They’ll Never Listen

YOU HAD A LONG DAY.

But 'a long day' would be an understatement. You felt like a chicken with its head cut off as you and the line producer had to readjust the budget again (for what it felt like for the millionth time) after an expensive light fell and broke. And one of the stunt cars hit the crane the camera was on, shattering the camera's sensor and rendering the hundred-thousand-plus camera useless (thank god you were insured, but it's still a pain in your ass to fill out the paperwork).

You rolled out your neck as you entered the dimly lit apartment. Your back and shoulders ached from being hunched over a laptop all day since you had stayed behind in the production office after they had wrapped early, after everything had gone wrong. Still, you stayed until mostly everything was sorted, and your line producer had practically forced you out of the building.

You put your keys on the hook near the door and kicked off your shoes with a soft sigh. You walked further into the apartment, hearing the TV playing softly before you deposited your bag on top of the bar in the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself as you turned to the living area to see Colt sprawled out on the couch with just some gray sweatpants on and no shirt on (you weren't complaining at the sight of a shirtless Colt whatsoever). His head was turned towards the TV, and you noticed that his eyes were narrowed at the screen.

You huffed a small laugh through your nose."Colt, honey, you're either mad at the TV or you're squinting because you can't see it."

Colt's eyes were immediately ripped away from the screen and landed on you. "Oh, you're back!" He sat up on the couch, pausing the movie, and scoffed a little. "And I wasn't, for the record, my eyes were resting. " He denied as he ran a hand through his already mussed-up hair.

"Mhm, suree." But you weren't convinced as you approached and went behind the couch. You noticed that Colt has been having issues with his vision, but he denies it whenever you bring up the possibility that he needs glasses.

You slung your arms around his shoulders from behind and gave him a kiss on the cheek, the scruff of his beard tickling your lips. Colt all but sank into your embrace, and his hand found yours that was resting on his chest.

"How's your back feeling?" You murmured as you traced small circles into his skin.

Colt had tried to come to set in the morning, but you noticed how stiff he was when the two of you woke up, and he could barely get out of bed when he attempted. So you forced him to stay home, let Dan know about Colt, and he called in a friend to take over Colt's stunts for the day.

Colt had been fussy about it, but relented when he saw your concerned face as he stubbornly tried to convince you that he was fine. You had helped him with some of his physical therapy before you left, but Colt waved you away since he didn't want you to be late for work.

"M'good." Colt sighed. He turned and kissed your cheek. "Feeling a whole lot better now that you're back."

You rolled your eyes but still smiled at Colt's cheesy words. "Good." You untangled yourself from Colt. "I'll join you in a bit, I'm going to shower and make some tea."

You stood up straighter, and Colt rose from the couch as you moved away from it. He was quick to round it, grab your wrist, and pull you into him. You had braced yourself with your hands against his chest, and his head dipped down to capture your lips in a kiss. Colt gently grabbed your wrists with his hands to keep you close.

"Missed you." He mumbled into your lips before he continued to kiss you softly, making your heart flare with warmth and fondness.

You pulled away from him. "Missed you too." You looked up at his half-lidded gaze as he smiled down at you softly. "But I gotta shower." You started to pull away, making Colt's grip on you slightly tighter as he pouted at you.

"One more." Colt's bottom lip jutted out slightly. You rolled your eyes at him.

You pressed a quick peck on his lips, which made Colt shake his head. You laughed at the petulant expression on his face. "You said one more!"

"It wasn't long enough." There was a slight whine in Colt's tone, which made you smile.

You pressed your lips against his softly, but Colt had other plans. He let go of one of your wrists to grab the back of your neck and deepened the kiss. The two of you couldn't help but smile into the kiss before Colt pulled away.

"Happy now?" You asked him with a quirk of your brow.

"Wait a sec." Colt pressed one last peck on your lips before a satisfied smile pulled at his lips. "Now I am. Go shower and I'll make your tea." He squeezed your wrist before letting it go.

"Thank you!" You said before the two of you split ways, you went down the hall towards the bathroom, and Colt went to the kitchen to start boiling the water for your tea.

Once you were all showered and dressed in one of Colt's shirts and some pajama shorts, you were sipping on your tea, cuddled up with Colt on the couch, and finishing the movie he was watching earlier. You placed your finished mug on the table before leaning back into Colt's arms. You glanced up at him and saw he was squinting at the screen.

"Babe."

Colt hummed and looked down at you. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't need glasses?" You asked gently.

Colt let out a tired groan and threw his head back. "I'll be right back." He muttered and got up from the couch.

You had furrowed brows as your eyes followed him until he disappeared into the bedroom. You twisted around and sat up on your knees, waiting for him to come back out. Another minute had passed, and you heard him moving throughout the room, so you sat down and grabbed your phone, scrolling on it as you waited. Then you heard his footsteps approach the couch and looked up at Colt, your mouth falling open slightly.

Colt was wearing glasses. You blinked once, then twice. You stared at him intently. Your brain was trying to process the fact that the silver wire-framed fit his face shape perfectly, and you wanted to lunge at him as a wave of desire washed over you, your eyes flicking all over his face as he sat back down next to you. He didn't know what to make of your lack of response.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I look like a dork," Colt muttered as he pointedly looked away from you. You made a noise of denial and dialed back your lust for a moment, seeing how he looked like he wanted to run away. You sat up and got closer to Colt, grabbing his chin and guiding his head to look at him.

"You don't." You reassured him before you moved to straddle him and cupped his cheeks. Colt's hands instinctively landed on your waist as he leaned back into the couch. "When did you get these?" You asked.

