#have you never been sexually harassed by a woman? i sure fucking have

[problemnyatic]

so does putting "men dni" in your shit actually reduce the number of shitheads you get or does it just filter out the dudes who actually care about boundaries in the first place

#also what are the fucking polygender people supposed to do #do you just not want to have to deal with complicated genders?? or does my being a woman sufficiently ''invalidate'' my masculinity enough #because if that's how it is go fuck yourself all the way to hell #do you think men are just born nasty? or universally raised to be no exceptions? what do you think about trans men #look. you're allowed to curate your online experience however you want. I can't stop you #but the ways in which you do so say a lot about how you think about others #i understand that a lot of men get real fuckin nasty in asks and dms and whatever. I'm compassionate to that. #but do those kinds of men even give a shit about dnis??? #have you never been sexually harassed by a woman? i sure fucking have #I just don't fucking get it #i'm extremely nonbinary and deeply frustrated #thanks for letting me know i'm either inherently nasty to you or that pieces of me ''don't count'' for you to hate me. how fucking kind. #problemnyatic discourse #problemnyatic thoughts

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

 You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “–no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

 “Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that!  FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

��Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz

Reblog if you liked reading this chapter and want me to continue! Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[springseasonie]

To New Friends | JJH (M)

Corporate AU, Strangers to lovers (?), Younger Jaehyun x older fem reader

Summary: You really hate having to go to formal events. The people, environment, joverall experience is never pleasant. Having to constantly deal with being undermined as a woman and CEO is something no one should have to deal with, but here you are, forced to deal with it anyway. You were sure your night would be horrible, that is until you bumped into Jaehyun, who not only happened to be a new face, but just your type.

Warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (male and fem receiving), snowballing, cum eating, spit, sexism/misogyny, harassment (if you would call it that, proof read but may contain errors my bad y'all)

Word count: 5,3 k

Song recs: perfume, kiss by NCT djj, on the way by Jhene Aiko

A/N: been a bit obsessed with Jaehyun and wanted to write about him. Got a bit carried away a bit too delusional so this is the product of that. This is pure filth I'm so sorry. Feedback is loved and appreciated

Charity events were never really your thing. The pleasantries, snobby sexist businessmen, and their annoying wives. You always hated them. All of them were just ways for rich narcissists to make it seem like they had compassion, but everyone knew it was just as fucked up as anything else. None of these people ever cared for the cause, just how much they were putting into it.

However, the hardest thing about these events is being a successful single woman. You take pride in not being taken although people your age tell you it's about time you settle down and start a family. You don't really like the idea of not working and giving up a career you worked hard for over some snotty nose kid and a man who probably would cheat on you anyway. It's an extremely pessimistic way of looking at marriage, but you couldn't help it, especially seeing how all of your friends' relationships are at the moment.

But sometimes, you did wish you had an interesting life, like right now. Right now you were stuck in a conversation with 2 CEOs and their wives going on and on about their children in private schools across the globe. You twirled your drink in your glass leaning on your elbow as you stood across from them.

"But Y/N..you aren't looking for anyone right now," Rosé asked. She was the wife of a powerful man who owned one of the biggest tech companies in the world. She was also the fakest person you've ever met. You didn't like her and thank God the feeling was mutual.

"No, I'm not. I prefer to focus on working right now," you answered. You sipped your drink without breaking eye contact with her. She knew exactly what she was doing, constantly trying to embarrass you.

"You said that last time honey. Don't you want to..rest for a while? Find someone to take care of you? I mean, you're beautiful, so it shouldn't be too hard," she replied.

"I like working. And I can take care of myself." The table got quiet, sensing the attitude you didn't mean to let slip out. "Anyway, I'm going to go greet other guests. Have a good night."

Just as you turned around, you practically walked into a wall of a man, spilling your drink on your off-white dress.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," he said. It was a voice you didn't recognize. You looked up at him, surprised at the handsome sight your eyes were met with. He was blonde and tall. His voice was a bit deep for his appearance.

"It's.. it's okay," you said, trying not to show how irritated you were.

"I'll go get something for you to clean up with." He turned around and walked away quickly. You watched him as he begged the kitchen staff for napkins, ears red from the embarrassment. When he came back, he handed them to you with both hands.

'Polite,' you thought to yourself. "Thank you," you said, flashing him a quick smile. "I'm Y/N by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Jaehyun," he said, watching you wipe your dress. "Do you come to these things often?"

"These events? Well, I have to, considering my job. But If I'm gonna be honest, I don't really like them," you said, whispering at the end of your statement.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, looking down at you. "Tell me about it. I can't stand these things either."

"At least we have something in common. Well, it was nice to meet you Jaehyun," you said with a small smile. You walked away before letting him respond, almost as if you were running away from the conversation. He was handsome, a little too handsome, and really well-spoken too. And for the first time, someone finally spoke to you like a regular person. But of course, you didn't want to give him the impression that you were trying to flirt when he was just being nice. That's what you tell yourself all the time - that they're just trying to be nice - no matter how many times they ask you for your number or ask you on dates.

No one knew, but another reason you didn't want to get married is that you had no interest in having a trophy husband. Most men who try and get with you are often just looking for someone to sink their manipulative claws into. They thought that because you're beautiful and rich, you must've killed an old husband for it. But whenever you tell them about how you busted your ass since your teenage years to get where you are, they're no longer interested. You aren't well known amongst your run-of-the-mill businessmen, so they take you as a joke until they actually google you. You found it comical how many of them text you saying they were sorry and begging you to go out with them again. But after a while, dating and trying to talk to people really did become exhausting, so you just decided to not do it anymore. And it's been that way for 4 years now.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lee! How are you guys?" You shook both of their hands with a smile, trying to hide how much you wanted the interaction to be over.

"We're good. You know we just had another kid," Taeyong announced.

"Oh really? Congratulations!"

"Thank you..and I see you're here alone again unless that," Irene said pointing to the wet stain on your dress," was made by someone I assume."

"Oh, this? I bumped into someone, that's all," you answered. You were sure they knew you were getting more and more annoyed with how Taeyong's eyes shifted between you and his wife.

"A shame. I was almost excited to see someone here with you but alas..the ice queen will never melt." Irene's eyes were always judgmental. You knew she thought she was better than you with all her expensive dresses and jewelry, constantly trying to flaunt her possessions and family in front of you and other people.

'What a bitch,' you thought to yourself. You flash her a small smile, twirling the drink from your glass. "I do hope you guys have a good night, and I hope you figure out your son's scandal. Buying test scores isn't something I'd want to be accused of."

You walked off seeing Irene's ticked-off expression. 'Serves that bitch right.' Taking a sip of your champagne, you spotted Jaehyun talking to a group of men, some of whom have tried to get with you in the past. You shouldn't have stared but you couldn't help it. He was the first man you actually found yourself attracted to out of all the single men in these events. You watched and sipped your drink, staring at him as he laughed and smiled. 'He has dimples?' you caught yourself thinking. "I need a stronger drink." Just as you were about to walk away, the one person you didn't want to see spotted you.

Jaehyun motioned for you to come to him from across the room. Being the nice person you are, you walked up to him and the other men. "Hey," you said, glancing at the group of them awkwardly.

"I know we just met but I wanted to introduce you to some of my friends," he said.

"We've.. already met before," you laugh awkwardly.

"Yeah. She's not very nice," Mingyu commented. His eyes went from your face to your cleavage which was showing a bit in the low-cut dress. "But who needs to be nice when you're dressed like that?"

Mingyu and the other men snickered at your fading smile, nudging each other to look at your expression. Jaehyun took notice, clearing his throat and gaining their attention. "Guys, chill out."

"Or what, she can't take a little joke?" Mingyu scoffed and sipped his drink, staring at you, daring you to say something. Little did he know you weren't scared of anyone, and you certainly wouldn't be embarrassed by anyone either.

"You know what? Yeah, it was a bit funny," you said nodding. "You wanna know what else is funny?"

Mingyu raised his brow, clicking his tongue. "I'm listening."

"I think it's funny how you had to close 5 of your 15 stores already because of how poorly they're doing." You covered your face letting out a fake laugh. All the men looked at you, none of them amused anymore, especially Mingyu. "What's with the serious faces? I thought we were telling jokes."

"You're miserable really," he said, turning away from you, and walking away. "No wonder no one wants you. You're gonna end up dying alone."

"As long as it's not with you." You let out a big sigh as he and his other friends got farther away from you. You've always had a sharp tongue and quick remarks never letting anyone catch you off guard. It was something you had to learn for survival in the corporate world, especially as a woman.

"I'm really sorry about him," Jaehyun said, tongue poking his cheek in annoyance.

You turned to him, surprised to see he was still there. "Oh no, don't apologize. You seem so nice. Why are you friends with people like that anyway?"

"I'm a bit new to stuff like this," he admitted. "I've never been in an environment with such successful people, so I just became friends with anybody."

You chuckled softly at his words, finding his naiveness endearing. "If you want advice from someone who's been here for a while, I'd say don't become friends with just anyone."

"And what if I wanna be your friend?"

You look at him immediately being faced with his dimples. 'Gosh, he's cute.' "Then I'd be grateful," you said.

He raised his glass, fixing his suit jacket with his other hand, proposing a toast. "To making new friends?"

You clung your glass with him with a smile nodding. "To making new friends."

-

It's been 2 hours since the event started and usually at this point you would've gone home, but this was unfortunately the most important event of the year, so you had to stay. If you didn't, you would probably get a very angry email from the board of your company again, and you didn't feel like dealing with any of that.

In situations like this, you usually went outside, but the location of this event was a million-dollar penthouse. Thankfully, there was a balcony with a pool that too many people were afraid they would fall into. You were leaning on the ledge of the glass fence staring out into the view of the city. Even at night, it looked like daytime. No one stopped for anything or anyone, always fast-paced no matter what. If you knew that's what your life would look like years ago, you probably would've just pursued something lowkey. But you worked hard and weren't going to stop now.

"You been out here for a long time?"

You turned around to see Jaehyun walking up to you. He held his suit jacket in his arm, his other hand stuffed in his pocket. He was buff, buttons straining against his chest. You gulped, not being able to control your obvious staring. 'How was he hiding all that under his suit,' you thought to yourself.

"No, just for a couple of minutes. It gets kind of suffocating sometimes," you admitted.

Jaehyun came up next to you, leaning on the fence as he stared into the city lights. He had such a well-defined face, a jawline sharper than diamonds. He's probably the most handsome man you've ever seen. If you had more to drink, you'd probably fall right into his lap by now.

"I feel you. What..do you do by the way," he asked, looking away from the view and at you.

"I own Jasmine Marketing Company," you answered. Your company is one of the most famous marketing companies in the country, and you basically did it all by yourself. Being a woman in her mid-30s with an establishment as big as this one is rare, but you happened to do it. You don't like to announce who you are because people treat you differently, but you don't mind doing it if you have to put someone in their place.

Jaehyun's eyes went wide, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Woah..didn't expect that."

"Why? Did you think I was gonna say something like 'Oh I'm blah blah's wife' or that I own some fashion brand," you joked.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that." He panicked, letting out a big sigh before looking down at his feet. Jaehyun's head shot up when he heard you laugh, voice lighting up the quiet balcony.

"I was just kidding. I know you didn't mean it that way, it's okay," you said, comforting him.

Jaehyun smiled, letting out a laugh in disbelief. "Goodness, you are really something," he commented, a bit more relaxed.

You turned your body to him, arm leaning on the railing for support. Jaehyun might've been nice and well-mannered, but on the surface, he was just a man. It was taking everything in him to not look at your chest. Being the smart woman you are, you notice it. "It's okay. I won't get mad at you," you said quietly.

"W-what are you talking about?" Jaehyun gulped, biting his lip nervously.

"I mean.." you took a step closer to him, so close he could smell your floral scent perfume. "You can look. I won't get mad."

It wasn't like you to be this bold, but after a couple of glasses of champagne and constantly being talked to by people you didn't like, the least you could do was treat yourself to the nervous new guy.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, trying to cover up how flustered he was. "I'm not gonna fall for that." Jaehyun would like to think of himself as a smart man. He knows what he should do and what he shouldn't despite being given permission to do so. He's dealt with many women but none like you. You're confident and quick, but never let your guard down. And that's how you wanted to keep it.

You smirked, turning back to lean on the railing. "I like you Jaehyun," you commented. "Most men would look, and then proceed to think that means they could touch me. It's annoying."

"Well, I'm not like most men."

You smiled, moving your hair from your face. "You know, it's kind of rare to see a fresh face among all these old people," you admitted. "For the first time in a while, I can say I had a little fun tonight."

Maybe, just maybe, there was something here right now, between the 2 of you. It's so cliche. He bumps into you making you spill your drink over your dress, defends you from his annoying friends, and is now talking to you instead of making connections at a charity event. He's handsome with pretty blonde hair and nice dimples, and a body to go with it too. This night was almost too perfect for you. You hadn't felt a spark with anyone for a very long time, not wanting to get with just anyone.

"Why? Because of me," he asked, joking. Jaehyun's smile dropped a bit when you nodded.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking," you asked.

"I'm the CEO of Jeong Enterprises," he answered.

"Really," you asked, a bit shocked. "But you're so.."

"Young? Yeah I know. Took over for my father a couple of years back," he answered with a sigh.

You know Mr. Jeong, but you never met his son. He's a nice man with very strong values, always talking about how much he loves his family, and how much he wants them to succeed. Years ago, he got sick and hasn't been able to manage the company head-on. Mr. Jeong said he was going to appoint a new CEO, but you never would've guessed it was his son.

"It's not as easy as people make it look. I mean having to pick up from where he started was hard, but I would say I've done a pretty good job," he admitted, a small smile on his face.

"You have."

Jaehyun looked at you, mouth a bit open trying to form a response but failing. You couldn't help but glance at his lips, then his neck, and trail your eyes down his body. You were sure he noticed, but he could pick up a hint right? But maybe he couldn't, so maybe you should apply some more pressure.

"For someone who doesn't come to these things often, you look great," you complimented.

"Oh, thank you. You look..great too," he said, nodding his head as he looked away from you.

"Great? That's all I get?"

"Well you look beautiful," he said, trying to change his words.

"So you think I'm beautiful," you teased. You gave him a small laugh seeing how flustered he was. "Well, I think you're very handsome."

Jaehyun watched you intently as you took a step towards him, looking at him with doe eyes. He gulped, not really knowing what to do. He had a feeling you were going to try and do something reckless, and by the time he could say no, he would already have done it.

"You're too kind," he said, shaking his hair from his face.

"Goodness, you're cute. I wanted to keep the flirting to a minimum but I can't help it. You're really something," you said. All that was happening at the moment was a bad case of word vomit, but you really couldn't stop yourself. It'd been a long time since you were this attracted to a person, so you had to let it be known.

Jaehyun gave you a small chuckle looking at you as he licked his lips, brushing his hair back. Jaehyun really didn't know if he should give in to your advances knowing you were probably saying all of this because of how many drinks you had, but after all, he is just a man. "Well, people don't usually find me cute after first meeting me, so you're a first."

"What do they usually say?"

"They say I look like I'm great in bed." Jaehyun eyed you, gaze shifting from pleasant to lustful in less than a second. Your lips curled into a smile as you cocked your head to the side.

"Well..are you?"

"There's only one way to find out." To anyone who might've been looking at the both of you from afar, it looked like you were having a normal conversation. But the tension between you and him was so thick, it would probably startle some people you know. Your presence was so dominating to him, but you liked how he wasn't intimidated by you.

"I didn't think you had it in you. You were so shy and careful a couple of minutes ago. What happened to that," you teased.

"Trust me, I have a lot of things in me you don't know about." His voice was low, sending a shiver down your spine, right to your core. Goodness, he was hot. You're surprised he never got into a love scandal with the way he's talking to you.

"Would it be unprofessional of me to say I would like to find out?" By this point, you were definitely too far gone to back off now. It was a bit unlike you - the woman who kept all her ducks in one row - to fuck someone the night she met them, but Jaehyun was too good to be true. It's rare to come across someone who's exactly your type, so you can't let this go to waste.

"I'd like you to find out," he answered.

You stepped closer, chest in his as you leaned into his ear. "Meet me upstairs in 15 minutes," you whispered and walked away. Jaehyun watched you, the click of your heels getting further and further as you walked back inside.

-

Jaehyun attached his hands to your waist, holding you firmly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I hope you don't mind the lipstick," you muttered.

Your lips smashed onto his as you pressed him against the wall, holding his face in your hands. Jaehyun tugged off his suit jacket, throwing it somewhere on the floor beside you. The light was low in the room, the only source of light coming from the moonlight shining through the gigantic window of the empty room. Your lipstick was probably all over his face by now, so there was no way either one of you was coming out of this room unscathed.

He pulled away from you, planting kisses on your neck. He lowered his hands in response, cupping your ass firmly as you moaned softly. You removed your arms from his neck and loosen his tie wanting to see more of him. He inhaled the scent of your perfume, taking in everything about you all at once.

"I want you in my mouth. How does that sound," you asked, eyes closed in pleasure.

"Sounds like heaven." Jaehyun lifted his head, letting go of you as you sunk onto your knees. His eyes never left your hands as you unbuckled his belt, hands moving fast and clumsily. Jaehyun couldn't help but smile. He's been with a lot of women, but no one older. He always felt like older women weren't his type, but here he was about to get blown off by one.

You unzipped his slacks, tugging his neatly tucked shirt out of the fabric. You tugged his clothes down quickly, unable to hide your excitement when you saw his hardened length.

"Fuck," you mumbled. You grabbed his length, stroking it slowly, and bit your lip. Looking up at him, you swore his eyes rolled back from the simple touch. Jaehyun's eyes never left yours as you started to stroke him faster.

You kissed the tip of his length, tongue softly digging into the slit. Jaehyun let out a low grunt, brows furrowing at the sudden feeling. You removed your hand slowly as you sunk his length into your mouth. You bobbed your head, staring into his pretty brown eyes. Your hand gripping the hem of your dress nails sinking into your palms through the thin fabric.

Jaehyun's hand reached the back of your head, following your rhythm. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked him harder, moaning softly.

"You're so pretty on your knees," he muttered. His eyes were glossed with pleasure, unable to care about the many voices and footsteps that come a little too close to the door. "I bet it'd turn you on even more if someone happens to walk in here."

You whined softly in response. You bobbed your head faster brows furrowing at how full your mouth was. Pleasuring him was turning you on even more, so when you opened your legs and crept your hands under your dress, Jaehyun was in absolute awe. You weren't wearing anything underneath and he could tell how easy it was for you to start fingering yourself. You pumped your fingers in and out of you matching the pace of your bobbing head.

Jaehyun moaned softly, mouth falling slightly as you moved your head faster. His eyes shifted from your face to your hands stuffed between your legs not knowing where to look. You pulled your mouth off of him slowly, droll falling down your chin, the only thing connecting you to him being a string of spit.

"Cum on my chest," you said, voice a bit raspy.

Jaehyun grabbed himself, stroking his length quickly. His soft moans turned into gentle whines. The scene was right out of a movie, him standing over you moaning as you touched yourself on your knees in front of him - so many people would pay to see it. Jaehyun's brows furrowed, throwing his head back feeling closer and closer to his orgasm. "Fuck, oh my god."

And with that, he came all over your chest, the hot sticky liquid staining your skin. Your lips curled into a smile as you bit your lip, still pumping your fingers in and out of your core. You pulled them out of you slowly and came to your knees. You never looked away as you stuck your fingers in his mouth, watching him as he sucked your arousal off your fingers.

"That's so fucking hot," you said, a smirk on your face. "And you even managed to keep my dress clean."

He took your fingers out of his mouth, letting out a soft chuckle. "I don't know if it'll still be clean when I'm finished with you."

"So finish me."

Jaehyun couldn't control himself when he pushed you into the wall and pulled up your tight dress. His lips attached themselves to your neck, leaving wet sloppy kisses all over your skin. "Fuck, you smell so good," he groaned. Jaehyun was in way too deep with you now, his tongue gliding from your neck to your chest.

If you had underwear on, they would probably be soaked by now. You watched him as he licked up his own cum, immediately kissing you right after. You couldn't get enough of the taste of his arousal as you kissed him moaning softly into his mouth.

"Don't wear a condom," you mumbled on his lips.

"Wasn't planning to." Jaehyun lifted your body, pinning you on the wall. You wrapped your arms around him, legs being held by him. You let out a breathy moan feeling yourself sinking into his length.

"Jesus Christ," you moaned quietly. Jaehyun held you with a strong grip on your thighs, so strong you were sure they would leave prints. He rocked his hips into you slowly, every moment bringing out a small groan from him.

"God, you're so big," you whispered, a smile spreading across your face in pleasure.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, kissing your neck. You looked so pretty to him, face lit up by the moonlight moaning his name. Your smile lights up your whole face, too perfect to look away from. He wanted to wipe that smile off your face. He wanted to fuck you so good, you wouldn't even be able to talk.

Your hand tangled in his hair as he fucked you slow against the wall, a small gasp escaping your lips with every thrust. Your lipstick is all over every part it shouldn't be, but that's what made this even better. The thrill of doing something you weren't. As much of a rule follower you were, you've always enjoyed breaking the rules sometimes, even if it was as risky as this. And fortunately for you, this was one rule Jaehyun broke with you.

Jaehyun thrust into you faster, making your body bounce at the same pace. The smile faded, and your jaw dropped at the pleasure that shot through your body. "That's it," he cooed. "It feels good doesn't it?"

"Y-yeah," you moaned out quietly.

"You take me so well baby." The praise made you go crazy, making you nod your head fast. You could barely form a coherent sentence at this point, not when he was fucking you this good. With every movement, your sensitive bud brushed against his skin making your head spin. You leaned in, kissing him deeply, tongues tangling with each other. You clenched around him, making him moan against your lips. "Fuck.."

"I'm so close," you whined against his lips. All that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping and the sound of your soft moans.

"Can you wait for me?"

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent sentence. You looked down at where the both of you were connected, mind unable to focus on anything else. "Jaehyun..fuck I'm so close.."

"You're doing so good," he breathed out. "Just a bit more."

"F-fuck I can't.." You whined loudly feeling your entire body tense up under his touch. You clenched around him as you came, making him moan softly into your neck.

Jaehyun kept fucking into you, feeling himself coming closer and closer to his orgasm. He gripped your hips legs harder as he fucked into you at an unsteady pace. Soon enough, he threw his head back, brows furrowed, biting his lip to keep the loud groan from reaching the ears of the people outside the door as he came inside you. Feeling weak, Jaehyun put you back onto your feet carefully, the sound of breathing and your heels clicking on the floor filling the room. But before you could even register what just happened, Jaehyun disappeared right in front of you, dropping to his knees.

"W-what are you doing," you whispered softly.

"I'm not done." Jaehyun's voice was tired and raspy, sweat dripping down his forehead. He grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. Jaehyun wasted no time attaching his mouth to your core looking up at you with lust filled eyes. He lapped licked and sucked your clit hard, lapping up the mixture of both of your arousal.

You could barely stand how badly he was abusing your sensitive bud. You leaned against the wall trying to keep your balance as Jaehyun gripped your hips. "Oh my god," you whimpered, breathy moans sounding like music to his ears. Everything was overstimulating you, the feeling of his tongue, the eye contact - the sounds he was making - it was driving you crazy.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum." Your breathing was so loud, you were basically heaving trying to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

"Cum, and keep those pretty eyes on me." Jaehyun moaned as he licked you up, his half opened eyes never leaving you. Your jaw dropped, a gasp that was a little too loud leaving your mouth reaching the ears of someone outside as soon as you came.

"What was that," you heard someone ask.

You clasped your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle whatever noises were coming out as he lapped up your arousal. Jaehyun removed your leg from his shoulder, holding you so your weak body wouldn’t fall. You gulped as he removed your hand from your mouth, not knowing what he was about to do next.

"Open up." Jaehyun grabbed your jaw and brushed his finger against your lip. A smirk was plastered on his face as he let a ball of cum and saliva fall from his tongue and onto yours, his smirk becoming wider when you let out a soft whine. "Swallow."

Eyes never leaving your, he watched you so what he said, kissing you right after. He held your face in his hands while kissing you passionately.

"That was..fucking amazing," you mumbled on his lips.

"You were amazing." He moved his hands from your face, moving them directly to your ass. "That was the most fun I've had in ages."

"That was the most fun I've had in my life," you replied, chuckling softly. "I thought you were bluffing when you said you were good."

"Yeah, I might've gotten a bit carried away." Jaehyun's eyes scanned over your body taking in the mess he made of you at the very formal event. "I'm sorry for that," he said, glancing at your cleavage.

"I'm sorry about the lipstick everywhere," you said laughing softly at the red smeared all over his face. "I don't know how we're gonna make it out of here."

"I could always give you my jacket and we can make a run for it," he joked.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck with a smile. "I think I'd like to stay here for a little bit longer. I hate these events."

Jaehyun kissed you softly, nipping at your lip. "Round 2? I don't think you can keep up with me."

"I'm better at showing you than telling you."

"So show me."

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #nct imagines #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader

[absurdthirst]

Can't Fight Cupid {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Human Max, sexism in the the workplace, insults, bickering, drinking, sexual harassment, mentions of drugging, drunk sex, impaired decision making but everyone consents, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream-pie, angst, oral sex (male and female receiving), confessions

Comments: Your morning show co-host, Max Phillips drives you mad. Constantly annoying you and bickering with you. At the Cupid's Ball, the weekend before Valentine's Day, you get a little drunk and do something incredibly stupid. Sleep with him.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

  You groan, rolling over to slam your hand down on top of your alarm clock. 

It reads 3 am. 

