PIZZA IS S TIER

“what? what’s happening?” amanda said, eyes wide with sudden panic.

“i’m allergic to hazelnuts,” you said plainly, standing from your stool and placing your hands on the table. “so, i’m gonna go meet spencer and i have to go to the hospital after the epipen is administered.” everyone stared at you with dropped jaws and panicked expressions and stances.

“i am so sorry!” garrett gasped. “i had no clue, or i would’ve given a warning!” his hands covered his mouth as he shook his head. “that’s no excuse, i should’ve warned anyway. i’m so sorry.”

“it's alright, you had no idea,” you waved. you looked around at your castmates and directors. “this has been fun—i don’t wanna die on the smosh stage.” shayne laughed out in shock.

“yes! leave! right now!”

you waved before sprinting offstage.

they all stared after you in shock.

“like, what do we-“ courtney took a breath, looking to the producers. “do we keep going? what- what just happened?"

….

a week after the incident, you were worlds better than you were that day. after getting doted on by your loving friends and assuring them that you were alright, things were mostly back to normal in the smoffice.

your allergy was a complete surprise to the entire office, and you knew that. you weren't super active on social medias or super open about your personal life--it took over a year for them to even figure out you were crushing spencer before you two started dating (who always likes to tell people he knew all along, when he really didn't). it wasn't that you were uncomfortable sharing, it was simply that you didn't talk about yourself often. it wasn't a privacy or a shy thing, it was just.. you.

and so at the beginning of the week, amanda and shayne practically begged you to come onto smosh mouth and talk about yourself some more with them, for both the audience and for their sakes. you found you couldn't say no to them.

“y/n, let’s just talk about you for a second,” shayne said. you smiled as amanda clapped and cheered for you. you weren't even ten minutes into the podcast yet. “one of our newer cast members, you’ve been here for two years now..?”

“almost,” you smiled. "time flies when you're having fun they say."

“but tell us some things about you, y/n,” amanda smiled. “the fans have loved you since your first appearance, but you’re super private.” you shrugged. “like don't-even-have-tiktok-private." you giggled at that. "tell us some secrets that the fans don’t know.”

“well, i like long walks on the beach,” you sighed and they laughed. you smiled. “but for real..” you talked briefly about some of your interests and hobbies as shayne and amanda smiled and commentated. “oh, and i’m allergic to hazelnuts.”

“YES,” shayne spoke seriously. “oh my god, did we find that out in the most horrifying way possible.”

“i mean it when i say we were shitting bricks when you left that shoot, y/n,” amanda spoke with wide eyes as you giggled with slight embarrassment.

“let me say, everyone was so incredibly sweet,” you grinned. “like, you all checking in on me and making sure i was okay after the fact was so kind and i appreciated it so much. everyone showed so much care, garrett even brought me new cookies the next day with no hazelnuts.”

“yeah, ian also enacted the no-hazelnuts act of 2025,” amanda nodded, making you both laugh. “the kitchen has a new sign for it!”

you affirmed, “this is true.”

“so for those who don’t know,” shayne began, “the eat or yeet video has definitely aired by the time this will air, but there is a part where y/n and i drew the short straws to eat some cookies.” you nodded. “she ended up getting the normal one and i ate this absolutely disgusting meat cookie-”

“vile,” amanda agreed, shaking her head.

“absolutely,” shayne continued, “but y/n said she was tasting something.. weird?” he looked to you.

“yeah,” you sighed, smiling sheepishly. “i.. still don’t know what hazelnut tastes like, garrett said there was hazelnut in that cookie when he revealed it—all i had was, like, a burning sensation in my mouth at that point.” they laughed out in surprise, shayne offering a ‘wow’.

“i want you all to know, y/n had the calmest reaction to anaphylaxis i’ve ever seen in my life,” amanda declared, eyes still wide. “i don’t know if it made it into the video, i haven’t seen the edit, but after garrett said there was hazelnut she just, very calmly, turned to spencer next to her and told him where to get her epipen.” you laughed, cheeks burning at the memory.

“first, she told all of us not to freak out!” shayne added. “she said, ‘no one freak out!’, and then told us she had to go to the hospital.” you and amanda laughed. “like, i have never been around someone having an allergic reaction, but i expected more panic! more running, more urgency!”

you laughed again, hand covering your face for a moment before speaking, “yeah, that’s not my first time almost going into anaphylaxis. i just knew that if i had panicked, you all were going to panic, and that would’ve made it worse for me.” they nodded. "like, i may not have been able to get to hospital as quickly as i did."

“right.”

“but i want you all to know, spencer was the one who drove me, and he was freaking out the entire way,” you chuckled. “like, i stuck myself with the epipen, we got into his car and he’s, like, shaking.”

“oh, well, yeah!” amanda nodded. “that’s scary! your calm would’ve also freaked me out!” you laughed.

“i remember, i asked him if he was okay,” you smiled. “and he was like, ‘i-i’m okay, are you okay? that was- no, you’re not okay, we need to go.’” they laughed through your impression of spencer’s panic. “i felt so bad roping him into it, he was just the one sitting next to me in the shoot.”

“well, i bet- and we’ll have to cut this,” amanda said, looking to the producers. “i bet he was thankful he was the one who took you. if it had been my husband, or it had been courtney," she waved a hand to shayne, who nodded, "we would've wanted to be there with our partner."

you nodded, “oh, for sure. he would’ve just been pacing on set if he wasn’t pacing in the hospital. but he was so incredibly sweet, he stayed with me and was by my side as soon as i was treated. but he was infinitely more freaked out than i was.”

“but you’ve been through it before,” shayne offered.

“yeah, i have,” you nodded. “i knew how it goes and that i’d be fine as long as i got to the hospital, but spencer had never seen anything like that. he was so worried even after we left the hospital, he even offered to buy me a new epipen for my desk.” amanda ‘aww’ed. “which is sweet! but then i had to break the news that you have to have a prescription for that.” they both laughed. “but the thought was very sweet!”

“yeah, i don’t know if they kept the whole moment in or what, but there’s definitely a change from when you and spencer were there to when we pulled trevor and arasha out of the hallway to finish the video,” shayne chuckled. you laughed.

“i told them i didn’t mind if they kept it in,” you shrugged. you raised a fist. “hazelnut allergy awareness!” they laughed.

“so hazelnuts are spicy, you say? that’s the verdict?” shayne chuckled. you laughed again.

“all i know,” you said, gently dropping a hand to the table, “is that spencer agnew is sweeter than hazelnuts.” everyone ‘aww’ed. “and hotter, too.” they laughed out their surprise.

“okay, well, we do have the cut that.”

…

when you went to your boyfriend’s that night, you were smiling with the memories of talking about your experience on eat it or yeet it. though it had been scary, and you had been melting down on the inside, the care and love shown for you by your friends during and after the fact was sweet enough for you to almost forget the threatening aspect of it.

spencer greeted you with a kiss when he answered the door. “how was smosh mouth?” he asked as you kicked off your shoes. instead of answering, you just leaned in and pressed a longer, deeper kiss to his lips. he placed his hands on your waist before you pulled away. “wow. that good?”

you laughed. “we talked about my reaction on eat it or yeet it last week.” you shrugged as he gave you a half-grimace. “just got to talk about how great you were through it.”

“really?” he scoffed playfully, raising an eyebrow. “me freaking out worse than you were the entire time was great?” you giggled, placing a hand on his cheek.

“your care for me was wonderful,” you assured with a smile. “you were freaking out, but it was because you wanted to help and you wanted me to be okay. that was incredibly sweet, dear.”

“well, yeah,” he shrugged, cheeks going red at your sweet gushing. “who else is gonna bring me kickstarts and lose every board game?” you whacked his chest and pulled away from him before he could tighten his grasp. “i was kidding! joking! i meant, who else is gonna love me unconditionally and be so beautiful every day and tolerate me!”

The room was dark, the only light coming from the movie playing on the tv. It had been quiet between them for a while, but not uncomfortably. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, y/n had her head propped up on her hand, barely paying attention. Her head tilted a little, gaze turning to Damien.

He looked relaxed and at ease, finding enjoyment out of the film they were watching. His dimpled smiles and occasional giggles, and that amused look in his eyes were adorable.

She felt guilty, because she wanted to move closer to him. She wanted to lie down and cuddle with him and rest her head on his chest and lean into his forehead kisses. But she was afraid that she'd always be terrified to do that with anyone. Even if it was Damien, someone who had been nothing but lovely to her.

Something so small as holding his hand had been hard for her, and she had no idea why. She knew it felt weird, though.

It wasn't until he looked back at her that she realised how long she'd been staring at him.

"You okay, darling?". He asked, voice soft in the dark.

She hums. "Yeah... yeah. I was just thinking."

He looked at her properly, more interested in what she had to say than the movie.

"About what?".

She sighed quietly, wondering if she should even bring it up, or just leave it.

"I... it's nothing."

Sitting up, he reached for the tv remote and paused the movie before turning towards her again.

"Well, if something's bothering you I'd like to know."

Damien was probably the sweetest, most caring person she'd been with. She could feel herself falling hard for him, and it had only been six months. But that came with its own challenges, for her personally. She simply wasn't used to it.

Sensing her hesitation, he moved a little closer but was careful not to cross a boundary.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything. Right?".

She nodded, picking at her nails. "I know. It's not that, I just... does it bother you that I don't, like touch you? Or that I'm not physically affectionate with you?".

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?".

She frowned, rubbing her arm. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"What? There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart."

"Damien, do you not think it's messed up that I can't hug you or hold your hand, even if I wanted to? There's nothing stopping me, but it's hard for me and I don't know why."

His expression softened, but he shook his head. "I don't think it's messed up. You don't like to be touched, and I don't blame you. Everyone's different, it doesn't make it a bad thing. So please don't be too hard on yourself. I don't mind."

"But I want to try."

"You do?".

She nodded. "I just... don't know how."

"Okay, well let's talk about it."

"It's hard to explain."

He smiled softly. "That's okay. We can figure it out together. But you have to talk to me first."

She looked at him and sighed, unsure of how or where to start.

"Okay." He mumbled. "Can I ask you something?".

She nodded.

"What is it about physical touch that deters you from giving or receiving it? Is it a germ thing?".

"It's not a germ thing. I think... like, the want is there. But something stops me."

He tilted his head. "What do you think that is?".

"I think I'm afraid of doing something wrong. Maybe you won't accept it, or... if you touch me it won't feel right. I mean, in my head physical touch always means it has to be sexual and that scares me a little."

His expression softened.

"Y/n, physical touch can be so much more than that. You know that, right?".

"Well, yeah... I do, but it's like my brain just interprets it that way, and it's hard for me to separate the two."

He hums, hazel eyes softening at the edges. "You know, it took me a long time to be comfortable with it too."

"Really?".

"Yeah, when I was a kid I hated physical touch."

"What changed?".

He smiled slightly. "Well, I learned that it's okay to say no. I never felt pressured to give anyone a hug, so I think that helped soften it later on with my own relationships. Sometimes I still feel that way, and really don't want to be touched. But... I communicate that."

"That makes sense. I think when I was a kid, I was kinda forced to give people hugs because in my family it was seen as rude if you didn't. I always found it hard, and then later on I found out that people can touch in other ways and I didn't understand the difference between a normal touch and a sexual touch. I guess it just freaked me out."

"It's understandable." He replied. "Do you think if we practiced physical touch in a non-sexual way, it would help?".

"Maybe. But... the thought of it also kinda makes me want to die."