"At my last PT appointment, they wanted to do a whole physical, and I almost failed the eye test. So they sent me to the optometrist to get a prescription for the glasses." Colt breathed out before he slid his glasses off his face and placed them on top of his head.

"Why don't you ever wear them at home?" You asked as you scratched softly at the scruff that painted his cheeks and jaw.

Colt's eyes fluttered at the soothing sensation of your nails dragging across his jawline. But he sighed. "Because I prefer my contacts."

You noticed the new bottle of contact lens solution, but you figured Colt went out and bought it for you since you were running low. But now everything was adding up. You assumed he had just hidden the contacts and glasses.

"And I'd look exactly like Ry if I wore them." Colt muttered under his breath.

You didn't hear him. "Could you say that again?"

Colt let out a loud groan. "I don't wear them because then I'd look exactly like Ryland." He repeated with a small frown on his face.

You couldn't help but smirk at him. "Honey, even if you didn't have glasses, you already look like Ryland."

"Don't say that!" Colt shook his head furiously. "We do not look alike!" He insisted.

"Colt, you guys are literally identical twins; it's literally impossible for the two of you not to look the same." You deadpanned.

"I know, but still it's the principle of it." He grumbled before shoving his face into your neck. His response made you chuckle.

You plucked the glasses off the top of his head and coaxed Colt out of your neck and carefully placed them on the bridge of his nose, before kissing the tip of his nose. A small blush bloomed on his cheeks at the tender action, and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"These are meant for you to see, so please stop straining your eyes, okay?" You looked down at him with a reassuring look in your eyes.

Colt looked at you for a moment before nodding. "Fine. I will."

You smiled before kissing Colt. "If it makes you feel any better, you look really hot in these glasses." You mumbled against him.

Colt's grip on your waist tightened. "Really?" His voice got a tad deeper as he pulled away. "You like me in these glasses?" Colt's hands migrated down to your ass and gave it a playful squeeze.

"Mhm." You bit your bottom lip as your hands buried themselves in his hair.

"Wanna show me how much you like them?" A dangerous smirk on his face as he stood up from the couch, with you still in his arms, and led you to your shared bedroom.

Yeah, you liked them a whole lot more than Colt was expecting.

“Mouth open, pup,” Noah’s voice is so soft, even as he tugs on your collar to make you look at him. “Treat time.”

You open your mouth obediently, eyes fixed on his own lips as they curl into a pleased smirk.

“Good girl,” he plucks a treat from the little box beside him, placing it onto your tongue gently. “Stay.”

You shift your weight, mouth watering slightly, but not making any moves to close it.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Eat your treat, pretty.”

You chew with a pleased hum, a subtle strawberry flavour spreading across your tongue mixed with something else you can’t quite place. It’s almost earthy, barely there.

He cups your cheek affectionately, and you turn your head to nuzzle against his open palm. His hands smell of pine, plain soap and the inescapable tang of sweat.

He doesn’t flinch when he feels your tongue against his skin, shaking his head in amusement. “Silly girl. My hands can’t possibly taste better than your treat.”

You hum again in response, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent deeply. A torturous sight for a man so easily undone by you, trying hard to maintain the control you’ve handed over to him.

It is through sheer audacious willpower that he manages to overcome the urges to take you then and there, allowing you to curl up by his feet instead. He wants you to feel the effects of the treat before he is to do anything.

His cock twitches in his pants when you whine softly, your eyes finding him in confusion as you begin to feel hazy.

“What…?” You murmur, sitting up again.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, hand coming to cup your cheek again, thumb brushing over your spit-slicked bottom lip.

The confusion on your face should not be so beautiful, the way your brows furrow and your lips pucker softly. Nobody’s army could drag him away from you now, not when you’re so pliant and trusting.

You focus on the bulge in his pants like a bloodhound would zero in on a scent.

“That wasn’t a normal treat, was it.” It’s not a question. You know, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your head is fuzzy and all you can see is the outline of his cock through a fabric barrier.

“No, baby,” he lifts your chin up with the tip of his finger, leaning down to give you the ghost of a kiss that leaves you chasing for more when he pulls back.

Subconsciously, you know you should be more upset that he’s forced an edible into you, and a strong one considering the way your world is quickly narrowing down into you and him, everything else washing away in a heady wave of warmth.

“S’ beautiful like this,” he breathes. His free hand trails down to fiddle with his belt and zipper. “Want another treat? No surprises this time, pup.”

You nod and scramble to settle properly between his legs, clumsy, eager.

“Oh, so desperate to taste me, hm?”

You paw at his thighs in response, silently begging him to take the damn pants off. He chuckles and obliges, shimmying them down his legs along with his boxers until his cock springs out, hard and flushed.

You waste no time in leaning forward and taking the leaking tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it to clean up the slightly bitter liquid already coating your tastebuds.

He groans, one hand fisting into your hair immediately. “Fuuck, just like that. Good girl.”

You take him deeper, gagging as the thick head hits the back of your throat but not stopping. You’re determined to take it, always eager to please him.

His head tips back against the couch cushions, eyes screwing shut in bliss. “Keep going, that’s it, fuck-”

Humming around his length, you jerk off what you can’t fit in your mouth, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth.

He lets out another choked moan that turns into a hiss of overwhelmed pleasure, his cock twitching against your tongue.

“Shit, pup… g’na cum, keep going.”

It only takes a few more moments of your mouth on him before he’s spilling down your throat in hot, thick ropes that drip down your chin and paint your chest a pearly white.

You only let him go when you feel him softening in your mouth, twitching through the aftershocks. He stares down at you, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

“Was that nice, beautiful?” He rasps, watching the way you wipe your mouth.