“Fuck.” You huff, feeling exhausted after staying up late last night to talk to your agent, and you regret it now. There’s no choice to snooze, you need to get up. 

Moaning as you force yourself out of your comfy bed, you stumble into the bathroom, turning on the light, and it’s bright enough to make you wince. “God.” You whine, palming your face. Every day, you’re closer to being replaced by some teeny bopper with perky tits and an annoyingly high-pitched voice. You pee and brush your teeth before you start your morning routine. Treadmill. Weights. Protein shake. Shower. Get dressed.

The car pulls up outside your apartment building on time, and you get in to meet your producer, and she starts to ramble about the segments for the show.

You listen to her half-heartedly but stare out of the window. The street lights reflect as they twinkle overnight without anyone but you and a tired few to admire them.

When you arrive at the studio, you’re ushered inside and to your dressing room to get started on the exhausting daily routine of getting ready for TV. 

Your makeup artist is putting on your lipstick when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Goooood morning Vietnammmmm!” He shouts with enough energy to make you want to punch his stupid face. 

“Max.” You huff, turning your head to see him swagger into your dressing room with his designer bespoke suit.

“You ready for the Coleman interview? You sure you’re up to it?” He tuts, leaning over you as he checks out his reflection in the mirror.

“I think if one of us is prepared and able to interview a woman who survived sexual assault at the hands of a powerful man, it’s me. If you did it, she’d be traumatized all over again.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Max snorts, “whatever, princess. Just don’t make us look bad.” He says, and you roll your eyes, “It’s not me who makes us look bad. You’re the one who flirts with anything that has a pulse.”

Your co-host leans in, a smirk on his face as he meets your eyes in the mirror, “I think you’re just jealous that I never flirt with you…off air.” He adds, his eyes narrow slightly, and you push him away from you. 

“In your fucking dreams, Phillips.” He chuckles, and you want to slap him, but he has already been in the makeup chair and Shelly would kill you if your handprint ruined her work.

Max chuckles again, slowly backing out of your dressing room, but he turns to look at you and says, “see you on the stage, wifey.” He teases and you growl under your breath.

You and Max are the darlings of morning news. The Daily News Show. You’re the “husband and wife” of daytime TV. You aren’t together. No, fuck no. You are both painfully single, unable to hold down a relationship when the show is your entire life. You live and breathe the news. Max has his liaisons, as detailed in every gossip mag from New York to L.A, but you’re the good girl. You could never get away with what he manages to do. You are held to a higher standard and it’s bullshit. You were called a “slut” when you went out with three men in six months. Max has ten flings - barely a weekend each - and he’s revered as “daytime’s most eligible bachelor.” 

You exhale shakily, trying to control your hatred towards Max before you go on air and put on your persona as the loving “TV wife.” You close your eyes and focus until Jimmy, the AD, comes in to tell you that it’s time to get on set. You nod, standing up to make your way through the halls to the set and Max is already sitting at the desk when you arrive. Shelly comes over to dust your face with setting powder and the producers are going over the segments one last time. 

“Right, everyone. Thirty seconds to live.” The director announces, headset on, and you swallow harshly, getting yourself in the zone.

“Don’t fuck up.” Max murmurs and you turn your head to glare at him. 

“You’re the only fuck up here, Phillips.” You hiss back and he chuckles, “at least I’m getting fucked. How long has it been again…? Last one was…that dude from Fallon?” He reminds you of your ex who was a writer over on The Jimmy Fallon Show. 

“Your last one still asleep in your bed?” You spit back, “you even get her name?” You ask and Max frowns. 

“Jessica? No, Jamie. No…shit.” He shakes his head and you roll your eyes. 

“As we are live in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…” The director lowers his fingers to be silent and then you straighten up and plaster a smile on your face.

“Good morning and welcome to The Daily News Show.” You introduce yourself with a grin. 

“And I’m Max Phillips. It’s three days until Valentine's Day. Are you ready for the day?” Max asks you as per the teleprompter and you chuckle, “is anyone ready? Our friends over at Saks have some ideas for last-minute gifts later on in the show. Max, did you already get my present?” You question him teasingly like the TV wife you are.

“Of course.” He responds like it’s obvious, “I couldn’t not get my gorgeous co-host something special.” He winks and you internally scoff at his slimy smile. 

“I guess I’ll have to wait and see what you got me.” You giggle and turn back to look at the camera, “let’s take a look at your morning forecast.”

You go off air while the weatherman takes over and Max leans in, “did you get me a present?” He asks and you snort, “you’re lucky I put up with you.” 

Max chuckles, “well, at least we got the Cupid’s Ball tonight.” You groan softly under your breath, having forgotten that was tonight.

You have to go. You need to go. But you desperately want to curl under your duvet with a glass of wine and forget that you will be spending Valentine’s Day alone.

****

You tug on the hem of your skirt as you walk through the hall to the bustling private area of a skyscraper restaurant that overlooks the city where the party is being held. You feel ridiculous in the short red dress your stylist had picked for you, styled with a pair of heels that make you question if they belong in a torture room in the rings of hell. They are insanely uncomfortable and you’re reminded again of why you wish you were back at home curled up on your sofa with a glass of wine watching rom-com movies and shoving chocolate in your mouth. You inhale deeply before you make your way into the room.

Leaning against the bar, Max is already a few drinks in, bored out of his mind and questioning why he has to attend these things. No one wants to talk to him, they want to talk to his morning show personality. The Cupid’s Ball is an annoying reminder that despite his popularity, no one was special in his life. At least no one that he really wanted. Taking a sip of his drink, he nearly chokes when he sees you walk into the room. The blood red dress calls to him and he smirks as he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly across the floor, catcalling you obnoxiously.

You roll your eyes and make a beeline to the bar where Max is, greeting people who are half drunk along the way. “You have one too many or you trying to make me doubt myself in this dress?” You question Max, trying to figure out his motive. You feel itchy in the dress now as his dark eyes trail along your form.

Max chuckles and waggles his brows suggestively. “You did get me a present.” He jokes. “Now put it on the floor where it belongs.” He knows that the network wouldn’t be happy with a sexual harassment lawsuit, but you wouldn’t file one of those. You enjoy cutting him down with scathing retorts too much. “Drink first, fuck later? Or fuck now, drink later?” He asks, offering you his own glass.

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head, “in your fucking dreams, Phillips.” You huff and he chuckles, “if only you knew…” 

You shake your head and push his glass away, “knowing you, you probably roofied it.” You call the bartender over and order a Cosmo, wanting to enjoy the evening even if your co-star insists on annoying you to death. “What are you doing hanging by the bar? No pretty interns to harass?”

“Why harass interns when I can harass you?” He gives you a hurt pout and takes his drink back and takes a sip of it to prove that he hasn’t done anything to it. “Besides, if I didn’t bother you, you would think that I was body snatched.” He snorts and looks out over the throng of people filing in.

You snort, “that’s true. I would think you’d been abducted by aliens if you didn’t make my life hell every day.” You thank the bartender for your drink. “To being painfully single because we made our careers our lives.” You toast as you hold your drink towards him.

Max lifts his glass in salute and snorts. “You’ve still got time, sweet cheeks.” He tells you. “You can put those birthing hips to use.” He smirks when you glare at him and shrugs. “What? You don’t want to have rugrats attached to the tit?” His eyes drop to your chest. “Pity.”

Your eyebrows raise, “and you are thinking about reproducing? Good God. The world couldn’t cope with a miniature Max Phillips.” You chuckle and shake your head, “besides…you’re lucky. You could knock up every woman from New York to L.A and you would keep your job. Me? I’d be out the door as soon as I peed on a test.” You take a sip of your drink and shift from one foot to another, unused to this kind of talk directed at you from Max. Usually he’s boasting about his conquests and how much better he looks on camera.

“In the year of our lord, 2024?” Mad huffs and shakes his head. “No. The network would exploit it. Have ‘baby and me’ segments.” In reality, the only way the network would do that is if their hand was forced, but Max isn’t willing to give up his co-host. Despite your attitude towards him off camera, the public loved you two together. “All you’d have to do is announce it on air and tell viewers the special segments to come. A taped sonogram. Let our morning show viewers fall in love with the little brat.”

“The only way they’d do that is if it was our baby and to do that, we’d have to have sex and I know that you prefer them pliable and dumb.” You glance around the room, spotting the producers laughing together and the execs making a short experience before they helicopter out to their mansions.

Max scoffs. “That would never happen.” He agrees, although there’s a frown on his face as he turns back to the bar. “Better that we focus on our careers, right? That will keep us warm when we’re in our nursing homes.” He chuckles. “When we turn forty-five.”

“You’re closer to that than me, old man.” You taunt him, “forty this year. You gonna be able to handle getting older?” You nudge him, knowing that he prides himself on his looks and Devil May care attitude.

He shoots you a dirty look before glancing at the mirror behind the bar. “Don’t look a day over thirty-four.” He huffs before looking at you with a smirk. “Must be all the endorphins from sex.”

You can’t deny that he looks good. He always looks good. Must be the pussy and Botox he gets on the sly. “You gonna come out of my cake at my party like Marilyn Monroe?” Max asks and you shake your head, “no way, Phillips.” You snort and down the rest of your drink, gesturing for the bartender to get you another one. “Didn’t even know you were planning a party.”

He pouts at you again, looking hurt. “If I don’t throw myself a party, who would?” He asks, rolling his eyes. “Not like you would throw me one. You don’t even want to go out for that drink after work like I keep asking you to.”

You huff, turning to face him after you thank the bartender for setting your drink down. “Because it’s just to - to mock me. You don’t like me. I’m not your friend. We act like we like each other on tv but that’s it. I have a face for radio, remember?” You remind him of what he said to you the first day you met five years ago.

Max stares at you for a second and then laughs. Bending over the bar and laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. “You thought I meant that?” He gasps out, looking over at you and laughing again. “Sweetcheeks- that was- I was yanking your fucking chain.” He admits, calming down enough to speak. “You’re fucking gorgeous and you know it. Charming, witty. The whole package.”

You stare at him, shocked at his outburst. He’s flirted with you, especially on screen, but to hear him say he thinks you’re gorgeous…it takes you back. You pick up your drink, taking another gulp. “You gave me a fucking complex. I- I thought I wasn’t good enough.” You hiss at him, “I always thought - well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to go suck up to the execs before they leave. Try to keep my job another year.” You say and pick up your drink, striding over to Mr. Parker, the head of daytime tv.

Max shakes his head, watching your hips sway as you stride away from him. He had never imagined you would have taken him seriously. You always treat him like a joke, so why would you believe that? Of course you’re gorgeous, the network thrived on beautiful people and made it their mission to hire the prettiest talent in the business. Max orders another drink for himself and for you before deciding to join you. A little corporate ass kissing was never a bad move for the career.

You smile as Mr. Parker looks down at your cleavage. It’s not the healthiest dynamic at the network but you let some things slide in the interest of keeping your job. You giggle at his lame joke, trying to act like he’s so clever, when Max comes over and replaces your now empty glass with a new drink. “Ah Phillips, I was just telling your pretty co-anchor here about some changes we will be making to the outfits. I’m thinking we could get away with a couple of inches higher, don’t you?”

Max lifts his brows and pretends to consider it. It’s an insult and everyone here knows it. “Why don’t we have the weather girl in a bikini?” He suggests. “But for our hard hitting stories, I think the length of the dress won’t matter, we’re behind a desk.”

“I was thinking maybe our lady here could be standing up. Presenting in front of the screens like they do on other shows. That way she can show off those stems.” He says and you shake your head, “the whole point of the show is for me to be beside Max. That’s what the viewers like, that’s what they want.” You explain and Mr. Parker hums, “we shall see. I’ll speak to the producers…see what they think.” You nod, offering him a forced smile. You know the producers will have your back on this ridiculous suggestion.

Max glances at you and knows that you are unhappy with the idea and he will back you up. “So what’s your golf game looking like, Paul?” He asks, hoping to steer the conversation on to friendlier topics. “Every time I’m in the weeds, I think of your epic shot.” Paul puffs up proudly and nods, starting to tell Max about his latest game.

You down the rest of your drink and smile at your boss, “excuse me.” You say and make your way back across the event room to the bar, ordering another drink. You shouldn’t drink so much but between all the men in the room that look at you like a piece of meat, you’re ready to get drunk and forget the reality that your time is limited because of your age. They’ll want some twenty year old to take your place soon. You lean against the bar and thank the bartender when he sets another cosmo down. You sigh and turn to pick it up when you feel someone behind you. “Looking gorgeous as ever.” The voice of the foreign correspondent, Jack. 

You turn to face him, a stiff smile on your face. “Jack.” You greet him, hating how he leans in even closer. His disgusting cologne wafting over you. He’s always been a little intrusive.

His eyes are dark and his smirk is supposed to be charming, but it comes off as creepy. “What are you doin’ over here by yourself?” He asks. “Rarely ever see you off Phillips’ dick.”

“I’ve never been on his dick. Ever.” You clarify, “I’m just sipping my drink. Enjoying the party.” You hum and take a step back from him. 

“Nice to hear. You could be on my dick if you want.” Jack smirks, licking his lower lip and you recoil. 

“No. I- I don’t want that.” You say, shaking your head and trying to let him down gently.

“You know, you’d probably move up from the morning show if you weren’t such a stuck up, frigid cunt.” Jack hisses, a scowl on his face, pissed off at being shot by the morning bitch. He is a foreign correspondent, respected and revered. He shoots you a nasty little grin. “Pretty soon your tits won’t be perky enough to keep your job and you’ll be doing the weather in Kalamazoo.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “and I’ll be telling everyone about your unwanted advances to me every single time you’re near me. I will tell HR and get you fired.” You hiss and Jack growls at you, “you’re a fucking bitch.” 

You smile, “thank you, Jack.” You remain tall just as Max appears, his hand on your back. “Everything okay here?” He asks and you stiffen slightly, “everything is fine, isn’t it Jack?” You ask the correspondent, who scoffs and walks off. 

“What happened?” Max asks, a frown on his face. 

“Jack was being an asshole. As per usual.” You huff and turn back towards your drink.

There’s more to it than that, but you will never confide in him. Apparently he can’t even try to pretend to care. He pulls his hand away, and slips it into his pocket. “He’s an old drunk that thinks the weather girl is still picked on a casting couch.” Max snorts. “No means yes to him.” He warns you. “You say I’ll spike your drink, but I wouldn’t put it past that prick.” He scoffs.

You sigh, leaning against the counter, “you’re right. He - I’ve heard stories about the interns and some of the make-up girls.” You confess, rubbing your neck, “you know…you’re not as bad as him. You’re a good man really. I just like seeing that vein pop in your forehead.” You confess, starting to feel giddy from the booze.

Max snorts and rolls his eyes, his own alcohol consumption starting to make his body hum. “You just say that because you have to pretend to like me.” He huffs, sending you a pout before he slides into a grin to cover his hurt feelings. “You think I’m pretty though. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it.”

You scoff, rearing back from him, until you soften and lean closer again. “You are pretty. So pretty.” You confess, reaching out to run your finger down his cheek, “unfair how handsome you are.” You whine slightly, “I don’t have to pretend.” You admit with a whisper.

​​He shivers at your touch and leans into it the drinks clouding his judgment and making him speak before thinking about it. “You think I’m unfair?” He huffs. “I have to constantly hide the fucking hard on I’ve got around you.” He pouts. “Do you know how fucking distracting your perfume is? You don’t need perfume for tv, and when you’re near me, all I can smell is you and imagine….”

The booze doesn’t let you question the validity of his confession. You decide to revel in it and you lean in towards him, “imagine…?” You question, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

“Imagine you.” Max is too wrapped up in his confession to realize he shouldn’t say this to you. Shouldn’t say this at all. “Head between your thighs, tasting you, making you moan my name so sweetly before I slide inside you.” He pants breathlessly, cock twitching in his pants. “Watching you cum because of me, because of the way I touch you.”

You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips at the thought. “Maxwell Phillips.” You gasp, your stomach twisting with arousal as you soak the lace panties you’re wearing. You glance around and are grateful that no one notices when you grab Max’s hand and drag him through the crowd and out into the hallway. “I want you to fuck me, Max.” You beg him breathlessly, grabbing onto his tie to pull him into the nearest empty room, a function room with tables and chairs.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and he’s not hesitant, he’s shocked as shit. But the way you are dragging him closer makes every caution sign in his mind filter away as you eagerly press your lips to his as you continue to back into the dimly lit room. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing against you when your ass hits a table and his hands are cradling your hips, helping you up onto it as your tongue slides into his mouth.

You don’t think about the consequences of this. Deciding to just feel for once, you groan as Max slides his tongue against yours and his hands explore your body. You moan echoes in the empty room as he kisses your jaw and he settles between your thighs as you open them for him.

He turns greedy. Hands filling themselves with your flesh, groaning into your mouth at the taste of the liquor from your tongue. The pure sense of you. The heat of your skin makes him twitch and groan again when he presses two fingers to the damp core of your lace panties.

You whimper, “please Max” into his jaw as he rubs your clit through the lace. He doesn’t deny you as he slides his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties and presses his manicured fingers against the bundle of nerves. “Oh God.” You moan, sliding your hands down his chest to fumble with his belt, trying to undo the stupidly expensive buckle until you can finally reach in and pull his hard cock out of his equally expensive pants. “Fucking hell.” You curse as you wrap your fingers around the girth.

He chuckles, kissing along your jaw. 

“Try hiding that all the time.” He jokes, breaking off into a groan when you squeeze him firmly and start to stroke his cock. “Fuck, baby.” He whines, hips jerking forward into your grip and he twists his wrist to press his thumb against your clit while starting to work two fingers inside you.

You pant as he pushes two thick digits into you. You hate to admit it but you’ve imagined his hands on you, inside of you, many times during segments where the camera is off of you. You jerk his cock, swiping your thumb over the head to gather the pre-cum that has gathered there. “I need - I need you to - oh shit.” You moan when he curls his fingers just right inside of you.

“That what you needed?” He groans, biting along your neck gently while he’s trying not to get too excited. Your cunt is so tight and he doesn’t want to cum too quickly when he finally gets to fuck you. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight. My cock is gonna feel so good inside you.” He moans, kissing along your chest and nudging his nose between your breasts as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Yes. Oh shit. Max. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me-” You cut yourself off with a squeal as you clamp down around his fingers. Your grip on his cock loosening as your orgasm hits you and you pant his name into his hair as he licks along the top of your breast. “Fuck me.” You beg, “need you inside of me, Phillips.”

He doesn’t even consider birth control, he’s listened to the segments where you’ve talked about your own choice and knows you well enough to know you don’t have anything. His fingers are soaked and he pulls them out with a groan of your name. Batting your hands away to wrap around his cock and soak it with your juices.

You spread your legs wider and watch him as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing inside of you with a low groan. “Oh God, Max.” You whine, throwing your head back as he pushes into you and stretches you out.

He hisses as your tight walls surround him. You’re so much tighter and hotter than he ever imagined and he imagined it a lot. Slowly bottoming out and groaning your name again as he tries to keep from cumming. “Holy shit babe.”

You slide your hands under his bespoke jacket, clawing at his back as he twitches inside of you. "I need you to move." You plead. You'll think back to this moment later and cringe at how needy you sound but for right now, you need him to fuck you like you've secretly wanted him to since you started working together.

“Fuck.” Max can’t resist you. One hand planted on the table beside your head and he draws his hips back to plunge into you again. Enjoying the sharp gasp you give him and craving more as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Starting to thrust into you with harsh, sharp slaps of his hips that rock the table while you cling to him and writhe underneath him.

You slide your tongue against his as he rocks into you. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could hear you. The music is faint from the function room where your work event is being held but you don’t care, too busy focusing on Max and the way he’s thrusting into you like his life depends on it. “Fuck, this is - it’s so good, baby.” You whine and wrap your legs around him, your heels falling to the floor.

Max grunts, agreeing completely as he bites his lip. “So- fuck- so good.” He groans your name again and bites down on your lip hungrily. “Baby, fuck, you’re so tight. How- fuck, you’re so good.”

"Ke-Kegals." You reveal breathlessly, "gotta - gotta keep fit to stay on TV." You whimper when he hits deep and you lift your hips up to meet his thrusts. "Keep going, Phillips, don't you dare stop." You demand when his pace stutters.

“So demanding.” He huffs, flashing you a grin as he nods. Taking a deep breath and rocking his hips harder. “Fuck, it’s your fault. So fucking tight.”

You shake your head, closing your eyes, "you're so fucking thick, Max. God, I don't - no wonder you have so many damn flings." You pant and he drops his hips just right to make you gasp when he hits something devastating.

He chuckles breathlessly, not even bothering to admit that he doesn’t have as many flings as he might have led you to believe. You would never think he was telling you the truth. “You’re tight.”

“Shit, Max. I- I’m gonna- just like that. Keep going like that.” You demand and groan when he keeps hitting that spot. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. Max!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock as he makes you cum hard. Harder than you have for longer than you’d ever care to admit.

“Thaaaaaaat’s it.” He groans, eyes nearly rolling back and he has to put more effort into fucking you from how hard you squeeze hum. “That’s fucking it. Cream all over me baby.” He groans. “Soak my cock with that pretty cunt.”

His words would usually make you cringe if you weren’t practically shaking beneath him as he makes you cum. “Oh God. It’s so good. So good. I want - want you to cum.” You plead, pressing your heels into his ass to push him impossibly deeper inside of you.

“Gonna - fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He pants out breathlessly, sweat rolling down his forehead but he ignores it. Too lost in the sensation of your cunt. “Fuck, fuck you’re so fucking wet, baby.” He praises. “Gonna cum, fuck, fuck-“ he lets out a strangled groan of your name when his hips stutter and he thrusts deep one last time, painting your walls with ropes of cum.

Moaning in delight as he fills you up, you caress his back under his jacket, and tilt your head up to kiss along his jaw. “Not too bad, Phillips.” You tease breathlessly as he rocks himself through his orgasm.

He huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head, rocking slowly as he pumps every spurt of cum into you. “Not too bad yourself.” He grunts, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more before he starts to pull out of you to watch his cum drip. “Now that’s a pretty sight.” He hums, delighted to see his cum leaking out of your cunt.

You roll your eyes and sit up, standing on shaking legs to pick up your panties. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You’re gonna go back in there and act like this didn’t happen. We have to act like this didn’t happen, you understand?” You ask him, your eyes wide and pleading. If everyone knew you and Max had sex, you’d be branded a slut and he’d be revered for conquering you.

Max’s plan to ask you if you want to get out of here dies on his tongue and he adopts an easy grin. “No problem, sweet cheeks.” He chuckles and looks away from you as he tucks his cock back into his pants. “Can’t have anyone thinking that something happened. Might keep me from getting lucky with that new intern tonight.” He lies and starts to straighten his tie and smooth down his vest. Once he feels like he can look at you and not show you how upset he is, he tosses you a wink. “Thanks for the sex, baby.” He hums as he turns around and whistles while strolling out of the empty room.

You watch him walk out and you swallow harshly, ignoring the way your eyes sting with tears. It’s not his fault that you gave in and now you wonder what will happen to your working relationship. You let your guard slip. You can’t let that happen again. Walking out of the room on shaky legs, you make your way back into your work event, grabbing your clutch from the side and you don’t say another word as you swiftly exit the party, ignoring Max’s stare as his cum settles in your panties while you quickly leave before anyone notices what happened.

Sighing softly as you walk out of the party, Max wonders why you let him touch you. Was it a drunken mistake? A calculated ploy to get him fired for misconduct? He frowns as he turns back to the bar and motions for the bartender. He will pretend like it never happened and see if you do the same.

The weekend passes and you freak out about sleeping with Max. It’s changed everything. You don’t know if you’re going to be able to look him in the eye as your car travels to the studio. The producer calls your name, bringing you out of your thoughts and all you can do is nod. You have no idea what they were saying but soon, you’re entering the building and making your way up to the floor for the show. “Good morning.” Your intern, Natalie, greets you with your morning coffee and you thank her. Praying you don’t see Max until you get on set, you settle into your chair to review the segments and wait for the make-up and hair artists.

Max rolls his shoulders back and purposefully changes his step to one that is lighthearted and full of energy. “How are we doing this gorgeous morning?” He asks as he steps into the hair and makeup room, seeing you already in your chair and he hates how his heart pangs because he didn’t hear from you at all. Not that it’s surprising, just disappointing. “Everyone have a good weekend? Mine was amazing.” He boasts, waggling his brows playfully. “Didn’t get out of the bed, if you know what I mean.” He lies, knowing he spent the weekend depressed and wondering what the fuck happened Friday night. 

He breezes by you and settles down into his own chair, pulling out the eye mask he carries with him with the serum that costs an arm and a leg, the promise of less wrinkles meaning he will pay any price. “Need some more rest.”

You swallow harshly, keeping your eyes on the script. The ghost of his touch has haunted you all weekend and you don’t know how to feel about his nonchalant attitude to you and the artists in the room. You wonder who took up his bed after you, your stomach twisting at the idea of it being that young new intern that seems eager to please. You turn to look at him when he places the eye mask on his face and your expression is one of heartbreak and longing - at least that’s what the make-up and hair stylists will say later when they gossip over coffee. “Busy weekend?” You ask eventually, trying to sound lighthearted.

“Yep.” He pops the p and sighs with a nostalgia that is solely for you and the night he got to touch you. “You? How was your weekend? Anything fun and new?” He asks, tilting his head up and removing the mask now that his stylist is here. His eyes focus on you with a serious gaze.