He chuckled. "We'll start small, and build up from there. But I need you to talk to me. What feels okay and what doesn't. Saying no when you don't feel like it. It's really important that you do that, for both of our benefit. So you feel safe and comfortable, and so I don't freak out if I do make you uncomfortable."

"Okay." She nodded. "But I don't think that'll happen, Damien. I'm more than comfortable with you."

He smiled. "I know, darling. But this is going to be different, and it'll feel scary and weird and confusing and overwhelming for you. Even though you trust me and are comfortable with me. But we'll work through whatever you're feeling together."

Damien waited a couple of weeks instead of jumping straight in the next day, before initiating any kind of physical affection. He knew it had to be him that started it at first, but he didn't do anything until she told him it was okay. And it was only small things. Like brushing his hand against hers for a second while walking.

The first time he did it, it caught her off guard. Even though she was expecting it because he had told her that he was going to do it. But it was still surprising when it happened.

His hand didn't linger, but hers twitched a little in response to his fleeting touch. She looked at him and he smiled at her.

"Too much?".

She shook her head. "Not too much. Just... confusing."

"Okay, talk to me about it."

It took a little over a month to get used to the little fleeting touches. He never did anything more and if she said no, he didn't do it at all.

But whenever he stopped, she did start to miss it a little.

It wasn't easy. Sometimes it was, and sometimes she had to take a moment to herself. Communicating when she wasn't used to doing it was stressful. Truthfully, she'd never been good at talking about how she felt. It was a miracle she even admitted her feelings for him in the first place.

One night, y/n found herself in the bathroom. She had intended to brush her teeth, and did complete that task. But her hands trembled and her legs felt like jelly, and she had to sit on the floor. Hot tears started streaming down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She tried wiping her eyes to no avail, and just let out a quiet sob.

It felt like hours before she calmed down. When her tears reduced to sniffles, she heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Y/n, you've been in there for a while now. Is everything okay?".

"Y-Yeah." Her voice was quiet and raspy, which concerned him.

"Can I come in, love?".

He heard a little "okay." and opened the door. His expression softened when he saw her.

He knelt in front of her, not too close. "Hey, hey. What happened? Are you alright?".

She shrugged. "I don't know."

With a frown, he fully sat on his knees. "Okay, remember when I said you have to talk to me? This is one of those times."

"Damien." She sniffled.

"Yes, darling?".

"Can you- just... hold me?".

He blinked and his expression fell, hesitating only for a second because he was unsure if he misheard her or she was just saying that because she didn't know what else to do.

"What?".

She looked at him, eyes watery. "Please?".

She started crying again, prompting him to move closer to her without hesitation. Sitting beside her, he put his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.

"Shh, you're okay." He muttered as she tucked her head under his chin, resting on his chest as more tears fell down her cheeks.

He held himself back from wiping them with his thumbs, only doing what she asked him to do, avoiding overwhelming her further.

"I thought you were going to yell at me." She admitted through tears.

"Oh... no, no. I'm not gonna yell at you, darling. Of course not."

His hand stroked the back of her head soothingly. "I don't do that. I promise, you'll never have to worry about that."

Eventually, he managed to calm her down and she moved her head from his chest to his shoulder. She was almost on his lap, which was new, but she didn't pull away. She just accepted where she was.

"Y/n, please talk to me." He muttered.

"I just feel like... I'm doing everything wrong. I don't feel good enough for you because you're doing all this to make me feel comfortable and I don't deserve it. It's frustrating when I want to touch you, but can't."

"Hey." He gently made her look at him. "Look what you're doing now, love."

"I... I know. But it still feels wrong."

He tilted his head. "What's wrong?".

"Well...". Her voice trailed off as she realised nothing.

He smiled softly. "Listen, I know that this isn't gonna happen again for a while. But it's a start, and now we know that you need physical touch in distress, you can handle it when you just want it."

"That's true, I guess."

"Trust me when I say you deserve this. You're facing a fear, y/n. That's a big deal, and the fact that you trust me enough to help you through it speaks for itself."

She smiled, nodding. "Okay."

"Have you had enough of this yet?". He asked, well aware that she could be getting uncomfortable and not telling him.

"No." She replied. "Can we stay like this a little longer?".

"Of course." He chuckled. "Are you liking it?".

She nodded, prompting him to tighten his grip on her. But he still left room for her to move away if she needed to.

"Yeah, I don't know what's happening either."

He smiled. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to."

"Thank you." She sighed, burying her face into his collarbone. They stayed there for a while, sitting on the bathroom floor. But for the first time, she felt content just being in his arms.

Damien had been right, though. It was still overwhelming, and y/n found that she didn't want his touch the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. And he didn't mind.

When she finally started craving it again, she was hesitant to ask or talk about it. She didn't want him to hold her or anything this time, but she did start doing a new thing; holding the end of his sleeve. It was a little bit of a compromise, a way for her to touch him without touching him. The first time she did it and he realised why she was doing it, it melted his heart.

The sleeve holding slowly evolved into holding his finger. He never said a thing, never put any pressure on it, never gripped her finger back. It was her thing that seemed to soothe her and make her feel comfortable, he didn't want to make it a 'them' thing.

Then, while walking in the park, he caught her trying to fully slip her hand into his.

He paused, looking back at her and tilting his head. She swallowed thickly, glancing at his hand.

"Hey." He said softly. "You don't have to if you're not ready. It's okay."

"I want to."

His eyebrows shot up. "You want to hold my hand?".

She nodded. "Yes."

"Okay." He smiled, holding his hand out. After about three seconds, she took it and he gently linked their fingers together. She smiled shyly, squeezing softly.

"Not so bad?". He hums.

"It's... nice."

Pulling her a little closer, he kissed her forehead. "I'm so proud of you, y/n."

That night when they went to bed, she slept a little closer to him than usual.

They handled it together. There were ups and downs, of course. Some days y/n clung to him like a koala bear, other days it seemed like she didn't want anything to do with him. He knew it wasn't that, though. He was learning her cues and body language, and somehow just knew when she didn't want his touch. But he was okay with it. He was okay with all of it, even the meltdowns in the middle of the night. Which there had been a few of now. Mostly due to waking up in a panic because she was actually touching someone.

He was there through it all though. She couldn't believe it. How he hadn't given up on her yet she'd never know.

"Damien."

"Yeah, love?".

"Can we cuddle?".

He sat up to look at her. "Are you sure?".

"Yeah."

He tilted his head. "Any particular reason?".

"No, just... feel like it."

Shifting to lie down, he made himself comfortable, then motioned for her to move closer. She did, he noticed, with little hesitation. Lying down with him, she sank into his arms and rested her head on his chest. When she was comfortable, he kissed her head.

"You okay?". He checked.

She nodded, letting out a sigh of content, making him smile softly.

"I love you, y/n." He said, feeling like it was the right time to say it for the first time.

"Really?".

"Of course, I do." He replied softly. "But please don't feel pressured to say it right now. I just want you to know."

She smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you too, Damien."

Chuckling in amusement, he nodded. "Okay, darling."

"Are you falling asleep?".

"Maybe."

"It's okay if you do."

Tilting her head up, she looked up at him with tired eyes. "It is?".

He nodded like it was the simplest thing in the world. "I've got you. You can sleep if you want to."

I've got you. What a wonderful thing to hear knowing he meant it.

She fell asleep in his arms, laying on his chest. Even though it wasn't that late. It was just out of pure comfort, warmth and security from him.

The softness of the moment seeped into him and he fell asleep soon after she did.

When she woke up, she didn't panic. For a few minutes, she just stayed where she was, happy to be so close to him. She felt the rise and fall of each of his steady breaths. He was still sleeping. She just looked at him. He looked so peaceful, and it seemed like he appreciated the closeness as much as she did.

"You're staring." He muttered, shifting to lie on his side, facing her.

Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Sorry, I thought you were asleep."

"I was." He chuckled, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "It's okay."

He instinctively kissed her shoulder and collarbone. She wasn't opposed to it. It was only for a second and his lips were soft.

"Good morning, love."

"Morning."

"I'm surprised to see you're still here."

"So am I." She smiled bashfully.

She sighed quietly, feeling conflicted. She wasn't sure if she wanted away or wanted him to pull her closer. But he saw the look on her face and his expression softened.

"You had enough?".

She nodded.

"Okay." Shifting over, he let her get up and she didn't fully pull away. But she created some space for herself, which he respected by not touching her unless she initiated it.

"Damien, you know it's not you that I have issues with. Right?".

"No, I know that, darling."

"Does it upset you when I pull away?".

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. I would much rather you do that than stay and feel uncomfortable."

"Really?".

"I promise."

_

In her own apartment, a few weeks later, y/n was lying on the floor in the living room. Not for any particular reason, but sometimes it helped ground her when she was disassociating. Staring at the ceiling she just thought about Damien and how good he'd been to her. It had been a while since she'd felt like this for anyone. But it was nice knowing that she was in a relationship with someone who was emotionally mature, and seemed to know how to bring that out of her too.

She was getting better at communicating with him, maybe not always telling him how she was feeling. Something he had been getting her to do was call him whenever she thought of something she wanted to tell him. It was small and mundane, but those conversations often led to deeper ones, and in doing so, they both learned a lot more about each other.

She now got excited to tell him things, and he always answered.

Sitting up, she grabbed her phone and called him.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she waited. She wasn't waiting for long. He answered within seconds as always.

"Hello, darling."

"Hi." She replied quietly.

"How are you?".

"I'm good."

"Good... is everything okay?".

"Damien."

"Mhm?".

"I don't want to talk." She sighed.

"Oh... okay. That's fine. What do you want to do?".

"Nothing. I just felt like calling you, but I don't want to talk about anything."

"That's okay. You don't have to. Do you want me to come over?".

"No, thank you." She replied quietly.

"Alright. Would you like me to talk?".

"Can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?".

"Of course I can, darling."

Getting up from the floor, she moved to the couch and grabbed a blanket before making herself comfy. Resting her head on a cushion, she let out a sigh.

For a while, she just listened to him talk about his day. It wasn't anything she had to pay much attention to, the tone of his voice was comforting enough it almost didn't matter what he was saying. And he seemed to pick up on that, choosing to stick to simple topics and intentionally avoiding rants about specific things. He knew that wasn't what she needed.

"Dames...".

"Mhm?".

"I know I'm not good at telling you how I feel. But... sometimes it's nice just to not say anything."

"I agree."

She sighed quietly. "If I asked you to come over now, what would you say?".

He chuckled softly. "I'm already grabbing my keys, love."

A tiny smile appeared on her face. "How did you know?".

"I could just feel it coming."

She giggled. "Thank you, Damien."

"I won't be long."

She fell asleep in his arms that night, and it was quickly becoming her favourite place to be.

It wasn't every day, and it wasn't all at once. But eventually Damien's touch became something she couldn't live without.

_______

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Damien

@4ria790

For a second, you thought maybe someone had forgotten to turn off a lamp. But as you leaned closer, peeking past the railing, you spotted him.

Ian.

He was hunched over one of the tables, a laptop open in front of him, scattered papers framing his figure like a halo of clutter. The glow of the desk lamp softened his profile — a mix of concentration and exhaustion — and you caught yourself smiling before you could stop it.

Quietly, you stepped onto the floor. “Hey,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.

He turned almost instantly, those familiar blue eyes finding yours. “Hey, doll.” The nickname rolled out so naturally, like he hadn’t even thought about it. “What are you doing here so late?”