“Mhmm,” you lean your cheek against his thigh. “My favourite.”

“Oh, puppy,” he chuckles. “I know.”

You sigh sleepily, licking your lips. You can feel yourself drifting off to somewhere even further as you stare up at him adoringly.

“Now, want me to take care of you?” He murmurs:

the man isn't completely inexperienced, but he certainly isn't used to having sex. he's only done it like once ever. so he probably needs guidance at first

but once he's got a solid grasp on the mechanics of it? ohhh BOY buckle in

he's not used to making decisions on his own so it's kind of a free-for-all. if you want to do it? sure, he will too! no kink is taboo for him because he has virtually No Idea what the social norms around sex are anyway

probably is very bad at communication at first. you have to drill the concept of consent into him several times before he gets comfortable enough to tell you when he wants to stop

the first time you guys have sex its literally insane to him. like for once he actually WANTS to do it and its amazing. he can't help but wonder how humans get literally anything done because they COULD be having awesome mind-blowing sex all the time!!

this does lead to him becoming a little sex-crazed for a while. wants to do it several times a day (and has the modified stamina to back it up). i'm talking when you wake up, before he goes to work, when he gets home, before you go to bed type shit.

he gets a little animalistic in bed i feel. because god it's the only time he feels completely and totally human. he's not a replicant, he's not an officer with a serial number, he's yours. and it makes him insane

probably quite noisy once he gets comfortable, low sounds deep in his chest

8.5 inches, keeps himself well-trimmed (like the rest of him)

his favorite thing in the world is getting head. i'm sorry. but it's one of the only times he can let himself be selfish. it's all for HIM

actually incredibly hygienic afterwards i can't lie (unless you convince him otherwise...cough cockwarming...)

Tiptoeing down the hallway to the bathroom, you glance across at his door. Not a peep. You’re quiet too – the last thing you want is to piss off your new roommate at just past midnight his first night in your apartment.

Something hard collides with your toes though, and you stumble, reaching for something – anything – to keep you from toppling unceremoniously onto the ground and waking him up with a loud, embarrassing bump right outside of his door.

Exhaling with relief at managing to keep yourself upright by grabbing his doorframe in the pitch dark, you glance down with a squint to see what you tripped over – a pair of bright pink high heeled shoes dropped in the middle of the corridor. Shoes you’ve never seen before in your life.

With wide eyes and burning cheeks, realisation hits you, with just a pinch of embarrassment sprinkled in as you hear faint but heavy breathing from the other side of the door.

You shove the shoes out of the way with your foot, rush to the bathroom and then right back to bed before accidentally coming face to face with Ken, or whoever he’s sharing his room with tonight, telling yourself that the uncomfortable clenching in your stomach is just uneasiness at a stranger being in the house and definitely not jealousy. Absolutely not.

Afterall, you barely know him, and he’s your roommate. You don’t have any desire to get mixed up in those kinds of complications. Plus you’d never set out any rules about house guests yet... that can be a conversation to worry about having tomorrow.

Flopping back into bed, you stare at your ceiling for at least an hour before drifting back off while your mind is in conflict.

The shoes are gone in the morning, and as you pass his room to leave, you hear Ken’s loud snores. The ones he’d warned you about when you interviewed him for the room. You’d told him you don’t mind, and actually find the sound of snoring kind of soothing. Ken had smiled.

Shaking your head at what a weird thing that probably was to say to a guy you’d be sharing your living space with in a very platonic way, you headed out for the day and planned to tackle the house guest topic later.

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‘How was your day? I can make you dinner? I’m actually not sure how to use that uh… hot metal box you put the food into, but…’

After greeting you like an excited puppy, Ken’s face changes quickly when he finally looks at you and sees the unimpressed expression pressing your lips tight together and pulling at your brow.

‘Ken, listen, we need to talk,’ you say carefully.

‘Oh? Okay. What do you wanna talk about? Did I… do something bad?’

You could swear there’s a hint of flirtiness in his voice but you shake it off, chastising yourself for framing what he said in a sexy way.

‘Well… kind of. No,’ you correct yourself quickly, ‘no, not really bad, but-’

‘Shall we sit down? This seems like one of those we need to talk talks, and I’ve noticed people usually sit down for those,’ Ken smiles, proud, as though he might have got something right.

‘Sure, Ken,’ you breathe, already exasperated. God. Did whoever he slept with last night get him into bed just to shut him up?

You can’t decide whether you hate his stupid, expectant smile or whether you want to kiss it off his face as you take a seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

‘Alright,’ you start, unable to look him in the eye, ‘I don’t mean to be nosy, but I know you had someone here last night. And that’s an okay thing in itself, but…’

‘Oh, I know what’s going on here,’ Ken interrupts, relaxing back on the little kitchen chair, his legs spread wide and his annoyingly perfect grin turning smug, ‘you don’t need to be jealous, baby. It was just a one time thing!’

Flustered, you take a steadying breath and prepare yourself to counter his unexpected yet bizarrely astute point.

It isn’t jealousy, you remind yourself, it absolutely is not.

‘No, Ken, I’m not jealous. It’s just that the one time thing you mentioned? That’s not really the etiquette on your first night as someone’s new roommate. I want this to be your home too, but I barely know you yet, I don’t want some random stranger in my apartment. At least let me get used to you being around before you invite one night stands over… does that seem fair?’

‘Oh.’ You’ve stumped him. He straightens, lacing his fingers together on the table top, deep in thought. ‘So I can’t have friends over to kiss with until you know me better?’

