#Im sorry if im slow to reply to anything :(

[byanyan]

(with tears in my eyes) n-nice

[critter-of-habit]

i have been lowkey hoping that nat w her hair tied up was still on the radar, been thinking about it since that first post. pls don’t take this as any sort of demand or expectation or anything, just a quiet lil thumbs up from the void and thank you for sharing your art w us ❤️‍🔥

Oh it issss I've been working on it when I'm not doing commissions. Slow going 😅

[pillowenvelopchair]

Absolutely fucking stupid that my schools suicide prevention protocol is to basically to put someone in house arrest until a professional can write and “prove” that theyre okay so that theyre sure that they can let a student back in. Yeah. Sure. Just force someone to be in the house where they are even MORE at danger when there are literal sharp objects makes it easier to do it

[birthdayboy-75]

Hello there! I'm an Evan Afton fiction kin whos trying to figure some stuff out :D

Edit: oh lord I forgot to add my name. It's Evan, Ev, Vinn, Vinnie, or whatever of the sort :3

This is a side blog, so ive been on tumblr for a good long while on my main

I use he/they pronouns, and unlabled sexuality wise

Feel free to interact!! That goes for anyone! As long as youre nice and stuff, you can interact however youd like!

Im a minor, so dont be weird! Plz!

~~~~

Dni: anyone whos anti furrys, anti therians, or any other anti things like that, proshippers are not safe here, transphobes and the like are also not welcome. I will block.

typing tag: #its me!

[inmaki]

when you say nickname do you mean like an emoji?? maybe 🍉anon cause watermelons >>> (anon who talks about yuuji yes)

also also i sent in a loaded ask regarding gojo and i just want to make sure if you've received it or not; no need to answer it if you don't want to, and i apologize if it's something you're not comfy with answering aaaa

n e ways thank you for the food-- the latest ones have me all giddy because, in relation to the ass n tits one too, i lack the bosom department. greatly, lmao, actually--good to know most of my faves prefer the other two.

i know this is a weird question but what's ur honest opinion on body hair? again, no need to answer if you're not comfortable. it just crosses my mind often whenever i read nsfw/suggestive works, and idk, maybe i'm a weirdo but it makes me insecure more often than not

- 🍉

i meant like a nickname but tbh emoji works too!! “i lack the bosom department” HELP 😭 i giggled out loud BUT IM SORRY UR BF (yuji) IS THE BIGGEST ASS LOVER I HAVE SEEN <\333 its ok cuz he loves the other two just as much ✊

hmmmmm body hair is a pretty debatable thing,,, personally my mom took me to get my arms and legs lasar removed a while back so i dont have to worry about those, but from talkin to my guy friends, a lot of them prefer women with little to no body hair, especially on their arms for some reason 😭😭 one of my friends said he stopped liking a girl cuz she had hairy arms I WAS LIKE WTF IS WRONG WITH U ??? but yeah :( baby PLEASE do not feel insecure about it body hair is the most natural thing ever !!! its up to personal preference some guys (like my friends) are just weird af

[cderiva]

ships pet-sitting. especially dogs (grown dog, puppy, senior dog - each has its potential) having to walk them. maybe the dog has weird specific quirks or fears. having thoughts.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・squirting on geto's face ⸜⸜・

"it's good, isn't it." he chuckles, sending vibrations to your cute. you're spread out on the bed with geto's head in between your thighs. he kisses your clit gently before sucking it in his mouth. you whine, no matter how many times you've done it, he had always made you cum so hard. geto wraps his arms around your thighs, burying himself deeper into your cunt. he smacks his lips, licking around his mouth. in his mind, there's nothing better than being in between your legs and he would die here if he could. his breathing is hard because of how eagerly he eats out out.

"i want to try something today." he says, a smile forming on his lips. he pats him fingers against your opening, smirking at the sound they make.

"i could drown here." he jokes and you snort at his comment, pushing his head between your legs again.

"don't be a brat, sweets and let me do what i want." his smile is contagious and genuine, making you feel warm inside. geto finally pushes one of his fingers inside of you. it's easy for it to go in with you being this wet, so soon another finger joins the first. he rubs gently around your walls and you think about what he might do. he usually prepares you for his cock by fingering you but you know he loves eating you out and fucking you more than making you fall apart on his fingers. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in circles. you whine and moan, your body relaxing at his gentle touches.

"here we go, sweetheart." he says and his fingers suddenly change their pace. he hooks his fingers on your sweet spot, rubbing it in rapid pace. your back arches of the bed and slutty moans exit your mouth.

"suguru, slow down." you gasp, tears spilling out of your eyes. he abuses your insides, every thrust of his fingers better than the other. your pussy sounds even wetter than before and you feel embarrassed. the room is filled by the sounds of your pussy and your slutty moans.

"are you gonna cum?" he coos, kissing your lower tummy. you nod your head, unable to say anything. he licks at your clit, his fingers still hammering inside. your legs trash around his head as you cum, juices spraying everywhere. you squirting catches geto of guard as he gets his face covered by your juices. the fountain of your juices stop but you're still shaking and spamming around his fingers. he presses his hand down on your tummy to stop your rapid movements.

"oh my god," he chuckles, wiping the wetness of his face, "are you okay, love?"

"better than ever." you reply, breathing heavily. the whole orgasm drained you off all of your energy.

"let's go wash up, baby. my hair is so wet from your juices."

"im sorry, sugu."

"don't be, you're gonna do it again soon. i want it. "

[navybrat817]

(Im)Patiently Waiting

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Bucky is trying to patiently wait for your call.

Word Count: Over 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and already whipped, okay?)

A/N: Continuing with Moving in Slow Motion and Heart and Home, the phone call! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky looked down at the phone in his hand. He was never the kind of guy to constantly check his device, but he hadn’t stopped looking at it since he met you. Hell, he checked it while he was still at the museum, hoping for a text or something so he’d have your number, too. He didn’t think it was possible to become whipped so fast, but life still surprised him.

He sighed when the screen went dark. Why hadn’t you called yet? Maybe he came on too strong? He didn’t think he had. Were you just busy? Probably. You had an adorable daughter who needed you love and attention and-

“Bucky!”

His head snapped up to find Steve, his best friend and second-in-command, staring at him. He didn’t look impressed and pursued his lips more when Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear a damn word I said, did you?”

“No,” he replied, not bothering to lie. “Was I supposed to be listening, punk?”

“Yeah, you were, jerk.” Steve ran a hand through his golden hair, plopping down in his chair. “Still hasn’t called yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, setting the phone on the desk in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky sighed again, staring off at the books that lined one of the walls of his office. He didn’t divulge much of his personal life to others. It was safer that way, to both protect himself and the people he cared about. But meeting you and your daughter, he told Steve and their small circle all about it. How Sweet Pea bumped into him and his heart melted. How seeing you set his heart on fire.

They were stunned to say the least and were naturally curious about you since you caught his attention. Each of them offered in some way to do their research on you and make sure there was nothing suspicious or dangerous about you, but he refused. His gut instinct told him all he needed to know.

“You know,” Steve began, pulling his attention back. “We can get you her number if-”

He cut him off with a glare. “I already said no,” he growled, taking a breath. He wasn’t going to snap at his best friend. “I’m doing this the right way.”

Bucky was powerful, extremely powerful, but he wouldn’t use his influence over you. It wouldn’t be right. His hands were dirty as it was, and this could be his chance to have something pure.

With his hands up in surrender, Steve nodded. “Sorry. I just… I haven’t seen you like this before and you haven’t even gone on a date with her yet,” he smiled a little. “She must be something special.”

Bucky smiled a little, too. “She is,” he whispered. Things that didn’t make sense before did after he looked in your eyes.

“Yelena will be the judge of that,” the blonde winked.

“Yelena will take one look at Sweet Pea and declare that she’s her aunt,” Bucky teased, both of them chuckling.

If Bucky’s group taught him anything, it was that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. Friends were the family he got to choose. He would defend and protect them with his life. He imagined you were like that with your daughter, perhaps even more.

Who defended and protected you?

A ring echoed in the office and Bucky stared at the device as it lit up. He held his breath when a phone number popped up with no name. His gaze flickered to Steve as it kept ringing. Was it you?

Steve stared back at him like he had grown two heads. “What the hell are you waiting for? Answer it!”

Clearing his throat, he waved for his friend to go, who did so quickly. If it was you, he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping. If it wasn’t you, he didn’t want any witnesses when his face fell.

Releasing his breath, he finally quietly answered, “This is Bucky.”

“Hi, Bucky,” you spoke on the other end, stating your name as well. He slumped in his chair at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat. It was really you. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the science museum.”

“Of course, I remember you. You and Sweet Pea.” He couldn’t forget either of you if he tried and he didn’t want to. Did you think of him as much as he thought of you? “How are you two doing? Did she win the contest?”

“We’re doing just fine. She keeps talking about the museum and wants to go back, but no word if she won the contest or not.” He could hear the smile in your voice and it put a smile on his face, too. “How are you?”

“I’m doing just fine,” he replied, getting up and heading to the sofa so he could relax a bit more. He was better than fine since he was talking to you.

“Sorry it took me a bit to call you.”

Should he admit that he kept checking his phone in anticipation? “No, no. You don’t need to apologize,” he said. You didn’t owe him an explanation either. Whether you were busy with Sweet Pea or you didn’t want to call right away, that was your business. “I’m just glad you called.”

“I am, too.” There was silence on the other end. “So, I, um…” Your nervous giggle was beautifully endearing. “God, I’m really out of practice with this.”

“Practice with what exactly?” he smiled, laying back and looking at the ceiling. He wondered if you were sitting on a sofa, too. Or maybe you were in bed, comfortable, unwinding.

“Talking, I guess. At least with someone outside of work or parenting.” There was that giggle again. He wanted that sound on a loop. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Why don’t you start with what you did today?” he suggested.

“That might bore you.”

“I don’t think anything you could say could possibly bore me,” he sincerely said. If you decided to pick up a phone book and read it to him, he’d listen. But he was genuinely interested in your day. The little things would help him get to know you better and build more of that connection, both with who you were as a mother and as a person.

“Okay, but only if you tell me about your day, too,” you said.

“Now my day might bore you,” he chuckled. He wouldn’t start anything with you built on a lie about what he did, but he had to be careful with the truth.

“Mmm. I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a boring kind of guy.”

“Oh, I’m not boring,” he smirked. He would love to show you just how thrilling he could be some time. “But my day might be.”

“Try me,” you smiled.

“Can I ask you something before we talk about our ‘boring’ days?”

“Yeah, anything,” you answered.

Butterflies filled his stomach. Jesus, he was nervous. When was the last time anything made him feel nervous? “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

The pause on your end didn’t soothe his nerves. “A drink?” you repeated, your voice smaller than before. He detected uncertainty, like when he offered you his number.

“Yeah. Coffee at a cafe or wine at a nice restaurant, whatever you want,” he replied, exhaling slowly. He didn’t want to mess up your schedule or over complicate anything for you. “What do you say?”

Bucky stared down the barrel of a gun more than once in his life. He experienced torture. Had come close to death. Waiting for your answer was a different kind of torment. It would either be a killing blow or his saving grace.

“I’d love to get a coffee with you,” you stated, allowing him to properly breathe again. He wanted to pump his fist in the air. “Tomorrow, maybe? Unless that’s too soon. Is it too soon?”

“No, no, that’s great,” he smiled. He couldn’t stop smiling. Even if wasn’t free tomorrow, he’d clear his schedule. “Give me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“Great.” The uncertainty was long gone. “There’s a cafe not too far from me. I can text you the place and time.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, and he wouldn’t be late. “Now… tell me about your day.”

He was going to soak up every single word until he saw you in the morning.

You called! He's whipped! You have a date! I still need to name this AU. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[natsaffection]

Can you write a fic where reader and Natasha are best friends and one day reader comes back from a mission and Nat helps reader relax by giving her a massage and reader accidentally lets out a moan turning Nat on, and things get heated ending in sex?

(You can make Nat G!P or not it’s up to you, and sorry if this is bad, it’s my first time requesting something)

Relaxing. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, G!P Natasha, fingering, unprotected Sex, begging, rough Sex

Word count: 2,2k

A/n: Jesus Christ, Im sorry....

