#it seems like he's been auditioning a bit again though

[pynkhues]

Wait, do you really think Manny has been blacklisted? The industry is so confusing and I have no idea how it works. Would love to hear more of your perspective. If he did such a shame because he did seem cringe but definitely talented nonetheless,  like he brought so much energy to Rio more so in the early seasons than the later ones, but yeah, it also can be due to his tattoos and no shade hairline 😭 literally not to be mean but just my opinion what do you think?

(x)

Anon, your 'no shade hairline' has me in tears, lmao.

But yeah, I mean, I don't necessarily think he's been blacklisted, but given Retta openly blamed him for the show's cancellation in an interview, I can't even imagine the conversations that have happened behind closed doors. I do think he's probably pissed a lot of people off, and Jenna came up under Shonda who has a bit of a reputation mm - - not for blacklisting actors per se, but not for not blacklisting them either (like, gosh, look at what happened with Katherine Heigl). The fact that Netflix was taking the show from NBCU as well for that final season means that a lot of people would've done a lot of work in order to get it to that point, and for it to fall apart like that at the finish line can be frustrating across the board.

The most telling thing for me is that Manny had been working really steadily across network TV for years prior to the cancellation, particularly with FOX, and the fact that he hasn't booked a single network show since outside of that tiny part on a CW show that his friend worked on is pretty glaring. A lot of the actors had a similar history with network television, but putting the girls aside, it's maybe easiest to compare it to Reno. Reno has a longer, but similar history on network tv to Manny, and since the show ended, he's booked a Fox pilot, a five episode arc on another NBCU show, and now has shifted to streamers with back-to-back roles on Paramount+, the first a supporting role in Fatal Attraction, and now as one of the leads on Dexter: Original Sin.

Given Manny's career prior to the show, I would've expected him to end up on a similar trajectory. Like having a five ep arc on something like S.W.A.T before maybe booking a pilot and then finding himself a lead on a streaming show of some description, but he hasn't done a network show at all. He did book some arcs on cable shows, and obviously Disney+ is a significant streamer (although we still don't even know how big his role is on Ironheart), so I don't know. Maybe he just didn't want to do network TV for a while, but given he literally hasn't booked a TV job now since 2022 (which is when Retta publicly talked about it, and again, I think that that's an indication of a lot more talk happening out of the media), and he'd previously spent 15 years working very consistently on shows across Fox, ABC, CBS and NBC - - yeah.

I think at the very least there are some burnt bridges there.

I don't think the tattoos or the hairline helped though.

[sooniebby]

The idea of a singer being a stalker instead of them being stalked is something that needs to explored more. Bonus, if the person being stalked isn’t particularly scared about it.

More specifically, the stalker being the reader. Bottom male reader.

A reader who’s always been watching his classmate since junior high school (middle school). The classmate wasn’t anyone special to others, average grades with average looks.

But you didn’t mind, him being average meant you didn’t have to fight for his attention. It was small things, just paying attention to his favorite foods and leaving them in his shoe locker.

Then slowly it blossomed. You made sure he got home safe. You found out what cram school he visited and made sure to leave snacks for him, can’t study on an empty stomach!

Increasingly, you noticed he began to get a bit paranoid, always looking behind himself. But he never made any effort to report you to the police or anything. Even when his friend suggested it at first, he practically shot it down fast.

However, after graduating to senior high school, you soon realized he wasn’t paranoid over you. He was getting bullied.

It didn’t take you long to handle it. Despite being a loner and a bit on the shorter side compared to the bully. There’s nothing a bully can do against castration. It’s quite easy to incapacitate someone who drinks a lot.

After, you expected him to act the same. And while he did—you noticed that he would look over at you in class. The first time it happened you practically had a panic attack and ran out of the classroom. He’s never looked at you at all despite the two of your being in the same class for four years straight.

You briefly wondered if he knew. Certainly acting like that would’ve confirmed his suspicions.

Luckily for you—he seemed to never look your way again. You’d know, you spend most of the day staring at him. When you finally graduated, you couldn’t be happy at all.

You’d failed to get into the university he applied to. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to school. You were about to just come up with a back up plan when your sister said she wanted to go somewhere with you.

Just your luck, she tricked you in attending an audition at a music competition. You and her used to sing a lot as kids but you had stopped to focus on him. Of course, the devil was out to get you when you both managed to last until the final round.

Privacy wasn’t a thing for you after that. Your sister persuaded you to get signed at a company. Your parents as well since you technically had nothing else going for you—you did fail the exam for each college you tried at. (That was a lie, you had only applied to one)

Before you didn’t need to dress up to stalk him. You were pretty average as well—but now people recognized you. Especially because the company loved to advertise you as a “emo boy.” You took offense to that—just wearing black didn’t make you an emo.

But in any case, you had to start wearing clothes you wouldn’t be caught dead in. Watching him was harder this time… because he was surprising popular at his university. Everyone talked to him more often and invited him to hang out.

You didn’t understand, he didn’t change how he looked. In any case, you thought he was handsome first. You had dibs. It was getting increasingly difficult to just standby as men and women flirted with him.

Then your worst nightmare happened—he had a date. You stalked it, of course. Dressed in a bright pink shirt with white pants. Hair styled nicely compared to the mess you usually kept it. People really didn’t recognize you when you actually put effort into your looks.

You played with your knife as you watched them chat at the table across from you. The blade was too dull for your liking. Though you had only really used it to castrate that guy. And maybe… to scare off a few people in high school… but you’d never kill—seemed pointless.

As the date finally ended, you were pleased to see him turn down the girl’s offer to come to her place. You watched in satisfaction as she walked away dejectedly. She’s a pretty girl, she’ll find someone else.

You were too busy watching that you hadn’t even noticed someone behind you.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Your body froze. You couldn’t move at all. A laugh left him as he tapped your shoulder.

“Are you going to run away again? I didn’t think you’d still stalk me after becoming a singer. You’re…”

You expected him to cuss you out but to your shock he said.

“Dedicated. Really dedicated. It’s cute.”

“A…what?” You whispered, slowly turning around to face him.

He was smiling at you. Smiling as if he was talking to a friend and not his stalker for over seven years. Was he insane?

Well you weren’t one to talk.

“Cute. I’m glad you didn’t run away this time. Here, gimme your LINE ID.” He said, pulling out his phone. You could only stare at him as he waved his phone. “C’mon, I’m speaking Japanese, yeah?”

“I… wait… are you—? Don’t you know I’ve been stalking you for almost eight years?”

“Mhm.”

“And that I almost followed you to your university? It wasn’t even a university I wanted to go, i don’t even know what I wanted, only if it had you.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you listening to me? I castrated a guy for you.”

“So that’s what you did… he wouldn’t tell me what happened at all,” he muttered, effectively ignoring everything else you did.

“….I followed you on a date, why aren’t you…” you couldn’t help yourself and grabbed his shirt, shaking him a bit. “This can’t be real. Why aren’t you scared?”

“You’re telling me things I already know.” He gazed down at you, his hand reached up and grasped the back of your head. “Why would I be scared if I liked it all?”

You blinked just as he kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his lips.

“You’ve watched me for this long,” he whispered, his hand slowly reaching down to grab your chin as he forced you to look up at him.

“But didn’t seem to notice that I was watching you too, (Name)-Chan.”

I’m bored so I made this longer than necessary. I always thought the idea of someone always having known they’re being stalked—making it easier for their stalker to learn stuff about them. That’s what he’s implying, btw. He didn’t stalk you, he just always noticed when you were watching him.

Reader isn’t a reliable narrator.

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @remdayz @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @cherry-blossoms-187 @smellwell @euthymiko @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @secretivemessenger @mooncarvers-world @bensontrechic @yuzuukix @anchoredphoenix @roi-henri-xxii @m00n-b4b3 @ning1e

[pb-n-jen]

THE yellowjackets cast panel debrief

okay, guys, so I JUST got home, here's everything I can remember from the panel! I have a few videos too, but I'll try and post those tomorrow bc I have to lock in for my final after this ☹️

first of all they all looked BEAUTIFUL and all three of them were in like six inch heels like bad bitches

the mod asked a bunch of questions about how they got cast in the first place etc. which was cute

sammi talked abt how she was originally called in for nat and that she wore black lipstick to the audition LOL

she ended this conversation by saying 'anyways i love you sophie thatcher' .... don't we all

melanie is SO sweet every time they would talk abt all the crazy shit shauna's been doing in the adult tl there would be a pause and we'd all look at melanie and she'd be sitting there like 😇

they were talking about the funerals/death parties for the teen tl and the mod asked melanie and christina if they did anything like that for the adult tl deaths and they were talking about how they literally have to film scenes sometimes and then fly home to their kids and melanie was like 'yeah one time i literally got onto the plane with fake blood still on my face'

basically steven kreuger is everyone's fav cast member bc when they got ask whose death shocked them the most/they were saddest about they all said him 😭

they also hope he'll come back to haunt someone next season (nat or misty) so they can have more scenes with him

per the above point melanie said that alexa told her that mari was pit girl when they were walking in to sammi's baby shower so she just walked into the shower already sobbing

everyone joked that javi would've had to die at some point bc luciano grew up rlly fast and he wouldn't have looked like he was aging at the right rate LMAO

sammi is all in on all the fan theories and constantly reading reddit, meanwhile christina's google account is set to the wrong language and sophie nelisse sends melanie tik toks all the time but melanie doesn't know how to open them

when asked who they thought the final one standing would be they said they hoped it was more than one but if it's anyone they joked it was gonna be walter

talked a LOT about the details of the set and the outfits, sammi drew attention to the fact that even though the huts looked really advanced the showrunners put a lot of effort into making sure everything was plausible. like the wire holding much of the huts together is from the plane's electronics, etc.

she talked about how one of her wilderness outfits (i think for when they ate mari or during the hunt) was sewn out of the seats from the plane

the mod asked whether they thought the teens or adults were more scary and sammi brought up a rlly interesting point (aided by christina) that the teens generally seem 'scarier' because in the wilderness they have literally nothing to lose. but by the end of s3 they've once again lost everything (shauna losing jeff and callie, misty being all alone, tai losing van) that now they're starting to become more and more similar

and now, my favorite parts of the panel (aka mistynatgate)

so, the whole conversation begins with the final girl convo i previously mentioned and the mod asks them all if they've seen the discourse online about it and it devolved into a conversation about fan theories and reddit etc.

mod asks sammi what her favorite fan theory she's seen is after sammi mentions being chronically online and she goes "wow that's such a tough question...." and then thinks for a little bit and comes up with "well, i don't know but i really enjoy all the shipping and how people ship the characters together"

at this point melanie and christina are looking at sammi like girl fym and so sammi is like "yeah like saying how certain characters are in love and making edits of them and stuff" and then UNPROMPTED by the crowd or anyone:

sammi goes: "like mistynat!"

at this point everyone in the crowd loses their shit and christina is like wait HUH

and she goes "wait but nat is so mean to misty"

and they crowd is like playfully arguing and sammi goes "oh i have an edit i need to show you later then 😏"

HUH?? HUH?? TEARS IN MY MISTYNAT EYES

also other mistynat crumbs include: sammi mentioning sophie thatcher ANY chance she gets, telling the mod the thing she's most excited for in s4 is to see what happens to nat post-crash, and christina telling the mod that out of everyone she wants nat to come back and haunt misty because she wants to get "heckled by juliette"

whole room constantly losing it over this

a couple other cute things:

sammi told everyone the teen cast constantly sends edits and tik toks to each other and that their groupchat is called 'nasty 90s'

nuha (krystal) and nia (akilah) are flying down to cali next week and they're going on a road trip with sammi! 🥹

butcherqueen crumbs when mod asked melanie who she'd most want to be haunted by and she answered "simone. obviously, because....obviously" and then subsequently ranted about how courtney was the most gorgeous person to ever walk the earth

sammi getting emotional talking about alexa/mari dying and how sad she's going to be when she's not on set next season and subsequently going "well, no, she'll be there" like SAMMI??? WHAT DO YOU KNOW GIRL??

melanie telling a story about how they accidentally found out melissa survived to the adult tl because when they filmed the bar scene after nat's funeral the call sheet said 'adult melissa double' bc of the bathroom scene but the showrunners hadn't told them yet

and, finally: SOPHIE T SENDS THE NAT IMPRESSION TIK TOKS TO SAMMI ALL THE TIME 😭

anyway guys best 69 bucks i've ever spent and i'm never gonna stop thinking about this ok bye!

[charliegyrth]

Getting Fat for TV

My Actor Husband Needs a Belly

Hi, everyone! Charlie here. This story was based on an anonymous suggestion. Thanks so much for the idea!

And the TV show itself came from my fellow writer @gainingfiction, who suggested that the acting role was for one of those cheesy "fat guy/hot wife" sitcoms that used to be really popular. (Loved that idea.) As I'm sure you all know, gainingfiction has written some amazing stories in our genre, so please check those out. They've been a huge inspiration for me.

***

The Job

“Are you serious right now? Nolan! My God! That’s awesome!”

I jumped off the couch, raced over, and leapt into his arms. He spun me around while I kissed him, one of the many benefits of being a pocket twink with a 6’3” husband.

He set me back down, smiling proudly.

“When did you find out?”

“Like five minutes ago,” Nolan said. “I was driving back home when my agent called.”

I can’t tell you how proud I was. Nolan was an amazing actor, and he’d finally gotten his big break! After years of bit parts as “hot boyfriends,” “idiot models,” and “background frat guys,” he landed the male lead in a new sitcom on ABC alongside Carla Ganucci. They hadn’t even filmed the pilot yet, but it already had a full-season order based on Carla’s popularity.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch. I had so many questions. When would they start filming? What was the show about? How much was he going to make? “Tell me everything.”

“Well, the casting director knew me from Primal Violence. She called me in for an audition last week. Then I had a callback with the showrunner.”

“Last week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to jinx it. This morning, I went back to ABC for a chemistry read with Carla, and she liked me! Everyone did.”

“Well, you’re quite likeable.” I kissed him again. Couldn’t stop myself.

“It’s a family sitcom. Carla’s the sassy wife from a rich family and I’m her blue-collar husband. An Average Joe plumber.”

“Really?” I didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but there was nothing average about Nolan. He had a gorgeous, very Scandinavian-looking face and the gym-trained body of an athlete. (He was a former fencer. Almost qualified for the Olympics when he was 19.) So far, all of his speaking roles had relied on his good looks.

I lived with him. I saw him on his off-days, lounging around in his pajamas, and he always (always!) looked camera-ready. I could not see him as an Average Joe plumber.

“Really!” he said, though his smile flickered a little. “It’s a bit of a stretch for me. But I have three months to prepare. The producers want Carla and me to be complete opposites, so they’ve given me some time to… schlub up.”

“Schlub up?” What did that even mean?

“They, um, want me to gain weight.” He paused, looking a little nervous. “You’d be okay with that, right?”

I didn’t answer, not because I disliked the idea, but because my brain literally couldn’t picture Nolan as anything other than a buff guy.

“You’re upset. I should’ve talked to you first. I can ask if they’ll let me wear a fat suit, but I don’t think—”

“No!” I said. I placed my hands on his solid chest. “This is your body. You decide what to do with it. I will love and support you at any size.”

He let out a relieved breath. I’m pretty sure he’d already agreed to the weight gain. It seemed like he’d been so excited by this opportunity that he hadn’t stopped to think about asking for his husband’s permission. But that was okay. I meant what I said.

“How big do you need to get?” I had to ask.

He pulled up his shirt, showing off the six-pack that he’d always been so proud of. He took my hand and made me trace around his muscles. “Just enough to turn this into a little belly. That’s all.”

I stiffened. Total surprise. Why was I suddenly turned on by the thought of him gaining weight?

Nolan noticed. With a smile, he whispered “little belly” again.

God. Those two words were really turning me on.

He stood up, held me in his strong arms, and carried me toward the bedroom so we could celebrate his good news. On the way, he asked, “Do you think you can help me get bigger?”

Once he unbuttoned my pants, he saw that his question made me get a little bigger as well.

***

The First Feeding

“Ready?” I called from the kitchen.

“Yup!” Nolan called back.

I walked into the living room with a pint of mint chocolate chip and a spoon. I was weirdly nervous.

Nolan was waiting on the couch, wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt. He didn’t look nervous at all. Just excited.

As I sat next to him, I asked again, “ Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Bring it on!”

He’d already had a massive breakfast and an even more massive lunch, but this was my first time feeding him. It felt like a no-turning-back moment, our first real step toward changing his body.

He didn’t have any doubts about what we were doing, but I still did. What if the TV show didn’t work out? What if he gained a bunch of weight and then couldn’t lose it? All his previous roles relied on his movie-star physique, and once that was gone, would his career be over?

I’m sure he had those same questions floating in his mind, but they didn’t seem to bother him. Plus, I’d already promised that I’d help.

So I dug the spoon into the ice cream and raised it to his lips. He sucked the spoon dry and swallowed.

