#c'mon I HAD to draw him

[nell0-0]

The saddest link of your choosing being sad pls!

Love your art <3

The saddest Link of all

:)

[tapakah0]

YOU DID IT WHEEEEEEEZE Okay without jokes I have been reading random stories and other stuff where everyone had like a family trauma or one parent leave or no parents at all and so on. And even if someone had a normal family they were sidekicks. That started annoying me and I was wondering if I will see in the future something like THIS. Another point to you WHEEEEEEEEZE I LOVE IT

Part 15 :0

I think this is the last part of this episode ahahaha

In case you're wondering, Oscar's parents are happily married and absolutely in love with each other. All parents. All four. of them.

And he has three younger siblings he absolutely adores~

Previous

Masterpost Ref for their fucked up villain family tree

[stevebabey]

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers

summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.

How hard could it be?

[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]

STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL

"Be my girlfriend."

The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.

You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"

Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.

"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."

You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.

Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.

"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."

Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."

Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.

"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"

Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.

"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.

"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"

"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."

He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.

"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."

Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.

"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"

He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.

"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."

You take in his words. "But you're not."

"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.

"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."

You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."

Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."

His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.

"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."

You take a moment to think it over.

"When is it?"

"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."

"Dress code?"

"Formal. Duh."

"How many people?"

"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."

Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.

You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?

Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.

You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.

It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?

Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.

Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.

Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.

"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."

You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.

He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."

You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.

Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.

He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."

Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.

"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."

Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."

You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.

"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.

Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.

His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.

He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."

"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."

—

A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.

You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.

Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.

You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.

You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.

It would take an hour, tops.

A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.

"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.

Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"

You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.

"And just what are you trying to say?"

Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.

"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."

He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."

You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.

Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.

You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.

"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.

"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."

"Different?"

"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"

His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.

You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"

Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.

"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"

You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.

You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.

His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.

You could do that.

"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"

"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."

You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.

A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.

"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."

You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.

Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.

"Think this'll do?"

Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."

You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.

"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."

Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.

"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."

Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"

Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."

Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.

"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."

Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.

"And Brandon."

"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."

"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."

Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."

You blink, perturbed. "What?"

"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."

You cringe a little. He does have a point.

"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.

You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."

Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.

"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"

You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.

"Yeah," You say.

Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.

Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.

You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.

"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"

Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."

"You lost that game."

"I still scored!"

"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."

Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."

You laugh again, soft and light.

"Who asked who?"

"I asked you." Steve says.

You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.

What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.

Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.

That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?

You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.

You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.

For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.

"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"

"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."

He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.

"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.

Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"

Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."

Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!

Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"

Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.

"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.

"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"

STEP TWO: THE ACT

Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.

Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.

You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.

"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.

He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.

You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.

"We got together the 20th—"

"—of June, last year." You finish for him.

Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."

You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"

"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."

That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.

"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.

"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."

"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."

Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.

What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.

You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"

Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.

"They definitely did."

There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.

Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.

"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.

The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."

"Steve."

"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."

"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.

"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.

"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."

"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.

You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.

"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.

Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.

You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."

Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.

Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.

Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.

"Ready?"

Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.

He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.

A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.

As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.

Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.

Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.

Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.

Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.

Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?

“Steven.”

The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.

You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”

He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.

“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”

You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.

“No, Mom, you didn’t.”

There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.

That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.

“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”

The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.

Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.

“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”

You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.

Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.

“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”

This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.

The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.

“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.

Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.

“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”

It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.

Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.

“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”

“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?

You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.

Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.

“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.

“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”

Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.

He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.

“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.

“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.

Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.

The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.

“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”

The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”

For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.

However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.

“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.

Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.

A new voice interrupts.

“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”

You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.

He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.

The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.

“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.

Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.

Then he does the same to you.

It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.

God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.

“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.

You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.

“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”

Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.

Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.

“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.

He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.

Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”

He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.

You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.

And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.

Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.

“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”

“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.

You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.

“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”

Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.

“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.

He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.

“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.

You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.

“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.

“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”

There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.

You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.

The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.

You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.

“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.

“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.

He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”

He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.

You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.

Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.

It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.

As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.

“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.

From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.

You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.

“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”

“You think?”

You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.

If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?

"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."

Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.

"Touchy?" He provides.

You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.

The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.

And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.

You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.

How different would it really be?

Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.

Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?

The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.

Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.

Just more. More of this.

Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.

"Hm?"

"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”

Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."

Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.

"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”

The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.

Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.

“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?

He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.

“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.

How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”

“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.

“Okay," You say. "Fair."

"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"

It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.

"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."

"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."

Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

"What about you?"

Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."

"Too late."

“Yeah, well, obviously.”

There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.

“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.

He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”

“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”

Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.

Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”

You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.

“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.

You’ve met him thrice.

Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.

Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.

“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”

Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”

Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”

Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.

Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.

You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.

You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.

“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.

Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.

“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”

There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”

Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.

A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.

“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”

Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.

“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.

You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”

He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.

“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”

The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.

Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.

Does he really think all those things about you?

Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.

He turns back to his father’s business friends.

“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”

You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.

It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”

You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.

Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”

There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”

“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”

Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”

Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.

You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”

“Eh, what’s the big difference?”

“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”

He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.

“Steve? Leaving so soon?”

The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.

“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”

Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.

Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.

Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.

“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”

He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.

“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.

“It’s like- wait, no—”

Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.

“Is he paying you?”

You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.

“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”

He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.

STEP THREE: THE KISS

You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.

You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.

And… oh.

He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.

For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.

And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.

Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.

He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.

“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”

The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.

“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”

Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.

STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.

You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.

Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.

You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.

Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.

Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.

By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.

Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.

As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.

“I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.

"What?"

"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.

"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."

You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."

Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"

His particular wording isn't lost on you.

"But you are mad." You press.

"I'm not."

You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?

"You sound mad."

Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.

"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"

“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”

Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.

"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"

“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”

That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?

Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.

His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.

"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"

He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"

He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.

A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.

"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.

"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."

"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."

He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.

"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”

There's desperation in his final plea.

A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.

A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.

"Wha... You never said anything."

It comes out a little insulted.

Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"

"I didn't think I was your type!"

Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.

"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"

"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”

Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.

“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."

"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.

He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.

"And... now?"

Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.

"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"

It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.

"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"

Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.

"Would you... want that?"

"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.

Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.

But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.

And there it is; the true revelation.

"And I don't think I want to."

The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.

He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.

How the hell did you miss it?

"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"

What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.

"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.

Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.

But you want to try.

That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.

He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.

He pauses just before your lips can touch.

Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.

Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.

You're excited.

His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.

"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."

The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.

He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.

You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.

"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.

"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"

"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.

God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.

"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.

You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.

"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"

Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.

"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."

Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.

You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.

Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.

One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.

Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.

As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.

taggin some peeps below! @illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime

@katsu28 @inthehystericalrealm @djarinova @cheugyphobe @sunshinesteviee

@sunlitide @citrinesparkles @bigfrogs

just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm

[stargirlygirl]

you're quiet during it

lads li's (except for raf; separate) x fem!reader

contains: nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, p-in-v, oral sex (f!receiving), p-link for xavier

⭑.ᐟ caleb

at first, it would throw caleb off guard, being the louder one when y'all are devil's tangoing. but it's no issue.

he learns your audial cues: when your breath hitches as you're about to cum, the little mewls that tell him he's doing a good job, and your sweet "more, caleb!" whimpers.

he's also attentive to your physical cues: your back arching as he messily eats you out, so close to an orgasm it's almost painful; your hands tugging on his silky locks when his tongue is lapping your folds; and how your thighs tense up and shake when you're finally swept away by a riptide of pleasure.

and caleb takes pride in hearing how loud he can make you. of course, it's only after an hour or so of overstimulation that you're more talkative and noisy.

he's fucking obsessed with how you cry out, "please, caleb! i can't. n-no more." chuckling against your slick cunt, the lower half of his face drenched in your release, he'll gaze up at you with hazy sunset eyes.

"c'mon, honey. just one more?" he coos so sweetly, rubbing your thigh and all. and when you do give him that one more, you're absolutely silent, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you writhe beneath him. the ecstasy is far too overwhelming for a sound to be made.

when he sucks on your clit harshly, that's when you nearly scream; exactly what he's been waiting so patiently for.

⭑.ᐟ sylus

sylus finds your hushed moans endearing.

i think he definitely teases you when he's eating you out, something akin to, "you're so quiet, kitten. doesn't this feel good?" but he knows you're in actual heaven right now.

when he's on top, thrusting into you so tenderly, i know sylus is groaning and panting in your ear the sweetest things. "you're biting your lip so hard, sweetie. careful—" he pulls your lip out from your chompers with his thumb, "or you'll draw blood."

especially when you're cockwarming him and whimpering softly in his ear, it makes him all the more harder. he'll throb inside of your snug walls, pre-cum leaking everywhere as he rubs your back and murmurs, "don't runaway, kitten, when you're taking me so well."

like caleb, he's got your sounds memorised. but unlike caleb, i don't think sylus pushes you to the edge. i think he'll stop as soon as you yawn, god forbid you do so as he's still rutting into you.

your bf will pull you into a warm cuddle and let you rest for as long as you need. he praises you half-lovingly, half-mockingly, until it's time to get cleaned up.