You stepped into Natasha's apartment, the weight of the mission still clinging to you like a heavy shroud. Your muscles ached from the effort, and you felt utterly exhausted. Natasha, ever perceptive, immediately noticed the tension in your posture as you sank onto the couch. "You look like you've been through hell." Natasha observed, her voice gentle but teasing as she approached you.

"That's exactly how it feels.." you replied with a tired smile, leaning back against the cushions. "Everything hurts." Natasha's eyes softened as she stood behind you, her hands hovering just above your shoulders. "Let me help,." she offered, her voice a soft murmur as she began to knead the tight muscles in your shoulders.

The moment Natasha's hands touched you, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Her fingers were strong and skillful, effortlessly working out the knots. You sighed and sank deeper into the sofa as the tension in your shoulders began to melt away. "You always know exactly where the knots are.." you murmured, closing your eyes as you surrendered to the soothing rhythm of Natasha's touch.

Natasha chuckled quietly, her hands moving lower, tracing the line of your spine with deliberate pressure. "I can practically feel the tension radiating off you." she said, "You need to relax more." You nodded slightly, too content to form words. Natasha's hands were like magic, taking away the stress and exhaustion that had accumulated throughout the day. But as her hands moved lower and gently pressed the small of your back, your body responded in a way you hadn't expected. When Natasha applied a bit more pressure to a particularly tense spot, you couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips. The sound was quiet, almost involuntary, but it hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken tension.

Your eyes snapped open, your face flushing with embarrassment as you realized what had just happened. "I-I'm sorry..!" you stammered, your heart racing as you tried to pull back slightly, embarrassed that such a sound had slipped out. But Natasha didn't retreat. Instead, she paused for just a moment before continuing, her hands now moving with a new, deliberate slowness. "Don't be embarrassed." Natasha murmured, her voice taking on a seductive tone. "I like knowing that I'm making you feel good."

Your breath caught at her words, your mind spinning with the implications of what Natasha had just said. There was something in Natasha's voice, a subtle change that made it clear she had noticed more than just the moa..she had felt how your body had reacted, how you hadn't really pulled away. Her hands resumed their work, but now there was a different kind of tension in the air, one that made your pulse quicken. The touch was no longer just about relieving tension, it was intentional, exploratory, as if Natasha was testing the waters to see how far she could go.

As Natasha's hands glided lower, tracing the curve of your hips, she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to hide anything from me." Natasha whispered, her voice soft and full of intent. "I know what you want, even if you're too shy to ask for it." Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Natasha's hands hovering just above your hips, waiting for your response. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning into the touch, your body silently encouraging Natasha to continue.

Natasha's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she felt your reaction. "That's right.." Natasha whispered, her voice a soft, seductive purr. "Just relax..let me take care of you."

With that, Natasha's hands glided lower, her fingers brushing the tops of your thighs, lingering just a bit too long. Your breath quickened, your body tensing slightly under the intensity of Natasha's touch. You knew you should say something, should stop this before it went any further, but the truth was..you didn't want to. The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a warm blush creep across your skin. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the tension between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. Natasha's touch, her voice, the way she was slowly breaking down your defenses, it was all too much, too intoxicating to resist.

As Natasha's fingers slipped just under the hem of your shorts, you let out a shaky breath, your whole body trembling with the intensity of the moment. "N-Natasha.." you whispered and her hands paused for a moment, her fingers gently caressing the skin just above your thighs. "Do you want me to stop?"

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. You could feel every nerve in your body yearning for Natasha's touch, the need inside you growing until it was almost unbearable. "No.." you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

That was all the encouragement Natasha needed. Her hands resumed their slow, deliberate exploration, sliding lower, closer to your center. The touch was gentle, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity through your body, drawing another soft, involuntary moan from you. Natasha's breath was warm against your ear as she whispered, "Good girl."

Natasha's fingers moved skillfully at your entrance, drawing soft moans and shivers from you. The intensity of the moment was palpable, each touch and whisper pulling you deeper into a state of desire you hadn't fully realized. As Natasha continued, you could feel the tension building in your body, and you knew you couldn't hold out much longer without wanting more. Needing more.

"Natasha.." Your voice was a breathless whisper, filled with a mix of need and uncertainty. But Natasha didn't give you time to think. Instead, she pressed a firm, demanding kiss to your lips, silencing you with a possessive hunger that left no doubt about how much she wanted this. Natasha's hands roamed over your body with a confidence born from years of desire, her touch firm and determined, as if staking a claim.

"Shh.." Natasha murmured against your lips, her voice deep and thick with desire. "You're mine tonight." Her hands were no longer gentle as they moved lower, roughly pulling down your clothing, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your body tensing for a moment before surrendering to the sensation of Natasha's demanding touch. Natasha's breath was hot against your neck as she trailed kisses and nibbles down your skin, each touch filled with an intensity that spoke of her pent-up desire. She had waited far too long for this moment, and now that she had you in her arms, she wasn't going to hold back.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this.." Natasha growled, her voice a mix of frustration and longing as she pressed harder against you, drawing a soft moan from you. Your mind was spinning, caught up in the roughness of Natasha's touch, in the way she seemed to unravel as she gave in to her desires. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt a surge of excitement and power. You could feel Natasha's need, her raw, unbridled lust, and it awakened something deep within you.

When Natasha thrust into you with a hard, unrelenting stroke, you cried out, your body arching under her as she filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, Natasha was thick, stretching you in a way that made you feel utterly possessed. But it wasn't just the physical feeling that made your heart race, it was the way Natasha moved, the raw, animalistic lust that fueled every rough thrust, every satisfied growl.

"Fuck, you feel so good.." Natasha moaned, her voice hoarse as she set a merciless pace, pounding into you with a ferocity that spoke of her desperate need. "You're so fucking tight."

"Natasha..G-God..!" your words were cut off by another deep thrust, your back arching as Natasha hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Please.. don't stop!" Natasha's grip on your hips tightened, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with each thrust. The roughness, the dominance, it was exactly what you had craved, what you hadn't even known you needed until now.

You moaned loudly, your voice trembling as Natasha's pace grew faster and harder, each thrust more intense than the last. "Is this what you wanted?" Natasha growled, her voice dark and commanding as she leaned down, her lips brushing your ear. "Tell me. Tell me how much you wanted this."

"Yes..Y-Yes! Natasha..I wanted this..I wanted you- fuck!" your words came out breathless, your mind barely able to keep up with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel yourself losing control, as Natasha pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Her lips curled into a wicked smile at your confession, her thrusts growing even more intense as she drove herself into you with a force that left you gasping for breath. "Good." Natasha purred, her voice deep and full of satisfaction. "Because now that I have you, I'm not letting you go." Natasha whispered, "I'm going to make sure you feel every single inch of me.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you tried to hold on, to maintain control, but Natasha gave you no chance. Every movement, every thrust was designed to break you, to drive you deeper into the pleasure that Natasha so skillfully conjured.

“You belong to me..” Natasha growled, her hand burying itself in your hair, pulling your head back as she leaned over you, her breath hot against your neck. “Say it. Say that you belong to me.”

“I’m-I’m yours, Natasha..!” you gasped, your voice trembling under the intensity of the sensations crashing over you. “I’m yours..Godd..” These words seemed to drive Natasha even further. With a deep, wild growl, she turned you onto your stomach, her movements rough and demanding as she positioned you exactly how she wanted. Natasha’s hands gripped your hips firmly, her nails digging into your skin as she aligned herself with you again, thrusting into you with a force that made you cry out loudly in both pleasure and surprise.

“Damn, yes..” Natasha moaned, her voice filled with raw lust as she pounded into you with a brutal pace, each thrust hitting deep and eliciting loud, desperate moans from you. “You feel so damn good, so tight..so perfect..” Your mind was a haze of lust and pain, the roughness of Natasha’s thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. “Natasha..please, I can’t..I-I’m going to..”

Natasha’s hand slid between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with a rough, practiced touch that made your whole body tense in response. “That’s right.” Natasha murmured, her voice filled with command and satisfaction as she felt you tighten around her. “Come for me, I want to feel it.”

Your breath caught, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. You could feel yourself losing control, the roughness, the intensity of Natasha’s thrusts, her fingers working on your clit, it was too much, too good, and you could feel yourself falling, the climax rushing towards you with unstoppable force.

Natasha’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate as she neared her own climax, her breath hot and uneven against your ear. “You belong to me.” she growled, her voice rough with need. “Completely mine.”

With one last, deep thrust, your world shattered. You screamed Natasha’s name, your body convulsing under the weight of your orgasm as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in Natasha’s arms. Natasha continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm with rough, powerful movements that extended the pleasure until you thought you might pass out from the intensity.

Natasha’s own orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking as she buried herself deep inside you, her orgasm hitting her with a force that left her gasping for air. For a moment, you were both lost in the intensity of your climax, your bodies trembling in the aftershocks. When Natasha finally pulled out of you, she collapsed beside you, pulling you into her arms with a tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the roughness of her earlier actions. You were still catching your breath, your body tingling from the aftereffects of your intense encounter.

Natasha looked down at you, her expression softening as she brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice now filled with gentle concern. You smiled up at her, your heart still racing, but filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. “More than okay..” you whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Natasha’s lips.

Natasha returned the kiss, this one slow and tender, filled with the unspoken promise of many more moments like this. As you lay there, in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that you had crossed a linem, one that had been waiting far too long to be crossed by the two of you. And now that you had, there was no going back.

[amkyor]

Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY

Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.

Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!

Distance Between Us:

It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.

The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.

He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.

Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.

You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"

"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."

You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."

But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.

You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.

---

Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.

It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.

You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.

But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.

Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."

Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."

He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It��s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."

You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."

He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.

---

Another day came, and he did the same.

Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.

One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.

You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.

"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.

He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."

He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."

"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.

---

Then, of course, came another.

One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.

You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.

"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"

"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"

Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.

You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.

---

In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.

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The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.

You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.

Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.

It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.

His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.

You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.

So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.

The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.

Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.

A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.

You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.

Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.

He was home.

You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.

Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.

The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.

You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.

His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.

You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.

The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.

You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.

Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.

The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.

You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.

Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.

The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.

His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.

His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.

The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.

Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.

His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.

You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.

But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.

Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”

“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”

The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.

He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.

The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.

Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.

His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.

A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.

“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.

As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.

Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.

Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.

You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.

Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.

He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.

As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.

You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.

This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.

He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.

At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.

Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.

“Can I go too?”

Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.

For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.

Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.

Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.

It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”

Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.

Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.

Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.

As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.

He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.

“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.

Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.

The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.

The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.

But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.

Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.

The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.

You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.

Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.

Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.

As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.

The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.

You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.

Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.

His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.

The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.

He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.

It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.

But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.

He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.

The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.

His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.

The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.

You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.

The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.

As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.

His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.

Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.

Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.

Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.

You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.

The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.

He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.

Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.

You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.

Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.

The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.

You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.

Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.

“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.

“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.

The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.

You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.

The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.

His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.

Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.

His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.

“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.

He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.

You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”

That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.

Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.

You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.

You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.

But “good” was all you got.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.

His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.

His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.

His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.

You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.

Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.

Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.

He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.

Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.

You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.

Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.

Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.

You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.

As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.

The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.

Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.

You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.

You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.

The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.

His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.

“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”

“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.

“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.

You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.

Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.

She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”

“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.

He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.

Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”

“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.

Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.

“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.

You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.

The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.

All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.

He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.

But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.

Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.

You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.

Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.

“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”

Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”

“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.

“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”

Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”

The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.

“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”

Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”

Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”

You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.

They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.

But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.

The truth was, things weren’t fine.

They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You glanced at him again.

He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.

It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.

Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.

You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.

So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.

---

An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.

Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.

Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”

Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”

You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.

It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.

The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.

Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.

The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.

As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.

The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Then, the pivotal scene arrived.

The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.

Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.

Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.

The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.

Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.

Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.

But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.

The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.

The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.

“I feel invisible to you.”

The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.

Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.

“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.

Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.

She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.

“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”

Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”

For a moment, you hesitated.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.

But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.

“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”

Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.

“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”

Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”

Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.

You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.