“Oof. That’s sweet.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I’ll get used to it. Keep going.”

I fed him some more. As we’d discussed yesterday, the whole point of me feeding him was so that he could speed up his calorie intake. I was supposed to go steady and fast. Encourage him when he lagged. Keep going until he said our safe word. (“Muskrat.”)

I shoveled more ice cream into his mouth. With my free hand, I rubbed his hair. His expression was pretty neutral.

“You’re doing a good job, baby.”

He swallowed again. “Thanks.”

“Do you like the taste now?”

“Kinda,” he mumbled through another mouthful. “Try it.”

That wasn’t part of the deal. Our goal was to get the entire carton into his belly. If I ate some too, then he’d be missing out on precious calories.

But this was our first time. Why not help him a little? So I scooped up another spoonful, slid it past his waiting mouth, and ate it myself.

“Delicious.” Mint chocolate chip wasn’t my go-to flavor, but this brand was freaking amazing.

Knowing that, I was able to speed up my feeding. With ice cream this good, Nolan could handle going a bit faster.

Every few spoonfuls, I took one for myself. We felt more connected that way. Eating together. Sharing in the sweetness. The focus stayed on Nolan, of course.

And in a matter of minutes, the entire carton was empty. Nolan leaned back, moaned a little, and clutched his bloated stomach.

“Let me help with that,” I said. I pulled his hands away and slid mine under his loose shirt. I gave him his very first belly rub, mostly to ease the pain but also to explore just how bloated he’d gotten. The combination of his massive lunch and the entire carton of ice cream had left him quite distended. Rock hard.

“Thank you,” he moaned. He was thanking me for everything, not just the belly rub.

His eyes were shut tight, but I don’t think he was in pain. He seemed blissful. If we were going to keep this up (at least one feeding session a day for the next few months), I think he could handle it.

***

The Shirt

“Wow! You’re swimming in that thing!” Nolan joked from the living room.

I walked in with his box of donuts. I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. Then I realized that he was talking about the baggy blue shirt that hung off my narrow shoulders. Nolan’s shirt.

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m wearing your clothes now. Deal with it.” I sat next to him and positioned the donut box on my lap. “I’m tired of getting stains all over my clothes. If you weren’t such a messy eater…”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

It had been two weeks since Nolan started on his gaining journey, and in that time, I’d ruined three of my favorite shirts because of him. Every time I fed him, he got a little bit messier. I was fine with that. (Honestly, I was more than fine. His growing gluttony was pretty damn hot.) But from now on, the only clothes that I’d place in his sauce-spattered splash zone were his.

He leaned back. Got comfortable. Looked at me with hungry, expectant eyes. Then he glanced down at the assortment of donuts that I was about to stuff into him. “I don’t really like the maple ones. You can have those.”

“Fine by me.” I always took a little bit of his food for myself. Not enough to rob him of too many calories. Just enough to join in.

I grabbed an apple fritter and pressed it against his lips.

Hands-free, he ripped off a big bite. “Ooh. These are so good.”

“Yeah?” I said, biting off a piece for myself. He was right. The perfect amount of greasiness. As I fed him the rest, I asked, “How’s the new script?”

He’d gotten more script revisions this morning. The show finally had a name: Brenda Does Everything! With each new draft, it seemed like Brenda (Carla Ganucci’s character) got more type-A while Bubba (Nolan’s character) just got lazier. Other sitcoms had similar dynamics, but this show seemed to really exaggerate things.

“Pretty funny,” Nolan said. “So excited for our first table read.”

“Me, too,” I said as I fed him a donut with strawberry icing. With my free hand, I slid under his shirt and played with his lower belly. It had finally started to get soft, and I can’t tell you how much fun it was to poke it and squeeze it while I filled him up.

All our hard work was really paying off, and pretty soon, he’d start looking like a fat, lazy electrician. (The showrunner decided that he wouldn’t be a plumber anymore. Not sure why they made that change.)

“Keep going,” he muttered.

“Oh. Sorry.” I’d gotten so caught up in playing with his roll that I’d stopped feeding him. I took one bite of the strawberry donut for myself and then fed him the rest.

***

The Weigh-In

“Forty-nine pounds!” Nolan shouted from the bedroom.

I was in the kitchen melting sticks of butter to add to our dinner. I stopped what I was doing and ran across the house. I was disappointed that he’d weighed himself without me there, but whatever. Forty-nine pounds was a big deal. Not like I was surprised.

He stood proudly by the scale. I ran over and jumped into his arms, something I hadn’t done for a while.

He caught me but then grunted and immediately set me down. “Sorry, babe. I don’t think I can lift you anymore.”

That made me smile. Now that he’d stopped going to the gym and spent all his free time eating, he couldn’t even pick me up. That was definitely progress.

“Well, let’s have a look!” I said.

He pulled off his shirt, giving me a front-row look at his new belly. My breath caught in my throat. He looked amazing. His muscular base was still there, but a circular beer belly had formed under his (slightly inflated) pecs. Big, round, dusted with just enough body hair. Because he was so tall, those 50 pounds didn't seem to affect anywhere except around the middle (and a bit on his thighs). So hot.

I stepped closer and gave him a congratulatory pat on the stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“Proud. Confident. It’s a good look for me, isn’t it?”

I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You’ve never looked better.”

The more I fed him, the more I watched his belly inflate, the more I realized that this was what I wanted. What I’d always wanted. Nolan used to be gorgeous. Now, he was so much more.

“Thanks. When I meet with Dave today, I’ll ask him what he thinks. He’ll tell me if I’m big enough yet.”

Dave was the showrunner. Nolan was going to have lunch with him and Carla in a couple hours.

“Okay.”

He noticed the disappointment in my voice. “Oh, honey. Even if he tells me to stop fattening up, that doesn’t mean you can’t feed me anymore. I still need to maintain what I’ve already gained. We’ll just have to… slow down a little once filming starts.”

I nodded.

“Then again, he could tell me to keep going. We’ll find out.” He studied me for a long moment. “You’ve really enjoyed yourself the last three months, huh?”

“Do I even need to answer that?”

He smiled and led me back into the kitchen. “You know, I won’t meet with them for another two hours. And, well, 49 is a great number, but 50 is nice and round. Maybe…” His voice trailed off.

As he leaned against the kitchen counter, I opened the fridge to see what we had.

***

Meeting Carla

Nolan stepped into the living room, all dressed up and snazzy. His black pants accentuated his expanded hips and his new belly was more than noticeable under his tight gray shirt. “How do I look?” He spun around.

“Capital-F fat,” I said.

“Perfect.”

I didn’t lie. For the first time in his entire life, he was fat. Deep down, I really wanted to see him keep growing, but if this was as big as he’d get, I’d be happy with that, too.

I kissed his cheek. “Good luck, honey.”

He checked out his reflection, stared down at his bulging stomach, and headed outside.

Now that I was alone in the house, I cleaned the kitchen, caught up on my emails, and scrolled through Instagram. I tried to go about my life, but I couldn’t stop wondering how his meeting was going.

After an hour, I wandered into the kitchen and checked out what was left in our cookie jar. I wasn’t hungry. Just bored.

We still had a couple chocolate chip cookies left over from yesterday’s feeding session. It would be a shame to let those go to waste. I ate one and headed back to the couch to see what was on TV. A few minutes later, I went back and finished the rest.

Not a big deal. Every day, Nolan ate so much more than me. Sure, I was snacking more than I used to, but my intake didn’t hold a candle to what we husband shoved in. And in a way, these little treats made me think of him. The blast of sugar reminded me of all the fun times we shared.

With the taste of chocolate in my mouth, I stretched out on the couch and took a little nap.

Nolan woke me up with a kiss. “Honey? We have a guest.”

My eyes fluttered open. Nolan’s smiling face came into focus, but when I saw the person standing behind him, I instantly lost all grogginess.

“Carla!” I jumped to my feet.

Carla Ganucci stepped forward, looking absolutely gorgeous, and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I shook her hand, trying (and failing) to speak.

I’d seen so many of Carla’s romcoms and stand-up specials. It took my brain an embarrassingly long time to accept that I was actually meeting her in the flesh. The Carla Ganucci was in our house.

Nolan laughed. “My husband’s a fan, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Sorry to surprise you,” she said, “but I always like to learn as much as possible about my costars. And since you’re my husband’s husband…” She looked me up and down. “I hear you’ve been a big help getting Nolan ready for our show.”

She could’ve been talking about how I ran lines with him, but I was pretty sure she was talking about helping him gain weight.

Nolan stepped toward me and wiped his thumb against the corner of my mouth. “You got a little chocolate,” he whispered.

The embarrassment of that moment pulled me out of my starstruck daze. “Carla, would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you. We just came from lunch. But I would like to get to know you a little.” She sat on our recliner. Nolan and I sat on the couch across from her.

She clapped her hands together. “So. What’s it like being married to this guy?”

I turned toward Nolan, silently asking what he wanted me to say.

“Just be honest."

“Well. Um. He’s very funny. He’s kind.”

“Any annoying habits I should know about?” she asked.

I had to think. “Well, since he’s so much bigger than me, he always pats me on the head when we’re arguing about something. Makes me feel like a little kid. So annoying.”

“That annoys you?” Nolan asked.

“And sometimes, if I’m running around and getting in the way, he’ll just pick me up and drop me onto the couch.”

Carla laughed. “Right. That’s funny.”

Nolan glanced at her nervously but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure why.

“So he tells me you gave him a lot of pointers when it came to nutrition, huh?” She glanced at Nolan’s stomach. “As a bigger guy, you must’ve—”

Nolan interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. “Dave said I’m the right size now! So our work is done.”

“Really?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

“He’ll be doing a lot of physical comedy,” Carla explained. “Pratfalls and whatnot. Can’t get too out of shape.” She glanced over at Nolan. “Speaking of, your husband’s joke gave me a good idea for a button at the end of Act One.”

Nolan knew exactly what she meant.

I didn’t. As a non-actor, I had no idea what a “button” was. I watched as Carla approached Nolan and started reciting some of her lines, arguing with him about some chore that he didn’t finish. Nolan responded with a joke, but when Carla kept nagging him, he picked her up (just like he used to pick me up) and deposited her onto the couch. Then he strutted away. End of scene.

“That works!” she said. “Ooh, that’ll be funny."

She didn’t stay much longer after that. She asked me a few more questions about our marriage and my hobbies, but Nolan kept changing the subject. It was a little weird.

Still, nice lady. She didn’t act like a stuck-up celebrity at all.

After Nolan showed her to the door, he came back to me and asked what I thought.

“I like her,” I answered honestly. “But why did she laugh when I said that you—”

“Honey,” Nolan interrupted. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

***

My Reflection

Nolan didn’t say anything as he led me into the bedroom. His face was weirdly serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s, um, something you haven’t noticed. I kept expecting you to figure it out, but you haven’t. So…”

We were standing in front of the full-length mirror. I looked at my husband’s handsome reflection, so dashing in his suit. The sight of his bulging belly gave me a real sense of pride.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“My handsome, fat husband,” I said.

“Anything else?”

What was he hinting at? Did he get a haircut that I hadn’t noticed? “I don’t know.”

“Honey,” he said, “you know I love you.”

I gulped. This definitely sounded like he was about to give me some bad news. I wished he'd just tell me.

“You spend so much time focused on me that you haven’t really… paid attention to yourself,” he said.

I looked at my reflection, and I had to admit, I didn’t look great. I hadn’t left the house much in the last three months, so my hair had gotten shaggy. I was wearing my typical outfit: sweatpants and one of Nolan’s loose shirts. Or maybe it was my shirt. It didn’t look that loose.

As I stared at my reflection, wondering why I looked so different, Nolan stepped behind me and pulled off my shirt.

I gasped. “I’m… I’m fat!”

“You’re not that fat,” Nolan assured me.

“I’m fatter than you!” I shouted, so shocked that my voice came out embarrassingly high pitched.

How could I have allowed myself to get like this? I’d always been the smallest guy in any room. Cute. Pocket-sized. Now, I had a soft gut that hung over my waistband and hips that were way wider than they used to be. (I didn’t want to see how fat my ass must’ve gotten.) And worst of all, my chest had sprouted pointed little breasts. Were my nipples stretched out? Yeah, they were.

Not quite believing what I saw, I grabbed my stomach and jiggled it. Yup, I actually jiggled.

Nolan wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me so I wouldn’t have a panic attack.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered over and over as he guided me to the bed.

I flopped down, seeing my bare belly slosh around.

Nolan sat next to me. “I was waiting for you to realize.”

“But… But… But you were the one overeating! Not me!”

He rubbed my back. “You take a lot of food for yourself when you’re feeding me. You realize that, right?”

“You eat most of it.”

“Yeah. But I’m 6’3”. You’re 5’5”. It sticks to you more.”

“Okay. That makes sense. But how could I not have noticed… all this?” I grabbed my belly again, grimacing at the squishiness.

“Because you were so focused on me. And since you’ve been wearing my old clothes, you haven’t noticed that you’ve… outgrown…”

Oh God. I must’ve outgrown every single shirt I owned. “How can you even look at me?”

He grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look into his eyes. “Honey, you like what I look like, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Even though I’m not ripped anymore?”

I nodded. I preferred him like this. His belly was his finest feature.

“One of the reasons I didn’t want to tell you was that, um, I really like how you look. On some level, I dreaded the moment when you found out, because then you would…”

“I would what?”

He looked away. Now it was my turn to make him look me in the eyes.

“Stop growing.” He slid his palms along my sides, sending shivers through me. He squeezed gently into my love handles. “For the last three months, you’ve gotten sexier by the day. Sure, I can’t pick you up anymore, but there’s so much more of you to… I don’t know what to say. You’re beautiful.”

Nolan was an amazing actor, but whenever he talked to me, I could always tell when he was lying. And right now, I knew that he meant everything he said.

I kissed him.

As he felt me and jiggled me, no longer holding anything back, all my conflicted feelings went away. Under his fingertips, I began to accept my body. Then appreciate it. Then love it as much as he did.

He pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me so that his belly pressed down on me. He started unbuttoning his shirt. Then he stopped. A smile spread across his face.

“Before we start,” he said, “I brought back some cheesecake from the restaurant. Why don’t I—?”

“Yes, please!”

***

The Party

The wrap party was supposed to start five minutes ago, but the director was still talking to Nolan and Carla. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I waddled over to the craft table and grabbed a sandwich. By the time I finished it and started on the second, they were finally done.

Nolan strutted over, his belly bobbing hypnotically in front of him. “You know we’re gonna have cake soon.” He kissed my cheek.

“I know,” I said. Didn’t stop me from finishing the sandwich, though. “Why don’t you get out of your costume, babe? You look so uncomfortable.”

Before I finished my sentence, he’d already pulled up his shirt and turned around so I could unstrap his fake belly. He pulled it off and let out a relieved breath. “Oof. That feels better.”

After all those months building his gut, it had taken his body half as long to shrink down to its natural, ripped state. When he was on the set, he constantly ran around and performed take after take of very physical stuff. No matter how much he ate, he kept losing weight, to the point where a prosthetic belly was just more practical.

Three months of hard work down the drain. Of course, I wouldn’t trade that time for anything, because it had started me on the gaining journey that I was always meant to take. And now, one year and 83 pounds later (as of this morning!), I was the happiest I’d ever been.

During those first months before I realized I was gaining, my weight had only increased by 26 pounds, half of what Nolan had gained. But on my small frame, those 26 pounds were pretty drastic. Needless to the say, the next 83 were explosive. I had no neck anymore; just a wraparound second chin. My moobs were round and constantly in movement. And while my belly was prominent, it was nothing compared to my thighs, which forced me to upgrade my pants virtually every month.

Those daily feedings, man. They add up.

Nolan put his arm around my shoulder and led me to the front of the stage, where everyone was gathering for the party. Even though only half the season had already aired, they’d just filmed their 22nd and final episode of the season.

“Hey! It’s my husband’s husband!” Carla wrapped me in a hug. (It still felt weird to think of a celebrity like Carla Ganucci as a personal friend, even though Nolan was just as famous himself.) “Take care of this guy during the hiatus. He needs his rest before season two.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “We’ll take things easy over the summer.”

Carla was close enough to Nolan to hear all about our… dynamic. She knew that the next two months would be filled with constant feeding sessions. I think he’d even told her about the funnel we just started using. While tabloid magazines had been pretty harsh over the last year (sample headline: “Sitcom Star’s Husband Addicted to Food… Relationship Heading Toward Divorce?”), Carla had been nothing but supportive.

Dave, the showrunner, shouted for everyone’s attention as a PA wheeled out the biggest cake I’d ever seen. The Brenda Does Everything logo stretched across the top, along with the faces of the entire cast. As Dave made a very long speech thanking the cast and crew, Nolan pinched my side-fat. He did that whenever he wanted to get my attention.

“What?” I whispered.

He bent down to get at my ear-level. “You see that cake? Big enough for everyone here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as the star of the show, I pulled a few strings and got them to order two. The other is waiting back home.”