You can’t tell him you sat around all weekend having a crisis about what happened between you. “Oh, I was busy. I went out. Had dinner. Some drinks.” You say vaguely, “had a late night on Saturday so spent most of Sunday in bed.” You smirk, forcing yourself to give the impression that you weren’t alone.

“Ohhhh ho! Someone got lucky!” Max plasters a cocky look on his face and waggles his brows even though he’s pissed you fled and apparently went to fuck someone else. “Was it good? Bet it was good, but I would have been better, sweet cheeks.” He teases like he normally would have, but the words taste slightly bitter.

“In your dreams, Phillips.” You spit half heartedly, not wanting to elaborate on your lie as you hate the fact that he’s ruined everyone else for you. You’ve never cum so fast and so hard. Most men finish before you can and then won’t even help you get off. You’ve never felt that kind of electricity. The artist's exchange looks behind you as you and Max are distracted by your own turbulent thoughts. “Besides, sounds like you were warm and cozy in your bed with a new floozy.”

“You know how it is.” Max shrugs carelessly. “Friday night plans fell through so I had to improvise.” He stares at you for a moment longer before turning his attention to the hair stylist. “Can you make my hair extra shiny this morning, babe?” He asks, dropping his eyes to his hair and reaching up to fix a hair out of place. “Want to look my best for the cameras.”

You huff, shaking your head, “always the same. Always wanting the spotlight and - and always being so goddamn selfish.” You growl at him, batting the brush away from your face as you stand up and mutter about needing the bathroom before you rush out of the room. You hate that Max doesn’t even seem to remember that you had sex on Friday night. You were just another notch on his belt.

Max’s eyes follow you out of the room and the frown on his face isn’t even registering to him, although it’s being noticed by the other people in the room. Their glances to each other pointed and the hairstylist finally answers him. “Sure, Max. No problem.” She hums, running her fingers through his hair and Max sighs. “Just do whatever.”

You stare into the mirror in the bathroom, preparing yourself to head back out there and act like nothing is wrong. One drunken night with Max and your world is spinning out of control. You’ve worked so hard, focused on your career, and now you feel like you’re losing it all because you can’t stop thinking about how he felt, how he smelt, how he sounded. His moan of your name seems to play on a loop in your head and it’s driving you crazy. Hands shaking, you gather yourself as you head back into the make up room, glad to see Max is gone as you get ready to go on air.

Sitting behind the desk, Max tries to shake off the feeling that you are upset at him. You are the one who had left. Fled the party after begging him to fuck you. He’s kind of pissed off about it now. Setting him up to look like an asshole. He shuffles through the notes for the upcoming show and clears his throat, trying to get the smell of you out of his mind, his cock refusing to soften.

You spritz on your perfume, just to torture Max after what he told you, and you step onto the set to sit down at the desk next to Max. The team comes over to adjust your mic and you pick up your notes.

As soon as you sit down, a cloud of your perfume settles over him and makes Max groan. His cock twitching in his pants and he drops his head into his hand. “Max. You good?” The producer calls out from beside the camera man and he has to lift his head and pretend he’s not incredibly turned on. 

“All good, just remembered I didn’t turn off the coffee maker this morning.” He lies.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised, and you think that the groan is in annoyance at having to sit next to you. “I should’ve called in sick.” You mutter and shake your head before the AD announces the countdown to live. When you are counted down to one, you plaster a smile on your face and straighten your back, eager to do a good job even if inside, you’re angry and confused at Max and his reaction like Friday night was nothing.

“Good morning and welcome to the Daily New Show.” Max tries to keep himself even more energetic than normal to make up for his turbulent feelings. “I hope everyone is having a fabulous Monday morning and we’ve got an impressive show for you today. As you know, it is Valentine’s Day so I hope you’re all prepared. I know I am.” He chuckles and turns towards you and introduces you as his lovely co-host. “Did you like those chocolates I put in your room this morning?”

You know Max didn’t put anything in your room but you play along, “of course. I’ll be enjoying some of those with my coffee later. Did you get my present?” You tease him playfully on camera, knowing you didn’t get him anything either but you want to make the viewers think you and him are the best of friends.

“No…” his eyes widen playfully and he tosses you a grin. “Whaddya get me?” He asks, knowing you didn’t get him anything. “Hopefully something good, because I’m worth it.” He winks at the camera and chuckles, knowing that you would not be thinking the same thing.

You shake your head, "you'll have to wait and find out. I'm sure you're gonna love it." You promise with a grin and turn back towards the camera. "Talking of gifts, let's go to Katie who has some last minute gift ideas for those who need something for the one they love." You smile at the camera and slump when they count you out. "Chocolates." You scoff, "you've never even gotten me a coffee."

Max rolls his eyes and snorts. “And? Not like you’ve ever given me anything either? Maybe looks of disgust, but I don’t count those, sweet cheeks.” The sad thing is, he had bought you some chocolates, the first year you were on air for your birthday, but you hand said you wanted no reminders of getting older so he hadn’t given them to you. “Only another fifty-six minutes in my company, you’ll survive.”

You sigh and sit up straight, unsure of what to say. You hate that you’ve reverted back to your old bickering, knowing that this won’t get you anywhere after what happened on Friday. You’re confused about how you feel. You wanted to ask him to come home with you after you slept together but you know you’d put your job on the line if something went wrong and Max would always be looking for the next best thing.

Max sighs softly when you don’t say anything and rolls his shoulders back as the countdown to the cameras being back on you starts. He should just forget Friday ever happened, it’s obvious that you regret it. “Thank you, Katie. Hopefully all the men out there without a plan can get it together and not disappoint their ladies, right?” He asks you, turning his head to look at you seriously. “Although I’m more of a romantic dinner at home, myself. Candlelight, soft music, bottle of wine.” He shrugs. “Nothing like a homemade carbonara.” It’s scripted, but true. He did prefer evenings in. 

You offer him a nod and a smile, “sounds like my kind of romantic night in, Max.” You wink and continue with the prompter. It’s hard to ignore the way he stares at you sometimes. The intensity in his look has you shifting in your chair and when you are countered out, you immediately stand up and remove your mic, making your way into your dressing room. It’s impossible to forget the way he felt inside of you, the way he sounded. You can’t forget him and it’s torturing you. You wipe your forehead and place your hands on your hips as the door opens and you turn to see Max standing there. “I can’t do this anymore.” You admit, “I can’t sit next to you every day and act like nothing happened between us.”

“You?” He snorts and shakes his head. “You are the one that left. Walked away without a word and you didn’t call me. So how am I supposed to know what you want? You want me to quit? Too bad.” He scoffs. “You will just have to deal.” He’s pissed off now. Pissed that it meant so little to you and now you want him gone so you don’t have to live with your mistake.

“I- I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how you sounded. How you felt. I- it’s torturing me.” You choke, “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I thought it was for the best and I figured you would act like it didn’t happen and go back to your one night stands but - shit, Phillips. I fucking hate you for getting under my skin like this.” You hiss at him, pissed at yourself as well.

“I don’t have a lot of one night stands.” Max admits, shaking his head when you scoff. “You were- you don’t fucking see it?” He asks, lunging forward and pressing into your dressing room so the door closes and grabs your neck to drag you closer to kiss. “You don’t see that I’m crazy about you?” He hisses before he kisses you feverishly.

Your eyes widen at first contact until your brain stops working and you relax into him. Letting him kiss you, his fingers digging into the back of your neck, and you moan into his mouth until your senses return. You push him away, "stop. We - we can't do this. If it goes wrong. It will go wrong and then our careers - we can't do this, Max."

“Goddamn you.” Max hisses, stepping back and his eyes are filled with nothing but hurt. “You only give a damn about yourself and you’re fucking toying with me.” He clenches his jaw and turns around. “Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He spits, storming out of the room, humiliated that he put himself on the line again and you are rejecting him.

You stare at him as he slams the door behind him, your lips tingling from the kiss and your hands shake as you touch them as if trying to erase his kiss from your skin. It doesn’t work. You feel your eyes sting as you grab your things and change into your leggings and hoodie before you head home. Your head is aching and you try to think about the reasons why it would be wrong to give Max a chance.

Max berates himself the entire way back to his apartment. Hating how he had admitted to you that he doesn’t have flings. Knowing that you would just use it against him. His phone contacts land on his agent and he wonders if he should call him. Let him know what’s going on in case you decide to go for the throat and in the end, he can’t do it. He will quietly put in for evening anchor and let you have the morning show. It’s what you want anyway.

You bite your lower lip as you stand outside of Max’s building, the doorman recognising you and sending you up. You thank him and fiddle with the bag in your hand, the present you bought for the man you’ve secretly been in love with for years. You ring the doorbell and wait for Max to answer the door.

Max had changed from the suit he had worn to comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, figuring he would spend the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and order DoorDash for dinner since he was all alone for yet another Valentine’s Day. Groaning when the doorbell peels, he wonders if it’s the lady from the third floor who loves to come give her his opinion on the show. She’s old and her husband died last year, so he tries not to shoo her away too quickly, but he’s not in the mood for company. Dragging himself off the couch he opens the door to find you standing there, no make up and in leggings, looking more beautiful than you deserve. “What do you want?” He demands.

You stare at him, unused to seeing him in relaxed clothing, he looks younger. You sigh and shift from one foot to the other. “I was wrong. To push you away. I can’t - I can’t keep denying myself the chance to be happy because I am terrified that everything I have worked for will go up in flames. I have been in love with you since we started working together and that day I saw you speak to that old lady when we did the segment on Alzheimer’s and you were so sweet and kind. I had never seen you like that before, and it made me realize that I had fallen in love with you, but I kept that hidden because I was scared. I was fucking terrified Max, that you would reject me because you have the world at your feet and can have any woman you want, what would make me special enough for you to love me? then you kept mentioning all your flings and I knew that I would never get the chance to be with you. I didn’t want to risk everything but Friday, I put everything on the line and then realized that everything could go wrong and I got scared. I got so fucking scared and I am so sorry that I acted like nothing happened when all I want is to have you again and again until you send me away.”

Max stares at you, digesting the verbal book you’ve just thrown at him and he drops his shoulders. “Do you want to come in?” He asks, unsure if you are planning on running away again or if you want to actually talk. He opens the door wider and none of the normally sarcastic comments come out of his mouth, unable to put on a front any more.

You deflate, nodding as you step into his apartment, and you admire the decor. Masculine but warm and you know he probably paid an interior designer to help him out. He shuts the door behind you and you fiddle with the bag in your hand. “I’m sorry to just show up.” You murmur, glancing around his apartment.

“Not like I had plans tonight.” Max shrugs it off and sighs. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea, tequila?” He swallows and rocks his jaw before you can even answer. “Why did you leave? Did you regret it?”

You stare at him, wondering if he heard everything you said. “Did you not- I left because I was scared you’d reject me. That I was just a conquest and you’d go back to your flings. I didn’t want to ruin our careers by getting messy emotions involved. Because - because I was a coward.”

“But you aren’t a coward.” Max argues, frowning fiercely at the idea. “You’re fucking amazing. Powerful, confident, a real ball buster when you have to be. You push boundaries and demand respect - and earn it.” He tells you. “You’re gorgeous, smart, kind of funny, brilliant at reading an audience and you have so much compassion. But one thing you are not….is a coward.”

His words make your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “I was - I am scared. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of reaching for you, for something that could ruin me. In every way in life. I love you, Max, and that night…I broke. I couldn’t hold back from what I wanted anymore and I was an asshole to run away. I don’t want to run anymore. I know what I want. I know how I feel.”

“I thought I had you that night.” Max admits quietly, your words scaring him slightly and making him wish this had happened years ago. “I thought I finally got what I had wanted for so long.” He sends you a small grin. “Was going to ask if you wanted to leave the party. Go get dinner that night.”

You shake your head, tears stinging in your eyes a little. “I shouldn’t have - God, I was an idiot. I should’ve stayed. I’m sorry.” You confess and he stares at you again. “I- I can go. I just wanted to give you your gift.” You say, handing him the bag.

“You- you got me something?” He asks, taking the bag and then reaching for your arm as you try to turn away. “Wait.” He begs quietly. “Don’t run away again.”

You don’t move, looking down at his hand on your arm, and you nod, turning towards him again. “I want you to open it.” You say, “and read the note.” You tell him and he nods, setting the bag down on the counter.

The box is one that he recognizes and he shoots you a confused look. “I don’t-“ he starts but you shake your head. “Read the note.” You repeat and he nods, diving back into the bag to pull out a red envelope.

You watch him open the envelope. You had them write on the note “to the one I adore” and you hope he doesn’t reject you. You wanted to show him how you feel, to show him that you know him. Even down to his dream watch.

“I don’t- I can’t believe you bought this.” He admits, looking up at you and looks at you with amazement. “It’s the exact watch I’ve been wanting.” He admits. “I just could never justify buying it for myself. How did you-?”

“Saved up. I got a bonus when I resigned my contract. Got myself a purse and I only made it this far because of you…wanted to say thank you for being there for me every day.” You tell him shyly, “I wanted to show you how I felt without actually telling you.”

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and sets the card down before he steps closer to you. “I can’t believe you.” He reaches up and caresses your cheek. “I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.”

You shake your head against his palm, “it’s fine. I didn’t know when I would give you this. I’ve had it for a while. Trying to summon up the courage to tell you how I felt, to not be terrified.” You bite your lip as his dark eyes burn into yours.

“You shouldn’t have been terrified.” Max scoffs quietly. “I’ve not actually slept with anyone in months, nearly a  year.” He admits. “Too busy being hung up on my co-worker.”

You lean into his palm and reach out to caress his cheeks with your hands. “Gladys the cleaner?” You tease and he chuckles, “damn. How did you know?” He asks and you giggle, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “Please don’t break my heart.” You plead, “because it’s yours.”

“I sat home all weekend and sulked because you left.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I don’t want something casual. If we do this, I want it to be a real relationship. Dates in, dates out in town, sleepovers and being disgusting together.” He smirks at you. “Everything.”

“People already think we are fucking. The unofficially married couple of daytime tv. I don’t see why we can’t make it official? I want to be disgusting with you, Phillips.” You grin, “I want everything with you.”

“Yeah?” Max grins back at you and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. “You know what we didn’t do Friday?” He asks teasingly. “I didn’t see how fucking hard you can cum on my tongue.”

You whimper, your hands sliding down to caress his neck and his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You can find out if you want? I want to see how much you cum down my throat too.” You murmur, sliding your hand lower until you’re rubbing his semi through his sweats. “I gotta say, I love you in casual wear.”

“Yeah?” He groans quietly, hardening under your touch. “I think I love you in leggings. You like it for the easier access?” He twitches when you squeeze him and pant softly. “Baby. I- fuck, can I touch you?” He begs, a gentleman despite his bragging. “Please let me touch you.”

“I think I’ll have to kill you if you don’t touch me, Phillips.” You demand playfully, reaching into his sweats to pull his hard cock out. “God, I didn’t get a good look and - no wonder you’re so damn cocky.” You groan and let go of him to spit in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his girth.

Max would chuckle, but he’s too busy diving under your shirt to cup your tits. “Want you naked this time.” He moans, rocking his hips into your hand. “Touch you everywhere. Fuck, baby, I- should I eat you out first, have you sit on my face or kneel between those pretty thighs?” The good thing about getting up so fucking early is that it’s not even noon yet, he’s got the rest of the day to spend with you if you don’t run away again.

You whimper when he squeezes your tits over your bra. "Fuck, Max. However you want me. I am yours." You promise, "just touch me." You plead, pressing your thighs together to get some friction.

Max leans in and bites your jaw. “Come on, baby.” He coos, excited to touch you properly. “Want to show you my bedroom.” He teases. “Give you the full Max Phillips tour.”

You would normally roll your eyes but right now, you desperately need him. The ghost of his touch has been on your mind since Friday and you need it, you need him. He guides you into his bedroom and it's clean, the bed is made. “I like your style, Phillips.” You smile at him as he lets go of your hand so he can pull your shirt over your head.

“Can’t sleep in a messy room.” He admits, although he tosses your shirt to the floor with a grin. “But I will happily leave your clothes on the floor allllllll night.” He promises, unhooking your bra with two fingers before dragging it down so he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples.

You gasp and arch your chest into his mouth, your hand quickly finding purchase in his hair. “Shit Max.” You whine when he bites down and you love it, you love how he seems so hungry for you.

Max growls against your skin, loving how you start to tug on his hair. His hands tug down at your leggings before he pulls away to push you down onto his bigger than needed bed. Grinning when you bounce slightly and he goes back to attacking your pants. “Fuck.”

You help him by kicking them off and his fingers are hooking into your panties, dragging them down your legs. “Fuck baby. I need you.” You beg, dripping wet for him and his hair is not gelled, falling into his face and your heart clenches at the grin on his face as he crawls up your body.

“You’ve got me.” He promises, stopping to nip, lick and kiss different places on your body. Stopping and staring at you with a serious expression on his face. “You’re beautiful.” He murmurs softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You slide your hands down to caress his back as his tongue slides into your mouth. His cock is heavy against your thigh and you grab his shirt in your hands, wanting to see more of him. “Take this off.” You demand, tugging on his shirt.

He chuckles, pushing onto his knees to comply. “So pushy,” he teases, grinning as he tosses it away and starts to tug his sweats down over his ass. “I like it. Order me around baby, tell me to lick your pussy until you cream in my face.”

You giggle at the enthusiastic look on his face. “Want you to lick my pussy until I soak your face.” You demand, grabbing his face to drag him down between your thighs, maybe pulling on his hair a little too hard but his resounding groan tells you he likes it.

Max loves when a woman is demanding, taking what she wants because he also loves to do the same. A true switch when it comes to the bedroom. “Fuck, you have such a pretty pussy.” He groans when he sees your wet folds. “So tight too.” He tells you before he lunges forward to bury his tongue inside you.

Your cry echoes in his large bedroom and you moan his name, your hips immediately thrusting up into his mouth as he slides his tongue through your folds. “Holy shit, Max.” You throw your head back as he sucks on your clit.

He chuckles against your clit, sliding a hand between your thighs and he starts to rub your entrance to gather your slick before curling two fingers inside you. Loving how quickly you clench down on them as he licks at your nerves expertly.

His fingers and his tongue are magic. No wonder he has the reputation he has when it's so damn good. You whimper and lift your leg onto his shoulder so his fingers push deeper. "Holy - holy shit." You choke when he curls them just right and his breath washes over your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Max coos, completely obsessed with the way you whimper his name. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum all over my fingers and face, pretty girl.” He keeps curling his fingers and sucks your clit back into his mouth as he watches you intently, wanting to witness the moment you cum.

"Oh shit. Shit. Just- fuck - just like that." You whine as he sucks your clit like those stupid caramels he unwraps between segments. You can't deny him as he curls his fingers just right and you cum, clamping down on his thick digits.

You’re louder than that Friday, of course you are. You are in a private bedroom where you won’t be discovered if you scream his name. Plus, this orgasm is completely centered around you, Max continues to pump his fingers and suck in your clit to work you through it. Greedy for your sounds and the way you soak his fingers.

When it becomes too much, you push him away, gasping his name, and you grab his shoulder, dragging him up your body. "I wanna-" You don't voice your desires as you shift to push him back on the bed, shifting to kneel between his legs. "God." You murmur as you wrap your fingers around his cock. 

"Baby. You don't-" His protest dies on his lips as you lean forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Max hisses in pleasure as your mouth takes his cock. Twitching and groaning your name when he feels you swallow around him. “Never-never thought I’d see this.” He admits breathlessly. “But I love the view.”

Your eyes crinkle as you smile around his dick, taking him deeper, and you love the way his jaw drops. "You are gorgeous." He murmurs and you slide your hand along his chest, caressing his skin as you start to bob your head.

It’s quite possibly the best fucking blowjob he’s ever had. Not sure if it’s because you are so eager to blow him, or that it’s just you, but you have him breathless and gripping the duvet quickly. “Baby, baby, you are so good. You’re gonna make me cum and I can’t do that right now.” He whines after you swallow around him again.

You reluctantly pull off of his cock, moving fast to straddle his thighs and you shuffle closer, sitting up until you can grip his cock and notch him at your entrance. You look into those dark eyes and sink slowly down onto him.

“Shiiiiiiiiiit.” Max grabs your hips but he doesn’t try to control you, just hanging on while your walls surround him. “Can we do the show just like this?” He pants out, “you sitting on my cock? Fuck, baby.”

“We’d either get no viewers or a ton of viewers for daytime tv.” You giggle, caressing his chest and you lean in to kiss his neck. “You feel so good inside of me, Max.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you lift your hips until you’re sinking back down onto him.

Max blows out a loud breath, sliding his hands up and down your back. “I’m trying not to blow my load here, sweet cheeks. Don’t mistake that. Fuck, you feel so amazing. Like a fucking glove.”

You moan, loving the way he twitches inside of you. “All yours. Yours baby.” You promise and lean in to kiss him softly before you start to rock your hips, taking him deep inside of you every time you sink down onto his cock. He’s so deep and you aren’t in a rush for this to be over.

The pace is slower than before and Max groans every time you rock your hips. “Fuck baby.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss along your neck. Loving how you are slowly unraveling him.

You rock back onto him, caressing his neck and sliding your fingers through his hair. “God, I love you.” You murmur, shifting to press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks.

His breath catches, hearing you say it like that for the first time. “I love you too, baby.” He promises, lifting up to kiss you thoroughly. His hand slides up to your neck and he drags you closer, loving how your tits press against his chest and he slides his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

You savor the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and you whimper his name as he kisses along your jaw. You bounce on his cock a little faster, wanting him to cum for you. “Fuck, baby. I- I want you to fill me up.” You murmur, nudging your nose against his.

“Shiiiit.” Max hisses. “That is so fucking sexy.” He admits with a breathless laugh. Watching your tits bounce and he reaches back to slap your ass.

You groan as he helps you bounce harder on his cock. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes! Just like that. Oh God. You’re hitting just right.” You ramble, lost in the sensations as he rocks you on his cock and the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit.

Max chuckles at how desperate you sound, how greedily your cunt clenches around him. Groaning as he rocks you harder and plants his feet to thrust into you. “Want you to cum.” He grunts. “On my cock this time.”

You whimper, "gonna - oh God. Ma- Max. Oh fuck. Maxxxx." You squeal. clamping down on his cock and you cry out as he thrusts up at the right angle and sends you over the edge, making you shake against him as you orgasm.

Max chokes out your name, wrapping his arms around you and starting to thrust up into you wildly. Letting his own desires overtake the sedate pace and chase his own orgasm now that you’ve cum.

You let him thrust up into you, making you moan as he extends your climax. “Baby. I need - I want you to cum for me.” You beg, kissing his neck, and you end up biting his earlobe. “Cum for me, Max.”

“Ohhh shit.” You biting him throws him over the edge. Squeezing you tight, he rocks his hips up to bury himself inside you. Groaning as his spurts of cum paint your walls.

You caress his neck, running your finger through his hair as you kiss all over his face. His fingers dig into your flesh but you don’t care, loving how he feels surrounding you. “I love you, Phillips.” You murmur, enjoying how he feels surrounding you. “I’m sorry I ran away.” You murmur, knowing you aren’t running now.

“I love you too.” Max hums softly. “If you run this time, I’m coming after you. I don’t give a damn who knows it.” His arms loosen slightly and he looks into your eyes when you lean back. “Will you go to dinner with me? Not tonight, because we couldn’t get reservations anywhere, but I want to take you out properly.”

You nod, unable to say no to him and you lean in to kiss him again. “I’m not running away. I want the world to know about us. It’s - I’ve been thinking, this could make our career. The TV husband and wife that become husband and wife.” You tease and Max’s eyes widen. 

“Marriage? Slow your roll baby.” He says and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “I’m joking. I want to marry you. Shit, I’ve never said that to anyone. I want you baby. I’m in this for the long haul.” He promises and you nod, leaning in to kiss him. 

“Mrs Max Phillips has a ring to it.” You murmur and he chuckles, “who says I wouldn’t take your last name? I’m a modern man.” He winks at you and you snort, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. You don’t know why you’ve been running from your feelings and now that you are here with Max, you’ll never run again. He’s now your home.

****

“It’s that time of year again.” Max grins into the camera as the red light reappears. “Valentine’s Day. The day where men either panic as they figure out to impress their partners or prepare to take the next step.” He clears his throat as he looks over at you. His girlfriend of a year, even though the public was still guessing at how serious the relationship was. There had been plenty of photos of dinners out and cozily walking around town together. While you weren’t discreet, you both decided to be mum about the status of your relationship. Especially after a closed door meeting with the producers. Everyone at the station knew, and that was all that mattered. “Tell me, Valentine’s Day proposal, tacky or romantic?” He asks you. “I personally think romantic if done right, but what do you think?”

You hum, not picking up his reasoning for the question when it's on the teleprompter. "I think...if it's done right, it's romantic. If it's a 'shut up ring' then it's tacky." You explain, turning back to the prompter. "So today, we have a big surprise. Someone is going to be getting engaged on the show." You grin, still not suspicious as the producers told you about a guy who was going to surprise his girlfriend. "Look at Max." You read the teleprompter and frown, turning to see Max out of his chair. "What are you doing?"

“Baby, honey, sweet cheeks, I don’t think there’s anything tacky about the way that I feel about you.” Max tells you as he takes your hand and kneels down in front of you. “I couldn’t think of any place more romantic than the place I met you, the place I fell in love with your laugh, your heart, your brain and everything that makes up my partner at work.” He smiles at the shocked look on your face. “I wanted to propose today, since one year ago, we finally confessed how we felt and it’s been a magical year. So now I just have one little question.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring box. “Will you be my partner in life? Marry me, darling, be my wife please?”

