pants down with one hand still resting on your body. “Just let me do what you deprived me of this morning.”

“Deprived you?” you quip, turning to face him. He does not take kindly to your movement, grabbing your hips and pressing them into the edge of the counter again. 

You hated to admit that you loved it when he dominated you in this way. He was such a playful presence in day-to-day life, but when the switch flipped inside him, you were like sand between his fingers.

His palm comes down, slapping your ass. “Behave.”

You bite your lip and nod, smiling at his actions. 

“You would be such a good momma, you know?” He ponders, his right hand reaching down between you two. You feel his tip swipe against the skin of your asscheek, his precum trickling slowly down your flesh. His words send your brain into a tizzy. You wiggle in his grip, wanting him to sink into you already. “I’d get to see your tits even more than usual.”

You stop your movements, peering over your shoulder at him. The statement is almost so comically funny that you cannot take it seriously. “How does that even correlate?”

His face is deadly serious before that familiar grin creeps across his lips. He moves your thong out of his way, rubbing his cock between your sopping pussy lips, “Gotta feed the kid somehow.”

You close your eyes, letting out a depraved sigh. You can feel the smile on his face as he sinks into you, his length taking up every inch of your pussy. You squeeze him briefly, trying to adjust to his size.

“So tight. Relax a bit, honey.”

Johnny is always warm, so in turn, so are you. Especially when you fuck. The moment his hips shift inside you and he drags his cock in and out of you, you break a sweat. Even the coldness of the counter could not cool you down as his body hangs over you and completely overtakes your space. 

Johnny may be hot, but your cunt was even warmer. It was like his own personal drug. He would spend the rest of his days buried inside you, listening to your desperate whimpers as his hips snapped into you.

“Faster,” You urge, wanting to feel that familiar build-up in your tummy grow. He presses one hand into your waist, the other holding that spot that he’s now hyper-focused on. 

He speeds up his motions, his waist slapping against the fat of your ass, “Greedy momma, huh? You just want my babies so bad, huh?”

The pressure builds up only intensifies when the hand from your waist pushes your thong out of the way. His pointer and ring finger spread you wider as his middle finger swipes across your swollen clit. The mixture of meticulous work on your clit on top of the swiftness of his thrusts makes your ears ring. 

You are being loud, and you both know it. Usually, soundproof bedroom walls protect your pretty sounds from being exposed to the rest of the family, but you are in the middle of the condo, bent over the kitchen counter. 

Johnny takes the initiative to quiet you by slapping his hand over your mouth, leaving a warm spot on your tummy. His other hand does not let up on your clit, chasing that familiar feeling of you spasming around his sensitive cock. 

He jerks your head back, curling your back up into an arch, “I want you to cum for me, momma. I’m close, wanna feel you first. Then I’ll give you what we both want.”

Fingers speed up as his hips falter in speed a bit, but it’s still enough for you. Your eyes roll back the moment the burning spreads across your nerve endings. You moan into his hand, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hips go flush with your ass the moment his cock twitches, emptying every last drop deep inside you. His face is pressed into the side of yours, his words a jumble of “fuck” and “yes, take it all, baby”.

You stand there on wobbly legs as Johnny recovers and moves his hand away from your mouth. He kisses your cheek a couple of times before his hands go back to your lower tummy again.

“I’m in no rush,” He mumbles, drawing circles into your skin. You know exactly what he’s talking about, and hearing him reassure you again makes your heart grow a million sizes, “I'd rather have you all to myself anyway.”

The giggle that escapes your throat is clouded by some phlegm. You clear your throat, “I like that it’s just us. Especially right now.”

“I’m not ready to share you.”

He slips out of you as he says it, making it sound so casual. His cum literally drips down your thigh as he removes himself. “Sorry, honey.”

You run your fingers between your hips and thong to straighten it back out over your ass. When you slap it against your own skin, you hear Johnny chuckle at the obscenity. He bends down, grabbing the waistband of your pants, shimmying it up your leg, effectively wiping away the white liquid he left on your skin. To him, it’s a job well done. All clean!

To you, it means you have to ensure you run the pants through the laundry twice.

“Johnny-”

“Sorry,” He beams as you spin to scold him, “Again.”

There he is. Embedding himself so deep into your skin like a lovesick leech. You want to smack him for annoying you so quickly after getting you blissed out on his dick, but instead, you just grit your teeth and pinch his cheek.

“Daddy is going to sleep on the hard couch if he keeps it up.”

His eyes light up at your words, completely disregarding the latter half of the sentence. 

“So you did like that little fake scenario I mocked up, huh?”

You shake your head, buttoning your pants. He is a menace and he knows it. “Oh, you read me so well, honey. You’re on fire tonight!”

You don’t mean it to have a double meaning, but of course it does with Johnny. The expression he makes is so painful to your pride that you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

“I’m always on fire, Momma.”

-

[mikaylathenerd5]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒜𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒟𝑜 | Roman Reigns Smut

*I do not own the gif or pictures*

Main Mainlist ৹ Join My Taglist

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC (Shiloh Lucero)

SUMMARY: The world sees a warrior. She sees a man who only exhales when she touches him. After a brutal match ends in chaos, Roman sends nothing but a room number. No words. No apology. No warning. But Shiloh comes anyway. And in the silence that follows, she gives him what no one else ever has—peace, softness, and a body he can lose himself in.

🥀 Emotional aftercare. Sacred-level smut. And a man who doesn’t know how to let go—until she shows him he doesn’t have to.

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes graphic smut (oral, vaginal, size kink, overstimulation, creampie), strong language, emotional vulnerability, references to violence (in-ring), and intense aftercare. If you like your smut dirty and your emotions raw, this one’s for you.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

A/N: This one did something to me. We might have went a little overboard with the smut. 😭 It’s filthy, yes—but also soft in a way that feels sacred. Roman is raw and wrecked, and Shiloh is the calm he didn’t know he needed. If you’re new here and want to keep up with all my Roman Reigns fics—drop a 💬 in the replies to join my Main Taglist, or fill out the Google Form in my pinned post. There’s a whole masterlist waiting to ruin you softly.

The world saw a warrior. She saw a man who only ever exhaled when she touched him.

She shouldn’t be here.

That thought echoed through her mind with every step she took down the carpeted hallway, her hoodie sleeves stretched over her palms, her heart thudding too loud in her chest. The hotel smelled like bleach and dust—clean but hollow. The kind of place where things came to rest. Or fall apart.

Her footsteps felt like thunder even though she moved quietly. Carefully. The closer she got to his door, the more her stomach knotted.

Room 815.

She’d stared at the text for ten minutes before even leaving the house. Just those three numbers. He didn’t say come. Didn’t say don’t. He just sent the room number, hours after the fight. After whatever had been clawing at him finally broke loose in the ring.

Shiloh had watched it on her phone. The clips. The commentators’ stunned silence when he didn’t stop swinging after the bell. The way security had to pull him off the guy. The way Roman didn’t look like Roman.

She’d seen that version of him before.

The version with the split knuckles and the cold stare.

The one who walked into the recovery room months ago with blood on his hoodie and pain in his bones and nothing left in his voice.

Back then, she hadn’t flinched.

And she wasn’t going to now.

Still, when she reached his door, her hand hovered.

She wasn’t scared of him. That wasn’t what this was.

It was what she carried for him. The tenderness, the ache. The way she saw through him even when he tried to disappear into silence. The way she knew—deep in her chest—that he needed softness more than he’d ever admit. That tonight, he didn’t need discipline or space or distance.

He needed to be seen.

To be held.

To be touched like a man, not a monster.

So she raised her hand and knocked. Softly. Once.

No answer.

Not for ten seconds. Maybe fifteen.

Then the lock clicked.

And the door opened.

The hotel room door shut behind him with a weight that had nothing to do with hinges.

Roman didn’t speak.

He dropped his gym bag by the dresser and let the silence settle over the room like fog—thick and slow, clinging to everything it touched. The air still carried the echo of the fight: adrenaline, frustration, sweat. That unshakable feeling of being full of everything and nothing at the same time.

He should’ve gone to the trainer. Should’ve iced his shoulder. Popped something for the swelling in his knee.

But he didn’t.

Because she was already here.

Shiloh sat at the edge of the bed in one of his hoodies, legs crossed, back straight but not tense. His gaze dropped, caught on the full curve of her hips, the way the oversized hoodie clung to her like it knew exactly what it was covering. She was thick in the kind of way that made a man lose his damn mind. Plush thighs. Fat ass. Built like comfort and chaos. He bit the inside of his cheek just to keep still. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves, her lips glossed with something soft and pink. The glow from the cracked bathroom door behind her lit her skin in warm gold.

She didn’t flinch when he walked in.

Didn’t rise or rush him.

She just looked at him—quietly, gently—like she was counting the parts that made it back whole.

“You okay?” she asked, voice low. Careful. Not tiptoeing—just attuned.

Roman’s gaze dragged up her body like it hurt to look too long. Not because she wasn’t beautiful—but because she was. And he didn’t know how to hold something like that without feeling like he might crack it open by mistake.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally. His voice sounded rough, like it had been scraped across gravel.

Shiloh blinked. She didn’t look away. “I came anyway.”

That did something to him.

He crossed the room in three slow steps and dropped to his knees in front of her. The sound of it wasn’t dramatic—just real. Solid. His hands found her thighs, palms warm even through the fabric, and then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to her stomach like he was begging for silence.

She didn’t expect the way her chest ached just watching him breathe. Didn’t expect how warm he still was—even after the world tried to make him cold.

She touched him anyway.

Her fingers slipped through his damp hair, down to the back of his neck, tracing the line where tension still lived. Her touch didn’t ask for anything. It simply said: I’m here. I see you. I’m not leaving.

Roman exhaled like he hadn’t done that since the fight.

“You’re the only one who sees me like this,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Shiloh’s hand stilled, then moved to his jaw. She tilted his face upward until his eyes met hers.

And just like that, a memory bloomed.

The first time Shiloh saw him, he didn’t speak.

He walked into the recovery room with a scowl on his face and blood drying on the collar of his hoodie. His knuckles were split, and his right arm hung lower than his left—like even lifting it would cost too much.

She glanced up from the file in her lap. Her supervisor wasn’t in yet.

He noticed her—but barely. Like he was scanning for threats, not people.

He sat on the padded table with a grunt and pulled the hood lower over his face. Not a word.

Shiloh stood slowly, walked to the counter, grabbed an ice pack, and brought it over.

Still no eye contact.

“Your shoulder,” she said softly. “Right side?”

He didn’t nod.

Didn’t deny it either.

She reached out and laid the ice against the swelling—lightly, gently, not forcing it. His flinch was instinctive, but it passed. And then he finally looked at her.

Eyes sharp. Quiet. Heavy-lidded like they’d seen too much.

She met his stare without dropping hers.

“You don’t have to explain pain to me,” she murmured.

He blinked. Just once. Like he wasn’t expecting that.

Like maybe he didn’t even want to be understood—but now that he was, it made his whole body settle just an inch.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the session. She taped his wrist and iced his ribs. He didn’t make a sound, but his breath hitched once when her hands brushed lower than expected.

She apologized. He didn’t say anything.

But when he stood to leave, his voice was deep and low.

“You always this calm?”

She gave a half-smile. “You always this grumpy?”

And for the first time, Roman Reigns—fight-hardened, blood-smeared, silent-as-the-grave Roman—grinned.

Just a little.

He came back three days later. Asked for her by name.

And over time, something started to form.

No flirting.

No games.

Just longer sessions. Longer silences. Until the silences weren’t empty anymore.

Until she started waiting for the sound of his boots in the hallway.

Until he started staying five minutes after. Then ten. Then walking her to the parking garage.

Until the night he looked at her and said:

“I don’t usually let people touch me. But you… I feel like I’d stop breathing if you didn’t.”

And maybe that’s when he knew.

Maybe she did, too.

She still remembered that first night. The blood on his hoodie. The way he couldn’t meet her eyes until she told him he didn’t have to explain pain. The way he looked at her now was different—but the man underneath hadn’t changed. Just the way he let her hold him.

“That’s why I don’t look away,” she whispered.

And that’s when he kissed her.

The kiss wasn’t urgent. It didn’t demand or dominate. It opened.

Warmth bled between them as her lips moved against his—slow, sweet, and sure. He tasted like iron and something tired. She tasted like ChapStick and vanilla and something his.

Roman made a low sound in his throat. Not quite a growl. Not quite a sigh. Something in between. A sound that meant thank you for touching me when I feel like a monster.

He deepened the kiss, just enough to feel her breath change.

One hand cradled her jaw. The other moved to her back. He held her like a man holding the last soft thing in a hard world.

When he pulled back, his voice was hoarse.

“Take it off, Shy.”

Her throat went dry. The syllable of her name felt heavier when he said it like that—slow, deep, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She nodded, fingers curling around the hem of the hoodie.

It wasn’t modesty. It was vulnerability.

Being bare around Roman was different. He didn’t just see her. He memorized her. Devoured her with his eyes like he wanted to be fluent in her skin.

Still, she peeled it off.

Underneath: soft bralette. Cotton shorts. Bare thighs. Gold anklet.

The shorts clung to her like a second skin, cinched just under the swell of her ass. Her hips flared, thick and smooth, and her thighs jiggled just a little as she moved—soft enough to sink into, strong enough to ride him into the mattress. Roman swore under his breath again, because fuck… she was thick and beautiful and everything he didn’t deserve.

Roman swore under his breath. In English first. Then Samoan.

“You don’t even try to kill me. You just do.”

He took off his own shirt—slow, deliberate. The bruises on his ribs bloomed deep purple. A long, angry cut ran beneath his collarbone. He didn’t flinch.

But when she reached for him, he caught her wrist.

“Don’t fix it,” he said. “Just be here.”

Shiloh’s eyes softened. She touched his chest anyway—right over the cut—and whispered, “Okay.”

And then his mouth found hers again.

Slower this time. Hungrier.

Roman’s mouth never strayed far from hers, but the kiss shifted—lower, deeper, more possessive. His lips dragged along her jaw, then lower, biting softly at her neck.

Then he sat back, gaze dark and unreadable.

“On your knees, mama.”

Shiloh’s breath caught. Not from fear. From the sheer weight in his voice.

She moved without hesitation. Slid off the bed onto the carpet, the press of the cool floor grounding her even as heat licked up her spine. Her body was buzzing—raw and worshipful. Being in front of him like this didn’t feel small. It felt powerful. Sacred. Like her mouth was the only place he wanted to lose control.

Roman leaned back slightly, legs spread, watching her with a hunger that almost made her ache. His cock strained against his sweats, thick and already leaking. And when she reached up to free him, his eyes fluttered closed for a second—just one.

“You know what I like,” he said, voice gravel. “So don’t tease me, baby. Not tonight.”

She pulled him out, her hand not even able to wrap fully around him. God, he was heavy in her palm. Warm. Veined. His tip was flushed and dripping, and she licked it once—just a flick, just to taste him.

Roman’s hips jerked.

“Fuck—”

Shiloh looked up at him through her lashes, her lips wrapping around the head. She sucked him in slowly, relaxing her jaw, inch by inch, until she couldn’t take any more. She gagged softly—his size never stopped being a stretch—but she pushed herself down again, letting her nose brush the firm line of his abs.

His groan was guttural.

“Jesus, Shy…”

She held him deep, her throat tightening around him, breathing through her nose. Her palms rested on his thighs, grounding herself in his warmth. Her eyes watered—but not from discomfort. From the rush. The intimacy. The way his whole body shook beneath her.

Roman’s hand found the back of her head—not rough, just firm.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Givin’ me this sweet fuckin’ throat like it belongs to me.”

It did.