I loved my husband so much. He was the big star, but with his help, I was going to get so much bigger.

The End

Thanks for reading! In case you missed it, check out my other story Fattening the Actor and its sequel.

[enha4everr]

pirouettes and petty arguments — beyond the barre.

PARING: nishimura riki x reader

GENRE: dance rivals to lovers, mutual pining, teasing, fluff, teensy bit of angst.

SYNOPSIS: At the Korean National University of Arts, Nishimura Riki is the most admired dancer, the ‘golden boy’ of the department —infuriatingly talented and always two steps ahead. When you’re unexpectedly paired with him for the lead role in Lacrimosa, your world tilts, as you struggle to maintain the blurring lines between rivalry and another emotion you’re just not ready to admit.

Chapter One: Pirouettes and Petty Arguments  You know how every department has that one person?

The one who makes everything look effortless. The one who somehow manages to charm professors, classmates, and the janitor who mops the practice floors at 11 PM. 

The one who spins through life like gravity just—isn’t a thing.

Yeah. At the Korean National University of Arts, Nishimura Riki is the most admired dancer in the department.

"Riki, with his too-perfect turnout, infuriating, half-hearted grin, and that slouchy grey hoodie. He moves with an infinite amount of control, so effortless that it makes your best pirouette feel like a warm-up.

Yet he never stretches long, never complains, never seems to try—at least not in the way you do.

But Riki’s always watching, and somehow, that’s what makes it worse.

And you hate him. Mostly.

Okay, maybe not him, exactly. Maybe it’s more the way you feel, whenever he walks into the room—like suddenly you're auditioning for your own life.

The auditions for the winter showcase were always intense. Both of you are going for the same lead in Lacrimosa. It’s brutal choreography—dark, sweeping, emotional. It’s supposed to strip you bare. And you’d been working your ass off, running that solo every night until your muscles trembled and the pads of your feet go numb.

Meanwhile, he strolls in ten minutes late, hair tousled as if he’s just rolled out of bed, headphones around his neck, like this was just another Tuesday. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t apologise, just moves through the door as if time and space bends to him. Riki’s presence fills the room without trying. The class is already in motion, but he’s unfazed. You swear he doesn’t even notice the way everyone's eyes dart toward him— he’s too busy slipping into his ballet shoes.

He barely warms up, stretching with a casual slouch, his arms wide in lazy arcs as though his body knows exactly what it needs without any effort. He yawns— during barre of all things. And still—still— when the music starts, it’s like someone flips a switch. He moves like liquid gold—smooth, fluid, so attuned to the rhythm that it's almost like the music was made just for him. Every beat is a part of him. He doesn’t just dance, he becomes the dance, as if it’s coursing through his veins.

Afterward, you’re toweling off when he walks past, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nice try, Twinkle Toes. You almost nailed that last sequence.”

You don’t even bother to look up. Almost? Were you supposed to get a gold star or something?

"What is this, kindergarten?"

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, just enough to make even you wince.

Riki sports his signature smirk, eyes glinting with his usual mischief.

You don’t respond, but you can feel it—the way your heart pounds in your chest, blood rushing in your ears. Warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself. You desperately avoid his taunting gaze, but it’s pointless.

Riki notices. He always does.

The nickname. Twinkle Toes. It lingers in the air like it always does, etching into your skin like a mark that won’t fade. A permanent reminder of that first moment, two years ago, the one when it all started—when you learned how to hate that nickname, how to hate him.

He pauses just long enough to glance over his shoulder. “Almost doesn’t count, though, does it? Or maybe you’re just waiting for me to give you a hand...?”

“Prove you’ve got what it takes. Go on, try again.” His voice is unusually light, softening ever so slightly — just enough to make your pulse pick up.

Your hands tremble as you try to hold onto the towel, but it's hard to focus when every nerve is firing in response to his voice. That familiar feeling—the one you hate and yet crave—starts to curl up inside your chest. It’s a dare wrapped in a challenge. You want to prove him wrong, to show him that you can do it, even though every part of you is screaming to just let it go—to let him have this one. 

You take a deep breath locking eyes with him for a split second. His smirk, that infuriating smirk, is still there, like he knows exactly what you're feeling. Like he’s waiting for you to crack.

But you don’t. Not this time. You refuse.

With a tilt of your head, you drop the towel and push past him, stepping back into the practice room. You straighten your shoulders, taking in a deep breath as you let your gaze touch the mirrored wall in front of you.

For a moment, it feels like everything goes still as if the air itself is holding its breath. Then with a sharp, quick, decisive motion, you push yourself back into the rhythm. Every step, every movement is precise. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s watching, but you can feel his presence. His eyes boring into the back of your neck like they always do.

But this time, you don’t falter. You don’t let his words hold you back. This time, you nail it—every motion, turn and leap is utterly flawless. The sequence feels effortless, almost like you’ve been doing it your whole life.

And when the music fades, there are a few beats of silence that feel like victory.

You don’t turn to look at him. Instead, you take a moment to breathe, to ground yourself in the stillness. 

Now you’ve proved something, not to him, but to yourself. You don’t need his approval to know what you're capable of.

And Riki? He’s still there, probably waiting for a reaction. But the only thing that matters now is the quiet satisfaction of knowing you’ve come this far, no thanks to his mockery.

“Checkmate” you mutter in satisfaction, your tone is just a little too calm. Just a little too confident. 

And this time, the challenge is yours.

Riki stays silent, his gaze locked on you from the practice room but he hasn’t admitted defeat. 

A fluke

You may have won this round, but now… now things are about to get more complicated.  — It’s been a week since the auditions. 

The cast sheet is tacked up, a simple, innocent piece of paper at first glance. The names listed are familiar, but one stands out—Your name. His name. Side by side. Double leads. Shared choreography. Partners. You blink, rubbing your eyes as though to clear the fog, but it doesn’t change. The words are still there, mocking you, the ink thick and permanent.

It’s supposed to be a dream, right? The roles you've fought for, the part you’ve worked tirelessly to earn. But something about it gnaws at you. The other names are just names, but his, his name—it feels wrong in your throat, like trying to swallow something sharp.

You reach for the page, fingers trembling, and your breath catches when you feel the edge of the paper, almost too smooth. Too cold.

Around you, the others are congratulating each other, but the noise fades, muffled, as if you’re underwater. His name glows in the corner of your vision, searing into your mind. The laughter, the chatter, the excitement — all of it seems so distant, so foreign.

And then, from the corner of your eye, you catch him looking. Not just glancing. But staring. His lips curve into a small smirk as though he knows exactly what’s happening inside you. 

A slow, creeping dread starts to coil in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s the role or the person beside it that’s more terrifying. But one thing is clear: this isn’t just dance anymore. It’s a trap. And you’re caught in it, no way out, no way back.

— Now you're stuck holding his hand in rehearsal, pretending it doesn’t fit too well in yours. The heat of his palm against yours is a little too warm for your own good. You fight to keep your grip steady, even as it betrays you. 

It’s just the steps. Just the routine.

You’re pretending your breath doesn’t hitch when you land that lift together, even though you’ve done it a hundred times. His chest presses against your back, and for a second, the movement feels too easy. Too natural. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. 

That tight pull in your chest is just the adrenaline, the effort, the fight. 

Nothing more.

But you feel it anyway. The way his fingers interlace into yours and the way he moves with precision, like he’s memorized every part of you.  

Please focus. You’re forcing your eyes to stay forward, even though the mirror feels like it’s tormenting you. And so is his reflection. 

Don’t look at him. Don’t give him any reason to think you’re noticing.

Yet, the moment he catches your gaze in the mirror—just for a fraction of a second—your stomach lurches. 

Dammit. You can’t be doing this.

You’re supposed to be competitors, not—your thoughts are trailing. It’s leaving a gnawing sensation in your chest. It’s a struggle for the spotlight. It’s not anything else. It can’t be.

But when he steps a little closer during the last sequence, you can feel the heat radiating off him and you can’t ignore the way your pulse races.

 Skin pricking with awareness. 

You’re not falling. 

Not yet.

But the thought feels weaker now, like it’s just a matter of time before you do.

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

29) practice and other things (written)

You wake up the next morning, the warm sunlight slipping in through the blinds and making your eyes flutter open. Your body is still heavy with sleep, and yet you’re buzzing with excitement already - and no wonder you feel that way, especially when your last memory before bed was someone else’s breath close to yours.

You stretch lazily, fighting back a smile. A small yawn slips out of you and you blink a few times, still adjusting to the soft light landing on your face from the window. You roll over, arms reaching out for something - or more like someone - but the space next to you is empty.

You frown slightly and sit up, the blanket pooling around your waist. The sheets are still warm, a bit creased where the boy you’re searching for must have been sleeping. That’s good - it means that he couldn’t have left too long ago.

And then you hear it - movement from behind the closed bathroom door. There is definitely someone shuffling around, you can hear the sound of the water running, and then a loud thud - like whoever’s in there just almost knocked over your entire cabinet. Mark.

A smile tugs at your lips again, and you have to shake your head at his antics. You run a hand through your hair, trying to look at least a little presentable, even though you’re sure Mark has already seen you in a terrible state a few minutes ago - mouth probably wide open, your hair a mess and you don’t even want to consider the possibility of him seeing you drool in your sleep.

Still, you have to mentally scold yourself when you feel your cheeks heat up at the realisation that Mark is in your dorm right now. You hate to admit it, but it feels weirdly domestic - like something you could get used to. And even though nothing major has happened between the two of you yet, you still kissed him. He kissed you. And neither of you seemed to regret it ! That’s what you think, at least.

You pad softly to the bathroom door and knock gently. “Hey,” you call out, still half-asleep. “You alive in there ?”

The water stops. A beat of silence, and some more shuffling around, like he doesn’t know what to do all of a sudden.

Then, “Yeah. Just - uh, gimme a sec.”

So you wait patiently, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. The door flies open a moment later, revealing Mark, his hair damp, his hoodie only halfway on, holding the damn pj set you secretly found really cute last night to his chest.

But something seems off. He avoids eye contact with you, doesn’t even smile when he sees you, and he just scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Morning,” you say, a little unsure now, carefully taking in his expression. “Everything okay ?”

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.” He nods quickly, still not looking at you.

You take a small step back, trying not to feel the way your chest tightens. “Oh, that’s good. Um… I was thinking we could maybe grab some coffee like last time, or we could just order something and hang out here-”

Mark winces slightly, but immediately tries to give you a reassuring smile once he sees you visibly pause mid-sentence. “That sounds great but actually, I think I should just head out. I’ve got some stuff I really need to do today, you know, like practice, and… other things.”

You stare at him, your frown deepening even more now. “Practice and other things ? Mark, I usually practice with you.”

Mark walks past you, heading straight towards your bed without sparing you a glance. He picks up his phone and quickly checks his notifications, clearly trying to keep himself busy so he doesn’t have to meet your puzzled gaze. “I know, but the audition is in three days and I really need to focus, if you know what I mean.” He finally looks up, giving you a pointed look. And you don’t like that. Not in the slightest.

You follow him back into the room, carefully closing the distance between you. “So - let me get this straight. You’re saying you can’t focus when I listen to you play ?” You take another step towards him, crossing your arms. “Because I was under the impression that having me there actually helps you focus better. I mean, this whole time, you’ve been asking me to listen. To tell you what I think.”

He hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Instead, he starts fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, and then pockets his phone, taking a deep breath. “Well… you don’t really know much about the guitar, do you ? So, maybe your opinion doesn’t matter that much.” He shoots you a quick glance and then looks down at his hands again. “Just let me do this, alright ? I know what I’m doing.”

That shuts you up. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement - Mark has never, ever made you feel like this before. And it’s not even about him not needing you - of course he doesn’t, you’re not the one who’ll be standing on the stage after all, he is. But you weren’t trying to take that from him. All you ever wanted was to support him, to listen, because you liked seeing him play, to let him know you’re rooting for him, because you care about him, because you like him-

“…Are you serious ?”

Mark nods, harshly stuffing the pj set into his backpack, probably trying to get out of your dorm as soon as possible. “Yeah. This means a lot to me, you know that. I need to clear my head a bit, at least for now.”

You shake your head, not believing a word he says. “But that’s not it, is it ? This is about what happened last night.” Mark winces again but doesn’t say anything, still refusing to even look your way. So you continue, taking another step closer. “Am i that bad at kissing or something ? Do you regret last night ?”

“It’s not about last night, Y/n.” Mark says firmly, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Not at all. Listen, I’ll talk to you later, alright ? I gotta go.”

You want to say something more, keep arguing with him, but Mark just closes the distance between you two, pulling you closer by the waist and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for letting me stay the night,” he mumbles. “I’ll text you later, don’t worry.” And just like that, he’s out of the door.

You stay right where he left you, arms wrapped around yourself. The air feels colder now. Sharper.

You aren’t even sure what just happened. You’re mad at him for not being able to sort out his feelings, mad at yourself for having high expectations, mad at the world because for some unknown reason, it seems like nothing ever goes the way you want it to.

You keep staring at the closed door, heart sinking just a little.

─���⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: hey yall… oops 😝

btw i’m lowkey realizing that i enjoy writing these parts way more than making the fake text ones 😭 i might write an actual fic in the near future i feel like challenging myself tbh !

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[alotofpockets]

Out of pocket | Renee Rapp x Actress!Reader

Where an interviewer makes out of pocket comments and Reneé stands up for you

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

Booking Mean Girls was your breakthrough, you had some small roles in TV shows here and there, but getting to play the main character in this rendition of a movie you loved dearly, is what put your acting career on the map. 

Your girlfriend and co-star, Reneé, had helped prepare you for your first big interview. In the preparations she had also mentioned that interviewers could be a hit or a miss, and that there were reporters out there that definitely should not be in the industry. You didn’t take the warning lightly, but assumed your first ever interview would not be with an interviewer that was a part of the minority that didn’t treat people right.

Nothing in the kind and welcoming introduction when you got to the studio could have prepared you for the change that was coming your way. With the camera rolling and the spotlights on you, you were ready to start the interview. Reneé was to your side, and the interviewer sat off to the side behind the camera’s.

“Hello and welcome back to another interview! Today we have Reneé Rapp and Y/n Y/l/n, two stars of the newest Mean Girls movie. Welcome girls, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” You and Reneé both smile, “Thank you for having us.” You say for the both of you.

“Let’s dive right in. Reneé, how excited are you for the release of your new film?” Renee immediately lit up, “Yeah, I am super excited. It has been so much fun being able to portray Regina again, I honestly cannot wait for everyone to see the movie.”

The interviewer nods and moves to you, “And Y/n, how has it been to work on your first big movie set?” You were still a little nervous, so you looked over to Reneé for comfort. Her reassuring smile was all it took for you to feel more comfortable. “It was an incredible experience. Everyone on the team was amazing, and I learned so much while working on creating a movie that I cannot wait to share with the world.”

“Reneé, obviously you’ve been in the spotlight for quite a bit.” She nods in agreement, “How was it working with a relatively new face like Y/n.” Your girlfriend looked over to you with nothing but love in her eyes. “It was great to see in action, she brought an energy to the team that was exactly what we needed. She is very talented, and working with her was amazing. I hope to be privileged enough to be able to work with her again.” 

“The fans can’t seem to stop shipping your characters, as well as the two of you. Would you like to share the story of how you met?” Since Reneé answered the last question, you took this one. “We had met a couple times shortly though a mutual friend, but really connected during the audition process for Mean Girls.” Reneé nodded along with you, “You could say that the chemistry read was off the chart with us.” She adds with a wink, that leaves you giggling. 

The ease you were feeling during the interview was quickly gone with the next question that was asked. “Y/n, how are you dealing with being in the spotlight? Are you keeping up with all the attention, or is it overwhelming for someone with your background?” You had been very open about your past, and not growing up with a lot of money, but the way this question was formulated made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh eh it’s definitely a big change, but I am grateful for my team, coworkers like Reneé, and the fans for accepting me into this world and supporting me in my career.” The interviewer nods, and you get a feeling he wasn’t done just yet. 

“Speaking of change, it must be quite an adjustment from your humble beginnings to now being the lead in what is expected to be a hit movie. Do you think you would’ve made it this far if you weren’t dating someone in the industry, who has the proper experience?” 

The question takes the both of you by surprise. Reneé reaches out her hand and places it on your upper leg, to offer you some kind of comfort. “I believe I’ve earned my place here.” You were not going to let him paint this picture where you got everything handed to you on a silver plate. “Every audition, every role, and every late night spent studying lines, it brought me here. I have worked very hard to be a part of this industry, as has every actor I’ve ever met.”

The interviewer smirks, clearly not satisfied with your answer, “Alright, but don’t you think that being in a relationship with someone as established as Reneé might give you an unfair advantage? I mean, how do you think people perceive your success? As earned, or just as a result of dating your girlfriend?”