⭑.ᐟ zayne

i'm imagining this princess and the pauper "you're just like me, i'm just like you" moment between you and zayne the first time you had sex (whether that be oral, penetrative, mutual touching, etc).

because he's... somewhat controlled in the sound domain, he understands that your lack of loud sounds isn't because his performance is lacking (though he needed reassurance initially), but because that's how you are. he's never commented on it or teased you for it. zayne simply relies on consistent communication to ensure you're enjoying what he's doing.

let's say you two have a rare day off and spend the morning in bed. waking up, you're exchanging gentle kisses, which quickly become heated. but since you're both sleepy, it's this lazy kind of lust.

he's in between your thighs, taking you to the far reaches of the universe when he pulls off your swollen clit and asks breathily, "does this feel good?" releasing a low whimper, you nod and push his face back into your pussy.

you can feel his micro-smirk as he eats you out till you're trembling and softly mewling, your thighs clamped around his head.

and when you're spooning, it's tender and slow, zayne sliding every inch in before drawing back. you're wrapped in his warm embrace, panting a little. your bf let's out this cracked whimper as you squeeze around him, close to his end already.

he rasps out, "it's been so long since we've done this." you hum in response, your grip on his scarred forearms tightening before you see the stars together.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

like sylus, xavier finds it cute. with how tough you try to act all the time, it inflates his ego when you're a quiet, shaking mess beneath him.

he likes how your body does the talking. no words are necessary when you're rolling your hips up to his, hands pawing at his trousers in an attempt to take them off.

he'll tease you, "you really did miss me, huh?" but he delivers it in his soft voice.

and you, too needy to register that he's having a go at you, will just nod and whimper a small, "please."

i can't help but think of this p-link.

xav definitely mocks you during sex, asking you in his low commanding voice to be louder and to tell him how good he's making you feel, how much you need him, to tell him anything because he wants to hear your voice. specifically, he wants to hear it break as you try to speak.

and he only grows more demanding as his climax approaches. his sweet pants and moans tangle with yours as you grip his shoulders. holding onto them for dear life, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as he buries himself so deep and cums inside.

masterlist

star girl's final words: sorry if this is rats ass. just something that's been on my mind, which i wanted to get out.

[oporotheca]

The Sweetest Struggle

synopsis: up early with your toddler, Satoru endures the sweet struggle of letting you sleep in a little longer - much to his daughter's chagrin.

tags: MDNI, pure domestic bliss, fluff, satoru gojo loooves his wife and daughter, no plot just fluff <3 notes: find a prequel of sorts to this fic here <3

6:00 a.m. in the Gojo household, and despite the fact that the sun was only just barely winking upon the horizon, two voices could be heard above the slowly awakening crickets and early birds.

Uncoordinated clapping - palms only just barely meeting and with scarcely any force behind them - accompanied whispered words, stifled yawns, and breathless chuckles.

"Oh, c'mon, princess... you're just handing the applause out now, I didn't even do anything."

Satoru complained softly down to the child in his arms - his daughter, just shy of a year old - making no effort to hold back the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

In response, she babbled happily, complete nonsense spilling from her lips as she squirmed with delight, gazing up at her father with wide, shining eyes - as if he had hung the moon and stars just for her.

He adored that look, not just because it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world, but because he was certain, beyond even a shadow of a doubt, that she had learned it from the way he looked at you.

And speaking of you -

"Mamamamama..."

The little one droned on, her baby babbles fading into that familiar word she was so very fond of using. Satoru couldn't really blame her though; not with the way your whole face lit up whenever you heard it. If he were in possession of such a power, he was certain he'd abuse it too.

"Yeah, yeah..."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pinched at his daughter's soft, sleep-warmed cheek, trying to draw her attention away from the brief glimpse she had gotten of you still fast asleep in bed as he'd quietly shut the door on his way past after scooping her from her crib.

"Let my wife sleep, you precious little leech."

His tone was pure adoration even if his words teased.

After all, he'd be lying if he said he didn't get where his little girl was coming from.

The sight of you in bed that morning, all wrapped up in the thin covers you'd only recently swapped the winter set out for, hair mussed and expression oh so peaceful, had made it almost impossible to leave once he'd heard the telltale sound of shuffling coming from the monitor he'd moved from your bedside table to his the night before.

His baby girl was an early riser, after all, always up at the crack of dawn, bright-eyed and ready to go... much to her parents' exhaustion...

But there was no way he’d let you be the one to get up with her again for the sixth time that week — not after all those mornings he’d missed, slipping out to work before the sun had even shown its face.

Not to mention how small you’d looked in that big bed of yours, the one meant for two...

Yeah. He really couldn’t blame his daughter.

In fact, he probably wanted to wake you up even more than she did - he just had more self control...

Marginally.

"C'mon sweetheart."

He murmured, adjusting the 11-month-old on his hip as he started to prepare breakfast for her, eggs already out and on the counter, rice cooker humming beside them, and pan warming up on the stove.

"Lets make you something to eat, hmm? We can go see Mama after."

And when he looked down to check his little girl's reaction, only to be greeted by the sight of her adorable smile - the one she had inherited from you - he felt his heart swell with adoration.

So, if he just so happened to wake you up a little bit earlier than he'd planned...

Well, who could blame him?

After all, the little girl on his hip was far too persuasive to resist.

[punkkture]

simon with a cute and sweet shy girlfriend.

{ mdni } - cocky simon, pervy simon, bj's, and eating out yay wc: { 1027 }

— it's not that you were insecure or sensitive. you just enjoyed the life that came with being a bit more reserved. one close friend, saturday nights spent at home, and letting simon do the talking anytime his friends were over. he didn’t mind either way, he was still going to act the same.

standing in front of him at a nice dinner party john and his wife had planned. simon just adored the way you dolled up into a skintight dress, yet hating when eyes were on you. it almost made simon snap his fingers and tell you to go change before leaving.

there wasn’t much he could do now, his palms on your waist while you picked at which appetizers to set on your plate. warm hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, trailing over your hip, almost like he was searching for something.

and when he found it, his thick fingers hooked under what he could make out of your panty line, pulling it back and letting it go. the stretchy elastic snapping harshly against your skin under the dress.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at your little jump.

"hurry up, i wanna get outta here."

— in a more intimate setting, his persistent cockiness to your bashful attitude was more evident.

he’s got your fatty ass in the tight vice of his hands. shoving your body down to ride his sensitive cock. gentle squeaks from your lips made their way into his ears, he had to figure out how to get you to be more vocal.

both of you had sweaty and sticky skin. it was always so much work to get him to cum. it’s not that he didn’t want to, but it was obvious he tried to draw it out for as long as he could. and, not that he would ever let you know, it was a hopeful attempt at getting you more pliable and docile for him.

so when he finally does stuff your sopping cunt full of his warm cum, he’s pulling you off of his still twitching cock. protests and whines falling from your puffed up lips as he is eagerly dragging you to straddle over his face.

“simon don’t that’s gross” almost a desperate plea for him to not humiliate you like this.

"'s fine baby, c'mon let me try." he’s huffing and not wasting a second of time to pull down the delicious and overstimulated pussy onto his mouth.

his strong fingers were making sure you weren’t going anywhere. barely giving enough room for you to squirm around.

he’s smiling against the soaked sweetness. dipping his tongue into your leaking hole while grazing his teeth against your sensitive clit. softly, but enough to get you to let out a choked sob and twitch against his face.

simon was refusing to let up until sticky globs were covering his mouth. planting a gentle but firm kiss right onto that far too sensitive spot once you had cum a couple times. it only took thirteen minutes for him to prove his point.

"you gotta wake me up like this one day, 's so sweet baby."

— simon's favorite memory of this is when he helped you manage the painful tent in his pants. your smooth skin rubbing up against the cotton fabric of his sweatpants. sitting on his lap with your soft sleep shorts on, eyes just glued to the tv as your favorite movie played.

he would never tell you no when you asked to watch it together. but after the tenth time in three months, he needed a little more to keep himself awake.

occasionally grinding you into his lap anytime it got interesting. just so you wouldn’t really notice. and a man could only take so much. his heavy voice flowing into your ear once he leaned up a little.

"need your help real quick honey."

your eyes only glancing away from the screen when he slides you off his lap and sitting you next to him. his hand engulfed yours, trailing it over to the tent in his pants.

your cheeks were red and you whined about missing the movie, but simon knew deep down you didn’t mind, there was just a small sliver of prude hiding away in there somewhere.

he paused the movie as he convinced you to pull down his pants and boxers. and anytime you were like this, it was almost like any semblance of remembering what to do, left your head.

"spit on it a little." his voice was lax, fingers scratching sweetly at your scalp to hopefully act as a form of encouragement.

soon enough he had your small hands wrapped around him, his thick cock covered in your spit. the drool oozing out from around your fingers while you moved your hands up and down, jerking him off as he reassured you. it really didn’t even take long for him to get your mouth around him either. using gentle coos to explain how ‘it just hurt so bad’.

he tries to not chuckle when you choke and gag around his long cock. the salty taste of his pre cum hitting the back of your throat, but he wanted more.

"swallow. swallow baby."

and when you do, he shoves your head down a little more. burrowing himself all the way into your tight throat until his fatty tip was pressed against you.

it was almost wicked. the way he tried to desensitize you to the size of his cock. in his head he was helping.

but that’s not how it felt when you were choking and gagging around him. your lips puffy around him while drool seeped down to the base of him. it helped to swallow while he was sheathed into you, a gasp of air making it through every time. and he loved it. the sensation of your throat tightening around him, even just for a second, was euphoric.

the only thing getting you through was the idea that he’d be relaxed enough afterwards to finish the movie. and he didn’t let up until his cum was pouring down your throat.

"good job, baby. good good job."