Your eyes widen and you glance around at the crew who are grinning at you and Max. You inhale shakily, tears stinging in your eyes as the man you love kneels in front of you. "Baby. I - yes. A million times, yes!" You squeal and shift to kneel down in front of him, cupping his cheeks to kiss him without even caring about the ring, you're more excited to marry the man you love.

Grinning against your lips, Max knows that you’ve just made history, a morning show host proposing to his co-host on live tv. It will be the talk of the town. He doesn’t care about that or what the executives think. All he cares about is that Valentine’s Day is the day you became an official couple, the day you agreed to marry him, and next year - you’ll get married on Valentine’s Day. He will make sure that every Valentine’s Day you spend with him will be one to remember.

#pedro pascal #max phillips #max philips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips smut #max phillips imagine #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips fic #human!max phillips

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for blocking my friends who I suspect wrote mpreg about “me”?

I (21ftm) have two friends who have recently been writing a story together, I’ll call them O and S, O and S are both cis woman my age. They openly discuss the story on our friend groups discord server in a channel dedicated to this story. O draws the character designs while S primarily writes and they added a character into their story a few months ago who I believe was meant to be me, or at least inspired by me, they’ve done this in the past with other friends of ours who have side characters and cameos, I can usually tell because the character has a name similar to their real life counterpart and a design similar as well, such is the case with “my” character, he is a trans man who looks like me and his name is a shortened nickname of my chosen one.

I wouldn’t have an issue with a character inspired by me but they made him gay and began shipping him with a pre-existing male character which made me uncomfortable because I am very much not gay, the other characters inspired by our friends weren’t given love interests or anything so I can’t say they’ve changed the sexualities of those tribute characters. I don’t care if a character is gay, but this character is clearly meant to be representing me and I’m very uncomfortable with this. People assuming I’m attracted to men is a BIG dysphoria trigger to me and they KNOW this because I told them in the past and when they first wrote this in, all my life I’ve had people assuming I was into men because I was AFAB and I’ve dealt with a lot of “comphet” stuff, I’ve been harassed and haven’t been believed when I told people my actual sexuality, the expectation that I would one day get into a relationship with a man and have children with one was treated like an inevitability by the people around me and it scared the fuck out of younger me.

When they first wrote this relationship, i asked them to change it, i said that if they wanted to put this character into a relationship he could have one with a woman instead, they refused and said they liked the rep it gave, though there is already lots of gay rep in the story and I said that it would still be rep because the character is trans but they didn’t change it, so I then asked that this character could be changed so he wasn’t actually related to me in looks and name and they again refused, which made less sense to me because I didn’t (and still don’t) understand what they got out of writing someone who was basically me into a gay relationship. I gave up because I didn’t want to cause drama in the friend group and other the next weeks I spent less time on the friend groups server and never checked the stories channel because I was still extremely dysphoric and upset. It made me feel angry that they didn’t consider how I felt and dismissed my suggestions.

The next time I checked on that server was a month later and they were discussing the future of the story where some of the characters had children, among those characters that had children were the male character my tribute character was in a relationship with, I came into the chat and asked them how that character had kids, O posted a blushing emoji and said he had kids “the fun way”, I asked further and they said my character also had children and at this point I got really angry and just left the server and blocked them.

Later on one of the friend group J (22nb) dmed me saying that I was being dramatic and that I had no right to control what they put in their story, we had an argument and two of my other friends said I was “ruining the fun” and trying to censor their story and it wasn’t “explicitly clear that it was me”. I originally thought that if you are writing something inspired by someone and it’s making them upset you should stop right? But now I’m not so sure and I’m still feeling very down, I don’t know why they decided to write that in, and especially about someone meant to be a tribute to me, it feels like they’ve taken everything I told them about my dysphoria and distilled it down into something to hurt me.

Aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[adriennebarnes]

Prison For Life

Paring: Walter Marshall x Latina/Hispanic! Reader

Summary: Walter Marshall is very protective over his girlfriend, Y/N, despite her knowing how to protect herself.

Warning: non translated Spanish porque luego me da flojera, errors in spelling or grammar because I don’t double check, I guess mentions of violence and sexual harassment

A/N: Based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s unreleased song “Prison For Life” which is most definitely my theme song, can’t lie. Sorry I haven’t been writing much

Y/N has always been an independent woman, she can perfectly take care of herself. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want someone to protect her.

Just a boy in a Chevy truck

He’s got money, but not too much

Walter Marshall has been a detective for the Minneapolis police department for over 10 years so he makes a decent amount of money. The day he met Y/N is certainly a day he would never forget. He parked his 2022 Chevrolet Silverado 2500 HD in the parking lot of Brits Pub and walked inside. He sat at the counter and waited for the bartender to turn around. When the bartender did, he was greeted by beautiful (your color) doe eyes and a small smile.

“Hola, guapo, I’m Y/N, what can I get ya to drink?” Y/N asked him.

“What do you recommend, love?” Walter asked. Y/N wanted to blush because of his British accent but she remained professional. It was a British pub after all so she shouldn’t really be surprised whenever a Brit comes in.

“Well, you could never go wrong with a classic Corona or a Dos Equis Lager, but that’s just me. You seem like a Heineken guy though.” Y/N said.

“I’ll take a Heineken then.” Walter said with a smile. Y/N smiled back and been to serve Walter Heineken in a frosted glass.

“Here you go. Would you want food or are you just here for the beer?” Y/N asked.

“Could I get a chicken tikka masala?” Walter asked.

“Sure thing, hun.” Y/N said, winking at him.

Half an hour later, Walter was eating his food, drinking his beer, and watching whatever the pub was playing on TV when he spotted Y/N at a table with 3 men (basically that scene in Man of Steel).

“Come on, Doll, have a drink with me, I’ll make it worth your while.” The guy in the green t shirt said.

“I already said no, I’m working. Even if I wasn’t working, the answer would be no. So unless you’re gonna order something else..” Y/N said, making her way to clear the empty beer bottle when she felt the guy grope her ass. Y/N turn and smack his hand away and the guy grabbed her wrist. “Let go.”

“Who’s gonna make me?” The guys said. Before Y/N had the chance to take her butterfly knife out of her apron pocket, she felt someone stand behind her.

“I will.” The deep British voice said. “You heard her, let her go.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy asked in an angry tone.

“I’m detective Marshall, so let her go before I arrest you for sexual misconduct and disorderly conduct.” Walter said and the guy let Y/N go while the other bartender working kicked him out. “You okay, Y/N?” Walter asked.

“Yeah, thank you for that. If you hadn’t done that, I would have stabbed him.” Y/N said,

“I Don’t believe that.” Walter said but Y/N pulled out her butterfly knife. “Oh wow, you really would have stabbed him.” Y/N chuckled at his shocked face.

“When you’re a female bartender or a woman in general, self defense is vital.” Y/N said.

“Could never be too careful. How about I buy you a drink.” Walter said.

“I can’t really drink on the job. But my shift ends in 15 minutes if you want to wait. We could go somewhere else.” Y/N said.

“That sounds perfect.” Walter said.

And he calls me “baby girl”

I run my hands through his curls

Walter and Y/N have been officially dating for 2 weeks. This was the first time Y/N spent the night at Walter���s house. She was sound asleep until Walter’s alarm woke them up. Walter shut off his alarm while Y/N covered her face with the comforter. Walter chuckled and pulled down the covers to see Y/N. He kissed her nose.

“Good morning, baby girl.” Walter said. Y/N felt butterflies every time he called her that. Y/N started to play with his curly hair.

“Good morning, guapo. What time is it?” Y/N asked. Walter checked his phone.

“It’s 6:30, love.” Walter said. Y/N groaned.

“You wake up way too early.” Y/N said. Walter got off the bed and put on his boxers.

“Well I get in at 8, I have to shower and everything. But you can rest up, baby girl, I know I tired you out last night.” Walter said, kissing her one last time. But before he left his room, he heard something that made him turn around.

“Or I can join you in your shower.” Y/N offered, batting her eyelashes. Walter groaned.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby girl.” Walter said, before leaning down on the bed to capture her lips, making out a little before lifting her off the bed, having her wrap her legs around his waist, and carrying her to the bathroom where they showered.

And my parents think he’s good and he is, rest assured

He’s anything but sweet if someone comes for me

Walter and Y/N have been dating for 3 months now, Y/N was working in the bar when she got a phone call. She told her coworker, Jason, that she was on break and went to the back room to answer the phone.

“Hello?” Y/N said.

“Hola, amor, como has estado?” Her mom said on the other line.

“Hola mami, estoy bien. Ahorita estoy trabajando, te llamo después, si?”

“Espérate mija, te llamo para decir que tu papá y yo estamos en camino para tu apartamento, nos falta dos, está bien para ti?”

“Mami, para que me visitas?”

“Una mamá ya no puede visitar a su hija o que? Solo quiero saber cómo estás, casi no hablamos. Entonces te veo luego amor, bye.” Her mom hung up and Y/N groaned, calling Walter. He picked up after 3 rings.

“Hey, baby girl, are you excited for our date?” Walter asked

“Hey, querido listen, we need to cancel our date.” Y/N said.

“Why? Are you okay?” Walter asked worriedly.

“No Yeah, everything is fine, but my parents are coming over, I just got off the phone with my mom, so now I need to get my apartment ready, so sorry.” Y/N said.

“Don’t worry, darling, it’s fine, I get it. Talk to you later, bye.” Walter said.

2 hours later, Y/N was in her apartment, she prepared penne vodka, got a bottle of Sangiovese out of the liquor cabinet, set up the dinner table, and out on something somewhat presentable before buzzing up her parents. When there was a knock on her door she opened it but was surprised to see Walter standing outside her door with a bouquet of pink peonies.

“Walter, what are you doing here? I told you my parents are coming over.” Y/N said, pulling him into the apartment.

“Yes, I know, love. But I actually wanted to meet your parents if that’s okay.” Walter said, Y/N was shocked that he actually wanted to meet her parents.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine, up, take another plate out of the cabinet while I put these in water.” Y/N said, kissing his cheek. Y/N got a vase, filled them with water, and checked to see if the stems were cut diagonally before putting them in the vase and setting them on the kitchen counter. Walter set up his place at the dinner table when the doorbell rang and Y/N buzzed her parents up. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door and Y/N opened the door to see her parents.

“Hola, mija, como has estado?” Her dad greeted her first, hugging her while entering the apartment.

“Hola papi, hola mami.” Y/N greeted back.

“Y/N, quien es este hombre tan guapo?” Her mom asked and Y/N blushed out of embarrassment.

“Ah mami, él es..”

“Buenas tardes, señora, soy Walter, el novio de su hija.” Walter held out his hand for her mom to shake. All three Latinos shocked at the fact that the handsome gringo can speak Spanish practically perfectly.

“How?” Y/N asked.

“Well i am from England, I learned Spanish in school but ever since I got a gorgeous Latina/Hispanic (whichever you prefer to be called, honestly) girlfriend, I’ve been practicing more.” Walter said.

“I love that. Bueno, ya está la comida, así que les sirvo la pasta y quizás un poquito de vino, si?” Y/N said.

Dinner went quite well and Y/N walked her parents to the lobby to say goodbye properly.

“Es un buen muchacho, Y/N. Se nota que te quiere mucho. Nos vemos luego.” Her mom said as they both left. Y/N got upstairs and saw Walter washing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N said.

“I crashed your dinner with your parents, it’s the least I could do.” Walter said.

“Thanks. So you’ve been practicing your Spanish ever since we’ve started dating?” Y/N asked him.

“Pues claro, así puedo decirte que te amo.” Walter said as he took Y/N hands in his. “I love you, Y/N, I really do. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to meet your parents today too.”

“Yo también te amo, Walter.” Y/N said. They kissed.

A week later, Walter and Y/N went to a bar so she could meet his friends/coworkers. Everything was going well until Y/N went to the bar counter to get more drinks for their booth and felt a person grab her ass, what is with people and her ass? She turned around but she already saw Walter pushing the guy away from her.

“What hell is your problem, man?” The guy yelled, clearly drunk.

“My problem is men like you thinking it’s okay to touch my girlfriend, or any woman for that matter, without their consent. I’m a cop so I suggest you leave before I arrest your drunken ass.” Walter threatened and the guy left with a huff. “You okay, baby girl?”

“Yes I am, thanks to you.” Y/N said, the bartender flagged her down for the drinks, she thanked him, and walked to the booth with Walter’s arms around her.

I’m a feminist, obviously, but I wouldn’t really mind him saving me

And I know that I’m fine without a man but I think I would like his protection

I’m just being honest, can’t change what I like, I’ll never forget it, he told me one night

“If anybody hurts you, ha, I’m going to prison for life”

Y/N was at her house, getting ready to go out with Walter, video chatting with her bestie.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you’re in love with this guy? What happened to you being an independent woman and a feminist.” Her friend said.

“I am a feminist, Don’t get me wrong. I still am an independent woman, thank you very much, I pay my bills, but i wouldn’t mind him fighting off any pervs from the fucking bar when I’m working. I’m pretty sure I’d get fired if I actually put my butterfly knife to good use.” Y/N said, doing her makeup

“I mean fair, it’s like you could do it, but you shouldn’t have to.” Her friend said.

“Exactly! Besides, all those romance novels I’ve read made me want like a protective boyfriend, those who say ‘where whatever you want, I can fight’, like a that’s so hot. I think Walter fits that description.” Y/N said, putting the finishing touches of her makeup.

“You certainly got a book boyfriend, I’ll tell you that.” Y/N was going to respond until she got a call from Walter.

“Hey baby girl, I’m downstairs, ready whenever you are.” Walter said.

“I’m coming, bye.” Y/N hung up. “Hey, (friends name), Walter is here, I gotta go.” Y/N said.

“Have fun.” Her friend said and hung up. Y/N got her bag and left the apartment to see Walter standing by his truck with a bouquet of roses in his hand this time.

“Happy 6 months, darling.” W,after said, leaning down to kiss her.

“Happy 6 months. Do I just put these in water and then we can go?” Y/N asked.

“Or you could do that after our date. Come on, I’m positive you’re going to love it.” Walter said. He drove until they made it to a park where there was a picnic table. He got out of the truck to open the door for Y/N and help her out. He went to the back to get out a picnic basket.

“Aw, this is so cute, Walter.” Y/N said, kissing him lightly.

“I’m glad you think so, love, let’s go, our date awaits.” Walter said, leading her to the table, setting everything up.

When they were done, he drove back to her place where she invited him up to have a slice of flan that she has made last night.

“This is delicious, love. You are an amazing cook.” Walter said, kissing her, her lips tasting sweet from the flan.

“Thank you, my mom taught me.” Y/N asked.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Walter said,

“Go ahead, ask me.” Y/N said,

“Whats that scar on your hip?” Walter asked. Y/N tenses up a bit but answered him anyway.

“It was after work. This was like a year ago, um, this drunk kept hitting on me, I kept saying no, when I was leaving his table, I felt his hand on my inner thigh, the one day I wear a skirt, right, and I slapped him. The manager kicked him out, my shift ended an hour later, as I was walking to my car, I felt him grab me, I was looking for my knife when I felt him cut me on my hip and I stab his hand. He screamed, I got a bunch of napkins that I kept in my purse to press it against my hip and drove to the hospital. It wasn’t that deep but it did need stitches. So yeah, that’s what happened.” Y/N said, eating another spoonful of flan. Walter took Y/N’s free hand in his, bringing it to his lips, kissing it.

“I Don’t know what to say. I wish I would have met you before, to prevent that from happening.” Walter said.

“Whats done is done, don’t dwell on it, guapo, it’s okay.” Y/N said,

“I’ll just say this, I have fought or threatened any person who has touched you or even looked at you the wrong way.” Walter started and Y/N giggled because it was true. “But I am positive that if anybody hurts you, I’m going to prison for life, I’ll always be there to protect you or fight for you.” Walter said, kissing her.

The End

Hope y’all like it! Should I make a part 2 based off the second verse and the bridge?

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #night hunter #walter marshall #latina reader

[piccionethepigeon]

Helping hand part 2

Part 1:

Part 3

Simon Riley “Ghost” X fem! Medic! Reader

Summary: in the following days ghost is acting weird and when forced to go out for drinks with his teammates Ghost runs into you things get complicated

Warnings: I don’t know jack shiii about Cod I’m just horny for beefy masked men so he could be out of character and other things inaccurate, sexual content, injury and blood, pining, clueless reader, also probably bad writing and grammar as this is not even my first lenguage , size kink, obsessive! Ghosts, marking, belly bulge, lots of shit tbh, go away minors

You were pretty sure Ghost was avoiding you, he did buy you coffe as a thanks the next day but he almost threw it in your hands and with a quick “see ya” he was gone again, and whenever you ran into him while doing your duties around base he seemed to just…puff vaporize, he would not be in a room for more than 30 seconds with you and it was kind of upsetting.

He could not be angry about the pain you caused him while mending the gunshot, he had wounds way worse than that, ugh before that your relationship with Ghost could have been considered friendship, a thing he did not give freely, he talked to you more than most, never snapping at you and always being polite, with some jokes sometimes you could even make him snort and that was the closest he got to laughing, the only think he was quite uncomfortable with was touch, if you patted him on the arm or grazed his side with yours while passing in a corridor or something his whole posture demeanor would straighten and stiffed up and quickly put distance between you two…. But he seemed fine with occasiona pats on the back and playful hitting with Soap and Alejandro… even if with Soap it was often reciprocated with a punch, but that was more of a game between them than anything since Soap just smiled and punched him too.

Huh maybe he had trauma with women? Or just didn’t feel comfortable with you like that. Fuck maybe that was also the reason he was avoiding you, you touched him too much to medicate him and he was angry or upset, maybe he felt harassed .

Panic flooded you, did you harass the man?! You did maybe overdo it with the touching but that was the only thing that came to your mind to comfort him, and now you could have lost your friendship to him…. The thought gutted you.

After avoiding y/n for days Ghost would have been pretty content laying in bed all day sulking and jerking his cock till it bled but of course the others wanted to go out for drinks and just had to drag him with them.

Now he was in a crowded pub with a glass of bourbon in his hand with his skull balaclava on looking like a freak. But drinking bourbon with a straw was better than showing his face, lately it was harder for him to go out without his mask, in crowded areas more so, all fault of the PTSD and shit.

So there he was nursing a glass of bourbon with a straw watching Pierce and Alejandro cracking jokes and ordering drinks like they were free, Soap was flirting with a tall blonde girl. Ghost usually secretly loved the nights out with his team, they made him feel normal. But his mind was still buzzing with the images of y/n kneeling between his tights, and the shame that followed it, also the shame of avoiding you for days because he felt like a bastard for beating his cock at the thoughts of a woman doing her job, but it was not any woman...but y/n….and that somehow made it worse.

So he wasn’t really in the mood for jokes or watch Soap try to fuck some girl.

The Blonde got up and slapped the shit out of Soap for a comment on her tits, and it made Ghost chuckle, the same chuckle died in his throat when he saw someone walking to their table.

Out of all fucking people it could have been it was Y/n, in the tightest and shortest black dress he ever saw in his bloody fucking life, leaving nothing to the imagination, and she was waving cheerfully at them, fuck, he drank the last of his alcohol.

“Hi guys! Having a boys night out?” Why did y/n have to be so goddamn pretty and cheerful all the time.

Alejandro replied “yes bonita, want to join us for a drink?”

You looked unsure “uhm yeah why not, but only one tough, I’m waiting for a friend and she’s going to be here soon”

Ghost was relieved… relieved that you were dressed like a dream come true only fro a friendly outing and not a date, he was not the jealous type especially for a girl that was not his…. but the idea of you with another man made his hands itch.

But it was also not ideal that you were joining them and also that the only place in the boot with a free seat was next to him. You eyed him unsure and that made him gaze soften, he was acting like a dick avoiding you for something you didn’t do, he patted the seat next to him. “Come here”

You smiled happily at him and sat right down.

Having you around was sweet sweet torture, your scent, your soft voice laughing with everyone, your warmth that he could feel radiating from you as you brushed arms with him on accident, and if he looked down accidentally with you being shorter he could look right down your cleavage.

So he started drinking alcohol like water joining his friends hoping it would help numb and calm himself.

Of course it did not, it just made his desire harder to control.

Oh and his friends definitely knew.

Soap spoke to you “Y/n come on let’s go dance a bit, the music is fucking awesome and I’m a great dancer” but as he said that to you his eyes were on ghost the whole time, being met with a sharp gaze that screamed a warning.

You laughed and playfully smacked soap on the hand he offered you “I’ve seen girls falling for your charms but I’m not charmed so easily” Soap just laughed back and then full on smirked when Ghost extended his arm on the back of the boot caging your shoulder without touching you.

When you looked inquisitively he just shrugged, “starching” he muttered while finishing another glass, alcohol definitely made him bolder and making his restraint thinner than paper.

He knew so by watching the smirks on Pierce’s and Alejandro’s faces too. The only one clueless was y/n.

He was going mad, every time he shifted his good leg it brushed on yours making him suppress a shiver, and with all the alcohol flowing in his veins he even had trouble holding his head up. On top of that y/n phone flashed with a message: her friend was sick and could not make it, meaning he had to endure that for hours.

Ghost looked around, Soap was supposed to bring drinks but he was nowhere to be seen…fucking hell there he was: going out the door with a smile so big he looked like a child with candy…holding a dark skinned brunette by the hand. He was glad for his friend to get laid but that wanker was also his ride home, well not anymore.

“That fucking wanker” he slurred.

Pierce shot him a sympathetic look “he was your ride to the base wasn’t he? You can ask y/n to give you a ride her house is close to base”

You smiled “yeah sure it’s no problem”

Ghost was tense, but nodded, didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.

You were tense, still scared that Ghost was somehow upset with you, lost in tough you didn’t even notice the 6’2 man get on his feet, and trip over them to almost crash into you steading himself at the last second putting a hand in the table.

Alejandro laughed “Ghost you’re way drinker than I thought, I’m going to help y/n walk you to her car” it was almost amusing seeing such a powerful man usually so stealthy, quick and precise struggle to keep his balance while standing.

After saying your goodbyes to Price you were grateful for Alejandro’s help, him supporting ghosts right shoulder, you the left, since the man was probably more than double your weight so impossible to carry on your own, he seemed pretty unhappy to be escorted like that but didn’t complain if not with his eyes.

Alejandro made Ghost sit in the passenger’s seat of your car, and you fastened his seatbelt your cheeks heating at the closeness.

“We’ll drive save and tuck Ghost in hoping he doesn’t throw up in his mask, goodnight”

You replied “goodnight!” While Ghost just gave him the middle finger.

The drive to the base was silent and tense, once there you helped unfasten Ghosts seatbelt and tried to get him to get up witch was pretty challenging, thankfully once out he walked on his feet. “Uhm I’ll walk you to your room so I’m sure you don’t pass out in the corridors” he just glanced at you and nodded. “Are you able to clean and change the bandage to your wound in this state?” He sighed “no I’m not but I’ll be fine” “oh that’s bullshit I’ll help you, you risk getting an infection otherwise” you argued, Ghost just grunted not having any excuse, but he knew things were stepping into dangerous territory.

The walk to his barrack was fast and when he ulivi ed his door untori heart was pounding like crazy, an you felt silly, it was just to clean his would and make sure he was not feeling sick nothing alse.

He opened the door and let you in, his place was so much like him, few posters and personal items, tidy but not perfect, a king size bed with grey sheets and just one pillow. He sat on the bed just gazing at you with an unreadable look on his eyes.

“Uh take off your pants please, that way I can reach the wound” you wandered off in the bathroom to grab gauze and give him some privacy, even if eventually you had to see him in his underwear and that made your heart pound hard in your rib cage. You could admit to yourself you had kind of a crush on him… it was silly and you could not let it make him uncomfortable.

Eventually you had to get back and there he was sitting on the bed with his legs spread, his black boxers doing nothing to hide how uhm well endowed he was. Don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it. You walked over and got on your knees, Ghosts inhaled a sharp breath.

You felt guilty he was clearly uncomfortable, starting to clean the would you were carful to touch him only when necessary then spoke “Ghost… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I patched you up I really didn’t mean to, you just seem to be avoiding me” you looked up and his gaze was scorching and glued on you.

Ghost was still feeling bold from the alcohol and could not pretend anymore. “I was acting weird only because I could not stop imagining you on your knees for me, your pretty mouth on my cock” your face was burning “oh fuck off your drunk stop joking around” you squealed. He just cocked his head and just kept staring a you.

You finished changing the gauze and stood up abruptly just to find yourself still in between his legs and your tits almost to his face. “ Oh I- I have finished you can go to sleep now and I’ll leave you a-alone” “I’ll go to sleep only if you give me a kiss goodnight” his gaze was piercing, you wanted to so bad oh fuck but he was drunk he didn’t really want that… if it was over the mask it could not count right? Trembling you lowered your face and spliced your lips where his shoulder be under the mask they were so warm even under the fabric and the heat spread from your lips to your core.

“H-happy now?”

“That was a shit kiss, this is a real bloody kiss”

Before you could even comprehend the sentence a hand was on your eyes and a sound of fabric shifting before hot chapped lips smashed on yours, it was just a peck at fist but then his lips gently coaxed your mouth open and his tongue entered your mouth, it felt like e was devouring you the best way possible.

Fuck he was so good with his mouth that it made your head spin. Nonono this was wrong he was drunk he… felt so good fuck. A moan escaped your lips only making him kiss you with more fervor.

After a while his lips sadly left yours and you were pretty sure you were wet not only on your mouth.

He placed his mask back before removing his hand from your eyes. Then you felt Ghosts strong arms cage you while his heated eyes gazing straight into yours still. In less than a second he shifted and moved you like you weighted nothing, before realizing it you were on his bed under him, his huge body caging yours.