You walked up to him, resting a hand on the back of his chair, close enough to see the tired lines around his eyes. “That’s my question. What are you doing here?”

Ian leaned back slightly, shoulders loosening as he looked up at you. “Just working on an upcoming project. Something new. You know me, I get caught up.”

“You always do,” you teased lightly, letting your hand brush against his shoulder as you circled the chair.

He tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Shouldn’t you be heading home? It’s really late.”

“I was about to,” you admitted, sliding onto the edge of the table so you were sitting face-to-face with him. “But if you’re still working, maybe you could use some help?”

Ian shook his head, chuckling softly. “Oh no, it's fine. You’ve done enough today. I can handle it.”

You crossed your arms, leaning closer with a playful challenge in your eyes. “I don’t have anything very interesting to do at home. Besides… I want to help.”

Something flickered across his expression — warmth, gratitude, something unspoken — before he gave in with a sigh. “Alright. If you insist.”

-

The next hour slipped by in a blur. The two of you went through draft notes, tossing ideas back and forth. What should’ve been tedious work felt strangely effortless; every time you suggested something, Ian’s face lit up as if you’d voiced the exact thought he hadn’t yet put into words.

At one point, he laughed so hard he had to set his pen down, shaking his head. “God, we’re dangerous together. If we actually combined all our ideas, the internet wouldn’t know what hit it.”

You laughed too, unable to stop watching the way his smile reached his eyes. Dangerous was right.

Eventually, Ian leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms high above his head with a groan. His t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before he dropped his arms with a sigh. “Really, it’s a good thing you stayed. I probably wouldn’t have finished this on my own.”

You smiled, swinging your legs idly from your spot on the table. “Oh, it’s nothing. I actually enjoyed helping. Especially you.”

The words slipped out before you realized how they sounded. But Ian didn’t laugh it off. He didn’t brush it aside. Instead, he froze for a second, his eyes finding yours in the low light.

And suddenly, the room shifted.

The hum of the lamp, the quiet of the building, the closeness between you — everything condensed into that single moment where neither of you looked away.

Before you could think, Ian moved closer. One hand found your waist as he stepped between your knees, and then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was warm, certain, and it knocked the air from your lungs. Instinctively, you kissed him back, your hands reaching for his shoulders, pulling him closer. For a few precious seconds, you forgot everything else.

But then, reality crashed in, and you broke the kiss, your forehead still brushing his. “Ian… no. That’s not right.”

His brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “What do you mean?”

“You’re my boss,” you whispered, though your heart was racing, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “If we… if this happens, it could mess everything up.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you. Then Ian shook his head, his voice low but firm. “No. It won’t. None of that will happen.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for hesitation, but found only determination.

“I’ve felt this for months,” he admitted, his hand still steady on your waist. “And I know you feel it too. The way you look at me, the way we are together — it’s not just work. It’s us.”

Your breath caught, and when he leaned in again, you didn’t resist. This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, and he responded instantly, his hands roaming your back, your sides, like he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

You laughed against his lips, a mix of relief and thrill, before whispering mischievously, “Take me to the sofa in the study.”

Ian pulled back just enough to see the glint in your eyes, his own smile spreading, warm and boyish but tinged with something more. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Only with you,” you shot back, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Still holding your hand, Ian led you out of the writer’s floor, down the dim hallway, toward the study. His pace was quick, like he was afraid the moment would slip away if he didn’t grab hold of it.

When the two of you reached the study, the shadows stretched long across the room, and the old sofa sat waiting in the corner like it had been expecting you. Ian turned to you, eyes soft but burning, and pulled you close again, sealing his mouth to yours as the rest of the world fell away.

The papers, the work, the roles you played — none of it mattered anymore. Only this did.

And in that quiet, after-hours glow, you finally gave in to what had been inevitable all along.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging gently, and the soft groan that escaped his throat made your stomach flip. He deepened the kiss in response, one hand sliding from your waist to your hip, anchoring you firmly against him.

“Ian,” you whispered between kisses, voice shaky but charged, “this is insane.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his pupils dark and blown wide. “No,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, “this is inevitable.”

The honesty in his tone made your chest tighten. Every glance you’d shared across meeting tables, every late-night laugh, every lingering touch suddenly fit together like pieces of a puzzle you’d both been too afraid to solve.

His lips trailed along your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, each brush of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your head back instinctively, granting him more, and his arm tightened around your waist in response.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he confessed against your skin, his words vibrating through you, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as if he were holding himself together by a thread. “Then don’t stop,” you breathed, the admission tumbling out before you could second-guess it.

He pulled you closer, so close you could feel every line of him against you. His hand traced up your side, pausing just beneath your ribs, fingertips grazing the edge of your shirt. It wasn’t hurried — it was reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

The kisses grew hungrier, the air between you hot and unsteady. You tangled your legs with his, pulling him closer still, the heat of his body overwhelming and grounding all at once. The sofa creaked softly, an intimate soundtrack to the moment unraveling around you.

Your breath caught when his lips found your ear. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, voice low, desperate.

You clutched him tighter, answering not with words but by pulling his mouth back to yours, kissing him like there would be no tomorrow.

Everything fade to black.

It’s unlikely that anyone from work would be calling them. After all, they're both in the building, shooting a video. Anyone needing to reach them would know this and would have come straight to the set. 

Which means it’s highly probable that you’re the reason they’ve both received numerous texts and missed calls. The two of them share a concerned look, and that’s when the others catch up. 

It had been a bit of drama when you started dating Spencer. As Ian’s little sister, everyone at Smosh had always thought you would be off limits. But you didn’t believe in that rule. So what if he worked for your brother? He was cute, funny, kind. So you went after what, or rather who, you wanted. 

Spencer himself was unsure at first. You completely understood why he was concerned. After all, your big brother was the boss, and employees tend to avoid dating the boss’s sister. But eventually, it all worked out. 

Ian and Spencer have always been good coworkers, and then friends, and now, they have this new relationship: potential future in-laws.

One thing they definitely have in common: they both care about you deeply, and love you. So when Ian’s phone rings again from an unknown number in Los Angeles he quickly picks up. 

“Hello?” He asks, standing up and walking off set. No one follows as he steps out of earshot, not even Spencer. He’s unsure if he’s giving Ian privacy, or if he’s so anxious that he’s frozen to the spot. 

“Hello. I’m calling for Ian Hecox,” The woman on the phone states. 

“This is he,” Ian replies. 

“I am calling from Los Angeles Regional Hospital. We have a patient here named Y/N Hecox and you’re listed as her emergency contact-”

“Is she okay?” He asks, his voice full of worry.

“She was in a car accident earlier this afternoon. She’s currently in our Emergency Department being triaged. Unfortunately I don’t have more detailed information at this time.”

“Ok thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

After hanging up, Ian looks at all the other notifications on his phone. He has missed calls from you, but no voicemails. You’d texted as well, but it was practically gibberish. He walks back to where the others are and sees Spencer still seated, looking through his phone. 

“Have you gotten anything from Y/N?” Ian asks him. 

“Nothing that makes any sense,” Spencer replies. “What’s wrong?”

“She was in an accident. I just got a call from the hospital.”

“Is-is she okay?” Spencer stutters out. 

“They said they were checking her out but didn’t have any other information. Are you coming with me to the hospital?”

“Of course!” Spencer finally stands and the two men grab their belongings. 

“I’ll drive,” Shayne says. Ian opens his mouth to decline but Shayne says, “Neither of you should be driving right now.”

“He’s right,” Spencer says, clearly shaken. Ian looks at the two of them before letting out a shaky breath and nodding, silently agreeing that it’s best for Shayne to take them. 

The other people in the room are watching, and they want to reassure the boys, but with nothing to go on it’s hard not to assume the worst case scenario. They know that whatever they say isn’t really going to reach them. Plus, everyone at Smosh considers you a friend, and everyone is worried about you. They just try to not show it, knowing that Ian and Spencer are panicking enough already. 

Quickly, they gather their things and head to Shayne’s car. Ian spends the ride reading through all your jumbled messages, trying to see if he can make sense of anything. Meanwhile Spencer sits in the back, his leg bouncing as he tries to keep his anxiety down, tries to stop imagining how bad it might be. 

Shayne drops the two off and goes to park the car. Ian speaks to the receptionist, while Spencer hangs behind him, unsure what to do, where he should be. It’s only a couple minutes before Ian is back, explaining, “Y/N’s upstairs getting some scans. We need to wait here until someone comes to tell us more.”

“Did they say anything else? I mean, is she alright?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“Apparently they can only see minor injuries but they need to rule out any breaks or internal bleeding,” Ian answers. 

Spencer nods and finds an empty area to pace in while Ian takes a seat in the corner. Shayne finds them a few minutes later, sitting with Ian and listening to the update. 

After what feels like an eternity a doctor comes out asking for Ian Hecox. Both Ian and Shayne stand to talk with the doctor, but Spencer can’t bring himself to join them. Right now your condition is unknown, and he can keep telling himself that you’re just fine. 

But what if the doctor has bad news? Spencer doesn’t know how he’ll handle that. So he stays away, trying to remain cautiously optimistic for at least another moment. 

He does watch Ian’s reaction, and when he seems to let out a sigh of relief while Shayne smiles next to him, Spencer allows himself to actually hope that you’re okay. He starts walking over to the others and just as he gets there the doctor says, “You can go see her in a moment. One of the nurses will come get you.”

“Thank you,” Ian says and the doctor turns to find another family. 

“No broken bones or internal bleeding,” Ian says to Spencer. “Not even any stitches. Just some bad bruising and some scrapes.”

“Thank god,” Spencer says. The adrenaline rushes out of him, and it feels like all the air goes with him, leaving him feeling shaky all of a sudden. He sits in the closest chair, holding his head in his hands. 

“You alright?” Shayne asks. 

Spencer takes a deep, shaky breath and says, “Yea. I’m just- I’m relieved.” 

Shayne gets it. Doesn’t need to hear anything more. He knows Spencer was freaking out internally, panicking even though he seemed so controlled externally. So Shayne just puts a comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment before giving Spencer some room. 

They wait a few minutes and then a nurse comes to lead them to the room you’re in. 

“We’re just getting the discharge paperwork together and she’ll be able to go home soon,” the woman says as they reach your room. 

Ian enters first, Spencer close behind while Shayne hovers by the door. 

“What the hell happened?” Ian asks as he stands beside you. It’s a brash question, but asked in a quiet, concerned tone. 

You take a deep breath, somewhat shaky now that you have people here to support you. They don’t know that you’ve been holding yourself together. Staying strong for the past couple hours since experiencing the single most terrifying event of your life. 

Ian notices this, but even though he's your big brother who’s been by your side your entire life, this is new territory for him. Sure he’s seen you upset before, but half the time his teasing was the reason. Other times you were venting about your parents and all he had to do was listen and agree. Then there were the occasions when your friends were being mean or a boy broke your heart. In those cases he always promised to hunt them down and fight them. You knew that would never actually happen, but it was the thought that counted. 

But here you are, seeming so young and vulnerable, and Ian doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Luckily Spencer is there. And instead of freezing like Ian, the sight of you scared in that bed moves him to action. He stands on your side opposite Ian, and gently takes your hand in his while wrapping his other arm around your shoulders, tucking you to his chest. It’s not exactly comfortable, so after some shifting he sits next to you and holds you that way. 

“It was an idiot on their cellphone,” you finally say. “He blew right through a stop sign, didn’t even slow down. He hit my drivers side, but like, the backseat and trunk. Spun my car a couple times and I crashed into a light pole.”