ೃ࿔* tag list: @vanillarosekiss @simonskitty @cu456 @silverwoodlynx @mlthree @vint4geroses @ktmjoslin @darlingchanse @xangelbnnyx @tslmvn @1pps @jgissle12 @asherscove @bunty-girl @yu-rikaa @mara-018 @diorpar @sky-robin @ray-19 @ldrtypeofgirl @mentalhorror @teranya @chawitea @all-by-myself98 @jinx53 @alfiestreacle @annierosesreposts @frazzledfawn @chris444evr @iamtoriasworld @annierosesposts @dude1634 

[missdynamighttt]

↳ ❝ THERE'S NO ONE LIKE YOU, SWEETS. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you make what feels like the worst decision of your life—getting into a hot tub with your fake boyfriend, katsuki bakugou.

starring: fake boyfriend! katsuki bakugou x oblivious! reader ⍣ ೋ

disclaimers!: fake established relationship, prefers ass, humping/ grinding, a little degradation, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), sexual stuff in water

note: pro hero! katsuki drabble, usage of "woman", "sweets" "baby", "slut", fem reader, fake relationship trope, inspired by to all the boys ive loved before hot tub/ jacuzzi scene. I KNOW I HAVE A POLL, I PROMISE ILL GET TO THAT, JUST NEEDED TO GET THIS OFF OF MY CHEST💜💜

╰┈➤ ❝ [this is so stupid...] ❞ you mumble, walking down the hallway to the pool area, your arms crossed as the cold winter breeze hits your skin.

somehow, kirishima talked you into confronting your 'boyfriend', katsuki bakugou, after he started ignoring you in the class 1A ski-trip/christmas party this year.

"c'mon, girl, hes probably waiting for you in the hot tub 'nyway. get in there, and get him!"

it was only supposed to be a fake arrangement between you two. to be honest, you're not even sure why hes mad. but he was.

the hand-holding, hugs and kisses started to feel too real, the closeness felt too intimate. it was all getting in your head so you distanced yourself from him, sitting next to ochako in the bus instead of katsuki.

katsuki needed to get his ranks up in the charts and you needed publicity. that was all there was to it. supposed to be, anyway.

you reach the pool area and thats when you see him. katsuki bakugo. in the hot tub. shirtless. and in swimming trunks. he's lounging with his eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, letting the heat and jets of the tub ease his muscles.

you catch your bottom lip between your teeth. you draw closer to the hot tub, perching yourself on the ledge across from katsuki, not getting in the water because you had a night gown on. for now.

though his eyes are closed, a slight shift in his demeanor reveals that he's aware of your presence. even in his attempt to maintain a façade of calm, the subtle tension in his shoulders and the tightening of his jaw betray his awareness of you.

"katsuki?" you tilt your head, trying to get his attention.

when he doesn't respond, you scoff, crossing your arms.

"wow, katsuki, real mature."

his eyebrow twitches at the comment on his maturity, his eyes flutter open. he looks at you with an unimpressed stare, his expression a mix of annoyance and... something else.

"oh, because you're a real shinin' example of maturity," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

you frown at him. "seriously, why are you mad at me? and don't go yappin' about how you're not mad, i can tell."

"why do you think?" he grumbles, unable to meet your eyes as his cheeks tinged pink.

"...you've been hangin' around with round cheeks all fuckin' day."

that was all he was mad about? is he.. no. he couldn't be jealous. he had no reason to.

"that... that shouldn't matter."

"well, it does matter, goddamn it," he mutters angrily as his scowl deepens, his jaw clenching in frustration.

"you don't get it, do you? you're my girlfriend, you were supposed to sit with me."

"fake girlfriend-"

"i don't give a flyin' fuck. you're still my girlfriend, woman, fake or not. i expected you to sit with me. and instead, what do i see? you hangin' out with fuckin..."

he lets out an exasperated sigh, raking a hand through his wet hair. he looks like he's trying to find the right words to express his feelings without coming across as too jealous or vulnerable.

"fuck. fuck, i'm... i'm not tryna control you, okay? but it bugs the shit out of me. it bugs me that you were hanging with round face. it bugs me that you sat next to her instead of me."

katsuki's gaze softens at your quiet, conflicted expression. he sighs again, his eyes briefly darting away from you before he continues.

"i... i even brought your damn favorite snacks in case you got hungry," he mutters, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "i thought, we could have sat together and, you know..."

you look up at him, a hint of surprise widening your eyes. you contemplate how to continue, trying to lighten the mood with a soft smile. "do you... still have some left over?"

katsuki scoffs at the attempt to change the mood, but can't help the brief spark of amusement that flickers in his eyes.

"no, obviously," he replies with a roll of his eyes. "i ate some and gave kirishima the rest after you decided to ditch me."

"rude."

"damn right, it was rude. tch, ditchin' me like that."

you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head, looking at him with a soft gaze. "i'm.. i'm sorry i didn't sit next to you."

katsuki's ears turned slightly pink as he hears your apology. he glances at you hesitantly before looking away again, trying to maintain his aloof demeanor.

"yeah, well, apology accepted, i guess," he mutters, his voice lacking its usual sharpness.

you nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. after a brief moment of silence, you gather your courage and shed your nightgown, revealing your bare skin as you slowly step into the warm embrace of the hot tub.

katsuki's eyes widen as you stripped, his heart rate speeding up at the sight of you in just a pair of black bra and panties. his eyes roam over your body greedily, taking in every curve and contour.

he clears his throat, his gaze is fixed on your figure as you step into the hot tub, the warm water enveloping you. he tries to keep his thoughts in check, but the sight of you like this, almost naked, is making it incredibly hard (like his dick).

"damn..." he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "what are you doing to me, sweets?"

you look at him with eyebrows raised, a soft smile formed on your lips. "hm?"

he takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. the water laps around you two, creating a sense of intimacy, and it only adds to the tension.

"seriously, do you have to look like that right now?"

"like what?"

"like... that," his voice is hoarse, gesturing vaguely at your form. "like you're tryna drive me crazy."

katsuki reaches out, his hand hovering just above your torso before finally making contact, his fingers gently carressing the curve of your waist. his hand felt so warm, almost competing with the heat in his eyes now mixed with his raw desire for you.

"damn it, woman. you're killin' me here..."

"can i apologize for that too?"

"i'll forgive you... under one condition," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. his hand slowly roams over your bare skin, exploring your body with a newfound confidence.

he pulls you closer, the water sloshing around you as he guides you onto his lap. his arms encircle your waist firmly, every contour and dip of your bodies fitting perfectly against each other. the corners of his mouth tug to a grin."sit here for me."

your eyes widen in surprise as you feel a rush of heat across your cheeks. you could feel his hot, raging boner, pressing up against your cunt through the thin, pathetic fabric you call panties.

a cheeky grin spreads across your face. "katsuki, is that...?"

he groans, his voice low and gruff with frustrated desire. "just shut the fuck up, sweets."

his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you nearer, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, hungry kiss. his tongue dances with yours, greedy and demanding.

the kiss was intense, filled with pent-up longing and need and so much words both of you couldn't say.

he keeps you trapped against his body with his arms in the hot tub, his touch both tender and possessive.

"such a nice fuckin' ass.." he whispers, groping and massaging your doughy ass before pulling you back in for a deeper kiss.

your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind on his hard-on, a little embarassed as you feel your panties dampen more from the water and your slick but can't help but want him. need him.

"fuck," he groans, feeling his cock get so painfully hard just from you humping him. "you little.."

your breath hitches when you felt his hand slide down your inner thigh, tugging the pathetic g-string to the side. he enters a finger inside of you, seperating your folds, feeling your warm pussy and your wet slick in the midst of the water. "k-katsuki-"

"aww, this all for me, sweets?" he coos, watching you whimper as he rubs your aching clit.

you pout as you grind against his hand, desperate for friction. your teeth sink into your lip as he put a second finger, your eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and greed. "so what if it is..?"

"that fucking eager for me, huh?" he chuckles darkly, his fingers enveloped by the warmth of your pussy as he curls them inside of you. "gonna take it all for me, yeah?"

you nodded, clinging onto him like a lifeline, whimpering and mewling choked versions of his name. "fuck, fuck.. kat- katsu.. katsuki..."

katsuki groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his hand your hips grip you tighter, pulling you closer, while curling his thick digits against your sensitive spots, the sound of your lewd noises music to his ears.

"see my fingers fuckin' you, baby?" he mutters, his lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your tender skin. "only i can make your pretty pussy feel this good, yeah?"

"mhm," you manage. despite the embarrassment, you can't help but give in to the heat building between you.

his eyes lock onto yours, his voice sultry and mean. "you know, you're such a fuckin' slut. lettin' me finger you like this where anyone can see us."

a loud moan escapes your lips as your pussy clenches around his fingers at the name. you couldn't help it. fuck, he was so, so mean. and you fucking loved it.

a cocky grin spreads across his face, letting out a low chuckle. "oh? you like it when i call you a slut?" he taunts, bringing a grin to his face at your reaction. "can't believe you're into that shit, sweets."

"it's your fault- fuck.."

"oh? blamin' me now?" he taunts, a cocky expression on his face. "thought you were more.. mature than that."

katsuki flaps his fingers faster inside of you, abandoning the slow, careful pace of curling he did earlier. your slick and the hot tub water moistens his fingers, yet you can still smell the faint hit of your cunt.

"katsukiii! fuck, fuck, fuck. too much, too much..."

"just look at you, sweets. takin' my fingers like a champ, such a good fuckin' girl," he coos, his filthy praises making your pussy clench around his fingers.

"bet you wanted this as much as i did, did you?"

"n-no-"

"bullshit. if you don't, tell me to stop right now."

"sh-shit, no.. don't stop, please.. please, i need you.."

"that's what i thought," his grin widens, his hand that had been resting on your hip moves lower, tapping your leg gently. "lift your hips up for me."

with a nod, you comply, the water rippling around you as it drips out of your legs, katsuki finally seeing your sweet little cunt without the transluscent filter of the water. his grip on your thigh tightens slightly, letting out a shaky exhale as he rubs your clit.