Every part of her did, and he knew it.

She moaned around him, letting the vibrations travel through him like lightning. He bucked once—just once—and then forced himself still.

“Shit, baby. I’m hangin’ on by a thread.”

He was unraveling, and she felt it.

And God, she loved it.

Loved that this man—this warrior, this myth, this fucking machine of violence—was coming undone because of her. Because of her mouth, her patience, her devotion.

He looked down just in time to see her spit slick down his shaft, her lips glossy, her eyes wild with heat. She sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, then pulled back and stroked him with both hands, spreading her spit all the way to the base.

Roman was breathing like he’d just run five rounds.

“Fuck. You tryin’ to make me bust in your mouth, mama? That what you want?”

She nodded, then swallowed him again.

Deeper this time.

Sloppier.

More desperate.

Her throat worked around him, each bob messier than the last. Her tears smeared down her cheeks. And still—she didn’t stop. She gave all of herself, like worship, like penance, like prayer.

Roman’s jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Shit—Shy—you gotta stop—fuck—you gon’ make me—”

He pulled her off, fast but careful, panting like he just survived a war.

His cock was dripping, shiny and soaked, twitching in her grip. And her lips—God—her lips were swollen and slick with him.

She looked ruined.

And he’d never seen anything more perfect.

“Get up here,” he growled, low and urgent. “Now.”

Shiloh climbed onto the bed, flushed and breathless. Her thighs were trembling, her body dripping. She looked like she was ready to burst.

Roman dragged her into his lap, every part of him still shaking from the feel of her throat.

Shiloh was already straddling him, bare thighs spread across the thick muscle of his lap. Her ass settled heavy against him, thick and plush, the kind of weight that made his pulse throb. Every time she shifted, he felt her softness drag along his skin like a slow tease. That ass had a rhythm of its own—one he’d memorized, one he craved. It wasn’t just how she moved—it was what she made him feel when she did. Her softness against him made his whole body tense. He gripped her hips, thumbs pressing slow circles into her skin like he was mapping her, muscle by muscle.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and gritty, jaw tight with restraint.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Nah, baby. I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” she breathed, lips brushing his. “I want all of you.”

Roman’s nostrils flared.

“You got me.”

He nudged the tip against her entrance. Just that—no pressure, no push—just enough for her body to remember what it was like to be stretched by him.

She inhaled sharply. Her hips twitched, needy already.

“You feel that?” he rasped. “She already opening for me.”

He gripped his cock at the base and slid it against her folds, teasing. Her slick coated him instantly. He didn’t even push in yet, and she was already dripping.

“So fuckin’ wet. All this for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “It’s yours, Roman.”

“Damn right it is.”

Then he sank into her.

Slow. Deep. Unforgiving.

Shiloh’s mouth fell open, eyes squeezing shut as he filled her inch by inch. The stretch was insane. Her walls fluttered around him, barely able to take it.

Fuck—he was huge.

Every goddamn time, it felt like he was breaking her in from scratch. Like her pussy forgot how to handle him the second he pulled out. And now—now he was splitting her open like he owned the right to ruin her.

No one else had ever felt like this. No one else had ever made her gasp just from the first few inches. Roman filled every part of her—thick, heavy, perfect—and still had more to give.

It wasn’t fair. How the stretch made her ache and gush all at once. How her walls clenched like they were desperate to hold onto him. How her pussy went dumb the second he bottomed out.

She was fucking addicted to it.

To him.

To the way he made her feel small, stuffed, ruined…

And God help her, she loved it.

Loved being the only one who could take it. Loved knowing this dick—the biggest she’d ever had—was hers.

Roman groaned, head falling back. His voice cracked when he said:

“Goddamn, Shy. I forget how tight this pussy is ‘til I’m back inside it.”

She whimpered. Tried to breathe. Failed.

“That’s it, baby. Ride it. Ride this dick like it’s yours.”

She rocked forward and down—shaky at first, then stronger. Her rhythm built, hips moving in rolling waves, the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room.

Roman didn’t stop watching her.

Her tits bounced with every grind. Her nails raked his chest. Her head fell back as she moaned his name, again and again, like a prayer unraveling.

“Look at you,” he gritted out. “You fuckin’ takin’ it. So pretty. So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fat fuckin’ ass takin’ this dick like it was made for it,” he growled, gripping both cheeks hard. “You feel what you’re doin’ to me, baby? Bouncin’ like that, makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

His hand moved to her ass. SLAP.

She gasped, clenching hard around him. It sent a fresh bolt of heat through her core, her pussy tightening like a vice, sucking him in deeper.

“You like that?”

“Yes—Roman, please—”

“You gon’ make a mess all over this dick, huh?”

Another slap—harder. Her thighs jolted. Her back arched like she couldn’t help it. The sting of his palm only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“You better fuckin’ cream on me. I wanna see it.”

She didn’t even realize she was crying until her vision blurred—tears sliding down her temples, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming stretch of him inside her. Every time she lifted and dropped her hips, she felt her body split wide open, clenching just to survive the next thrust.

It wasn’t just pleasure.

It was obliteration.

He filled her so deep her guts throbbed. Her belly felt taut from how far he reached, the tip of his cock dragging along every soft, swollen nerve that had already been fucked raw. Her clit throbbed just from how full she was. And she couldn’t stop—didn’t want to.

“You feel what you do to me?” Roman groaned, voice cracking. “You ridein’ me like that and expect me to hold on?”

He grabbed her hips tighter. Forced her to grind deeper, slower, harder. The friction made her eyes roll back. Her pussy fluttered, soaked and messy and milking him with every bounce.

And then he looked down.

“Oh fuck—look at you.”

His jaw dropped. His voice dropped lower.

Her slick coated him in white, a creamy ring forming around the base of his cock every time she bottomed out. Her juices smeared his thighs. The air smelled like sweat, sex, and something dangerously addictive.

“Fuck, baby—you see that shit?” he growled. “You fuckin’ drippin’ down my balls.”

Shiloh whimpered. Her body trembled uncontrollably. She was seconds from losing it, thighs shaking, pussy clenching in rhythmic spasms around him.

“I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“You better fuckin’ cum,” he said, voice low, wicked. “Let me see you lose control on this dick, mama. Let me feel all of it.”

His hands gripped her ass, slammed her down—and that was it.

She shattered.

Her body jerked forward like something had snapped inside her. Her scream tore from her throat, raw and helpless. Her walls convulsed. Wetness exploded down her thighs in hot, pulsing waves. She squirted around him, again and again, coating his lap with a slick, chaotic mess.

“Fuck you’re squirting for me, huh?” he hissed. “Look at that. Look how wrecked you get for me.”

And still—he didn’t stop.

He fucked her through it, his cock dragging slow and deep through her still-gushing pussy. Her head fell back. Her mouth stayed open. Every nerve was on fire.

“You want another?”

She whimpered. “Roman—I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

He flipped her.

One motion—gripped her waist, laid her back, and lined himself up again.

“Legs open. Let me see that pretty pussy I just broke.”

He slid back in—no resistance now. Just slick heat.

“Mmm. Still twitchin’. She not done yet.”

He put her ankles on his shoulders. Bent down. Kept all of him inside her.

Then he moved.

Deep, grinding thrusts that made the bed creak. His moans got rougher. His lips brushed her ear.

“Cum again, babygirl. One more. Just for me. Let me ruin you soft.”

Her hands gripped the sheets. Her body shook.

“Roman—I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Let go. Let me feel everything.”

She came again. Loud. Messy. Writhing beneath him as her body gave out. And that broke him.

He grunted. Cursed. Slammed into her twice more before groaning into her neck.

“Givin’ you all of it. Take it. Take it.”

His cock jerked deep inside her as he came—hard. Long. Gut-wrenching.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even move.

Just lay over her, shuddering with every pulse.

“You okay?” she whispered, dazed, breathless.

Roman chuckled, voice still ragged.

“Baby… I think I saw God.”

Shiloh didn’t remember collapsing.

All she knew was that her body had given up. She was boneless, limp, ruined in the best possible way. Her legs trembled with aftershocks. Her skin tingled from every place he’d touched. And her pussy—God—her pussy throbbed, stretched wide and still pulsing, warm and wet from him.

Roman hadn’t moved.

He was still deep inside her when the last tremor rocked through her hips. Still pressing his forehead to hers. Still breathing like she was oxygen and the world had left him breathless.

“You okay?” he rasped.

Her voice was hoarse. “I think… I can taste colors.”

He chuckled. Deep. Warm. A sound that made her want to kiss the corner of his mouth just to feel it again.

“That good, huh?” “You ruined me.” “Good,” he said again, this time darker. “I like you ruined.”

He kissed her cheek and pulled out slow. She whimpered at the drag—how empty she felt the second he left her. The wet sound of him slipping free echoed between them.

He looked down.

And groaned.

“Fuck. Look what you did to me.”

His cock was slicked in her cream. The base was messy with it, sticky and glistening. His cream smeared down the backs of her thick thighs, leaving glossy trails on skin that still twitched from overstimulation. Her ass—red from his palms, soft from the way she molded into his lap—looked like it had been claimed. Marked. Remembered. There was a milky trail between her thighs, seeping onto the sheets. He brushed his thumb along her slit and watched her body twitch.

“You still sensitive?” “Roman—” “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Still flutterin’. She not ready to let me go yet.”

Then he moved. She thought he was going to tease her again, but instead—

He left the bed.

The absence of him made her cold.

She heard water run. A drawer open. The rustle of cloth. The quiet click of the light dimmer.

When he came back, he knelt at the edge of the bed. Warm towel in one hand. Tenderness in the other.

“Open your legs for me, mama.”

She did.

Because her body always listened to him before her brain could.

He wiped her clean—slow, reverent. Cupped her thighs, spread her gently, ran the towel between her folds with care so tender it made her chest ache. She winced once.

He paused. Kissed the inside of her knee.

“I got you. I’ll be gentle. Just wanna take care of my mess.”

She whimpered at how soft he was. How filthy his voice still sounded even when he was trying to be delicate.

“You always this sweet after you cum?” he murmured, brushing her skin with the backs of his knuckles. “Goin’ quiet on me like I ain’t just made you squirt on this dick twice?”

“You’re cocky.” “I’m correct.”

Once she was clean, he stood and scooped her up.

Roman didn’t ask. Didn’t warn her.

He just wrapped her in his arms like he was reclaiming something that already belonged to him.

“Can’t walk yet, huh?” he teased, lips brushing her temple.

“I might fall face-first.” “That’s alright. I’ll carry you every time.”

He tucked her into the bed gently, like he was setting something delicate into silk. Draped the sheet over her legs. Then slid in behind her, chest to her back, wrapping an arm around her waist.

But she twisted.

Rolled into him.

Tucked herself under his chin and pressed her lips to his collarbone.

“Stay close,” she whispered.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Room service trays now sat mostly ignored. Her stomach was full, her thighs sore. She was wrapped in one of his hoodies now—nothing underneath but warm skin.

Roman fed her sushi with his fingers. Held her ankle in his lap, massaging her calf.

“You always this quiet?” “You always this soft?” she asked back.

His eyes lingered on her for a long beat. Longer than she expected.

“Only with you.”

She turned her face into his chest. Breathed him in. Then asked softly:

“Do you ever let anyone else see you like this?”

His answer was immediate.

“No.”

“Why me?”

He didn't rush the answer. He trailed his fingers along the seam of her thigh. Thought for a long time. Then:

“Because you don’t try to fix me. You don’t treat me like I’m some fucked-up legend. You just… show up.”

“I’d keep showing up if you let me.”

He looked down at her. For once, no smirk. No armor. Just a truth sitting heavy behind his eyes.

“You already do.”

He kissed her slow. Not sexual. Not even possessive.

Just like he couldn’t believe he got to.

And when he pulled away, the room was quiet again—except this time, the silence felt earned.

Safe.

Shiloh was already half-asleep, lips brushing his chest, hand resting over his heart.

But before she drifted, she heard him say—voice low, almost to himself:

“I sleep better when you’re the last thing I see.”

The room was still dark.

Early morning light hadn’t breached the curtains yet—just the faint blue hush of pre-dawn that settled across the ceiling like a sigh. The air was cool. The sheets were warm. And Shiloh—bare and curled beside him—was breathing slow and even, her face tucked into the crook of his shoulder.

Roman was already awake.

Had been for almost an hour.

But he hadn’t moved.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because he didn’t want to.

There was something sacred about this—about watching her sleep, soft and safe in a bed that had seen violence hours before. Her cheek rested on his chest, her lips parted slightly, and one thigh was draped over his waist like she had no intention of letting go.

And God… he didn’t want her to.

He ran his hand down her back. Barely a touch. Just enough to feel the curve of her spine. Just enough to remind himself she was still there.

Still here.Still his.

He leaned forward—careful not to wake her—and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. Then another, lower, just above her shoulder blade.

His lips lingered.

And then, in a voice no louder than breath, he whispered something no one else had ever heard from him. Not his family. Not his friends. Not even himself, in the mirror.

“I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

The words didn’t scare him.

What scared him was how true they felt.

He kissed her again—one more time, just because he could—and let his forehead rest against the space between her shoulder and neck. She stirred lightly, but didn’t wake.

Roman closed his eyes.

And for the first time in what felt like years, he didn’t feel like he had to armor up when morning came.

He didn’t feel like the fight would start again as soon as the sun rose.

He just felt... safe.

Because she was here.

Because she came anyway.

Because maybe—for once—he didn’t have to be anything more than this.

Just a man.

Just hers.

Author's Note ✍🏽:

If this one gave you feelings, made you squirm, or had you whispering “oh my God” to no one—please tell me everything. I live for your reactions. 💭 What line did it for you? 💭 What part made you feel soft? 💭 Should I write a morning-after continuation? 💭 Do you imagine this Roman existing in the same universe as any of my other stories?

Let’s talk about it in the comments or in your tags—I always read them. Your reblogs, reactions, and love keep me inspired. 💌

Slide into my inbox with your thoughts, keysmashes, theories, or thirst. I love getting asks and screaming with y’all about these characters—it makes sharing my work feel even more special. 🖤 If you want to be added to my Main Taglist, just drop a comment or fill out the form in my pinned post. And if you're looking for more emotional smut, messy love, and slow-burn softness… my masterlist has you covered. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. You're seriously some of the coolest people I know.

🏷️ @star017 @sheaabuttaababyy @tribalqueen20 @trippinsorrows @mamis-girly

@pittieprincess22 @zoeroxiie @beccalynns-world @keyera-jackson @li-da-savage

@sharmelasworld @jaded-human @lov3rla03 @justazzi @fearlesschimera

@skyesthebomb @chrissyxcxox @reginawhorge01 @purplementalitybluebird @jeyusosqueen

@brianochka @diamondlifeee @perksofbeingbeautifulyetsobroken @cyberdejos2 @transparentphantomface

@sayyestoheav3nn @kianaleani @sxvual @vebner37 @sexyblacksimper

@dopematicdiamondz @behavior619 @annfg8 @ayeeeitsmiracle

@ariiaellbtheedonn

@romanreignsluver1 @ashykneee @fame-ass-ers @baybehkay @queenofklonnie22

@blackchickinthedesert @thekittysmeow

[writteninessence]

Backstage Pass pt. 3 idols!Hyunjin x Felix x Chan x manager!reader

Chan stepped back, and you remained frozen.

“I won’t kiss you until you ask me to,” he said, voice rough. “But I’ll be here. When you’re ready.”