You shudder involuntarily as you relive it, and Spencer holds you tighter to him. Ian finally moves forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. At his touch you shift away from Spencer, letting your brother hug you for a moment. 

After a minute you move to get more comfortable and groan in pain. 

“What hurts?” Ian asks as he pulls away, scared that he’s touching some injury. 

“Nothing exactly,” you answer. “Or, well, everything does. I don’t know. I’m just sore all over.”

Spencer gingerly takes your hand in his again, trying to comfort without causing any pain. 

“Glad to see you’re okay,” Shayne says from his spot at the door. “And I’ll give you a ride home whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. I think I’m waiting on paperwork or something?”

“The nurse said they were getting that ready,” Ian states. 

Thankfully it’s only a moment later that she’s back, a stack of papers in hand. She explains your care instructions for the upcoming days, how to deal with the pain you’ll be feeling, and what symptoms would require you to come back to the hospital. After that she has you sign some papers, and your hospital visit is officially over. 

“I’ll bring the car around,” Shayne says. He leaves to do that and you try to slide off the bed. As soon as your legs touch the floor, you feel how sore and weak they are, causing you to start to tip over. Both men reach out to steady you. Once sure you’re not going to fall over, Ian steps back allowing Spencer to support you. 

He helps you walk out to where Shayne is waiting with the car. 

“Do you want to ride in the front so you’re more comfortable?” Ian asks. 

“No, you take that. I want to sit in the back,” you answer. Spencer helps you into the seat before walking around and sitting on the other side. But as soon as he settles he notices your shaking deep breaths and opts to sit in the middle seat so he can be closer to you. You give him a grateful look, and the anxiety of getting back in a car so soon after the accident lessens with him by your side. 

“Where am I going?” Shayne asks. 

It’s a good question, and you don’t have an answer right away so you look at Spencer. 

“Do you want to stay with me? Or I could come stay with you,” he says and you nod. Ian gives Shayne your address and he begins to drive. Spencer puts his arm around your shoulders and you tuck into his side, hiding your face in his neck so you don’t have to see the other cars on the road. 

It doesn’t take long to get back to your place and you thank Shayne as Spencer comes around to help you out. 

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ian says. “I’ll come by later to drop off Spencer’s car and I’ll get some things from the store on my way.”

“Thanks,” you say, grateful to have your brother live so close by. Spencer once again supports you and helps you get inside your apartment. 

“I want a shower,” you state. You start walking towards your bathroom, only making it a few steps before needing to rest on the couch. 

“How about I draw you a bath?” Spencer asks quietly. 

You’re not typically one to take baths, and Spencer knows this. But he also knows that you’re not strong enough to stand in the shower right now. You feel like you’re admitting defeat by nodding yes, but it’s the best choice right now. 

“You sit here, I’ll come get you when it’s ready,” he says, placing a kiss on your head before walking away. It’s only a couple minutes later that he’s back, helping you to the bathroom. 

The two of you stand there and it’s obvious that he doesn’t know exactly what to do now. “I’ll uhm, I can just-” he fumbles, leading you to say, “Stay. Please.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice almost a whisper, knowing that this is a vulnerable time for you. With his assistance, you manage to get undressed and in the tub. It’s a bit of a process, but soon you’re feeling clean, Spencer methodically washing your hair before carefully scrubbing your body. When that’s done he helps you get dressed and in bed. 

Just as you’re settling in there’s a knock at the door, and Spencer goes to answer it. He lets Ian in and your brother walks into the bedroom.

“Got you some pain medicine. Also ice packs and a heating pad, not sure which one you’d need. And I talked to someone from your insurance agency so that’s being taken care of.”

“Thank you,” you reply. You and Ian might not be the kind of siblings that talk about feelings or hug it out, but you will always be there for each other. And right now, you really appreciate all that he’s doing for you.

“Need anything else?” he asks.

“No, I think I’m good. Probably just need to go easy for a couple days and then I should be good to go,” you answer, trying to sound as positive as possible. 

“Alright well, call me if you need me,” he says, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before walking out of the bedroom.

You relax into the comfy blankets, closing your eyes to get some rest, and therefore missing the conversation in the other room.

“Thanks for bringing my car back,” Spencer says. “And for all this,” he adds, gesturing to the bags on the table.”

“Yea, like I said, if you guys need anything else shoot me a text.” Ian stands awkwardly for a moment, looking back towards your room. He takes a deep breath and looks at Spencer and says, “Take care of her, okay?”

“Of course. Always,” Spencer confirms. 

“I really am happy for you two. You’re good for each other,” Ian says, causing Spencer to smile. 

“Thanks, man. She makes me really happy. And today?” His smile falls thinking back to earlier that afternoon. “Well, not knowing if she was badly hurt, that was one of the worst moments of my life. So I know it must've been awful for you.”

“Yea, I mean, as her big brother, no one's allowed to hurt her but me. And I swear, we stopped wrestling when she turned ten, so that hasn't happened in years.”

“Did you stop because she started winning?” Spencer jokes.

“Oh, absolutely. She’s got an impressive headlock,” Ian replies with a laugh. “I’m gonna head out. Oh, and you’re off the schedule for the rest of the week. Just, be here for Y/N, we’ll cover you at work.”

“Thanks. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Ian says. “Keep me updated,” he adds and walks to the front door.

“Will do,” Spencer confirms as Ian leaves. After checking the door is secure, Spencer heads back to the bedroom but finds you’re already asleep. It’s a bit early, but after the day you’ve had he’s not surprised that you’re exhausted. He puts the new ice packs in the freezer to chill and eats a little dinner before joining you in bed. 

You sleep soundly through the night, but wake up with a groan, feeling somehow more sore than the day before. As promised, Spencer takes care of you, helping you with whatever you need. 

Within a few days you’re feeling better physically. But you struggle mentally, getting anxious every time you get into a car. Luckily Spencer and Ian don’t have any problems driving you wherever you need to be until you’re ready to get behind the wheel again. 

This whole ordeal is one of the scariest things you’ve ever gone through, but with Ian and Spencer by your side, you’re able to heal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You could feel all the hairs on your neck stand up, how could they not when the hottest man you had ever met was trying to get in your pants despite the morning breath? His hand slipped into your boxers, but only stayed to rest at the waist band, although having his hand there almost instinctively made you open your legs.

You twisted in his arms to face him but before you could say anything he caught your lips in a deep kiss, pulling you into him. You felt him shifting, moving you to lay on your back as he hovered over you. His hair falling over his eyes.

"See?" he murmured against your jaw "if you got up, this wouldn't be happening."

As you were about to protest, the list of chores and errands racing in your head, all you could feel was his hands slip down though your boxers, immediately finding your clit. You gasped and suddenly all you could think of was his hands on you. He kissed you again as his hand persisted, moving his hand in a circular pattern.

"God, you're so easy first thing in the morning." he teased, resting his forehead against yours, watching how your face contorted from his touch. "All sleep, but so willingly."

You rocked yourself into his hand, needing more. He chuckled lowly before moving his hand from your core and tugging down your boxers, exposing yourself to him entirely.

"God, you're so handsome, baby."

He pressed soft kisses into your knee before moving downward, teasing you all but a little with how slow he was going.

"Damien, please.."

How could he say not to how pretty his name sounded on your lips? He sped up his kisses before you were finally able to feel his mouth on you. The wet heat from his tongue on you, had your back arching and fingers lacing their way through his bedhead. Ever since having started testosterone, you had become five times more sensitive than before, which Damien used to his advantage. He sucked on your bottom growth, causing his name to flow from your lips, the only noise in the room. He hummed against you, holding your legs from closing his head in, letting out soft groans against you when you pulled his hair. His tongue circled over you, again and again, until you were reaching your breaking point.

"Fuck, Dame.. I'm gonna- fuck."

You were breathless and he kept going, until he felt you trembling under his mouth, legs squeezing around his head. When he had finally freed himself, he climbed to lay beside you, his lips wet with you. He gave you a soft kiss as if he wasn't just pushing you to the point of almost screaming.

"Good morning."

He smiled. What a cheeky bastard. You were still catching your breath when you felt him against your thigh, cock pressed against his boxers. You averted your gaze to him.

"You, sir, are insatiable."

"Me?" His laugh was cocky despite the flushed pink tone to his cheeks. "You know I always need a second cup of coffee.."

You swatted his arm, but the joke fell through when you opened your legs and pulled him back into you. He shimmied his boxers down, before slipping himself in, slowly. He bottomed out and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Fuck - you feel so good, like home."

You pulled Damien into you even more, scratching at his back. His thursts were steady, not wanting to rush any second of this. His hand had found yours and he laced his fingers with yours, holding it to the bed. The room was filled with the soft sounds of his groaning, your moaning and bed creaking. It was slowly beginning to build up, waves and waves washing upon you. You clenched around him, pulling and holding him into you. He spilt inside of you and nearly collapsed on you.

After a few seconds of rubbing his back and him leaving soft kisses against his head, he finally lifted himself up and pulled out. He collapsed in the bed besides you and cuddled up to your side.

"You sir, are very dangerous. I may never leave this bed again."

"You say that like its a bad thing." You brushed hair from his eyes, looking upon him fondly.

He buried his face in your neck, mumbling against your skin. "I have a new full-time job, waking you up like this, every morning. I think it is much better than coffee."

Once he felt ready, he finally peeled himself out of your bed, going to get a towel and clean you off. He was insist on that and water, you teased him for looking so serious, causing him to drop his serious tone and giggle with you. He kissed your knees before going back out the room and coming back with two mugs, the delicious smell wafting in the air.

It had gone untouched on the nightstand as the two of you cuddled up with one another. You heard him let out a soft yawn.

"Okay, maybe I still need coffee eventually, but you'll always come first... pun intended."

You laughed but couldn't help melting into him at the sentiment. The warmth washing over you at the certainty in his voice. Outside, the sunlight spilled brighter through the curtains, but that wasn't bothering you. The only thing that mattered was his arms, his breath and the quiet air between the two of you.

Long shoot blocks, you’d learned, usually devolved into long nights out. The cast and crew—or, at least, those of whom had the time and the desire to let loose—often found themselves in bars with high ceilings, with music playing too loud, and drinks that were just strong enough. There were nights when you lost Arasha and Amanda to the grimy dancefloor as soon as you passed the threshold, and nights when you watched from afar as Chanse cozied up to a beautiful stranger.

You liked listening to your friends talk and laugh as if you weren’t all exhausted after the grueling work week.

You liked feeling like part of something.

Some nights, though, when Shayne and Spencer got tired of hugging the wall, and when you’d all realized how expensive it was to go out as often as you did, someone would offer their house as a respite from the outside world. It was a chance to avoid prying eyes and the same top 40 hits that seemed to play at every bar.

Now, you found yourself at Damien’s house; someone had dimmed the lights, and from your spot on the couch you could hear glasses clinking in the kitchen as Tommy poured various liquids into a makeshift mixer. Your friends held mugs of alcohol, pretending to be above the culture of red solo cups.

You watched Amanda and Angela play a card game you didn’t know on the coffee table in front of you.

“Your pile is huge—your pile is huge, oh my god!” Amanda’s voice carried over the other noises around you. You leaned against Angela’s shoulder.

“Because you’re playing wrong! You’re cheating! You’re literally cheating and it’s so uncool.” Angela tried to grab Amanda’s cards, and you smiled at their back and forth. You were admittedly distracted, but trying to play it cool, pretending your mind wasn’t elsewhere as Angela jostled your head.