His hips flush to yours and you could feel it pressing on your core… it was hard and huge making you grind on him without meaning to and his hips bucked making you moan, his breath on your neck Ghost spoke “I want this, I want you so bad… so you want that?” His voice betrayed uncertainty.

You whimpered and nodded.

“I need you to say it? Please doll” he asked.

Your mouth was still full of his taste and you gulped. “ yes yes please, touch me Ghost”

He looked at you and something in his eyes snapped, he grabbed your dress and ripped it off you making you yelp.

“H-hey I liked that”

“I’ll buy you a new one” his voice was deeper than usual thick with his own arousal.

He discarded his shirt then making you stare in awe, he was so damn hot, he was muscled but beefier than models or people who trained for aesthetics but even more gorgeous, because those were muscles made for strength. Every scar he wore on his torso only bothered you because it was a visual reminder of all the pain he went thru.

Ghost was breathing hard “ you’re so fucking beautiful, fuck” his hands were all over your body caressing, squeezing, teasing, like he was trying to memorize the look and feel of your body.

Then out of nowhere he snapped your panties and bra off, one hand on your boobs groping them gently before giving attention to the nipples tweaking them gently between his fingers then with the other hand he began touching your folds smearing the slick “Fuck you’re so wet and soft, looking like a damn dream, and I bet you’ll feel like one too, can’t wait to have my col buried in you” the dirty talk made your face burn and your pussy clench “but I’ll have to prepare you well or this is going to hurt, I’m much bigger than you, and I want you only to feel good” you thoughts were barely coherent any only moans and his name could leave your lips “G-Ghost” your hips raising to get more friction on his fingers, he started to pet your clit and fuck he was also good at that making you moan shamelessly.

He then inserted one digit while touching your clit with his palm , then a second digit, then a third and the stretch was stinging but he moved his fingers gently and the palm on your clit was pleasurable. Meanwhile you palmed him though is underwear with one hand and the other on I’m his huge tattooed arm to keep yourself grounded. He moved his fingers faster and faster your cunt making squelching noises. “G-ghost gonna c-cum soon!” You slurred “not yet doll the first time you’ll come is going to be on my cock” he said in your ear and removed his fingers, the emptiness was unbearable for a few moments before he discarded his underwear letting you see him in all his glory, a deep v line ending a thick uncut cock that was now very hard and dripping.

The sight alone was overwhelming but existing, he grabbed it and started to rub it in your folds to slick it up then centered it to go in but stopped “i’m going in alright?” Is voice was hoarse.

“Yes yes please Simon”

He groaned “I love my name on your lips” then bottomed out in a single slow thrust.

It felt like too much and stung a bit but it was also so fucking good you could not stop mewling.

“Fuck that’s it you’re taking me so well, good girl”

His voice made you shiver and you looked down, he was stretching you to the limit and there was also a small bulge in your lower belly.

“Fuck Simon please move” and so he did slow at first to get you used to his size then harder and harder making you moan and sink your nails in his back, was groaning and occasionally swearing in your ear adding a lot to the pleasure together with the delicious friction of his pelvis on your clit every time he bottomed out, his top kissing your cervix.

“Simon i-I’m gonna cum gonna c-“ you moaned.

“Cum for me doll milk my cock” and so you did clenching and screaming his name.

But he kept on moving stretching your orgasm impossibly long turning it into overstimulation but even that was fucking delicious.

“Love I’m going to cum can I do it inside of you? Hell I want to so bad”

“Yes yes I’m on birth control please fill me up”

At that he lifted up his mask to kiss you passionately while he grunted and fucked his seed lmpossibly deep into you.

You were struggling to catch your breath and si did he after lifting his mask up again, but he was still hard inside of you.

“Doll are you up for another round?”

His soldier stamina would probably kill you but it would have been a glorious death.

“Yeah”

And he went again making you scream even louder.

After that you probably fell asleep because it was now morning, you were sore between your legs and a bit sticky even tough you were sure he cleaned you up with a towel before joining you in bed again.

His tattooed arm was draped over you squishing you a bit but it was comforting. It was the best night of your life but… what if he was only drunk and rejected you as soon as he woke up? That thought was crushing.

You didn’t even have time to think about that, work was in half an hour, I guess thankfully the barracks were so close to base.

With some struggling you slipped away from under a sleeping Ghost and took a shower, noticing in the mirror after that he left a huge hickey on your neck during the night. Uh that would be hard to hide.

With the dress ripped you had no choice but steal a shirt and hoodie to wear, and thankfully emergency leggings into your bag. The problem was the hoodie was clearly too big on you, meaning all base would know you hooked up, making all day a walk of shame, and his scent o the clothes would remind you all day of the previous night.

Slipping out the door you glanced at a Ghost once last time, what a dork he even slept with that mask, the feeling in your chest was more than a crush and you knew it.

Author note: I just wanted to to thank you all for liking the first part of the fic I never expected that many likes 💗 I never expected so many likes, that means y’all are probably mentally ill like me and spend your free time reading or writing about masked men’s dicks and I respect that, let me know if y’all wanna be tagged in part 3

(Also I know hitting the Cervix isn’t that fuck irl but it sound hot so let me be delusional)

Tags: @atlantic-sugar

#mutual pining #angst #simon riley x f!reader #call of duty ghosts #call of duty #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod imagine #cod simon riley #mw2 #fluff #mw2 imagine #Simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley #smut #ghost mw2

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Protecting You Forever

(A/N- We need more comfort fanfiction about RL so I’m here to provide. Also I’m proofreading this late at night so misspelling is probably there)

RL! Bela Dimitrescu x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Mild NSFW mentions about you and Bela, partying, alcohol, swearing, sexual harassment but nothing major, BELA COMFORT)

Now playing: “Everything I Wanted” by Billie Eilish

You and Bela have been dating for a few months now but it feels like it’s been forever. Bela was perfect for you, always treating you well, taking care of you, you name it. Before dating you Bela just worked on paperwork, she had no time to have fun. It’s not like she cared though, when it comes to the school counsel what has to be done, has to be done no matter what. Then you came along and became her world.

She had promised herself that she’ll take some time off for you. To make sure that you feel loved and treasured like a priceless gem. Usually she’ll take you on dates or spend time in her dorm and it leads to other delightful things. Though today you were invited to a party by one of your good friends Angie and wanted to bring Bela along.

Bela is not the party type and she rather spend one-on-one time with you but if this party is another way to make you smile then she’ll go.

....

You’ve been at the party for about an hour now, chatting with friends and acquaintances, doing chaotic shit with Angie while Bela almost has a heart attack for y’all’s recklessness. And of course a Angie-style party is never complete without alcohol. With a bunch of drunks in a large room together stuff is bound to go down.

Everything was all good until this girl came up to you when Bela wasn’t around. At first she started some small talk asking your name and how your day’s been. It was clear that she was drunk from her movements to her speech. She was close to you, a bit too close for comfort. During your conversations she would pat your back and hit your thigh multiple times. The first few times you brushed it off and ignored it but as time went by you began to feel uncomfortable.

You could tell that the touches wasn’t just a casual friendly gesture, it had an ulterior motive to them. You can just sense it. You wondered where Bela was at, she couldn’t have gone far right?

All the sudden you hear loud footsteps coming from behind, in no time you see someone appear in front of you. It was the goddess herself, your girlfriend Bela with fury burning in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you. Can’t you see that she’s uncomfortable?” Bela says to the drunken woman with such hostility.

The intoxicated woman stood straight up and clenched her fists, trying to intimidate Bela. Which failed and only made her even more pissed. You quickly grabbed Bela wrist, turning her attention to you and softened her gaze a bit when she saw the discomfort in your eyes.

“Let’s get out of here, I want to leave.” You say, hoping that Bela will listen and not catch a charge for beating a bitch to a pulp.

She thinks for a moment before exhaling, turning to face the woman behind her. “If you ever fucking think about touching her again I will make sure you’ll regret it.” Bela states with pure disgust evident in her eyes. She can’t wrap her head around why someone would commit such an act like this. It’s disgustingly inhumane.

The woman huffed in annoyance before walking off, leaving the both of you. Bela turns and holds out her hand for you to hold, in which you do so and she swiftly leads you through the crowd all the way to the exit. As soon as you got outside, a breath of relief came out of your mouth.

Thankfully there wasn’t anybody close by, finally some peaceful and quiet.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Bela says, she wants to pull you into a tight hug but she doesn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable considering what you had just experienced.

As Bela patiently waited for a response, she saw you come closer to her and wrap your arms around her waist. “Yeah just a bit uncomfortable. I can still feel her touch linger on me, but I’m fine now that you’re here with me.” You say as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck.

After you spoke those words she reciprocated the hug and rubbed your back up and down in a comforting way. The two of you stayed there for a moment, enjoying each other’s warm and comforting aura, while the cool midnight breeze hits your skin.

Bela pulls away to look you in the eyes before speaking, “It’ll be practically impossible to protect you from all of the cruelty in this world, but listen to me, no matter what you experience I’ll always be here to save you from it.”

You gave her a small smile before saying a quiet thank you just above a whisper. A light blush appears across Bela’s cheeks and pulls you back into her comforting embrace, kissing your temple.

“It’s no problem, I’ll protect you forever my love.”

Masterlist

#*sigh* #why doesn’t Bela exist in real life #resident lover #resident lover bela #resident evil fanfiction #bela dimitrescu #bela x reader

[igotanidea]

Not like them : Nikolai Lantsov x reader

idea/requests by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog : Reader is friends with Alina, met with Nikolai, who is smitten with her, but she reject al his advances since he remind her too much of the men who sexually harassed her in the past. But when reader starts flirting with Tolya, the price just could not hold it anymore.

I changed some things so they would fit the story better, but hope you'll like it :)

***

„You know he’s harmless, right? Just a bit too cocky and self-confident, but apart from that….” Alina started, taking a seat next to her friend on Volkvolny

“I know.” Y/N cut her off before the sun summoner could even finish the sentence “but those are men like him who …..” her voice broke a little.

“I’m sorry.” Alina looked down. “I never meant to remind you of the past.”

“Not your fault.” The other girl sighed deeply and looked at the ocean.

Back in the days, before she met Alina, she had her fair share of traumatic events. As if it wasn’t hard enough to be born into an esteemed Grisha family and yet, also being the only one who held no powers. Zero. Zip. Nada. Unless you count her social awkwardness and a bit of quirkiness.

And that…. well, it led to some complications, to say the least. Although no one ever said that straight  to her face, she was a black sheep of the family and it was showing in every gesture, every word and every action taken towards her. She was treated condescendingly, humiliatingly and blamed for so many things that were simply beyond her control ….

One day she just couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. Made a mess. Screamed at the top of her lungs. The quiet girl who was taking all the tease became a snarky, snappy, sarcastic and quick to respond woman.

Oh, if that girl ever held any power she would be an Inferni, no doubt about it. She just seemed to have an answer for everything, was not afraid and that blunt, big mouth caused her some trouble. Let’s just say that her father did not like the attitude. Despite her being ordinary, from that day she was practically forced to participate in a straight-regime training wish Grisha just to punish and humiliate her. And her inadequacy was quickly noticed by some of the guys there.

And used.

One night after particularly extreme practice, when she was walking home alone, tired, exhausted and barely moving her legs three of them laid out for her, grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the nearest empty house on the roadside.

“Get the fuck off me!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, squirming against the tight grip, but she was too small and too weak to fight against her oppressors. “I will not…..”

“Will you just shut up?” one of the boys said, tightening the grip on her. “You were asking for it from the moment you showed up amongst us. You don’t belong here. You’re not a Grisha.”

“Well you don’t deserve that position either!” she spat and that got her a slap on the face. Oh, that boy was surely not holding back his strength. “Fuck you!” she screamed

“I think opposite.” He smirked  taking a step forward “wonder if you’ll act the same when we are done with you. What do you think, gentlemen? Shall we draw lots who would be the first to play with her?”

Shit. She had to do something. Anything. But how could she possibly fight against three grown-up men? She was turning her head around frantically, using the fact that at this point her capturers started quarreling about the order of ……

And their absent-mindedness gave her a bit of leverage when she quickly wriggled herself free and started running as fast as she could. She might have been smaller but it also made her faster and due to some miracle she managed to escape. That was a relief, but her frantically beating heart, disheveled hair, torn coat and dirt on her knees was not something her parents accepted. They were disgusted by her outlook. And of course, she could never tell them what really (almost) happened. They would never believe her. Instead, she took her punishment, throwing some sarcastic comments, clenched her jaw and tried to move forward.

But the trauma stayed.

And those men got away with everything, and even worse – from that fateful evening started to harass her even more. Verbally. Throwing dirty jokes about her body, grabbing her while passing and making efforts to get her alone again, claiming that this was what she wanted.

And she snapped again. Causing a scandal, since after all she was a “no one” who dared to attack Grisha.

Since there was no one who could help her, she just escaped her hometown and were on the run since then.

And that was how she met Alina and Mal, who were probably the first people to accept her fully, never judge her and become her friends for good and for bad. They knew each other for a couple years now and there was nothing that these three wouldn’t do for each other.

Hunting for the seawhip amplifier included. And dealing with one, stupidly annoying price Nikolai Lanstov.

Y/N did not like him from the very beginning. Of course, he was annoyingly handsome with that infuriating smile and contagious laugh, with those shiny eyes that seemed to sparkle even more when he was at sea and his unruly, thick, curly hair.

But his attitude?

Just like Alina said. Cocky. Arrogant. Conceited. Sarcastic and so full of himself. This reminded her of those men from her past. And it was not a good memory. Therefore for the last weeks she has been avoiding him like a plague, trying to shield herself from the trip down memory lane. And both Mal and Alina supported her in this, while knowing where it came from. And they were never going to tell her secret.

The rest of the crew however, did not understand a thing. Especially Tamar and Tolya. They were a bit surprised that someone could have so much irony and  power to make their friend Nikolai speechless. She was probably the only girl who could begin to compare with Nikolai in the field of hiding true feelings and using irony as a defense, a shield. And that boy just loved to spite her.

And speaking of the devil…..

“Are you ladies enjoying the view?” upon hearing Sturmhond voice Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“Be nice.” Alina hissed turning around towards the prince.

“nice. sure. It’s not like you were the one to punch him the second we found out his true identity.” Y/N spat back

“That was only because you are slower than me…”

“It’s not like we are on vacation.” Y/N spit before Alina managed to stop her “In case you forgot, tsarevich.”

“Not with you to remind me. You should relax a bit, sunshine.” Nikolai smirked with that characteristic face expression that made Y/N clench her fists. He was just so freaking annoying. “And since you two are clearly gossiping here, may I ask who is the subject of those gossips?”

“What makes you think it was a person?” Y/N crossed arms over her chest, eying Nikolai with the most stern expression she could produce.

“Call it instincts. So?”

“No one you would know.”

“Really? Wanna bet I can find out who’s the lucky guy? I got resources to do that.”

“Saints! Only you can start bragging out of nowhere.” The hell Y/N was going to listen to Alina’s advice to be nice.

“That’s just a casual reminder that nothing can hide from me. And definitely not that blush on you face Y/N.”

“I am not…..”  

“Oh, you are. Is it because of me Y/N?”

“Pffff.” She scoffed and blew a raspberry. The fact was she was blushing, but the person who caused it was yet to approach them.

Tolya.

Even since she met him on the deck of Volkvolny he sparked something in her. Despite all her bad experiences and deeply hidden disgust and fright of men.

He was just different.

Y/n never knew a man who would recite poetry and be so … openly caring and romantic and courting and protective and ….

To say the least, she was a bit smitten by him.

Or maybe she was just deflecting.

But it was hard to hide that Tolya’s appearance immediately put a smile on her face.

“Are you ladies enjoying the trip?” he absentmindedly asked the exact same question as Nikolai

“I always enjoyed being in the open.” Y/N looked at him with glistening, bright eyes. Her answer, so different than before, got Nikolai pop his eyes and open his mouth wide. “Cat got your tongue, Nikolai?” she laughed lightly and it was his turn to blush. Once again, she got him speechless. And he hated that.

“Yes.” Tolya took a deep breath and closed his eyes a bit “That remind me of…..”

“Oh, no, please, do not recite the poetry again” Tamar chimed in, before her brother could say a word

“Just because you, my dear sister, cannot fully appreciate the beauty of the art, doesn’t mean that pretty lady Y/N cannot as well.”

“Pretty?” Y/N smirked. “isn’t that a little condescending?”

“It never meant to be.” The Shu man exhaled and his gaze focused on her “did you take it like that?”

“No. I don’t think I did. But still, I bet you tell that to every girl you meet.” She dared

“I haven’t met much girl lately. At least not since you, Y/N.”

“Oh….”

“is it just me or are those two openly flirting with each other?” Alina whispered to Tamar, who were barely holding back a chuckle

“Looks like it.” Tamar gasped “Wonder who’s gonna make the bigger fool of oneself.”

“Nikolai, I think. Just look at his face. Not so reserved anymore.”

“Wait. You don’t seriously think that he might…..”

“I know him longer than you, Alina. I think he does. Just wait and see….”

“I did however, have many adventures and many stories I can entertain you with, Y/N. If you’d like to listen, of course.”

“Of course!” she practically exclaimed “It would be such a relief to listen to someone who can talk about interesting  things.”

“Y/N, you mind if I have a quick word with you beforehand?” Nikolai tried his best to act casual, but it was no use.

“Told ya.” Tamar raised an eyebrow at Alina

“Um, yes, I actually do mind” Y/N tilted her head. She just loved to dare Nikolai and push him past his boundaries.

“Too bad. “ he shrugged “I am the captain. You’re on my ship. So you will listen.”

“I am not…..”

“Now.” Nikolai commanded and that harsh attitude took everyone, Y/N included, by surprise. Sturmhond was not exactly known to lose his cool and temper.

***

“What?” Y/N spat the second he closed the door to the cabin. She was not even going to hide how furious she was at him “what on saints was so important that you just couldn’t wait a while?!”

“You.”

“Me?” she frowned “what …..?”

“I don’t understand you.” he sighed “I just don’t. And believe me, I’m trying. ”

“What the…..?” she tried again, but he didn’t let her finish, taking a step forward, making her retrieve until her back hit his desk. The intense look in his eyes made her panic slightly. Saints. She was trapped. Again. With no way to hide. Suddenly her mind took her back to the past, to that barn, reminding her of her oppressors, of the past, of what happened, of how she was alone and hurting and forced to move past her trauma. “No….” her body trembled and she completely lost contact with reality, too immersed in the past “No…. please…. not again.” tears started falling down her cheeks and she sobbed desperately.

“Y/N?” Nikolai voice became alerted in a second, his gaze softening while looking at her, so broken and vulnerable. He had no idea what he did and why she acted like that. “Y/N, what happened? Hey, please, I …..” he hesitated, not sure whether to hug her or not.

“I hate you!” she cried out

“Why?” he sounded broken

“you are  just like them!”

“Like who?” this was all just too confusing for him

“Like those guys who tried to …. to…..hurt me” she shook again, hiding her face in hands and trembling again.

“Oh, love….” Now it became painfully clear and Nik could not hold back his instincts anymore, extending his arms and wrapping them around her, pulling her close, letting her cry into his chest, rubbing soothing circles on her back “I’m so sorry.” He whispered “But it’s ok. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. Not when I’m around. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How….how can you be like that?” she pulled back slightly, her broken gaze landing on him “How can you be so much like them with your attitude and confidence and smugness and yet, so different? I … I don’t understand it….. I ……”

“Y/N.” he smiled at her, cupping her cheek and rubbing her tears away “Look me in the eyes. Please.” she unwillingly raised her gaze and their orbs met “is that why you have been avoiding me and acting so rough and cruel? Tell me.” Nikolai said softly, not to startle her

“Yes.” She admitted, her voice shaking “that and …..”

“And what?”

“I can’t say it…..”

“Then let me.” he smiled “I fell for you. the second I saw you with your fiery eyes and sparkling eyes. The moment you slapped me down with that bad girl attitude of yours. Saints, Y/N, if I knew about…..”

“You cannot tell anyone about it!” she panicked again, struggling against his hold, but he only held her closer.

“Saints, girl! I’m telling you I love you and you keep projecting. Listen to me. Just listen.” Once again, he cupped her cheek and forced her distracted eyesight on him, the other hand resting on the small of her back. “I love you.” he simply said and somehow she knew he was telling the truth.

“You are not supposed to…..” she tried to object.

“Oh, saints!” Nikolai hissed, now completely drained of patience. He was done talking. Instead he just leaned forward and captured her lips in his. Oh, he wanted to satiate his hunger of having her, but at the same time, founding about her past made him slow down a bit. So instead of devouring her fully, he settled on moving his mouth on her slowly, softly, pouring all his feelings for her into that kiss. Trying to tell her, without using words, that whatever she may have thought about him, he cared. That he wasn’t like them. That he would never hurt her. He would protect her. He wanted her all to himself. And the sight of her flirting with Tolya turned him jealous and possessive. Hoping she would feel all that, conveyed by a kiss.

And the second he touched her, he was gone. The feel of her pressed against him, the fact that he finally, finally cold have her so close, not fighting against him, not spiting and biting and bittering was just too much for the poor boy. Prince, yes, but still, a boy in love, afraid of having his heart broken and scared of rejection, no matter how indifferent he may act.

But the way her hands immediately found a way up his arms and locked on his neck, how she moved slightly towards him, hugging and kissing him back with the same fire as he did, told him that maybe, maybe¸ those feelings were not one-sided. Saints, he could not get enough of the feeling of her lips and skin, the softness of her hair tickling his face, wishing he could just hold her like that forever, but eventually they both had to pull back for air. And when they did, he opened eyes, focusing on her beautiful face. She kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily, trying to contain everything she felt at the moment and processing it.

“Y/N….” he whispered, brushing his lips over her forehead, awaiting any words from her with his heart beating rapidly, almost out of his chest.

“I…. I think I love you too.”  She gasped, almost inaudibly, but he heard those words. The most beautiful words he could ever imagine.

“Of course you do. How could you not?” he laughed, but it was different than before. Not conceited or sarcastic, much rather laced with love, care and so much relief that she reciprocated.

“Stop ruining the moment!” she hit his arm, but smiled lightly and he couldn’t help but peck her lips again.

“do you think they know?” he asked, obviously referring to the rest of the crew

 “Who cares about them?”

“For once, I can agree with you” he pulled her closer again, the second kiss being more heated and passionate and she did not oppose to being showered in his attention and affection, not holding his desire back.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fluff #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fic

[adidastain]

moron

90s trey parker x fem!reader (y/n)

warnings: angst, indirect sexual harassment, implied alcohol & drug use, smut (vaginal penetration), virginity loss, violence (trey gets smacked for being a a perv)

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.); the beginning is kind of rough so just bear with me. also this is a oneshot but oh my god why is it so fucking long; he looks like such a faggot in the image its so funny

word count: SEVEN THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED NINETY FOUR (7194)

—

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Trey responded, seemingly not wanting to risk getting any more messed up on another dare. His temples looked sweaty and his entire body was limp and relaxed, flush with the back of his chair. I, personally, was miles away. I was the only girl left at this party (if you could even call it a “party”; there were only about seven people at this point) and it was way too late for me to be awake. 

“What’s your ideal type?” Our friend, Dian, asked him. “Like the woman of your dreams.”

Matt laughed, keeping his eyes closed as he too was completely relaxed and almost melting into the couch. I kept my gaze on Trey, watching his lips curl into a devilish smile as he finished his thought process and formed an answer. 

“Virgin,” He said simply. Something about his tone and the way his face looked as he and the other guys laughed it out made my face burn up. Not in a good way. I wanted to shoot myself in the head.

Matt, Trey, and a few other guys all just chuckled, seemingly agreeing with each other. It was like I wasn’t even there. Granted, I barely was, and in their defense, none of them could have known that I myself had never had sex before. But I figured this was a conversation they would save for a “boy’s night.” Maybe they were too far from sober to care. 

“It can’t be that good,” Dian argued. I wasn’t entirely sure if he had actually ever had sex or not either. Not that I cared. I didn’t know him that well anyway. 

“It is,” Matt and Trey said in unison. My gaze stuck to my hands in my lap, trying to check out of the conversation and humming What’s Up? while plugging one of my ears. It wasn’t uncommon for the boys to be pervy like this even while I’m around, but ever since I moved in with them, it’s been happening way more often and it was starting to get old. 

“It’s insane,” Matt said calmly, tilting his head back. “They get so worked up over basically nothing.”

“Drenched in like, two seconds,” Trey added. 

For some reason, I felt betrayed. I didn’t really care what Matt had to say; I knew he got around a lot and I’m pretty sure he thought I was lesbian anyway. Trey’s words hit me harder. We’d been friends since we were 16 and he’d stood up for me on multiple occasions, when drunk assholes at bars or parties would try to make moves on me. Maybe he just wanted to show off. He was being ignorant at my expense. 

I cracked my knuckles and tilted my head to pop my neck on either side, not getting any sense of relief or a satisfying pop in any of my efforts. I was still tense and stiff. I was still uncomfortable. 

“Dude and once you get in there… fuck, man,” Matt mumbled, hitting his fist against the coffee table. 

Trey nodded, grinning. “That’s the best fucking part-”

The blonde yelped slightly as my hand collided with the back of his head, causing his entire body to jerk forward and the room to go quiet. 

“I’m a virgin, you asshole!” I shouted, staring down at him. His eyes held a pretty intense look of shock, fear, and anger, before subtly shifting more towards a guilty, cowardly look. “Just ‘cause I live here now doesn’t mean you guys can talk about shit like that in front of me! Wait till I’m asleep or something, fuck!” 