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, 18+ NSFW, black!reader implied, though not directly stated, fem-aligned, polyamorous dynamics, established emotional tension, unresolved romantic tension, smut, jealousy/possessiveness, light power dynamics, rough kissing, multiple partners kissing reader, partial nudity, lap sitting, breast play, oral teasing, no penetration (yet), but heavy heated buildup, I am indeed an unreliable narrator, emotional vulnerability, reader doesn't choose-she wants them all, probably a couple that I missed Word Count: 3.5k+ Tags: @chasinghxran @aria-again @skyearby @jinniesgirl @imagine-all-the-imagines Enjoy <3 Series

Two and a half weeks.

That’s how long it had been since their confessions.

Two and a half weeks since they stood across from you in that tiny conference room, stripped bare of their pride and saying words they hadn’t dared to say until everything was too messy to hide.

‘We want you.’

‘All of us.’

‘We don’t want you to choose.’

And they’d meant it; you could see it in their eyes, feel it in your chest.

That was the problem.

You were still pretending you could do your job like none of it had happened.

That first week was brutal.

Every meeting, every rehearsal, every van ride was wrapped in a thick, electric silence—not tense like before, but still heavy, almost intimate, like a secret none of you knew what to do with.

They didn’t push, not with their words, because their bodies spoke loud enough.

It wasn’t flirting, not really. Every interaction was edged in something warm, something soft. Every glance held for just a second longer than it should have, and every touch lingered like they didn’t want to be the first to let go.

And you… You were a mess beneath the surface.

Because now you couldn’t unsee it.

The way Felix looked at you like you hung the moon, or the way Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to your mouth every time you talked. The way Chan… didn’t say anything at all, but moved like he’d always belonged near you.

You found the earrings after a long, hellish day of shoot delays and weather drama.

Gold, dainty, sun-shaped.

They were sitting in a black velvet box on your desk with no note, no name.

But you didn’t need one.

Felix had been beside you that day in Tokyo, so many months ago. You’d paused in front of a street vendor, admiring those same earrings, and said something offhand like “Those are cute.”

That was it.

You hadn’t even realized he was listening.

You found him curled on the studio couch the next morning, hoodie over his head, laptop open in his lap. When you stood in front of him, he didn’t even pretend not to notice you.

“They reminded me of you,” he said, voice soft, like saying it any louder might scare you off. “You don’t have to wear them.”

You did wear them.

Not that day, but three days later, when your hair was pulled up and the earrings were the last thing you clipped on before heading out the door.

And you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his smile lingered when he saw them.

Hyunjin gave you pure chaos.

It was a random Tuesday, and you were juggling two calls, three schedules, and a makeup artist who insisted on using the wrong foundation shade on everyone.

You were already on the verge of snapping when he appeared beside you, arm outstretched.

In his hand was a tall iced coffee, oat milk, and honey — your exact order.

You looked at him, one brow raised. “And what’s this for?”

He didn’t meet your eyes.

“It was on the way,” he muttered.

Liar.

There was no way that drink was just on the way unless he’d sprinted across the street between call times. But you took it anyway, sipped it, and let the sweetness sit heavy on your tongue while he watched you with that unreadable expression.

Your whispered thanks went unanswered, but you saw the way the corner of his mouth tilted upwards before he walked away.

Chan didn’t give you anything.

No notes. No little surprises.

What he gave was worse.

He gave you space.

He didn’t crowd you, didn’t flirt. He didn’t steal lingering touches like the others did. He just watched the way you moved. Noticed when you were overwhelmed and kept Hyunjin from pushing too far. He pulled Felix back when his emotions started spilling into his actions.

You were the manager, but he was managing you in ways you couldn’t admit.

And that made you feel seen in a way that wrecked you.

Chan let you have your little two-week break before approaching you. 

It was after a performance—small venue, high energy, adrenaline still buzzing through the air. The others had gone to clean up, but you stayed, checking on mic packs and final counts.

He’d stayed too, because of course he did.

You tried to act like it was normal. Just another post-show wind-down.

But you felt him behind you. His heat, his presence.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just… existed there. Close enough to feel but not touch.

Then—“You alright?”

You nodded. “Tired.” Busied yourself wrapping up some wires before responding, “You?”

“Yeah.” A pause, then, “No.”

You turned, already finding his eyes locked on yours.

“I hate this,” he said.

“Hate what?”

“This waiting, pretending. Walking around like I didn’t say what I said.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. And opened again.

“Chan—”

“I know you’re scared,” he said quietly. “So I’ve been patient, I’ll keep being patient.”

“But it’s messing with your head? Mine too,” you admitted.

He stepped closer.

“I think about you all the time.”

The air snapped taut between you.

“And not just in the ways you’re afraid of,” he added, voice like gravel and silk. “I think about what it means to hold you when you’re tired, or to make sure you eat. To be someone you trust, not just someone you want.”

Your throat burned.

His hand lifted—slow, deliberate—fingers ghosting over your jaw. You should’ve stopped him.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You could feel his breath now.

Your noses brushed.

If you leaned in—

Someone called your name down the hall.

The spell broke.

Chan stepped back, and you remained frozen.

“I won’t kiss you until you ask me to,” he said, voice rough. “But I’ll be here. When you’re ready.”

And then he walked away.

And you just stood there.

Still wanting.

Still waiting.

Still unraveling.

And then you slipped. You hadn’t meant to, not really, but another week had passed since your almost kiss with Chan, and your walls were beginning to crumble. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

Couldn’t pretend you weren’t unaffected, or untouched.

You were already in too deep.

But you didn’t confess, didn’t chase them down, and fall into their arms.

You just started letting yourself… show it.

Little things.

Moments that slipped out when you weren’t watching yourself.

Felix noticed first.

It was subtle, very intentional.

You were in the van—he was rambling about a late-night snack he’d made with some weird combo of honey, cheese, and bread. It sounded awful. He was so proud of it.

He was mid-laugh, voice bubbling, when you reached over without thinking, plucked a crumb from the corner of his mouth, and brushed your thumb across his lip.

He froze.

Eyes wide, voice faded.

Your fingers hovered just a second too long.

And then you pulled back like it was nothing.

“Crumb,” you said, voice neutral, like your skin wasn’t still buzzing from the contact.

He blinked slowly, his entire expression shifting—open, reverent, a little wrecked.

And when you looked out the window, you could feel him watching you.

The whole ride home.

Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to throw off.

He flirted too naturally, too often.

But that day, he was painting in the lounge, headphones on, smudges of soft pink across his fingertips. You passed behind him, reading off updates from the new photo schedule.

When he looked up at you, a smear of paint on his cheek, you didn’t stop yourself.

You licked your thumb and leaned in, gently swiping the mark from his skin.

He held completely still.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

You wiped it away, eyes focused on his mouth, just briefly. 

“There,” you murmured. “Pretty again.”

His mouth parted, but no words came.

You walked off without waiting for a response, heart hammering, palms tingling.

Behind you, his breath hitched audibly.

And you knew exactly what you’d done.

Chan was last.

And with him, you didn’t touch.

You didn’t have to.

It was a rehearsal day, full of stress. One of the choreographers was riding him too hard, pushing for corrections mid-routine. You were across the room, watching him grit his teeth, jaw flexing, patience fraying.

He caught your eye, just for a second.

And this time, you didn’t look away.

You held it.

Steady and calm..

Your expression didn’t say I’m your manager.

It said I see you. I want you to breathe. I want you to come to me when you don’t know where else to turn.

You didn’t smile, didn’t speak.

You just gave him that look.

And something in him shifted.

His posture straightened, his movements snapping back into control, like your gaze alone had steadied him.

Later, when he passed you in the hallway, you let your fingers trail along the hem of his sleeve as he walked by.

Barely a brush.

But he stopped walking for a full two seconds before continuing.

You didn’t look back.

That night, you were barely in your hotel room five minutes before the knock came.

Hard and quick. Urgent almost.

You opened the door to find Hyunjin, hoodie on, jaw tight, breath shallow like he’d sprinted from the elevator.

“You trying to kill me?” he asked without preamble, eyes burning.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That thing you did earlier,” he snapped. “The paint. The ‘pretty again.’ You think I’m gonna sleep tonight after that?”

You opened your mouth to respond when the door swung open again, Chan this time.

His shoulders were tense, his eyes sharp. When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly calm.

“You two already started?” he said, stepping inside. “Great, let’s all talk then.”

Your stomach dropped. “What the hell is going on—”

And then Felix burst in behind them.

He didn’t speak.

Just slammed the door shut behind him, chest rising fast, curls a mess, lips parted like he was trying to catch up to his own heartbeat.

Hyunjin turned to you. “I want to know what that touch meant.”

Chan folded his arms. “I want to know why you looked at me like you could see through my soul.”

Felix’s voice cracked when he finally spoke.

“I want to know if you’re playing with us.”

Your hands went up. “Hold on. You’re all barging in here like you’re not the ones who confessed your feelings and turned my whole life upside down—”

“You touched my face like I was yours,” Hyunjin cut in. 

“You looked at me like I was your anchor,” Chan growled. “I’ve been holding back, and you know it.”

“I’m losing it,” Felix whispered, and his voice made the room stop.

All three of you turned to him.

His gaze was locked on you.

Flickering.

Pained.

“I can’t keep doing this. Pretending I’m okay with crumbs. I’m not.”

“Felix—”

He crossed the space between you in two strides.

Lifted his hands.

Placed them gently, but firmly, on either side of your face—his palms warm, trembling, framing you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

His forehead touched yours first.

He didn’t speak.

He just breathed.

And then—he whispered it.

“Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because you were already falling forward, already chasing the heat of his mouth before he even moved.

And when his lips met yours, everything else disappeared.

There was no hotel room.

No Chan, no Hyunjin.

Just the crush of Felix’s kiss, soft and aching, his mouth moving like he was memorizing you, like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second he met you.

He pulled back slowly.

Eyes glassy, breath shaky.

“…You didn’t stop me,” he whispered.

You looked at him.

Then at Hyunjin.

Then at Chan.

And said, voice low, and shaking:

“…I didn’t want to.”

You didn’t breathe.

None of you did.

Felix’s kiss still lingered on your lips, and the weight of your confession—“I didn’t want to”—hung in the room like smoke after fire.

Three boys stood before you.

One had kissed you.

The other two?

Staring, shocked.

And then—

Hyunjin scoffed, a low and dangerous sound, almost amused.

“Oh…” he said, stepping forward, voice dark with something unhinged. “We’re stealing kisses now?”

Your heart slammed against your chest.

“Hyunjin—”

He was already in front of you, hand in your shirt, fist clenched around the fabric near your collar like he didn’t trust himself to be gentle.

He yanked you forward.

Your chests collided.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

Hot.

Mouth crashing into yours with none of Felix’s softness—all hunger, all sharp edges and frustration and ‘God, I’ve wanted this for too long.’

He didn’t give you time to gasp.

Didn’t let you think.

Just took.

His hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, gripping—not to hurt, but to hold you there.

Like he was scared you’d run.

Like he’d chase you if you did.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was wrecked.

“You kissed him. You kissed me.”

And then—

A hand on his shoulder.

Not aggressive.

Just there.

Hyunjin froze, breath heaving.

There was Chan.

Still silent, still unreadable.

His fingers curled tightly around Hyunjin’s hoodie, tugging once.

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched.

He let go of your shirt and stepped back, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

Chan didn’t speak until Hyunjin was clear.

Then he looked down at you.

And oh God—

That look.

That slow burn in his eyes.

Like he’d waited.

Like he’d let them go first.

But now?

Now it was his turn.

His hand rose to cup your cheek—bigger, rougher, and steady.

“You sure you don’t want to choose?” he asked quietly.

Your breath caught. “I—”

He didn’t wait for you to respond.

He kissed you to silence.

And it was devastating.

Not rushed.

Not angry.

Just deep and possessive in a way that made your knees buckle.

His lips moved slowly, like he wanted you to feel every second of it, like he had all the time in the world but no patience left at all.

When he pulled back, you were dizzy.

Your body leaned forward, chasing him without realizing.

And from behind—Hyunjin’s voice.

“Yo,” he snapped, breathless. “No fair.”

Chan’s thumb brushed your lip, smug. “Didn’t see your name on her, did I?”

Felix, from the side—still flushed, still watching with wide eyes: “…I’d like to file a complaint.”

You actually laughed, and it was the only thing that kept you from collapsing right then and there.

Because now?

There was no going back.

Your breath was still shaky.

Your shirt wrinkled from Hyunjin’s fist, your lip still tingling from Chan’s last kiss, and you swear Felix’s scent is still on your skin.

The air feels wet with tension. Heated.

You can’t tell if your legs are trembling from adrenaline or desire.

But then Felix moves, and you forget how to think altogether.

He’s in front of you again, gently shoving past Chan. His hands are curling around your waist, eyes wild with something soft and wrecked all at once.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs.

Then his lips are on yours once more.

And they’re starving.

Not just want—but relief. Like he’s been waiting, needing, holding it back, and finally—finally—he can kiss you the way he’s been dreaming about.

His hand slips beneath your shirt—just at your waist, not going further—but his thumb traces a slow circle on your skin, and your knees damn near give out.

But a warm body presses into your back, holding you up.

Hyunjin’s taller; you feel him before you hear him—his breath on your neck, fingers curling over your hip, grounding you like an anchor tied to a storm.

You gasp into Felix’s mouth.

And Hyunjin laughs. Low and dirty.

“You let him have you first?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “That’s cute.”

Felix growls softly against your mouth but doesn’t stop kissing you.

Hyunjin’s hands slide up your sides, over the curve of your ribs, until he tilts your face back—gently—and replaces Felix’s kiss with his own.

And his is rougher, hungrier.

He kisses like he’s trying to break a rule, with one hand fisted in your hair, while the other traces down your front until you whimper into his mouth.

That’s when Felix shifts—he’s kissing down your neck now, whispering something you can’t hear, but feel all the way down your spine.

You’re shaking, and then Chan’s voice cuts through the haze.

Calm. Dangerous. Full of command.

“She’s mine.”

Before you can blink, Hyunjin’s pulled away, and you’re yanked forward, pressed full against Chan’s chest, his hand cradling the back of your head like you’re precious.

And then—he kisses you.

Slow. Deep. Dominant.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for the right moment to end you.

And now that it’s here, he’s going to take his time.

His tongue drags along yours in a rhythm that makes your spine arch.

Your hands fist into his shirt, clawing at his chest for something real to hold onto because the rest of you is floating.

You feel Felix still kissing your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s hands are back on your waist, mouth brushing the side of your throat.

Your brain stops, and you can’t breathe.

You barely whisper, voice wrecked: “Wait… who’s—who was—”

Someone groans against your neck.

“Does it matter?” Hyunjin murmurs, biting just under your ear.

Another mouth is back on yours—Felix this time, you think—but it’s getting hard to tell.

Your body sways. Someone’s hand is on your thigh. Another at your back. Another tugging gently at your wrist.

Three mouths. Three voices.

All saying your name in three different languages of worship.

And for the first time—

You don’t want to choose.

You want this.

All of it.

You’re not sure who kisses you next.

Lips blur together, tongues tangle.

Your name becomes a prayer in three different voices—low, desperate, and reverent.

Hands roam your waist, your thighs, your arms—like they can’t decide what part of you they need to memorize first.

You’re barely holding onto reality when a pair of arms suddenly scoop you up from behind.

Strong and solid, and your gasp is swallowed by Felix’s lips.

But your back lands against a firm chest a second later, your thighs pulled over thick legs, your body dropped straight into a lap.

And when you blink—oh, you’re in Chan’s arms.

His hoodie’s already gone, and his skin burns against yours. His thighs are spread wide under you like a throne.

His arms wrap around your waist like he doesn’t plan to ever let go.

“Finally,” he mutters into your ear. “Been dreaming of this since day one.”