You watched Damien out of the corner of your eye. He stood across the room, toying with one of his rings, nodding along to something Alex was saying.

You tried not to stare, but there was something so attractive about the way he looked in a space all his own; he didn’t command attention—Damien hated being the center of attention, especially when it was easily avoidable—but he had a way about him tonight that just seemed so relaxed, and it was hard to ignore. Especially when he was already taking up most of your thoughts as it was.

For as long as you’d worked with Damien, he was someone you looked forward to seeing. He wasn’t the only reason you got out of bed, but he was certainly up there on the list. Thoughtful, considerate; he was a generally good-natured person. He made the days go faster, making jokes and ensuring you felt included as a newer member of the cast.

And you liked his laugh, and the way he listened, and the soft color of his hazel eyes that looked somewhere close to green in the light.

It was no secret that you found him alluring, but you felt that it was better to keep those thoughts out of his orbit. If not for your sake, for his. It just seemed unfair to come onto him after you’d spent so much time together as friends, especially when he had given you no reason to think that he felt anything for you beyond camraderie.

You sat up from your position on Angela's shoulder, moving your head to get a better look at Damien. He noticed, shooting you a smile. You reciprocated it, offering a small wave, keeping your elbow low and fingers folded near your palm. He waved back, and you both quickly returned to your respective conversations.

Amanda and Angela had gone back to playing their game, light-hearted fighting words replaced by laughs as they smacked cards down.

There was a tap on your shoulder, and Courtney pulled you up from the couch.

“Come to the bathroom with me.” She set a cup of something that smelled strong on the table.

The rules of the bar still applied to house parties, and you had no problem tagging along on trips to the bathroom, sitting pretty while your friends fixed whatever makeup was still left of that morning’s full beat. You followed Courtney down the hallway and into the bathroom.

“You’re bright red, you know,” They wasted no time in grilling you, running the water and dabbing it under their eyes to wipe away streaks of mascara that had rubbed off.

“I had a Tommy special.” You sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“That’s not—you can handle your liquor.” Courtney turned, combing through their hair with her fingers, “You’re not blushing just because Tommy gave you one vodka cran.”

“It wasn’t a vodka cran. It was a vodka soda.” You could tell where the conversation was headed, and you tried to veer it off track.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are.” Courtney raised a brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He hasn’t even spoken to me tonight.” You contradicted yourself, markedly aware of what she was referring to and feeding into the topic, but disputing what you could.

“You’re oblivious.” Courtney laughed, fishing lip gloss from her pocket and turning back to the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You stood behind them, watching her reapply the color to their lips.

“Have you ever noticed,” Courtney popped her lips together, spreading the gloss, “That Damien only ever offers to host when he knows you’re going to come?” She turned to you again, leaning back, elbows on the sink. “Almost like he just wants an excuse to have you over.”

“He doesn’t do that. Damien is always offering to host. Doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.” You retorted.

“Not true,” they shook their head, “On days that you're not around and we don’t feel like going to the bar, Tommy always hosts. Or Amanda. Or Ian.”

“Tommy has more alcohol at his place.” You ignored the rest of the list, still trying to change the subject.

“Dude,” Courtney was laughing now, “It’s like you don’t want to see it.”

“See what?” Your ears began to feel hot.

“That he likes you as much as you like him.” The words had a tone of finality. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Bec—are you serious? Why wouldn’t I be nervous? Why would I run the risk of ruining a perfectly good friendship? Or, you know, whatever it is—however you might describe what it is!” You started to ramble, digging yourself into a hole, “What happens if something happens and then—it could ruin work, Court. It could ruin everything!” You suddenly became aware that you were whisper-yelling. You cleared your throat, returning to a normal tone of voice. “It could ruin everything. That’s why people don’t fuck their coworkers.”

Courtney said nothing, just held up their hand and made a point of showing you the wedding band around their ring finger. She cleared her throat.

“That’s different.” You tried to backpedal.

“How?” Courtney looked amused, eager to hear your half-baked reasoning.

“Cause of course that worked out. Look at how Shayne looks at you. Look at how obvious of a pairing you two are.”

“Same way Damien looks at you.” Courtney smirked.

“You’re reading into this more than I am.” You shook your head at them. “He would’ve made a point to do something by now.”

“Are we…talking about the same Damien?” Courtney laughed, and you responded with a tight-lipped scowl. “In what world would he ever make a first move?”

“The ideal one. Where everything goes my way.” You scoffed, folding your arms.

“Right,” Courtney put a hand on your waist, and you looked at each other. “Approach this with more confidence, is all I’m saying. Give yourself—give him—the opportunity to make something happen.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, unfolding your arms and rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no, you’re right.” She gave you a cocky look, and you slapped their arm gently, “Don’t rub it in.”

“You’re hot,” Courtney rubbed her thumb over the exposed skin of your waist, “And sweet. You deserve the world. And I love the both of you more than words, but you act like you’ve never had a crush before.”

“Not like this.” You admitted, and they smiled.

“I know. But you have nothing to lose.” They looked around as if they were afraid someone might be listening from behind the shower curtain, “I have it on good authority that he feels just as strongly about this thing—” she gesticulated vaguely, “as you do.” She smiled, turning to open the door. You grabbed her by the arm.

“What did Shayne tell you—what did Damien tell Shayne?” You tried to pull them back as they turned the door handle, but she wiggled from your grasp.