By the time my sentence was almost over, I had tears streaming down my face. I instantly regretted hitting him, but I’d already reacted before I even thought about how I was going to react. All the nights where I went to bed irritated and just let them talk like that were just piling up and finally toppled over. My feet carried me to my bedroom before my hands slammed the door shut behind me. I paced around, waving my hands and forcing deep breaths through my nose as I cried. 

The panic came from the shock of my own reaction. I can’t believe I hit him. That was so embarrassing too, the way I’d yelled and started crying right after. They must all think I’m psycho. 

I let my hair out of my claw clip and threw it on the floor, taking deep breath after deep breath until I stopped crying and my eyes were puffy. I still very much felt that swell in my throat that threatened more tears. I was far from done crying, but I forced myself to stop before my makeup got any more fucked up and I looked like a pile of sad shit. 

Why did I even care? I lived there. It shouldn’t have mattered to me how I looked. I could kick those people out if I wanted to. They didn’t have to see my face, red, puffy and wet from tears.

“Y/N?” I heard an unmistakable voice outside my door. I knew exactly who it was. “It’s Trey, um… Can you let me in?” 

I swallowed back the remaining tears, rolling my eyes before wiping my face on the black baby tank I was wearing. I stood in the doorway as I opened the door, preventing him from taking any steps further into my space. His head immediately snapped up from looking at his feet to looking in my eyes, where he likely found the most annoyed, unamused, impatient, pissed off gaze he’d ever seen. 

“M-Matt told me to apologize,” He mumbled, looking down at his hands as they fidgeted with themselves. His blonde hair was messy and hung low over his face, partially covering his eyes and eyebrows. 

“Hmph. At least Matt can read a room,” I muttered. I knew that Trey could read a room too, it just was that, more often than not, he didn’t care to and liked to push people’s boundaries sometimes. Now was one of those rare situations where he crossed the line before Matt could stop him. 

This only made Trey more ashamed, it seemed. He laughed slightly, his face smushed into his palms. 

“It’s not funny,” I told him, crossing my arms. My heart had started beating faster since I’d stopped crying. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna cry again, if I was mad at Trey, or something else. “You’re fucking gross. All of you.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” He said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

His apology still felt fake. I knew he was shit at apologizing, since it was pretty much against what he stood for, but you would think he’d be able to apologize to his best friend of almost ten years. Then again, maybe I overestimated him. 

“...Have you been crying?” Trey asked cautiously. 

“No, this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to me. YES, I’ve been crying, fucking dick,” I mumbled. “You’ve been the person I trust the most for the past nine years and suddenly that feeling is long gone. It’s kind of fucking heartbreaking, Trey. I can’t even look at you without feeling gross.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Trey just looked down, swallowing harshly as he rubbed the back of his head. That reminded me. 

“Bet that hurts,” I said coldly. I hid the genuine concern I felt for him behind my harsh tone, not wanting him to know that I did feel guilty about hitting him. I just hoped he knew that he kind of deserved it. 

“Yeah, like a bitch,” He laughed. “Not the worst I’ve taken, though.”

“I can hit you harder,” I offered, shrugging. 

“If I say something gross will you hit me as hard as you can?” He asked me, caressing his chin as he thought. Somehow he’d managed to distract me from why I was even upset. I let him in my room and closed the door behind me, nodding in response to his question as I prepared my hand. 

“Okay, um…” he said. He sounded antsy and… excited. I was starting to feel a little better; maybe this was his way of entertaining me in order to stop me from being upset anymore. 

He did this when we were teenagers too. He’d do stupid things to himself or make fun of himself to make me laugh. Trey rarely ever confronted me about my feelings and asked what was wrong. He would just try to fix it. We were a lot closer back then; many nights I’d accidentally fall asleep against him after crying for several hours. His arms around me, hands stroking my hair, heart beating against mine…

Now we were adults and everything had to be crude all the time. The true “man” in him really started to shine through once I began hanging out with him and Matt, and eventually started living with them. I guess the fact that I was a virgin somehow never came up between me and Trey or anybody, really. I had no girl friends. 

“Hmm… You’re taking too long. I don’t wanna hit you anymore,” I stated, turning towards my door. I never wanted to hit you in the first place. 

“No, no! Wait, just wait. Hold on,” he told me, holding my forearm. He was much closer to me now, having pulled me away from the door as he grabbed me and subconsciously held me closer. I felt my cheeks turn red as he leaned in, giggling slightly, and whispered, “I bet your… I bet you would… you’d feel so good, um, wrapped… wrapped around… I don’t know.”

Trey couldn’t even get through the sentence without laughing, pausing every few words to giggle. Unfortunately, his laughter was contagious and caused me to start giggling as well. His hand moved up to my upper arm as his forehead met my shoulder. 

“You fucking dick,” I said, relaxing my hands. My arms slid over his waist to wrap around his torso. “I hate you. Don’t say shit like that again.” 

His laughter calmed and he leaned back, looking in my eyes. “I won’t. I-I am really sorry. I’m sure Matt is too. We didn’t know-”

“I know. It’s fine,” I said, almost whispering. “And I don’t really give a fuck about Matt. It’s you that I think needs to be taught a lesson.”

Trey’s face lit up slightly, his wide eyes widening further. The blonde grew a devilish smirk. “And what lesson is that? Sharing is caring? Treat others how you wanna be treated?” 

“To shut up once in a while,” I said, putting my hand over his mouth. “You might get more girls if you’re not constantly making jokes about how tight their vagina is, hm?” 

Trey scoffed. “I don’t need ‘girls’. I’ll have you someday,” he stated, poking my nose with his fingertip. 

My hand met his cheek in a lighter, but still harsh, playful slap, before I let go of him and took a step back. “Excuse me?” I laughed, feeling my face burn again. This time, in a good way. 

“The only girl I need is right in front of me,” He beamed, clear mischief present in his eyes. “And… And I know I’ve messed up a few times but I’m still waiting for her. I always have been.” 

Suddenly his tone became softer and more serious. His smile was replaced with a nervous bite of his lower lip.

Tonight was a fucking roller coaster and I felt like I didn’t have a seatbelt on. 

“Trey…” I squeaked, watching as he took a single step closer to me. 

He ignored me. “And I feel like an idiot around her. I am an idiot,” He laughed, swallowing harshly. His eyes darted around my face, looking for my reaction. I was frozen in shock. “And now I’m messing it up again.” 

“She’s here,” I said softly, holding my arms tensely. The situation was completely foreign and completely out of left field. “She misses you. E-Even though you never really went anywhere…”

I backed up against the wall next to my door. “And she feels safe with you. Even though you’re an idiot sometimes,” I said, smiling slightly. Trey laughed and came closer to me, continuing to speak as his hands carefully caressed my waist. 

“I miss her too,” He whispered, leaning closer. “And… And I wanna taste her lips so bad.” 

I felt his forehead collide with mine and his body move closer, his hands softly squeezing my torso. This was not the first time we’d been in this position, believe it or not; we just didn’t go any further. That fateful night at the club after our first day at college had been blocked out from my memory for the past seven years, until right about now.

“She wants you to kiss her,” I whispered, staring at his lips. “So bad.” 

Without much more hesitation, Trey leaned forward, just barely grazing my lips with his to see my reaction. More, I thought as hard as I could, hoping he’d be able to read my mind. His eyelids lowered and he smiled, kissing me again. 

I exhaled, not realizing how long I’d been holding my breath. My body sort of melted as he kissed me more, his right hand moving up to caress my face while his left held tight onto me, pulling himself closer. Trey kissed me gently, but with haste. 

“I guess you have a thing for virgins?” I laughed slightly, humming as he kissed me again and carefully started to lift up my shirt. I let him run his warm hands underneath the fabric and explore my body, while his mouth started to venture onto my neck and shoulders. My own hands ran through his hair, which was still slightly damp from the shower he took in the middle of the “party” he was supposed to be hosting. There was something wrong with him. 

Trey lowered his voice, moving his lips right over my ear. “Sorta. Not ‘cause they're tight or anything, though,” He explained softly, tracing small circles into my hips. “If I tell you the real reason, you can’t judge me. At all.”

He pulled away from my neck, looking me in the eyes to see if I would agree. “Talk to me,” I said, twirling a strand of his hair on the back of his neck. 

Trey leaned back in, pressing his nose against my forehead. “I just like the feeling of… like, feeling like I’m turning them to like, the dark side,” He said, laughing slightly at his word choice. “That’s a stupid way to put it, but y’know.”

“You like corruption,” I said simply, raising my eyebrows at him to tease him. Idiot. 

“...Yes,” he said, sounding slightly unsure. “Something like that.” 

“Weirdo,” I joked, pushing him off of me slightly. In reality, I sort of liked having a conversation like this with him. It made me realize how much I didn’t know about him, despite calling him my best friend for the past decade. Maybe these were the kinds of things only… more-than-friends would have.

He laughed, diving back in to kiss me while his hands worked through my hair, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. 

“Have you french-kissed before?” he asked me, barely leaving me any space to answer as he kept smothering my lips with his. 

“Yes, Trey. I’m not twelve,” I answered, not letting his tongue into my mouth despite his best efforts. I liked the feeling of him desperately trying to push through my lips, then giving up, then trying again. 

“How would I know? A virgin at 25…” He said defensively. “You might as well be Mormon at this rate.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. He had a weird thing about Mormons. Maybe it was related to the corruption thing. He just laughed, grabbing my jaw with his whole hand so he could stick his tongue in my mouth. Fuck. Fucking dick caught me off-guard. 

I let him explore my mouth with his tongue, the muscle warm and wet; he tasted like tequila. It was fucking intoxicating. 

Unfortunately, my reaction to the sensation was much more vocal than I wanted it to be. I softly moaned in bliss, his mouth attached to mine as the noise escaped me. I felt him smile and open his mouth up wider, encouraging me to take my own turn exploring his mouth. Trey’s hand slid down from my jaw onto my neck, softly grasping my throat and applying little to no pressure, just holding it. I was unsure whether he genuinely wanted to treat me like glass or if he was just holding back his violent urges and secretly wanted to choke me. 

“I’m not having sex with you, by the way,” I stated, pushing him away by his chest. I tried to ignore how his lips glistened from the excessive amount of saliva built up from our exchange. His face was flushed and his eyes looked slightly sad, but tired, and definitely not sober. 

“Why not?” he asked, whining. I pushed past him, taking a look at myself in the mirror. My shirt had ridden up to the middle of my ribs, my hair was messy, makeup smudged, neck and shoulders decorated with a few small bruises that I could only blame on one person. Thanks a lot, dick, I thought, scoffing. 

“‘Cause you’re gross,” I stated, leaning against the edge of my bed while putting a hoodie on to cover my freshly assaulted shoulders. I pushed myself up so I was fully sitting as Trey came closer to me and got down on his knees. 

“What if I let you sit on my face?” He asked, giving me puppy eyes while his hands caressed my calves. His touch was gentle and gave me butterflies. 

“Tempting,” I hummed, tapping my bottom lip with my index finger. I ran my hand through his hair, as if he was about to suck my dick or something. I laughed to myself as I imagined this. Trey Parker, on his knees, sucking silicone cock. “What if you suffocate?”

“I’ll die in bliss,” He stated, tilting his head back as he reveled in the feeling of my fingers in his hair. He was really determined. I could tell that he probably wasn’t gonna give up either. Too bad, though. I wasn’t finished teasing him yet. Munch.

“You’re disgusting,” I said, raising my eyebrows matter-of-factly and flicking him in the forehead. I swung my legs to the side, standing up off the bed next to where he was kneeling. I started towards the door, waiting to hear him scramble to his feet and stop me in my tracks. He was too predictable. 

“I’ve been wanting this since we were in 10th grade,” He told me, grabbing my wrist before I could open the door. “I’ll be gentle,” he added, waiting for my response. “I promise.” 

“I believe you,” I said. “I trust you. You’re just not quite what I imagined for my first time.” I gave him a passive-aggressive smile of sympathy. I was full of shit, of course. Thinking about it, the only person I would ever want to take my virginity was Trey. I thought that maybe I’d been subconsciously saving it for him this entire time without even realizing. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, clearly offended. He laughed it off, but his face told a different story. His cheeks were wildly flushed and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed. Was I really that convincing?

I rolled my eyes, kissing him softly. “I was joking, moron,” I said, locking my bedroom door. 

It was then that he looked at me with probably the most awestruck, wide-eyed gaze I’d ever seen from him, his pupils having blown three sizes once I pulled away. I simply giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck as I kissed him again. “You have to tell me the password.”

“Password?” He asked, laughing. “Pussy password?”

“Yep. You’ll never guess it,” I stated, running my hands gently down his body. 

Trey took a moment to think, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph McCarthy,” He guessed. My face turned red. 

Fuck.

“You can’t beat me, Y/N. I’m always five steps ahead of you,” He laughed, hooking his hands under my knees to lift me up and carry me to my bed, which was a complete disaster as blankets, sheets, clothes and pillows were strewn in every direction. 

“How the fuck did you guess that?” I whispered rhetorically, so shocked that I didn’t even register that he was now on top of me, having laid me down right where I usually sleep. 

“You only said it like, a million times over the whole two weeks when we were reading The Crucible in English. D’you still think that’s the funniest thing ever?” He teased me, straddling my hips. I suddenly felt fatally nervous being under him. Maybe I didn’t want this. “I figured it would either be that or ‘San-Fransican Kegflip’-” 

“Stop,” I choked out. “Stop for a second.” 

Trey paused, confused for a fraction of a moment before shutting his mouth and moving to the side. I bent my knees, closing my legs and covering my face with my arms. I felt like I was going to cry again. For some reason, the idea of finally losing my virginity had me about ready to shit myself, I was so scared. I trusted Trey, of course, but this was just… so new. What if he sucked in bed and I was overestimating him? That would be funny, but it would probably make for the worst virginity story anyone had ever heard. You waiting ten years to fuck your best friend and it wasn’t even good? Just shoot me in the head, why don’t you. 

“Sorry,” I laughed, feeling my body start to tremble. 

“Don’t be, hey,” He said softly, scooting closer to me. “You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do this. Even though I totally guessed the pussy password right on the first try.”

I could hear the boastful smile in his voice, causing me to smile too. He couldn’t see it. “Shut up,” was all I could think to say.

I could sense that he’d shut his mouth and backed off. “...Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

“No,” I answered quickly. “Please don’t.”

My body shot upward, facing him. My hands held his arms, caressing the warm skin and toned muscle as he looked at me with patient eyes. My own were welling up with tears as my entire body vibrated. 

“I’m scared,” I laughed, pulling his arm as I laid back down. Trey climbed on top of me again, caressing my face and neck. I felt the lump in my throat swell as he kissed my forehead and cheeks. 

“Am I scary?” He asked me, his voice soft. He didn’t make any further advances, he just kissed me a few times and held my hands. 

“You wish you were,” I laughed, grinning as I found the courage to touch him again. My hands rested on either side of his neck, rubbing the soft, freckled skin of his jaw and shoulders. “I just wanna get this over with.”

“You really don’t have to do-”

“No, let’s do it,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’s been long enough. I think we’re way past the point of no return anyway.”

I sat up, pulling him into a kiss, until he gently pushed me away by my waist, looking me deep in the eyes. 

“Are you sure-”

“Please fuck me, Trey,” I whispered slowly. “Make me bad.”

The blonde just sat there, our faces inches apart, his eyes wide and absolutely dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Maybe ‘cause I smacked him twenty minutes ago for talking about wanting to take someone’s virginity. 

“You can still change your mind,” he sighed, obliging and laying me down while pulling my hips up so my ass rested on the top of his lap. I could see the smirk he was trying so hard to contain. “Let’s get these off first.”

I lifted the humongous hoodie up and over my head, looking up as Trey got to work at my skirt and underwear. He removed them pretty easily, lifting my legs up so that my ankles were resting on his shoulders. I had to admit, the sight was something straight out of one of those movies. Him, still fully clothed in a snug gray T-shirt that did wonders for his chest and arms, and me, pantsless with my legs propped up on his shoulders and my bare fucking vagina on full display. 

I thought I could see Trey’s eyes intentionally avoiding the area as his warm hands slid up the sides of my body from my freshly bared hips. He remained focused on my still clothed chest, my shirt riding up higher and higher as he massaged my torso. “Here,” He hummed, moving my legs so that they were wrapped around his hips. 

My mind was pretty much blank as I stared at our hips, my naked crotch only inches away from his own clothed one. I was interrupted however, by a soft pair of lips pushing against my jaw so my head would tilt back. 

“You look really pretty,” he mumbled sweetly, kissing my throat with basically no pressure. I hummed in bliss, running my fingers through his hair. I then laughed, realizing the irony of the situation. I’d basically just had a panic attack right before he came into my room, and now he was on top of me, telling me I looked pretty.

“Just ‘cause I trust you doesn’t mean you can lie,” I grinned, sliding my hands up his biceps and underneath his sleeves, lightly squeezing the muscle as it flexed at my touch. 

“You’re so-” Trey started, a teasingly annoyed tone in his voice. “Just be quiet.” 

I pulled him in for a kiss again, gently tugging on his hair. I heard him groan softly, causing my body to heat up. I’d gone further than I ever had with anyone at that point, especially once he took his shirt off. 

He wasn’t exactly fit but he was definitely muscular. Light brown hairs covered his upper chest and trailed all the way down into his pants. I could see the waistband of his plaid boxers sticking out from under his jeans, held snugly to his hips by an old black belt. At that point I don’t think I was able to form coherent words anymore. I was too nervous to encourage him to keep going, but I was too excited to tell him to slow down. 

“Are you okay with this?” he asked me, sitting up against his heels so his body towered over mine. His right hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, while his left held a gentle grasp on my thigh. I nodded, swallowing harshly. I could see him blushing, the sight giving me a little more confidence. Enough to tease him some more. 

“Are you nervous?” I asked him, propping myself up on my elbows before he pushed me back down and started kissing my neck. 

“About what?” he asked, huffing slightly. I held onto his broad chest, massaging his shoulders and tracing each muscle and bone. 

“Taking my virginity,” I answered. “This isn’t your first time doing someone during their first time, is it?” I acted as though taking someone’s virginity was just as infamous as losing it. 

Trey chuckled, pulling my shirt up. “If it weren’t you underneath me, I think I’d feel better. Sit up,” he said. I obeyed him, allowing him to pull my shirt off completely, exposing the little pink lounge bra I’d been wearing all day. He held my neck and kissed my forehead as I reached behind my back to undo the clasp and slide it off my shoulders, rendering me completely naked beneath him. 

Now the nerves were back. I swallowed harshly, staring down at his hips as he undid the buckle of his belt, moving one hand to rub slowly up and down my stomach as the other pulled the leather strap out from the confines of his jeans. His head was tilted down, all of his focus devoted to the task of getting his pants off. 

Suddenly, his eyes met mine, and he smiled shyly. Fucking Christ. 

I remembered the night we went to prom. I wasn’t his date and he wasn’t mine; he had his own date, but he and I showed up together, since we only lived three houses away from each other. I recalled the moment I opened my front door to see him at my doorstep, wearing a white suit with black pants and dark green accents. I told him he looked nice, and he smiled shyly. I guess we were both a lot more innocent back then. 

“You okay?” He asked, stroking my knees. I’d zoned out and not realized that he was just in his boxers now, waiting for my permission to proceed. I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. Trey noticed, smiling slightly. 

“Is it cool if I, um, finger you? For like, prep?” He asked me, adjusting his boxers slightly. 

“What are you gonna do if I say no?” I asked, smiling. 

“Fuck off, I dunno,” he laughed. 

I sat up and kissed him, pushing his chest so that he’d lay back, but he just took the kiss and grabbed my hand, confused. “What are you doing?” 

“I’ll be on top,” I offered. “That way you don’t have to keep stopping to ask if I’m okay.”

“That is not how it works,” he laughed, raising his eyebrows. “But go ahead.”

He laid back against my pillows, half sitting up with his head and shoulders against my headboard. Trey watched me intently as I crawled on top of him, unsure of what to do with my hands as I moved. I felt like I was put in a spotlight, shyness overcoming me as my eyes met his. He just stared at me with a soft, awestruck gaze, his hands lightly stroking my thighs. 

My hair fell in front of my face as I leaned down to kiss him, my shoulders tense as I propped myself up with pin-straight arms to keep my weight off him. I felt him smile in the kiss, chuckling as his hands moved up to my hips and caressed my ass ever so slightly. 

“You can sit on me, you know,” he said, looking up at me. Trey pulled my hips closer, lifting his own up slightly to shift his position and make himself more comfortable, holding in part of a grunt. “Just relax. Stop if you need to.”

“You’re not making me very bad right now,” I stated, kissing his throat. “Are you stalling?”

“I think you’re stalling, sweetheart,” He countered, tugging my hips into his again, harsher this time. My heart skipped a beat at the action and the fire in my stomach practically exploded. “I would have finished with you twice by now. Maybe three times.”

He was finally starting to get impatient. For some reason, deep down, I liked the idea of him rushing me. Just imagining it caused my adrenaline to kick in and my heartrate to pick up.

I took a deep breath, nerves building up again. Without looking, I held my breath, pulling the waistband of his boxers down just enough for his cock to slide out and present itself to me. I heard Trey gasp, seeming genuinely surprised. 

This was happening. 

“I-I don’t have condoms,” I said, swallowing harshly. 

“I do,” he huffed, his breath having picked up in pace. “In my bedroom.”

Fuck. I didn’t want him to have to go get them and I certainly wasn’t going to go fetch them myself. I weighed my options as quickly as my brain would allow; either risk getting caught and interrogated, or risk getting pregnant. Humiliation, or bearing my best friend’s child. Only one of those options could be truly reversed. 

“It’s fine,” I shook my head, fixing my hair. I stared at his stomach as he breathed rapidly. 

“You sure? I can go get them real quick-”

“I trust you,” I told him, tracing small circles in his hips. His body shivered, before he sat up, causing the muscles in his abdomen to flex. Trey leaned in close, his lips grazing my ear. 

“I’m dead fucking serious, Y/N,” he whispered. “Are you sure? 100% sure?”

I nodded quickly. I really was. I really wanted him. The past nine years had been taunting me all night. “I trust you.”

Trey looked in my eyes, searching for any twitches or other movements that might hint at me lying, but he found none. I gave him a look of longing, my eyelids low as I looked from his eyes, to his lips, to his body, and back up again. 

“Let me get on top,” he whispered. 

Without hesitation, I listened to him, holding his torso as he crawled on top of me once again, his hair tickling my face. His head was tilted down, staring intently at his piece which he took so much care to prepare, stroking it slowly. 

I knew what was about to happen. I knew how it was going to feel, and I dreaded it. I’m sure this wasn’t new at all, either. According to him and Matt, this was the best part.

“It’s gonna sting,” He said, swallowing harshly. He looked incredibly nervous. Possibly more than me. Why? “I’m gonna try to be gentle.”

I just nodded. Holy fucking fuck shit fuck holy fuck. It was finally happening. For real. Literally. It was actually literally happening. He was about to be inside of me. What the fuck. 

I put my hand over my eyes, holding my breath as I felt him shift, waiting for the pain to start. 

Trey lowered my hand, placing it on his arm. “I want you to see,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “Breathe.”

I felt like I could cry and I wasn’t even in pain yet. Maybe it was the fact that the man I trusted so much and felt so safe with was making me feel extra safe in such a dangerous, foreign situation. Then I started to feel it. 

A wince left my throat pretty much immediately after he started pushing in. It felt like I was being ripped in half by the legs. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, kissing my neck and all over my cheek. 

He paused, giving me a bit of a break to adjust. I held my palms over my face as tears welled up in my eyes. No wonder I waited till I was 25.

It wasn’t long before he started moving again, slower than fucking molasses, until he bottomed out. Trey propped himself up on his elbows, kissing my neck again. 

“I bet you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock you pretty virgin whore,” He said in a dumb voice. I laughed, partially crying through it. It still hurt to move, despite Trey’s efforts to soothe me through gentle kisses all up and down my neck while he traced circles into my hips. 

“I definitely would have smacked the shit out of you,” I said, my voice breaking. 

“Well, I was right, so,” He bragged, grinning like a cocky piece of shit. Douchebag. 

“Don’t test me, Parker,” I warned him. “Once I can move without splitting in half, you’re a dead man.” 

He cocked his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind later when you’re begging me to stop teasing you,” he mumbled, kissing me. 

I stopped arguing, just reveling in the feeling of his lips on mine. That was a much better feeling than the sharp pain in my hips, which actually, was starting to feel a little less intense. I opened my mouth for him to slip his tongue into once again, hoping he would start moving by himself without me having to ask him to. 

Trey groaned slightly, kissing me harder. My legs wrapped carefully around his waist, attempting to pull him closer without fucking up the more comfortable position I was already in. My prayers were answered and the idiot took the hint, slowly drawing his dick out, and even more slowly, pushing it back in. 

“Pull my hair,” he mumbled quickly, leaving my lips for my neck. Now his nose was right up against my ear and I could hear every single breath he drew in and pushed back out. They were strangled, like he kept holding in inhales and exhaling in short, harsh breaths. My fingers worked their way from the base of his neck, moving upward to gather as much hair between them as I could, and clenched my fist as tight as possible. Trey whimpered; it was high-pitched and almost girly. If I didn’t hear it again in the next few seconds I would die. 

Without telling him, he had already sort of picked up the pace, burying his mouth into my neck and shoulders. I felt his hand press flat against the lower part of my stomach, applying light but very noticeable pressure to the area as he continued to fuck me. 