You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.

The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.

As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.

But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.

Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.

“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”

Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”

Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”

You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.

It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.

You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.

Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”

“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”

Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”

The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.

“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.

As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.

His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.

For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.

It wasn’t intentional.

On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.

But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.

But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.

He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.

He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.

And then came the confession.

You weren’t happy.

You felt ignored, neglected.

You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.

His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.

But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.

It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.

He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.

By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.

As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.

Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.

His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.

He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.

He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.

---

The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.

Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.

Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.

His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.

As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.

The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.

You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.

When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.

You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.

The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.

Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.

The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.

The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.

He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.

Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.

His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.

The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.

Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.

He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.

The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.

You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.

Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.

For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.

You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.

Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.

What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.

You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.

You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.

Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.

Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.

The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.

“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He wasn’t good with words.

Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.

His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.

The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.

He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.

After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.

His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.

His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.

You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.

Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.

His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”

You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”

“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”

His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.

He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.

The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.

For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.

Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.

“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”

His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”

Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”

The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”

The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”

Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.

“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”

The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.

“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”

But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.

For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.

Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.

Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.

“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.

He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.

“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.

Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”

His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”

But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.

Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.

You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.

“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.

He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.

Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.

Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.

His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

The admission startled you.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”

His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”

You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.

It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.

“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.

“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”

His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.

Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.

“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.

You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.

“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.

“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.

He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.

It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.

The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.

The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.

He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.

You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.

His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.

“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.

“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”

His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.

It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.

“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.

That was all you needed to hear.

A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.

After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.

Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.

“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.

It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.

When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.

You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”

In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.

A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.

ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𐬺

Summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: smut, blowjob, getting caught, cursing

Wc: 1014

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

“guys i dont want a new videographer, memo was the best and i dont think anyone could do what he did” chris says as he sits up from the couch

Nick rolls his eyes at chris’ comment. “chris you're gonna have to get over it because our new one is here in 15 minutes whether you like it or not.”

“maybe you will like him!” matt says trying to brighten the mood, but chris just scoffs and looks away

“matt what, you know its a girl right?” nick says looking at matt with a shocked expression

“really? Well thats good for a change of scenery i guess!” matt replies as he shrugs his shoulders

“this is dumb, i think i would rather stop filming content then get a new videographer”

“okay that is so dramatic get over yourself she’s here in probably 10 minutes now so put on a smile and dont be a bitch” nick snaps back

10 minutes later you arrive at their front door and hesitantly ring their door bell.

ding dong

“chris, how about you go and get the door because you're being such a whiny little baby” nick

“nick i swear to…okay ill do it.” chris sighs loudly as he walks downstairs towards their front door

Chris opens the door slowly to see the most gorgeous girl he has ever seen, the only thing hes thinking is all the things they can do together, but hes quickly taken out of his trance when y/n speaks up.

“hi im y/n! You must be… nick?” you say presumptuously

“h-hi yeah um nick.. I MEAN chris, yes, chris” “nice to meet you, y/n”

You chuckle “well lovley to meet you chris, would you like to take me upstairs to meet the other boys?”

“uhh YES of course i think they would love that” chris speaks up as he takes you upstairs to meet his brothers.

Chris is too stunned to speak properly, nick and matt meet you and they think you are great.

“sorry guys but it was kind of a long drive, would it be okay if i got some water please?”

“yeah no problem ill sort you out and give you a little tour of the place” matt replies walking in the direction of their fridge

“see chris, she doesnt seem bad at all, if anything she seems-”

“like my dream girl, yeah, i know, i dont know what to do” chris blurts out, feeling like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders from the confession.

“um so not what i was going to say but yeah okay! Your gonna have to hold all that in because i don't want you to fuck anything up and make it awkward” “oh god chris why are you sweating, you're gross go change” he says backing away from chris disgustedly

“i dont think that can happen nick but yeah ill get changed..” chris replies, aware of his sweaty clothes

Chris is opening his door with his top only half on

“shit! Oh hi sorry you gave me a shock.. How did you-” chris says as he slightly jumps back from his door frame

“matt said this was your room, i was just coming up to check it out, but that can wait for another time” y/n says apologetically “sorry I came up, that was dumb..”

“no it wasnt..” chris says reassuringly, slightly cutting her off

Your both standing there staring at eachother not knowing what to do, chris takes a slow step forward, you do the same, you continue looking at eachother until you hesitate.

“no, it was dumb, sorry, i will see you downstairs chris” y/n says quietly as she quickly walks away from chris

chris is left standing there wondering if he did anything wrong, guilt clouds his mind but he decides to make his way back upstairs all dressed.

“oh wow how nice of you to finally join us chris!” nick says whilst sarcastically clapping his hands

You are standing near the couch looking at him standing from the top of the stairs

“guys i need to go to the store to get some stomach medicine I'll be back” matt says grabbing his car keys

“matt are you kidding? Can your sore little stomach just wait?”

“no nick, it can't actually wait, that's why i am leaving now”

“god you are annoying, but i know you dont like driving alone so i will come…”

“arent you just a cutie!!” matt says jokingly and walks towards the door

“shut the fuck up or i am not coming, dont make it a big deal lets go”

Chris clears his throat “uhh so will me and y/n just like stay here” he speaks up

You both glance at eachother

“oh um yeah about that-” nick says quietly, only so matt can hear

“yes? What’s wrong with that? Whatever i am leaving now” matt

Nick stares at chris giving him a death stare as he leaves

The door shuts

Youre both sitting there awkwardly waiting for one of you to speak up

Chris breaks the silence “uh y/n… i am kinda sorry about before, i didnt mean to make things awkward”

“no, dont be sorry, i just didnt want your brothers to come up and see that.. But now they are gone.. So"

Chris swallows nervously as he looks at you with lust in his eyes

10 minutes later

All that can be heard from the living room is groaning and whimpering “mmph chris who knew in the first 30 minutes of knowing you i would be swallowing your dick” you say finally taking a breath

“youre good, a bit too good” chris says moaning “how many other guys have you done this to”

“well lets just say-”

Before you could answer you both here keys screwing into the front door, and faint talking from familiar voices

It opens

You are both staring at each other stuck on what to do as they hear footsteps coming up the stairs

“OKAY WHAT THE FUCK IT HAS BEEN 10 MINUTES CHRIS” nick says covering his eyes dramatically

divider credits @bernardsbendystraws

[propertyofwicked]

MISS YOU MOST ON THE WEEKEND - LN

MDNI !!

warnings: smut, porn no plot, throat fucking (im sorry, it had to be done?) - caitlin dont read this if u want to live together with no awkwardness pls pooky

very loosely based on 'weekend' by jonas blue <3

masterlist

“missed you s’much,” she said into lando’s mouth.

he’d not even made it through the door when y/n had heard the rustling of his keys and come running and jumping into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. his hands dropped his bags, moving to grab her and hoist her up.

his legs kicked the bags into the threshold of the door, turning the two of them to use her back to push the door closed, and pressing her deeper into it, never breaking contact between their lips.

“you missed me?” he mumbled against her, as they pulled back up for air, “i was only gone 4 days?”

“4 days too long.”

“i invited you to join me,” he replied with a shrug, letting her legs fall back to the floor yet leaving his hands gripping at her hips.

“you know i would’ve come if i could, lan.”

“i know,” he said before smirking, “so.. how much did you miss me?”

lando wasn’t sure what he expected from a comment like that, he definitely didn’t expect his girlfriend to press quick kisses to his jaw and neck before dropping to her knees in front of him. her hands made quick work of tugging at his joggers, looking up at him for any sign of hesitance. instead, he nodded shyly at her, taking a back at her sudden overtness. he helped her take off his trousers and painfully tight boxers, stepping out of them and kicking them to rest next to his abandoned bags.

y/n watched as his cock sprung up, hitting the bottom of his hoodie softly, her finger reaching out to trace the thick vein that ran along the shaft, the contact causing lando to whine quietly.

“don’t tease. you know what happens to girls that tease,” he warned, taking himself in his own hand, his thumb swiping pre-cum around his tip. she looked up at him, feigning confusion.

“i must’ve forgotten,” she said slyly, but continuing to lick a strip along the base of his cock. his hand let go of himself, moving to hold her jaw tightly. she looked up at him, seeing his eyebrow quirk up at her. her next move was to leave a trail of spit along his shaft before popping the tip in her mouth and swirling her tongue around.

it was all to slow for lando. having his cock in her mouth was not something he got to experience often, much preferring to dedicate his time between her legs, or inside her. he didn’t want to rush it, but he couldn’t stand the taunting way her lips were moving slowly, taking him in at a painful pace. his hips jutted forwards slightly, pushing the final length in her mouth. she coughed slightly, surprised more than anything, as his hands moved to scoop her hair up into a ponytail.

“you want me to do the work, angel? you want me to use your mouth?” he asked, taunting, a smile ghosting his face as he looked down at her. her mouth full, nose pressed up against his. she tried nodding, but his grip on her hair halted her movements. he pulled her head off him, watching as his cock flipped back up to his stomach, a line of spit still connected to y/n mouth.

“please,” she said finally, moving her hand up to his cock, thumb playing with the tip as he had earlier.

“yeah? deep breathe for me. tap my stomach if you need me to stop, ok?” he said, tone softening. even in situations he had full control over, lando made sure she knew there was an out, he needed her to know it could stop and he wouldn’t be upset with her if she did. she nodded up at him.

“need to here you say it, baby.”

“please, use me. ill tap you if i need you to stop,” she repeated, she never felt unsafe with him.

that’s all he needed to hear, before moving his hips, lining his cock up with her mouth and pushing himself back in. he let her bob her head around him a few times, getting herself adjusted before gripping her hair again, and thrusting into her mouth at a gentle pace. y/n's hands moved to grip his thighs, anchoring her in as his head rolled back slightly, a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of her tongue grazing the base of his cock.

“doing so good,” he groaned out, his free hand moving to stroke her jaw, thumb wiping a tear that rolled down her cheek, “taking me so well, angel.”

his words kind, his pace brutal. the tears didn’t concern him, he’d learnt it was purely from the strain on your face muscles, the first time it had happened he panicked that he had hurt her despite her reassurance that she was fine.

lando’s hips grew tired of thrusting into her, he could feel himself getting close. he moved to using his grip on her head to push her head down on him and pull her back off slowly, every time she neared the base, he could feel the air pushing out of her nose. he pulled her off him, letting her gasp for air, before pushing himself back between her lips, feeling her tongue glide against the veins of his cock.

“im close, baby - you wanna swallow it?” he asked, forgetting she couldn’t respond properly, she resorted to nodding as much as she could, and drawing a circle into his thigh.

his breath was quickening, his body hunching further as he got closer, his moans and praises becoming incoherent in his pleasure. his hand moved from her jaw to rest on the back of the door behind her, leaning forwards slightly and pushing himself fully into her throat. the sensation sent him over the edge, ropes of cum shooting down her throat. her mouth moved up and down his length a few more times before pulling herself off him, the back of her hand coming up to wipe the saliva and cum from her chin.

"think i need to leave you behind more often if that's the greeting i get," he joked, helping her off the floor and pressing a kiss to her lips.

"yeah, sorry about that," she joked back, "don't know what came over me," she added, laugh stifled by his mouth moving back to hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip lightly.

"now i need to show you how much i missed you."

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

hold on,hold on,Yandere!Conner Kent x reader🙏🏻

(sorry for bothering😭)

U ain't a bother and if anybody tells you that u do, then, they gonna face my pinky, my thumb and my fist they gonna run. 😼🐺🧏🏽‍♀️ nobody messes with my first ever anon 😠👊

Anyways

The night has fallen quietly over Metropolis, the cityscape softened under a blanket of stars. The world feels smaller somehow, contained within the walls of your apartment where Connor sits, angled slightly toward you, his gaze unwavering yet serene. He has that brooding, intense look—a mix of steel and tenderness—that you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his. It’s as though he’s carrying a burden, one he won’t let you see, and yet you feel its weight as if he’s drawn you into his orbit without permission.