Reneé is ready to burst, but you stand up before she can say anything. “I refuse to be disrespected like this, I’ve worked too hard to let someone like you undermine my accomplishments. This interview is over.” With that you rip off the microphone pack and walk out of the room. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Y/n is an incredibly talented actress, who has earned every bit of success through her own hard work. The fact that you’d suggest otherwise says more about you than it does about her. Like she said, this interview is over and we do not sign off on you using any of this.” After defending you, Reneé rushes off to find you. 

She found you pacing the hallway. The moment your eyes find hers, you rush into her arms. “I am so sorry he said all of that. You worked very hard to get where you are today, and I am so proud of you. I am also very proud of you for standing up for yourself, I know that isn’t always easy in situations like this.” 

You shake your head, “Who does he think he is, asking these kinds of questions?” Reneé shakes her head. “A low life who wants to make money off of other people’s misery, but don’t worry, I told him that we do not give him the right to use the footage of today.”

Reneé took you home, where you spent a relaxing afternoon together, full of cuddles and comfort. This was definitely not the first big interview you had in mind, but there was nothing you could change about it. Together with Reneé, you had gotten both your managers together and explained everything that happened, and to let them know that neither one of you would ever agree to interview with the company again. 

A few days later, against all your expectations he had released the interview against your wishes, and painted you as the bad guy. You were angry, and were in constant meetings with your management to figure out what your options were.

Between calls Reneé got the perfect opportunity, so you got both your managers on the phone again. “Drew Barrymore just called and said that if we want to, she wants to give us the opportunity to talk about the interview on her show. She wants to give us a platform to create change in the industry.” You take over from your girlfriend. “Yeah, we already talked about it amongst ourselves, and would love to grasp this opportunity. I know how horrible it was for me, and I want to be a part of making a change.”

Both managers agree, and the next day you are on Drew’s show. The experience of being interviewed by her was a stark contrast to your first interview, and you were glad to know that there were good people out there. 

Drew let you speak on what happened at the interview, and how they used the footage while you had retracted your consent for them to use it. “And Y/n, have you seen the reactions of your fans?” You shake your head, “No, I’ve honestly tried to ignore everything surrounding the release of that video.” Drew nods, “That is very fair. I have a compilation of a few things we have found online, and would love to show it to you. Only if you are up for it of course, it’s up to you.”

You end up agreeing, and Drew instructs her crew to play it on the big screen. It starts off with a few screenshots of YouTube comments and tweets of fans defending you, which already got to you. You watched the screen with teary eyes, and leaned into Reneé for comfort. She wraps her arm around you and pulls you even closer. 

Then the video shows some of your co-stars defending your honour, as well a bunch of people from the industry. At that point you could no longer keep your tears in. Reneé kissed your shoulder, and rubbed her free hand over your arm. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Drew says when she notices the tears on your cheeks. You wipe them away, “Happy tears, don’t worry. Thank you for showing me this, and thank you to everyone that defended my honour. Your support means the absolute world to me.”

The rest of the interview was focussed on your upcoming movie, in the form of a redo from the failed interview. This time you and Reneé both felt comfortable and safe, all thanks to Drew and her team.

With this interview you were sad that it had to come to an end, but walked off feeling content. Drew listened to everything the both of you had to say, and shared the same enthusiasm as the two of you did about the new movie. 

“Thank you.” You say to Reneé, once you’re in your dressing room. “What for?” She asks with her brows slightly furrowed. “Just for always being there for me. I love you.” She smiles and pulls you in for a hug. “I love you too, and I will always have your back.”

-----

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[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Choso Kamo as Band Player [HC Enemies to Lovers]

woah, I've been having this idea for a while and felt inspired to write a cute little drabble on drunk Nanami. enjoy! word count: 2100+ tags: choso kamo, choso & reader

“Uh, no, absolutely no. Not happening”.

Choso crossed tattoos arms on his broad chest and eyed you skeptically.

“Oh come on, man. We need a lead singer. And she has a killer voice”.

Yuji Itadori, Choso’s younger brother, played synth in the band and was the one to bring you for auditioning. Which you apparently failed without even opening your mouth, judging by Choso’s looks.

“Hey, I don’t mind a chick in the band. She’s fine”, Ryomen Sukuna twisted a drumstick in his fingers and winked at you. You shivered. Sukuna, or Ryo, as some called him, was known for being the wild one. And you definitely didn’t want to be the center of his attention.

“What do you say?”, Choso turned to the electric guitar player. 

Geto eyed you carefully.

“I think I want to listen to her, Choso”, he said slowly. “Not like we have lots of options here. And the gig is next week already. Stop being a prick and just give her a chance”.

Choso huffed and shot a deadly glare at you but didn’t say a word. Geto, sensing his victory, gave you a hint of a smile and said:

“We have this song that we want to play. Uh, where is this shit… Oh, here you go”.

He handed you a crumpled piece of paper.

“Just look through ‘em real fast while we play. I think you’ll have an idea of what goes when. And by the way… I’m on the back vocals. You won’t be all alone, dollface”.

You smiled politely and nodded. By now, you didn’t really understand why the hell you agreed to audition. Sometimes, Yuji could be a bit too persuasive…

As you sank deep in thought, Sukuna started setting the pace. Geto caught on quickly, with Choso almost immediately following him. And as soon as Yuji was about to hit the synth, you started singing.

It wasn’t like somebody gave you a clue. It just… occurred to you. It felt right to sing right now, in unison with the beautiful melody of the synth.

As you sang the first few words, Choso’ eyebrows flew high but he didn’t say anything. It seemed to you as if he gripped his guitar tighter but you were too immersed in the music to be sure. Geto, however, was more than pleased to hear your voice. Soon after, he chimed in, his bariton complementing your soprano beautifully. 

“Damn that’s hot”, you heard Sukuna’s hoarse laughter as he increased the tempo but you didn’t care. At that moment, you didn’t care about a thing in a world, blown away by the beauty of music dancing in the air around you.

And if asked at that very moment, Choso would admit that you looked absolutely angelic.

****

“She is… fine, I guess”, Choso mumbled after the rehearsal was over and you left. “I think we might keep her for the gig at least”.

“I don’ know man, I’d keep her by my side all night long”, Sukuna grinned, packing the drums.

Choso’s gaze suddenly darkened and Sukuna noticed it.

“What? You were the one gabbling about how you don’t like her. And now all of a sudden you are giving me these shitty looks?”

“Hey, don’t fight, okay?” Yuji rubbed his forehead. “Ryo is kinda right here, Cho. You hated the idea of the girl joining us and now you are all weird. Did you like her or something?”

Choso felt his face burning red and quickly looked away, pretending to untangle the guitar belt.

“It’s nothing like that. It’s just Sukuna acting like a dick again”.

“Like a man, you meant to say”, Sukuna grinned again and headed for the door. “If you ever decide to become one, hit me with a call”.

Choso gritted his teeth, anger boiling in his body. Suddenly he felt Geto’s hand on his shoulder.

“He is always like that, but he is right about one thing. Why are you so agitated all of a sudden? It’s just a girl”.

****

To Choso, you were never just a girl from the very start. 

As soon as you entered their rehearsal room, he was doomed. Choso didn’t have much experience with girls before though he always attracted them. Broody, edgy and serious, covered in tattoos, he was the definition of the “bad boy” dream that almost every girl had. So obviously, once he started school, he received a fair share of hookups and attention but to him, it seemed more like a social experiment. 

Of course, he knew about the concept of love and honestly, he found it beautiful. Choso firmly believed that when you meet the very special someone, you’ll know it instantly.

And that’s exactly what happened when he looked in your eyes.

Damn, you were too good for him. So gorgeous and elegant, standing near his foolish younger brother, like a ray of sunshine in the darkness. Girls like that would never go out with a Death Painting and he didn’t want to suffer, looking at you every day and knowing he’d never be able to hold you.

But all the others agreed to give you a chance and now you were in the band, blowing them away every day with your voice. Choso was a bit envious of Geto who sang together with you, but he’d never admit that either.

“Sounds sick”, Sukuna put the drumsticks away and exhaled, sweat running down his face and lower, tracing the muscular neck and disappearing somewhere under the black shirt, in the area of his broad chest. “If you keep going like that, sweetheart, we’ll crush that gig tomorrow and will most probably get a contract”.

You smiled broadly and took a bottle of water, taking a big sip. So far, you were enjoying the band a lot. Of course, looks from Choso were kind of unnerving but you got used to them. Actually, you were a bit disappointed he was acting so hostile. Because he was definitely your type and you could tell right away he was much smarter than this loudmouth named Sukuna. Hell, Choso might even be smarter than Geto in some ways. Yet, he decided to avoid you and you had no choice but to adjust to his tactics and play it cool.

“Thanks”, you put the bottle back without looking and your fingers brushed against someone’s hand. A jolt of electricity washed over you, sending heat to your cheeks and making your heart race.

“Sorry”, Choso mumbled, jerking the hand away and not even looking at you. 

You just nodded, stealing a glimpse of his heavily tattooed forearm. Ugh. Why did that man have to be so… distant and unapproachable?

In Choso’s mind, thoughts were racing, though. More than everything did he want to pin you to the wall and kiss you right there in front of everyone. But he couldn’t allow himself even to think of that. Instead, he grabbed the guitar, nodded a quick “bye” to everyone and left without a word.

“What’s wrong with him?”, you finally asked as you and Yuji stepped on the street. The kid offered to walk you home and obviously you agreed. Itadori had that sweet, golden retriver vibe about him which made people relax.

Caught off guard with your question, Yuji turned his face away, blushing a bit.

“Uh… nothing. It’s nothing”.

“Hey wait”, you grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn. “What’s happening? I feel really uncomfortable going out there on stage when one band member seems to hate me or whatever”.

“Damn girl, he is crazy about you”, Yuji mumbled, visibly displeased with the fact that I forced him to tell the truth. “But Cho will never admit that. He thinks he is not good enough or something. Listen, sweetheart, just sing this concert with us and then you guys sort this out. Pretty please? All of us want that contract badly”.

“Crazy about me?!”

Your face burned hot red and your mind got instantly flooded with… visions. Like Choso gripping you tight instead of holding to his guitar. Or Choso putting these magic fingers of his to real work because you have seen him giving out the wildest riffing without even trying much. 

“Yo, you listening?”

You blinked slowly and nodded.

“All right… This one gig and then we’ll see”.

***

The club is so full of people it’s hard to breathe and for a moment, you forget where you are and who your band members are. Out of nowhere, Sukuna appears and drags you to a small dark room that appears to be your band’s dressing room.

“Shit, Geto is out of voice”, Sukuna mumbles as he keeps your hand in his. His palm is stiff and hard, much like the rest of his body but it feels… weird. Foreign, even.

Then, something hot and oh so familiar touches you.

“Let her go, Ryo”.

Choso’s hand lands on yours and suddenly, the world around feels like home. 

“Chill, big boy”.

Sukuna doesn’t even seem intimidated but rather amused. He lets go off your hand reluctantly, brushing your inner palm with his fingertips. The movement feels electric but doesn’t really ignite anything in you and he seems to notice it. Sukuna’s brows rise and he chuckles softly, looking amused.

Choso, on the other hand, tries to act distant and cool but fails miserably. Now, knowing his secret, you notice all subtle little things that give away his fondness: the way he keeps his gaze on you or the way he moves around you. The air between you two feels hot but neither makes a move.

It’s not time yet.

You finally spot Geto who waves faintly and smiles.

“Sorry”, he whispers, “no back vocals today. I caught cold or something”.

His words sent a chill down your spine. No back vocals? No support? But you are not ready and you are not sure you can carry this out alone…

“You got this, okay?”, Geto whispers and smiles at you. “Stay cool”.

Woah. Easier said than done.

***

Everything around you feels surreal. The stage, the music around, people’s faces surrounding all your view… You feel this moment - now it’s time to sing and you start, pouring words right from your heart, into the crowd, weaving them in the air and making everything tingle and burn…

Suddenly, an angelic voice sounds in unison with yours.

“What the…”

The back vocals sound perfect. No, they sound just right. As if the person singing was your long lost twin flame, finally finding their voice and resonating with you with all their might. Happy and excited, you take a higher note and the voice unmistakably goes higher, supporting you in every note.

You manage to look to the side. Geto and Sukuna seem bewildered and surprised, their eyes wide open. Yuji beams happily because…

…Because his older brother Choso plays the guitar and sings as your back vocalist?!

 Choso’s voice is everything yours is not: primal, deep, and velvet-ish. His voice is dripping poison that makes people’s minds go blank. But for you, it’s a siren’s song, luring you into the depths of Choso’s heart.

It’s like he is calling you home and you are more than willing to come.

***

Choso’s breath is hot, melting your earlobe. He bites it lightly, marking you as his all the way down to your collarbones and lower, where the linen of your shirt meets the sweat of your skin.

The concert has ended a long time ago, with the first contract for your band and more to come in the future. While the boys are busy negotiating, Choso drags you down from the stage, not even looking at all the longing faces in the crows.

“Mine”, he growls deep as he pushes you against the wall.

“Cho”, you manage to exhale and this soft whisper drivers him crazy. He grabs your hands even tighter, making it impossible for you to move even an inch.

“I don’t care”, he growls, pushing himself closer to you, “but for tonight at least, mine”.

“I don’t..” you start saying and he stops immediately, ready to back up, hurt visible in his eyes. Will you push him away? Are you disgusted by the Death Painting?

Was he imagining you might ever be interested in him?

“I don’t mind making it forever”, you smile and he relaxes, his whole body going limp with happiness. But a second later, he attack your lips and neck again, feral and voracious.

“My songbird”, he mumbles, exploring your body with his skillfull fingers and making you melt and burn under his touch. “My lucky charm”.

That was a damn good audition for joining a band, you manage to think before your mind goes blank.

[tomblythismyhusband]

not an act [tomblyth x actress!reader]

[summary]: tomblyth x actress!reader|anon request| You and Tom reveal true feelings for eachother one day on your movie set and months later you finally decide to hard launch your relationship.

[warnings]: 18+, MDNI, age gap [22+29], language,

[wc]: 2k

[note]: thank you for the request!! it was so fun writing something a bit different! It’s kinda short but wtv :)

You’d been filming this movie for weeks now. Scenes were pretty tame so far, what you’d expect from a romcom. Picnics, breakups, standing out in the rain with nothing but shivering bones and a love confession.

Your co-star wasn’t too bad either. You were working with Tom Blyth, an attractive Britis h actor who had been in a few movies before you. He was much more experienced with this whole thing. While every aspect of the movie making process excited you, Tom was much more accustomed.

You sat in your trailer, sipping hot tea while checking your schedule for the day. The warm liquid slid down and soothed your throat from the scene work of the day prior. Your quiet was soon interrupted by a sharp tapping at the door.

You lifted your head. “Come in.” You called.

The assistant director, Amy walked in, clipboard in hand, hair in a loose knot at the base of her neck. She looked frazzled- but to be fair she always did.

“Good morning, Amy.” You smiled, placing down your tea and coffee on the little kitchenette counter that took up a good portion of the trailer’s interior.

Amy gave you a brief smile, whipping out her clipboard so it was in front of her. She lifted one of the paper’s, reading something then met your gaze again.

“We’re doing the sex scene today.” She said, scribbling a note on one of her papers.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to pick up your schedule again. Your eyes skimmed it quickly, not seeing any words alluding to a sex scene anywhere.

“Amy, I don’t have that on my schedule..” You said looking up from your paper in confusion.

When you looked up Amy was hurriedly typing away on her phone, preoccupied. She didn’t seem to hear you or your concerns.

You cleared your throat. “Amy.”

Amy’s eyes shot to you, wide and attentive. “Yes love?” She said, though you knew her mind was on something else.

You held up your schedule, displaying it for her. “I don’t see that a sex scene is scheduled to film anywhere on here.”

Amy gave you a bored look, almost like she was just remembering how new you were to the movie making process.

“Yes- well, plans change. So get your robe on and get to wardrobe and hair and makeup.” With that her phone rang, so she placed it up to her ear and walked out of your trailer without another word.

You were left speechless, schedule still held up. You put it down, anxiety starting to bubble in your gut. You’d never filmed an explicit scene before. You knew when you auditioned for the film there was a sex scene but you were so eager to have a big break that you agreed to anything.

Your mind then drifted to Tom.

A sex scene. With him.

You couldn’t deny the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous- the way most Hollywood actors were. The director had said you and Tom’s chemistry was impeccable, so working with him was always pretty lax. Sometimes you’d find yourself blushing or giggling with him and realize- you weren’t acting. Tom was the type of guy that could make anything a joke and you liked that about him.

You would totally hit on him more if it weren’t for- well- the age gap. That was the only factor that was constantly bringing you back to reality. While Tom was 29 you were a whopping 22. You didn't even start drinking legally till this year. You doubted that Tom would even want a relationship with someone so young anyways.

You sighed, grabbing the fluffy white robe that hung neatly on the door of the bathroom and slipped it on. This was your job.

You pulled on some shoes as well and opened the creaky door of your trailer, the summer air instantly warming your face.