“If you were any tighter I think my dick would lose circulation,” He huffed, looking at me. I could see his temples glistening from sweat. 

“If you were any bigger I think I would fucking die,” I countered, resting my head back to look at the ceiling. His lips had left damp spots on my neck that started to feel cold, giving me chills. 

“I think you might be the best I’ve had,” he whispered, mumbling into my neck. His voice carried so much passion. I felt like crying again. No surprise there. 

“Same,” I grinned. “You’re the only one I’ve had.”

“Can I go faster?” he asked, ignoring me. 

I nodded, holding his head close to me. I stared at the ceiling, my entire body rocking slightly as Trey’s hips collided with mine again and again. My eyes fell shut as he started moving faster, and inevitably deeper. 

He was a lot less vocal than I’d hoped. Likely because he didn’t want us to get caught and/or interrogated. Plus, I knew how loud Matt could be at times… in fact out of the two I only ever recalled hearing Matt. 

Without even realizing, my back arched upward as the most electrifying wave of pleasure shot through my entire body, causing me to gasp and moan at an unfortunate volume. Trey had sent a harsh, pointed thrust into me, hitting that infamous spot with great force and friction. 

“Mm-hmm,” He hummed, acting like he knew I would react that way. Embarrassment washed over me at the vulgar noise that had just erupted from me, but there wasn’t much I could do to protest except bite the back of my hand while Trey fucked me harder and harder, pushing similar sounds out of me. 

“Fuck, fuck… fuck… Trey- mmnh,” were just a few things among the obscenities that erupted from my throat as he just pushed me closer to the edge. 

“You’re doing so good,” He whispered, kissing a spot under my ear that gave me goosebumps. 

I pulled his hair again, hoping to earn another one of those ridiculously pathetic sounds that was burying so deeply within him. His hair was soft and slid so nicely between my fingers; the feeling and scent were almost enough to make me cum right then.

I tugged on a chunk of his hair, causing him to whimper again, then causing me to arch my back as I felt my orgasm rushing through my body, and then causing him to fuck me faster still. 

I think I saw my entire life flash before my eyes once I felt his middle and ring fingers dip between my legs and rub circles against my clit, pressing on it and pinching it ever slightly. The high hit me like a bus and I shoved my wrist into my mouth, crying out his name as my body twitched and the knot came undone within me. 

“So… pretty… fuck-” he groaned, his rhythm faltering to a stutter as he started to get close too. A sharp pain struck my lower half as he quickly pulled out and came all over my hips and thigh. That worked out nicely, except now my sheets are fucking sticky and I’m covered in this fuckwad’s children. 

I thought it was incredible how, even though this guy managed to make me scream his name in a way that you’d only hear in special types of movies, I still managed to think of him as a worm. No brain and no spine (occasionally). I still loved him, of course. No matter how much I hated him. He was still my Trey. 

“Aren’t you just the tidiest?” I said sarcastically, catching my breath. I ran my fingertip through some of his spill, rubbing it between my fingers. It was hot and sticky, but sort of… silky. It was weird and I liked it a lot. Especially since it was his. 

“Shut up, woman. Jesus,” he huffed, laughing. 

There was a knock at my bedroom door. “Y/N? Trey? You guys okay?” It was Matt, inebriated. 

I looked at Trey, fear in both of our eyes, until I spoke up, “You know what, fuck you! You’re a piece of shit pig! I don’t even know why I moved in with you in the first place!” 

Trey’s face only read as pure shock as I spoke, but it worked, and Matt walked away. “Wow, okay. I guess not,” He’d said. 

“You’re a good actor,” Trey told me, brushing my hair out of my face. 

“Hmm, I guess. But you don’t want me anymore, do you?” I said jokingly, pouting. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, grinning. 

“‘Cause I’m not a virgin anymore,” I said, giving him the biggest doe eyes I possibly could. 

“Oh, oh, right. Yeah, that does change things,” He said, biting his finger. “I think I’m about finished with you know. Goodbye!” 

He sat up to leave the room, until I whacked his arm and pulled him back down next to me. I knew he was joking. He knew he was stuck with me forever. 

“You can’t go bragging to everyone just yet,” I told him. “Slow down.”

Trey scoffed. “I’m not telling them jack. All they’ll do is ask questions that I won’t answer.”

“They have to find out eventually,” I said. 

“Says who?”

“Says God,” I shrugged in a nothing-I-can-do-about-it sort of manner. 

“God is dead,” Trey said, grimacing. 

I grinned, leaning forward to kiss him. “You’re never getting rid of me, Trey Parker.” 

“That’s fine with me,” he said, pulling me in for another kiss. 

#i can write a 7k+ word long trey fic in 1 day #but i can’t write a 2.5k word long matt fic in 5 days #what the fuck #trey parker #trey parker x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fem reader #fluff #smut #baseketball #cannibal the musical #south park #matt stone x reader #angst #mattrey

[rozcdust]

Addicted

Pairing: Ran Haitani x f!reader x Kakucho Hitto

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 800ish

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, substance abuse, Inui and the reader are a problem both, suicidal jokes, suggestive, talk of dicks (MDNI) mentions of stalking (paparazzi)

masterlist

“Are you sure about this?” Quirking an eyebrow, your fingers softly stroked Inui’s leg, staring him right in the eyes.

He threw a look at Draken, who sat on the side and watched, and upon his shrug, Inui finally nodded, motioning for you to go on.

“It will hurt.”

“I know.”

“Draken cried like a bitch.”

“Well I’m not Draken, am I?”

“Okay, on a count of three.”

Inui closed his eyes tight in anticipation.

“Why the hell are you two turning this into something weirdly sexual?” Draken scoffed from the side, seated on the floor next to the two of you, brushing his hair, annoyed and his arms crossed.

“One-“ You stopped your hand, assessing Inui’s state, and deciding it was well enough to proceed.

You pulled the wax strip off.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Inui screamed, continuing to curse you as he instinctively grabbed the patch of skin you just waxed, his eyes widening, “Fucking hurts- oh that is smooooooth.”

Sticking his leg out in front of Draken’s face, he wiggled his toes, staring at his boyfriend expectantly.

“Touch me.”

“Gross.” Frowning, you slapped the wax strip back on.

Draken rolled his eyes, but indulged him, running his finger over the slowly reddening skin.

“It is smooth Sei, good job, that’s how waxing works.”

“Asshole.”

“Your fault for deciding to wear a skirt.”

You ripped the strip off.

“FUCK ME- Do it again.”

“Freak.”

“Weird that Ken ever needed to be waxed.” Inui tilted his head in thought, carefully watching you rip open the next strip, “He’s weirdly hairless. Like, everywhere. Even his-“

“I do not, DO NOT, want to hear about Ken’s dick.” You slapped your free hand over his mouth before he could continue, glaring at the scarred man with the same sharpness you usually reserved for asshole investors, “That’s my brother you’re talking about, Inui. If I have to know anything about your sex life, I’ll kill myself.”

He licked your hand, and you recoiled, smacking him slightly before wiping it on Draken’s cheek.

“We’ve been to public baths together before, though. You’ve seen my dick.” Draken merely states, casually, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I have, and it was traumatising and stressful for all parties involved, thank you very much.”

“Sei has a pretty dick though.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up-“

“Like, it’s genuinely-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP-“

“Y/n, you can’t wear that.”

“Says who?”

“Jesus.”

“I’m wearing this. No, Inui- INUI PUT THAT FUCKING GARBAGE BAG DOWN-“

Despite his rising fame, his hard work and his handsome face getting him internationally recognised and adored, Hakkai stayed as level-headed and humble as ever, some of the shyness of his teenage years stuck around, however, causing him to be quite private regarding his life outside of work, but that never stopped anyone from assuming.

Or the media from straight up harassing him.

You, on the other hand-

Well.

The media and the paparazzi tried to harass you for a little while after your father’s death, when you took over the company, the concept of a young woman with a well-known gambling habit in a male-dominated field taking over a successful company borderline unimaginable to some, offensive to others.

They learned their lesson fast, and for years now, your face and name have been kept out of the news or tabloids.

Letting Inui and Draken walk out of the car, you parked it in the club’s parking lot, pocketing the keys as you made a B-line towards the car already swarmed with reporters, desperate to get just a shot of Japan’s favourite pretty boy.

You smirked as they turned to you, and recoiled, politely excusing themselves and leaving.

One, though, a young man with pretty eyes and immaculately done hair, a microphone and a camera already out, obviously new and unfamiliar with your blunt ways, approached you, all chipper smiles and bright eyes.

“Y/n L/n, hello! So pleased to meet you!” He bowed, grinning brightly, “How are you?”

You lazily smirked, deciding to play along.

“I’m good, planning on having some fun with my friends, so if you could just excuse me-“

“Before that, please, just one question. We’re live now, and just a small company, we’d be so happy to have you as our segment-“

You impatiently tapped your foot, glancing behind him at the car, and cursing Hakkai for keeping the windows darkened.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well, would you mind explaining your sudden breakup with the young and upcoming detective Tachibana?”

It took all in you to not scoff.

Leaning down, you mindlessly grabbed the microphone out of his hands, ignoring the small noise he let out at the sudden movement.

Staring directly into the camera, your grin turned mean.

“Remember kids, don’t fuck a pig, even if it’s a cute one. All cops are bastards, fuck the law, in fact, start evading your taxes-“

“Miss, thank you so much, that is quite enough-“

“Overthrow the government, hell, start harassing the mayor-“

“Miss-“

“The government is lying to you, the birds work for the bourgeoisie-“

“MISS!”

“THEY’RE DRONES-“

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @7rkx @graythecoffeebean @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @shiyuumisaki @xashiui @bontens-whore @chronic-claire-universe @nqctre @crybabylisa @adeptiixiao @denkis-sluttyboy @yukimaniac @toobsessedsstuff @yuushs @sh4nn @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @syddisheep @satsuri3su @soushswag @wisteria-aa @bontensbabygirl @qualitygiantshoepsychic @levii-s @astropheia @galactict3a @a-toxic-person @inurmom00 @eriislost @phoenixflames498 @luvjiro

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #kakucho x reader #kakucho x you #ran x reader #ran x you #bonten #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #rindou haitani #kokonoi hajime #manjiro sano #haruchiyo sanzu #draken #inui #draken x inui

[princessprettyprivilege]

Can you share your experience with pp and how it benefitted you?

My Experiences & Benefits of Pretty Privilege

Sure! I’ve experienced pretty privilege since I was 18-19 since that’s when I left the house more. This is what I remember.

I formatted this like a resume!

The first time I realized pretty privilege was a thing was when this guy wouldn’t stop staring at me from a car ahead at the drive thru and I thought my windshield was cracked but I couldn’t see it, I was having some type of vehicle trouble I couldn’t see, etc. but he paid for my frozen matcha latte packed with sugar and whipped cream 🤣

that day I had on all black, curled my hair, and wore my fenty eyeshadow & NYX eyeliner nearly touching my eyebrow tails.

He told the baristas he thought I was so good looking that he’d pay for whatever I had to look at me longer.

I was shocked since that was a new reaction I got, and this time I wasn’t age bait like my mom would say.

If you’re legal, don’t go out with your parent(s) since they’ll fumble bags in your place.

The Casino

🍫 Go on the floor although I said I wasn’t 21 3x but no food bags on the floor (still makes my eye twitch) 🙄 I think I was 17 at the time

🍫 The eye fuck I got from the restaurant at the casino the night before: the entire room stared, old guys came into stare, husbands with wandering eyes got slapped and pulled out of the restaurant before ordering, husbands & wives stared together, then my mom told me she wouldn’t let anyone cover my meal anyways which killed my mood

My Drive Thru Era (18-19)

✨ The fully loaded matcha latte

✨ Nitro cold brew from Starbucks

✨ Taco Bell

💞 My emissions testing was covered + the tester did magic and cleared my vehicle codes

20

🌸 Men tipping me at my shitty 1st job whenever I’d wear makeup since they enjoyed looking at me + I smiled for FREE 😳 that’ll keep you awake at night

I remember Range Rover guy the most since I saw it enter the lot before he did and I stared 🤣🤣 he told me to hold onto his change for pocket money which was around $25-30

✨ Got invited to golf (19-20) work conflicted

🌸 Don’t show me black cards anymore unless you’re authorizing me

🍫 man pulled out money for my lunch at a steakhouse, but ma wasn’t comfortable with that

🌸 Bill money flashed 😂

🌸 President of university flirts 🚨 lawsuit!!

Generally

🌸 Skipping line

💖 Being told I was too pretty to work and I needed an old man sponsoring me

🌸 Suddenly every married man is single

🌸 Change covered

🌸 Free drinks

🌸 Easily let into traffic

🌸 Men are gentler around me and did my work for me

🌸 Casually walking into the house and announcing my grocery or whatever was covered

🌸 Money for not doing anything

🌸 Less to no consequences

🌸 Liability for sexual harassment or leveling up from male higher ups, so I didn’t get hired

🌸 Women bosses flipped out on me for being a distraction

🌸 I’ve never been pulled over, but local police let me slip by

The benefits are the same, I’m experiencing life with some options, but I plan to be fully loaded with options than before.

This happened when I was at the bare minimum for leveling up: eyeshadow & eyeliner, okay ish hair, not paying attention to my posture, sedentary

I don’t expect anything magnificent in my own community because it’s not HCOL and I know I didn’t put much effort in in the past to realistically earn the benefits of a dolled up, highly attractive woman.

I could say it was Pretty Privilege Lite but my experiences may mean a lot to someone else.

I’m quickly approaching 21, and I’m pulling out all stops now! ✨

#princess khalyiah asks #pretty privilege #levelup #princesskhalyiah #pretty privilege tips

[shadowmaat]

Mullet Wig, the Llama King

New drama just dropped!

I think we've all noticed that our favorite hellsite has some... issues when it comes to moderating toxic groups: Nazis, transphobes, TERFs, extremists of every stripe, etc.

In fact, there seems to be a trend where the victims of those groups are more likely to suffer consequences than the perpetrators themselves. Even in my tiny little mud puddle among the tumbleweeds I've heard things.

So when Our Kitty of Hacking, who has the bonus of being a reliable source, shares a story of a trans woman being banned from the site, I go digging.

In THIS corner we have a trans woman buckling under the weight of harassment and stalking. She's made multiple appeals to the mod squad for help and been continually ignored.

In frustration, she makes a post wishing for cartoonish violence to happen to Our Supreme Overlord... and gets banned.

In THAT corner we have Our Supreme Overlord, who bought a site that has never been profitable, couldn't turn a profit, and decided to shove it in the corner.

Under a deluge of complaints about the banning, he feigns having the high ground and cites the reasons why he's totally right and everyone else is wrong.

Point the first: "We have queer folks on staff, so we can't be queerphobic! They've never complained!"

Having queer peeps on staff doesn't mean much. For most companies it's just a checkmark to show how cool and inclusive they are. It doesn't mean they're treated well, it doesn't mean their concerns are listened to or addressed, and it doesn't mean that they speak for the entire community. Also? Just because they don't say anything doesn't mean they don't have objections. "fear of losing your job" is a hella big reason to keep your mouth shut.

"There was unmarked sexually explicit material and that's against our TOS!"

There's a difference between "showing off results of surgery while fully clothed" and "sexually explicit material" you absolute corncob.

"There were threats of violence!"

A Looney Tunes-style threat, especially one couched as "I hope" rather than "I'm going to" is not something to be taken seriously.

Also? The victim you've chosen to vilify was also receiving threats of violence- likely much more realistic and specific- and yet those threats were apparently not found to be in violation. Interesting how that works.

Additional point: You misgendered her. You fucking MISGENDERED HER. There is absolutely no excuse for that and you can't fucking claim you "didn't know" her pronouns. If you aren't sure, you FIND OUT before you go spouting self-defensive bullshit.

You've turned a blind eye to the hate groups and bad actors on here for years. Now, suddenly, when it's all about YOU, you suddenly find a way to moderate/remove anyone who hurts your fee-fees. C'mon, dude. I'll do a whipround to get you some mountaineering gear so you can finally get over yourself.

Just go back to ignoring us, you soggy cabbage.

#drama llama farm

[suhmayzooka]

19–Rant about a change they made to a character of your choice.

:)

jason todd's everything

OKAY i mentioned this briefly here but i do think one of the worst things done to jason was actually done to willis and catherine todd: namely, making willis a basic abusive drunk deadbeat criminal, and making catherine...Just an Addict

i hate RHATO for many reasons (i only touched the tip of the surface here but tldr I Hate Scott Lobdell so fucking MUCH), only one of them being the absolute disgusting retcons to the todd family. thank god for RCO so i don't have to give a sexual harasser a cent providing these screenshots

from rhato 2011 #0, our introduction to catherine and willis was catherine in labor crying "get it out already" because she "really needed a cigarette" and willis already jumping out of the picture to flirt with the hospital staff

willis drives drunk and runs someone over, goes back to catherine, fights, gets arrested, leaving jason to take care of catherine who's addicted to drugs, etc. this is all a very, very basic story that has been told over and over, because (unfortunately) many people have experience growing up in this kind of environment. especially in poverty. perhaps if written by someone who understood poverty, crime, drugs, addiction, the cyclical nature of it all, this may have been told well. unfortunately scott lobdell is a piece of shit and DC can't handle sensitive subject matter, so DC has given us the backstory that, i reiterate, REAL PEOPLE EXPERIENCE (i know because i know real people who had this upbringing—poverty, drugs, abuse, violence) as an excuse to make jason 'street trash' and dehumanize low income families.

but lynx, you just said that you know real people whose lives are reflected by this, shouldn't this be valid representation for them? isn't it realistic?

sure.... maybe, if all the surrounding stuff about jason's story doesn't make this all so CLASSIST and gross in retrospect.

it's not enough that jason escaped the cycle of poverty.... he had to be saved by batman lest he become a Bad Criminal like his father, because that's the only possible outcome to this. there's no reason willis was abusive or drunk or a criminal beyond the fact that he's poor, that he's a 'street rat.'

(side note, can some fans like,,, cool off calling jason a 'street rat' all the time? it's dehumanizing, and like. you know. there are real life people in these situations, they're not 'street rats,' they're the results of a failing system that perpetuates poverty. your anger should not be with 'street rats' but with the governments and the system that leaves vulnerable people behind while lining the pockets of millionaires and billionaires who won't ever step foot into east harlem or brownsville. go serve soup at the bowery for one day and look into the eyes of people stuck into the failing systems, of families coming in with their kids who are trying to do what they can to survive, they're not 'street rats' they're evidence that leaders don't give a shit. your privilege is showing. i digress).

the thing is... making willis and catherine like this isn't bad on its face. before i read DITF, i assumed this characterization was always like that, since both canon and fanon never seemed to indicate any differently.

OH how wrong i was. as i mentioned before, one thing about DC comics that i find... weird... is how comics from before 2000 can be more progressive or sympathetic than comics from the past 20 years.

THIS is how catherine and willis todd were APPARENTLY introduced originally, from batman #426 (part one of DITF):

"her name was catherine todd, a good woman who probably loved her son deeply, only wanted the best for him. willis todd probably loved jason also. maybe that's why he drifted into crime, hoping to give his son a better life. the poor fool realized too late that those kinds of shortcuts never pan out. catherine todd's life was cut short by a disease that didn't care just how much love she had in her heart. jason's dad fell victim to the vicious gangster he was working for, two-face."

wow! so from this... it seems that willis todd wasn't a piece of shit criminal, but someone who turned to crime out of desperation. to give jason a "better life." shocking.... this is ..... more in line with how poverty actually makes people turn to crime. being poor doesn't make someone turn evil just to be evil.

POV you're willis todd. your wife is terminally ill (and, i want to remind international DC fans, gotham is based in new jersey. no free healthcare. no universal basic income. if you want to be precise about when this specific comic was written, RONALD REAGAN was president. think about the circumstances going on). you have a kid. you are unemployed, and there aren't many work opportunities around you.

do you relocate to metropolis, since that city seems better than gotham? with what money?? most of what you do have is pooled with your wife's money to fund her medical bills, but remember this is america and the costs are piling up. additionally, you have to pay for your kid's necessities like food and clothes. you're not going to find an office job making more than minimum wage.

two-face comes along and, being a criminal, can pay you better than working at a random warehouse can. you just go along and follow his orders, and sure it's dangerous and you know you can be arrested but your priorities in life are catherine (until she dies) and then after that, your kid. to willis, and indeed many real parents who find themselves in this situation, crime is probably the most immediate solution; whether willis dies or gets arrested isn't as important as making sure he can put food on the table for just one more night.

let's just go back to catherine—i've seen some people speculate that "the disease" was actually just a euphemism for drugs and the comic was trying to be vague about that. here's how I would handle it if I worked at DC: catherine was sick from some terminal illness, but couldn't afford to pay the ungodly medical bills, so she turns to illegal drugs. you think living in high poverty just makes people turn to nonmedical opioid (the 'opioid crisis') because they're evil ne'er-do-well drug addicts? no!

NOW let's get to jason. he's already an orphan when bruce meets him, stealing the batmobile's tires not out of an inherent evilness within him but because he needs money to survive. he says it himself, he doesn't want to be a criminal! did willis want to be a criminal? did catherine want to die? no! from batman #409:

"i don't wanna learn to be no crook. i just boost what it takes to survive..."

everything about this could make for a compelling story and why i hated HATED HATED cheer so much. jason KNOWS the relationship between poverty and crime because he's LIVED IT, more than bruce could ever understand.

jason is adamantly AGAINST the systems in power BECAUSE HE'S SEEN oppression and injustice. he's lived it.

making willis abusive severely diminishes any sort of sympathetic connection jason could have to petty criminals...which makes no sense because he was one. jason should not be killing random thieves or henchmen, his issues should always be with the people in power. including in crime. note that he DOESN'T go on an anti-drug, anti-crime crusade in UTRH (which, as a whole comic, does contain some war on crime propaganda, but overall miles better than the bad parents retcon). he DOESN'T think that all criminals deserve death; his issue with batman ISN'T that gotham is too full of criminals that should be killed, but if you read the retcons and the abusive willis todd it's easy to interpret that (URBAN LEGENDS CHEER MY BEHATED).

i think lost days should be included in every printing of UTRH because of how much emphasis it places on jason's compassion for the downtrodden; he's not just murdering people because hee hee the lazarus pit made him evillll but because they're oppressing others; he kills people in positions of power who are abusing the systems in place. (NIGHTWING ANNUAL 2021 MY BEHATED)

so much of that is just... it just doesn't come off the same if willis was abusive at the start.

now. even after my rant, i want to say there's an upcoming fan film about jason's upbringing as an "abused street kid", HOWEVER the creator has discussed many times that this is based on his own personal experience so i have a lot of hope that it'll be less misery porn than what DC wrote.

salty comics ask game!

#yes i watch many red hood fan films i have a whole playlist. some are pretty fun! #if anyone wants fan film recs i can provide a list. i think i've watched enough to do so #dc #lynxreadscomics #meta #asked #jason todd #benbamboozled #moots

[slutforstabbings-archive]

Clean Again

Chapter 3: WORST NIGHT OF THE YEAR read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras!

The 1 year anniversary of Corey's little murder spree is coming...

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter- angst, girls comparing themselves to each other ): sexual harassment, suicidal ideation, arson, alcohol consumption, violent assault (non-sexual), extremely mild spoilers for Carrie, The Shining, and Christine, victim blaming

5,546 words

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Time flies. You realize with shock one day that it’s approaching a year since you moved home. You’re standing in your living room, sliding a record from its sleeve to place on the turntable. You just got a tiny easel from the dollar store to display the art for the album you’re currently playing, and you’re excited to put it to use. You pause with the vinyl halfway out. Tears burn your eyes and blur your vision. I like my life, you think. You shake your head and laugh to yourself. You have a job you love, you have friends who can be bothered to text you first, you kinda sorta run a little business. You’ve grown so much, been infused with new confidence and purpose. Coming back was a good idea. Maybe the best one you’ve ever had. You put the record on the turntable and push start. The music sounds so fucking good.

But like a vine that climbs a trellis, all your growth happens around something hard and unyielding. You don't think about Orin anymore, but you still feel the way he made you feel. You want to date, you want to hook up. Or at least, you think you do, you act like you do. There's no shortage of matches who want to take you out. You acquiesce to their vapid desires as long as you can stand it. But it always ends with a moment when you're sitting on their bed, or sitting in their car, or sitting at the bar with them thinking what the fuck am I doing here? Your inbox is a fridge full of food with nothing to eat. 

You’ve always known you were bisexual, but you’ve never gone out with a woman or a nonbinary person, so you take the chance to do so. Maybe suppressing your sapphic desire is the problem. You even hang out with Taryn once, thinking your acquaintanceship might give them a leg up. No such luck. You have the same problem regardless of gender. Everything is just a simulation, you’re watching from above, not really there. You come across as frigid and they don’t put in the effort to thaw you. Most of the dudes, and some of the girls too, just want a place to put their dick. They’re usually not interesting enough for you to provide it. On rare occasions you do, you never bring them to your apartment, where they might besmirch your sacred space. 

There is one guy you think could break the cycle. He’s become a bit of a local celebrity as a member of so many bands you can’t believe he has time to do anything else. You've been seeing him at shows for a while, from a distance, but when he stands next to you at the bar, oblivious to your presence as he tries to hail the bartender, it's the first time you fully notice him. He's the opposite of a Monet— nothing to look at from a distance, but gorgeous up close. You watch him for a week or two, gathering intel, making sure he passes the vibe check. He's such a frontman, even when he's in the back on bass, even when he's not on stage at all. Everyone you think is cool thinks he’s cool. How the fuck did it take you so long to see him?  