“You didn’t hear it from me!” She called back to you, leaving you alone in the bathroom to ruminate on the conversation. 

~~~

It was still early when people started to trickle out. You knew when Shayne and Courtney left that the party was over.

“Do you guys need a ride?” You sidled up to Courtney where she stood in the foyer with Shayne, “I don’t mind driving you home. I’m sober. Stone cold.”

“Oh my god—Steve Austin, I love your work!” Spencer called over to you while he herded a cheerfully inebriated Tommy through the door. Shayne let out a quick, barking laugh.

“No, don’t worry about it. We’re ubering.” Courtney moved hair from your face, and you saw something dubious hidden in her smile. She leaned further into your space, lowering their voice, “And you’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” You made a face.

“Give yourself,” they pressed a finger to your chest, “an opportunity.”

You grasped her hand, squeezing her fingers. Shayne looked on, and if he knew what you were talking about, he kept it to himself.

“I’m leaving. I’ll be gone—out the door right after you.” You argued, and Courtney raised her eyebrows, waving you off before exiting. Shayne followed close behind her.

You didn’t leave right after them. As it turned out, you didn’t really want to leave at all.

You liked Damien’s house. It was spooky year-round, warm in both temperature and color palette, and his couch was cozy.

It wasn’t just the furniture; Damien’s presence was equally as, if not more, comforting. He walked around picking up whatever had been misplaced during the night, trying to find the right spot for it all. He hummed quietly to himself, shooing the cats away with his feet.

“I’m sorry for not helping,” you shifted on the couch, lying on your side.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled, “It’s fun to organize.”

“That is such a you thing to say, you know that?”

“What is?”

“That organizing is fun.”

“It is. Especially when I have company while I do it.” He looked pointedly at you. You held eye contact.

“You can tell me to leave. If you’re done for the night.”

“Why would I want you to leave?” He looked genuinely curious as to why you would think he’d want you gone.

“If you’re tired, or something. I get it.”

“No,” he shook his head, grabbing a cup that had been left half-full on a bookshelf, “I like having you around.”

“Can I get that as a written statement? Signed, dated…” You sat up a bit, positioning your head on the armrest of the sofa.

“Absolutely not. Nobody can ever know.” He laughed, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Come sit with me.” You leaned over to pat a cushion before returning to your reclined position.

It could’ve just been the liquid courage you’d ingested, but you’d only had one drink. It was hardly enough to make you feel a buzz, let alone get you drunk. Maybe you were just thinking too much about what Courtney had said, about giving yourself a chance, finding an opening to let him in. Or maybe you were just really, really comfortable where you were spread out on the couch. For once, though, the confidence seemed to be your own doing.

Damien put down the cup in his hand and settled on the couch. You rested your feet on his thigh, and he placed a hand on your shin.

You’d always felt that any one-on-one time you got with him had a deadline, like you were on a time crunch based off of when the next video needed to be filmed or when your friends would join the conversation. It made the moments alone with him all the more enjoyable.

You liked being here, alone with him.

You liked it a lot.

“You wanna do something?” Damien leaned his head back on the couch, stretching his arms out beside him. You tried not to pay too much attention to the way the fabric of his t-shirt hugged his arms and the broad expanse of his chest.

“Like what?” You quirked a brow.

"Something low energy that makes us feel like we’re doing something…” He mulled over the possibilities, “Smash Bros?”

You nodded. “Wanna make it interesting?”

“I’m not putting money down.”

“Because you’re scared?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Scared you’ll lose. Wouldn’t wanna take a chunk out of your day rate.”

“You fucking wish,” you kicked at him gently. “I wasn’t thinking the gambling route.”

“So what were you thinking?”

“You ever played strip poker?”

Damien looked taken aback, and you regretted your proposal almost instantly. “Are you suggesting we play strip Smash?” He broke into a fit of laughter.

“We don’t—it was just a thought.” You tried to retract your suggestion.

“I didn’t say no.” He held your gaze, and you felt a tug in your stomach. “But if you get cold, tell me.”

“You say that like I’m going to lose.”

“Oh, is that what that sounded like?” He tossed you a controller, “Good. Cause that’s what I meant.”

You kicked at him again.

You lost your socks first. Then your shirt. You didn’t know whether or not to thank or chastise yourself for remembering to wear a bra. Your pants quickly followed, and though it was far from a matching set, you were relieved that your undergarments were at least presentable.

You were acutely aware of your own body now; the rise and fall of your chest and the way you moved your legs when you got caught up in the game. You didn’t notice Damien: how he bit the inside of his cheek so hard when you took off your shirt that he flinched; how he nearly lost his grip on the controller when your jeans came off; how he kept shifting in his seat.

You especially didn’t notice the way he looked at you. His eyes flicked over your face with a combination of pride and adoration, and they darkened significantly when his gaze dropped below your collar and took in your half-naked form.

“How far are you gonna take this?” Damien was grinning, his voice the only other sound against the backdrop of in-game blasts and the click of thumbs on controllers.

“Down to my skin.” You shot him a glance and he cleared his throat.

“Won’t be long, then.”

“Yeah?” You bumped your shoulder against his lightly.

“You’re oh-for-three.” He pointed out, and you pushed against him again, harder this time, in an attempt to throw him off his rhythm.

“Let me choose a different character.” You tried to reach for his hands to grab at the controller. He held it up and away from his body.

“I don’t think the character is the problem,” he laughed, face lighting up at the way you sneered in frustration. “I’m not pausing just so you can be Kirby.”

“Who said I wanted to be Kirby?” You chastised him.

“Did you want to be Kirby?” He looked smug when he turned to face you, his hands still out of reach. You realized how close you’d gotten to him over the course of your teasing exchange, and suddenly recognized that the opportunity Courtney had been alluding to was right in front of you.

You moved to straddle his waist, legs framing his body and tits inches from his face as you stretched out to grab his hands, removing the controller from his grasp. You tossed it to the side and Damien was frozen as you shifted to look behind you at the screen, your victory now swift thanks to the lack of any opponent.

You turned back to him with a smile. “Did you want to be Kirby,” you imitated him, echoing his taunt. “Lose the shirt, Dames.”

Damien looked up at you, frozen. The tension was almost visible, like fogged glass, and you had no idea how to clear the air. You were nearly certain that you had made a terrible mistake, that everything about tonight was about to go wrong.

You were unable to make eye contact with him—afraid that by looking at him you would completely fall apart and lose the edge you’d only just found. Throughout your mental battle with yourself, Damien still hadn't moved, his gaze fixed on your face.

You tried to make your fear dissipate by breaking the silence.

“What?” You laughed, a little awkwardly.

Damien swallowed. “I...sorry,” His eyes were wide as he spoke, “I just got…very nervous and—and really turned on.”

Oh.

He let out a small, huffed laugh, smiling up at you in a moment of awe. He blinked hard a few times before moving his arm to rest behind his head.

“That…that makes two of us, then,” you stayed where you were, placing your hands on your thighs. You licked your lips, exhaling, before finding the nerve to continue. “You still have to take your shirt off, though. You lost. Rules are rules.”

“Didn't you get to take your socks off first?” He narrowed his eyes playfully.

“You can take them off," your words were coy. "You want me to move?”

“I never said that.” He shook his head, leaning forward just enough to grant him the space to remove his t-shirt. He tossed it to the side, and you felt your whole body flood with nerves and anticipation when he leaned back against the couch on full display for you.

“Are you cold?” Damien brought his hand up to cup your elbow, and it was only then that you became aware of the goosebumps that had broken out over your flesh.

“No…No. Just…” You swallowed, moving slightly on his lap. “Just nervous.”

He let out a small laugh. “Do you—I mean…” He was entranced, unable to remove his eyes from your face for the fear that if he looked at any more of you, you’d be able to feel his reaction. You reached out to trace a hand over his chest, admiring him and letting the heat of his skin warm your palm. “Would you mind if…” He bit his lip, closing his eyes while your fingers grazed his flesh. He took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You stopped your hand, letting it linger on the center of his chest, just above his stomach. Damien gingerly placed a hand on your waist, and for just a moment you wondered if he could feel the desperation seeping through your skin.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can kiss me.” you nodded, maybe a little overzealous, “Please.”

You leaned forward into him. You could feel the weight of his hand on your body and the thrum of your own heartbeat in your chest as it threatened to break through your ribcage. You watched him suck in a sharp, deep breath before his other hand cupped your face. You closed your eyes, letting him guide you into the kiss.

It was tender. You moved slowly, in tandem with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself settle into him as you got lost in the way his mouth felt on yours. You let your lips part, making space for his tongue to dip between them and explore you further. You let out a quiet moan when he licked into you, and you let your own tongue delve beyond his lips to take a taste of what you’d been craving so urgently. His grip on your waist tightened in response to your sounds, and you took it upon yourself to test the waters, rolling your hips against him. You were rewarded with the feeling of his stiffening cock between your legs, and a gruff sound that caught in his throat. His hand moved from your face to the back of your head, applying light pressure to keep you steady as the kiss became hungrier, and he bit at your bottom lip.

When you parted, both of you pausing to catch your breath, he looked up at you, quietly chuckling to himself.

“What?” You let your hands wander over his shoulders, “Was it that bad?”

“What? No—god, no. No, I’ve just…I’ve always wanted to do that.” Damien smiled, moving his thumb in a soothing pattern over your hip, “I’ve always wanted to do that…” He trailed off, raking his eyes over you and letting both hands move up and down your sides.

“Really?” You posed the question with your eyes closed, lost in his touch. You let yourself fall forward on his chest.

“Really.” He sighed dreamily, “I can’t begin to explain to you how much space you take up in my head. The real thing is a lot better than the imaginary version.” 

“But you can do whatever you want in your imagination.” You pointed out, pressed against him and tracing lines over his collar with one finger.

“Yeah. Sure. But nothing I think up could ever beat this.” His fingers grazed the clasp of your bra, “And, full transparency, I’ve thought up a lot.”

You laughed, pushing yourself up with both hands on his chest to really look at him; his hair was messy, and his cheeks were flushed pink.

He looked flawless. You felt flawless.

“Damien,” your tone was saccharine, still tinged with a shy edge but steadily coming into your own with help from Damien’s clear reciprocation of your feelings, “Do you wanna show me all the thoughts you’ve had?” You watched his face go stern at your words, still hinting his amusement with a small, nearly hidden smile. “Do you wanna act on them?”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him; somehow the feeling of your tits pressed against his bare chest was almost more intimate than the kiss you’d just shared. You squealed, tossing your head back, which he took as an opportunity to leave dainty kisses on your throat, muttering against your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen my room.” His voice was gravelly, parched from the kisses he left on your skin as he picked you up. You gasped, suddenly off the ground and in his arms as he carried you down the hall; one of his hands trailed down your body, and you felt his fingers dig into the flesh of your upper thigh to keep his hold on you. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, letting him overwhelm your senses.

You got lost momentarily, like time had paused or sped up or stopped completely, but then you were in his room. The lights were dim, just as they were in the rest of the house, and the shelves stacked with various tchotchkes and books that you were too distracted to care about in the moment.

You realized that a person could look like their home, in a way, and you recalled the moment earlier in the evening when you had found yourself so attracted to how Damien carried himself in his own space. It’s because the space was just as welcoming, just as comforting and soothing as he was.

He let his grip on you loosen, and you landed on his bed, hands still wrapped around him and tentative of letting go. But you didn’t have to; he lay next to you, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him in a swift maneuver that placed you comfortably on his chest.

He didn’t kiss you, maybe out of anxiety that he was moving too fast for your taste, or just because he felt the moment didn’t call for it, but he brushed his nose against yours and let his hands linger on your waist.

“Is this what you thought about?” You whispered, letting him continue his quiet ministrations, “Taking me to bed and touching me like this?”

“And so much more,” he breathed, hands moving up your back, trying to commit your entire body to memory. “I hope you—I didn’t mean for it to come off like I’ve only ever thought about fucking you.”

You moved to rub your thumb over his cheek. “What did you mean?”

“That I don’t want you to be my friend,” he smiled, and your heart dropped for a second before he continued, “That I think about you all the time in ways that friends don’t think about each other. And I…” He searched for the right words, “Even after a night like this, even after, you know, seeing everybody and having everybody over—even when a place is full of people, and noise…You’re still the only person I can pay attention to. Or think about.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and he pulled away from you to meet your gaze.

“Does that sound really stupid?”

“No,” you reassured him, pulling him back towards you, “No, it’s…you put it into words, Damien.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I get it. I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe what you mean to me, and you just,” you laughed again, trying to collect yourself, “You did the work for me.” You smiled, tilting your head back with your chest still pressed against him, making sure he paid attention to what you were saying. “I love you.”

You watched his face change, something in his eyes and the curl of his lips looked different in a way you couldn’t pinpoint. You couldn’t look for long, because he was on you again in a flash, arms wrapping around you, engulfing you with his body and tugging you into him. His lips crashed against yours, and it was hungry, and messy, and passionate, so much so that you couldn’t be bothered to care about the clack of teeth or the small bead of spit that fell from the corner of your lip.

“I love you,” Damien’s voice sounded tight, higher than it had been all night, “I love you.” He freely explored your body now, big hands reaching over your ass and offering soft squeezes before grazing your sides and the swell of your breasts.

“You know how,” you managed to get a few words in between heated kisses, “you said you didn’t want it to come off as if you only wanted to fuck me?” You let out a small moan when he licked a stripe up your neck and to your earlobe, mumbling quiet curses to yourself at the feel of his tongue on your body.

“Mhm,” Damien acknowledged your words without breaking away from you, still nipping at your neck while you let your breathing mellow so that you could continue speaking.

“Want you to fuck me,” you put a hand in his hair, forming a fist in the silver strands and pulling him up to make eye contact. “Damien, I want you to fuck me.”

He looked almost surprised, like he had forgotten physical intimacy beyond kissing you was even an option. The look of mild shock was replaced with clear enthusiasm as he moved to get off of the bed. “I’d hate to make you ask twice.”

He shed his jeans, and you realized this was more of him than you had ever seen before; standing next to you was the man that took up all your thoughts, ready and willing to give you what you wanted, his eyes like pools of reverence as they trailed over your form.

You couldn’t help but feel excited, uncaring if you came off as desperate. You sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, situating yourself on your knees. Your hands found purchase on his chest and slowly moved down his stomach until you reached the waistband of his boxers.

“Eager,” he let your hands wander, watching on as you explored. You paused, looking up at him to wordlessly ask if you were allowed to go further. “Don’t be shy, baby,” something about his tone had changed, and the cheerful voice you’d come to know and love was replaced with a deeper, rasping sound that you thought you might like even more. “You can touch. Take what you need.”

The words reached your core before they fully hit your ears, and you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together to give yourself some relief. Sliding your hand under his waistband, you were met with the solid, smooth skin of his cock. He helped you pull his boxers down and over his length, letting it spring free, and you felt your mouth water.

He was big, thick, and while not surprising in the slightest, you couldn’t help but whine at the sight before you. You looked up at him, your hand wrapped around his cock, thumb brushing the reddened tip; you expected him to look smug, proud of himself, maybe, but he looked dumbstruck, in awe of the way your hand looked wrapped around him—in awe of the fact that it was you.

“Damien,” you prompted, and it broke him out of his haze. He nodded. “Can I…”

“Please,” he took a deep breath, “God, yes, please.”

You smiled. “Well, I’d hate to make you ask twice.” He laughed at your mimicry before quickly silencing himself with a shaky moan when you licked an experimental stripe up the bottom of his cock. He tilted his head to the side, unable to decide whether to get lost in the pleasure or to enjoy the view he had of you, bent over yourself on your knees and using your mouth in a way he’d only ever dreamed of.

You spit in your hand, gliding it over him and appreciating the way he felt in your hands; the warmth, the pliant weight. You made sure he was looking when you finally took his tip in your mouth, circling your tongue over him. You moved your hand in sync with the way you bobbed your head. He groaned, hand flying to rake his fingers through your hair, and the way he sighed out your name spurred you on more.

His other hand caressed your back, tugging cautiously at the straps of your bra.

“Take it off,” you pumped him in your hand, letting your tongue flick out to deliver barely-there licks to the tip of his cock. “Take it off for me.”

“Fuck.” He huffed, hypnotized by the way you used your mouth on him. He undid the clasp with one hand, and you let the straps hang off your body. You didn’t want to pause your movements, didn’t even want to slow down at the risk of having to go for even a second without hearing him moan your name; you shook the constricting material from yourself, taking him deeper in your mouth until tears pricked your eyes so that you could slip your bra off your arms. Damien let out a low groan, tightening the grip he still had on your hair. 

You took him deeper still, hand working what you couldn’t fit down your throat. When you gagged on him, he let out an absolutely filthy sound.

“You like that?” He was smiling with his mouth open, chest heaving with every breath, “You like choking on me?” You answered with a garbled “yes,” his cock still pressed against the back of your throat, one hand on his hip to keep yourself stable as your other hand stroked the base of him. He moaned. “You look so pretty. Always knew you’d look so good with my cock down your throat, baby.”

You couldn’t help the noise that you let out, something between a gasp and a moan that sent vibrations up Damien’s spine. You continued to move up and down over his cock before removing your mouth from him, spit dripping down your chin and a dopey smile on your lips.

Damien grabbed your face in one hand, fingers pressing hard against your cheeks as he pulled you up to his level. “You really are just so fucking perfect.” He kissed you, letting the drool that coated your chin drip onto his face. “Can I taste you? Can I taste how sweet you are?”

You nodded, the hand he still had on your face moving with you.

“Yeah? Say it.” He demanded, and you whimpered, enjoying the look of dominance on him.

“Want you to taste me, Damien.” When you spoke, his fingers pressed the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. “Want you to taste how sweet I am.”

He growled, moving his jaw in a circle as if to stretch the muscles in preparation for what he planned on doing to you. “How do you ask nicely?”

You felt an adrenaline rush deep in your stomach. It was one thing to be here with your pleasure in his hands, but to hear Damien say the things you’d fantasized about for so long made your head swim.

“Please…” One of your hands grabbed impatiently at his arm, “Please, Damien…want…want you to fuck me with your tongue. Please.”

He kissed you again, smiling against your mouth and removing his hand from your face to push softly against your chest so that you fell back onto the bed. He knelt on the mattress, holding your calves and pulling your legs open. You sank into the pillows at the head of the bed, letting them cradle and support you at an angle that allowed you to look down at Damien, whose face hovered over your core. His fingers danced over the waistband of your panties, and you wondered if he had felt the same tingly sensation when you toyed with his boxers as you did right now with his hands running over your hips and stomach.

He pressed his face against your clothed cunt, impatient and greedy for you. You moaned, one hand fisting the sheets under you while the other came to rest on your thigh, holding your legs open for him when your muscles threatened to snap them closed following the sudden contact.

“Fuck, Damien, that feels—that’s so good.” You squirmed under him as he licked over your panties, tongue brushing your clit through the fabric. You tried to push the material down, wiggling your hips to ease your panties off your body, but Damien caught your hands in his.

“Let me play, baby.” His doe eyes stared up at you from between your legs with a devious glint. You didn't listen, and instead continued to move your hips in an attempt to wriggle out of the fabric that kept his mouth from making direct contact with you. He pressed down on your hips, forcing you to cease your fidgeting. “Be patient.”

He licked a stripe from where your panties threatened to reveal your hole and up to your clit, and you arched your back in an attempt to encourage him further.

“God, Damien, please!” You pleaded, begging for him to touch you without the obstacle of the fabric that remained on your body. “Want it—said you wanted to taste me, you can taste me—you can taste me, I need it. Please, let me feel your tongue, please—”