Then—

His fingers curl into the hem of your shirt.

And lift.

You let him, and now your top is gone.

You’re bare from the waist up, sitting in Bang Chan’s lap, surrounded by two other men whose eyes go dark with need.

You cover yourself on instinct—but Hyunjin’s already kneeling in front of you, his mouth at your chest, his hot breath grazing your skin. His eyes drag up to meet yours as he grits out, “Don’t you dare.”

He moves your hands away with a growl, kissing you right on your nipple.

His tongue follows, flattening to drag a slow lick across the hardened peak, and it’s filthy.

He doesn’t ask, he takes.

Then Felix’s shirt hits the floor behind you with a soft whump.

He’s pressing kisses down your arm now, murmuring “So soft… so fucking pretty…” between each one.

Chan’s hand slides up your thigh, splaying across your stomach, his voice low and rough in your ear:

“Still want all of us?” he breathes.

You nod without thinking.

“No, baby. I need to hear it.”

You exhale shakily, writhing in his lap as Hyunjin’s tongue flicks.

“Yes.”

Felix nips your shoulder.

Hyunjin moans.

And Chan?

Chan pulls your head back and kisses you like he’s going to make you say it again with your entire body.

Hyunjin groans, unlatching from your breast just long enough to declare: “You taste like everything I’ve wanted.”

You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his curls, nails grazing the delicate skin of his neck, desperate to mark him as much as he’s marking you.

Your senses spiral—skin tingling, lips swollen from their kisses, your chest rising and falling too fast.

You can’t tell where one man’s touch ends and another’s begins; it’s a symphony of sensations, a dance of lips and hands and whispered names.

Chan’s mouth captures yours again, slow and demanding, tongue teasing, searching, claiming.

Hyunjin’s hands travel lower, sliding beneath your waistband, fingertips tracing the sensitive curve of your hipbone, cherishing hearing you gasp.

Felix’s lips find the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing, sucking a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless.

Your hands roam over their bodies—over firm shoulders, along hard arms, under shirts that have long since been discarded.

The heat between you all is a tangible thing, thick and heavy and impossible to ignore.

You’re drowning in desire, in affection, in the messy, beautiful chaos of being loved and wanted by three men who see you—truly see you—in every breath and every touch.

And as their lips and hands claim you again and again, you know, deep in your soul, this is just the beginning.

To be continued

-E

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Don't Bite Your Lip - Lando Norris

<word count - 2524>

Another night, and another stream. This was how you had met Lando, but he had slowed it down once F1 was back up and running. Of course, he didn't really have much time to play games with George, Charles, and Alex anymore.

Today, you had been recommended a game by a few followers as well as a few friends. 'Don't Scream'. The game premise was just the same as the title, you had to get to the end of the game without screaming. If you made any noises that the program deemed too loud, you would have to restart.

"OK chat, I haven't looked at the game, I haven't watched any clips, I didn't want to take away any of the scare factor from it," you explained, watching the rapid replies of the chat come through as they filtered into the stream.

From the other room, Lando was watching on. He always enjoyed your streams, even if he got to see the real thing practically every day. Something about seeing you play games and chat with people was oddly comforting to him.

As much as he wished he could join you and play games together, he had team emails he needed to sort through, and he wouldn't get any of that done if he was watching you. He left the stream on his phone off to the side, just so he could hear the soothing tones of your voice while he worked.

"So, here we go," you said after calibrating your mic so that you could still talk to the chat in quiet whispers, but screaming would kill your character. "I've got to last 18 minutes, without screaming," you whispered, navigating around the map for a little bit.

Lando smirked to himself as he heard, his mind instantly taking you back to the last time you had visited his parents. He just couldn't keep his hands to himself, practically pinning you down on the bed in his old room the second the door was closed.

You had told him to stop, since you didn't want anyone (especially not his family) to hear any activities of that sort. As usual, Lando made promises that he did not intend to keep. Said he'd go steady, said he'd be gentle, but he got carried away.

You spent the whole time with his hand clapped over your mouth as you used every ounce of self restraint you had not to bite into the flesh of his palm. Lando thought it was one of the best nights you had together, but he wasn't a moaning, quivering mess, so you disagreed.

Shaking his head to snap out of his far from innocent thoughts, he glanced over at your stream to see that you had gotten 2 minutes into the game, the lights still on as you explored the site of the plane crash.

You wandered into the cockpit of the plane, trying to click on the tape recorder in the center console. Lando found the slight way that your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows came together in confusion as one of the most adorable things he had ever seen.

"Well that isn't worki-" you said, being cut off as you turned around and some form of monster ran at you. You let out a small squeak of surprise, and your character fell over and died. "Right, so that's how the game works. Got it." you said, slightly annoyed.

The jumpscare was cheap, it was basic, but damn was it effective. Both you and Lando could see the chat laughing at you and making fun of you for getting scared at such a minor thing. Someone sent through a super chat, with a small message of 'Y/N, Charles in a banana costume is scarier than that'.

"Charles in the banana costume was funny, not scary. That was scary. But now I know for next time," you laughed, entering back into the game. You manoeuvred back through the map, back through the plane, holding your breath as you turned around and endured the jumpscare again.

"I did it that time, I did it. I think I just need to try and not talk, because then I'm not making any noise to start with. That would make for some very boring content though," you whispered, continuing your way through the game.

The daylight turned to night, and you took your hands off the keyboard. "This is where shit gets scary," you said, subconsciously biting your lip so that you wouldn't let out any noise. Lando spotted the action out of the corner of his eye, his attention instantly averted from his emails to the stream.

"Emails can wait," he mumbled to himself, swapping off the tab of his emails and logging into Twitch so that he could watch the stream on his laptop instead of his phone. You looked tense, ready for something to happen at the drop of a hat.

"Is something supposed to be happening? Nothings happening," you quietly ranted, still walking through the forest. "I can hear weird noises but there's nothing going on," you continued, the only sounds being some faint sirens in the background.

"Chat stop saying my game is broken? Is it actually broken?" you asked, and Lando could hear the slight tone of panic in your voice. "I'll keep going, I can see a building."

"I really don't wanna go in the scary building. But fuck it," you said with a burst of confidence, sinking your teeth back into the soft flesh of your lower lip. You pushed your way through the shop, taking in your surroundings as you waited for something to happen. 

"Hanging bodies, how cheerful," you mumbled, scared to speak in case something popped up and you were mid sentence. Some form of skeletal monster jumped up from the bottom of your screen, and you leant back and bit even harder into your bottom lip.

"That nearly got me, but we've gotta power through," you whispered, and Lando could see the reddish-purple marks that your teeth were leaving behind in your skin. A pang of concern rippled through him, not wanting you to hurt yourself too badly. 

Yes, he loved it when you bit your lip in that way, but not in the way you were currently doing so. He could see the way your jaw tensed when you bit down harder when you thought something was coming, or you heard a noise in the background. 

'Baby don't bite your lip so hard, you'll start bleeding.' Lando messaged you, and it popped up on the corner of your desktop. 

"OK, sorry," you said, and chat was confused. "Lando just texted me, don't worry about it," you explained, and they were all asking you to bring Lando in. "Guys he's busy, maybe he'll make an appearance later." you told them, and Lando giggled to himself in the other room. 

He was supposed to be busy, but he was currently occupied with making sure you didn't make yourself bleed. 

You took yourself out of the shop and back out into the forest. Every small rustle made you flinch, but you were focusing more on not chewing on your lip than the actual jumpscares in the game. "Who is she and why is she stood there?" you questioned, looking at the lady in white with black hair that was stood in the forest.

As you took a step closer, she disappeared along with a blood-curdling scream. You had to hold a hand over your mouth and push your chair back from the desk to make sure the mic didn't pick up any noises you made or the sounds of your very heavy breathing. 

Lando found it extremely amusing, though he could tell you were biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise, even under your hand. His suspicions were confirmed when you pulled your hand away and the faint teeth marks on the skin were darker and slightly more pronounced. 

'Bite that lip one more time and I'll be right in there to make sure you don't hurt yourself, got it?' he texted, the urge to burst into your office proving to be very strong indeed. He saw as your eyes drifted to the corner of your screen, and he knew you had read his message. 

"How the fuck have I still got 7 minutes left?" you complained, chat finding your reactions funny as hell. The next few minutes were fine, and you were nearly on your way to beating the game. You had gotten through 4 minutes of some pretty bearable jumpscares, and your chat was telling you that now the game just throws them at you without many breaks. 

There was more rustling, then footsteps, then silence. You didn't even care about Lando being annoyed at you for biting your lip, you cared more about not losing the goddamn game. You carried on walking, until you heard the footsteps coming at you in quick succession, not allowing you to compose yourself before the jumpscare happened. 

You saw a woman running at you from the shadows, and everything happened way to fast. "Oh fuck!" you yelled as your character died. Lando heard your shout from his place in the other room, yet he was more bothered at the sight of you biting your lip again. 

As you released it from between your teeth, his eyes narrowed and a hint of frustration crawled through his veins as he saw the dark indents they had left behind. He knew it was scary, but he didn't like you doing that to yourself. 

"God I was so close to the end as well. Fuck, that's annoying," you bloviated, leaning back in your chair as the main menu to the game popped back up on scream. "Give me a sec, and then we can go again chat, whew," you said, taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to go and get a glass of water, don't be getting up to any shenanigans while I'm gone." you told them, staying for a few seconds with the replies of 'we'll be good'. You hopped out of your chair, making your way down to the kitchen.

Lando made sure you were gone before slipping into your office, sitting down in the space you had vacated. Chat lost their minds as he appeared, the comments playfully berating him for pretending to be busy when he really wasn't.

"I was busy, but now I am not, so I'm here," he explained to them,. "She hates horror games, so I don't know how you talked her into playing this, but well done to your guys. It has been thoroughly entertaining."

'Lando I thought you were working, but you're watching the stream?' one comment said. 

"Yes, I was working and watching, I can multitask very well, thank you." he chuckled, hearing your feet coming back upstairs. "I was never here, OK? Don't grass on me." he instructed, but he knew chat would undoubtedly grass on him for his impromptu appearance. 

Lando hurried out of the room and back into the room next door, hoping you hadn't spotted him. Sitting back down in your chair, you saw all the comments screaming about Lando. "Lando isn't here, I don't know what you're on about."

The barrage of comments telling on Lando and talking about Lando continued to flow in, and you were getting more confused by the second. "Guys I do not know what you mean, Lando wasn't here. He's still working." you told them, and Lando was trying to keep his laughter quiet in the other room as he watched on. 

"Lando?" you called out, his ears pricking up at the sound of your voice. 

"Yeah?"

"Can you come in here for a sec?" you asked, and he moved from his position and came into your office. "Right, have you been in here at all today?"

"No, I haven't. Why do you ask?" he cheekily grinned, looking over at chat and seeing the replies. 

'This man is trying to gaslight his way out of it smh' was a response that caught his eye. 

"I am not gaslighting, I wasn't here," he kept up his act of innocence. "Do I get to sit down or do I just have to hover awkwardly here?"

"Pull up a chair, my old one is in the closet," you told him, watching as he moved over to your cupboard and opened it, wheeling it out to be by your side. 

"Well shuffle up, you can't hog all the frame," he lightheartedly jibed, pushing you over. "Come on, we're playing again. No biting your lip this time, that looks like it hurts," he repeated, leaning in to look at the fading marks on your lip. 

"Yeah yeah, whatever," you rolled your eyes, starting up the game again and going through the motions. The scares got you less, but Lando was watching you like a hawk. As you returned to the shop, your lip somehow found its way between your teeth again. 

"Baby. Lip." Lando scolded in a whisper, and chat were dying at his commands. You listened and managed to not tug at your lip for the next 15 minutes, but, once you had reached the end, new scares that you hadn't seen before were popping up one after the other after the other. 

All you had was one minute left. One more minute and you could be done with the stupid game and go back to your chilled out, cozy streams of games that didn't make your heart rate spike through the roof. One more minute until-

"Don't bite your lip like that!" Lando chided a little too loudly, causing the game to react and kill you just before you had reached the end.

"Lando for fucks sake I was nearly there!" you exclaimed, looking at him with eyes of thunder. "My lip would've been fine for just 30 more seconds."

"Don't blame me, you could've just done what I asked, but no." Lando returned, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

The comments were all along the lines of 'Oh shit, mum and dad are fighting again.'

Before Lando could get another word in, you told chat that you were going to call it a night, the both of you saying your goodbyes and shutting down the stream. Lando went to get ready for bed while you shut off your computer and your equipment, before turning off the LEDs in the room and leaving.

The second you walked through the bedroom door, Lando tugged on your wrist and pushed you down on the bed. You had no time to respond to his actions as he crawled over you, holding himself on top of you with a hand at either side of your head.

"You bite that goddamn lip one more time, I'm going to be pissed, got it?" he lowly said, his tone firm with a slight hint of mischief. 

"Mhm," you hummed, nodding. If you were going to listen to him at any time, now was sure as hell that time. Lando could be one ruthless bastard, but you were always one to answer to his demands. It ended better for you that way, anyway. Much, much, better.

A/N - Seriously you lot, thank you so so so much on the love you've been giving my stuff recently. I really hope that I don't get shadowbanned again, and I hope you enjoy this little ol' Lando thing I whipped up last night. Also... lmk in my comments or inbox (if the fucking thing starts working because Tumblr really needs to get on that) if y'all want me to get back into writing smut... because I've been considering it recently. I have 2 or 3 things started that I just never finished because I hate the way I write it, but it's gone down pretty well before, so I'll let you guys be the judge. Sorry for rambling, have a wonderful day/night, love y'all! 💖💖

|masterlist|

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hello! I've been seeing a lot of smosh vidcon content lately as well as rewatching shayne guesses and it made me brainstorm a bit!

How about a Spencer x reader where he freaks out about his favorite creator being at vidcon (the reader obvi) and the other cast members trying so hard to get them to meet and they hit it off? *you know Kiana would be allll over helping a bestie out lol*

or maybe even the same kind of thing but instead of meeting, reader is one of Spencer's fav youtubers in Shayne's guessing favorite youtubers video? Shayne immediately knows it's spencer and kind of outs his crush! reader is a big fan of smosh so she sees the video and it goes from there!

absolutely adore your work and keep it up queen! 🫶

See You Online || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you see a smosh video of spencer saying you’re one of his favorite youtubers, you begin to interact online. then, when you both attend vidcon (and spencer’s friends convince him to talk to you) you hit it off

word count: 2.6k

warnings: mild language

a/n: hey darling! so i kind of went with both of these ideas and i hope you like what i did 🤭 i included some fake insta/yt in this because it fit so this is partially a social media au. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Well, this is obviously Spencer.”

     Shayne tapped his pen against the desk as he looked at the screen in front of him.

     Three YouTuber names had appeared next to him for the viewers to see. 

     “What makes it me?” Spencer’s teasing voice came from off camera. 

     “C’mon,” Shayne said. “We got Retro Game Corp, MandaloreGaming, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

     He continued. “Everyone knows you love retro shit. MandaloreGaming sounds like just the kind of nerd thing you’d be into. And (Y/n)—that one’s just self explanatory. I mean, Spencer’s obsessed with (Y/n). Ask anyone in the office.”

     “Ok woah,” Spencer piped in again. “I don’t know about obsessed.”

     “Dude, you just told me yesterday that you watched her videos until two in the morning the night before,” Shayne addressed him.

      Then he faced back to the screen, to the viewers. “Spencer’s got a little bit of a crush on (Y/n). It’s uh, it’s honestly adorable.”

      A woman’s muffled voice came from offscreen. 

     Shayne laughed. “Kiana said Spencer would have (Y/n)’s babies.”