“What’s the deal with Hurley?” You ask Veronica after a show. Your love life feels like a joke when you talk to her about it. She's so hot and so confident and her suitors are so much more eligible than yours. You've been too embarrassed to ask her what she knows directly, but tonight you felt like he’d made an unusual amount of eye contact with you while he was on stage. You feel giddy for the first time in… Well, you can’t remember how long. 

“What do you mean?” She replies.

“Is he like… available?” You wiggle your eyebrows at her.

“Huh. I dunno. I don't know much about him at all but it seems like he’s been single forever. None of my friends have gone on a date with him,” she says. “Think I heard he’s divorced.” 

The news that he has baggage only serves to make you more interested. “I felt like he was looking at me a lot tonight.”

“Hey, who knows? Maybe you can be the one to get some water back in that old, dry hose.” Veronica says.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” you tell her, laughing.

Next show you go up to him before you leave. You hit him with the classic. “Great set tonight.” You try to say it in a sultry way, but you can’t take yourself seriously. It doesn’t matter that you have no game, because he does. He knows all the right things to say. You stay up late texting him every night leading up to your first date. You think you could really like him.

Until you don't. You’re not sure why, but after hanging out a couple times you feel your infatuation dissipate completely. You can’t pinpoint any specific thing he’s said or done, something just… changes. You go on a few more dates with him, the most dates you’ve gone on with anyone since you first met Orin. You try so hard to see what you saw at first, to get the giggles around him again. No luck. Sometimes you find out you’re just not compatible with people, and that’s fine, you tell yourself. God, it sucks though. 

You should break it off in some kind of official way. It’s not fair to him not to, you know it isn't. But he wants you, in a more serious, more real way than anyone else you've been seeing. He's interested in you. You're not merely a warm body to him. How can you bring yourself to close that door? You know it's wrong, but you distance yourself from him without explaining why, avoiding shows his bands play — a difficult feat since he’s in so many. 

“I can’t hang out Friday night, I have a huge pile of jackets to patch,” you tell him. “I can’t get drinks after work, I’m on my period and I just wanna go to bed.”

Never “I’m just not as interested in you as I thought I would be. I’m sorry.” You say it in your head all the time, every time you talk to him, every time he texts. Sometimes you type it out, edit the message over and over, highlight it all and delete it. As long as you don't say it's over, there's still a chance that the spark could come back. Then he goes on tour with one of his bands and you're relieved things are gonna come to natural end, all on their own. He’ll forget about you while he’s gone, he’ll have so much fun that he’ll realize having something steady at home would just hinder him in this phase of his career. You think you’re off the hook when he doesn’t text you the whole time he’s gone. But the day he gets home, he calls.

You agree to meet up with him. At a coffee shop, not a bar, in the afternoon, not at night. He’s already sitting down with his drink when you get there. You don’t order anything, you just join him at his table in the back corner. 

“I missed you,” he says. 

You don’t meet his eyes. “It’s not working out,” you tell the table.

“What?”

“I think you’re cool. I like your bands. I want to like you as more than a friend, and I’ve tried to. But I just don’t think we fit like that.” You finally get the courage to look at him.

“What did I do?” He asks quietly.

“Nothing! You didn’t do anything, we’re just not quite right for each other.” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just nods. You don’t know what that means, but you hope he understands.

“I’m sorry,” you say, rising from your seat. You leave without looking back.

After that, you take a break from dating. You delete all the apps. The whole experience is so daunting. You’d much rather focus on the things about your life that you love, but Hurley makes it difficult. It’s like he only selectively remembers you breaking things off. Sometimes he ignores you, or pretends to. Other times he’s in your face, trying to put his arm around you, reaching for your hand before you snatch it away. Veronica makes a new friend, a girl who knows Hurley's ex-wife. Apparently he stayed a problem for her until he met you. Shit. You rack your brain, hoping to come up with a plan to finally get him to fuck off, but you don't want him to escalate and you don't want to make any enemies. He’s so entwined with the scene. A scene you can’t separate yourself from because of your job. A job you really love. You’re thankful he’s on the road so much, always having to leave just before you reach your breaking point with him.

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Every day of Corey’s life is exactly the same. He knows what day of the week it is, so he knows his work schedule, but the months and the seasons escape his notice, especially in this climate where it gets hot so early and stays hot so late. The leaves on the trees take forever to turn orange and blanket the sidewalks. If he’d been paying more attention, he would have been filled with dread and hatred, steadily increasing over the end of the summer as Halloween approached. But he doesn’t notice until the week before, when the skeletons and bats made of paper appear on the walls of the front office. The owner’s daughter uses a magic marker to draw faces on tiny pumpkins and places them on the counter. Their silly cheerfulness mocks him.

“My wife’s insisting on a Halloween party, everyone’s invited,” he overhears the next day as he walks past the break room.

"What's the name of the movie with that psycho with the mask? Based on a true story? There's like, eight of 'em?" Someone in the customer lounge asks. "Stab?" Someone else supplies.

“Yo Carpenter, what’re you gonna be for Halloween?” A muffled voice comes to Corey as he hangs his upper body into a car’s engine compartment. “Comin’ up next week.”

He scowls. Fucking Halloween. The worst day of his life, twice. When his coworker wanders off he extracts himself from the car and wipes his hands on a shop rag so covered in grease it just makes his fingers blacker. His nostrils flare at the smell of burnt coffee as he stomps to Will’s office.

“Give me Halloween off, and I’ll work Thanksgiving. And Christmas,” he says.

“What's so special about Halloween, Carpenter? You know we ain’t open on Thanksgiving or Christmas,” his boss says.

“Day before, day after, whatever. The days the guys with families don’t want.”

“You don’t got no family?” Will asks. He knows Corey doesn’t. He’s never seen a scrap of evidence that his most surly employee has even one friend, let alone a spouse, a child, or a good relationship with his parents. He feels bad for the kid, but he also can’t help but find it a little funny to get a rise out of him. Corey doesn’t answer the question. He clenches his jaw and his fists the way he always does when a conversation goes on too long for his liking.

“Alright, it’s a deal,” Will says once he’s made Corey squirm enough.

On Halloween he wakes up agitated, the darkness that’s always inside him swirling, rising higher like the tide coming in. All morning he’s plagued by visions of what must have happened last year. The last thing he remembers clearly is Allyson above him, crying. Everything after is hazy, and out of order, like listening to someone else recount a dream, all the way up until the night he heard the nurses talking about him in the hallway. But he’s sure Michael was there, at Laurie’s house, certain he looked up and saw Michael’s ugly face looming over him. Stupid Laurie, emptying her gun into the wall, wasting her best bet. She called 911 before Michael got there, but all Corey can assume that did is led more lambs to the slaughter.

Fucking Laurie. Why couldn’t she just let him get his ass kicked in peace? Everything that happened to him last year, everything bad in Haddonfield, it was all her goddamn fault. Now he’s alive, bearing the weight of everything he’s done, hiding like a coward, fighting the part of him that can never be buried deep enough again after it was dug up in the sewers. If she'd let Allyson go everything would have been okay. Allyson would be here with him, alive. Instead, they're both surely dead. Did you really think I'd kill myself? she asked him. Well it turns out she did. Laurie orchestrated a murder-suicide, Michael was just the weapon.

Corey opens a new pack of cigarettes and flips the one in the top left corner upside down. A lucky cig for the most unlucky asshole in the world. He strikes a match and lights up, letting the flame creep down until he reflexively shakes it out so it doesn’t burn him. Then another match, then another. Daring himself to let the flame get closer to his fingers, or to drop the match to the mattress where he sits, cross legged. He imagines the flames engulfing the apartment in mere minutes, the gas and the electronics in the garage downstairs exploding, fire ravaging the whole street. He pictures his skin searing and cracking in the heat, before being ripped to shreds by the shrapnel generated from the vintage toasters and antique clocks he tinkers with. 

When that fantasy doesn’t satisfy him anymore, he dresses and leaves his crummy apartment. He doesn’t take the stairs down. Instead he straddles the rickety railing around his tiny porch, then swings his other leg over, so his toes are just barely resting on the sliver of wood that extends beyond it. He leans back, holding onto the posts, getting splinters from the rotten wood as he hangs over the ground. Falling seems to be a common theme in his life. Always slamming into the ground, but never with enough force to break him the way he wanted it to, the way it broke Jeremy.

Before he can let go, he hears a loud crack. One of the posts fractures, then with another sound like a small explosive, it snaps entirely. He slips, thudding to the ground with the shattered piece of wood still in one hand. 

It knocks the air out of his lungs and he lays there winded for a moment. Pain shoots through his bad shoulder and he lets it take over all his senses, experiencing the fleeting agony as fully as he can. When it subsides he stands. Corey chucks the broken post back up onto his porch before mounting his motorcycle and speeding away.

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You stand in Veronica’s front yard with your arms outstretched, head tilted back slightly, eyes closed. Veronica climbs the three steps of a short ladder, apron tied over her dress, jug of fake blood in her hands. You hold your breath and Harker films on his phone as she slowly dumps the blood over your head, completing your Carrie costume. 

You stay outside, dripping excess blood onto the grass while Veronica puts away her apron and the ladder.

“Don’t forget your baseball bat!” You shout after her. Her Wendy Torrence is good enough for people to get her costume without it, and she honestly just looks kind of like her. But she was so excited about the bat when she found it at the thrift store, short enough to carry around all night, solid wood and unadorned like the one from the movie. You want to make sure she has it.

Everyone from work is going on a bar crawl as Stephen King characters. You as Carrie, Veronica as Wendy, the new girl and her boyfriend as the Grady Twins. An Annie from Misery, a Victor from Pet Cemetery, the possessed cop from Desperation, a Cujo and a Christine. When everyone picked characters, Christine was a choice no one else had the guts to go for, so you can’t wait to see what Drew does with it. Rose just picked Cujo because she’s a furry.

Harker’s too young to partake, so he’s designated driver for you two in his ridiculous truck. You’ve been banished to the bed to keep corn syrup off his precious custom interior, so Veronica scrambles over the tailgate and into the bed with you. As you roll through town everyone hoots and hollers at the ostentatious truck with two pretty girls in the back. A group of trick or treaters signal for Harker to honk and he lays on the horn to their extreme delight. 

Your coworkers slowly trickle into the first bar on the itinerary. Drew’s Christine costume turns out to be a car he made out of cardboard, hanging from his shoulders by suspenders. It’s pretty cool, and genuinely impressive that he was able to make it himself. But he looks like he’s in Christine rather than that he is Christine and everyone gives him a good natured ribbing. 

“Dude, you were supposed to be the car, not the driver!”

“The car literally doesn’t even need a driver. You’re the driver of a self-driving car.”

“You could’ve at least dressed like Arnie, you know, the guy who does drive the car.”

“No! I’m wearing all black, so it’s like I’m not even here,” he defends. “Y’all wouldn’t have even tried this costume.” Everyone has to concede to that.

The group gathers around to take the bar’s special Halloween shot, a bubbling lime green thing in a wide plastic cup. It’s surprisingly tasty for a split second before it ignites your throat and sinuses. Someone puts some goofy 60’s novelty song on the jukebox. It’s silly but it kind of slaps, and you find yourself dancing with your boss in his Annie Wilkes drag.

When everyone agrees to move onto the next stop, you take the lead, walking at the front of the group. As you step off the curb to cross the street towards bar number two, a motorcycle speeds by so fast your blood matted hair blows back. If you’d been just a little farther into the street you would have been a goner. The whole group yells after the biker, calling him an asshole and flipping him off. He doesn't seem to notice at all.

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Corey spends most of the day on his motorcycle, riding around, leaving the confines of the small city and flying down winding country roads. Cows and horses ignore him as he jets past pasture and paddock. His back hurts from the fall he took and from hunching low over the handlebars to make himself more aerodynamic. His knuckles are stiff from gripping the handlebars. He refuses to let that stop him. He has to keep moving. If he stays still the violence will catch up. As long as he’s blasting around curves, pushing the bike and his reaction times to the limit, he can make it through.

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, Corey’s fuel gauge drops below a quarter, then below an eighth. He knows he can’t make it much further. The timing is terrible, he’s going to ride back into town just as the trick or treaters come out, when the whole world will be on the streets. God damnit, god fucking damnit. He should’ve planned this better, this is the worst way it could have happened. His anger at himself just fuels the swirling blackness in his heart. 

As he comes back into town he tries to ride where he knows no one will be, but he can’t avoid a few crowded streets. He zips down them, trying not to see the merriment happening around him. He winds up down a road he’s familiar with. It takes him a second and then he realizes, this is where he’d squatted. Just half a year ago, the whole neighborhood was condemned houses. But progress marches on and now several of the houses are being renovated. Giant dumpsters are parked in front lawns, jutting out into the street. This or that house is surrounded by a temporary fence, the name of a developer or realtor on the sign hanging from the chainlink. 

No one is around. All the contractors have gone home for the night and none of the houses are finished enough for anyone to live on this block yet. He checks for cameras as he rolls slowly down the road. He can only see one house that seems to be under surveillance. Luckily the cameras are old, he can tell by the shape of them that the footage is probably being stored somewhere in the house instead of on the cloud. Excellent. 

He pulls his bike back behind the house in case someone comes by. He picks up a stray 2x4 on the ground and, raising it over his head, slams it into the nearest camera. Corey moves around the property, crushing plastic and cracking lenses until every camera is destroyed and the 2x4 is reduced to a battered toothpick. On one side the house is just framing, stripped down to the studs due to water damage. He slips through the gaps between posts.

He stalks from room to room, looking for the monitor and recorder the cameras were hooked to. He finds it in the closet of the master bedroom. The system must be at least as old as he is, with a VCR and a tube-type TV. If he could bring them with him he could sell them, blending in seamlessly with all the other old school electronics that pass through his hands. But he couldn’t ride with a TV like that in his lap, so he picks it up, yanking the power cord out of the wall, and hurls it at the floor. He ejects the tape and unspools huge ribbons from it before pitching it at the wall as hard as he can. It leaves a dent on impact and little pieces of plastic fly through the air. 

The bathroom floor is stacked with boxes of greenish gray ceramic tiles. He tears a box open and flings them one by one to the floor where they practically explode on impact, sand and shards spraying everywhere. Corey breaks two whole boxes of tiles before catching sight of himself in the mirror. His face is mostly obscured, only illuminated by the thin light of the street lamps filtering in. For a moment in the low light it doesn’t look like his face at all, but a skull, hollow sockets where his eyes should be. As he stares the image becomes Michael’s mask before finally transforming back into his face. He realizes the mirror isn’t mounted yet and grabs it. Seven years of bad luck as he swings it against the wall. He’s already had 25 years of bad luck, why the fuck should he care?

He terrorizes every room, kicking the walls and destroying any supplies left around. He finds a box of nails and tacks and pours them all onto the floor. It takes Herculean effort to resist the impulse to bring his foot down on them, knowing the longest ones would more than penetrate the worn-out sole of his shoe. He doesn’t know how much time passes before, covered in cuts and scrapes from the carnage, sweating and completely exhausted, he gives the house a break. But the reprieve is only temporary. He stands in the center of the living room with a pile of cardboard, paper, and drywall. He lights a cigarette. Then Corey holds the match to a piece of paper at the bottom of the pile until it catches. 

He watches the pile ignite, then goes outside. Retrieving the splintered remains of the 2x4 he destroyed the cameras with and using it like a broom, he covers his footprints and tire marks in the dusty yard. As he rides off in search of a gas station his only regret is that he can’t stay to watch the whole thing be consumed by flames.

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You’re on the dance floor with your coworkers at bar number 4, a club called The Club. You’ve been pacing yourself so you can straddle the line between buzzed and drunk, the intoxication sweet spot. You wave Veronica's baseball bat around in front of you as you dance, holding it for her while she and Rose are in the bathroom. You feel a hand on the small of your back and stiffen, scared. A mouth appears near your ear and shouts your name over the thumping music. The voice is thick and slurring and warped by the shout, but you recognize it instantly. Hurley. You can’t ever just have a nice night out. 

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him over the music. He slides his hand from your back to your stomach and pulls you backwards against him. You feel the anger you’ve stuffed down every time he’s called you to ask you for dinner even tho he knows you’ll say no, every time he’s casually draped his arm around your shoulders while you nearly fell out of your seat trying to get further away from him, every time you see one of his bands on a show flier and decide not to go out that night. 

But that’s not all of your anger, no, not nearly. Bubbling to the surface is everything you suppressed about Orin, the way you would only let yourself feel once or twice, when you imagined wrecking the house you’d shared, or showing up wherever he was to make a scene. I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner. And then there’s the fury you feel towards yourself. For not leaving Orin when you first got the sense that things were failing, when he was first mean to you for no reason. For not rejecting Hurley swiftly and soundly when you knew it wouldn’t work out. For letting these things happen to yourself. For being such a goddamn doormat. You see red, vibrating, totally unable to think rationally. 

If Veronica or Rose were out here, they’d intervene. He wouldn’t have even been able to walk up to you, Veronica’s gotten so good at putting herself between you two. But the line for the bathroom is long, no telling how long they'll be gone. None of the rest of your coworkers know any details about you and Hurley. You’ve tried to keep things from them for the most part. You know they would support you but you try not to involve yourself in scene politics, a discussion that’s unavoidable with someone as prominent as he is. They know you’ve gone on dates with him, maybe, but they don’t know that he’s been bothering you for months since.

With the hand not holding Veronica’s bat you grab his fingers from your stomach and rotate your wrist. You don’t think about it. It’s instinctive, automatic. One hard twist downwards. You feel something in his hand pop, a plasticky feeling click, like the knee in a Barbie doll leg. Still holding his busted fingers you spin around. The drugs and alcohol in his system protect him from the pain of the damage you did to his hand, and he laughs. 

“How long's it been since we danced?” He slurs. 

You feel small inside yourself, watching a movie instead of seeing through your own eyes as you raise Veronica’s bat. The other people on the dance floor are absorbed in the music or their own conversations. No one notices as you hold the bat aloft, preparing. Then you bring it down on him, hard. It makes a horrible cracking, crunching sound as it collides with his nose. Real blood spurts from his face, landing on your dress to mingle with the fake blood, and he drops to his knees. His fingers pull from your hand as he falls, bending unnaturally. 

You stand there, stunned and shaking, as people around you start to realize what happened. Veronica is suddenly by your side, guiding you toward the door. You emerge into the clammy air of the club’s patio and the change in atmosphere brings you to your senses. You take giant, panicked breaths and tears stream down your face, rewetting the fake blood caked on your cheeks. Veronica calls Harker, barking for him to come get you two, now. She shepherds you to the parking lot, shushing comfortingly, as people pour onto the patio to try to talk to you. Harker’s giant truck screeches to a halt beside the club. He wasn’t far away and Veronica’s tone made him worry. You hoist yourself into the truck bed and you feel the lurch of the truck accelerating just as you see the bouncer come outside to look for you. 

You take the next couple days off work. News reports come out of mischief that happened Halloween night. Other fights in other bars. Vandalism, theft. Three empty houses in a neighborhood undergoing revitalization burned to the ground and the cops have no suspects. You wait with baited breath to hear bad news that hits closer to home. That Hurley or The Club are pressing charges, that you’ve been banned from The Club for life. That you’ve been fired for turning violent in front of your boss. That your reputation in the scene is ruined for what you did to the city’s biggest star. But there is no bomb that drops. 

There’s tension, certainly, but your life does not crater. When Veronica whisked you away, Rose took initiative as the only other person at Plymouth Records who knew what you’d been going through to do damage control. She did such a good job you feel like she missed her calling as a celebrity publicist or a defense attorney. If anyone at work isn’t on your side, they keep it to themselves.

That doesn't mean you don't get sucked into the scene politics conversations you’d tried so hard to avoid. Most people aren’t upset about what you did to Hurley, they’re upset that you didn’t do or say anything about him sooner, allowing him to stay in the scene, even knowing he would behave like that. Knowing that if another girl in your community dated him, he would probably be a creep to her too. 

You don’t fault the people that feel that way. It’s something that crossed your mind every time someone asked how things were going with him and you clenched your teeth and gave a noncommittal answer. But you’d been waiting, hoping soon all his touring would finally lead him into a record deal, or make him move to NYC or LA to pursue one. Where he would be too far away for you to do anything about, and too busy to do it to someone else. 

There are some people though — his closest friends, people who’d envied you when you started dating him — who are furious with you for what you did. Fractured three fingers on his right hand and fucked up the connective tissue, broke his nose. You jeopardized his future, you hear them saying. You potentially ruined up the most important thing in his life. Who knows how long it’ll be before he can play instruments again. His broken nose has altered the quality of his voice, and the doctors aren’t sure if it’ll go back to normal. He doesn’t have insurance, and you knew that. 

You try to feel bad, but after you get over the initial shock, you just… don’t. Not about hurting him. Not about his future. If he didn’t want broken fingers he shouldn’t have grabbed someone who’s told him no 100 times. You watch revenge movies and feel like the protagonist, soaking in the catharsis. Something in you feels like it woke up from a long sleep. To keep yourself from driving to Atlanta and fucking Orin up like you’d tried so hard not to think about doing, you put on another film. New ones, old ones, good ones, bad ones. It doesn’t matter as long as someone other than you can quench your thirst for blood. 

Carrie in particular is significant to you. You feel a little silly but it’s almost spiritual for you that you were dressed as her when it happened. You watch all three versions repeatedly. You go to the library and get the book, then buy it when you’ve renewed it too many times. You worry about people’s reaction for only a second when you email a tattoo artist to get a portrait of Carrie done. You need to calm down, to put the pin back in the grenade. But you never want to forget any of it either. You never want to forget to quit being such a goddamn doormat.

end note: Just so there's no confusion about canon compliance lol, Allyson and Laurie are not actually dead in this universe. Someone just assumes they are because that's the first assumption his contused and drug addled little brain came up with and he has no motivation to interrogate that assumption.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #fan fiction #fan fic #mine

[box-dwelling]

I've been a fan of Marvellous Mrs Maisel since season 1 but like, the Susie gay stuff is feeling like a real fucking tease. Even with the most recent episode where it finally seems confirmed I feel baited. I'm guessing this is going somewhere with it being the cliff hanger but I just, I don't feel it. And honestly all the cast interviews feel so weird too and always have. Like "oh her sexuality isn't important and we don't have to show it" ok so why are you fucking teasing us with it so much. Why are you getting so close to showing but then not? Like I'd honestly respect it more if Susie was just butch and they never touched it instead of edging us like this. Like haha she went to a gay bar but she still looked super uncomfortable. Ooo she has an ex girlfriend but they never actually say they were dating and they could just be like ex clients. I just feel fucking teased. Commit you god damn cowards. If Susie's sexuality doesn't matter when every single second of midge's personal life is the be all and end all of the show, then why are you just cowardly hinting? Have some god damn balls.

It really doesn't help that I just am losing my patience with the plot. A lot of people were saying how last season it started just feeling like rich white woman temper tanturm hour but this last episode really solidified it. Midge's unprofessionalism is feeling less enderingnand edgy and more like she's just sulking because has to actually work to get to the top. Oooooo I'm a professional writer on one of the most famous comedy shows in the country, but I'm not allowed to guest star because of very reasonable professionalism rules. I'm sure my position as a writer on one of most watched shows in the country definitely won't open other doors to get on other shows. So I'm literally going to completely ruin a completely unrelated gig. Remember when her unprofessionalism was that her jokes were too edgy for the time? That her quick wit and desire to tell the world the way she sees it was what was getting her in trouble. The was what she bonded with Lenny over which was by far one of the most interesting relationships in the show. But tbh they ruined that by having them sleep together. Lenny worked well as this almost mythical concept of what she could become, both good and bad. The relationship was complex and interesting and worked way way way more as friends/peers. But no midge now suddenly has to be romantic with every guy in the show, including her boss now? Which they just don't comment on the blatant workplace harassment there? It's just tee hee Midge is pretty so her boss wants to sleep with her.

Also like can I just say the stuff with Abe was so fucking gross this episode. For a guy who's been pretty heavily autistic coded throughout the show the way they framed him trying to make up with Rose after their fight, which yes he was an asshole in and needed to apologize for, it felt like they made what seemed to me like an honest loving gesture of apology communicated non verbally, which yes he's been heavily autistic coded this whole fucking show so that's likely the best way he has to communicate, as child like and pathetic was just disgusting. Like I can see myself in his head so much. He messed up and he knows he did but he doesn't know how to apologize for it so he gets up in the middle of the night and picks her roses to scatter on her bed and then comes to be non sexually intimate with her, deliberately trying not to get too close into her personal space so she doesn't feel overpowered or attacked. A pose that could literally be interpreted as him begging her forgiveness. And that describing it's sounds so sweet but in the show he's blocked like he's being a pathetic child. It's so so gross.

And that's not even talking about the conversation that triggered it which spends half the time treating every woman in the scene like they're shallow and unable to understand media, before seemingly taking a minute to mock anyone who wants to read more into stories, highlighting queer analysis especially, as people who refuse to just let stories be and being too forceful for asking people to actually think about what they're watching. Real the curtains are blue shit.

I honestly love Abe so much he reminds me of my dad in a lot of ways so I am pretty biased but even still I just feel so gross after bits of this episode. Especially when they do stuff like "haha men don't want to know about lady problems" while actively undermining sexual harassment and making all the female characters besides queen of all midge and Susie, who despises all thing femmine, (in a way that used to feel like butch rep but with the other stuff seems now like a way to say she's competent because she's not acting like a silly girl) be portrayed as dumb.

Idk man I miss mai.

#marvelous mrs maisel #midge maisel #susie myerson #abe weissman #rose weissman #vent #rant