‘Friends? I thought it was a– hang on, what do you mean kiss?’

There’s so much to unpack from that one short question, you almost forget the reason you’ve started this conversation at all.

‘I mean I had a one night stand?’ Ken huffs a disbelieving laugh and your blood boils for a moment. ‘But, if that’s not the done thing when we don’t know each other well enough yet,’ he shrugs, it’s obnoxious, ‘tt’s cool, I get it.’

You heave a sigh of relief. That was easier (and only a little weirder) than you’d expected it to go. But the main thing was he wasn’t going to bring strangers into your home, at least for now.

‘Good. Alright. Well, why don’t we grab din- mmh-’

Ken all but throws the table separating you clattering to the floor as he lunges forward, pressing his lips to yours so aggressively your chair nearly tips backwards as you try to push him off.

‘Ken- K- please, Ken- KEN!’

You manage to prize him off you long enough to stand up, but before you can ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, he backs you against the wall, trapping you with one arm around your waist and the other pressed to the wall beside your head, your chest flush with his.

‘What’s wrong, baby? I thought you wanted to get to know me?’

‘Not like that!’ you protest, finding it harder by the second to deny the heat pooling in your core.

But it’s wrong, you know it is. You can’t date your roommate – or worse, sleep with them once and then go on pretending like nothing happened.

‘Ken,’ you breathe to keep from raising your voice any further, ‘you were with someone less than twenty four hours ago, in my apartment, and now you’re doing-’ you wave a hand vaguely toward him in the small space you have, ‘whatever the hell this is?’ 

‘Yeah, and you want it, don’t you?’

He leans in, impossibly close now.

You feel your cheeks flush. ‘No. Ken, I… I think I’m going to have to ask you to find somewhere else to live. I don’t think this is going to wor-’

He silences you again with another bruising kiss. You mumble fruitlessly against his hot, wet lips, trying to escape, but he crowds somehow closer and you can’t get away. Your clamouring fingers find his biceps. They’re huge, bulging, and you know you won’t get past. He’s stronger than even he realises.

You whine, desperate. But for what?

The hand at your back slides around your waist, fingers plunging into the front of your jeans and you mumble a weak, ‘No,’ against his lips.

‘Can’t hear you over how hard my dick is,’ Ken mutters back, and you don’t even recognise how nonsensical that sentence is because his fingers push lower, sliding through your folds. You can feel how wet you are against them and blush; you wish the ground would swallow you whole, because you do actually want this, it feels far too good, but you don’t want to want it.

‘See? You’re dripping.’ Ken’s voice is low, sinister even, and it sends a jolt of excitement straight to where his finger is circling your slick bundle of nerves.

Jesus, Ken found the clit? You shake your head, trying to focus.

‘You know,’ he drawls, watching your face uncomfortably close, ‘one night stands aren’t enough for me. I like this far better.’

‘W-what is this?’ you manage, chest heaving as you try desperately not to satisfy him with a moan.

‘Well kissing is great but…’ his middle finger slips inside, fucking you excruciatingly slowly, ‘I much prefer this, don’t you?’

‘Mmhm,’ you nod, against your better judgement, immediately regretting your agreement, your mind clouded with unwelcome pleasure as you fight to find some clarity and challenge him. ‘Wait- wait, Ken, what do you m-mean- kissing? One night… ohhh-’

‘Never had a one night stand, baby?’ he drawls. ‘Well, you find someone you think might be impressed by your good looks, bring them home, kiss and go to sleep. It’s kind of magical, but it can be lonely.’

Fuck, he was unreal. How was it that this guy could be so aggressive, so forthcoming, so fucking creepy, but so dumb? How could he think kissing is a one night stand but finger you like a pornstar?

‘No- no, Ken, you don’t just kiss- mmh… nevermind…’

Your eyes close, your head drops back and you finally let yourself moan at how good it feels. You’re completely giving yourself to him, the roommate problem suddenly seeming small and far away. 

You’d asked him to move out anyway, and now he’s finger fucking you against the wall… it couldn’t really get any more messy than this, so whats the point of stopping now?

Ken slips his hand out of your jeans then and he steps back, satisfied with himself as he slowly sucks his fingers clean, humming at the taste of you. His other hand slides over the very prominent bulge in his jeans and you watch his cheeks flush as he huffs out a quiet moan, winks at you and disappears into his room leaving you panting and frustrated. And confused. Very confused.

You wonder all night what on Earth you’re going to do about him, but the answer comes to you like a lightbulb clicking on when your eyes blink open in the morning. 

You don’t see Ken around your apartment before you leave for the day, but getting home in the late afternoon, you find Ken shirtless in the kitchen, enjoying a tall stack of pancakes. You wonder if this is his breakfast but you don’t bother asking.

‘Back for more?’ Ken smirks.

‘I’ve already eaten, thanks. I’ll grab something later,’ you answer absentmindedly as you take off your shoes.

Ken furrows his brow and looks down at the plate in his hand and then back at you. ‘I meant more of this-’ he slides his middle finger between his lips, dragging it slowly in and out before winking at you.

God. If this were any other guy, you’d be rolling your eyes and gagging at the sight. But there’s something about Ken that just… isn’t the same.

‘Well, I did want to talk to you about that, actually,’ you say, trying not to look at his stupid, handsome face or his elegant, precise fingers.

‘You sure like to talk a lot, don’t you?’ he smiles, tilting his head.

That’s rich, you think, but you bite your tongue and join him in the kitchen, perching against the counter and ensuring plenty of distance between you. For him or for yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

‘Ken, what happened last night?’ you ask gently.