“Connor,” you say softly, trying to break the quiet, “you’ve been… around a lot more lately.”

His eyes flicker, something shadowy dancing behind them, a vulnerability he usually keeps hidden. He doesn’t answer right away, just lets his gaze travel over your features as if memorizing every detail. The room feels charged, the air between you like the fine thread of a spider’s web—delicate and unbreakable all at once.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hushed but firm. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so wrong?”

There’s a faint, haunting cadence in his words, something raw and possessive yet laced with an almost tragic reverence. You feel the intensity radiating off him, a barely restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Nothing could happen to you,” he continues, almost to himself. “Not on my watch. I’d make sure of that.”

You’ve always known Connor’s protectiveness runs deep, but tonight, it feels like there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. An edge, a quiet desperation that clings to the room, thick as fog.

“Connor…” you say his name with a gentle tone, hoping it might pull him out of whatever dark place he’s retreating into. He’s so close now, leaning forward, his hand reaching out as if compelled by some invisible force. When his fingers graze your cheek, his touch is featherlight, as though he fears you’ll vanish.

“If I could keep you here,” he whispers, his tone taking on a dreamy, almost poetic quality, “locked away from the world… I would. Not because I want to take anything from you, but because I… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

It’s a confession wrapped in longing, and you see the truth of it in his eyes, where constellations seem to burn just for you. There’s something about his gaze that feels eternal, as if the universe itself has handed him the task of guarding you.

“You mean a lot to me,” he says finally, each word slow and deliberate, as though he’s trying to etch them into your soul. “More than you know.”

In that moment, his love feels like an uncharted ocean—beautiful and terrifying, with depths you’re not sure you’re ready to explore. But his sincerity anchors you, and, despite the intensity of his words, you can’t help feeling safe, cocooned in the quiet power of his devotion.

(A/n: is it just me or do you guys also feel suspicious of how I could post every day despite saying I'm too lazy to do so... Maybe my laziness hasn't kicked in yet which is weird and scary considering I'm writing dis rn in front of my 10 homework activities, and yes I am doing it last minute but so what...? I'm too lazy to do all of em and rn I'm don't know what I am talking about... I love yapping but I'm a introvert does it make me a extrovert when i talk too much but not as loud? Guys I'm turning crazy, I need someone to talk to and all my best friends are busy idk why they've been busy since last week....my gf is not replying for like 20 minutes now...im going crazy. Also sorry for spamming the Batfamily tag even though it's not the content I posted, I just feel like it's more famous than the others and also idk how to tag... Though mainly because I'm scared of being a flop hehe...)

[vershautece]

lu comforting u on your period (; <3 starts sfw then nsfw

you’d be cuddling in bed resting in between his legs, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, hands softly caressing your abdomen to soothe the dull ache. you’re watching something on TV to distract yourself from the discomfort, and lu’s pressing soft kisses up and down your neck. ‘is it getting any worse? let me know if it does, baby, and i’ll get the heating pad, ok?’ and he gives the side of your neck a slow, soft kiss

‘it’s more discomfort right now than serious pain, but thank you, luigi, i love you’ u reply, bringing one of his hands to your lips to press a couple soft kisses before placing it back down on your abdomen. ‘and i don’t want you to get me anything because then you’ll have to stop cuddling me while u go and get it - i don’t want you to move’ you laugh a little through the pain, and he laughs too against your neck

10 mins later you’re getting restless because it’s been an hour and your cramps still haven’t gone despite the ibuprofen u took as soon as they started. ‘lu…’ you moan from the pain

‘mhm?’ he murmurs against your neck - his kisses haven’t stopped since you’ve been cuddling. you grip his hand tight as you feel a particularly harsh cramp. ‘is it getting worse now?’ he asks you, shifting slightly to pull you up from in between his legs to sit on his thigh, turned to the side so you can see him. ‘bring your knees up to your chest and lean into me, ok?‘

you get into the fetal position and rest your head on his chest. ‘fuck, why do men not have to go through this’ u squeeze your eyes shut, jaw clenched as the pain continues. it’s still not excruciating like it can be, but it’s so so uncomfortable. luigi chuckles slightly at your words, and you snap your eyes back open to glare up at him. ‘don’t piss me off, luigi’

‘baby im sorry, i wasn’t laughing at the situation, you can hit me if you want’ he looks at u with a slight smirk on his face, and u roll your eyes and smile. ‘i don’t even have the energy to do that’ you sigh, shuffling further up his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck.

you both sit in silence for a couple mins, lu rubbing your back softly, while you bury your face in his neck. ‘hey, i know how i can make you feel better’ he whispers, but you don’t move from his neck. ‘princess’ he continues, leaning his head back from you a little and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘mmm? lu, i don’t want the heating pad because i’ll get too hot and i don’t want you getting out of the bed’ you complain, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter and snuggling further into him

‘sh, i’m not talking about the heating pad, beautiful. lay on your back’

‘luigiii, what are you talking about, i thought you said this was the best position’ you respond through exhausted sighs, refusing to move your head from his neck. he chuckles in your ear: ‘baby, listen to me. lay on your back, i promise you’ll feel better’

you lift your head from his neck finally to look up at him - he kisses your nose and gives u his signature smile, a teasing glint in his eye to which you’re oblivious. ‘whatever you say, sir’ you roll your eyes playfully, pulling yourself off of him and moving to lay on your back beside him.

he then shuffles down the bed further than you so he can rest his head on your chest, and he starts peppering soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, then the space in between your boobs that your low cut top displays. at the same time he’s caressing your stomach again, rubbing softly back and forth and massaging your waist and hips.

‘mmm, lui’ you start threading your fingers through his curls, and you’re becoming increasingly turned on by the wet sounds of his kisses and his soft hums against your skin. ‘baby, can you suck on my boobs? they’re so sore and i think it’ll take my mind off the cramps’

he looks up at you and smiles teasingly: ‘i was planning to, baby. that’s why i’ve got you on your back like this’ he lifts your top over your tits, you’re not wearing a bra and you take a deep breath in anticipation, your nipples are so sensitive right now. ‘don’t worry’ luigi presses more kisses around your chest area, ‘i always know what you want, princess. i know you’re sore, gonna make you feel better’ he whispers against your skin, before latching his tongue onto your right nipple.

‘aw, baby, thank you, mmm’ you continue caressing and playing with his curls as he looks after you, still rubbing softly on your abdomen. his tongue feels perfect licking over your nipple with every sucking motion, and his soft moans vibrate against you to increase the sensation. he attends to your right boob for about 5 minutes, the both of u letting out sweet moans and even though the pain of your cramps still won’t subside, he’s soothing you so well. he looks up at you, mouth still attached to your nipple, and flicks his tongue against it to watch your reaction as he does. ‘ohhh, god, luigi’ you whine as your face contorts in pleasure. he hums in satisfaction against you, and then pulls away to kiss your neck as his hand on your abdomen slowly starts slipping lower, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants. ‘gonna rub your clit, okay, baby? hm? need to give you an orgasm to get rid of those cramps. i know you’re horny, yeah? you feeling sensitive?’

‘mhm, lu, i’m so horny, i didn’t wanna say anything’ you throw your head back as he massages your tits one at a time and kisses that sweet spot in your neck.

‘i know, baby, i know, but you should tell me what you need - always gonna give it to you, mhm’ he murmurs against you as his hand slips underneath your sweatpants to rub you through your panties.

‘ohh, fuck yes, play with my clit baby’ you whine, so sensitive that the slightest touch is driving you crazy. your hands tangle in his hair, and he laughs into your neck: ‘i’m not even inside your panties yet beautiful, and you’re already moaning like this for me. so fuckin’ sensitive, huh?’

‘lu, shut up, i need your fingers on my clit’

he laughs softly again at your neediness: ‘why weren’t you this vocal an hour ago baby, you know how easily i can make you cum’

he brings his hand up to spit on his fore and middle finger, then slips inside your panties, and starts rubbing slow, delicate circles on your clit. you instinctively arch your back a little, moving your hips as he pleasures you. ‘yeah, that’s so good, oh, luigi, fuck baby’

‘want my mouth again? your tits are so swollen, dolcezza, mm’ he mutters against your nipple, without taking it in his mouth to tease u. ‘lu, don’t tease meee’ you whine, and instantly he starts sucking on you again, soft whines pulling from his own throat. his cock is straining, he’s been hard for a while but he’s so focused on pleasuring u that he accepts he’ll be cumming in his pants. his fingers are working faster on your clit now, the palm of his hand resting directly on your abdomen, like your own personal heating pad.

‘lu, i’m so close, mm, fuck, don’t stop’ you moan out, the pain of your cramps almost gone now from the impact of your arousal.

‘gonna cum for me baby? i’m close too, look down at my cock sweetheart. i’m so fucking hard, love sucking on these tits, mm’ as he’s sucking your right boob you’re massaging the left, and tugging at his curls so tight with your other hand.

‘oh yeah, i’m gonna cum, babyy, oh don’t stop, i love you’ you’re moaning so loud, hips rocking against the sheets as lu works his fingers impossibly faster, grunting against your boob so you can tell he’s close too.

‘my fingers making you feel so good, bellissima? just from rubbing your clit? that’s my girl, c’mon, let go for me, cum in your panties’

‘oh luigiiii, fuckkk, mmmm’ you whine and moan as you cum - he’s still sucking on you, and a few moments later his grunts get louder against you, followed by heavy breathing as he shuts his eyes and pushes his hips into the sheets. his fingers slow down on your clit, giving it a light smack that makes u squeal, before pulling his hand out of your panties and wrapping both arms around your waist, head on your chest.

‘so you came in your pants? i’m sorry’ you smirk down at him, and he rolls his eyes playfully. ‘i don’t care, i was looking after you, doesn’t matter about me’

there’s a short silence as you’re running your fingers through his curls, and you’re the next to speak. ‘lu’ - ‘mhm?’ - ‘um, do you think we could have sex tomorrow? like… i’m on my period but –’

‘if you’re comfortable with it, yeah, of course. i’ve already researched - um - about that before’ he blushes against your chest. ‘you have? well then you can show me what you know’ you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

‘yeah, i never brought it up because even though i knew it’d make you feel better i didn’t wanna overstep a boundary’

your heart flutters, and you cradle him further into your chest. ‘lu, you’re so sweet, you could’ve asked me if i would be okay with it’ you kiss his forehead, and he smiles against you.

a few moments pass, and he looks up at you from his position on your chest. ‘baby? y’know i was only sucking on one of your boobs, do you want me to do the same for the other one? is that one just as sore?’

you giggle in response: ‘luigi, no other guy in the world would give a fuck about that and that’s why i love you - i have the most perfect boyfriend in existence. you always look after me’

he blushes and smiles, burying his face into your neck. ‘great, i love you too, but what’s the answer to my question?’

‘yes the other one is just as sore but we can just go to sleep if you’re tired, baby’ you respond, but he shifts over to the other side of you to lean against your left boob instead: ‘it’s fine, i wanna look after you, this body is gonna carry my children one day’ he makes eye contact with u before starting to suck softly on your nipple.

you hum in content, caressing his neck and his back up and down. ‘luigi, i’m literally just on my period and my boobs are a little swollen, i can’t even imagine the level of concern from you when i have a human being growing inside of me’

he laughs against you, and caresses your stomach. ‘did the cramps go completely?’

‘yeah, they actually did’ you smile

‘see, it’s science’ he looks up at you, winking playfully before attending to your breast again <3 you both lie there for a while, and eventually shift positions so he’s spooning you with his hands on your stomach as you fall asleep <33

[evie-sturns]

Truth or Dare - Matt Sturniolo

-----------------------°°••....••°°------------------------

summary: an innocent game of truth or dare results in you losing your virginity to matt.

warnings: NSFW, swearing.

--------------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

"mattt.." i groan as my head rests on his lap. "you alright baby?" matt says quietly as he puts down his phone.

me and matt have been together for about 2 months, but we've never done anything sexually, ive never done anything sexually. im a total virgin and matt doesnt know.

"we should do something" i say sitting up on the couch and readjusting my ponytail. "like what?" matt says softly as he stands up "likee... truth or dare?" i say giggling and matt smiles at me "what are we, in 6th grade" matt says with a small laugh.

i stand up and drag matt to the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. matt sits down on the bed and i instantly crawl onto his lap, straddling him. "okay hmf, truth or dare?" i ask smiling and matt grins at me "truth? i dont know." he replies awkwardly "have you ever done anything illegal?" i say smirking and he doesn't reply. "matt..." i say dragging out the 'a' trying to hold back another laugh.