"you close, sweets?" he glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours, feeling you nod before he leans in for a long, lingering kiss.

"cum on my face, 'kay?" he utters softly after pulling away, leaning down on your sweet cunt before lapping his tongue away at your aching slit while still pumping his fingers full of you.

his tongue felt so good. he felt so good, it hurts. all you could smell was the intoxicating scent of your cunt and katsuki's saliva sloshed together.

"katsuki..." you can't help but let out a lewd mewl, whimpering as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body.

"there's no one like you, sweets," katsuki groans into your pussy, the loud sounds he was making as he ate you out while he fucked his fingers into you was just so lewd. when it felt so good. when anyone could catch you doing this. "cum on my face, baby, c'mon.."

you shudder from the pleasure from his touch as you feel your release, chest heaving up and down as you catch your breath. though, his tongue kept flicking at your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of you as you ride your high.

your post-nut clarity kicks in. fuck, you just.. let katsuki bakugo, your fake boyfriend, not only finger you but you let him eat you out. it doesn't matter you were into him. he was still your fake boyfriend.

and not just anywhere, no. but in the damn hot tub. where anyone could've seen you. the worst part? you enjoyed it to your core.

before you can think loudly again, you feel his lips brush gently against your cheek. you turn to look at him, a little surprised at the sudden show of tenderness after the heated moment as your eyes meet. you take in the disheveled sight of him, his hair damp and wet as he catches his breath, your mind still trying to catch up to the events of tonight.

"sweets... my room. now. please."

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ should i do part 2 guys lmaolmao hope you enjoyed 💜💜

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[bluebeads-art]

As the flash hits your eye, you feel something crashing into you from all directions. Below you is obvious, Bonbon situated themself to bump into you while the picture was taken. You look to your right, and Mirabelle’s cheek is pressed up to yours. On your left, Isabeau’s sheepishly hugged you to his side. There’s a hand in your hair, too, and it feels like Madame Odile. [...] “We need a souvenir of this trip,” Mirabelle adds. She rushes to the ground to pick up the picture and snort-laughs as she looks at it. “Oh no, Siffrin looks like we’re holding him hostage!” — Curtain Call, Chapter 9, by @openphrase123 (Link in the replies)

2024 October 22nd

Fanfic fanart fanfic fanart!! When I read the "hostage" line, it invoked such a clear image in my head of Siffrin tensed up like a startled prey animal that it got added to my list of things to maybe draw immediately.

Dooon't think about the words 'left' and 'right' in that quote too hard. I know how to read I prommy. :) (I did Not process those words and lost the coin flip in the composition phase...)

Close-up and ramblings about the cans of worms I unleashed upon myself under the cut

Time taken on this was [head in hands] 48 hours and 37 minutes.... That bloated number has two culprits:

1) I got a new tablet! My old one was 10 years old. Its plastic was melting and the electronics had ghosts in 'em, so it needed the sweet release of retirement. However, I had just gotten to the line art phase when the switch happened. Clumsily getting used to the new one during the most precise phase of the process did devastating things to my perfectionism.

2) I made a GRAVE mistake with how I chose to color this. I wanted to keep the grayscale layers for accuracy instead of just slapping a B&W filter over the colored version, so all the colors come from gradient maps, color balance layers, overlay layers, and raster layers clipped to other layers. Listen. I'm used to working with lots of layers. I like keeping things separate so I can edit them more easily. But this is the worst layer system I have ever created. Going from color to B&W requires toggling exactly 20 layers & folders on or off. There are 87 visible layers total. This file lags when you edit it. I've never wanted CSP v1.13 to have layer comps more in my life.

Not helping matters was Isabeau. I said he was the easiest to draw in my last post, but he took that as a challenge, apparently. It's a simple fist-on-hip pose, why was that so hard!?! His face gave me grief too.

Odile's lil' wave got added at the end of the line art phase. I've never added to a sketch that late in the game before, but I felt bad about how little screen area she got, haha. Girl, I tried, but this composition was not kind to you.

Giving Isa, Odile, and Siffrin skin colors felt cursed. Well... "color" is maybe a stretch for Sif. The pallor from being affection-jumpscared isn't helping. In the dev's nose reveal post, they said that Siffrin isn't white but is white-passing, so BOOM albinism headcanon. Like c'mon, they wear a big hat and have most of their skin covered because the sun is a deadly laser when you have little to no melanin and idk if sunblock exists in-universe. Heck, maybe most Islanders have it, their whole religion is about the night sky so maybe they're nocturnal. This makes perfect sense. :)

[megapteraurelia]

suna rintarou who counted down from 10, his long fingers cheeky as they rubbed your clit, his other hand dipping into your heat, seeking the one gummy spot inside you that had your back arching away from his chest and gasps to fill the room desperately.

"don't run away from me," his voice was raw, heated against your neck, teeth finding your pulse point to gently bite, his tongue sweeping over your sweaty skin.

suna's elbows dug into your legs as he flushed you closer towards his chest, keeping your legs spread apart, the squelches of your pussy obscene as he added another finger to stretch you out.

he hummed, throaty groan escaping him, "yeah, doing well, baby, six...five...four..."

your toes curled and pants fell from your lips, breath heavy, high-pitched moans and hiccups, his name a prayer on your tongue.

"...three...two....one..." and before your mind could comprehend to give in, his pace suddenly quickened, "give me another five, baby, five...c'mon, don't you dare cum yet."

a hard whine escaped you as you struggled to get out of his hold, but his elbows dug deeper, his arms caging you in, suna's sudden teeth burying in the curve where your neck met your shoulder keeping you in place.

you bucked against his hold, "ahhh, rin, w-wha— pl-please i ca-ha-hant.."

he licked over the bite mark, "yeah you can, baby, c'mon...four...easy, easy...three...mhmmm..."

suna kissed your neck, tongue drawing galaxies on your skin whilst murmuring praise, his hands brutally bringing you to the brink over and over as his fingers fucked into you, as he kept hitting the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back and your jaw slack.

"twoooo.....one and three quarters...one and a half—"

"yo-ou ba—ah-ssss— nghh i h-hate you."

suna spat in lieu of counting down more, the droplet sliding between your bare breasts down your sweaty abdomen, and his thumb reached up quickly to catch the dollop to rub your clit with, the palm of his hand slapping against your swollen, hot lips.

"shut up," he replied, and kissed your exposed throat when your head fall back against his shoulder, twitching in his arms from how overwhelmingly fast your orgasm was approaching, "one more second, pretty."

that one second turned into an enternity when he wouldn't let up, when your own hands scratched against his forearms and he played with your cunt like his very own toy, when you convulsed against him, your muscles tensing, pussy squeezing around his fingers.

TAGLIST | @takes1 @classicalelephant @sugacor3

[mishellii]

♢ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ, ᴋɪʙᴀ, ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ, ɴᴇᴊɪ & ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ

a/n: sooo my first headcanons yeiih!! this just came flowing out of me while watching boruto tbh because i'm delusional lmao,,,, anyway, very self indulgent as always :) ignore typos pls i cant spell aaaand enjoy xx

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: none! SFW :) not proofread

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿sUCH a messy sleeper

❀he'd toss and turn throughout the whole night, ending up somewhere completely different than where he fell asleep on the bed

❀matching pyjama sets !!!

✿especially seasonal ones, he adores them

✿BLANKET HOGGER !!!

❀but not on purpose really, he just pulls it with him due to all his movements

✿u always wake up with it either on the floor or him laying atop of it

❀sometimes he hits u with his elbow or his feet, but pls don't tell him he WILL cry

✿just push him away, boy will not wake up under any circumstances

❀the both of u alWAYS cuddle when falling asleep

✿the usual position is with his arms around your waist, legs thrown over ur own and his face resting next to ur shoulder

❀for that exact reason he's a BIG SPOON !!

❀so so quick to fall asleep, and wakes up after u as well

✿but not at all groggy in the morning !! he's energetic from the second he opens his eyes and sees u preparing breakfast

❀overall just the softest boyfriend ever

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

❀now thIS dude sleeps like a corpse

✿he's not particularly prone on cuddling u, but he fairly enjoys having ur head on his chest and feeling ur fingertips draw circles against his skin

❀he'd never admit it tho obviously

✿mostly wears a black lose t-shirt and some short sweats or sumn 

❀just comfortable all around

✿i'm a firm believer in the back position

❀laying flat on the mattress, one arm either around u, or both resting on his belly

✿light sleeper, if i may

❀takes him pretty long to fall asleep as well, but counting ur breath usually calms him and makes it easier

✿u make everything easier for him actually

❀doesn't really care about a blanket, it all really depends on what u prefer while sleeping

✿often awoken by nightmares, but won't ever wake u up or tell u the next day because he thinks it's embarrassing

❀refuses to leave the bed in the morning, but isn't moody at all just very quiet

✿always helps u make breakfast and makes the bed without having to ask him to

❀overall just a calm lover

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

❀without a doubt, a snorer

✿like IM SORRY LADIES but c'mon

❀but not annoyingly loud, just breathy lil snores

✿the problem with it is: he won't move an INCH away from u ever, he's all up in ur business while sleeping

❀doesn't matter how, he's always got to feel u next to him somehow

✿i take him as a sleep talker too, mumbling incoherent words against your neck which only make u laugh tbh

❀akamaru's got his own bed next to the two of u, but some nights he crawls in between ur bodies, practically suffocating u

✿you really don't mind on colder nights, but in summer kiba makes him get off, due to having such a high body temperature already and he doesn't want u to complain even more

❀wore a shirt and pants at the beginning of ur relationship

✿but now??? u'd have to FORCE him to wear anything more than boxers

❀hates when u don't want to cuddle :(( might as well kill him fr

✿why need a blanket when he has you??