The romcom took place at a beach house. Two people, Tom and you, find themselves to have had a booking mishap where they mistakenly have to share a beach cottage on vacation. They hate each other at first, but then obviously through sharing a long beach vacation they end up falling in love. You doubted a situation like that could ever occur, but hey- that’s the fun of movies right?

You made it to the wardrobe, where they gave you a nice light blue bikini and a sarong. Next you headed to hair and make up where they styled your hair in waves along with light minimal makeup.

Finally, you stepped down the steep steps of the makeup trailer and walked along the sand to the beach cottage. It was a cute little thing- nice and quaint, full of natural light, secluded. As you walked to the house you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

You knew the basic rundown of the scene. Tom’s character sees your character getting ready to go to the beach. Unable to reach her back to lather with sunscreen, she asks Tom’s character to help her. Tom’s character does so- (the tension unbearable at this point) and then boom, what do you know? Now he’s kissing the shit out of her, as she pulls him into bed.

Of course you’d kissed Tom so far throughout this movie but picturing him on top of you was a thought that could make you blush.

You arrived at the house and props were already setting the area. You walked in and made your way to the bedroom where you spotted Tom getting a rundown of the scene from an intimacy coordinator. When you walked in, Tom's eyes flicked to you.

He seemed to be surprised- or was that impressed? You couldn’t read his expression, but all you knew is that the bikini you had to wear definitely flattered you.

“Sorry I’m a bit late- I had no idea we were filming this scene today.” You said breathlessly. The intimacy coordinator waved a dismissive hand.

“You're okay, I just started to go over everything.”

You then stood next to Tom as the intimacy coordinator gave a whole spiel about how the scene would play out. It was simple enough, a lot like how most sex scenes would go.

Towards the end she directed her gaze to you. “Now, in this scene we were thinking of having your breasts exposed, is that alright? I know on your contract you said you were okay with it but I just would like to double check.”

You opened your mouth, thinking. Finally you nodded. “Yes that’s fine.”

“Great!” The coordinator smiled. “Now that you guys are all set I’ll go let the director know we’re ready.” She then walked off leaving Tom and I alone.

You glanced at him, nervous, but reassured at the fact you were both professional.

“Nice bikini.” Tom said, glancing at you. Your cheeks warmed at the compliment.

“Thanks.. nice shorts.” You nodded looking down at the Hawaiian print swim shorts he was sporting at the moment. Tom chuckled, running his hands through his brown hair.

“Do you… wanna practice the scene?” You asked, tilting your head to look up at him. You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of blush in his cheeks.

“Sure.” He gulped, nodding. “The scene starts up against the wall.” He said slowly, taking your hand and guiding you.

“..Like this?” You whispered, as Tom gently pinned your wrists above your head. You dipped your head staring up at him through your lashes, like you would’ve done if the cameras were rolling.

“Perfect.” He responded in a low voice.

“Now I arch… like this.” You said quietly, extending your back, so your torso was pressed against his, wrists still held securely above your head. Tom took a shuttered breath.

“Now what?” You asked innocently looking up at him. You knew damn well what came next, but you wanted to hear it coming from his perfect lips.

“This.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. You couldn’t suppress the feelings of lust in your body as he kissed you. His lips were soft- so soft. Molded perfectly to yours as if they were always meant to be connected. Though the kiss was nice, you could tell he was holding back.

When you broke from the kiss you looked up at him. Feeling bold you slipped your hands out of the light hold he had on them and cupped his face.

“I’m not acting.” You murmured.

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. His lips pulled into a small smile.

“Thank god- me neither. Now let me do this for real.” He growled.

He pressed up against you, taking his lips onto his own again, kissing you rough and passionate. His tongue slipped into your mouth, meeting your own. Your body felt hot at the sensation. There were definitely sparks, and you knew this was only the beginning.

—— 6 months later ——

“Baby- I’m home.”

You heard the familiar voice of Tom, from your apartment’s front door.

“I’m on the couch!” You called back as you lounged on the plush white sofa that sat in your living room. You lifted your head to see a smiling Tom, his hair all tousled from the outside weather.

He immediately sat down next to you and practically tackled you as he took you into his arms. You laughed as you tried to push him off playfully.

“You're crushing me!” You squealed, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

“Good.” He laughed. You felt Tom squeeze you again, kissing up your body. Finally he let go, leaning back, a love drunk smile on his face.

“So I’ve been thinking…..” Tom prompted, taking one of your hands.

“That’s not good.” You replied playfully. Tom chuckled and squeezed your hand, enjoying your little jokes.

“Seriously though- so you know how our movie premiere is in a few weeks?” He asked, eyes meeting yours.

You nodded. You’d finished filming almost 3 months ago. Finally the movie was close to its release day. You were both excited and nervous for it to come out. You really hoped that it was received well by the public.

Tom looked down at your hands that were wrapped in his own.

“I really want to be by your side on the carpet.”

You hesitated for a moment. “Tom- that’s very much in public.”

He looked up at you. “I know…”

You sighed. “You know how I feel about this… the media.. I mean- I can already picture the things they would say about you dating someone younger than you..”

“Hey.” Tom said calmly, taking your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks in a calming manner. “I totally get what you're saying, and I’m fine if you don’t want to.. but I just want to let you know, I’m ready. I’m ready for the world to know about how much I adore you.”

Your heart thumped in your chest at his words as heat flooded your face. He always knew what to say.

“I want to Tom.. I do… I love you.” You whispered. You then let out a low sigh. “It’s just.. It seems so scary to drop this news in front of the whole world at the premiere..”

Tom gave you a reassuring smile. “We could post a selfie right now- drop the news.”

Your eyes brightened at the idea. It did seem safer to share the news of your relationship from the comfort of your own home. You nodded and nestled closer to Tom as he pulled out his phone, opening the camera app.

You turned your head to kiss his cheek and he snapped a picture. You looked at the smiling photo of Tom and your pose, feeling more confident about the idea.

“Post it.” You smiled, nestling closer into him.

With a quick click of a few buttons Tom posted the photo to his Instagram story. He then placed his phone down and kissed you.

“I don’t care what anyone says- I love you.” He whispered.

“I’ll love you forever.” You whispered back, kissing him again. You felt nervous of course about the fact that your relationship with Tom was now public, but also excited for all the new experiences to come.

[kwanholic]

what about some etl seungkwan?!??! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

enemies to lovers — boo seungkwan

pairing; co-star!seungkwan x afab!reader

genre; enemies to lovers, smut (mdni!!)

word count; 1,9k

warnings; not proofread, making out, protected sex, unprotected sex, idk i haven’t done any warnings in so long help

a/n; tysm for the request!! >< i am actually so sorry for taking mooonths to write this…. i honestly just lost motivation for writing for a little bit but i hope this is good…! (i rewrote this probably a million times)

divider by @/cafekitsune

seungkwan and you, the main couple in the upcoming romance drama. for you, this was your first big role in your time of being an actor. for seungkwan though, this was one of many.

the rest of the cast and the crew thought you had knew each other before, which was true. just not in the way they’d think. you two had known each other since middle school, both dreaming of becoming actors. seungkwan had an upper hand though. he came from an already successful and wealthy family while you were just a nobody.

since you both were young, of course you despised each other. both of you had the same dream, always bickering about who’d become a ‘better actor’.

you thought you wouldn’t see seungkwan ever again after graduating from university, but your wishes were not fulfilled.

you had auditioned for this romantic drama and to your surprise, you had gotten the female lead role. you were truly so happy, celebrating for days about your first major role. until you had the first cast meeting.

your eyes locked with seungkwan, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table. he had that same stupid smirk on his face, the same one he always had while you two argued at school. you had seen seungkwan on tv, always one of the main roles in any drama that aired. you wished you could just forget his face, forget about his existence, but it was too hard with how much he appeared on every screen you had.

there were always news articles about him on your phone, he was in almost every drama, he appeared in every talkshow whenever a new series of his came out. you were sick of him.

and you weren’t even surprised when you looked down, seeing the words ‘male lead’ with big letters on the paper he was holding.

“it’s been so long since i’ve seen you, y/n. have you been well?” he asked you, your eyes darting back up to his face. you wish you could say the same.

“i’ve been alright.” you replied shortly, not wanting to spend your time talking with him. nothing good would come out of it either way. you were so glad that you were a great actor. if not, you probably would quit this job just because of him.

-

a few months into filming

-

“it won’t matter if it’s two or twenty years, my feelings will never change.”

cut! the voice of the director fills the quietness of the room. you sigh and look away, the smile you had quickly erasing from your face as you stand up and walk over to grab a water bottle.

“their chemistry seems so good, do you think they used to date in the past or something?” you hear some of the crew members whispering next to you. you roll your eyes and place the bottle back down onto the ground. you walk back and sit back down to where you were earlier. you can’t lie to yourself, your on-screen chemistry seems so real, it even got yourself thinking if you got some secret crush on him that you hadn’t noticed.

seungkwan suddenly rehearsing his lines startled you, getting you out of your trance. you stared at him, almost like trying to figure something out. was the tension between you two just jealousy? you sighed and looked away, just in time as the director told you to get back in your spots to continue filming.

-

after the filming

-

you were already walking away from the set, thanking everyone for the day like always. usually seungkwan would be the first one out the door, but this time he waited just to leave at the same time as you. you thought he had already left, but he was just sitting in a corner, waiting until you’d leave.

it startled you, how he just appeared next to you. “gosh! what are you doing?” you asked, an irritated look on your face. “thought i’d leave with you. it’ll help with our on-screen chemistry if we try to spend time together, won’t it?” he replied, looking so calm it annoyed you even more.

you just rolled your eyes, letting him walk beside you. “should i bring you home? it’s pretty late already.” he talked. you really wanted to say no, but with all these people around, you didn’t want to make a scene. it’d be hard to say no to him too, he’d make you do it either way. so you accepted his offer, walking over to his car.

you were barely in the car when he started talking again. “i saw you looking at me earlier at set. what were you thinking about?” you looked up at him, not sure whether you should lie or tell the truth.

“wouldn’t you want to know?” you just said, choosing to not answer. he just scoffed, not asking any more questions. the ride to your house was quiet, the only sounds in the car being the sound of the rain hitting the car roof and windows.

soon, you’d already be at home, quickly getting out of the car to get rid of him. but to your surprise, he got out too.

“what are you doing?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“i just want to walk you to your front door.” he replied.

“it’s right there, i don’t need assistance from you… the ride here was enough.” you said, turning your back and walking towards your house. of course he wouldn’t listen. in just a few steps he was behind you and placing his hand on your lower back. the feeling of his hand there sent shivers throughout your body, but you didn’t want to confess that you liked it. you hated it. you hated him. right?

now, at your front door, he still didn’t leave. even when you opened the door and walked in, he still didn’t leave.

“are you going to stay there or leave?” you asked, your hand on the doorknob, about to close the door. you hated him. he was so predictable.

his feet stepped inside your house, the door closing behind him. you stared at him, brows furrowed once again and a frown on your face. you blinked and you were pinned against the wall, his face inches apart from yours. and he kissed you. his soft, warm lips on yours, kissing you slowly but with so much passion.

“we should practice.” he said as he pulled away. practice? was he crazy?

you pushed at his chest, annoyed. “if you want practice, then do it properly.” you said, voice quiet and unsure, but his lips back on yours made you sure.

it was more passionate, messier, more lustful this time. his hands slid down your body, down to rest on your ass. he pulled away, eyes dark. “where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

soon, you were pushed down on your soft bed, seungkwan crawling on top of you. he looked completely different in your softly lit room and his face hovering over yours, just inches away. it was like suddenly, your whole view of him changed. he wasn’t the annoying guy from your class anymore. he was older, more matured, and much better looking. it felt like an eternity while you stared at him and he slowly grew too impatient, pulling you into another kiss.

his hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up, having to pull away from the kiss to pull it off of you. his breathing still heavy, he stared at your white lacy bra. deciding he was too impatient, he just pulled it down to reveal your boobs, nipples already hardened and perky.

he bent down to get one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking on it while his hand played with the other one not getting the same attention from his mouth. it felt so good, how his mouth softly sucked and bit on your breasts, making you let out breathy moans and whimpers.

you tugged on his hair, as if telling him to stop and touch you already. he pulled away from your breast with a pop sound as he let go. you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off easily and revealing his toned abs. they were glistening from sweat, and the light of the streetlights that came in through your curtains gave you a perfect view.

he started unbuckling his belt while you pulled down your own pants, revealing your panties that already had an embarrassingly big wet patch on them. as he finally got his belt open, he pulled down his pants and underwear at the same time, his hard cock hitting his lower stomach.

“you have any condoms?” he asked, his voice sounding a little unsure, even though his facial features looked confident and composed.

you nodded, reaching over to your bedside table and pulling out a condom. you handed it over to him and he quickly ripped it open, rolling it onto his member.

he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulled them down with one quick tug, the sudden cold air hitting your core making you shiver.

he made eye contact with you as he lined up his tip to your hole, slowly pushing in. the stretch felt so good, a perfect amount of both pain and pleasure.

slowly, his thrusts started speeding up to a constant rhythm, his balls hitting your skin and filling the room with slapping noises alongside with your moans.

you had seen sex scenes in movies that seungkwan had acted in, but you didn’t think he would be this good. the real him was far from the characters he played, he was way better like this, and maybe you could even get used to this.

suddenly he groaned, pulling out of you quickly. you silently whimpered at the empty feeling, watching his annoyed expressions.

suddenly, he pulled off the condom, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder and pushing back into you. you moaned loudly at the feeling of him inside of you, but this time you could feel all of his veins dragging against your walls as he thrusted in and out.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but it felt so good, and so did he. you noticed how even his groans started getting louder after getting the rubber off him and feeling you raw.

you felt the coil in your stomach tighten and you gripped the sheets under you, moaning out.

“i-i’m going to cum-“ you said, voice breaking from how good you were feeling.

he gripped your waist and looked you in the eyes, a small smirk appearing on his face. “do it, cum for me, baby”, he said.

your orgasm hit you like a wave hitting a cliff. the way he said the word baby made you roll your eyes back as you came, painting his cock white with your juices.

he kept thrusting until he finally reached his limit, pulling out just before his climax to shoot his cum onto your stomach.

he slowly pulled out and laid down next to you, both of your breathing heavily.

you stared up at the ceiling, mind still hazy from your orgasm. different thoughts roamed in your head, mostly thinking, what just happened?

having sex with someone you hated wasn’t something you could have ever imagined, but did you regret it? no, not really.

seungkwan turned his head to look at you, and soon, you felt his arms wrapping around you.

“i know you’re overthinking, just stop it, we can talk about it later…” he talked, his voice a little bit deeper and noticeably exhausted.

he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making your body relax. you sighed, not replying to him. you were still confused, but he promised to talk about it, that was enough.

you closed your eyes and quickly drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Operation: Doctor Support

Series: Sticking the Landing (see fic Masterlist for additional parts)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Harvey/fem!Reader

Summary: The doctor spent all his time looking after other people. It was about time someone did something for him.

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Harvey looked tired.

You noticed it at the saloon as you were finishing a beer. It’d been a long day. Long week. Long month? It was all blurring together. Hauling pumpkins, seeing to the cows, chopping wood because winter was just around the corner. You earned your beer, is the thing.

Harvey looked like he’d earned a dozen.

He was the closest thing you had to a friend here in Stardew Valley. You’d bonded over being from elsewhere, over loving good coffee, over shared tastes in movies (Jackie Chan, of all things). Mostly it was just nice to know that when you got a little over-enthusiastic with the scythe you could trust the person who was patching you up. Dependable Harvey, always there to lend a hand.

You were glad you didn’t need any help that night, though, watching him in his booth. He was leaning over a bowl of pumpkin soup, head in a hand, eyes shadowed. His hair was messier than usual, tie crooked.

“How’s it going?” you said by way of greeting as you slid in across from him.

“Oh, hello there.” He seemed to brighten a bit upon seeing you, which sparked a bit of warmth in his stomach. “Just trying to get a meal in before I get back at it.”

“Back at what? It’s 7pm.”

“Audit.” He grimaced.

“Audit? Doctors get audited?”

“Doctors get audited. Gotta make sure all the billing codes are…” he waved a hand, trying to find the word.

“Up to code?”

He smiled. Score one for your bad jokes. “Exactly. I have to get reports together for tomorrow afternoon, but I had some last minute appointments come up for tomorrow morning, and Maru’s been out for a few days, and then there’s cold and flu season starting to ramp up, so…” he waved his hand again.

“Busy Harvey?”

“Busy Harvey.” He let a long breath. “But, needs must and all. So I better get back to it.” He started to get up.

“Aren’t you going to finish your soup?”

He shrugged. “Not that hungry. Enjoy your evening.” You watched him get up and leave. Or at least try to. Marnie stopped him halfway to the door, waved him over, showed him something on her arm. Was she… was she asking him to look at a mole?

As much as you admired his willingness to stop and chat, you couldn’t shake a flash of annoyance. The doctor spent all his time looking after other people. It was about time someone did something for him.