Damien snapped your waistband and you yelped, effectively ending your rambling.

“You’re pretty when you beg," he kissed your stomach, and you let out a whimper. "But if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll fuck it.” Damien’s words weren’t harsh, you could hear the joviality buried under the severity in his voice, and somehow that made it even sexier.

Your arousal was heightened when, as you moaned at his words, you felt two thick fingers plunge into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, and you choked out his name.

“Oh my god!” You cried out, looking down to see that he had moved your panties to the side to give himself access to your entrance. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling to hit your more delicate spots, and the sound was utterly indecent.

“You’re soaked,” Damien was smiling with his top teeth, watching his fingers as they disappeared inside of you. “What got you so wet, baby?”

“Because…s’cause…” You didn’t have the energy to talk, too focused on the way his fingers pushed against the walls of your cunt, forcing your body to make space for him.

“Because why?” He goaded, thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pushed his fingers deeper, “Because you like the way I touch you? Hm? Because you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have? For as long as I have?”

You nodded, mouth agape and eyes threatening to roll back; maybe you looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, completely content with his fingers thrusting into you.

“Aw, come on. If you still want my mouth, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” He removed his fingers from inside of you, using the slick that coated them as lubricant to massage your clit.

“Wanted this for so long—so fucking long, Damien.” Your words came out rushed and breathy, “Thought about you like this all the time. Thought about—about you when I came, every time I came.” You couldn’t stop yourself from telling him the truth, the words tumbled from your lips as easily as taking a breath.

Your admission made him pause his movements, and for a moment the dominance in his face faded into something more tender. But he gathered himself, finally pulling off your panties in one fell swoop, then taking one of your legs and hooking your knee over his shoulder while you continued to babble to him.

“Keep talking, princess,” the nickname made you dizzy with desire, and you whined out for him, your eyes wide and watery when his breath fanned over your now bare, slick coated center. “Keep talking. Tell me all about it while I taste you.”

The first swipe of his tongue against your clit sent shockwaves through you, and you whimpered before recollecting your train of thought.

“Th—oh!” You quickly lost your words again when Damien began to ease his tongue into your entrance, toying with your hole before plunging into you with a purpose. He squeezed your thigh, and you took it as encouragement to continue. “Thought about this all the time—about your mouth against me. Using your mouth on me until my legs got sore from the way you’d hold me open.” He groaned against your cunt, and you extended a hand to comb your fingers through his hair. “Thought about all the ways you could use me. All the ways I would let you use me—fuck, like that, please!”

He had his face buried in you, your slick dripping down his chin and his nose pressed against your clit. You could feel the movement of his tongue inside of you, and you tugged on his hair as the sensation spread over your body.

“Thought about getting on my knees for you. I would let you have me whenever you wanted—wherever you wanted.”

Damien growled. “Yeah?” His brow quirked and he looked up at you momentarily before diving back into your heat, “Have to take you up on that.”

You whimpered, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen tensing from the onslaught of pleasure, and the feeling let you know that you were approaching your peak.

“Knew you would make me feel so amazing, Damien, knew you’d make me cum like nobody else ever could.” You were stringing words together faster than your brain could think them up. But even if they came out jumbled, every last word was true.

“Want you to cum on my mouth,” Damien was grinding his hips against the mattress, the relief he got from the fabric of the sheets dulled his intense arousal only momentarily, but he chased the feeling. “Please, baby, give it to me.”

You pulled his hair, admittedly harder than you had intended, but with the moan he let out, it seemed he didn’t mind. His tongue worked wonders as he extended it over and into you. Right when you thought you were already done for, limbs going slack and the pleasant tingle in your core reaching a fever pitch, Damien wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive bud.

It felt good to scream out for him, to let his name fall repeatedly from your lips as you yanked on his hair, but it felt better to hear his voice and the words that rang out from between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he was mumbling, still licking into you, trying to savor the tangy flavor of your cum. “So fucking beautiful, baby. Look at the pretty fucking mess you made. Did such a good job.”

You tugged again on his hair and he let you guide him up to face level. When he leaned in to kiss you, you opened your mouth instantly, and he slid his tongue between your lips. You sucked on it happily, eager to taste yourself on him, eager to experience everything you'd always imagined being able to do with him.

In turn, he held you close, so you wouldn’t slip away like you did when he woke up from his dreams.

You let the kiss linger, leisurely grasping at each other and appreciating the newfound lack of constraint. You curled yourself into him, lying on your side and tangling your legs with his in an effort to get as close to him as you could.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” Damien mumbled, lips grazing your pulse point, dipping down and sucking faint bruises onto your collar. “I want to see it again.”

“You can see it whenever you want,” you closed your eyes, relishing the gentle pressure he was putting on your skin so that the marks would form in small spots across your chest. You cupped his cheek in your hand, and he reluctantly stopped licking the bruises that had begun to pop up. Your thumb stroked the skin under his eye. “I want you to see it again now.”

Damien leaned into you, trailing kisses over your jaw. “You want me to fuck you?” He licked a stripe up your neck and over your chin. When his tongue reached your mouth, you opened for him, letting him lick between your lips, kissing him fervidly and moaning softly. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you? Want me to fuck you even though I just made you cum?" He growled into your mouth. "You need more already?"

“Yeah,” you smiled shyly, rubbing your face against the stubble on his cheek.

“Needy thing.” He removed his hands from you, then snaked his arms through the gap in your bodies and put his hands on your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress and onto your back.

He straddled your legs, keeping you immobile on the bed and kissing down your chest. He nipped at the plush flesh of your breasts, unable to contain himself, unable to hide the obvious pleasure he took in seeing you this way.

“Damien—” You sighed when he circled his tongue around one of your nipples, your fingers wrapping around his bicep.

“I know. I know. Sorry, I just—God, you’re beautiful.” He smiled, more to himself than to you, but the joy on his face was palpable, and you were sure he could detect the pride you felt at being the one to make him feel this way.

He used his knee to spread your legs, opening you up for him, moving his own legs to situate himself between your thighs. One of his hands ran up and down your leg as he stroked himself, lining his cock up with your entrance. When the tip of him rubbed between your folds, you whimpered, moving your hands down his arm and squeezing his forearm.

“Is this what you want?” Damien was looking down, examining how perfectly his body meshed with yours. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” your words were barely above a whisper, “Want you to fuck me.”

He moved his hand further up your body and squeezed your hip. “Where are your manners, princess?” He smirked, “Say please.”

“Please, Damien,” you stared up at him wide-eyed, captivated. “Please.”

“There you go.” He squeezed your hip again in recognition of your obedience. Slowly, as if he was worried he’d break you, he pushed into you, watching your eager, waiting cunt swallow every inch he offered you. You moaned, squeezing his arm and leaving small, curved marks where your nails dug into his skin. You watched his eyelids flutter, head tilting back with his mouth ajar, letting out a deep groan as he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again to meet your heavy-lidded gaze.

“Big.” It was all you said, stretched and full of him in a way nobody had ever filled you up before.

Damien swallowed a laugh, flashing a domineering smile. “Big?”

“Too big.” You clarified, not entirely meaning it; you were thrilled to be this packed with him, but it had been so long since you’d felt a satisfying sting like this that it would take you a moment to get accustomed to it.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can.” He pressed his palm over your stomach, brushing his thumb across your skin soothingly. “You tell me if it’s too much, ok? Use your words, say it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t want you to stop.” Your voice came out strong momentarily, so eager for him that the possibility of him leaving you empty made you tense. “Waited so long…” You said, mellowing slightly, “Want you. Want you to…to use me.”

Damien made a throaty noise, something between a laugh and a moan that both relaxed and lit a fire inside you. Unhurried, he pulled out of you, his hands on your hips to give himself proper leverage. You exhaled slowly, mind set adrift by the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls; his rounded tip, every vein that ran up his length—you were certain you could feel it all.

You whimpered when he had pulled out enough so that nothing but the head of his cock penetrated you. You swayed your hips, trying to spur him on, but even with just the tip you felt you had ample stimulation.

He didn’t stop you, just watched on as you tried to fuck yourself with the tip of his cock just barely inside of you.

“You need some help?” He raised an eyebrow at.

“Please—fuck me, please.” You nodded excitedly, aching for him.

He smiled, eyes fixed on your face as he rammed back into you, watching your mouth contort and your tits bounce as your body absorbed the force. You screamed out for him, arching your back, which gave him the ability to push the remainder of his cock as far into you as he could.

“Fuck Damien! So—feel…so full!” You felt a tear fall over your cheek, overwhelmed by the bliss of having his cock buried inside of you and the rough way in which he made it happen. He leaned over you, supporting himself on his forearms as he caged you between them, and met you at face level. He thrust in and out of you shallowly, bringing his lips to your cheek and kissing the path of the delighted tears you had shed.

“Yeah? Feel full?” He whispered, still moving his hips, his cheek pressed against yours so he could speak directly into your ear.

“Yes, Damien—God, yes!” You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to immerse yourself in all of him. You searched for any part of him that you could reach with your mouth, planting sloppy kisses on his collar, his shoulder, the crook of his neck.

“Good.” He kissed your cheek again, before licking the wet, salty trail that your tears had left behind. “Want you to feel me for days after this.” He found your lips and kissed you, the pace and intensity of his thrusts increasing. “And when you can finally walk straight, I’m gonna do it to you all over again.”

You scraped your nails up his back, moaning for him and desperate to have him follow through on his threat. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the tug of his stubble on your skin as he panted against you, fucking into you aggressively in a way you’d always dreamed he would.

Each thrust felt deeper, and there came a point where you felt a pleasant pain in your side as his cock brushed your cervix.

“Damien—Christ, you’re so fucking deep,” Your nails jabbed harder into the skin of his back and he let out a hiss. “Please, like that. Just like that, don’t stop. B-bruise me, please, please!”

“I won’t stop, princess,” Damien’s words were snarled, gruff in your ear as his lips grazed just below your earlobe. “I promise. Wanna leave this pretty pussy so nice and sore.” He sucked a mark under your jawline, "Wanna ruin you."

You moved one hand, fingers lacing through his silver hair and yanking at the brown roots to pull him from his spot in the crook of your neck. He took the hint, rising up to meet you, his mouth finding yours and biting at your bottom lip.

“I love you,” you couldn’t bite back the words, not even if you tried; not when his cock was hitting spots you didn’t even know were there, not when he was using all his upper body strength to stay above you just so he could gaze down upon your tear-streaked, fucked out face, not when it was something you’d been dying to tell him in this capacity for as long as you could remember. “I love you, Damien—I love you.”

“I love you,” he echoed your words, voice softening and face relaxing. “I love you so much. I do, I love you so much.”

You raised your hips to meet his thrusts, and Damien moaned out your name, muscle in his jaw tensing before he let his mouth fall slack. He paused momentarily, sitting up while still buried inside you, to take your legs in his hands and press your knees back to your chest. You were bent in half, completely at his mercy and loving it. You yelped, the new angle giving him the ability to drive harder and deeper into you; the control he had over your body made your head swim and your cunt squeeze around him. He leaned over you, smiling through the pleasure that clouded his mind to jeer at you affectionately as he continued to escalate the manner in which he fucked you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He watched you, your head lolling to the side and practically drooling as you looked back up at him, pitiful moans and gibberish the only way you could communicate. “Lose your voice?”

You swallowed hard, gasping for air and overcome with the feeling of him. You searched for the right words.

“Make me—oh!—feel so good,” you panted, “so fucking good.”

“Who makes you feel so good?” Damien pressed, plunging his cock as deep as he could, his hips firm against the back of your thighs.

“You do!” You felt all of him, and still, somehow, you craved more. “You do—you, you!”

“Yeah? Say it princess. Say Damien you make me feel so good.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to stare up at him with your lust-blown eyes. “Say it.”

“Da—Damien,” you whimpered as he fucked you in quick bursts while waiting for you to speak. “Damien, you—you make m-me feel so good.”

He pressed his lips to yours, further enhancing the way your body was already contorted, and you moaned into his mouth at the feeling of being used like a toy by him.

“That’s right,” Damien licked into your mouth, “You make me feel so good, princess.”

He pulled back from your face, straightening once more; he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders, gripping your thighs close to his body and using them to pull you onto his cock. The sounds you made were high pitched and pathetic, eyes rolling back while he placed kisses on your calves where they were slung over his shoulders; he nipped at you, teeth just barely grazing the flesh of your legs as his lips did a bulk of the work. The tickle of his five o’clock shadow was a welcome match to the gentle pressure you felt in your abdomen brought on by the way his cock stretched you.

He wrapped one arm around your legs, leaving you powerless to his movements as your head pushed back into the pillows from the sheer delight of feeling him inside of you, heightened by the depth and momentum with which he fucked you. He let his other hand drop to hold your hips, thumb caressing your skin with unidentifiable shapes.

You couldn’t remember getting fucked like this before—if you ever even had been fucked like this before. Somehow Damien knew you inside and out better than anybody else did, maybe even better than you knew yourself. This was proven by the way he drove his hips into you, hauling you over his cock and making you feel the delicious drag of his length in a way that made you feel full to the point of near discomfort. The electrified jolts of satisfaction when the tip of his cock pressed up against your more delicate, hidden spots, were eased by the soft way he touched you. The feeling wasn’t confined to your walls; his fingers brushed your clit, the ghost of a touch sending shockwaves through your system. You wriggled your body, unable to contain yourself and responding physically to the way his digits teased you while he ruined you with his cock.

He was rough, wild, and everything you needed. When you looked up at him, you could still see the kindness in his features, hear the compassion with which he moaned your name, feel the romantic way he squeezed at your body even while he was fucking you stupid. His groaned words of praise, of affirmation, when he managed to gasp your name between panting thrusts brought you to the edge just as much as his physical prowess did, and you let it be known how you were feeling.

“Damien—” You reached out, grasping at his arm where it wrapped around your legs, his other hand kneading your clit in slow circles. You felt your cunt tighten around him, walls fluttering in preparation for your oncoming orgasm, hips bucking on their own accord as you chased the ecstasy he brought you.

“Give me another, princess,” he grunted, pounding into you, his fingers deftly tracing over your clit. “Doing so good, give me one more.”

You turned your face to the side and buried it into the pillow under you, biting into the cloth to silence your increasingly loud screams. He reached down to grab your face, once again pushing your knees to your chest and earning a loud gasp of his name as you wiggled your hips against him, relishing the feel of his cock throbbing deep inside of you.

“Show me that pretty face,” he cooed, sweat lining his temples from exertion, “Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He pressed hard against your clit, and your body responded explosively; you screamed for him, reaching for his shoulders to pull him to your chest and kiss him as a warm feeling spread from your center and out to your limbs. You could feel it in your chest, the fulfillment traveling over every inch of your body, muscles responding in kind with small twitches as your cunt squeezed him tight.

Your legs squirmed free from underneath him, and you wrapped them around his waist, keeping him close to you while you rode out your high, circling your hips over his cock. He moaned into your mouth, the kiss devolving into a messy exchange of spit and sweat and teeth, lips chapped and swollen with passion. You bit his lip and he growled, leisurely swaying his hips and punctuating his thrusts with eager whines.

“Where,” he was breathing heavily, once again finding solace in the crook of your neck. “Where do you want it, baby. Tell me. Please.” He was practically whimpering, begging you for permission to finish by communicating where it was you wanted his cum.

“Inside,” you moaned, the aftershocks of your orgasm lulling you into a sleepy heap of oversensitivity and devotion.

Damien growled as he took in your request. “You’re—fucking christ, you’re sure?”

“Please,” it was all you could say, desperate to feel the culmination of his pleasure inside of you. “Pill. Need it, Damien. Cum inside me. Let me feel it, please.”

Damien groaned at your words, brow knit and mouth open. He sped up his pace, pushing himself up from you and supporting himself on his hands. You whined, content and aching for him.

“Fuck, I'm gonna fill this pussy up so deep.” Damien squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before opening them and looking down at you, “Fuck—gonna cum, baby, I'm—fuck!” His hips stuttered, and you wrapped your legs around him tighter, keeping him secure against you. He dropped down onto you, still providing shallow thrusts, though much gentler than before. “I love you,” he whispered, lips pressing against your neck as he engulfed you with his own body, cock spent and twitching inside of you, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated quietly, and when he kissed you, you could feel that he meant it; the words echoed in your mind as he eased his lips against yours, taking time now to really savor the way you moved against him and enjoy how perfectly you fit together.

You focused on catching your breath, and he removed himself from atop you as he collected himself. When he slipped his cock from you, you whimpered at the new emptiness, and he kissed your temple.

You both stayed there, lying in bed together while you came down from the high-energy tryst. You still couldn't remove yourselves from each other completely, limbs tangling together and hands gliding over sweaty skin as you appreciated the tranquility together.

“Do you want water?” He asked, nose rubbing against your cheek.

“Yeah,” you gulped a breath, “Yeah. Thanks.”

He got up on shaky legs and found a pair of sweatpants, walking to the kitchen only to return seconds later with a glass of water. His face was radiant and his cheeks dusted pink as he beamed at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you guzzled the cool liquid, mouth dry from the way he'd made you scream.

“Say—” Damien looked down at you, giddy, “Will you say it again?”

You smiled, tired eyes taking in his form. “Thank you, baby.”

He sat down next to you. The mattress shifted with his weight, and you inched yourself towards him.

“I like hearing you say it.” He seemed timid, like after all that had happened, he was still worried you’d reject him.

“I like saying it,” you nuzzled your face into his stomach, resting on his thigh. His hand came down to pet your hair, thumb occasionally brushing over your temple.

“Will you stay here tonight?” He asked, “Only if you want to, I mean—but, I’d like it if you did.” He laughed to himself, “And then, you know…if you wanted to stay every night—I’d like that, too.”

“Well, good, cause the U-Haul is on its way over.” You turned your head to look up at him from your spot on his leg.

“Wow, those guys work fast,” he smirked down at you. “And then, when you, uh—when you finish moving in…could I take you out on a real date?” His face looked so gentle, “You know, away from everybody we know. Just…just us?”

“I would like that.” You smiled, turning to place a kiss on his stomach. He examined your face, still stroking your hair.

“I’m sorry if anything I said was…if you think I was moving too fast—or if I said something you want to pretend I didn’t say yet. Or at all.” He winced, nervous.

“Damien,” you sat up, shuffling to kneel in front of him and cupping his cheek, “I love you. I don’t want to pretend you never said it.” You placed a kiss on his nose, and he tackled you back onto the mattress, kissing your face.

“Thank god,” he breathed a sigh of relief, “Because I don’t think I could ever take it back.”  

“You’ve said it before,” you laughed when his head dipped under your chin to suck new marks onto your neck to match the ones that he had made prior.

“I know,” he mumbled against your skin, “But it’s—this is different. I mean it…different…” He smiled, sharp teeth on display, and you laughed again, enamored.

“Good,” you played with the hair that curled against the back of his neck, “I mean it different, too.”

Damien pulled you against his chest and rolled over, leaving you to straddle his waist and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he sighed happily.

“I love you, too.” You left kisses on his collar bone before pressing your face against his neck.