after a few rounds, matt starts to shift uncomfortably under me. i reposition myself on his lap and he groans "are you okay? am i too heavy sorry.." i say awkwardly "no- no..you just might need to get off" matt mumbles as i see his cheeks flush.

i realise whats happening, matts bulge is poking my ass. as soon i realise i jump off him and cover my face out of embarrassment. my grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my eyes. my cheeks go a deep red and he smiles at me, i see his eyes flick down to my lips and i smash my lips into his. he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap. he breaks for a second and grabs the hem of my shirt. "ca-can i?" matt asks and i dont fully understand what he means, but i agree to it. he pulls my shirt over my head, revealing my pink lacy bra. my eyes widen but i ignore it.

is this really happening? am i even ready? am i about to loose my virginity?

i go along with it, ill be fine. he unclasps my bra and his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. he is the first man to ever see my chest. he flips us over so im on my back, he looks down at me and puls down my shorts slowly, revealing my matching panties. "fuck your so perfect." matt grumbles. hes fully clothed but im only wearing my panties, its somewhat humiliating. he quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his dick springs out onto his stomach, its big. jesus christ its big.

he pulls my panties off and rubs his tip against my clit. he teases my entrance and my breathing becomes more frantic, why am i so scared? i feel a few tears roll down my cheek and matt gasps looking at me, insantly pulling away from me and yanking up his sweatpants. "hey, hey, are you okay?" he says shakily grabbing my cheek "sorry." i sniffle as i wipe my eyes. matt sits down on the bed and i sit up, he maintains a distance "dont cry, im so sorry can you talk to me please, whats going on sweetheart" he says gently and fidgets with his rings. i shuffle over and sit on his lap. his breath hitches in his throat as my naked body leans against him, but he plays it off as a cough. "just promise you wont judge me okay?" i say breaking the silence and he stambles "i would never judge you sweetheart." he says soothingly

"i know i havent told you but im a.. uh.. virgin." i whisper out and he nods understandingly "but i thought i was ready.. its not your fault i- i just uh. when you took your pants off it was.." i say quietly as i wipe my eyes "its big.. your dick is really big." i say with an embarrassed giggle. he just smiles at me "im sorry for taking it fast, i would've gone slow if i knew, your just so pretty i assumed youd done it." he says comforting me and rubbing my thighs "i wanna do it still though." i say quietly and he nods "o-okay!!" he says trying to hold back his excitement "do you wanna ask me questions before we start" he asks "well i did wanna know uhm, how many people have you fucked." i say softly "3 people, yeah uh.. three." he says i let out a sigh of relief "so your good at it??" i reply instantly and matt laughs rubbing his eyes "i guess?" he says embarrased and i get off his lap.

"can you talk me through it?" i ask laying back on the bed "yeah, okay sure!" he says positioning himself between my legs "im gonna have to stretch you out a little first okay? i dont want it to hurt." he says and i nod "just my middle finger, have you ever done this to yourself?" i shake my head "no.." and he just nods "okay thats fine!" he says "just relax okay." he says pushing his long middle finger all the way into me "your doing so good." he growls quietly thrusting it slowly in and out. "i'm gonna add another finger, and your gonna take it really well." he says pushing another finger into me.

this is a really new sensation, but it feels really good. it kind of burns though.

after a few minutes of him spreading his fingers apart inside of me he pulls both of his fingers out and i whine "baby your gonna get my cock, be patient." he says sternly and i nod quickly. he positions his tip at my entrance and i moan softly "such pretty noises." he mumbles as he pushes his tip just inside of me and pulls it back out, then pushes it in again. "so fucking tight oh my god." he whimpers as he pushes slightly more into me "im just gonna give you half okay?" he says sliding further into me and i let out a long moan. "its okay baby, hold my hand" he says reaching his hand out and gripping my sweaty palm.

"your only taking half, do you think you can take the rest of it?" he whispers in my ear "yeah- yes matt.." i say nervously and he slides all the way in, his tip kissing my cervix "so good for me baby." he says resting inside of me "so so perfect." he groans as he slides all the way out to his tip, then pushes all the way inside me again. "fuck.." he whimpers as he starts to thrust in and out faster "matt oh my god." i moan as he presses on my lower stomach with his free hand, so he can feel how deep he is inside of me. the stomach bulge is clear and its driving matt crazy. "your clenching baby, cum for me." he whispers "i- i dont know how to!!" i say loudly and he shushes me "yes you do, i know you can." he stays calm and i let out a loud moan before orgasming all over his length "goodd... fuck oh my fuck.. so good baby so so perfect." he whispers words of affirmation in my ears before abrubtly pulling out and cumming all over my tits "fuck fuck fuck.." he says quickly as he strokes his dick a few final times before collapsing next to me and grabbing my waist to pull me into a tight hug on the bed. "you did so well. so so well." he says in between heavy pants as my legs just shake.

"your legs are shaking, you sure your okay?"

"i-i just..." i can barely string together a sentence as my hole aches.

-------------------------°°••....••°°------------------

yall BETTER send me requests in my inbox PLEASE!!

[bimrwolf]

The Christmas Arrangement (Part 2)

steve harrington x fem!reader words: 10,009 warnings: SMUT SMUT ALERT!!!!!!! 18+ minors dni :P summary: Steve Harrington thought asking his stubborn intern to play his girlfriend for the holidays would be simple. But "pretend" starts to get a little complicated when moments feel a little too real. a/n: sor maybe this will be more than 2 parts.... not betad and a little rusty on my writing still lmaooo i know...no real slow burn but steve and reader got a little impatient im sorry!!! Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You woke slowly, the soft light of morning streaming through the curtains. The warmth of the bed was almost lulling you back to sleep when you noticed it—the weight around your waist.

Your eyes opened fully, and your breath hitched. Steve’s arm was draped over you, his hand resting lightly against your hip. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest at your back, the soft puff of his breath against the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. The room was quiet save for the faint creak of the house settling, and it struck you how peaceful Steve looked—his usual tension smoothed away in sleep.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. People shifted in their sleep all the time. But as you carefully slid out from under his arm, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced.

When Steve stirred, mumbling something unintelligible, you quickly turned your back, pretending to rummage through your bag. 

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. You hated how… adorable his voice sounded in the morning. 

“Morning,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the clock on the nightstand. If he noticed the earlier proximity, he didn’t mention it, and you weren’t about to bring it up.

“You sleep okay?” Steve asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Uh, yeah. Like a baby,” you said, pulling out a sweater from your bag.

He watched you carefully and you hated how he made you feel. You didn’t exactly hate that he was watching you. You peeked over your shoulder, and he pretended to yawn. “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

He grunted in reply, standing up, stretching his arms up. You hadn’t really paid attention that he had put on sweatpants and a cotton shirt. It hiked up just a bit, and you felt your cheeks burn from seeing a sliver of his happy trail. Jesus. You hoped the water in the shower was scalding to cleanse you from the thoughts swarming through your mind. 

This was all because of being close to him. It didn’t mean anything. It was like stupid biology that your lady parts were screaming for attention. 

After your shower, you came out and guessed Steve was downstairs because he wasn’t in his room. You were grateful. You had remembered how uncomfortable the bra you were wearing was, and since there was no sign of him, you made the executive decision to change. 

You stripped from your sweater and took off your bra, stuffing it back in the suitcase so you wouldn’t get it out again. You grabbed the one you wore yesterday. As soon as you went to put it on, the door to Steve’s bedroom opened. 

Steve walked in, shirtless, dripping in sweat. “Is the shower free—” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes bulging out of his sockets. He quickly turned around. “Jesus Christ…” His tone was indecipherable. 

You squealed, quickly putting on your bra and sweater. You didn’t even protest that he hadn't knocked. It was his room. He probably didn’t think that you would be half naked in the middle of it. You stood there a moment to collect yourself. 

Your head tilted. Since when has Steve been so… toned? His back muscles glistened. It took everything in you not to step forward and drag your finger down the crease of his back. “Uh… it’s safe. Sorry about that.” 

Steve hesitantly turned around, not looking you in the eye as he scrambled to get into his bathroom. You almost laughed when you heard the click of the lock. 

You were downstairs for forty-five minutes until Steve joined you, still not meeting your gaze. You smirked. You had unintentionally gotten under his skin. The best Christmas gift you have ever gotten. 

“My mom is in town. Tomorrow is this big Christmas auction gala she organizes for the community.” He grabbed a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator. 

“Oh, so we have the entire house to ourselves?” You made sure your tone was suggestive. 

He looked up, already flustered. “Shut up.” 

You smirked. “Oh come on. I didn’t think you’d be so worked up about seeing boobs.” 

“You’re my employee. Of course I’m worked up about seeing your…” he trailed off, taking a sip of his orange juice. “Can we just drop it. I didn’t see much anyway.” 

Your face fell. “Geez. Way to make a girl feel insecure,” you mumbled. 

Steve ran a hand over his face. There was that small unintelligible word that sounded too close to your name which came out of his mouth. “Have you always been this obnoxious? Was I drunk when I hired you?” 

You reached over and patted him gently on the cheek. “I think I was wearing that skirt.” 

He didn’t like that because he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you alone. 

The Harrington house was quiet after Steve stormed out, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. You lingered in the kitchen for a moment, replaying the earlier exchange in your mind. 

Something about this morning had felt… different. Maybe it was the intimacy of waking up so close to him, or the way his voice had softened when he said your name under his breath. Either way, the air between you had shifted, and it left you feeling restless.

With no clear destination in mind, you wandered through the house, letting your curiosity guide you. The walls were lined with family photos, some faded and slightly crooked, others newer and perfectly framed. There were a lot of Diane—her vibrant smile unmistakable in every shot. But it was the few photos of Steve that caught your attention.

You looked at the one you saw yesterday. He looked about eighteen, wearing a Hawkins High basketball jersey and holding a trophy with an exaggerated grin. His hair was bigger than you thought humanly possible, curling in wild waves that practically defied gravity. You snorted, biting back a laugh.

The hallway opened up to a dimly lit room, the door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. It was an office—clearly one that hadn’t been used in a while. Dust clung to the edges of the wooden desk, and the faint smell of leather lingered in the air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and old knickknacks that spoke of someone who had once cared deeply about appearances.

As you walked further in, your eyes landed on the desk. A single picture frame sat on top, the glass slightly smudged. You picked it up, the image of a younger Steve catching your attention immediately. He was maybe eight or nine, sitting on a couch with a man who had to be his father. The resemblance was uncanny—the same sharp jawline, the same hazel eyes. But where Steve’s gaze held an openness, his father’s was piercing, almost cold.

“Figured you’d end up in here.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the photo. Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wasn’t angry—if anything, he looked resigned, like he’d been expecting this.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, setting the photo back down. “I was just… exploring.”

Steve shrugged, stepping inside. “It’s fine. No one really comes in here anymore.”

You watched him carefully as he moved to the desk, his hand brushing against the edge like he was grounding himself. His eyes flicked to the photo, softening in a way you didn’t expect.

“Your hair used to have its own zip code.” You smiled. 

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh, his lips twitching. “Yeah. Mom called it my ‘fluff phase.’”

You grinned, leaning against the desk. “It’s impressive. I’m surprised you didn’t get recruited for shampoo commercials.”

“Missed my calling,” he muttered. Then he did something strange. He smiled at you. 

You glanced around the room, your curiosity piqued. “Was this your dad’s office?”

Steve nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Yeah. He spent most of his time in here when he was home.”

“When he was home,” you echoed softly.

Steve hesitated, his gaze dropping to the desk. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say anything more. But then he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Christmas was… one of the few times he actually made an effort,” Steve said, his voice low. “I remember this one year—I think I was, like, ten. I’d gotten sick right before Christmas Eve. Just a cold or something, but I was miserable.”

You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt.

“My mom wanted to cancel all our plans,” Steve continued, his jaw tightening slightly. “But my dad wouldn’t hear it. Said the Harringtons didn’t ‘sit out’ Christmas, even for the flu.”

You frowned, your chest tightening at the thought.

“But then,” Steve said, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips, “on Christmas morning, he came into my room. Had this stupid Santa hat on and everything. He brought me hot chocolate, sat on the floor, and just… stayed there with me. We watched movies all day. Mom kept checking in, but he told her not to worry.”