His face scrunches in confusion.

‘I mean… what were you doing?’ you try.

‘I was fingering you.’

‘No, I mean, why were you… fingering me?’ The words taste bitter in your mouth.

‘I was being a good boyfriend,’ he says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

It takes you a moment to process. ‘Ken, you’re not- we’re not-’

‘It’s okay,’ he soothes, ‘I’ve stopped having one night stands. It’s just you and me now.’ He shrugs his shoulders happily and takes a thick bite of pancake from his fork. ‘These are really good, are you sure you don’t want some?’

Alright, not where I thought this would go, you think, trying to reconfigure and ignoring his offer both at once.

‘I think you have some confused ideas about us, and about relationships generally.’ You’re cautious, speaking slowly in case something triggers him to lunge on you again.

‘Oh? Like what?’ he says, muffled through a mouthful. ‘Was I doing the fingering wrong? I watched some really hot videos about it and-’

‘No, Ken. Listen. Well, we’re not exclusive just because you… uh- put your finger in me.’

‘Exclusive?’

‘We’re not even an item, Ken!’ you start to lose your cool and close your eyes to breathe through it, forcing yourself to lower your voice. ‘Whatever you think is going on between us, it’s not. Okay? You can go back to your one night stands or whatever, and I’ll go back to not being half-finger fucked by my roommate.’ 

You push yourself up from the counter, ready to leave.

‘Half? But you moaned?’

‘Ken have you ever actually had sex?’ you blurt out before you can stop yourself. ‘Wait- I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer that.’

Ken just looks at you blankly. Surely he can’t actually be this dumb?

‘You made me come pretty hard last night if that counts. I could hear you though the wall. What was that buzzing sound by the way, is there something wrong with the electrics?’

Heat floods your cheeks. Jesus, this just keeps getting worse with every awkward word.

You’re not sure where to look, so you just stare at the ground as you answer, ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with the electrics, don’t worry about it,’ and grab a pancake off his plate to disappear into your room where you plan to stay until you really need to come out.

You spend a couple of hours on your bed, watching your favorite show and scrolling on your phone to reset, and things start to feel a little clearer. You venture out of your room with a resolve to sort this out once and for all.

‘Ken, I hate to say it, but-’

‘We need to talk?’ 

He’s laid out on the sofa and doesn’t turn to face you as he cuts you off.

‘Yeah,’ you huff, ‘listen, I’ve been thinking and you don’t need to move out.’

Ken sits up then, turning to look at you. ‘Oh, you were serious about that?’

‘Well… yeah, kinda. And having your hand down my pants after I said it was kind of a shock. It didn’t really help where my mind was at.’

He nods, deep in thought, and you take a seat on the chair beside the sofa. You have his full attention now, the living room TV fading into the background.

‘I think there was some confusion about what exactly our arrangement is, so I wanted to clear it. We’re just roommates, okay? You’re very uh-’ you falter, unsure whether to say it for a moment, ‘very attractive, Ken, but we can’t cross that line again, or things can get awkward.’

‘Alright, so what you’re saying is, you don’t want me to put my finger in you and make you moan. But the fingering was-’

‘It felt very good, Ken, but yes, exactly,’ you breathe, relieved. Maybe he really is just that stupid and you needed to help him understand the boundary.

‘So that means I’m not your boyfriend?’

‘No, you’re not. We can be friends, but nothing more than that okay?’

Ken just nods again, processing, then, ‘Can I still jerk off?’

You don’t quite know where to look, and your cheeks prickle with heat. ‘Yeah. Sure. Just not where I can see you?’

‘Deal.’ He grins broadly, winks and turns back to his Netflix show.

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The coming days are quiet. Ken keeps to himself mostly, not wanting to overstep after your last chat. Something in him wants to prove to you that he can be good at living in your Real World Dreamhouse.

He made you breakfast, kept himself quiet around the house, always let you use the shower first, didn’t hog the TV, cleaned up his own mess, left a light on for you if you were late home — he made sure he was the model roommate. 

And it seems to be working. Ken can sense you warming to him now. He thinks that maybe you’re coming around to knowing he understands how this all works. And he’s sure he does.

He starts to feel like he’s missing you though, an ache spreading in his chest when you’re out of the house during the day and then longing hopelessly for you when you spend the night alone in your room right on the other side of his wall instead of with him.

You seem to be wedging some distance between yourself and him despite his best efforts. While he understood what you’d told him – roommates only, nothing more than friendship – he feels a pull to be around you a lot more than this. There’s a sadness in his chest when he wonders if this is what it would have been like if Barbie had let him live with her in her Dreamhouse. It’s so lonely.

So he starts to listen out for you, get to know your movements around the house and the precise timings of your comings and goings, sending you texts about mundane things like groceries or dinner to get a handle on where you are when you’re out, until after only a couple more days, he knows exactly where you’ll be at any time of the day or night.

You make it easy for him sometimes, casually telling him where you’re going and how long you’ll be each time you leave, then regaling him with tales of who you saw and what you did when you return. 

He’s really started to build up a picture of all the areas of your life he doesn’t have access to. Yet.

Then, when he knows your patterns well enough, he starts to just watch you. It’s small things at first, like keeping his eyes on you pottering in the kitchen while he pretends to watch TV on the sofa, or vice versa. Leaning to see you through a doorway here and there. Listening outside the bathroom while you shower with his eyes closed and a hand pressed to the door longingly.

But he still feels like there’s something missing. He wants to get to know you intimately. Maybe it takes time to make friends in the Real World, and he seriously gets the impression he might have put himself at a disadvantage with you after his first couple of nights here. He can’t imagine why.