     “Dude!” Spencer yelled at Kiana offscreen. “What if she sees this!”

     “There’s no way,” Shayne laughed. “There’s no way any of the YouTubers from this video are seeing this.”

      “Imagine,” Spencer joked. “I’m like, ‘hey (Y/n), hit me up’, and then she sees this, bro.”

      “Hey,” Shayne raised his eyebrows. “You never know. I mean, I married a YouTuber.”

      “Just an excuse to bring up Courtney,” Spencer coughed.

      “Anyway,” Shayne put his hands on the table in front of him. “We’re getting a little off track here. We’ve established Spencer’s in love with (Y/n). Now—do I even have to guess?—show me Spencer!”

      He pointed to the side as an imagine of Spencer popped up on the screen. 

      “Well, thanks for that easy round,” Shayne joked. “Now, let’s see the next set of YouTubers…”

     And that was where you stopped watching the video every time. You’d seen the whole of Shayne Guesses Favorite YouTubers before, but when you went back to rewatch it, it was always this clip.

     You’d been sent this specific clip by hundreds of people. Your followers and subscribers on all different platforms. The comments ranged from ‘oh my gosh look at this’ to ‘you have to see this smosh video’ to ‘petition to get Spencer and (Y/n) to go out’.

     What they didn’t know, was that you’d seen it long before they began tagging you in it.

     You were a huge Smosh fan, and had been for years. Imagine your shock when you yourself were named in one of their videos. 

     You’d only been a creator for a little over a year now, but you’d quickly gained a following and were becoming more and more popular online. It still all felt so surreal, and seeing yourself named as someone’s favorite YouTuber—especially on one of your favorite channels—felt like a huge moment.

      That, and you were flattered by Shayne’s comments about Spencer. You thought it was sweet that he enjoyed your content and—you couldn’t stop the blush from spreading to your cheeks—you. 

      That was what prompted you to leave a comment under the video—a comment which Spencer responded to.

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

Can Shayne Guess Our Favorite YouTubers? Smosh Games • 721k views • 38k 👍

comments 2.9k

yourusername ✓: does this count as being in the youtuber and the celeb crush vid?

♥️ by creator

spennser ✓: it was actually only until 1am i swear smoshyyy651: spensser LMAOOOO chumbawumbasnumbertwofan: the fact that (y/n) (y/l/n) saw this ✋😭 y/nstanforlifeee: oh my gosh my queen is here 👑 I love you and your vids (not as much as Spencer apparently asksfsk)

mya_sol: how many times have you watched 8:04? me: yes

yourfavoritepizzaplace: ‘spencer would have (y/n)’s babies’ KIANA THATS WILDDDD 💀

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

    And from there, you began interacting. Leaving comments and likes on each other’s videos and instagram posts. Leaving fans to obsess over your every interaction, to make compilations, to wonder if you were dating.

     Because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t read most of the comments about you two. 

    You enjoyed your little online back-and-forth. You’d known who Spencer was before the Shayne Guesses video had come out. Watching Smosh on-and-off for years, you’d seen him in multiple videos.

     It still felt so unreal for him to know who you were—not only know who you were but like your videos.

     And now look at you, messaging him and liking his posts like you were old friends. Spencer pretty much liked and commented on every one of your feeds or stories or uploads.

     After your original comment on the Smosh video, things just…took off. You didn’t really know how it started, one comment led to another, and suddenly it was like you had always congratulated each other and left witty comments on each other’s pages. 

     You smiled as you stared at the screen of your phone, looking over your’s and Spencer’s latest interaction. You couldn’t deny that he was really cute. You’d always thought so. 

     You thought of Shayne saying that Spencer had a crush on you and you felt your smile grow bigger.

     Your empty suitcase caught your eye as you looked up, sitting on your bed and reminding you that you still had to pack.

     You set your phone down. Fangirling over Spencer could wait. You still had yet to pack for your flight that that was in two days, and you didn’t want to leave it ‘till the last minute—or, more last minute than it already was.  

     You had been lucky enough to be invited to VidCon this year, and you were thrilled about getting to go as a creator and meet other artists who had inspired you. You were less thrilled about the packing.

      You stood up and walked towards your closet, starting to decide which outfits you wanted to bring, daydreaming about what VidCon would be like. All while thinking about Spencer.

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

yourusername

liked by hannahmontoya, spennser, and 21,449 others

yourusername: new vid up now !! 💌

view all comments

haleypham: about to go watch it right now xoxo love you

yourusername: stop ilysm 🤭

ynsgirlfriend: WAKE UP SHE POSTED 🙏

spennser: guess what i’m going to be doing at 2am

⤷ liked by yourusername

darlingdaisy: please do a grwm next i need to see your skincare routine!!

ryla768: we’re being fed well today 🙇‍♀️

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

spennser

liked by yourusername, filmingamanda, and 17,914 others

spennser: it’s giving cat lady

view all comments

phatchanse: *cat queen

yourusername: my cat says to tell ur cat hi

spennser: my cat says ur cat’s pretty cute carmensanfransisco: LOL 😂🐈 urmom17: oh my gosh she commented spencer are you freaking out? spennser: urmom17 shitting my pants fr

jessicarabbitsimp: who else has noticed spencer and (y/n) all over each other’s igs 😏

smoshismylife: love you spencer 🫶

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────── yourusername

liked by spennser, iamjordiofficial, and 32,712 others

yourusername: thx for 100k 🥂

view all comments

spensser: yay i contributed

⤷ liked by yourusername

yourusername: how’d you have time to create 100k accs tho? ⤷ liked by spennser

lucindajones101: congrats girlie!! you deserve it

ynfan7: my queen 🧎‍♀️

butterflyenjoyer: been here since the beginning 🥹 keep shining!!

getyninasmoshvideo: the way spencer makes an appearance on all her posts 😭

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

VidCon was amazing. 

      Today was the first day, and you couldn’t wait for all the festive still to come. You had already seen so many cool presentations and been a part of so many workshops and met so many interesting people. 

      And now, as you stood at the table set aside for you, staring at the slowing line of people still waiting to meet you, you thought that this was definitely your favorite part.

     You’d gotten to talk to people who watched your channel and hear how your content had impacted their lives or inspired them to create. It really made it all feel worth it. It made you love your job and all of the opportunities it had given you.

     You’d been here for nearly two hours already, and still there were a few more fans waiting to speak with you and get a picture.  

     You smiled to yourself as the last of the people filed through, letting the momentary silence wash over you. You had just picked up your phone to take a quick selfie for a later post, when you heard a commotion to your left.

     You turned to the source of the noise and had to do a double take when you saw the entire cast of Smosh at a setup similar to yours, having their own meet and greet.

     You didn’t know why in all of your thinking about Spencer you hadn’t assumed that Smosh would be at VidCon. It seemed obvious now. They were YouTubers, weren’t they?

     Speaking of Spencer, you saw him talking to Courtney and your heart did a little flip in your chest. After interacting with him online these past few weeks, and watching his channel for these past few years, it seemed crazy to see him in person. 

     As if sensing your presence, he looked your way and you turned away in time so it didn’t look like you’d been staring. You didn’t think he’d caught you watching him. 

     “Wait? Spencer, is that (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?” Courtney’s voice carried over the several feet that separated you.

     “Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed,” you heard him say sarcastically, even though your back was turned to him. You stepped a little bit closer to their location, pretending to be fixing something on your lanyard.

     “Dude, you have to go talk to her,” you heard a male voice—Shayne? You didn’t dare turn around—say.

     “No way man,” Spencer answered, “What would I even say?”

     “You’ve been commenting on each other’s instagrams for like a month, you’ll think of something,” Courtney said.

     “Yeah, but that’s different. This would be, like, a real conversation,” he answered. “I don’t actually know her. What if she thinks I’m just some creepy fan, and it’s like bro back off.”

     You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. Oh, what he didn’t know.

     Then the music in the venue picked up and you couldn’t hear their conversation for nearly a minute. You walked a few feet back over to your table, picking up and looking at a few of the gifts fans had given you, finding a new way to look busy. This went on for another minute before you heard a new voice say,

     “What’s this about Spence and (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

     “Just that Spencer’s going to go up to her,” Courtney announced. 

     “I’ll get the popcorn,” the voice said. 

     “No, Kiana,” you heard Spencer say. “That’s not what’s happening.”

     “You’ll regret if forever if you don’t go talk to (Y/n),” The voice—Kiana—stated. 

     “No way. That’d be like if I asked you to just ‘go up and talk to’ Darren Chris,” Spencer said

     “My favorite white guy,” Kiana joked.

     “Hey bro, I thought we established that was me!” Spencer said in outrage. 

     “You will be if you go and talk to (Y/n),” she finished. 

     “I will not be manipulated,” you heard him say, and you stifled another chuckle. 

     “No, but you will be shoved,” Kiana said.

     “Wait what?” Spencer got out, before you heard a scuffing sound.

     You turned around just as Kiana pushed Spencer and suddenly he was right before you. 

     “Hey,” he said, looking uncomfortable, shooting a glare behind him at Kiana. “I heard there was a meet and greet?”

     You smiled. “You just missed it, actually.” 

     “Damn, next year then,” he said.

     “I suppose I could make an exception,” you teased. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to take away anyone’s Favorite White Guy title.”

     Spencer winced. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

     “What conversation?” You winked at him. 

     “I can’t remember,” Spencer said, smiling as he rubbed a hand along the side of his face.

     You were both silent for a moment.

     “So,” Spencer started, breaking it. “I would tell you that I love watching your content—until a very reasonable hour of the night, might I add—but you kind of already know that. And I bet you’ve already been told that by hundreds of people today.”

     “Not by anyone nearly as cute though,” you replied, before leaning in to mock-whisper. “And I don’t mind hearing it again.”

     “Also,” you continued. “I could say the same to you. I love Smosh—I’ve watched your channel for years. You guys are all so talented.”

     “Really? No way,” Spencer smiled. “You watch Smosh?”

     “Really,” you smiled back. “I did know who you were before the Shayne Guesses video, you know.”

     “Don’t remind me,” Spencer said, shaking his head.

     “I thought it was sweet,” you told him, laughing. “And if that video had never happened, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

     “Or at Buca Di Beppo tonight at 8?” Spencer said, with trepidation.

     “Or that,” you agreed, nodding. “Are you asking me out on a date, Spencer Agnew?” 

     You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. 

     “I guess I am,” he said. “Unless you’re going to slap me, in which case no.”

     “Only if the date goes badly,” you teased. “And if you don’t make 100,000 more accounts to subscribe to my channel with.”

     Spencer grinned. “Done. And I can introduce you to the rest of the gang.”

     “Are they good with me crashing your guys’ dinner?” You asked. You couldn’t believe you were going to meet the members of Smosh.

     You couldn’t believe you were going on a date with Spencer. 

     “Oh, they already know about it. They’re listening to every word of our conversation right now.” Spencer pointed a thumb behind him and you looked over his shoulder to see all of the Smosh cast watching you.

     They all waved at you.

     “Hey girl hey!” Kiana called to you, smirking at Spencer. 

     You waved back at them, grinning. 

     “Well, I don’t want to keep you from meet-and-greet-ing any longer,” you said, turning back to Spencer.

     “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” Spencer joked, gesturing between the two of you.

     “Doesn’t count,” you said back. “Technically we’ve already met on the internet.”

     “Yeah, well, you’re much prettier in person,” Spencer said, as he backed up towards the rest of the Smosh cast.

     “Well then,” you said, only a little bit breathless. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

     “Unless I see you on the internet first,” Spencer said, turning around and walking away. 

     You couldn’t wait. Not only did you have your date with Spencer to look forward to, you also had the rest of VidCon to get to know Spencer better and hopefully hang out with him before all this was over. 

     You turned to leave as well, walking in the opposite direction of Spencer as you tried to think where you had to be next. It was hard to focus when all your thoughts were occupied by something else. Someone else.

     You were almost out of earshot when you heard Kiana’s voice, carrying over the crowds of people.

     “Get over here, loser. I’ll take my thanks in the form of cash and/or worsted weight yarn.”

──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

yourusername

liked by spennser, co_mill, and 41,813 others

yourusername: had the best time with spennser at vidcon ‘24 ❣️

view all comments

kianaparker: ok but i’m glowing (also yw 💁🏾‍♀️)

⤷ liked by yourusername

spennser: new phone who dis?

yourusername: definitely not your gf ⤷ liked by spennser materialgorl199: GF?!? AHHHHH heatherscandystore: wait they’re together? I’m so happy for them ily both sm 🤭

jessicarabbitsimp: I KNEW IT WAIT 😭

thirdcutestsmoshboy: i met both of them there and they were so sweet

ynislife: so are they dating???

angelagiovanagiarratana: GUYS 🥹

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed this little bit of a different format. i had sm fun writing this. check out my other spencer fics if u want more like this 🎀

[chevelleneech]

Overall, when it comes to Jikook, we're at the point where haters seem to be even more convinced than we are that something is happening between them, because they see the videos before I do, they know where they are before I do, they know their every move when I barely know where they are at all, they follow more Jikook accounts than I do… Like, are they haters or are they fans? They lash out, but all I'm hearing with their Jungkook contracts is that they're seeing exactly what I'm seeing. It's just that I like what I'm seeing, and they don't.

They scream fan-service, but then they BEG for some other duo to get the same treatment… like, you mean you want your duo to do fan-service? Make it make sense.

Exactly. I am always out of the loop and have to scroll twitter after coming here to catch up on what the new drama is. As I said a few days before, I wasn’t even aware they left New York until about three days ago, lol. So it’s definitely given fan, fan, fan. They keep up with Jikook because they dissect their every move to find a crack to widen, which is what I’ll never understand.

I love watching group, duo, and subunit content. More than I like solo content, tbh, so I tend to always engage with whatever is released if more than one member is involved.

Yes, I lean more toward enjoying Jikook content, but I think the only duo content I haven’t watched was the minimoni sit down, and that was because I saw nearly every clip of it through twitter. Other than that, I enjoy all the pairings, so it doesn’t compute for me that other people hate some, while also wanting the content of the ones they hate.

People hate how “forced” JM and JK are to interact, but want the supposedly scripted travel trips? Wanted the supposedly paid for enlistment? Want the Memories dvds to have the same amount of footage for a pairing they enjoy, that Jikook have? How does that work?

If filmed content is fake, how do those fans expect to consume everything they want? Is Hybe supposed to beam it telepathically into their heads? And if Jimin and Jungkook are so easily bought by the company and are willing to engage in fan service, what stops any of their other friendships from being fake too?

Jungkook doesn’t hang out with Namjoon nor Hobi very often, so are we to assume anytime he mentions them or they him, it’s because the company dropped a check? And Jimin, well, he hangs out with all the members the most, off camera, so is he only doing fan service with JK? What about Hobi? He’s arguably the most vocally supportive of everyone, so is he too being paid to post in their comment sections and show up for them?

As well, where is the cutoff? How do we differentiate between company sponsored fan service and genuine friendship? Or is it specifically the pairing that has been inseparable for 12 years, with no public fallout or even passively mentioned stretch of dislike?

[mariacallous]

Carson Campbell didn’t feel any remorse for his vote, and was even relishing in the chaos it might cause one of Love Island USA’s most contentious cast members of the season. “I love mess and I love reality TV,” the 24-year-old student and content creator says. “I love something with an end goal, when people are working toward a purpose.”

As a Love Island USA superfan who live-tweets and recaps every episode on TikTok, Campbell feels personally invested in how the reality dating show unfolds. Most reality programs are pre-recorded, but Love Island USA, an American spinoff of a British dating show by the same name that follows contestants at a luxury villa with the goal of finding love, is filmed in real time and airs six nights weeks (on Peacock) over a six-week period in the summer. Its format relies on votes from viewers, via the Love Island app, to help determine how the show progresses (you vote on favorite cast members, who pairs off on dates, and more).