Steve’s smile faded slightly, his gaze distant. “I think that’s the last time I remember him actually being… present. Like he wasn’t thinking about work or his image. Just… me.”

The weight in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself wishing you could say something to take it away. But you knew better than to offer empty platitudes.

“That sounds like a good memory,” you said softly.

Steve nodded, his hand brushing over the edge of the desk again. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the only sound the faint creak of the house settling. Then Steve straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anyway,” he said, his tone shifting back to something lighter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You arched an eyebrow, folding your arms. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, though his tone betrayed him. “It’s just… usually today, I go to this Christmas party. My friends host it every year.” 

“And since Robin’s probably already told them about us… it’d be easier if I came.” You said matter of fact. 

He shrugged. “S’okay if you don’t wanna. I know that’s a lot more than you signed up for. And it’s more people we’d have to lie to. But my mom will wonder why you didn’t go and—”

“Okay.” You replied. A small smile fixed on your lips. You weren’t going to tell him that you were going to say yes once he brought it up. Nor were you going to tell him that him stumbling, avoiding your gaze, was cute. You stared at him for a moment. “What time?” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seven.”

You looked at the clock. You had plenty of time but you didn’t want to end up going empty handed. 

The kitchen hummed with the soft sound of the oven preheating, the scent of cocoa powder and sugar already wafting in the air as you pulled out the ingredients for brownies. Steve leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused expression, arms crossed. His guardedness had melted somewhat, replaced by a warmth that was… nice. Too nice, if you let yourself think about it for too long.

“So, what’s the plan here?” he asked, nodding to the growing pile of ingredients. “You’re just going to wing it?”

You shot him a look. “Winging it is an art form. You wouldn’t understand.”

Steve snorted, pushing off the counter. “Right. Because following a recipe is such a niche skill.”

You grinned, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl with exaggerated precision. “You’re welcome to help, Mr. Harrington. Or are you going to just stand there and look pretty?”

“Pretty?” he shot back, stepping closer. His eyes sparkled as he grabbed the whisk from your hand.

“I said annoying.” You tried to correct yourself. 

“No, I’m sure you said pretty.” He said in a sing-song tone. 

You looked up at him, gawking at how different the Steve Harrington was standing right next to you to the Steve Harrington you knew twenty-four hours ago. “You misheard.”

“Did I? Then why are you blushing?” He teased. 

“I am not.”

Steve chuckled, nudging you. “Move over. Let a professional show you how it’s done.”

“Professional? When’s the last time you baked anything?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve smirked, starting to whisk the eggs and sugar together. “Does it count if I helped Robin make cookies once? By ‘help,’ I mean I ate the dough.”

“That’s what I thought,” you said, nudging him aside with your hip. “Here. Hold the bowl steady.”

Steve did as you asked, holding the mixing bowl while you dumped in the cocoa powder. A small cloud of chocolate puffed up, and you both coughed, laughing.

“Great job, chef,” he teased, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, try aiming for the bowl?”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, brushing a streak of cocoa off your wrist. “Mix it.” 

You tried not to stare at how his forearms flexed as he mixed the batter. ”You’re not mixing,” you said, stepping closer and pointing at the bowl. “You’re obliterating. Look at it—there’s no love in that batter. You’re supposed to fold it.”

Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Fold it? How do you fold a liquid? That makes no sense.”

“It’s not a liquid,” you countered, sliding next to him. “And if you don’t fold it, the brownies won’t be fluffy. Here, give me the whisk.”

He pulled the bowl closer to his chest like a petulant child. “I’ve got this.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “No, you don’t. Let me—”

But before he could protest, you grabbed his hands where they gripped the whisk. He froze, the heat of his palms bleeding into yours as you guided him.

“Okay,” you said, ignoring the way your heart did a tiny flip at the closeness. “Watch. Around the edges, and then through the middle. See? Gentle. Like this.”

Steve tilted his head, watching your hands guide his through the motion. “You’re not even doing anything. This is the same thing I was doing.”

“Uh, no,” you said, glaring up at him. “What you were doing was creating batter soup. This is how you fold. It’s all in the wrist. Look—soft, smooth motions.”

He mimicked your movements hesitantly, his frown softening into something closer to concentration. “So… like this?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Just don’t overdo it. You want to mix just enough to combine everything without killing the air.”

Steve glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “Killing the air? You’re making this sound way more dramatic than it is.”

“Well, if you want good brownies…” you teased, not letting go of his hands.

“I didn’t realize baking came with a lecture,” he shot back, though his voice was quieter now, softer.

You looked up at him, realizing just how close you were. His face was mere inches from yours, and for a moment, you forgot what you were supposed to be doing.

“Got it?” you asked after a beat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve cleared his throat, pulling his hands back carefully but keeping his eyes on you. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it.”

You stepped back, letting Steve take over the folding, but your gaze lingered longer than it should have. His hands moved with surprising care now, each motion deliberate, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

The soft light from the kitchen window caught on his hair, a mess of chestnut waves that managed to look both effortless and infuriatingly perfect. His jawline, sharp and dusted with just a hint of stubble, tensed with focus, and his lips—why were you noticing his lips?—were slightly parted, as if he was lost in the rhythm of the task.

He wasn’t just the boss who annoyed you at work or the guy with the quick comebacks and perpetual smug grin. He was… striking, in a way that made it hard to look away. 

The warmth in his hazel eyes when he glanced at you, the easy laugh he’d let out earlier—it all felt disarmingly genuine, and it left you feeling unsteady, like you’d lost your footing on solid ground.

What the hell was wrong with you? This was Steve. The guy who once called you “relentlessly stubborn” after a client meeting and smirked when you’d glared at him. You weren’t supposed to notice how his t-shirt clung to his shoulders or how the veins in his forearms stood out when he gripped the whisk. 

You weren’t supposed to think about how close his hands had felt under yours or how the faint smell of his cologne—something warm, woodsy, and distinctly him—seemed to linger in the air between you.

“Earth to you,” Steve said suddenly, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. He tilted his head, catching your eye with a teasing smirk. “You’re staring. Should I be worried?”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “No. I was just—” You gestured vaguely at the batter, your voice coming out higher than you intended. “You’re doing it wrong again.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. He just grinned, the kind that made your stomach do an annoying little flip. “Whatever you say, Chef.” He handed you the bowl back. 

As you poured it into the pan, Steve leaned against the counter again, watching you with a small smile. “You’re not bad at this,” he admitted.

“High praise,” you said, smirking. “From a guy whose contribution has been… holding a bowl.”

Steve stepped closer, picking up a spoon to taste the batter. He dipped it in, taking a bite, and hummed thoughtfully. “Not bad. A little more sugar, though.”

You swatted at his hand as he reached for the sugar jar. “It’s fine the way it is!”

He shrugged, stepping back to give you space, though his grin lingered. As you continued to pour the batter into the pan, Steve stepped forward, brushing past you to grab a towel. “You’ve got something,” he said, gesturing to your face.

“Where?” you asked, trying to wipe at your cheek.

“Here,” Steve said, his voice softer now. He reached out, his thumb brushing just below your lip, and you froze.

Before you could process the moment, he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking off the batter absentmindedly.

Your brain short-circuited.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, turning back to the counter like nothing had happened. He made a distinguished sound that embarrassingly made a spot in your stomach heat up. His eyes rolled back. “This is heavenly,” he said casually, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

You blinked, your pulse racing. “Uh… thanks?”

The moment hung in the air for a beat too long, but neither of you addressed it. Instead, you slid the pan into the oven, your movements more deliberate as you tried to regain your composure.

By the time you arrived at the party, the brownies tucked safely in your arms, the house was already buzzing with life. Warm light spilled from the windows, and you could hear laughter and holiday music drifting through the crisp night air.

Steve opened the door, ushering you inside. You barely had time to take in the garlands, twinkling lights, and festive decorations before a familiar voice called out.

“Harrington!”

Robin appeared, beaming as she made her way over. She grabbed Steve by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “I knew you’d bring her!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his tone. His hand casually fell on the small of your back. You smiled to yourself, leaning into his touch. 

Robin turned to you, her grin widening. “Glad you came.” 

”Thanks for having me.” You lifted the pan. “We brought brownies”

Robin smiled. “You’re a baker?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but Steve interjected. “They are probably the best damn brownies I’ve ever had.” 

You rolled your eyes. “He hasn’t even had one yet. All he did was lick the spatula.” 

“Not true. I folded it like you asked.” 

“Barely, it looked like you were auditioning for The Great Destroyer of Brownies.” 

“But they came out perfectly fine. So I must have done something right.” 

It was like you two had even forgotten Robin was there. You were looking at each other. Your faces only inches apart, playing a silent game of whoever smiles first, lost. 

“Geez, get a room you two. I’ll take the brownies before you get freaky.” Robin’s face was twisted like she had eaten something sour. She took the pan from you, walking away into the house.

You thought Steve would take his hand off you, but instead he guided you further inside until you both were at the entrance of the living room. He must have seen how nervous you were at the sight of not only a couple of friends, but more than a handful. His hand moved across your back and rested on your waist. 

“Steve!” Everyone cheered in unison. Their eyes immediately drew to you. 

“I thought Rob was lying,” a petite girl with long brown hair said. “I guess she did. She said you were pretty but that’s an understatement.” She walked closer to you and you recognized her from a picture hanging at Steve’s house. “I’m Nancy.” 

You smiled shyly, introducing yourself to her. She then hugged Steve, and you couldn’t help but feel some sort of jealousy as he held onto her a little longer. She turned back to you. “Do you drink?” 

“Uh… occasionally.” You replied. 

Nancy linked her arm with yours, looking up at Steve with a toothy grin. “‘Scuse me, but I’m going to steal your girlfriend. Make yourself at home.” 

You gave Steve a look you had never given him before. A sad puppy dog face, eyes round, eyelashes fanning as you blinked. Steve’s smirk made your stomach flip as Nancy dragged you into the kitchen. Robin followed. 

They were talking about some person named Jane… and that she was eleven? You weren’t sure. All you picked up was she was in Indianapolis with a boy named Mike and the family was leaving after the auction to spend Christmas there. 

You hugged yourself, feeling overwhelmed. You listened, nodding along to the conversation. Nancy looked over at you, handing you a cold beer with a warm smile, tilting her head slightly as if to include you in their conversation. “Here.” 

You took it with a quiet “Thanks,” gripping the bottle just to have something to do with your hands. The kitchen was alive with conversation, Robin perched on the counter while Nancy leaned against the island. They volleyed stories back and forth, mentioning names you barely recognized—Jonathan, Jane, Hopper. Their shared history was palpable, a comfortable rhythm you weren’t sure how to fit into.

Nancy must’ve noticed, because she turned to you, her smile softening. “So, how long have you and Steve been together?”

You froze, fumbling with the bottle in your hand. The words felt too big in your throat, but before you could even attempt to answer, Robin cut in with a mischievous grin. “Fairly recent.” 

Nancy's eyes widened in surprise. “And he brought you home for Christmas? That wasn’t meant to sound rude. He just hasn’t brought anyone around since…” she trailed off, taking a sip of her drink. 

You bit the inside of your cheek nervously, unsure what to say. 

“Oh, you know Steve,” Robin said, kicking her feet playfully against the cabinets. “When he falls, he falls hard. I give it six months before they’re picking out curtains.”

Nancy laughed lightly, but her gaze stayed on you, curious. “You must be pretty special,” she said.

Special? That wasn’t exactly the word you would’ve used. You managed a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. “He’s, uh, full of surprises,” you said, which was at least half true.

Robin snorted into her drink. “Yeah, surprises. Like when he thought putting a bike together meant duct-taping it until it stopped rattling. Romantic and handy.”

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing a fraction. Nancy smiled too, and for the first time, the air felt a little less heavy. You took a sip of your beer, the coldness grounding you.

“So,” Nancy said, leaning in conspiratorially, “how did Steve get you to put up with him? He’s charming, sure, but that only gets him so far.”

Before you could think of a response, Robin piped up again. “I’ll tell you how—she’s a saint. That’s the only explanation. And a really good liar.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between you and Robin. “Liar?”

You opened up your mouth, but Robin interrupted. “That she isn’t totally in love with him.” 

You froze. In love? You barely knew him. “I—“ you couldn’t even disagree. I mean it would sound weird to say you didn’t like him while dating him. The entire lie would be for nothing. Your mouth went dry. 