~~~

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you awoke the next morning you momentarily feared that it had all been a dream; that you were back in your own bed, alone, hungover and suffering from the memories of some distant fantasy.

But you were still with Damien. His arm draped over your waist and his face pressed between your shoulder blades as he snored quietly.

You could get used to this.

You leaned back against him, eager to tell him that you loved him when he woke up.

The sun was just barely up, and the minuscule amount of light that made its way through the window illuminated tiny bits of dust that passed through the rays. Zelda had made her way into the room at some point in the night, and her soft purring sent tiny vibrations over the blanket, her body nestled into the curve of Damien’s knee behind you.

You stretched, aimlessly reaching out and inevitably grabbing hold of your phone. You dimmed the brightness, scrolling through notifications you had missed the night before; tagged pictures, drunken Instagram stories, a few Venmo requests and a few more Venmo payments.

Courtney had texted you only about 20 minutes before you had woken up.

Court: How was the rest of your night 👀

Court: Does Shayne owe me $10

Court: Or did you end up going home

You let out a silent laugh, rolling your eyes a little at the betting pool that seemed to have erupted over your love life. You twisted in bed, opening your camera and zooming in on Zelda where she sat comfortably against Damien’s knee, the backdrop of his bedroom on full display. You took a picture and sent it to Courtney with no explanation, amused by your own vague confirmation that you had spent the night with Damien—and planned to do it again. Often.

You put your phone down and it started to buzz on the nightstand, lighting up with Courtney's contact picture. You considered picking it up, but then Damien’s arm tightened around you, pulling you to him while his hand spread out over your ribcage just under your breast. He kissed your back, still half-asleep, before he resumed snoring.