❀doesn't leave the bed AT ALL in the morning, u literally have to grab him by the feet and drag him out of it

✿he's a sweetheart, really

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

❀dude HATES cuddling at the beginning of ur relationship, me thinks

✿but fear not, it just takes a bit of convincing from ur side and he's in on it

❀but it's subtle touches really, like holding his hand or having ur feet intertwined

✿if u've had a bad day, he'd definitely play with your hair to make u fall asleep, he's not a diCK

❀grey sweats all the way !!!!!

✿rarely ever wears a shirt, except for when it's cold of course

❀he seems much more like a light sleeper than not, but he's so grouchy when something wakes him up it's a drag really 

✿has to be completely dark and quiet in his room or he won't be able to close one eye

❀always sleeps on the side closest to the door

✿big on talking about both ur days at night because he's a very private person and loves spending time with u ALONE

❀deep talk at 2am?? u can bet on it

✿forehead kisses!!! once u wake up and neither of u want to get up and start ur day

❀he's such an attentive lover in general, i'm actually going insane 

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀oh my lovely boy

✿i feel like he wouldn't move a MUSCLE while sleeping

❀sometimes you have to poke him to make sure he's still alive

✿AHEM

❀a light sleeper foshou

✿also ????

❀he would 100% wait for u to fall asleep first

✿would always run his fingertips over your back to make you tired

❀unfortunately, the closest to cuddling u two do, is ur head on his chest

✿he gets sweaty quickly, so he'll often sleep without a shirt (which u don't complain about obviously) and that's the reason why he doesn't necessarily NEED body contact (in this situation only!!)

❀but HUGE PLUS he'll sweet talk you to sleep almost every night 

✿asking about ur day from begin to end

❀he wants to know it ALL

✿in general, he's really big on making you as comfortable as possible before bed

❀would even wait till the morning to go pee because you look so peaceful laying on his chest

✿don't mind him watching u he just thinks ur so pretty ok

❀u wake up to the smell of coffee almost every morning

✿overall, as we been knew, the gentlest gentlemen to perhaps ever gentleman goodbye

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

❀poor baby's the king of light sleepers

✿always ready to jump into battle and protect u if he has to, even if u convince him that ur safe and nothing's going to happen :(

❀casually wears a black tanktop and some sweats, mask and shinobi headband easily reachable on the bedside table at his right side

✿definitely enjoys u playing with his hair too much

❀he prefers to fall asleep with his head either on your chest or tugged just under your chin so he can hear you breathe and ur heart beat

✿he's so tragic oh my days

❀anYWAY light snores but only when he's REALLY gone and u rarely ever see him in this state so,,,,,

✿loves listening to ur stories before falling asleep

❀legs & arms intertwined and allathat 

✿you will never lay in bed without him picking up one of his books at least ONCE

❀it really calms him down u know

✿but start a conversation with him, and he's all urs, book long forgotten next to his mask and headband.

❀always wakes up earlier than u, preparing breakfast with said book between his fingers 

✿(he swears he'll close it once ur awake tho)

❀((he does))

a/n: AHEM i hope u liked it ???? pls tell me ??? AAAA i will see u beans next time bye bye xx

devider by @enchanthings

[heestoleurgirl]

nishimura riki 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ in which you underestimate how clingy your boyfriend actually is, he loves cuddling and kissing you sm :(

genre: FLUFF, fluff and more fluff pairing: bf!riki x fem!reader wc: 1.4k

masterlist 𖤐.ᐟ

it wasn't your first time sleeping over at riki's place. at this stage in your relationship it had become almost routine, you were able to walk around his apartment as if it were your own.

you were currently in the bathroom, just having finished showering. it wouldn't be unusual for you and riki to shower together, however he insisted on doing the dishes left over from dinner while you got the shower all to yourself.

the soft fabric of his shirt felt even better against your skin after you'd cleaned yourself. his smell immediately enveloped you, leaving your lips curled upwards in a smitten smile. why bring your own pjs when you could just wear his clothes? you hummed along to the faint song playing from your phone as you grabbed your toothbrush and got to work.

about a minute had passed, you were so immersed in brushing your teeth and listening to the music that you barely registered a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist slowly. your head shot up, only to see riki's tall frame hugging you through the mirror. his face was lazily buried in the crook of your neck, leaving stubborn strands of his hair to tickle your skin.

જ⁀➴ more under the cut!

"ki, i'm busy" you murmured, the words muffled with the toothbrush and toothpaste still in your mouth. you had to lean a bit more forward to reach the sink, since riki had pulled you flush against his chest.

"don't care, missed you" he hummed against your soft skin quietly, he loved how amazing and fresh you smelled after the shower.

you laughed softly in return, you were gone for a maximum of 20 minutes, plus you'd already spent the whole day together. yes, you knew your boyfriend was clingy but somehow it never ceased to surprise you. was this the same man that acted cool and closed off around his friends? you rolled your eyes in endearment, and you knew he'd probably start complaining if he saw it. not like you minded it one bit, you thought his soft demeanour was absolutely adorable. (you don't tell him that, he hates being called cute)

riki tugged at your waist gently, urging you to hurry up without words. "c'mon, stop being impatient" you scoffed and smiled, though he was too busy to listen, distracting himself by kissing your shoulder and neck softly.

the toothbrush was discarded in favour of your skincare products. riki's ears perked up at the sound, finally drawing his attention to what you were doing. his face turned from hopeful to disappointed, were you seriously planning on making him wait even more by putting stupid stuff on your face? not on his watch.

you reached for the first product, but your hand never made it. you let out a surprised yelp as riki picked you up in one swift motion and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed absolutely nothing.

"riki!" you whined in protest, though you knew it was no use. you watched helplessly as he grabbed your phone and strolled out of the bathroom like it was the most normal thing ever. "i need to do my skincare! put me down." you tried sounding firm and strict, but failed comically.

"nah" his grip on your bare thighs was firm, before he practically threw you in his bed. riki didn't waste a second, he climbed in next to you and yanked you against his own body, knowing you might try to escape to finish your nightly routine.

his arms snaked around your waist once again, tight enough that there was no chance of you escaping from him, but also mindful not to hurt you. you groaned, feeling a little irritated that you wouldn't be able to finish your skincare. though it was impossible to stay mad when you looked down and saw your boyfriend cuddling you like you were a damn teddy bear. his long ass legs were now tangled with yours too.

"you're so annoying..." you murmured quietly, your voice lacking any real conviction. the words contrasted with your actions completely as you wrapped your arms around his neck and idly played with strands of his hair.

riki felt like he was in heaven. if it were up to him, you would never leave his bed ever again. he loved the way your small body fit perfectly against his, as if you were made just for him. your skin was soft and warm, making you his personal heater. he could feel every soft rise and fall of your chest, along with the faint sound of your heartbeat.

his hands began to wander mindlessly, slipping under your shirt (his shirt to be precise) to caress the bare skin there. you shivered slightly when you felt his feather light fingers trail down your spine, moving over the curve of your backside and stopping at your thighs to rub them gently.

your unfinished skincare was long forgotten now, all you could focus on was how good his touches felt. it was as if you could feel the love and care behind every single one, even when he was so tired and quiet. you thought your heart might burst from the amount of affection you had for him in this moment.

riki groaned softly when your fingers involuntary tightened in his hair. you removed your hands from his dark locks and cupped his face instead, gently pulling his face up so you could look at him. his messy bangs covered his eyes, but they seemed to be extra round right now as he looked up at you adoringly.

you were no expert on feelings but the look in his eyes made your stomach churn with a sudden rush of butterflies, you swore you could see hearts in his eyes. for a moment you were breathless, just staring at his pretty face.

he slowly inched closer, taking advantage of your distracted state to press his pink lips against yours gently. no matter how many times you kissed, it always made your heart race and your brain feel all fuzzy. his cheeks were warm and soft under your fingers, and time seemed to stop completely around you two.

you weren't sure how much time had passed as you were completely tangled against him, your lips moving each other leisurely. riki's hands wondered yet again, trying to caress and touch as much of your skin as he could, he absolutely adored every inch of you. every time you pulled away a bit for air, he would wait a second at most before diving right back in. the action made you smile against his lips, making your heart beat fast yet again.

minutes later, he pulled away and switched to pressing soft kisses across your face. your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, he didn't leave anything without a gentle smooch. you couldn't help the dumb smile that was plastered on your face, you closed your eyes and quietly let him do as he pleased. one of your hands detached from his cheek to once again stroke his hair.

riki opted to leaning back a little to appreciate your cute face, a faint blush visible on your cheeks. he poked your side lightly to get your attention, making you open and jokingly narrow your eyes at him. "what?"

"nothing. you look pretty." he smirked, hoping to see you become even more flustered, he loved having that effect on you. knowing you were just as affected by him as he was by you.

seeing his smirk, you decided to tease him a little. "i'm gonna go finish my skincare." you announced abruptly and shifted, moving out of his arms as if you were actually about to leave the bed. to nobody's surprise, riki immediately pushed himself up and tugged you right back against him.

"you're not going anywhere, don't even try to leave." he playfully glared at you and pulled you so you were laying under him, caged between his arms.

before you could tease him further, he laid directly on top of you, crushing you with his weight. you let out a groan/laugh and nudged his shoulder, but he wouldn't budge.

"ki! i can't breathe!" you whined, wriggling under him in an attempt to get him to move. unfortunately for you, riki made absolutely no effort to get off you.