Your heart stuttered at Robin’s words. The idea seemed absurd at first. You barely knew Steve outside the confines of work—and even then, most of your interactions had been steeped in teasing, bickering, and stolen glances. But the longer you sat with it, the less certain you felt about brushing it off. Because if you were honest with yourself, there had always been something about him—something you didn’t dare acknowledge until now.

You thought back to those late nights in the office, when the hum of the city faded and it was just the two of you, working side by side. How he always remembered the way you took your coffee, even when you changed it up without warning. 

The way he never let you leave without walking you to your car, muttering some excuse about safety as if he wasn’t the one watching over you. Even the way he poked at your stubbornness during meetings wasn’t cruel—it was almost… playful, like he liked seeing you riled up. 

And you remembered how, after every disagreement, he always found a way to smooth things over, slipping a comment or a smirk that left you reluctantly smiling despite yourself.

Maybe you’d been fooling yourself all along. Because in between the quips and banter, in the quiet moments where his guard slipped and you saw the person beneath the bravado, your feelings had crept in, unnoticed but deeply rooted. You’d just been too scared—or too stubborn—to admit it. Maybe you were in love. 

The three of you walked into the living room. Nancy walked over to an empty space between a lanky, short haired boy, and another man who looked strikingly similar to the boy. He smiled at Nancy, putting his arm around her. 

You noticed the ring on his finger and realized hers. You hated to admit the relief you felt that they were married and her and Steve were just good friends. Steve. He sat on a cushioned chair, smiling at you. 

You moved closer to him, handing him a beer you had grabbed before you left the kitchen. He thanked you and when you went to sit on the ground, he grabbed your arm and pulled you gently into his lap. “This okay?” He asked, low enough in your ear so no one else could hear. He was making sure, remembering the deal. You had final say in all PDA unless absolutely necessary. 

Why did you feel so shy? You nodded bashfully, looking away so he couldn’t see your face heat up. His arm snaked carefully around you, his palm resting on your stomach. It felt normal. But then again, this was exactly how it felt this morning.  

Except now, you felt heat grow in between your legs as he gently pushed you so your back was flushed against his chest. He took a swig of his beer, drunk on smugness. What an asshole. 

You wanted to kiss his smirk off his face. 

And you did. You gently kissed the corner of his mouth, like a whisper. He didn’t push you off. His eyes glimmered and sparked with a sudden firework exploding in his irises. His grip became tighter.

“Oh my god, Steve. You’re down bad.” A chubby, curly haired boy that looked the same age as the one on the couch with Nancy and her husband. 

“Alright man, tell us how you guys met.” A man with a buzzcut said. He was sitting on the ground criss-crossed. “I’m Eddie by the way.” 

You began, “Oh we met at work—”

Steve cut you off mid-sentence, his voice warm and teasing but laced with something that made your chest tighten. “Oh, come on,” he said, his arm shifting slightly around your waist. “That’s way too boring. Let me tell it.”

You glanced up at him, your brows knitting in surprise. His smirk was firmly in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that caught you off guard.

“Alright,” Eddie said, his grin wide as he leaned forward. “Let’s hear it, Harrington. Lay it on thick.”

Steve rolled his eyes but chuckled. “So,” he began, glancing down at you like he was gauging your reaction. “She came storming into the office on her first day, looking like she was ready to fight someone. Hair all windblown, heels clicking loud enough to wake the dead—”

“I was not storming,” you interjected, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You absolutely were,” Steve shot back, grinning. “And then she marched right up to me, handed me a coffee—black, no sugar, just how I like it—and said, ‘If you’re the guy who hired me, then this better be worth it.’”

Robin snorted from across the room, nearly choking on her drink. “She did not.”

“Oh, she did,” Steve said, nodding solemnly. “No ‘hi,’ no ‘nice to meet you,’ just straight to business. And, honestly? I was impressed.”

You felt your cheeks heat as everyone chuckled, their attention fully on Steve. “It wasn’t that dramatic,” you muttered.

Steve’s grin widened, his hazel eyes sparkling as he leaned closer. “It was. And she’s late, by the way. Not just a couple minutes late—fifteen minutes late.”

Nancy snorted from her spot on the couch, and Robin outright cackled from her perch in the corner. Eddie’s eyes were wild like he was watching the most entertaining movie. The other two boys were trying not to laugh. 

Steve ignored them. “Anyway we go to the conference room to begin her new hire orientation. She sits down, doesn’t even bother with the whole ‘sorry I’m late’ excuse. Just looks right at me, raises an eyebrow, and says—” he turned to you now, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “‘Am I in your seat, boss?’”

Laughter rippled through the group, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh, but you did,” Steve shot back, his grin widening. “Like you were challenging me. And you weren’t wrong—you were in my seat. But I let it slide because, well…” He glanced down at you, his tone dropping an octave. “I couldn’t stop staring.”

The air seemed to shift with his words, the playful banter dipping into something deeper, quieter. The teasing smile faded from his lips, and for a moment, the room around you seemed to fade too. It was just Steve, looking at you like he was still that guy in the conference room, seeing you for the first time all over again.

“I didn’t stand a chance,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing small, absentminded circles on your stomach. “From that first day, I was done for. And then, for the next few weeks, she basically ran circles around me—fixing my mistakes, arguing with me over every little thing, making me feel like an idiot in the best possible way.”

“Well,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were insufferably arrogant.”

Steve grinned, the warmth in his gaze only intensifying. “Insufferably arrogant, huh? And now?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words as the room seemed to blur around you. All you could focus on was the way Steve’s thumb had started tracing slow, idle circles against your stomach, his hold on you steady and unshakable.

Eddie groaned dramatically, breaking the spell. “Alright, lovebirds, we get it. You’re disgustingly into each other. Someone pass me a beer before I die from secondhand swooning.”

The room burst into laughter, and you shook your head, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned. Steve just chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple in a way that felt too natural, too easy.

But as his hold on you tightened and his breath brushed your skin, you realized you weren’t sure you wanted him to let go.

Steve’s smile faltered slightly, though the warmth in his eyes didn’t waver. He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the beer in his hand, as if weighing whether to continue. You tilted your head, sensing the shift, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, his thumb traced idle patterns along the glass bottle, his voice quieter when he spoke again.

“There’s… another reason I remember that day so clearly,” Steve said, his tone carrying an unexpected weight. The group quieted, their teasing falling away as they noticed his change in demeanor.

“It was…” He cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, his expression softer now. “It was the anniversary of when my dad passed.”

Your breath caught, the words settling heavily between you. Steve rarely talked about his dad—you’d picked up that much in the short time you’d spent with his family. And now, hearing it like this, you understood why.

Nancy’s face softened, her eyes flickering with something like recognition. Robin leaned forward slightly, her usual smirk replaced by concern.

“It was one of those days where everything felt… heavy,” Steve continued, his grip on the bottle tightening. “I didn’t even want to come into the office. But I knew if I stayed home, I’d just sit there, thinking about everything I couldn’t change. So I showed up. And then…” He smiled faintly, glancing down at you. “Then she walked in.”

You felt your heart twist, a strange mix of guilt and gratitude welling up inside you. Guilt for not knowing, for not realizing what that day had meant to him. And gratitude, because somehow, you’d been there—not knowing, but there all the same.

“She had this energy,” Steve said, his voice a little steadier now. “Like she didn’t care about anything or anyone, but not in a bad way. It was more like… she had her own gravity, and she didn’t need anyone else to pull her along. And for some reason, that made everything feel… lighter.”

Your cheeks flushed, the vulnerability in his words catching you off guard. You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, hoping he could feel the silent support in your presence.

“And yeah,” Steve added, his smile turning crooked again, “she spent most of that first week telling me I was wrong about everything.”

The tension in the room eased, laughter bubbling up around you. His gaze flickered back to you briefly. 

There was something unspoken in his eyes, something that made your stomach flip and your heart ache at the same time. 

And for the first time, you wondered if Steve’s words weren’t just about the past. If, maybe, he was talking about now—about how much you’d started to mean to him in ways neither of you were ready to say aloud.

***

Steve had to practically drag you out of Nancy and her husband’s (you learned his name was Jonathan after having to embarrassingly ask for his name. Along with his brother, Will, and their friend Dustin) house. You all talked and they all gave you embarrassing stories of Steve. 

You also learned he had dated Nancy at one point, but when the group told you, he held you a little softer. You tried to ask how they all became friends, but there was something in their tone of voices that let you know it wasn’t time for you to know. Maybe it had to do with the scar on Eddie’s cheek. 

Steve was silent, hands in his pocket as he walked with you to his car. He opened the door for you and you looked over your shoulder. You wanted to play the gesture off that he didn’t want it to be suspicious if they were looking out the window, but they weren’t. The only sound on the way back to his house was the hum of the radio. Steve’s arm rested at his side as his other hand was on the steering wheel. 

You kept looking at his free hand. Dangerous thoughts slipping into your mind as you wonder what it would be like to hold it. Or what it would feel like if he placed it on your thigh. Or if he touched you… good grief, get a hold of yourself. It was all pretend. Everything that you said and did was all fake. 

He pulled up to his house. His mother’s car was still gone. 

You barely had time to blink as he scrambled out of the car, shutting the door, coming to your side. He opened the door slowly, his body leaning against the car as you got out. Your breathing became slow as you felt the heat of his body when he reached to close the door. His eyes burned into you, only on you when he did so. 

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming in your ears as Steve stepped back just enough to let you move past him. The heat of his gaze didn’t waver, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might say something—something that would shatter the fragile boundary you’d been clinging to all night.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned toward the house, his hand brushing your lower back as he guided you toward the door. The touch was light—barely there—but it lingered, sparking warmth that crawled up your spine and settled somewhere deep in your chest.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice low, almost tentative.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your throat tightened. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Steve didn’t press further. He unlocked the door, holding it open for you as you stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingering from the holiday decorations.

“You want something to drink?” Steve asked, flipping on the light in the kitchen as you wandered toward the living room.

You shook your head, dropping onto the couch and slipping off your shoes. “I’m good, thanks.”

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, his hand braced against the frame as he looked at you. The soft glow from the kitchen light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

“You were great tonight,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “With my friends.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I… thanks. They’re great. And they clearly care about you a lot.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. They’re like family. Dysfunctional as hell, but family.”

There was something unspoken in his words. You opened your mouth to ask, but he pushed off the doorway before you could, walking over to the couch and sinking down beside you.

“They like you,” Steve said, his hand resting on his knee as he leaned back slightly. “I could tell.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Even Dustin? He seemed pretty skeptical.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Dustin’s skeptical of everyone at first. He’ll come around. Trust me.” 

The way you both were talking… it put an ache in your chest. Why did it matter if they liked you? “I wish I could be real friends with them.”

He tilted his head. “I mean I don’t see why not.” He said it so innocently. 

“Because friends don’t lie,” you answered. 

He snorted, leaning his head back, whispering something about ‘If only you knew.’ His jaw ticked. If he wanted to say something else, he didn’t show it. Instead, he changed the subject. “Nancy said she invited you to get a dress for the auction.”

“Yes. Since someone forgot to mention it.” You elbowed him. 

His mouth twitched but didn’t fully give in to a smile. Silence settled between you, comfortable but charged, the unspoken things hanging in the air like static. Your gaze lingered on the slope of his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped absently against his knee.

“Steve,” you started, your voice hesitant, “about tonight…”

His eyes flicked to yours, something cautious but hopeful sparking in their depths.

“Thanks for bringing me,” you said, your words softer than you intended. 

The air between you felt heavy again, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of heaviness that came with possibilities—with things unsaid but understood.

For a moment, you thought about leaning closer, about closing the small space between you and finding out if his lips felt as warm as they looked.

However, it was like after spending so much time chiseling at the walls he had built, you watched his eyes harden in real time. “Don’t worry, it won’t be unpaid,” he said. 

You furrowed your brows. “That’s not…that’s not why I said it,” you finished, the words coming out quieter than you intended.

Steve didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flicked to the floor, his jaw tight, and you could see the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, like he was trying to keep something in.

“I know,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “But it’s better if we keep things clear, right? No confusion.”

The words landed heavier than you expected, and the ache in your chest twisted into something sharper. “Clear,” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning back against the couch and letting out a breath like he’d settled something. 

The sudden shift in his tone felt like a slap, and you couldn’t stop the sting that settled in your chest. “Steve—”

“It’s late,” he interrupted, his voice clipped. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. The vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier—the warmth, the openness—was gone, replaced by a wall so impenetrable it was suffocating.