That interactive component gave viewers the power to split up two contestants—Huda Mustafa and Jeremiah Brown—who coupled together in the first episode but had become too toxic for their own good by episode 13. Mustafa was controlling and territorial; in one episode she eavesdropped on Brown during a private conversation with other male contestants, calling him a “bitch” and a “pussy.” Brown was portrayed as a textbook love bomber; during a group challenge he confessed to telling 10 women he loved them.

When the time came to decide on their relationship, “we all agreed,” Campbell tells me from his home in Queens, New York. He often consults with his friends when a vote takes place. “America came together as a democracy and said we need them apart no matter who we have to throw in there as collateral. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not fair. But it was the right thing to do. Watching at home, we can see when something is going to crash and burn.”

The split sent Mustafa into a rage and her “crash out” went viral across social media. “Peak cinema,” Campbell calls it. While a lot of fans appeared to be fed up with Mustafa, prior to the shake-up, some worried about her well-being— “I thought Huda crashout would be funny, y’all I was wrong,” @daesbloodline posted on X. Fans have even tracked down Noah Sheline, her ex-boyfriend and father of her four-year-daughter, to express their disapproval for Mustafa. “You got one hell of an easy full custody battle ahead of you brother,” one person commented on his TikTok feed. Sheline released a statement on TikTok calling the fan obsession “unhealthy.”

“Her going on that show to find love, or whatever you think it was she’s doing, remember she’s still human, she has a daughter, and a life,” he wrote. “ I don’t like that I’m seeing so much negative shit on my page or even clips of it about her.”

Although Mustafa was villainized for her erratic behavior on the show, “crashing out”—a Gen Z term for a meltdown—is not uncommon on the show. And it’s a response that seems almost unavoidable on a social experiment where participants are not only surrounded by each other day and night and forced to watch their love interests hook up with other people, but are also subjected to the audience’s often ruthless opinions of them. “I don’t know whether it’s America hates me, or America knows something I don’t,” Mustafa says in a confessional following her fan-induced breakup with Jeremiah. The answer to that may be a little bit of both. One thing is for sure: with 1.2 billion minutes viewed in its first two weeks—the second highest for a streaming program on television—America is watching. Closely.

Because Love Island’s fans help influence major storylines, outcomes, and eliminations, they essentially become backseat producers. But that power can also facilitate an unhealthy amount of investment, says Colman Feighan, 26, a former reality TV producer who is based in LA.

“Involvement from the fans makes a lot of people feel like they can control every single outcome. And they—very much like Huda—feel out of control when it doesn’t necessarily go exactly as they want, or if it does, then they want more to go in their way,” he says. “Very much like the crash outs we’ve seen with her, people are having their own crash outs as well.”

For some fans of reality TV, who treat the genre like an escapist fantasy, their deep investment comes from “getting to play god on top of it,” says Alo Johnston, a licensed therapist at Pershing Square Therapy. “If you as an audience member are using the show to escape a real world that feels uncontrollable and overwhelming then you might feel extra invested in controlling this one small thing.” Following Brown’s elimination from the show, fans demanded his return and have since created a Change.org petition that has over 72,000 signatures.

But it can also be about more than control—our reactions often have to do with how we deal with personal traumas. “When you start to see the way the way people talk about reality show cast members, where some people say, ‘Oh I didn't think what he did was that bad,’ and others are saying ‘I think he's the devil incarnate,’ you're seeing that they are actually reacting to their ex and not the actual person on screen,” Johnston says. “A crash out could be because you are thrown back into processing your own grief or trauma.”

Mustafa’s ex Sheline isn’t the only one who became collateral damage in viewers’ displeasure over how the show has played out. It is a common theme among devoted watchers this season—especially in superfan communities on X, like Huda HQ and Ace Mob, and across TikTok—where online discourse has reached new levels of intensity.

In some cases, viewers are influencing casting decisions at the very outset of the show—and doing deep background checks to reveal anything they consider problematic about contestants.

Before the premiere, fans alleged that two contestants—Austin Shepard and Yulissa Escobar—support MAGA and promised to vote them off right away. A video of Escobar using the n-word in a podcast interview surfaced online, TMZ reported, and she was dropped from the show in the second episode. (Shepard has lasted.) Fans have alleged that multiple other cast members support Trump and the Republican party and spun up a conspiracy theory that contestants Ace Greene and Chelley Bissainthe had a relationship before the show; Bissainthe’s friends have said they followed each other before the show but never dated.

“I find it strange when people suddenly try to expose someone just because they’ve gained popularity,” Feighan says. “If the person has committed a crime or engaged in abusive behavior—even if it’s not publicly documented—then calling that out is fair. But if the issue is simply a difference in opinions that upsets some viewers, the appropriate response is to stop supporting them and unfollow, not to incite a public takedown as not everyone is going to share the same beliefs.”

The negative backlash this season—which has resulted in some contestants getting death threats—is so widespread that Peacock aired a warning during its June 24 episode. “The keyword in Love Island is … LOVE. We love our fans. We love our Islanders. We don’t love cyberbullying, harassment or hate,” it read. On X, the show posted a reminder to viewers to “be kind” and, in an episode of the weekly recap show Aftersun, host Ariana Maddox urged fans to stop acting so reckless. “Don’t be contacting people’s families. Don’t be doxing people. Don’t be going on islanders’ pages and saying rude things,” she said. In 2018, former Love Island UK contestant, Sophie Gradon died by suicide after appearing on the show. That same year, production mandated cast members to attend a post-finale evaluation with a mental health professional, according to Vanity Fair, and cast members now have the option to attend up to eight counseling sessions. In 2019, contestant Mike Thalassitis also died by suicide; that same year show’s former host, Caroline Flack posted on Instagram about being “in a really weird place”. Flack took her life in 2020.

“If the relationships on Love Island make us believe the performance of love leads to the real deal,” Anna Peele wrote in Vanity Fair, “the losses—it feels shameful to say—seem to authenticate the depth of human experience.”

But it’s not all on the fans. Producers are incentivized to edit shows around trending conversations, which raises the stakes for viewers, according to Feighan. “They have the ability to reach numbers like that because whatever is trending online they are able to see that and then put out teasers that show whatever is currently trending on platforms like TikTok,” he says. “It’s catering to the people that are tuning in and talking about it on a daily basis. Whereas you don’t have so much flexibility with other dating shows that are all pre-recorded.”

Reality TV is formatted to be addictive, says Jennifer Gillian, a professor of media studies at Bentley University. “Add to that the surprising ethical norming that occurs when viewers begin to ask themselves, ‘What would I do in this situation? What do I think others would agree is the right thing to do?”

But “that’s where the line gets blurred—people are treating it almost like a competition talent show when in reality it’s a love show,” Feighan says. “Online culture in general—with the keyboard warriors and trolls—is so quick to give input on how they would do something, and it’s very easy to say so when you hide behind a screen, but at the end of the day these are real people on a TV show.”

Though this season has courted its fair share of controversy, conversation across social media is still mostly jokes and memes, especially TikTok supercuts of the villa’s unofficial “Mean Girls” crew—Greene, Vansteenberghe, and Taylor Williams. “Imagine you come out the villa … get your phone, think you gon see thirst trap edits of you on tik tok and instead Morgan Freeman calling you a RAT,” @ascenario_ said of another video, which called out Vansteenberghe for being two-faced.

For Campbell, the crashing out, the fan communities, and emotional intensity viewers bring to the show is what makes it must see TV. It’s how reality TV—on and off screen—works.

“With this show specifically, I don’t have a problem with anybody loving who they love and who they're going hard for,” Campbell says. “My issue is who you like in the show tells me more about you. If your group is called Huda HQ—which is a very corny name—it tells me that you are mostly unstable. The problem is not necessarily about being a part of the larger fan base, because that’s normal now.”

[neo-smpwriterrr]

Last post kind of blew up, so I think it's time for me to make a full post on my take on all this shir going down.

FOR FUTURE REFERENCE: This is before the second crash out stream, apparently that green fuck is gonna drop another stream but because I have a job and life to live unlike this jackass I won't be viewing it till Tuesday at best.

Now to start talking about some of the serious shit, it is my opinion that dream should not be allowed a platform after this. I'm all for freedom of speech and all that shit don't get me wrong but when someone like him as used his platform to manipulate and exploit the minors in his server as well as to intimidate Victims like caitibug. This guy shouldn't be allowed anywhere close to the same audience he used to weaponize them.

It's only a matter of time before the whole server leaks, and the guys already admitted to heinous shit.

Also I find it disgusting that one of his offshore comments made at Tommy was about it Wilbur yelling at him to keep quiet about a possible predator in the server. These pathetic excuses of adults failed everyone in this server and after all these years I think it's time to finally get rid of them.

To any dream stans out there, whether you just liked his manhunt videos or speed runs or still defend the guy. I am not here to shame you or anything like that, if anything I understand the position your in right now. I don't feel comfortable completely shitting on dream stans because I've also been in a situation where I've idolized a content creator and defended them on every hill. It's hard to see someone for what they really are.

As a kid, from about 11 to 14 I watched skydoesminecraft, he was one of the first YouTubers I watched. It's sad to say it but I really looked up to the guy, he was one of the reasons I wanted to make videos as a kid or just be apart of the YouTuber sphere. In hindsight, I'm glad I wasn't remotely close to any of it. But watching someone I looked up to for years get exposed with damning proof, it was a while different level of disappointment.

So when I see dream stans still defend him, and especially those fans who are obviously kids or at least where younger when they watched him. It's hard for me not so show sympathy.

Who I can't feel any form of sympathy or empathy for is dream, he was a grown man then and he's even older grown man. He knows right from wrong but also knows that doing wrong gets more eyes on him than doing anything right.

Apart from deplatforming the guy, I think we all need to avoid giving him even a second of our attention. Especially since this guy has made it his whole brand to leech off other content creators to take the credit for himself.

As of now, the next stream of this idiots on the horizon. And while i can't tune in anyways because of work and personal stuff. I wouldn't even entertain watching it on his platform. Watch it through clips or reposts, someone's bound to repost it.

And to the many victims of dream over the years, we can really only give our condolences and show support to them. People like Tommy, Jack, Tubbo are just the more vocal individuals. Many people were hurt by this guy and we should all show our support to them, especially Caitibug.

And as I said in my last post about all of this, don't let George and sapnap off with a slap on the wrist for there part to play in this. Those two are equally, if not more guilty of horrible shit, don't let them get off Scott free. Especially George.

With all that being said, I'm gonna go back to working on this rewrite. In all honesty, the more and more I work on rewriting the server, the more I get this shitty taste in mouth about it. I plan on continuing on the Neo smp rewrite but it's gonna take longer. The trio is being written out all together, I also decided to keep this going as a passion project. I'll be posting an update on what I've been working on soon, a new character sheets and worldbuilding is coming soon.

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan’s Crash Course in Becoming Trump

After a long tour of duty in the Marvel universe, the Romanian-born actor is conquering the festival circuit, with starring roles in “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man.”

Illustration by João Fazenda

By Alex Barasch

The actor Sebastian Stan glanced approvingly at the neon signage and old-school menus at the Pearl Diner, in the financial district, the other day. He’s lived in and near New York since he was twelve—around the time Donald Trump swapped his first wife, Ivana, for Marla Maples—and has watched the city evolve. “It’s funny. It’s changed, but it’s also the same buildings,” he said. “And then you’re, like, ‘The buildings are there, but you are not the same.’ ”

Stan took off a white ball cap and ordered coffee with cream; he was jet-lagged, fresh from the Deauville American Film Festival, where he’d received the Hollywood Rising-Star Award. “Rising” is a stretch for the forty-two-year-old, who’s appeared in a dozen Marvel projects, but Stan has lately reached a different echelon. In May, he went to Cannes for “The Apprentice,” in which he plays seventies-era Trump. In Berlin, he’d won the Silver Bear, an award whose previous recipients include Denzel Washington and Paul Newman. “Everyone was, like, ‘Oh, the Silver Bear!’ ” Stan said. “Then you go back and you’re, like, ‘Do we know what the Silver Bear is in America?’ ”

The prize was for his role in “A Different Man,” Aaron Schimberg’s surreal black comedy, which nods to “Cyrano de Bergerac.” Stan stars as a man whose lifelong disfigurement is miraculously reversed; the shoot included a grisly three-and-a-half-hour session spent peeling off chunks of his face.

“The Apprentice” demanded a transformation of a different sort. At the diner, Stan pulled out his phone and swiped through an album labelled “DT physicality”—a hundred and thirty videos of Trump, which capture his tiniest gestures and his over-all mien. Marinating in Trump content was, Stan said cheerfully, “a psychotic experience.” He watched the clips so many times that when the director, Ali Abbasi, asked him to improvise in a scene about marketing Trump Tower, he could rattle off the stats: sixty-eight stories of marble in a peachy hue chosen by Ivana, because, as the real Trump put it in a promo, “people feel they look better in the pink.” (It turned out that he’d also memorized Trump’s lie: the tower is actually fifty-eight floors.)

Growing up in Communist Romania, Stan had just an hour of TV news each night; New Year’s Eve was an event because it meant twelve hours of programming. His instinct for mimicry—he had a habit of imitating family members and neighbors—was the earliest tell that he might be an actor. After he and his mother fled to Vienna, in 1989, Stan got his first credit, in a Michael Haneke film—an experience that nearly put him off show business. “I stood in line with, like, a thousand kids, for I don’t know how many hours—which I hated,” he said. “If I could fucking meet Haneke now, it would be amazing!”

When the family moved again, to America, he experienced pop-culture shock. He binged every movie he’d missed—from “Back to the Future” to “Ace Ventura”—in a pal’s basement. Another friend roped him into the school play. “My high school was really, really small, so I didn’t have a lot of competition,” Stan said. “They were, like, ‘Please be in the play!’ ” Soon he was playing Cyrano himself.

After stints on Broadway, and on “Gossip Girl,” Stan was scooped up by Marvel. “I’ve been lucky to play a character for fifteen years,” he said. The blockbuster paychecks freed him up to explore edgier material. “I, Tonya,” in which he played the ice-skater Tonya Harding’s dirtbag husband, was a turning point. “It allowed me to see that a good director will bring out more in you than you can,” Stan said. It was also his first time portraying a real person—a feat that he repeated in “Pam & Tommy,” as the Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee, and now in “The Apprentice.”