—————

Operation: Doctor Support launched a few days later. It was late Saturday afternoon. You’d finished your scheduled chores (and a dozen more besides), taken a shower, dressed comfortably, and assembled your toolkit.

One jar of pickles.

One container of homemade curry chicken soup (your specialty).

One loaf of sourdough bread.

One bottle of blueberry wine.

One DVD (Drunken Master, obviously).

One knit hat. You hand knit it. It looked… hand knit. But you’d tried, dammit.

You pulled your kit together in a bag and headed towards town.

Twenty minutes later you were gazing up at Harvey’s apartment. The door to the clinic was locked, and you didn’t see him in the saloon or Pierre’s. You were contemplating picking up a pebble to throw at his window when you heard a familiar voice.

“Good afternoon!” It was Harvey, coming back from a walk if his reddened cheeks were any indication (it was a cold day, even for November).

“Just the man I’m looking for. Voila!” You brandished the bag.

“Fernald’s Country Store,” he said slowly, reading the words on the outside of the tote.

“No, no, it’s inside the bag. Let me up, I’ll show you.”

“Fair enough.”

The walk seemed to have done Harvey good. His eyes seemed a little brighter than when you last saw him, at least. He unlocked the clinic and you led the way to his apartment.

It was a space you were comfortable with, having been there several times in the past to watch movies and drink coffee. With the late afternoon darkening it was hard to see, but you knew where to feel for the light switch.

Moving past the bookshelves and a line of model planes, you made for the kitchen. Harvey followed, a slightly amused look on his face.

“You’re a lady on a mission.”

“I am! Announcing Operation: Doctor Support!”

“Operation… what?”

But you were too busy unpacking, showcasing each item as you pulled it out of the bag, doing your best gameshow announcer voice. “We have…. A bottle of wine! A jar of pickles! A loaf of bread! A container of soup! A DVD! And a hat.” You dropped the affect for the last one. The hat looked particularly mediocre in the fluorescent kitchen light. You looked up at him. “I made you a hat.”

Harvey looked back at you, lips slightly parted. “You made me… a hat?”

“Um, yes.”

“And you brought me dinner?”

“And a movie,” you added helpfully. You couldn’t quite read his tone.

“And a movie,” he repeated, stepping closer to the items you had fanned out on the counter. He reached for the hat first. Rubbed the wool between his fingers. Picked it up and settled it on his head. It didn’t look so bad, with his brown waves springing out from beneath it. “No one’s ever made me a hat before.”

“I’m glad I got to be your first.” You noticed the slightest tinge of a blush on his cheeks, though that may have been left over from his walk.

“Thank you.” He said. “Really. Thank you. What brought all this on?”

You shrug. “You seemed like you could use a little taking care of.”

And before you could register the movement, Harvey’s arms were around you, wrapping you in a hug. You did what you could to hug him back, but with the way he was trapping your arms by your side the best you could do was pat the curve of his back. “Thank you,” he said again, voice the slightest bit tight. You could feel his breath soft on the side of your face.

You didn’t move, just stayed there, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you, the faint scent of something clean and woodsy coming from his sweater. He was warm, solid, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose into the side of his neck. Just a little.

“You’re welcome, Harvey. You deserve it.”

He took in a deep, slightly shaky breath, then let you go. For a second you wished he didn’t, but then shook yourself. Clapped your hands. “Right. Dinner. You go sit down and relax while I get this heated up!”

“Aye aye, captain,” he responded with a mock salute. He was still wearing the hat as he settled in on the couch.

Dinner was easy to heat up, and you were pleased with how the soup came out. You started the movie while you ate, turning down the lights, sharing bits of trivia as Jackie Chan stumbled around his enemies. It was so comfortable, then, to lean against him on the couch in the semi-darkness, both of you holding a glass of wine. He put his arm on the back of the couch as you leaned against his chest.

You could feel his heart beating, faster than you would think it would.

And it made you wonder about phase two of Operation: Doctor Support.

Phase two was optional, only if it seemed right. It might change things a little, you knew. It was a little risky, but some things were worth the risk.

Some things like the doctor next to you, whose nose was very subtly, very gently rubbing against your hair.

Okay. That’s going to count as a green light. Let’s do this.

You placed your wine glass on the side table. Took Harvey’s and set it down too. He looked at you a little startled at your unexpected movement, but oh boy, you were just getting started. You rolled up onto your knees, swung a leg over his, and settled, facing him, into his lap.

His hands came up automatically to hold your hips, then just as quickly left them. “I… what?”

“Commence phase two,” you said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

At first he didn’t move, just made a slightly choked sound and your stomach sank. Shit. Should have just stuck with the hat. But then his hand was on the side of your face and he was kissing you back. Soft, gentle presses of his lips against yours. His thumb traced along your cheekbone as you pressed your mouth into his, humming contentedly.

“Are you… are… really?” he breathed as you broke the kiss.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“If I… hah,” he laughed softly, leaning his head back against the couch. You took the opportunity to press a kiss to the pulse point you could see thrumming on the side of his neck. He gasped, hips bucking up against yours just a little, hand moving back into your hair. “I… I certainly wouldn’t say I minded.”

“Good, now let me take care of you.”

There was no mistaking the low groan he made at that, or the way his lap was shifting under you. You set in properly this time, rising up on your knees to reach his mouth again. This time you parted your lips, felt yourself clenching slightly at the way he opened for you easily, moaning softly as you slicked into his mouth. His mustache tickled at your nose as you kissed him, and his hands had found their way back to your hips. They rested there loosely, not pushing, just holding as you delved deeper into him.

He tasted like blueberry wine.

You broke the kiss with a soft nip to his lower lip. “How are you feeling?”

“A little stunned, but good, good, definitely very good,” and now his hand was in your hair, pulling you back to him, and that was absolutely the kind of response you were looking for. You hummed into the kiss, trying to fight your pleased smile as he licked into you. You wiggled in his lap and enjoyed the way he hissed through his nose.

The bulge you could feel under your thighs didn’t hurt either.

“Good is good,” you gasp, breaking away again, “but we’re going for excellent. Here.” You removed his hand from your hair, dragged it down to your breast.

“That…” he gasped. “That certainly elevates things.” And before you could respond, before you could realize, really, what was going on, you were on your back and Harvey, dear, sweet, gentle, reliable Doctor Harvey was raised up over you, propped up on one elbow, one leg tucked between your thighs.

“Oh,” was all you could think to say.

Harvey didn’t say anything. He was too busy laving your neck with his tongue, leaving soft, gentle bites while his fingers worked over your breast, gently teasing your rapidly hardening nipple.

Well that… that’s not how the operation was supposed to go. But Yoba, it felt good, his body heavy over you, his teeth and tongue scraping over your neck, the soft sounds he made as he worked. You pulled the hat off his head, ran your fingers through his hair, held him there.

In your mind he had stayed put, letting you slowly work down his body before finishing with the best damn blow job he’d ever been given. But now the opposite was happening, he was kissing down onto your chest now and fuck, if this wasn’t so, so much better. You couldn’t help but cry out as he mouthed at your nipple through your shirt. He looked up quickly at the sound. Even in the dim light of the TV, even through his glasses you could see that his eyes were blown dark.

“Is it�� is that okay? Is this alright?”

“Harvey, it’s fucking perfect,” you say. He grinned, shockingly boyish, and why had you never done this before? You pulled off his glasses, set them back in the side table behind you, and guided his mouth back down. He went eagerly, fingers now working up beneath your shirt, mouth now over your other breast, mouthing and teasing. You felt it in your core, the way his fingers traced over your stomach, the sounds he made as he nuzzled you, and why is this stupid shirt on anyway?

You did your best to wiggle it up over your torso, bralette too, Harvey helping as soon as he realized what you were doing. After he tossed the clothing aside he paused for a second, looking down at you.

“You’re… Yoba.” He let out a shaky laugh. “This is not how I expected my evening to go”

“Me either.”

He drew back slightly. “What do you mean?”

You wound your arm up around his shoulder, pulled him back down onto you. His lips brushed the side of your neck. “You were supposed to sit still and let me do all this for you.”

“What,” he asked, hand now cupping your breast, “makes you think that this isn’t for me?”

You didn’t have a good answer for that. Didn’t have a good answer for anything, really, because his hand was wandering lower and all rational thought had left your brain.

Was he… fuck, yes he was. He stopped at the waistband of your leggings, traced a finger along the edge. You felt him swallow against your neck. “Can… can I?”

“Yes, yup, absolutely, one hundred percent,” you respond, fighting the urge to grab his hand and guide it down for him. “Just, wait, here.” You grabbed at the sweater he was wearing instead, tried to get it up over his head. He maneuvered, helping to take it off the rest of the way (so helpful, that Harvey), then settled back down on top of you.

You couldn’t help but sigh, wiggle your hips as his warm chest nestled back against yours. His chest was broad, arms just a little thicker than what you could see under his usual suit jacket. Curly hair dusted down over his softly rounded stomach, down to where his belt cut across his hips.

“You feel nice,” you said.

“So do you.” He hummed into your neck.

The couch wasn’t particularly wide, but you were making it work, nestled between the doctor and the cushions. His hand was back on your stomach, drifting lower as you ran your fingers over his shoulders and dropped kisses on the top of his head. His fingers traced the top of your leggings - again - the light touch making your lower stomach clench. You realized you were growing wet, could feel it as you shifted your hips back and forth, and okay, this was supposed to be your show, right? Let’s get it on the road.

You placed your hand over Harvey’s, guided it down under your leggings and underwear, pressed down on his middle finger to run it through your folds.

“Fuck,” he gasped. You could feel his hips thrust, that hard bulge against your legs, once, twice. “Fuck, you’re… fuck.” And he didn’t need any more guidance, seemed perfectly happy to be running the pad of his fingers up and down your sex. The lack of resistance, the way his fingers slipped - shit, okay, clearly phase two absolutely needed this step, what were you thinking, because he was shuddering just a bit as he pressed his face into your neck. And the way his breaths were coming, slightly choked?

Yoba.

“I want to make you come.” He said it so softly, mustache tickling the side of your neck. “Can I make you come?”

What a ridiculously sweet thing to ask as his fingers were already stroking over your folds. “I don’t think there’s much question about it at this point,” you said. “Don’t stop.”

He huffed into your neck, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and his fingers were focusing more on your clit, tiny circles but it wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t get the right angle with your leggings trapping his hand. “Let me just-“ you start, but he was right there with you, helping you pull them down and off. From there it was easy to throw a leg up over his hip as he curled back around you.

His fingers were back, then, back and moving, sending coils of tension up through your core. He set about his work with purpose, as it seemed he set about most things. Tracing his fingers up and down the side of your clit, stopping when he hit a point that made your hips buck up.

“Right there, he whispered, “that’s it, right there.” And holy shit, how could you respond to that when he’d discovered a direct line from your clit through your core to the rest of your body? Those tiny circles again, the lightest pressure, the curls of pleasure spreading through your thighs, your stomach, your shoulders. You could feel your self getting wetter now, slipperier as his fingers worked against you.

And from there it wasn’t long before you were rising, hips straining, mouth open in a wordless cry as his fingers, his hand, his breath against your neck was too much. You stayed tensed there, muscles straining, orgasm rocketing through you as those fingers kept rubbing, kept circling, kept drawing you up and up and up, tense and sweet and endless, Yoba, it was endless, that tension, until finally it broke, letting you down, warm and soft and deep through your belly and you were through, hips relaxing, shoulders boneless as you melted back into the couch.

Holy shit.

Harvey’s fingers had slowed, stopped. His hand cupped your sex. “Alright?”

You covered your face with a hand. Laughed. “Alright? Are you joking? I am so much better than alright!” He laughed into your neck. You swat him gently on the shoulder. “That was supposed to be for you!”

“Again,” he said. “What makes you think this wasn’t for me?”

Yoba, this man.

But no. You were a lady on a mission, and if you were the type to take half-measures you’d still be sitting in a cubicle. “Okay,” you said. “Move.”

“Move?” You were shaking off the post-orgasm slack, wiggling out from under him, helping him haul his body up to sitting, sliding down to the floor, enjoying the sound he made as you ghosted your hand over the bulge near his crotch. You could see it there, outlined against his jeans, and fuck if the sight didn’t make you more determined than ever. You knelt there for a moment, palm pressed against that bulge, rubbing softly through the denim.

You could see his belly rising, even as you focused on his crotch. Could hear him taking in breaths, choking slightly on the exhale. Could feel his hand rest gently on the side of your neck, lift back up, settle back in again.

“You don’t… you don’t have to…”

“Harvey,” you said, looking up at him. His head was leaning back on the couch, but there was no question he was watching you. Lips parted, chest rising. “Let me look after you. Just for a bit. Please.”

He closed his lips. Nodded. Stroked his thumb down your cheek. “Thank you.”

You smiled up at him, resting your hand on his belt buckle. “What makes you think this isn’t for me?”

He huffed again, that sound of his, that laugh and groan, and lifted his hips as you unbuckled, unzipped, guided his pants and boxers down around his feet, leaving his cock to spring free.

If you’d been in a more coherent frame of mind you would have reflected on the sight, the incongruity of seeing the doctor, always so polished, shirts ironed and tie done up tight, splayed out for you like that. Cock pulsing, wet around the tip, thick and long and utterly perfect. The way his head was leaning back again on the sofa, huffing breaths between pursed lips, looking tense and needy and exactly the opposite of the brisk and efficient man you knew.

But you weren’t in a coherent state of mind, so the only thing you thought was “yum.”

You watched a small pearl of precum leak from the head of his cock.

You licked it away. Salty and hot.

Harvey hissed.

You licked again, running your tongue around his head, closed your lips around the tip, circling. You could feel his hand touch your hair as you did it, touch and let go. You grabbed at it, anchored it down onto your head. Grinned to yourself as he choked out another moan, hips bucking up an inch and then grounding back down.

Show time.

You’d be lying if you said that you were the most seasoned giver of head, but based on Harvey’s reactions you doubted that was much of an issue. You grasped the base of his cock, squeezed gently, then with a little more pressure as he moaned. Loosening your jaw as best as you could (he wasn’t a small man, that doctor, and his cock was certainly proportional), you slid your lips down, hollowing your cheeks, meeting the top off your fist.

Harvey’s fingers were in your hair properly now, carding through the strands, not pushing you down but holding you there, holding on as you drew your mouth up and down his cock. You could feel the strain in his hips, tiny little jerks upwards, tensing as he held himself back. You wanted to tell him to go for it, to buck and move however he wanted, but his cock was so good, so heavy and hot and delicious in your mouth that you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

So you did what you could to work him deeper. Sucking him in further, grasping with your thumb and two fingers now, relishing the hitch in his hips, the way his fingers tightened, the sounds he was making low in his throat. The tiny thrusts growing less measured, most staccato, off kilter and speeding up. He was tasting saltier as you tried to work him farther back into your mouth, suddenly desperate to know what he’d feel like hitting the back of your throat. You relaxed as much as you could, let yourself fall down into him, gusting through your nose as you welcomed him back, back, further, deeper -

And all of his sudden his hands were clenching into your hair, pulling you up a your mouth flooded with warm, thick, salty release. You’d fully intended to swallow what he gave you, but he was pulling you off of him as he came, hand joining your fingers on his cock, pumping once, twice as he came onto your chin and open mouth.

The sound he made was exactly what you’d been hoping for. Low, wrecked. His fingers working through your hair as you felt him loosen, melt back into the couch.

You looked him in the eye. Ran a finger up your chin to collect the thick spend dripping there. Pushed it in your mouth and swallowed.

“Yoba,” he rasped, “Yoba, you’re… fuck, you’re incredible. Fuck.” And it was easy, then, to follow the press of his hands, now under your arms, pulling you up to him. Straddle his legs again, feeling his cock, still hot and wet and heavy, under your thighs. Let him wrap his arms around you, kiss you deeply, tasting himself on you.

“How are you feeling now?” You asked as you broke this kiss.

“Indescribable,” was his breathless response.

And as you relaxed into his arms you decided that your mission was very much a success.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:2880

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

By the time you returned, the atmosphere in the gym was electrifying, charged with a palpable tension that permeated every corner of the place. The scoreboard reflected an eerie equality between both teams, which foreshadowed a frenetic outcome. Sweaty and exhausted bodies moved dizzily around the court, each player fighting with all their might to keep the ball in the air, giving up any trace of tiredness. It was a fervent battle, an outpouring of energy that kept everyone on the edge of their seats.

Hinata, with a dazzling heavenly shot, had managed to take his team to the lead, his contagious energy igniting Karasuno and generating murmurs of excitement in the stands. However, Seijoh, with the skill and precision characteristic of their game, was quick to equalize the points, undoing the ephemeral advantage. Uneasiness took hold of you, your skin crawling as you watched each movement with almost hypnotic attention. The voice in your mind, animated and frantic, echoed: “You can do it, I know you can do it” – though the words never came out of your lips.