"looks like you're having a seizure, i might need to give you mouth to mouth so you don't die." he smirked yet again, and leaned down to kiss you before you could protest or complain.

safe to say, you didn't do your skincare that night. though, feeling his lips against yours was a damn good alternative.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, pervy! Eddie, pervy! reader, friends to lovers, idiots in love, masturbation(m), mentions of sex toys WC:2.1K

Summary: You find Eddie stuck in a compromising position. In your efforts to help free him, you find yourself stuck in one too.

This just might be the dumbest thing he's ever done in a long and varied history of dumb things he's done.

The sound of you pulling up to the trailer has Eddie sweating all over again, his breathing turning choppy when your footsteps draw nearer and nearer, the handle on his bedroom door starting to jiggle and swing open.

"Okay, what could possibly be so important that you couldn't tell me over the pho-"

You suck in a quick breath of air when your eyes land on Eddie, the poor boy looking equal parts embarrassed and helpless. Not to mention naked, save for the pillow he's planted over his crotch.

Your eyes rake over him very carefully, following the length of his left arm until you're able to figure out exactly why you've been summoned.

"Eds, why'd you cuff yourself to the bed?"

He looks at you with tired eyes, letting out a sigh so deep and defeated, like that of a man whose spirit is beginning to splinter.

"I was...you know... and I wanted to try something new...", he admits reluctantly.

You can't help it.

You try your best but you can't quite hold back the little giggle that overcomes you, clamping a hand over your mouth but all that does is make it worse when you snort out loud instead.

"C'mon. You can make fun of me after I'm uncuffed", he tells you, the words sour on his tongue. Please, the key's under the bed. Could you?"

Jokes aside, you stall for a moment to take this all in.

It might not be the best time to think so but the longer you look at him you realize that there's something about seeing Eddie like this that makes him look picture perfect.

The poor boy's nervous sweat makes his pale skin dewy and glow. His bedhead looks more effortlessly tousled than frizzy and wild like it usually is, and his big brown imploring eyes look like they're crying out to you like you're the only one who could possibly help him.

It's all so alluring and he doesn't even know it. You just wished you had a camera so you could save a snapshot for yourself. Especially if he'd let you pluck that pillow right off his lap. But you decide to keep that little detail to yourself for now.

Composing yourself, you remember what it is that you came here to do, giving Eddie a nod before you get down to kneel and peer under his bed and locate the key. As expected, based on the state of the rest of his room, there's a cornucopia of forgotten items strewn about in front of you.

What you see first are a few dirty magazines. No surprise there. Then a stray guitar pick, a few polaroid photos messily fanned out face down, a couple of dusty cassette tapes, a suspicious looking balled up tissue, three quarters and a crumpled, empty pack of cigarettes before you manage to eye what you're looking for.

It's a little further away than you had hoped for as you stretch out your arm, just an inch or two from your finger tips.

While concentrating hard on the task, you don't realize how the lower half of your body must look like right now but a blushing Eddie sure does.

Despite having called you over to help free him, he's starting to hope that you never find the key after all, staring at how your denim shorts stretch over your ass and ride up high, hips moving side to side as you try to wiggle your way under his bed a little more until....

You're able to successfully wrap your fingers around the little silver key, cold to the touch in your grasp as you huff a sigh of relief, pulling your arm back to you. But that calm is short-lived when you get ready to pull yourself back out from under Eddie's bed.

You're in up to your waist, the chipped slats above you scratching against your back because the top half of your body is unable to budge no matter how much you try to maneuver yourself or try to push yourself out by using your arms. Slowly, it dawns on you that you might just be trapped beneath the bedframe.

"Everything okay under there?", Eddie asks when you hears you begin to struggle.

You gulp, sweat dotting the nape of your neck.

"Eddie...I think I'm stuck".

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't but his mind goes there immediately -- all those tapes of barely clad women finding themselves wedged in tight spaces. All of them at the mercy of their would be rescuers, more than willing but not showing it until they're being pleasured.

"Shit- are you okay?", he manages to shove the thought aside, biting down the bitter guilt of knowing the way it made his dick twitch against his pillow.

"Yeah. I've got the key too but how do I get it to you like this?"

Even now he can't help but ogle you, your thighs and your ass perfectly on display while you're on your knees. Eddie ponders briefly on how much better it is to see the real thing compared to how he'd been picturing you when he'd inadvertently caused this whole mess in the first place -- slicking his cock up and down with a palm full of spit to the thought of you, accidentally elbowing the key off the bed and out of reach.

"How about you try pushing it out with your arm? aim for the bedside table and I should be able to pick it up"

"How?"

"I'll use my feet", he offers.

You scrunch your brow but you suppose it could work, at a loss for any other suggestions.

"Yeah, okay. Let's try that."

With that you turn your head to the side and press your cheek to the floor, looking over your shoulder to eye where you're supposed to slide it.

Key in hand, hope in your veins, you carefully flick it out from under the bed until it clinks against Eddie's bedside table. Exactly where you were aiming for.

"Fuck, good job sweetheart", his heels thump down on the floor and you feel it pulse against your cheek. Then you hear him shuffle the key between his feet until he can manage to squeeze it between his toes securely.

Carefully, Eddie's able to pick it up as planned and drops it onto the bed within reach of his free hand. Next, you hear the metallic click of the handcuffs coming undone and him hissing as he rubs at his sore wrist.

"Alright. Let's get you out of there", he says, completely forgetting one crucial detail -- that he's yet to clothe himself.

You haven't forgotten about that fact however.

"Eds? are you still naked?"

Eddie freezes in place, looking down at his bare inked skin and his cock, still very much hard between his legs like it's the first time he's ever taken a look at himself.

The realization makes him smack the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration, cursing himself for being such an idiot as the skin there begins to redden behind his bangs.

"Shit. Yeah, just give me a sec an-"

"No, wait"

"Huh?", he turns back around, afraid he might have done something stupid again already. That'd be a personal record for him.

"Maybe you can... I don't know. Maybe you can unstick me some other way?"

Oh no.

He knows that question well, having heard it in many a dirty movie with actors placed in situations not unlike the one the two of you are in right now.

So for a while, all Eddie can do is stare, half convinced he must have imagined you saying it because he knows what's supposed to come next and there's just no way that you'd ask that of him.

Right?

"Um, I'm not sure what you mean" he replies slowly. Playing it safe.

This time, the way you wiggle your ass for him in entirely intentional and watching it makes his cock ache all over again.

You couldn't quite put your finger on it but finding Eddie the way you did made you feel a certain type of way. Something arousing. Something exciting. Something new. And now you wanted to act on that feeling as it grows its roots in you, making a permanent space for itself there.

You know Eddie must have felt it too amongst the car wreck of emotions inside him when you set foot in his room and found him in such a vulnerable state.

"C'mon Eddie. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

His eye twitches, feeling like he's ventured onto thin ice.

"No but, why would you think I'd want to ?", he blurts out all panic stricken and overly cautious, not one to act well under pressure. He's just trying to cover his ass in case you might be trying to play some kind of cruel joke on him.

What follows is a pause that you purposely let drag on a little longer than necessary just so your next few words will land much harder.

"Because the polaroid's of me under your bed are all sticky".

Frigid cold like he's never felt before avalanches down his body. Every breath he takes feels like needles in his lungs, his legs beginning to tremble like they might give out from under him at any moment.

It happened at Steve's last BBQ pool party. You'd been walking around in your new bathing suit so casually and entirely unaware of the effect you were having on Eddie.

Being caught with a boner was no where on his list so he slipped into the nearest bathroom without drawing any attention to take care of the situation in his swim trunks.

It happened sooner than he's used to, something about knowing how closeby you were, just a couple of feet away and soaking wet that made his toes curl and spine tingle.

Afterwards, he flushed the cloudy, floating spurts of cum down the toilet, watching them spiral down the drain before he scrubbed his hands like Mrs. Harrington's nice soap and hand towels might be able to erase what he's just done.

It wasn't over yet.

Eddie wasn't even sure whose camera it was, only that everyone had a go by picking it up and posing for pictures with all the other guests, tossing the snapshots into a pile on a table inside to be sorted later.

He couldn't let an opportunity like that just slip away.

So Eddie made sure to be quick when no one else was looking, selecting a few photos of you which he held on to, taking them home where he could do with them as he pleased.

And he certainly did.

Until one day when he had to kick the small stack of pictures under his bed in a panic when Wayne came in to his room to have yet another word with him about leaving the empty milk cartons in the fridge instead of replacing them.

"Oh Christ- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Eddie", you call out loud enough to stop him from rambling.

"I'm not mad. Not at all. Being like this... I don't know, it's kind of exciting"

"Oh?", his ears perk up.

"Yeah. I like being vulnerable like this. And I think it's because I trust you".

That makes him smile like the sweet goon that he is, filling his chest with sunshine just to know you thought of him that way.

"You're sure? you're really really sure?", he checks excitedly.

Not one for repeating yourself, you puff out a playful scoff, rolling your eyes and though he can't see it, he just knows you're trying to sass him a bit.

"Alright then, sweet stuff", Eddie reaches for you, running his hands over the curves of your body, working his way up to hook his fingers through the belt loops of your shorts to begin tugging them down.

"This is so much better than anything I've imagined us doing" he tells you as he gets to reveal more and more of your skin, no longer a trembling mess. No longer ashamed. Not when you make him feel so understood and accepted.

"Yeah? you think of me a lot?", you work in a little flirtatious riff, humming as you lean further into Eddie's touch as he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs to watch you drip. He thinks he'll try to catch some of it on his tongue first.

"Only all the time", he confesses with an airy laugh.

You smile.