Maybe he just needs to try harder somehow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Masterlist of all chapters

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the set up, there is so much to come from this unsettling doll man.

Tiptoeing down the hallway to the bathroom, you glance across at his door. Not a peep. You’re quiet too – the last thing you want is to piss off your new roommate at just past midnight his first night in your apartment.

Something hard collides with your toes though, and you stumble, reaching for something – anything – to keep you from toppling unceremoniously onto the ground and waking him up with a loud, embarrassing bump right outside of his door.

Exhaling with relief at managing to keep yourself upright by grabbing his doorframe in the pitch dark, you glance down with a squint to see what you tripped over – a pair of bright pink high heeled shoes dropped in the middle of the corridor. Shoes you’ve never seen before in your life.

With wide eyes and burning cheeks, realisation hits you, with just a pinch of embarrassment sprinkled in as you hear faint but heavy breathing from the other side of the door.

You shove the shoes out of the way with your foot, rush to the bathroom and then right back to bed before accidentally coming face to face with Ken, or whoever he’s sharing his room with tonight, telling yourself that the uncomfortable clenching in your stomach is just uneasiness at a stranger being in the house and definitely not jealousy. Absolutely not.

Afterall, you barely know him, and he’s your roommate. You don’t have any desire to get mixed up in those kinds of complications. Plus you’d never set out any rules about house guests yet... that can be a conversation to worry about having tomorrow.

Flopping back into bed, you stare at your ceiling for at least an hour before drifting back off while your mind is in conflict.

The shoes are gone in the morning, and as you pass his room to leave, you hear Ken’s loud snores. The ones he’d warned you about when you interviewed him for the room. You’d told him you don’t mind, and actually find the sound of snoring kind of soothing. Ken had smiled.

Shaking your head at what a weird thing that probably was to say to a guy you’d be sharing your living space with in a very platonic way, you headed out for the day and planned to tackle the house guest topic later.

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‘How was your day? I can make you dinner? I’m actually not sure how to use that uh… hot metal box you put the food into, but…’

After greeting you like an excited puppy, Ken’s face changes quickly when he finally looks at you and sees the unimpressed expression pressing your lips tight together and pulling at your brow.

‘Ken, listen, we need to talk,’ you say carefully.

‘Oh? Okay. What do you wanna talk about? Did I… do something bad?’

You could swear there’s a hint of flirtiness in his voice but you shake it off, chastising yourself for framing what he said in a sexy way.

‘Well… kind of. No,’ you correct yourself quickly, ‘no, not really bad, but-’

‘Shall we sit down? This seems like one of those we need to talk talks, and I’ve noticed people usually sit down for those,’ Ken smiles, proud, as though he might have got something right.

‘Sure, Ken,’ you breathe, already exasperated. God. Did whoever he slept with last night get him into bed just to shut him up?

You can’t decide whether you hate his stupid, expectant smile or whether you want to kiss it off his face as you take a seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

‘Alright,’ you start, unable to look him in the eye, ‘I don’t mean to be nosy, but I know you had someone here last night. And that’s an okay thing in itself, but…’

‘Oh, I know what’s going on here,’ Ken interrupts, relaxing back on the little kitchen chair, his legs spread wide and his annoyingly perfect grin turning smug, ‘you don’t need to be jealous, baby. It was just a one time thing!’

Flustered, you take a steadying breath and prepare yourself to counter his unexpected yet bizarrely astute point.

It isn’t jealousy, you remind yourself, it absolutely is not.

‘No, Ken, I’m not jealous. It’s just that the one time thing you mentioned? That’s not really the etiquette on your first night as someone’s new roommate. I want this to be your home too, but I barely know you yet, I don’t want some random stranger in my apartment. At least let me get used to you being around before you invite one night stands over… does that seem fair?’

‘Oh.’ You’ve stumped him. He straightens, lacing his fingers together on the table top, deep in thought. ‘So I can’t have friends over to kiss with until you know me better?’

‘Friends? I thought it was a– hang on, what do you mean kiss?’

There’s so much to unpack from that one short question, you almost forget the reason you’ve started this conversation at all.

‘I mean I had a one night stand?’ Ken huffs a disbelieving laugh and your blood boils for a moment. ‘But, if that’s not the done thing when we don’t know each other well enough yet,’ he shrugs, it’s obnoxious, ‘tt’s cool, I get it.’

You heave a sigh of relief. That was easier (and only a little weirder) than you’d expected it to go. But the main thing was he wasn’t going to bring strangers into your home, at least for now.

‘Good. Alright. Well, why don’t we grab din- mmh-’

Ken all but throws the table separating you clattering to the floor as he lunges forward, pressing his lips to yours so aggressively your chair nearly tips backwards as you try to push him off.

‘Ken- K- please, Ken- KEN!’

You manage to prize him off you long enough to stand up, but before you can ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, he backs you against the wall, trapping you with one arm around your waist and the other pressed to the wall beside your head, your chest flush with his.

‘What’s wrong, baby? I thought you wanted to get to know me?’

‘Not like that!’ you protest, finding it harder by the second to deny the heat pooling in your core.

But it’s wrong, you know it is. You can’t date your roommate – or worse, sleep with them once and then go on pretending like nothing happened.

‘Ken,’ you breathe to keep from raising your voice any further, ‘you were with someone less than twenty four hours ago, in my apartment, and now you’re doing-’ you wave a hand vaguely toward him in the small space you have, ‘whatever the hell this is?’ 

‘Yeah, and you want it, don’t you?’

He leans in, impossibly close now.