“It’s like learning a piece of music,” Stan said, of nailing an impression. “You’ve got to start out slow—it requires practice. Suddenly, you’re getting it more. You’re still making mistakes—but you’re playing the music. You’re playing the music every day until you can do it in your sleep. That’s when the fun starts.” He sliced the air for emphasis, then caught himself and grinned. “And sometimes it’s months later at a diner, and you’re, like, ‘Why am I doing that with my hands?’ ”

[persober]

everyone has already seen this comparison of new and old shots

in short, i'm upset that in this clip they didn't redraw the shots with Las Noches and Grimmjow

and now not briefly. I will not tire of repeating that Grimmjow is my favorite, the only man for whom my heart has been beating for many years

I watched the release of this video in a live broadcast and waited (obviously) for Grimmjow, so I have been carrying this thought for quite a long time. but as usual, I can only take a dick in the cheek and not even Grimmjow's, unfortunately. oh, this waiting for Grimmjow in life always and everywhere from year to year, I'm Hachiko, faithful to my precious man 🙏🏻😔 waiting for him in manga, anime, game, parcels with him, dreams with him, the appearance of a tulpa, I exist for this "waiting for Grimmjow"

in general, I was upset that he was not there, in that clip, but I would really like to see a redrawing of frames from past openings, where he would, for example, sit in an almost empty hall, surrounded only by Hallibel and Nell, after all, the guys are not strangers to Ichigo, how much he ran around their lands in his youth, oh

these moments are especially important for me, because as a child I rewatched this opening especially often, when Grimmjow is everything. their last fight thundered, and my cat was safely considered dead (but we all know that Taito resurrected him for me). (and I also re-watched the endings with him, but there he doesn’t walk so delightfully, swaying, and doesn’t look so sweetly at me through the screen, sitting at Aizen’s table) I turned it on again, and again, and again, and again, so that the special nostalgic role for me is played not so much by the first op, but by the sixth and seventh. it’s funny that it causes me genuine delight, a physical reaction in the form of goosebumps, screams, languid groans and clapping of hands both then and now. this is really what doesn’t change in my life

moreover, I really want content with him, really, but at the same time I’m very afraid of him, because each, so to speak, our new meeting is fucking stress for me. I worry every time to tears, screams and hysterics, because… I don't know why. I love him very much, and the feelings are too overwhelming when I see him or just hear his voice, the voice of the person who voices him, in other projects

that's why I'm sorry and not sorry at the same time that my wish did not come true. he deserves his star second, but at least I will live a day without a high temperature because of worries and screams because they showed him again. in fact, I'm glad that they showed his return in the anime, I dreamed about it so much, for years, but I don't expect a continuation now, because it's hard for me to perceive him

thanks for your attention, no one reads long posts, but it makes it easier for me

[majkuindelululand]

Some loose thoughts about fandom, brought to you by a migraine and a weather system that clearly hates me

my dash is full of opinions, mostly from the other side of the fence, trying to tell me what I should think if I want to call myself a "true ARMY."

Oh wow. I didn’t know there were rules. Damn, I must’ve missed the terms and conditions when I signed my 50-year soul contract with ARMY.

Oh wait. That’s right. There are no rules. My bad.

I keep seeing posts saying, “To be a real fan, you have to…” – and I just wanna laugh at anyone who thinks they can tell me what to do.

Yes, I’m ARMY. Yes, the only BTS merch I own is Jimin’s album, a Jimin Funko Pop, and Jimin photocards. Because guess what? I don’t hide who my favorite is. Now tell me – is that a crime?

No, seriously, did I miss something? I didn’t sign up for any cult, I wasn’t handed a uniform or a manual, but somehow, if I express a different opinion online, I’m bad and not real. Excuse me? What am I, Pinocchio? Trying to be a real fan?

But God forbid you say you don’t vibe with someone – suddenly you're not true enough.

Let me tell you a little secret. BTS is a band. Yep. Shocking, I know – but they’re still musicians. I don’t have to endorse the drug habits of The Rolling Stones to go weak in the knees listening to their records. And guess what? I can buy their music without needing to sign off on their moral life choices.

Same goes for BTS. I don’t have to like every single one of them or worship the ground they walk on like I’m sullying their divine aura just by breathing the same planetary air.

Let’s be honest: I don’t have to love all of them equally to be a fan of their work. I watch their content. I consume their music – I even dream-consume it. That’s what they’re on stage for. That’s why Jungkook spent his teen years sweating it out in a practice room – so I could listen to his music, not so I could fake-simp for every member equally like it’s a group project in hell.

And the fact that I personally don’t enjoy Kim Taehyung’s non-music content does not mean I hate him. It does not mean I’m sending him death threats written in mosquito blood to the BigHit address.

It just means… I don’t like his content. That’s it.

And I’m not the reason there’s hate around him. Just like people who don’t vibe with Jimin and skip his content aren’t automatically contributing to Jimin hate.

You know who is? The people who don’t just share personal reactions or opinions – they build entire narratives on lies and slander.

Same goes for Tae.

A huge part of this fandom struggles to tell the difference between criticism, personal opinion, and hate. And an even bigger part can’t separate an opinion from a lie someone repeated so often they believed it.

Let me demonstrate:

Random internet person #1: “Ew, JK hates him! Look! He’s uncomfortable! That Pigmin is being pushy and about to cry again!” Random internet person #2: “Huh. JK looked kinda uncomfortable in this clip. Jimin came off a bit strong to me.”

Feel the difference?

The internet has its own rules, and I get that. I’m old. I have a kid. I’m not new here. But the same internet cannot pretend to be a space for BTS discussion while censoring BTS discussion.

And yes – discussion includes critique, disagreement, and yes, even debate. We don’t have to agree. The problem is, the bigger the fandom, the louder you have to shout to be heard. And sadly, the loudest voices are always the ones yelling in absolutes and preaching "revealed truths."

And let’s not even start on the veiled hate. Because honestly? That often comes from the very fact that people aren’t allowed to talk openly. If people had more space to express themselves without being instantly labeled or shamed, maybe there’d be more calm, respectful conversations. …okay, fine. I’m an idealist. But not an idiot.

Anyway. Let’s get back to it.

This fandom doesn’t just struggle with the “criticism vs hate” line – it also seems to genuinely believe there’s only one correct way to be a fan. And if I hear one more rant about “evil solos,” my head might actually explode.

Seriously – it’s the same crap from every side.

What, now it’s wrong to say you like someone more than the others? Or that you like someone less, like I do?

Or are you basing your entire worldview on the few loud solo stans who do cross the line into hate – and then using that to paint all solo fans with the same brush?

Because that narrative is what convinces people that being a solo fan is a problem – something shameful. And that pressure is what makes people pretend to be OT7 even when they’re not. And that – guess what – only feeds the spiral of hate, as we keep spinning through half-truths, lies, and vague assumptions all because someone’s scared of what strangers on the internet might think.

See where I’m going with this?

Please, let’s normalize talking about our preferences – here and everywhere. Because pretending to like everything and everyone equally, just to avoid drama, is dumb.

That’s how you end up in a cult inside a cult inside a cult, and well… History’s taught us where that leads.

And just for the record: The internet doesn’t end. Domains are infinite. Emails are eternal. If you get mass-reported or flamed into oblivion, there’s always another account.

The world won’t stop turning.

[atiny-for-life]

Creative Spotlight #7: Jung Wooyoung

Masterlist

Intro: With so many new Atinys coming in, I figured now would be a good time to shed some light on all the boys' creative solo projects over the years, big and small.

Muk Wooyoung

Like the others, Wooyoung got his own YouTube series in 2020 and his revolves around cooking and runs under the name Muk Wooyoung:

And yes, Episode 1 gloriously features Wooyoung's mom via phone call and her sense of humor is 100% where Wooyoung gets his own from, I'm sure.

In Episode 2, he already gets to meet the owner of Dooreyoo restaurant who invites him back into the kitchen and teaches him basic knife etiquette and more he'll need to know so he can get licensed as a cook:

In Episode 3, he got an apron with his name embroidered in golden letters...

And he had the professional chef Oh Se Deuk as a guest who low-key clowns on the chef from the former episode every now and again (hilarious) while they cooked together (it's very sweet and wholesome):

In Episode 5, Wooyoung even got sponsors (which is good because this is from the same episode he knocked the glass off the counter):

His skills got tested on Yeosang's fried chicken cook-off episode but it was a 3v3 and the weight of Hongjoong and San's lack of cooking skills lowkey dragged him down (Hongjoong was genuinely trying his best but has zero inherent instincts, while San was doing everything except for cooking, including singing and flirting with Yeosang):

His most recent venture into cooking was, accompanied by Hongjoong and Yunho, in shootbro EP02 where his cooking skills were praised by everyone in attendance.

Our Side of the Story (O.S.O.S.)

Recently regaining popularity is also Wooyoung's Logbook competitor Our Side of the Story.

The series kicked off in 2021 under the name "WooRi vlog", presumably word play on the Korean word for "our" (uri), before it transitioned to Our Side of the Story (O.S.O.S) on Episode 5:

Episode 1 started with Yunho and Hongjoong who'd promised Wooyoung they'd open his series for him (cute). The entire episode, Wooyoung solely communicates through hand signals and commentary in the subtitles, including sponsorship requests:

We also get the captain's official endorsement:

And a thorough roast of poor San:

Episode 2 is a lovely black and white montage to the instrumental version of "Thanks" where we get to see the world through Wooyoung's eyes (spoiler alert: it's a lot of Seonghwa, San, and Yunho being goofy).

Episode 3 features a puppy named Meonji and the lovely hair and make up team who's visibly trying to remain professional and not crack up at Wooyoung and Seonghwa's antics.

Bonus: Trust Wooyoung to always be real with us in the on screen comments:

Episode 4 features another puppy! I'm pretty sure it's the same one we get to see on Xikers' Instagram and in Maddox's vlogs sometimes so I assume someone in the production team adopted this precious baby.

Highlight of the episode is, as always, one of Wooyoung's on screen comments:

In Episode 5, we get our first official O.S.O.S. episode which includes the whole creation story behind the new name (spoiler alert: it was a Topaz collaborated effort):

Throughout the video, Wooyoung uses a clip of Yunho tuck-jumping as a transition method which is funny af:

And it features this iconic Hongjoong quote:

And Wooyoung's follow up comment:

For anyone who's ever called watching Ateez content a hobby, here are Wooyoung's thoughts on that btw:

The entire episode is full of everyone making a fool of themselves to make Wooyoung laugh and it's genuinely so sweet and wholesome.

We also get Jongho's first proper appearance with Wooyoung calling Jongho out for never showing up before to which Jongho's like "It's not my fault! The cameraman never approaches me!", only for Wooyoung to have the last word via on screen comment:

More Topaz cuteness via Wooyoung's commentary:

Featuring Hongjoong turning the tables by being annoying (give the man more plushies - they bring out the child in him):

Episode 6 is another pretty edit featuring Seonghwa, San, Yunho and more dogs at a campsite for a photoshoot:

Episode 7 is extremely ambitious and documents their entire journey of the Fellowship: Beginning of the End in Seoul tour while Episode 8 is a pretty montage of Wooyoung's time in LA back in 2022 set to an instrumental track produced by Hongjoong.

Episode 9 is the most recent one, only released 4 months ago so you've probably seen it, even if you're a newer Atiny!

Song Cover

Last year, Wooyoung released his first solo cover on the Ateez channel with Hongjoong's help.

Etham's 12:45 suits his voice incredibly well. It kicks off sweet and soft, highlighting his genuinely really good pronunciation, and crescendos near the end with a gorgeous high note and drums.

Shot around the time of Paradigm and Halazia, his hair is red and stands out nicely against the nighttime skyline. He did a wonderful job.

Dancing

Last year, Wooyoung collaborated with Watcha to release a passion project:

It's an original choreography to the song 1-800-273-8255 by Logic. The title is the number for the suicide prevention hotline and the lyrics deal with the singer's severe mental health struggles and journey to wanting to live again after a long time of struggling with suicidal thoughts.

The choreo is stunning and features sign language to convey the message Wooyoung took from the song. This video is also a part of a bigger documentary which Wooyoung was a part of together with other young artists. I personally can't access the full thing on the official website due to geo-restrictions, but you can find clips on YouTube.

In June 2021, Wooyoung was also voted Artist of the Month by Studio Choom, which gave us this absolutely iconic performance to the song Bad by Christopher which he also performed live on one special occasion.

In the making of, we get to see how hard he worked on this choreo, saying he's showing off "restrained sexiness" and "clean moves" - what a legend. Helping him in the practice room were two members of BBtrippin, the mastermind dance crew behind so many of Ateez's choreos.

Fashion

After already being present in Paris during fashion week in 2023 (to spend time with his brother and Hongjoong), Wooyoung made an appearance at the Courrèges fashion show this year, attending as a guest in a piece from their new collection.

Wooyoung shared pictures on his personal Instagram account and his appearance was also reported on by Teen Vogue and other outlets.

On October 17th, 2024, the Behind the Scenes to his appearance was released in which we get to see him prepare for the event, meet the designer (whom he gave one of their albums) and report back to us after on how much fun he had:

[macaronbunnies]

https://www.tumblr.com/macaronbunnies/785236012642271232/pls-anyone-send-me-sum-asks-it-doesnt-have-to-be?source=share

This is a stupid long ask about my favorite rpf ships that probably no one cares about I've like only met one soad proshipper

anyway!!!!!

my favorite ships of all time are probably all rpf tbh. From the same band, too. Serj x Daron, Shavo x Daron, John x Shavo. They're from System of a Down and I swear they're all made for each other (maybe not John cuz he's homophobic but fuck it we ball I'll make him gay RIDE ME PLEASE what) I love watching silly little clips of them, especially that one where John randomly grabs Shavo by his stomach with one arm and throws him onto the floor and then Daron jumps in. It's sad that there's not many fics of them, although the artwork is insanely good <333... ILY SOAD SHIPPERS!1!1!2!2!1! Another clip I like is one that I've only seen in one compilation of Daron saying "I love you, Serj" into the microphone. Its probably a clip from a show in the 90's due to the poor ass quality. But either way, it's awesome sauce..... Let's go homosexuals. My fav Shavo x Daron moment is during an interview where Daron randomly licks his bald head...... I also love to see Shavo match his energy during the older shows while they were all on drugs or whatever. I also found a kerrang magazine with some good ass shit in it.

1) I love the gag that they personally have where Shavo's always late. It's so cute

2) this speaks for itself. Also it isn't cut off at the end because these are from discord and just general interesting things I found in the magazine.

3) SO REAL 100% NOT DARON X ANYBODY PROPAGANDA ("on the cheek" was erased. still homo if you try hard enough)

My god I have so many saved clips and videos and artwork and fanfics and anything that talks about any soad ship. I don't wanna put it into this ask cuz, well, it's fanart. My own art of them are just doodles and I haven't been pleased with my art styles so.. yuh. Any soad shippers/proshippers hmu I'll treat you to toxic derj fanfics trust

Also i headcanon shavo as a transgender man and draw him with scars. just wanted to throw that out there.

I'll probably reply to the post with this ask answered with some timestamps and video links of what I was talking about with some yummy extraa

HOLY YAP but thats great i love reading long things!! i hope you will find other soad proships that you can talk about your ships with!! i dont listen to soad but these people really sound gay tbh..OH ALSO I ALLOW EVERY FANART IN MY ASKS i love art!! even when you think its ugly what matters is that you put effort to it! C: thank you for speaking your truth i wish you a very great day and i hope your otp gets more content (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

[brainddeadd]

Carpool Confessions

You and Trevor Zegras had fallen into an easy routine. Living in the same building made it convenient, and carpooling to work together seemed like a no-brainer. He was always fun to be around, and as the social media manager for the Anaheim Ducks, you were at every game and team event, which meant seeing Trevor constantly.

"Morning, superstar," you greeted him one Tuesday morning as he slipped into the passenger seat of your car, his familiar smile already making your day a little brighter.

"Morning, boss lady," he shot back, tossing his gym bag into the backseat. The banter between you two was always effortless, filled with teasing nicknames and playful jabs. It made the drives to the arena feel quick, like a mini escape before the craziness of the day kicked in.

You had become friends quickly—too quickly, maybe. There was this underlying tension between you two, something neither of you dared to address. It didn’t help that his teammates and your co-workers were constantly throwing fuel on the fire, insisting that you two were dating. You'd laugh it off every time, but deep down, the teasing hit a nerve.

Because what if they were right? What if there was something between you and Trevor, something more than just shared car rides and friendly banter?

"Hey, what’s up with the guys today?" Trevor asked as you pulled into the arena parking lot. He shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Troy was giving me a hard time in the locker room again. Said something about us being 'couple goals.'"