But you didn’t want to fight. Not when you were both exhausted and treading on thin ice. So you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stood up. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some point across the room. “Night.”

The word was distant, almost hollow, and it lingered in the air as you made your way upstairs.

When you reached his room—the room—you closed the door softly behind you, leaning against it for a moment. Your mind swirled with everything that had been said—and unsaid—and the ache in your chest only deepened.

Why did it bother you so much? You’d known from the beginning this was a transaction, a temporary arrangement to get through the holidays. But the way he’d shut down tonight, as if the moments you’d shared earlier didn’t matter, made you question everything.

Steve followed in shortly. You noticed the way he looked at the bed and even glanced at you briefly, sighing. 

You didn’t want to fight. You really didn’t. “This is bullshit.” 

He was grabbing his sleep clothes. He turned around to look at you. His face was stony and emotionless. 

“You cannot just shut me out like that, Steve Harrington. You said you liked it when I put you in your place, and unless that was all a lie, I’m going to do just that.” You crossed your arms across your chest. 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at your outburst, the sharp edge of his posture shifting into something more defensive. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, his voice low but steady, like he was trying to keep himself from snapping.

You stepped forward, refusing to let the heat in your chest falter. “I’m talking about you shutting me out every time I try to get close to you. Every time I try to show you that this—this thing—isn’t just about pretending for your mom or your friends or whatever. You’re the one who’s making this harder than it needs to be.”

Steve scoffed, tossing his clothes onto the bed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Oh, I don’t?” you shot back, stepping even closer, your arms still crossed tightly. “Then enlighten me, Steve. Explain why you go from being… whatever we were earlier tonight to acting like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Because it’s not real!” Steve snapped, finally meeting your eyes. The frustration in his voice was palpable, and the tension in the room thickened. “This whole thing—it’s fake, remember? You said it yourself, it’s all built on a lie. And it’s better if we keep it that way. If we don’t confuse what’s real and what isn’t.”

His words stung, but you didn’t back down. “So what?” you asked, your voice rising. “Everything we did tonight, everything you said—none of it meant anything to you?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Steve?” you demanded, your voice breaking just slightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re running away from whatever this is before it even has a chance to mean something.”

Steve let out a sharp breath, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I’m not running,” he said, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. “I’m just trying to protect us from making a mistake, okay? From thinking this is something it’s not.”

“And what if it is something?” you countered, your voice softer now but no less firm. “What if this isn’t a mistake, Steve? What if you just stop shutting me out long enough to see that?”

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a plea. Steve stared at you, his hazel eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, confusion, longing.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“And you’re a coward,” you replied, your tone sharp despite the ache in your chest.

Something in him snapped. He closed the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands gripping your face as he kissed you, hard and desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your breath hitched, and for a split second, your body froze in shock. But then your hands found his chest, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was a collision of all the things left unsaid, all the tension and frustration and longing that had been building between you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your fingers slowly intertwined in his hair, tugging lightly, moaning when you heard a soft groan from the back of his throat. You hated to admit the amount of times you’ve wanted to play with his hair. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making them part so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands started to roam, squeezing your ass. 

You broke first, as if you were gasping for oxygen. But Steve didn’t stop. His mouth fell to your jaw, trailing kisses to your neck. It was like he already knew where the spot was on your throat that would make your knees weak. You grasped his hair tighter. 

“If you do that again, I might not make it to the bed.” He growled against your ear. 

“The bed? That’s presumptuous, Mr. Harrington.” 

If he wasn’t hard already, he was now. You whined as you felt his pants bulge against your stomach. You nearly choked out a laugh. “No shit. This whole time—”

He kissed you. “Shut up.”

You pushed him slightly away, his lips tried to chase after yours. You began to gently push him backward, leading him to his bed. “No wonder why you hate me calling you that. You’ve been getting turned on.” 

He sat at the edge of the bed, his hands grabbing the back of your thighs. “That’s presumptuous,” he mimicked you. His hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes asking for permission. You lifted your arms, allowing him to take your sweater off. His mouth immediately fell on your chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about these two all day,” Steve admitted. His fingers threatened to unclasp your bra, but didn’t. Instead, he brought you down for another kiss. “Christ, I think about them all the time. But this morning, I couldn’t stop picturing you standing in the middle of my room with no shirt on. I felt like a fuckin’ teenager again.” 

You giggled against his mouth. “You did take an awfully long time showering.” 

He blushed. That was enough to tell you that your assumptions were correct. You crawled into his lap, bucking a little to feel him against your core. “Besides this morning, when was the last time you’ve thought about me?” 

You helped him strip off his shirt. 

He didn’t answer. His hands all over you again, soaking you up. “The other day when I kicked you out of my office.”

You put your hands on his shoulders, looking at him. You had imagined he had been on the other side of the door actually debating about firing you. You had even skimmed the “Help Wanted” section in the newspaper. You smiled at him, kissing him all over. On his mouth, cheek, and neck. Your hands splayed over his chest. 

“So, you do stare at me when I wear the skirt.” It wasn’t a question and he knew it. 

He rolled his eyes. “I told you. I do not stare.” His fingers finally unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. “I look for an appropriate amount of time.” 

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the boss to be looking at all.” You batted your eyes at him innocently. 

His hands ran down your arms, sending a chill down your spine. “Oh, so now you’re concerned about professionalism? Convenient timing.” You would think that would make him upset but instead he continued to slip your bra all the way off.

He palmed your breasts gently before sliding a hand up to your throat, moving it to the back of your neck so he could gently tug your hair. You bit your lip as his mouth found that spot again, massaging your breast at the same time. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders. “There’s no telling how long you’ve been mentally undressing me. Your sweet and innocent intern.” 

“You’re kidding, right? Sweet and innocent my ass—“

“You talk too much,” you smirked mischievously. 

You yelped, giggling as he picked you up and tossed you on the bed. He parted your legs with his knee. And you nearly cried as it barely touched you. His fingers started to unbutton your pants. You never knew eyes could get so dark as he hovered above you. “You’ve been driving me crazy since I’ve met you,” he mumbled. “If you have any concerns, I can stop.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin you living out your fantasy.” You arched so he could slip your pants off. 

He kissed your stomach, planting small kisses to the hem of your underwear. “I only said, I think about you. You’re making me sound like a freak.” 

You smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. "Oh, I don’t know, Steve. Spending all that time in your office, staring at me, imagining this moment? Sounds a little freaky to me."

He rolled his eyes, trailing another kiss along your hip bone. “Again, I never said anything about imagining. All I said was I think about you. That’s different.” 

“Different how? Enlighten me, Mr. Harrington.” You teased, brushing his hair back. 

“Well, for one, I’m very respectful in my thinking.” Steve chuckled, low and rough, his hands skimming down your thighs as he tugged at your underwear. "If I’m the freak, what does that make you? You’re the one letting your ‘boss’ take you apart like this."

You laughed, taking a deep breath once he pulled the cotton off of you. You tried to squeeze your legs together, but Steve pushed your knees apart, leaning back, taking you all in. His eyes scanned you, like he was trying to memorize every square inch of you. He seemed to love touching you because his palm started at your shoulder, slowly caressing it down, rubbing circles on your stomach with a finger. “None of this seems respectful, Mr. Harrington.”

A breath was caught in the back of your throat. His thumb found your sensitive area between your legs. Your back arched as he slowly rubbed it. You were embarrassingly already coming unglued. “You sure are complaining a lot about how I think about you.” 

You closed your eyes, moaning as one of his fingers entered inside you. “I’m not… complaining… Jesus…” You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his tongue made contact with your sensitive spot, curling his finger at the same time. “M’only… stating facts.” 

He lifted his head, and oh my god, you could burst right then and there. His lips were wet and swollen. His eyes were hazy, like he was drunk off of you. “Facts? I have one for you. I think about the way you argue with me during meetings. The way you glare at me like you’re seconds away from strangling me.”

“Sounds sexy,” you replied sarcastically, frowning. You had no idea where he was going. 

He nodded. “It is. Especially when you get that little wrinkle between your brows. Drives me crazy.”

“Oh my god, you’re a dork.” 

“Maybe. But you’re the one under me, letting me do whatever I want,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing as his finger curled, making you gasp. “So what does that say about you?” 

You smirked, gripping hair again when his lips brushed your inner thigh. “It says I make terrible decisions.” 

“Terrible?” His head shot up, eyes narrowed. “I’ll remember that the next time you attempt to proposition me.” 

“Next time?” 

He snuck another finger in. You bit your lip out of protest. “Confident, are we,” you asked, voice tight. 

“Call it intuition,” he hummed. 

“I call it arrogance,” you quipped. He went back down, his mouth back on your swollen heat, fingers pumping in and out of you. His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as you arched your back, thighs pressing on the side of his face. You cried out short whimpers. 

Then he completely stopped. 

His fingers and mouth were gone. It was so sudden you believed you had imagined it all. You propped yourself with your elbows, your breath still erratic. He looked at you with his stupid smug smirk. “Still have energy to complain?” 

Steve Harrington had finally cracked how to make you speechless. You didn’t have any remark. Your mind spun, trying to grasp for a shred of your usual wit, but it was as if he’d stolen the words straight from your mouth. Steve Harrington had done what you thought was impossible—rendered you completely and utterly speechless.

The air between you felt electric, charged with the weight of what just happened, of what he had made you feel. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from his touch, and all you could do was stare at him, at that insufferable, cocky grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

You hated how much you loved it.

He looked so infuriatingly pleased with himself, like he had won some unspoken game between you two—and maybe he had. For the first time, you weren’t the one in control, and the realization was both maddening and exhilarating.

What made it worse was that he knew it. He knew exactly what he’d done to you, and the way his hazel eyes gleamed with satisfaction only made your stomach twist in the most frustratingly delicious way.

“Now who is mentally undressing the other?” He began to unzip his jeans. Slowly and tauntingly. There was no hurry as he climbed out of them, tossing them to the side. You sat up, reaching out. Your fingers hooked the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging it down. 

He sprung out, making you let out a large breath. He was going to kill you, you thought. Once his underwear was to the side, he pushed you back on the bed, climbing on top of you. “Do you not need me to…” you trailed off. 

He shook his head. “I think we’ve had a year long worth of foreplay. I need you. And I need you now.” Honestly, he was right. He could speak to you and you think you’d break. His expression softened, and his hand cradled your face. “This okay?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” you whispered. 

He kissed you softly. 

After adjusting, Steve slid into you. His face melted into a pool, his groan intertwining with your shaky exhale.

His hips rolled slowly, getting used to you and how you felt around him. He had to keep pushing your legs as they instinctively wanted to close around him. 

It was warm and electric as the thrusts became more intense. Your nails dug into his shoulders, chests flush against one another. His hot wavering grunts stuck to your neck. He nipped and kissed your collarbone. 

It was like you were a different person the moment he entered you. “You feel so good,” you purred, dragging your teeth against his earlobe. 

It became more erratic. It was sexy as the sounds of flesh coming together blended with the dirty breaths of air escaping each other’s lips. “Everything about you is perfect,” Steve whispered. 

He pressed his palm just right at the bottom of your stomach. You felt a tear roll down your face as the electricity inside you pulsed. “Steve…” It was like a champagne bottle opened inside you, fizzing all over the place. 

“Christ, sweetheart…” he groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy. You could feel him twitch even as you came down from your high. He let out a sound that could only be made from the back of his throat and let go. 

He laid on top of you, placing soft kisses on your jaw. 

All of it felt unbelievable. Your mind was a haze. It was like a whirlpool of sensation and disbelief. Your body still trembled from the aftershocks of what had just happened. 

How had this happened? How had you gone from presumably hating each other to this

—his body on yours, his lips tracing soft, reverent kisses along your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world?

The way he had spoken to you, his voice rough with need and unfiltered affection, played on a loop in your head. Everything about you is perfect. You could still feel the heat in his words, the way they'd wrapped around your heart and squeezed it, as if he'd been holding them back for far too long.

You hadn't expected this-any of it.

Not the intensity of his touch, not the way he unraveled you so completely, not the way he made you feel seen. 

And yet, the tender weight of his body, the way his breath brushed your skin as he whispered your name like a prayer, made it impossible to deny. Maybe you weren't just pretending anymore.

Maybe you never had been.