You feel your cheeks flush. ‘No. Ken, I… I think I’m going to have to ask you to find somewhere else to live. I don’t think this is going to wor-’

He silences you again with another bruising kiss. You mumble fruitlessly against his hot, wet lips, trying to escape, but he crowds somehow closer and you can’t get away. Your clamouring fingers find his biceps. They’re huge, bulging, and you know you won’t get past. He’s stronger than even he realises.

You whine, desperate. But for what?

The hand at your back slides around your waist, fingers plunging into the front of your jeans and you mumble a weak, ‘No,’ against his lips.

‘Can’t hear you over how hard my dick is,’ Ken mutters back, and you don’t even recognise how nonsensical that sentence is because his fingers push lower, sliding through your folds. You can feel how wet you are against them and blush; you wish the ground would swallow you whole, because you do actually want this, it feels far too good, but you don’t want to want it.

‘See? You’re dripping.’ Ken’s voice is low, sinister even, and it sends a jolt of excitement straight to where his finger is circling your slick bundle of nerves.

Jesus, Ken found the clit? You shake your head, trying to focus.

‘You know,’ he drawls, watching your face uncomfortably close, ‘one night stands aren’t enough for me. I like this far better.’

‘W-what is this?’ you manage, chest heaving as you try desperately not to satisfy him with a moan.

‘Well kissing is great but…’ his middle finger slips inside, fucking you excruciatingly slowly, ‘I much prefer this, don’t you?’

‘Mmhm,’ you nod, against your better judgement, immediately regretting your agreement, your mind clouded with unwelcome pleasure as you fight to find some clarity and challenge him. ‘Wait- wait, Ken, what do you m-mean- kissing? One night… ohhh-’

‘Never had a one night stand, baby?’ he drawls. ‘Well, you find someone you think might be impressed by your good looks, bring them home, kiss and go to sleep. It’s kind of magical, but it can be lonely.’

Fuck, he was unreal. How was it that this guy could be so aggressive, so forthcoming, so fucking creepy, but so dumb? How could he think kissing is a one night stand but finger you like a pornstar?

‘No- no, Ken, you don’t just kiss- mmh… nevermind…’

Your eyes close, your head drops back and you finally let yourself moan at how good it feels. You’re completely giving yourself to him, the roommate problem suddenly seeming small and far away. 

You’d asked him to move out anyway, and now he’s finger fucking you against the wall… it couldn’t really get any more messy than this, so whats the point of stopping now?

Ken slips his hand out of your jeans then and he steps back, satisfied with himself as he slowly sucks his fingers clean, humming at the taste of you. His other hand slides over the very prominent bulge in his jeans and you watch his cheeks flush as he huffs out a quiet moan, winks at you and disappears into his room leaving you panting and frustrated. And confused. Very confused.

You wonder all night what on Earth you’re going to do about him, but the answer comes to you like a lightbulb clicking on when your eyes blink open in the morning. 

You don’t see Ken around your apartment before you leave for the day, but getting home in the late afternoon, you find Ken shirtless in the kitchen, enjoying a tall stack of pancakes. You wonder if this is his breakfast but you don’t bother asking.

‘Back for more?’ Ken smirks.

‘I’ve already eaten, thanks. I’ll grab something later,’ you answer absentmindedly as you take off your shoes.

Ken furrows his brow and looks down at the plate in his hand and then back at you. ‘I meant more of this-’ he slides his middle finger between his lips, dragging it slowly in and out before winking at you.

God. If this were any other guy, you’d be rolling your eyes and gagging at the sight. But there’s something about Ken that just… isn’t the same.

‘Well, I did want to talk to you about that, actually,’ you say, trying not to look at his stupid, handsome face or his elegant, precise fingers.

‘You sure like to talk a lot, don’t you?’ he smiles, tilting his head.

That’s rich, you think, but you bite your tongue and join him in the kitchen, perching against the counter and ensuring plenty of distance between you. For him or for yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

‘Ken, what happened last night?’ you ask gently.

His face scrunches in confusion.

‘I mean… what were you doing?’ you try.

‘I was fingering you.’

‘No, I mean, why were you… fingering me?’ The words taste bitter in your mouth.

‘I was being a good boyfriend,’ he says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

It takes you a moment to process. ‘Ken, you’re not- we’re not-’

‘It’s okay,’ he soothes, ‘I’ve stopped having one night stands. It’s just you and me now.’ He shrugs his shoulders happily and takes a thick bite of pancake from his fork. ‘These are really good, are you sure you don’t want some?’

Alright, not where I thought this would go, you think, trying to reconfigure and ignoring his offer both at once.

‘I think you have some confused ideas about us, and about relationships generally.’ You’re cautious, speaking slowly in case something triggers him to lunge on you again.

‘Oh? Like what?’ he says, muffled through a mouthful. ‘Was I doing the fingering wrong? I watched some really hot videos about it and-’

‘No, Ken. Listen. Well, we’re not exclusive just because you… uh- put your finger in me.’

‘Exclusive?’

‘We’re not even an item, Ken!’ you start to lose your cool and close your eyes to breathe through it, forcing yourself to lower your voice. ‘Whatever you think is going on between us, it’s not. Okay? You can go back to your one night stands or whatever, and I’ll go back to not being half-finger fucked by my roommate.’ 

You push yourself up from the counter, ready to leave.

‘Half? But you moaned?’

‘Ken have you ever actually had sex?’ you blurt out before you can stop yourself. ‘Wait- I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer that.’

Ken just looks at you blankly. Surely he can’t actually be this dumb?