More than the excitement of being stuck and giving yourself to him like this, the whole thing feels a little unusual but right. Weird but good. Unexpected but intriguing. And just so fucking sexy, enough to make you want to do it with no doubts in your mind. And it all feels so much sweeter getting to explore it all with the person who means the most to you.

"I like thinking about you too", you admit with a quiver, your shorts and your sticky panties coming down to bunch at your sore knees.

"Can't believe I finally get to feel you now too".

[daylighted]

ㅤ♡ㅤjust a little more, with [ doe!reader ] & [ clark kent ] ㅤ (18+!!)

you always beg him so pretty. tears pouring from your eyes, saliva pooled in the corners of your parted, panting lips, a glossy thin sheen of sweat coating every inch of your soft skin.

clark's thumb traces gingerly over your cheekbone, revenant touches over each part of your face that his large palms can get his fingers on. you've stilled in his lap, legs tired and going numb, pelvis sore.

"c'mon, pretty girl," he mumbles, his thumb trailing its way up to your lip, tracing across the kiss-swollen, pinkened skin. "you can take it," he leans up to nuzzle his cheek against your tearstained one, brushing your hair away from your face with his nose until his lips are against your earlobe.

your head shakes, and you sniffle softly, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. his free hand finds its way to your thigh, tracing light, mindless shapes on the trembling muscle with his fingernail. "you can, sweet girl," clark insists, tongue tracing along the shell of your ear with his gentle words. "look at me. can you look at me when i'm talkin' to you, angel?"

his fingers trace along your jaw as he guides your head back toward him, forehead to forehead. "there she is," he whispers, just as reverent as his touch is. you're glass to him, even if you don't think it right now. he's terrified to shatter or crack you. "hi," he says with a small, breathless laugh.

"hi," you manage to choke out, your voice gone, your body spent, and clark has the audacity to look at you like he has no intention of stopping, like he'd done nothing at all so far, even though he'd brought you to a violent, trembling orgasm at least four times now. one more, he pressed earlier, when the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes had started to spill, just one more. five's lucky, isn't it?

five didn't feel lucky. five felt like overstimulation, trembling muscles, hot tears sliding down flushed cheeks.

"look how good you're doin' for me, angel," he says, his two fingers taking your chin between them and guiding your head downwards to watch as he shifted his hips, just enough to remind you that he was still buried deep in your swollen pussy. you were sore, and overwhelmed, and the feel of it is just enough to draw a whimper out of your lips. "i know it's a lot, i do, but i also know how strong my pretty girl is."

his praise is enough to relight the fire within you. a second wind, clark'd probably say; a fatal mistake, you'd probably correct.

clark's palm flattens on your thigh when you start to move again on him, slow drawn out circles of your hips, unable to lift yourself too much to properly ride him. still, even just like this, you could feel him stretching you open, even so deep within your wet heat.

his head falls back against the wood of his headboard with a hollow knock, eyes fluttering back open as he watches you through the thick black veil of his eyelashes.

"you're so good to me," he says, his words only slightly slurred through his haze of pleasure, compared to the whimpering, whining mess you were atop him, "jus' a little more, jus' like this, yeah?"

"mhm," you manage through your clenched teeth and pouted lips, letting his hand wrapped around your thigh guide you, support your weight, as your movements become more deliberate.

his lips quirk, dimples punctuating his smile in the soft skin of his cheeks. his hand on your face slips up, up, just enough to press his thumb on your bottom lip and tug it down, slipping the thick digit into your mouth. the pad of it presses ever so slightly down on your tongue, muffling every noise starting back up in the back of your throat.

clark's hips start to lift, meeting each downward grind of your pussy around him with an extra bit of gentleness that he only reserves for you. he could be rougher ─ had been rougher, earlier ─ but he never pushed more than he knew you could take. breaking you in any way was something that he'd never forgive himself for.

except... like this. when even just a couple of deep thrusts into your tight, soaked walls brought those soft sobs out of you again. "shh," he mumbles, his voice roughened with his grunts but still so, so soft for you, "just like this, baby, you're doing so good... just a little more..."

tags. @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @deansbite DO I. HAVE ANY OTHER SMALLVILLE MOOTS IDK PLSSS

[palskippah]

Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

[cute-sucker]

can’t stop thinking abt s1 rafe x shy!pogue!reader where he’s so mean to her but she has the fattest crush on him 😢😢

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ YOUR CRUSH ON RAFE CAMERON WAS ALMOST DEGRADING. it was exciting for him because it made him wonder how much he could push you. how much he could push you, and you'd still look at him with those adoring eyes of yours. how long you would offer up your body, innocent with your pouty lips.

it didn't matter if rafe dismissed you, or if he acted as if you didn't exist—you stayed there, trailing after him like a lost puppy. he liked it too, the thought that no matter what he did, you would still be there.

really, it was sickening how much you liked rafe. he'd push you away, cold mask on his face, the words, 'dirty pogue,' already on his lips—yet you would come back to him. with your soft words, and little gifts. sometimes you left him a small snack, a glittery pink pen etching your initials. sometimes he'd try not to notice the way you'd always be hopeful during parties with your tiny clothes, almost ready to talk to him.

see, he was nice to girls. how could he not be? but you. you defined every rule in the book. you were way to nice, you were a pogue, and lastly, there was the persistence. you wanted a boyfriend, not a hookup. but you were testing every limit he had with your presence.

he could barely control himself with you around, groaning softly when he saw you coming his way. there was a meekness to you, almost as if you were surprised you were even talking to him.  

"rafe?" you'd call, and when he turned around. of course, you were already blushing, pursing your lips to hide your smile, "um...would you mind signing this?"

rafe looked at you again, licking his lips before regarding your pleading look, "yea, why not. what's it for?" then he looked down at you, holding eye contact for a little longer than usual. quickly you got flustered, blinking down as you tried to hold eye contact back.

"uh—it's just for something."

"something? tryna be mysterious and shit?"

"oh no rafe! i—"

finally, he snapped, "alright listen. i know you like me, but uh, i don't do that girlfriend or boyfriend bullshit. especially not with a pogue," he drawled as he gave you a once over, before giving you slight look, "now, either we hook up or nothing."

you gulped, shocked at his outburst, but you couldn't help but pout. wasn't this what you wanted? all dressed up in your cute jumpsuit, all dolled up for him. so he could look at you, so he could appreciate you. at this point all you just wanted was him. but you couldn't give yourself up that quickly. all the blood rushed up to your head, and you knew you were blushing. hard.

"i don't know what you're talking about!" you blubbered, taking a step away from rafe. he laughed, cocking his head.

"oh shittt, don't give me those pretty eyes and tell me you don't want to fuck me?"

suddenly you bit your lip, feeling shy. this was the most you had ever said to him. of course it had to go this way. so you did what every normal person did; murmur something softly that was hard to pick up. but rafe was rafe, he perked up, eyes full of glee. as if he was enjoying your torment.

"c'mon doll, spit it out."

"i..."

"yeah? do i need to draw it out of you?" he whispered, stepping closer to you. your lashes fluttered, feeling like a deer in headlights. now or never. heat went through your body before you looked back up at him. you blinked slowly, a shy look on your face, taking a deep breath.  

"i...i do."

with his tongue tucked in his cheek, rafe leaned back, and signed the paper radiating smug satisfaction, "good. good. now that's settled, lemme finish something here before we get to that."

then rafe gave you a once over as if he knew the effect he had on you, before rising to leave, "see you tonight."

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 3: Baby Fever [Breeding] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩osamu dazai x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: you're thrilled to kick off the new kinky card game with your boyfriend, but you definitely didn't expect it to culminate in your first time going raw.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, mdni, 18+ content, smut with plot, breeding kink, mating press, bdsm elements, breathplay, alcohol consumption, profanity, kink and fetish themes, sexual challenges, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, cum mentioned...etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.3k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

“Is everything set?” you ask, eyes locking onto your boyfriend’s figure as he places the last decently sized shot glass on the table looking you up with a mischievous smirk, sweet excitement sparkling in his brown irises.

“all set, my love.” he chuckles, enthusiasm radiating from him warm as the sunshine of spring as he rests both hands on the table in front of you, his sleeves rolled up and shirt fully unbuttoned.

you take a deep breath, feeling the exhilaration twisting in your stomach. tonight is the night you’ve been waiting for—a card game you’d eagerly anticipated all week: freak or drink. while the game is pretty straightforward, the risks and rewards are irresistibly enticing. each card drawn could push your boundaries, could strip you bare—figuratively and literally—just thought of it makes your thighs press together instinctively.

“okay, let’s start!” your voice betraying the nervous excitement that courses through your veins. you bite your lip as your hand hovers over the deck before pulling the top card from the pile, feeling the cool edges glide across your fingertips as you flip it over, eyes going wide at the challenge: “ sensual stuffing.”

you snort softly, caught between disbelief and laughter. “no way,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile.

“c'mon, baby... are you shy?” dazai teases, leaning in closer against the table, eyes roving over your form, stripping you down before he even touches you.

you roll your eyes as the familiar rush of high heavens of pleasure pulse through you. “not shy, just... strategic,” you purr, smirking as your hands slide beneath the hem of your dress. the lace of your panties catches on your fingertips as you slowly drag them down, stepping out of them and holding them up, feeling the cool air hit the places where your warmth had been trapped.

with a sly grin, you twirl the delicate lace between your fingers, holding it up like a prize. “open up, pretty boy.”

dazai’s smirk never fades, his lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes flicker between your face and the panties dangling between your fingers. it feels exhilarating to push boundaries, especially with that brown haired-brat, who always keeps you on your toes.

you step closer, heat rushing to your face spreading a pink tint under the barrier of your skin as you bring the lace closer to his mouth. slowly, you press the delicate fabric past his lips, watching him hum softly, his tongue grazing the lace before biting down just enough to hold it in place, never breaking eye contact.

his smirk falters for a moment as he tastes your slick drenched panties, before he groans pulling the lace out of his mouth.