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Please. My co-workers are convinced, too. They won’t stop with the 'Oh, are you two finally dating?' comments."

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess they don’t know we’re just friends, huh?"

"Right," you agreed quickly, but the word “just” lingered in the air, feeling more loaded than it should have.

You glanced over at Trevor, who seemed focused on getting his gear from the backseat, and you couldn’t help but wonder. What if you weren't just friends? What if you told him how you really felt? But then, what if he didn’t feel the same? The thought made your stomach twist.

Inside the arena, the day unfolded as usual—posting highlights, setting up social media interviews, capturing behind-the-scenes moments. Trevor, as always, made your job easy. His charm was a magnet for fans, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him goof off with the camera during media sessions.

At one point, while you were busy editing some clips, Trevor strolled over, resting his forearms on the back of your chair.

"So, what time are we heading out tonight?" he asked casually, as if it were already a given that you’d be going home together.

You smiled at his assumption. "Probably after I finish up with the post-game content. You?"

"Same. Gotta get some dinner after, though. You coming?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Zegras?" you teased, not quite sure if you were joking.

He chuckled, but the look in his eyes was unreadable. "You’d know if I was, wouldn’t you?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The room around you seemed to fade away, and it felt like this was it—the moment that had been building between you two for months. But before you could say anything, someone from the staff interrupted, pulling you back into the chaos of work.

Later that evening, after the game, you and Trevor drove home in comfortable silence, the glow of the streetlights flickering across his face as he watched the city blur by.

"You know," Trevor started, his voice softer now, almost tentative, "it’s kind of funny how everyone thinks we’re dating."

You glanced over at him, your heart racing. "Yeah, funny."

He paused, his grip tightening on the armrest slightly. "But, like… would it be that crazy?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"If we were dating." His voice was quiet now, but the seriousness in his tone made your breath hitch. "I mean, everyone already thinks we are. We spend a lot of time together. We get along better than anyone I know. So… would it really be that crazy?"

You felt your pulse quicken, your throat tightening with nerves. "Trevor, are you saying—"

"I’m saying maybe we should stop pretending we don’t feel something." He finally turned to look at you, his eyes soft but determined. "Because I do. I like you—a lot. And I don’t want to keep denying it because I’m too scared of what you might say."

You stared at him, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults, and your heart felt like it was about to burst. This was it. The confession you didn’t think would ever happen.

"Trevor, I…" You hesitated for a moment, but then you saw the hopeful look in his eyes, and you knew you couldn’t lie to him—or yourself. "I feel the same way."

His face broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen, and before you knew it, he was reaching across the console, pulling you into a tight embrace. It felt like months of tension melted away in that moment, all the uncertainty and second-guessing vanishing with a single touch.

"So," he said, his voice full of warmth, "can I officially call you my girlfriend now? Because I think our friends are gonna lose it."

You laughed, your heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "I think we’ve made them wait long enough."

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Vivarium Martin Drabble: Changing his mind on trapping you

Ok so fun fact he is played by the actor who plays Anderson in BBC Sherlock, and he has that neurodiverse rizz so. If you don’t know him but would like to, I highly highly recommend you watch the movie. If you don’t mind spoilers and want to read this now go watch this clip of him!! He’s so cute like-

Content/Warnings: Gender neutral Reader, Height difference, Spoilers for the movie

Martin was good enough at being human, at least his understanding of their behavior was sufficient to lure couples like the Thompsons into their assigned housing units. It was important to coax them into a house viewing, it took practice to say the right words and often enough the humans had left beforehand, promising they would come back another time. He had smiled, drumming his fingers on the desk in anticipation of their visit but found himself confused when they didn’t return. Why didn’t they return?

The quicker they agreed to come along and view the house the better it was, he found. Because he didn’t spend much time with them, but it was apparently enough for them to start finding him ‚off putting‘. He heard them well enough when they went to look at the back yard, and that phrase was like an echo to him like the seemingly indistinguishable houses all around them. Off putting. Off was wrong, wasn’t it? ‚Your sock is off Martin‘. ‚Fuck off kiddo‘. ‚She ran off.‘

He doesn’t have a deep understanding of the things they said to him back then, they talk differently from his species. But they have the same facial structure and that makes him understand what it meant when they furrowed their brows at him. Or when they grimaced and shouted.

Martin tries to do his job right and he feels like he is getting better at it. Being a Salesman seems to work better than being perceived as a person, they accept it much more than citizen-him when he closes the shop. Every shop closes at some hour so they have to do that too.

Never before since he took over the office did only one person come in. They always came in two. Yet there you came in without a partner who looked with you.

You looked around a bit, he watched you from his seat for a moment longer than he usually did before approaching the clients. You were young and you didn’t wear a ring. Most who came here wore a ring in different variations, but always on the same finger. Your hands were empty though except for a shopping bag.

„Hello!“ He exclaimed after a few moments and stood up to walk around the desk. Your head turned to meet his eyes and you replied with a enthusiastic hello of your own. Your pupils widened, he recalled possible reasons for this in his head such as benign episodic unilateral mydriasis, migraines or attraction.

„Do you have a migraine?“ You slightly tilted your head to the side and raised your brows in wonder, „No, but the heat outside might honestly work up to one. Do you?“ You answered, to which he nodded thoughtfully. „No.“ He seamlessly transitioned to offer you his hand for a handshake, „Lovely to meet you!“ You laughed and took his hand, „Lovely to meet you too, I‘m Y/n.“ He noticed how easily his hand engulfed yours. You were a shorter one. At least much shorter than him.

You squinted your eyes when you laughed and slightly opened your lips. Unlike other animals this was the opposite of a threat in humans, smiling so broadly that the other person could see their teeth was a sign of real friendliness.

Martin introduced himself as well. He used the last name of the family who fostered him, Bailey. His Nametag didn’t say so, but he liked to introduce himself as such regardless.

„This neighborhood is really something special, we already sold most of the houses to some lovely couples.“ He recited. „We are hoping to build a strong diverse community.“

You approached one of the miniature houses, you didn’t have to bend down as much to look into them. There was something hard to read in the way you looked at it. It was one emotion distilled clearly into this moment, one that he had seen before, but blurred by other things. This thing his parents had in their eyes when they said they wanted to go home. But you did not look sad or angry. Just that.. third thing, that he couldn’t name.

He came to stand next to you and eyed the miniature. „I grew up in a home like this.“ He went to houses like the one he was fostered a lot but it was not his. It started to drizzle outside, the humid air tearing from the rain. He didn’t know why he told you that. You looked up to him again. „You grew up in a house from this company?“ Well, that was technically correct. What you didn’t know was that it was this exact setup too in front of you, because nothing ever really differed from the design. „Yes.“ You hummed and looked at the miniature again. „Was it nice?“ Was it nice? He wanted to repeat but managed to hold it back. When he was in the presence of humans it was hard not to do it.

„I don’t know.“ He said truthfully, for once, because neither did he know what would be appropriate to answer to specifics about his personal experience nor did he even really know what he felt about it to begin with. When he took over this office he looked up human data on the word as well, the variety of definitions were confusing but nonetheless enlightening. Because Hotels were also supposed to make you feel ‚at home‘ even though you didn’t permanently lived there. Apparently it was about being welcomed and being around like minded people. He did not have that experience there, so did Home still qualify for it?

„I understand. It’s not as easy as perfect or awful, a home is always kinda both.“ You said and nodded at him. Martin blinked. He didn’t even have to scramble for words to explain it any better, you seemingly understood what he meant just like that.

His species mimicked their words and behavior, but expressions were something that he genuinely seemed to share with them in a way. It was clumsy and sometimes less attuned, but it overlapped to an extent were it wasn’t just mimicry. So he felt a smile further tug at his salesperson-friendly-welcoming-human-attitude, something from inside, when you send him an understanding smile.

Your eyes caught sight of the rain, and turned slightly to look outside. It was really starting to pour now. „Oh finally, look how lovely.“ You exhaled with relief. „The rain is lovely?“ He asked, because when someone came in while it rained they would usually very verbally complain about it. They didn’t like to get wet except for cleaning.

„Yes! It makes everything much cozier, and it smells so flowery in the spring.“ You explained. „I used to work in a small shop like this too, not real estate, but it was always nice when we had a rainy day. It gives you more privacy, you can make yourself a coffee and just watch people walk past.“ He watched you intently as you talked about it, it seemed to be something that makes you happy. „You used to work in a small shop like this too.“ He repeated, „We have that in common.“ He noticed, because truly everything else about him wasn’t alike anyone, it was just copied off everyone- except this thing right here. „That’s true.“ You said, and you didn’t even seem weirded out by the way he recited your words.

Martin found it interesting that you also watched people go by. He knew why he did it, but he didn’t know why actual humans wanted to observe each other. Yet there you were, also observing him back when you looked back up at him. „What do you like to do on the job?“ You wanted to know, and it felt like you were more on a common place now. Because you weren’t asking the representative of this company in front of you, you asked Martin the Person who was also in sales like you.

He genuinely needed to think about that. „I like learning new things about people.“ New phrases, new gestures, it was exciting. He especially appreciated this thing he saw the other day, where two people walked and they unnecessarily entangled their arms with each other. Why did they do it if it meant that they could only use one arm now? It was funny. „Thats true, coming by so many different customers every day is really interesting!“

He looked outside as well now, hearing the rain drum against the glass. The clouds darkened the sky so much that the contrast to the light inside became stronger. It never rained where he grew up, there was no weather at all. Seeing Humans enjoy different kinds of weather was unknown to him. „We could drive to Yonder right now if you’d like! It’s only half an hour drive away.” He offered now, eyeing you from the side. “Do you have a car?” You shook your head, “I don’t have a car, would you mind if I come along in yours?” “Certainly, let me get my keys.” He went to the back for a moment and you took out a small umbrella from your bag. When he came back he really only got his keys, no bag, no jacket or umbrella of his own. When you both stepped outside you unfolded the umbrella while he locked the door, turning a sign that said that he’d be right back.

Then Martin found himself in yet another unexpected moment, because you shuffled close to him and held the umbrella over both of your heads. He blinked down at you, you were ducking your head towards him so you wouldn’t get hit by the rain. The umbrella was quite small and probably only meant to fit one person, but you tried to make it fit anyway. You were trying to protect him from the rain too? “Ok, lead the way.” You said, and smiled up at him.

Martin didn’t say anything as he was still surprised by this gesture, and first he walked way too fast, but as you paced up as well he understood that he needed to be patient and match your smaller steps. He curiously looked at you from the corner of his eye, your arms were touching. When you stood so close it was even more obvious that you were shorter than him, you even struggled to extend your arm to make sure you didn’t accidentally hit his head. And then you.. did that thing, your hand came up to gently loop itself under his arm, holding onto him. “May I?” You asked, making sure he was comfortable with you getting a bit closer in the moment. It was.. restricting, but somehow comfortable? Like the compression of a hug but on a smaller scale.

He smiled slightly and nodded yes, eyes flickering to your hand on his lower arm for a moment. He felt your warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt, it was strong against the cold from the rain. “May I?” He repeated now, offering to the take the umbrella from you and you nodded with a smile. Martin took the handle from you, hands slightly brushing against each other as he did so.

You walked like that together for a while until you reached the car. He opened the door for you to get in before going around, quickly figuring out how to close this thing before getting into the driver’s seat next to you. When he looked over you were smiling, looking out of the front window at the rain. „We should listen to some music.“ You said, „Let’s turn on the radio!“

He obliged, this one took more calibrating, but eventually some tunes came out as the engine came to life and he exited the parking spot. It was a soft melody, and you seemed to recognize it because you started to sing along the words. Martin hummed along, trying to mimic the melody as well, because he didn’t know how to sing. You drove through the street and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way you were both mimicking the music. And you smiled widely and glanced at him while doing it, squinting your eyes once more in this disarming way.

He never thought he could do these things with a human.

You kept on listening to music for a while, traffic was holding you up quite a bit. You yawned a bit and snuggled yourself further into your coat, but to no effect. The cold from outside was still crawling into the car the longer the traffic jam continued. You closed your eyes and laid your head back. „I hope I‘ll like it there. I hope there are people I can sing in cars with too.“ You said, just like it was a sidenote, but it made Martin look at your tired form. He didn’t really know how this made him feel. But the fact that there was something he felt about it to begin with was making him insecure in a way. You yawned again without opening your eyes, „When we drive back you gotta show me the music you like too.“

He gripped the steering wheel harder. You were so casually.. everything that he never had before. Humans were cautious not to show that they didn’t care, he was mostly being tolerated to some extent by every one of them up to now. He was only aware of a lacking because he saw them interact with one another, how much more authenticity there was to their relationships. How did everything you said to him feel so fully different from the way they interacted with him before?

Martin didn’t do anything different, no matter how hard he tried to discern the reason why someone would actually like him now this time. He had only told you something about him, the fact that he grew up in a house like that, because you were also candid towards him. You evoked him to differ from the script, but was it all that more significant than what he did before?

He didn’t say anything for a while and neither did you, and at some point he found that you had fallen asleep. Martin glanced over at you and blinked, his eyes then drifted to the backseat. If he remembered correctly.. and he most certainly did then- he pulled a blanket out of the stuff that was crammed in the back from the previous owners of this car. When he stopped at a red light he carefully placed it over you. It would help with the cold. During sleeping periods the body temperature of humans became even lower and you already seemed to be shivering before.

He remembered how his foster parents tucked him in even though it wasn’t cold there. It was neither particularly warm or cold, there was no weather to shelter from but they insisted to do that with him and themselves as well. It was one of the many rituals they participated in even though there was no outlying reason for it. So he did this to you as well, and he was careful to put the fluffy fabric over your shoulder so it wouldn’t fall. You let put a small sigh but did not awake, and his eyes flickered over your face. You looked.. nice. You looked as nice as you were as a person.

Martin turned towards the steering wheel again and drove further, but when he saw the sign for Yonder he stopped the car. He did not enter the neighborhood.

He didn’t want you too live and die in there, never to be seen again. He didn’t want to drive someone else to the house that you had died in. He wanted to drive back with you now and show you the music he liked like you said.

And he let you go, would he be able to see you again at all?

He heard shuffling from the blanket and looked to the side, seeing how you sleepily opened your eyes again. When you caught sight of him you smiled, even though there was no social prompt for you to do so. You just did. „I fell asleep goodness..“ you mumbled and straightened yourself again. „Are we there?“

Martin looked at you, his eyebrow twitched and he breathed in before closing his mouth for another moment. „Yes. But. I was called just now which is why I stopped the car. And the agency informed me that another real estate agent has just sold the house that I was going to show you. And unfortunately the other ones are already reserved.“

You slightly weighed your head to the side, „Oh.“ you slightly bit your lip, disappointed. „Well, I was too slow then I guess. But.. well this was still fun enough don’t you think?“ He raised his brows, you chuckled. „Singing along to music with someone I just met and taking a nap in a real estate’s company’s car isn’t an ordinary experience, I like it.“ You explained, amused despite the rejection of a viewing.

Martin couldn’t help but smile himself too. The way you were, how you acted and spoke and were so forward and positive towards the things around you was something he didn’t want to disappear and be covered up by the trap that was this neighborhood. It was something he wanted to be around more, not just observing but partaking in as a person. Because you saw him as such.

The rain drummed loudly on the windshield. He swallowed as there were no specifics for him on what he was trying to say now. „Would you like to drink coffee and watch people together when we come back?“

Your smile grew wider. „Yes! I‘d love to.“

I hope you liked it! Idk if this will get any notes or comments because thats one if the mist niche characters I‘ve ever written for but I still really wanted to write this. I‘m so endeared with this guy