You gasped when Oikawa, in a moment that should have been critical for his ego, missed a decisive serve. The Seijoh captain, known for his grace and skill, had unintentionally handed a valuable point to his opponent. The pressure on his shoulders was evident, and you could imagine the storm of frustration he must be feeling at failing in a play he traditionally dominated. However, the Seijoh players were tireless, and within minutes, they managed to regain the lost point, reaffirming their determination not to give up in this match.

As the match progressed and each point was added to the tally, your heart beat with an unknown rapidity; you had never felt such an intense connection with a volleyball match. You were completely absorbed, following each play with an almost hypnotic concentration. The tension intensified with the approaching end of the match; only one round remained. 

The ball traveled through the air, finally landing on Karasuno's side. Kageyama, with his sharp gaze and unmatched precision, deftly received it, sending it to Asahi, who, with strength and determination, returned it to Seijoh's court. Seijoh's libero, however, demonstrated his agility and skill, intercepting the ball with ease and bringing it back towards Karasuno's court. 

Hinata tried to break through the defense with a powerful spike, but Seijoh was prepared, blocking the attempt with impressive timing. The ball rose again in a frantic dance, and in an instant that seemed to last forever, Kageyama, Nishinoya and Asahi launched themselves in a united effort to receive it. But time had run out, and the opportunity was lost in the face of fate: the ball hit the ground.

Your eyes widened, disbelief taking over as you took in the, until then, unthinkable defeat. The mix of emotions overwhelmed you: the euphoria of the game, the sadness of the loss, and an undeniable admiration for the effort everyone had put into that contest.

The atmosphere at school felt heavy and oppressive. Hinata hadn’t exchanged a word with you since the game, and though you didn’t blame him, it was clear that he was mired in deep sadness. You understood all too well what it felt like to be dejected; you didn’t feel like socializing either. As you watched the hands of the clock slowly tick away, you realized that you would be spending the break alone this time. Nayuta had skipped class; she had told you over the phone that she wasn’t feeling well. 

“Today is going to be a pretty boring day,” you sighed heavily. Coach Ukai had cancelled practice, leaving you with the afternoon free. You thought you’d use that time to head to the music room. With auditions right around the corner, warming up a bit would do you good. 

You stood up and grabbed your bento, looking for a comfortable spot to eat lunch at school. Your eyes scanned the empty classrooms, longing for something to catch your attention. It was then that you stopped, drawn to the intense gaze of the tall, blonde boy from class 1-4. His golden eyes met yours, a flash of surprise in both of you.

You found yourself staring at him more than you'd like to admit. Just as the intensity of the moment was beginning to envelop you, Yamaguchi's voice snapped you out of your brief trance. You turned to look at him, feeling a sudden relief at the sight of his friendly face.

"Yamaguchi, hello," you greeted.

The young man, adorned with a pair of freckles on his cheeks, turned his gaze to your bento, which your dad had carefully wrapped in a pink handkerchief with daisies on it. "Would you like to have lunch with us?" he asked, accompanying his invitation with a genuine smile as he pointed at Tsukishima, who was still sitting at one of the desks in the classroom.

Your first reaction was to hesitate. If the invitation had come from the blond, you would have felt a rush of embarrassment and nervousness that would have led you to politely decline. However, the kindness emanating from Yamaguchi was so contagious that your heart rebelled, refusing to reject his offer.

 With a slight smile, you decided to accept the invitation. “Sure, I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a light blush creep up your cheeks. The nervousness that had previously gripped you gradually faded, replaced by a warm feeling of camaraderie. 

The two of you entered the empty classroom; Yamaguchi pointed to a seat next to Tsukishima, who remained silent. You felt a little uncomfortable, as if your mere presence irritated him. After a brief moment, however, you chose to ignore that feeling. Yamaguchi took the seat in front of you, and with a friendly gesture, the two of you prepared to share the meal.

Before you began eating, you exchanged a heartfelt “bon appetit” for the meal. The atmosphere in the room, quiet but cozy, allowed you to appreciate the small details you usually overlooked in moments of tension. The walls were adorned with student projects, and the rays of sunlight filtering through the windows gave a warm and pleasant air to the space.

However, once seated, you realized that you had never had the chance to meet Yamaguchi and Tsukishima outside the context of the sports club. A slight feeling of uncertainty came over you; you didn’t know what to talk about. As you began to eat, your eyes moved between your two companions, searching for a thread that could carry the conversation.

It was then that your attention was drawn to Yamaguchi’s handkerchief, which was decorated with designs of different Pokémon. “Does he like Pokémon?” you wondered, feeling that it was a good starting point. “What is your favorite Pokémon?” Hoping that it might open up a pleasant conversation.

 Yamaguchi smiled widely, his face lighting up immediately. He began talking enthusiastically, sharing his knowledge of the franchise and mentioning several Pokémon you hadn’t heard of in a long time. His eyes sparkled as he told stories about each one, and you realized his passion surpassed your own knowledge as a fan. The conversation flowed naturally, and before you knew it, time passed quickly. 

Once they had finished their lunches, Yamaguchi showed you his small collection of Pokémon cards, carefully organized and protected in laminated cardboard. 

“Look at this one! This is my favorite,” he said, holding up a card that shone with vibrant colors. 

Unable to help yourself, you exclaimed, “That looks just like Kenma!” Without thinking, you pointed at the Torracat illustration on the laminated cardboard. 

“Kenma?” Yamaguchi repeated, frowning as he looked at the card, as if he didn’t understand the reference.

“The setter of the Nekoma,” Tsukishima explained, breaking his silence. “The pudding-headed fool,” he added in a lower, sharper tone, averting his gaze elsewhere.

Tsukishima’s comment surprised you and caused an involuntary smile. There was perhaps a hint of jealousy in his tone, but you decided not to think too much about it.

“Ah, the boy Hinata said you liked,” Yamaguchi recalled as he rearranged his cards. A shocked expression was left on your face. How did he know that?

“What Hinata said that!?” You looked at him in bewilderment, feeling confusion and disbelief take over you. That carrot-headed fool.

“He had told us that you liked him. I assumed that from how you talked so animatedly with him and because you seemed to spend a lot of time together,” Yamaguchi explained, visibly flustered by the intensity of your annoyed look. Before you could retort, Tsukishima interrupted him.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he said in a tone meant to be dismissive, and Yamaguchi looked down, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Tsukki,” he apologized, looking down in a gesture that showed his discomfort. His eyes held a slight glint of guilt, and you sighed in frustration.

“I don’t like Kenma,” you explained, crossing your arms in an attempt to convey your seriousness. “I just thought he was cute, that’s all.”

“So, you like him,” Yamaguchi replied with the same certainty as always, as if he were revealing the absolute truth.

“No, just because I think he’s cute doesn’t mean I like him,” you replied firmly, trying to make him understand your position.

“But if you think about it, isn’t it the same thing?” he insisted, his attitude stubborn. “Sometimes, when we find someone we like, we start by thinking that he’s cute...”

“Yeah, but… that’s not the point,” you interrupted, trying to adjust the conversation to your true feelings. “I don’t like him; I’m interested in someone else now.”

Yamaguchi’s question took you by surprise. “Who do you like then?” you frowned, feeling the conversation becoming awkward.

“You piss me off,” you said through gritted teeth, your frustration rising at the insistence.

“Who do you like?” Tsukishima joined in the conversation, his mocking tone ringing in your ears. “As if you didn’t know,” you thought disdainfully.

You sighed, straightening your back in your seat. “I won’t name names,” you stated, eyes narrowing as you cast a challenging glare at the blond beside you. “But he’s a tall, rather sarcastic boy,” you emphasized the last word, hoping the insinuation would be enough.

Yamaguchi brought a hand to his chin, making a thoughtful gesture. “Who could it be?” he murmured, his innocence contrasting with the tension you felt.

Finally, the bell announcing the end of lunch rang through the air, and you quickly said goodbye before standing up and heading towards your classroom.

“Hey, Tsukki, who do you think it could be?” Yamaguchi asked his friend, watching as you walked away through the door.

You rested your head on your mother's shoulder as you both waited for the time to board the plane to Kyoto. Automatically, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to calm the anxiety that was beginning to settle in your chest.

According to the schedule, you would arrive in Kyoto today, just in time to participate in the auditions for the orchestra tomorrow. Yesterday, you had tried to locate Hinata at school to say goodbye, but you were unable to find him. You thought about looking for him at the gym, but the rush to return home prevented you from doing so, leaving you with a slight regret for not having been able to say goodbye properly.

"Calm down, sweetheart," your mother urged, placing a comforting hand on your leg, which was moving nervously up and down. "Yes," you replied, trying to follow her advice.

Turning your gaze to the magazine your mother was reading, you focused on the images of Kyoto's tourist sites, trying to distract your mind. However, as you looked at the beautiful landscapes and temples, a thought crossed your mind: you should return with a couple of gifts for your two best friends. Maybe in Kyoto you would find something that Tsukishima might like as well. With each image you passed, the thought of gifts intertwined with the memory of the conversation you had with him about his date to the festival, making you blush involuntarily.

You glanced at your mother, who was engrossed in her reading and didn't notice the flushed cheeks or the silly smile that adorned your face. You decided it was time to ask her permission so there wouldn't be any awkward questions later on.

"Mom," you called her in your native language, wrapping your arm around hers and putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

"What do you want?" she replied, getting straight to the point, already familiar with the innocent tone you adopted when you needed something.

“You know, the Tanabata festival is coming up and I was wondering if you could give me permission to go,” you asked, choosing your words carefully. “I want to go alone, without my sister or you or dad, just me and…” you paused for a moment, trying to properly categorize Tsukishima in your mind. “Just me and a friend.”

Your mother looked up from the magazine, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “A friend, you say? Sounds interesting. And is that friend someone special?” she hinted, her tone hinting at her curiosity.

“He’s just a friend,” you replied quickly, feeling the blush deepen on your cheeks. However, your mother’s expression, which had turned from surprise to a mix of amusement and expectation, made you hesitate. “It’s just that we like spending time together,” you added, trying to downplay it.

“Sure,” your mother said, a knowing spark in her eyes. “As long as you stay safe and come home at a reasonable hour, I think we can come to an agreement.”

The plane ride was fairly smooth and quick. Kyoto was really different from Miyagi; you were amazed at the number of temples and rich Japanese architecture that surrounded you. You stayed at a lovely hotel in the city center, mainly because your mother had plans to go sightseeing. She was excited to check out the prefecture’s cuisine and sights. You, on the other hand, felt nervous, fidgety even, as you moved your fingers on the small desk in your room, like they were piano keys. You had to do your best tomorrow; you had to make the trip here worth it.

You woke up early in the morning to get ready. Your mother made sure you looked radiant, insisting that a good appearance was key to making a good impression. Stepping onto the university campus, you were struck by the magnitude of the place. When you were led to the auditorium where the auditions would be held, your stomach dropped at how crowded it was. There were many young people your age, and most of them were students from the same high school.

You stood in a corner, holding your mother's hand tightly. You could feel your legs shaking, and at that moment, you completely regretted being there. Just as anxiety began to wash over you, a vibrant buzzing in your pocket made you snap. You quickly reached for your phone; an unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. You quickly apologized to your mother before leaving the room so you could answer it.

"Hello?" you said, trying to regulate your breathing.

"Hello!" a familiar voice answered, full of energy.

"Hinata... is that you?" you asked, feeling a surge of relief at the familiar voice. You lifted the phone from your ear to look at the screen; you thought you had added his number to your contact list, but apparently you hadn't.

“Yeah! It’s me. Well… not just me, the rest of the team is here too,” he explained, and in that instant, a chorus of voices echoed on the other end of the line, shouting a loud “hello!”.

“Oh, hello, guys,” you greeted, waiting for Hinata to explain the reason for the call, as you had to be back soon.

“Well, we were calling to wish you good luck,” Hinata said, his voice softening as other murmurs could be heard in the background.

You stayed silent for a moment, feeling your heart fill with warmth. “That’s really nice, Shoyo.”

“Don’t give me credit, it was Tsukishima’s idea,” Hinata replied, his tone changing to a lower one, followed by a small uproar among the boys. “Here, tell her something!” he insisted, struggling with someone.

“What am I supposed to say?” you recognized Tsukishima’s voice, which sounded somewhat resigned before falling silent.

“Uhm… hello,” he finally said, his voice clearer now. You felt your heart race at the sound of it. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, a little nervous, actually,” you confessed, feeling the mere act of talking to him give you a slight boost of confidence.

“That’s normal,” Tsukishima replied, his tone denoting understanding. “That time when I saw you play in the music classroom, you did amazing.” You can do it.” There was none of the condescending or hateful tone he usually used in his voice, and that pleasantly surprised you.

“Oh, it’s turning red!” Nishinoya’s voice exclaimed from the back, followed by a thump and Tanaka’s laughter, causing a smile to spread across your face.

Your eyes sparkled at his encouraging words. Receiving a compliment from Kei Tsukishima was nothing short of a miracle. The blood rushed to your face, dyeing it a lovely pink. “Thank you, Tsukishima,” you managed to reply, feeling that simple interaction give you a surge of confidence.

“Good luck,” Tsukishima concluded, his voice ringing with sincerity before the call was dismissed with a chorus of well wishes from everyone.

Taglist @hwanghyunjinismybae @keishuii @darthferbert @kittyOsunny @hiqhkey @shoyosyoyo

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness. 

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could. 

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour. 

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now. 

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once. 

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried. 

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant. 

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on. 

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair. 

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv. 

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself. 

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–” 

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use. 

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…” 

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed. 

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction. 

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

[spnjediavenger]

High Notes (Matt Murdock x sister!reader)

Title: High Notes

Type: one-shot; Matt Murdock x sister!reader

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none?

Notes: As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its plot, or characters

Request: this was a loosey-goosey kind of request. Musical sister reader with her practicing being loud in the apartment. I somehow ended up making it partly a comfort fic but hope i did something along the lines of what you were thinking @ricearoni84 ! Sorry it’s kinda short!

Word count: 724

Matt loved his sister. He truly did. And he admired and loved all the talents she possessed. She had far more creative talent than anyone he knew - she could sing, dance, you name it. But on days he had a time crunch to finish up work before a major court case, it was hard to view her talents in that light. 

The intermittent tapping and near-stomping from the next room over seemed to echo in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull and making his brain buzz. And when he thought he got a break from that, Y/n’s voice was the next thing to ring through the apartment. Beautiful as it usually is, it was practically splitting to Matt right now. 

The lawyer tried to focus. He really did. But between the pounding from her dancing and the loudness of her singing, he eventually dropped his things, regained his composure, and went to her room, knocking gently on her door. 

“Starling?” he called in, louder than his knock. Finally, the sound stopped. Heartbeat faster from exertion, slight panting, heat radiating from the moment she opened the door from her flushed face. She was exhausted. 

“What’s up?” Y/n said, a little quickly as she wanted to get back to practicing. 

Matt considered his words carefully. “Why don’t you take a break, Y/n/n? I could feel the heat from your face as soon as you opened the door.”

The girl waved a hand. “I’m fine. Besides, my audition is tomorrow so I need to make sure I have everything down.”

Matt bit his lip a bit. He didn’t want to be selfish and make it about him. But he really needed to get his work done. He turned his head the slightest bit to his abandoned work in the living room before turning back towards his sister.

“Y/n, you’ve been practicing all day. You’re gonna burn yourself out. You need to take a break.”

“You sure you’re not just saying that because you need to work in silence?” Y/n said. Her voice was level but Matt could tell there was a little bit of teasing/sadness in it.

“It’s a little bit of both,” he said, chuckling when she punched his arm. 

Y/n was quiet for a moment before looking down at her hands. Matt could practically hear her thinking. “What is it?”

Y/n sighed through her nose. “I just…I really want this role, Matt,” she said quietly. “I’ve done all kinds of minor productions but this is the first big one I’ve gone for.”

Matt pursed his lips, suddenly feeling bad for stopping her; feeling selfish. But he also wanted to address the insecurity she had with this. He smiled a bit and brushed some hair behind her ear. “You,” he said, tapping her nose. “Are more talented than anyone I know. You’ve already had so many roles and excelled at them. I know this is a big one but you can do it. I believe in you. And I wish you would too.”

Y/n sighed again. She zoned in on her body and could feel the starting aches of her muscles and tiredness of her vocal chords. “Ok,” she relented. 

Matt smiled and kissed her head. “That’s my girl. Love you, chipmunk.”

“Oho my g-d, don’t call me that,” Y/n said, uttering a mix between a laugh and a groan. 

Matt smirked and pinched her side, laughing at the sound she produced. “Why not? You squeak like one.”

“Ugh shut up,” Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Matt chuckled again and patted her shoulder. “Seriously though, Y/n. You’ll be great.”

Y/n dropped her hands and smiled. “Thanks, Matty. Go do your work while I take a break.”

Matt squeezed her hands and walked back into the living room. She would be ok.