“two things that i love,” he murmurs, “you and how easily you get wet.” his tongue darts out, flicking over his lips, tasting the ghost of you still lingering there as he lazily draws the next card from the deck. it's obvious that his focus isn’t on the game but rather on you, completely.

he holds the card between his fingers for a moment, his smirk widening devilishly as he reads it aloud. “fuck yes!! 'body shot.'”

before you can respond, dazai’s grip tightens around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly. the world spins for a second, your breath catching in your throat as he slams you down onto the couch, knocking the air from your lungs. you barely have time to gasp his name before his hands are on you again, fingers slipping under the fabric, peeling the dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a flimsy barrier in his way.

he doesn’t stop, brown irises completely dilated as he grabs the shot glass filled with your favourite amber liquid before tipping it ever so slowly over your chest. the cold alcohol spills onto your bare breasts and the sudden cold sensation makes you arch into him feeling a shiver ripples down your spine as the liquor trickles over your nipples, leaving a glistening trail.

“fuck...’samu,” you whimper, thighs instinctively clenching as he watches the liquid pool at the curve of your breast.

without hesitation, his lips are on your naked bud, tongue flicking out to lap up the trail of alcohol all over your aerola, relishing the feeling of his mouth hot against your chilled skin as he slurps up every drop with a fervent hunger, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples, taking his time, to admire the way you writhe beneath him. each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, juices already starting to slick your thighs.

“you're a moaning mess when we're just getting started?” he pulls away with a low chuckle, stretching his arm to draw a card from the nearby table.

you’re barely recovering from the high of his touch, breath coming in short, needy gasps, “ugh—show meee,” you whine, making a grab for it.

“holy fuck—” the burnet curses under his breath, pausing for a moment.

“whattt?” you pout, leaning closer to catch the words on the card. 'breeding'. oh no! you’ve always been so careful—always on your pills, always using protection. you never let yourself slip, never let caution fall away. but this time? you can’t help it. the temptation eats you alive, a desperate, yearning desire to feel every inch of him, raw and reckless. what if it’s even better than you imagined? what if it’s a pleasure so intense, it leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly undone?

the thought rushes through your mind and before you can fully process it, you feel his cold fingers dig into your bare skin again lifting you from the couch. needless to say, the next thing you hear is the bedroom door swinging open. suddenly, you’re being pushed down onto the bed, the soft mattress beneath you bouncing with the force.

“listen baby, we’re not just gonna try for a baby tonight. we’re gonna make one.”

once he says that with a whisper, your cunt clenches around nothing instinctively, you part your lips to utter something— anything.

“aa—’samu?” you manage, breathless, as he climbs onto the bed, hovering low, his hands press the mattress on either side of you.

“you’re gonna take all of me tonight, hmm?... spread your gorgeous legs baby—uh, fuck yes, just like that.” his large palms push apart the plushy gates of thighs and spread you wide by your perky ass cheeks, giving him a clearer view of your flushed folds.

no amount of imagination could prepare dazai for how much you're leaking right now. juices soaking your pillowy folds, and he can not move his eyes away from you. it's like he's been craving this very moment a long time ago.

“ahh... i've always dreamed of this moment, filling you up with my seed, ngh—!” you never expected to crave his thick, hot cum to fill you this much, but with the way he hangs above you now? mop of brown hair tickling the tip of your nose while his gaze locks on your spread-open thighs and puffy pussy—so ready to welcome his angry flushed cock, his pants hang low, barely clinging to his hips, just under the heavy weight of his balls.

“’s-samu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe his name. oh god, he's losing it, going absolutely wild just hearing his name drip so sweetly from your glossy lips. you feel it before you see it—his thick, swollen tip pressing against your slick entrance, throbbing and red as it starts to push inside your tight, resisting cunt.

“gonna wreck that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growls, head dropping forward to rest on your soft alcohol stained breasts “stretch it wide, make you my slut.”

“ffffuck- this feels better than i imagined—” he exhales sharply, trying his best to resist the urge not to slam his entire lengthy cock deep inside you.

you thrash under his touch, the languid, torturous rhythm making your hips buck toward him, seeking any sort of friction. “nngh—samu-please... more,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed, head spinning from the combination of enthusiasm, desire, and his tip teasing your entrance.

he cannot help but hug you to his chest, feeling your heartbeats ripple through your ribcage and mingle with his own, he pushes several more inches through your sopping folds, your hips buck up involuntarily circling them over his cock, listening out for the lewd noises that sounds from both your sexes rubbing against one another.

drops of thick precum oozing from his cock finding solace between your gooey walls, the sensation of his bare lengthy cock slipping slowly inside you is ethereal.

finally he slams his entire cock through your fluttering cunt with a throaty groan, jaw completely slack as he gasps next to your ear shoving both of the legs to your chest from beneath your knees, completely folding you in half and sinking his cock deeper and deeper inside you. the full stretch makes your cunt clench and thighs spasm before trembling against his palms.

and oh god, the feeling of dopamine surging through you as technicolor bursts of pleasure dance behind your eyelids. you know your boyfriend's body all too well—his cock is more long than thick, with most of the heft in his swollen, heavy balls, slapping against your doughy ass with each thust. but this time? it’s different—this time, there’s no barrier between you. it’s raw. his bare cock filling you up to the brim in ways you’ve never felt before, and you can feel almost evey ridge, every vein of it pulsing between your tight, slick walls, making your nerve-endings buzz with pleasure.

“you feel that baby? ngh— you want me to make—oh shit—your pretty pussy leak with my cum hmm? put a baby in you?” he says in a low bristling tone making you swallow his cock even more with his words.

the constant hitting of his tip against your spongy spot is too much, but you can't push him from this position, even when your pretty nails are scaping his back, nothing would push him away.

“our baby's gonna have those pretty eyes of yours? and those sweet, soft lips?” he purrs gently, as if he isn't rearranging your guts and bottoming out inside you with a harsh, resounding slap of skin on skin, his heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drives himself deep to the hilt almost breaking the bed as it creaks beneath you from the force of his thrusts.

“’sammuuu ahh— t’much mngh fuck—you're insane.” you cry out frantically, voice hoarse, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.

“stay with me, babe… mmff— it’s only been thirty minutes..i know you can handle more.” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, lips forming a soft ‘o’ shape. “ goddammit mngh—you ready to be a mama?” with that, he begins a fast, deep rhythm inside you, his slender hips delivering the perfect stroke.

each thrust has his tip brushing delightfully against your cervix, making your cunt spasm wildly as each thrust sending your essence to splatter against his abs, slick and messy.

“fuck- s’tight and perfect,” dazai growls deeply, pressing his weight against you as he slips his tongue into your mouth, capturing your swollen pink lips and swallowing your moans and whimpers with your knees positioned on either side of your chest.

dazai osamu, the devil that he is, the man who has cradled your heart in his hands, is giving you the best night of your life—guiding you to meet whatever divine force dwells above the clouds as he fills your gooey hole so perfectly.

“mmph shiit—’s-amu..’m clos-e” you cry as he keeps hitting into you roughly, his pelvis grinding against your swollen clit as he grunts ferally into your mouth.

“yeah? gonna let me cum so hard inside you, baby?” he drawls against the sensitive skin where your jaw meets your neck, before gripping your ankles and pressing them back near your ears, his cock sinking into the endless black hole between your thighs, as if he's being consumed by the gravitational force of your cunt.

“gonna make you pregnant... fuh-k—your pussy feels so good mmph holy fuck—i love you hahh.. i fuckin’ love you,” he groans as his vision starts to blur with white-hot pleasure, his balls tightening almost painfully and hips stuttering as he pushes deeper into you, the sloppy heat of your tight walls squeezing every last drop from him. the moment he feels your walls spasm around his twitching cock signalling that you're cumming a throaty groan leaves his chest, spilling hot thick globs of cum inside you—and you couldn't help but unconsciously count the amout of pumps he's feeding your delicious cunt with. seven.. eight.. nine.. ten??—holy fuck! twelve? his cock pulsing with every shot as he kept going, pushing more and more of his release into you till tears cloud your vision.

his breath starts to subside, body finally beginning to relax as the intoxicating pleasure starts to fade into a hazy afterglow. he lets out a long, shaky sigh, pulling out leisurely, your soft whimper catching his ear as his softened cock slips free from your stuffed entrance with a slick 'plop' sound.

his eyes fix on the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your now-so-wide cunt, a trail of white drops of ambrosia running down toward the bedsheets before he scoops some of it up with two fingers, pushing it back inside you again.

you instinctively grip his wrist tightly still breathing heavily, however you don’t stop him, in fact, your body shudders at the sensation as he gently plunges his fingers deeper, making sure every last drop stays inside as he watches, fascinated with how your trembling body accepts it all again.

he lets out a breathless chuckle as he glances at the nightstand, reaching for his phone, he then opens the camera app, focusing on you before snapping a picture of your dripping pussy.

“ugh ’samu, what are you doin’?!” you groan, trying to catch your breath.

“i'll save this for when our kid's old enough and say, 'this is how we made you.'”

“please don’t tell me you’re starting a scrapbook!” you breathe out, rolling your eyes, still trying to steady your racing heart.

“and ruin the surprise for our kid? tsk..never! i’ll keep the best bits for a bedtime story instead.” the burnet chuckles lowly, his hands tenderly massaging your trembling legs, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“that’s one way to guarantee therapy bills in the future.”

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