‘You made me come pretty hard last night if that counts. I could hear you though the wall. What was that buzzing sound by the way, is there something wrong with the electrics?’

Heat floods your cheeks. Jesus, this just keeps getting worse with every awkward word.

You’re not sure where to look, so you just stare at the ground as you answer, ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with the electrics, don’t worry about it,’ and grab a pancake off his plate to disappear into your room where you plan to stay until you really need to come out.

You spend a couple of hours on your bed, watching your favorite show and scrolling on your phone to reset, and things start to feel a little clearer. You venture out of your room with a resolve to sort this out once and for all.

‘Ken, I hate to say it, but-’

‘We need to talk?’ 

He’s laid out on the sofa and doesn’t turn to face you as he cuts you off.

‘Yeah,’ you huff, ‘listen, I’ve been thinking and you don’t need to move out.’

Ken sits up then, turning to look at you. ‘Oh, you were serious about that?’

‘Well… yeah, kinda. And having your hand down my pants after I said it was kind of a shock. It didn’t really help where my mind was at.’

He nods, deep in thought, and you take a seat on the chair beside the sofa. You have his full attention now, the living room TV fading into the background.

‘I think there was some confusion about what exactly our arrangement is, so I wanted to clear it. We’re just roommates, okay? You’re very uh-’ you falter, unsure whether to say it for a moment, ‘very attractive, Ken, but we can’t cross that line again, or things can get awkward.’

‘Alright, so what you’re saying is, you don’t want me to put my finger in you and make you moan. But the fingering was-’

‘It felt very good, Ken, but yes, exactly,’ you breathe, relieved. Maybe he really is just that stupid and you needed to help him understand the boundary.

‘So that means I’m not your boyfriend?’

‘No, you’re not. We can be friends, but nothing more than that okay?’

Ken just nods again, processing, then, ‘Can I still jerk off?’

You don’t quite know where to look, and your cheeks prickle with heat. ‘Yeah. Sure. Just not where I can see you?’

‘Deal.’ He grins broadly, winks and turns back to his Netflix show.

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The coming days are quiet. Ken keeps to himself mostly, not wanting to overstep after your last chat. Something in him wants to prove to you that he can be good at living in your Real World Dreamhouse.

He made you breakfast, kept himself quiet around the house, always let you use the shower first, didn’t hog the TV, cleaned up his own mess, left a light on for you if you were late home — he made sure he was the model roommate. 

And it seems to be working. Ken can sense you warming to him now. He thinks that maybe you’re coming around to knowing he understands how this all works. And he’s sure he does.

He starts to feel like he’s missing you though, an ache spreading in his chest when you’re out of the house during the day and then longing hopelessly for you when you spend the night alone in your room right on the other side of his wall instead of with him.

You seem to be wedging some distance between yourself and him despite his best efforts. While he understood what you’d told him – roommates only, nothing more than friendship – he feels a pull to be around you a lot more than this. There’s a sadness in his chest when he wonders if this is what it would have been like if Barbie had let him live with her in her Dreamhouse. It’s so lonely.

So he starts to listen out for you, get to know your movements around the house and the precise timings of your comings and goings, sending you texts about mundane things like groceries or dinner to get a handle on where you are when you’re out, until after only a couple more days, he knows exactly where you’ll be at any time of the day or night.

You make it easy for him sometimes, casually telling him where you’re going and how long you’ll be each time you leave, then regaling him with tales of who you saw and what you did when you return. 

He’s really started to build up a picture of all the areas of your life he doesn’t have access to. Yet.

Then, when he knows your patterns well enough, he starts to just watch you. It’s small things at first, like keeping his eyes on you pottering in the kitchen while he pretends to watch TV on the sofa, or vice versa. Leaning to see you through a doorway here and there. Listening outside the bathroom while you shower with his eyes closed and a hand pressed to the door longingly.

But he still feels like there’s something missing. He wants to get to know you intimately. Maybe it takes time to make friends in the Real World, and he seriously gets the impression he might have put himself at a disadvantage with you after his first couple of nights here. He can’t imagine why.

Maybe he just needs to try harder somehow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Masterlist of all chapters

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the set up, there is so much to come from this unsettling doll man.

There are two things about Sebastian Wilder that a person needs to know.

First thing: He's extremely needy in bed.

He tries very hard to pretend otherwise. Nice clothes, fancy cologne, acting like he's on top of the world when flirting with you. God forbid you get him alone though, in his car or in his shitty little apartment, because the bravado completely falls apart. Panting and breathless while kissing you, groping every inch of skin he can reach, rambling when he's balls-deep, soft little praises and encouragements. Like right now, for example. You're pressed into his mattress, chest against his, one of his hands in your hair while the other plays with your clit. "Sweetheart…oh, God, yes," he whines, forehead pressed to your temple, pushing in so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.

The second thing? He looooves the sounds of sex.

He thrusts especially hard, if only to make the headboard tap the wall, to make the bedsprings protest under his weight, to hear the wet sliding sound of him entering you over and over and over. He bites and sucks and kisses at your neck, just to get you to gasp and whine and writhe beneath him. All so he can pin you harder and tell you "Shhh it's okay, fuck, baby, just--oh, that's so good…"

When you finally tighten around him, coming undone from his constant gentle circles between your legs, he's wrecked. Face flushed, panting for air, legs trembling as his thrusts get sharper and shorter. He'd gladly cum inside you in a heartbeat if you're okay with it, pressing as deep as he can, shaking and whimpering your name as his hips jerk helplessly. Otherwise, he's more than okay with pulling out, too, covering your stomach and chest, groaning out that "You're sooo pretty, covered in me, fuck.."