He sat back down on the couch and picked up the keypad he had. He went to type but hit the wrong thing when a thump came from his sister’s room. He cursed and turned to face her room. “Y/n!” 

The laughter that followed his exclamation told him she did it on purpose. He chuckled and shook his head. Once again, he returned to his work, able to do it in peace this time. 

[luvrxbunny]

winter wonderland

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader 

Prompt: Strip Club

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.9k

A/N: uhh idk i kinda feel like i have to have an author's note? Idk what to say tho (not proofread) and um. ily guys <3 

Bucky walks around his club, admiring his dancers- not sexually, never in that way. He admires them for their discipline, strength, and determination, he couldn’t do half the things they do on the pole, all with a smile and trying to look appealing to the hungry gaze of the men in the audience. He makes sure everything is ready for tonight, he just expanded to a new area and this is his grand opening. He hired some new talent, a new bartender, and spared no expense on alcohol, lights, and outfits for his girls.

He walks past the practice room and hears music blaring inside, a slow sultry, rock-esk song. He turns to see a group of girls standing by the window, watching whatever’s happening inside the room. “Psst.” He gets the attention of one of the girls, Fawn. “What’s happening in there?” He keeps his voice low, a hushed whisper to not distract the other girls and Fawn’s face lights up in excitement. “Oh my god, Winter. You haven’t met her?!” Her New York accent is thick with shock. 

He feels a bit embarrassed at her reaction and she’s right, he should’ve met her by now but he’s been too busy. His expansion took him away from being hands-on more than he had accounted for, he had to outsource hiring to Cheetah. He gives her a shrug and prompts her to keep talking. “Well, she’s new to the scene, a cute little thing, nice little schtick she’s got going on.” He nods as she speaks, taking in her little pieces of information. “She- You know what? No. Go meet her! You were there for my audition, the poor girl hasn’t even seen you yet.”

He looks at her with his eyes wide, surprised at how she’s commending him, someone who’s technically her boss. “Okay, Fawn. Tone down the spice.” He scoffs at her with a smirk before opening the door, her cackle-like laugh fading out as he enters the room. Your music takes over his ears, a harsh beat, mechanical type of song. When he looks up you’re nothing like he expected. You have baby pink lingerie on, bunny ears sprouting from your head, soft white cuffs on your wrists and ankles with jewels littering your body. Your eyes are closed, your bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth, your brows furrowed in concentration as you spin, flip your body, and slide down the pole, showing off the little tuft, your bunny tail, at the base of your spine. 

Your eyes are still shut lightly as you flip again, your feet planted on the ground as you walk around the pole slowly. There’s an irresistible arch in your back and you keep your toes pointed as they touch down on the ground. You spin yourself around, a ballerina spin before unhooking your leg and repositioning your hand for a carousel spin, showing yourself off. The song ends and you slowly drop yourself to the ground, sitting pretty with your hands still on the pole while the music dies out. You flop back onto the floor, panting from exertion with a smile on your face and your eyes still closed. 

He just stares at you for a moment, your skin glistening with sweat, your chest heaving, and his dick pressing desperately against the fabric of his pants. 

He never reacts to his dancers like this, it’s always purely appreciative, of their art and the work they put in. He knows the business inside out, he’s seen the struggle his dancers go through to keep their bodies appealing, to master certain moves. He’s never been able to see the arousal of it since seeing the inner workings, it’s like watching a workout video to him. Your dance though, the way you move, your outfit, the stark contrast between your aesthetic and the song, something about it all seemed to be a perfect storm for him. He’s buzzing with want. He wants you. 

You’re still panting on the ground, your breaths beginning to even out some more when he speaks up. “That was impressive.” You shoot up into a seated position, your breaths quickening again in fear. Your eyes land on him and you stand up, covering your body slightly as you back up, standing behind the pole like it could help you, the action brings a soft smile to his face. “Who are you?”

He walks towards you, taking his hands from his pockets and holding them up in surrender. You back up even further and notice the window in the practice room, and how many girls are giggling on the other side. You jump and look back at him frantically- seemingly surprised at how many people had been watching you. “Calm down, honey. I’m Winter, this is my club.” Your back straightens and your hands drop to your sides before settling behind your back and you half bow to him before standing up straight and shaking your head at yourself.”Oh-! Hell- Hi, sir. I- My name is B- well, I go by Bunny.” 

You have a soft, nervous smile and your eyes keep darting to the girls in the window, gawking at the interaction. “Nice to meet you, Bunny. Would you like to come to my office?” You breathe out a sigh of relief and nod at him desperately before rushing to his side, following him out of the practice room and into his office.

He gives you a large coat he had on a rack in the corner of his office with a chuckle before walking around to sit on his side of the desk. “Sorry, I don’t have something nicer for you. I usually have these really nice bath towel type things? But I uh- I left them at my other location so…” He trails off awkwardly and smooths his hands over his desk. He looks up at you and you’re just staring at him with a little amused smirk on your face. “What?”

You giggle at him, leaning forward as you laugh and he tries not to stare at your cleavage. “You’re- You seem awfully nervous for like- a strip club owner.” He actually belly laughs at that, it shoots from his chest, shocking to his own ears when he hears him. His laughs die down before your giggles and his chest warms at the sound, along with his cock as the rest of his blood rushes south. “To be honest, Bunny. I think that’s just you.” You laugh even more at that and it stabs his ego for a moment. 

“I’m the only one who thinks that? I mean- It could be just how I’m seeing the situation but-” He tries not to laugh at your misunderstanding. “No, Bunny.” He cuts you off. “You’re the only one who makes me nervous.” Your rambling stops short, your back straightens again and his jacket begins to fall off your shoulders, exposing a bit more of your outfit. His eyes can’t help but dart down to take the sight in. It stabs him with arousal, he takes a sharp breath and leans back in his chair, spreading his legs to give his cock more room to grow, filling and fattening up for you. 

“M-me? Cus- Is it like- because you- because we haven’t met before or..?” Your eyes dart around the room and your breathing is picking up. He can see your hips wiggling in the seat, either grinding into it or pressing your legs together- his new position takes his view from your lower half. His eyes trail up your body before meeting yours. “That’s not why, sweetheart.” You shake your head lightly with a little breath of disbelief. You have a questioning look in your eyes, like you truly believe that he’s lying or you’re completely misreading the situation. 

“I mean-” You gain a cocky smirk, like you’ve finally figured out what’s really happening. “I’m a stripper, it’s kinda my jo-ob” You have a little tune in your voice, sing-songy, like it’s a joke. His face is straight when you look back up to him, not finding one hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Actually.” He sits back up in his chair, clasping his hands over his desk and leaning into you. “I find it harder to understand the- the more erotic side of stripping. Your work is artistic to me, I’m generally indifferent to all my dancers but-” His breathing shudders as he recalls your dance. “Something about your-” His mouth gapes as he tries to pinpoint what it is exactly that’s affecting him so much but he can’t think of just one. “You. Something about you is- seems to be affecting me.”

His eyes trail up your body and stop on yours as he finishes his sentence. There’s something so penetrating about his gaze, you can feel yourself heating up under it, a tingle growing between your legs and your panties beginning to dampen. You’re still cautious though, for all you know he could do this with every dancer. “You don’t usually—?” He cuts you off before you can even finish your question. “Never.”

You look him over, taking in his features and deciding whether he’s lying or not. You look in his eyes and they look… truthful. So you lunge for him, crashing his lips into yours, earning a shocked moan from his lips as his large hand comes up to hold your head in place. You lean closer to him, trying to get as close as possible until the desk begins to dig into your ribcage. You separate from him with a moan, a dissatisfied whine falling from his lips until he sees you rushing to his side of the desk, immediately seating yourself in his lap and connecting your lips back to his. 

His hands are on your hips with a groan as he instantly grinds up into you, pressing his hot bulge against your clothed clit. You moan into his mouth, detaching your lips to watch the way his hips move against you, how his hands dig into your hips and grind you onto his cock. His head is thrown back and he’s moaning a bit louder than you would’ve expected, you’re drinking them up. You look back at him and arch your back, leaning to him and changing the angle of your hips over his cock. You kiss at his chin, whining against his bottom lip as he assaults your clit. 

The fabric of the lingerie is creating so much friction against your clit, it feels good until it borders on painful, almost rubbing you raw with the rough material until he sticks his hand through the side of your panties, gathers all your nectar that’s been resting at the entrance of your hole and spread it all over your pussy, bringing that perfect slickness back to your clit and winning himself a moan of “Winter” against his neck. 

He grunts at your outburst and brings his hands back to your hips. “Bucky, sweetheart. Call- shit. Call me, Bucky, baby.” You whine louder into his neck, insanely turned on by the fact that he trusts you with his real name and wants you to moan it for him. You’re too in your head though, mulling over your own thoughts, in the clouds to comply with his wishes. He thinks it’s because he’s not giving you enough so he backs your hips up. 

Your head is buried in his neck and you whine at the loss of movement. You peek your head back to see what he’s doing and watch him fumble with his underwear, jeans already undone and unzipped, his hand now down his pants, jerking himself quickly before pulling it out. Your hips tilt to him subconsciously once his cock is out, red, leaking, and throbbing for you. You can already imagine how deep he’ll go, how sore you’ll be after, and how you won’t be able to think of anything but him while you dance for other men. 

You lunge for his lips again as your hand reaches down for his cock, your fingers overlapping with his as you wrap your hand around his tip, forcing his out of the way as you slide down his shaft. He moans into your lips and brings his hand to the back of your head, holding your face to his lips more aggressively as his hips begin to thrust into your hand rhythmically. You pull back and consider letting him cum like this. The sight is something to behold, his shirt slightly lifted, showing off his happy trail to his unzipped jeans, his cock, big, pink, and pulsing in your hand with his eyes squeezed shut and moans spilling from his lips. You almost let him cum like that. 

But then his thrusts change into a swivel, fucking himself into your hand languid and passionately and you’re suddenly jealous of your fist. So you let go, pull your panties aside, and seat yourself on his cock before he can even process what’s happening. His eyes shoot open with a yelp and one hand comes to grip your hip painfully while the other slams down on the desk before running over his face and through his hair. “D- hmmm.” He breathes out a frustrated breath of air that sounds like a groan. “I’m trying to last for you, Bunny. I don’t do this.” His hand loosely gestures between the two of you.

You’re nodding at him, half understanding what he’s saying but most of your strength is trying to stop your pussy from fluttering around him due to the intense stare he’d holding you with as he reprimands you. You breathe a sigh of relief and immediately start bouncing on his cock once he’s done talking. His eyes roll back and his hands grip your hips, trying to keep them down but not having enough strength to stop the overwhelming pleasure you’re pummeling him with. “Bunny-” He says your name like a warning and his hand tenses over your hip, you would listen if you weren't so far gone. 

His cock has been pressed against your G-Spot since you dropped yourself on him. Your legs are too weak to push yourself off his cock far enough to rearrange him so you’ve just been fucking him into that spot again and again, unable to escape the pleasure. Your eyes are permanently on the ceiling, almost rolled back and your mouth open, letting ruined moans fall from your lips like a siren song. You’re calling to him, begging him with your sounds to take over and thrust himself into you, asking for him to fill your tight pussy. 

His hands tighten over your waist and grind you onto him as his hips begin to jump in his chair, fucking into you with a force that’s making you see stars. “Bucky! Th- there! Don’t stop, Bucky.” You wrap your arms around him and his hand comes to the arch of your back, holding your body against him. “Fuck. What’re you doin’ to me, doll? Gonna make me cum so hard.” His hand slides to your upper back as your head lifts from his neck, your dazed eyes fixated on his lips. “M’gonna cum so hard for you.” His hand pushes you into his lips with a moan, you’re able to catch the way his eyes roll back when your lips meet before yours slip shut. He whines into your lips as his thrusts become weaker, more frantic, and lose their pace. 

You pull away from him to moan into his mouth, unable to contain any sounds as he shoves you over the edge. Your body convulses, folding into his as you become a vice around him, choking his cock and forcing his orgasm to spew from his tip. It tears through him like a hurricane, every muscle tensing, his arms almost crushing you in their embrace as a painful groan shakes out of him and devolves into a whimper as your pussy coaxes more cum from his pulsing cock. 

Your hips are grinding into him mindlessly, overstimulating the both of you as your orgasms die down. Bucky is whining pathetically under you, begging you to stop, slow down, and calm down all with his hands still on your hips. Instead of stopping you though, he’s just resting them there, letting you take whatever you need from him with no resistance. 

Your hips eventually calm down, slowing to a stop over him, resting your head on his shoulder and basking in the silence of the room, in how his hand rubs over your back before pausing to draw random shapes. You’re drifting to sleep in his hold, humming contentedly when he presses kisses to the top of your head.

Someone knocks and opens his door without waiting got an answer. He spins in his chair around to hide your body from view. “What is the point of knocking if you’re not going to wait for an answer?” He speaks to the person in a sharp whisper. “Oh. My. God. I didn’t mean for you to get to know her like this! Jeez, boss.” Fawn. He turns slightly, only enough to see her and so she can see the serious look on his face. “Not a word to anyone.” She rolls her eyes and pulls his door shut with a snort. 

You start to writhe in his lap, groaning, and your brows furrow. He coos at you until you fall back into your deep sleep, a soft smile on his face when you bury your face in his neck and breathe out a soft exhale. He whispers soft words in your ear, rubbing over your skin to keep you warm until showtime. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[justabardling]

More thoughts on Kpop Demon Hunters Under the thread but you know, spoilers so click with caution

Love the story itself, great concept and honestly strong execution on almost all levels.

The unique things Sony Animation keeps pushing with each of their movies is really great imo. Every movie from their animation division has done something unique with the 3D style and I love that!

The storyboarding and camera angles in this one is fire - there were so many shots that I had to make note of looking up later/hoping they show how they mapped that out.

Storywise, I like a lot of what they mapped out for what could clearly be a series of either movies or an entire season of a show. Yes, a lot of plots holes are left with that final ending sooo idk I am curious to hear from the director and writers about that. Seems a lot had to be done in a short amount of time BUT also I can't complain too much idk what to say the industry amiright.

Love the concept of rebuilding a Honmoon that's based in what the new Hunters believe in.

TBH some part of me is like 'that could have been a potentially interesting thing to explore as part of KPop idols required to live such certain lives/expectations/never shows flaws and these particular fictional KPop stars choose to literally rebuild the system they were brought into/allow Rumi and themselves to live as themselves. Idk I think it would track better with Golden! But I am also not a story writer so obviously a lot of things would have to be retooled for that.

Things I would love to see explored if they get a sequel/series

Rumi's past ofc - who is her dad/what went down with her mom and him and their group of hunters. Where is the other one?? If there's three and one died and one was left to raise her child...idk a lot to explore there.

Ditto how did Celine build Huntrix - do they just hold auditions until they find the right 'match'. I'm assuming less with voices and more with personal struggles - and maybe that's lost a bit with Cyrene anyways since she clearly bought into the older way of doing things.

Also on the subject of Celine - until we're told otherwise I'm going to assume she knew being on one side of the Honmoon meant you were fine bc that is a HELL of a gamble to take with your surrogate kid and knowing they're half demon. Like what if they sealed the Honmoon as 'golden' and Rumi was sent to the demon realm? Again it seems like that's a non-issue movie-wise.

Mira's family!!! We're told she was a problem child and a black sheep so if we get a sequel idk...Mira's brother potentially showing up?? Wanting to connect with a sister who he was never close with but sees her face everywhere?

Likewise - what is Zoey's family backstory, since it's clear in Golden she was a child of divorce - though something that I didn't see until a rewatch is that she's holding a Sunlight Sisters Record!

The tree?? with Celine?? We see it in Rumi's part of Golden and she has her emotional moment with Celine there so is something tied to that other than the grave?

Hope any sequels expand on Rumi's Demon power and yes in a fun way. If she can transport by smoke you KNOW Mira and Zoey are asking her to transport them short distances that are just a stupid abuse of powers. Rumi's like 'idk even know this works I don't want to hurt you guys' and they're like 'yeah we know let's just try it :)'

Rumi starts having this crisis of faith while fighting the demons and what they really are motivated by after she speaks with Jinu but also they are stealing people's souls so you know - maybe some kind of resolution on what happens to folks once they're down there (I'm 99% they just died?? so maybe coping with that in some way in a sequel)

Finally would love to see if they have Bobby either a) brought in on the demon thing and he just rolls with it or b) he thinks it's a new gimmick or c) DOES acknowledge that this is a Thing but also knows acknowledging it is WILD so he's just like 'Gonna ignore this and stay in my lane and do my job' while also knowing the trio is off fighting demons any time they're not on stage. Ngl when it seemed like Bobby was taken I was like 'YES' bc I love the dynamic of bff of some superhero trio needing them but often overlooked so like idk Netflix if you want a writer for a series please!! accept these notes but don't hire me Idk what the fuck I'm doing.

Idk more of the trio doing stupid things together but this movie showed the fun bits of them carbo loading and spa days so I would love more of that with them!!