#it was so satisfying to say ‘that sounds like a you problem’ to him about this and mean it in total sincerity

[feukt-42]

Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

[artofhazbinhotel]

Controversial opinion: I don't like Stolas and I don't want stolitz to become a relationship

Neither of them are 100% in the right, I know that, this isn't because I love Blitz, I don't really care, but Stolas has always got on my nerves. First he makes a sex deal with a guy while he can clearly see he's running for his life and not into it. The deal is the only way Blitz can do his job, that's sexual coercion! Don't believe me? Here's the definition:

"Sexual coercion is unwanted sexual activity that happens when you are pressured, tricked, threatened, or forced in a nonphysical way. Coercion can make you think you owe sex to someone. It might be from someone who has power over you, like a teacher, landlord, or a boss."

Stolas doesn't see it this way but in the beginning of course blitz did and why wouldn't he? It doesn't matter if it was consensual, Stolas has power over him so he'd assume he owes it, he even shows this mindset in full moon where he thinks Stolas is taking the book because he wasn't satisfying him.

Stolas was constantly calling him degrading names too "my little imp" -murder family "my little impish plaything" -truth seekers "itty bitty imps like yourself" -harvest festival(? Don't remember the title) "little creatures" -looloo land. The argument is he didn't mean it as an insult and that's true, he didn't even mean the deal as manipulation, but that doesn't change how it made blitz feel, blitz isn't the type to open up to someone and say 'hey that hurts my feelings ' if stolas really liked him he should have noticed the reactions. He hates it every time, pushing away, changing the subject, you can't be that stupid. You can say stolas was raised this way and yes he was but again how is that blitz's problem? He can be treated disrespectfully because stolas has a shitty parent? So did he.

Let's not forget how he acted at Ozzie's too, when he was called out for being on a date with an imp he hid behind his menu like blitz is an embarrassment, he publicly humiliated him instead of taking up for him, hence why Ozzie and fizz are so much better, they would never. And then Stolas is all sad like "why didn't he wanna cuddle? :(" idk maybe because you reinforced he's worthless in public

And then it's revealed they haven't been doing their deal for a while because stolas feels guilty and it's about time, he should have realized forcing someone to have sex with you to do their job is wrong immediately. When he tells blitz he does it in the worst way possible, he doesn't fully explain why he's taking the book first and that makes blitz panic, and then all the sudden he's confessing his love, what did he think would happen?

They have this huge argument where people say stolas has a trauma response from yelling even though he's never flinched at Stella and wasn't afraid of her, every time she yelled or threw something he just looked dead inside instead of frightened, that's a normal response too, what I'm saying is in that moment he wasn't afraid of blitz at all and even if he was how is that blitz's fault? It was an impulsive reaction not a planned thing to play on someone's trauma

"I think so highly of you, I didn't know you thought so low of me" Stolas says crying, how? And it's not thinking low, it's thinking you think so low, "treating me like one of your little imp servants" he was?? If someone is telling you you did something that hurt them you should apologize instead of making it about yourself, save your crying for when you apologize like "oh my God i did that? I'm so sorry, i didn't mean to, I don't look down on you I promise, I didn't realize " and boom we're slightly better!

"When have I ever looked down on you?" Everything before the deal break where you suddenly try to be better without apologizing and blitz doesn't understand, and the thing about blitz abandoning him with striker, he says blitz sounds like striker, don't do that wtf, you're making someone for guilty for taking their daughter to the doctor? Not everyone is a shitty dad who uses their child as an excuse to sexually and publicity flirt with the guy you're cheating on her mom with. You do not get to make him feel guilty for sending his work to do it while he comforts his scared child

Stolas refuses to acknowledge his own faults aside from the one with the deal, there's too much damage between to be a proper relationship, they shouldn't be endgame but you just know they will be somehow

[iremiari]

Daydreams || A Dead Boy Detectives Ficlet

A journalist interviews Charles and Edwin, asking how they would feel if Season 2 got cancelled. aka: the time i got too carried away making incorrect quotes (hence this fic being mostly dialogue), so have this really short ficlet of them!! Also yes, they technically broke the 4th wall during this entire thing.

Edwin and Charles are sitting on chairs, sitting in front of a white backdrop - much like those you see in interviews. Because they were in an interview, and by the looks of it, it was almost about to end.

One of the news reporters have given Charles and Edwin a question: How would they feel if they didn't get renewed for Season 2?

"Nonsense." Edwin reacts almost immediately. "It is imperative that we get renewed for Season 2. I must," he composes himself, "I must hear Charles tell me he loves me."

Charles, next to him, raises an eyebrow, and looks at Edwin with a smile, "Oh, and you're certain about that, yeah?"

"Well, no. But one could infer that-"

A little peck had landed on Edwin's lips.

Charles has just kissed Edwin, and the two boys look at each other. Charles is the first to speak.

"'Cause you're right. I do. I am in love with you."

Edwin just looks at him, stunned. Charles, charming as he is, gives him a topic to go off of.

"But keep going. I love hearing you talk about whatever's on your mind."

Edwin tries to speak, but he cannot seem to focus with what just happened and how casual Charles is treating this situation. All that comes out of his mouth is a series of mumbles and stutters, "I- there is-- I am… speechless."

"Aw," Charles smiles, "luckily, that isn't a problem."

He kisses him again, way more intense than the small peck he gave him earlier. They wrap their hands around each other's head, and continue. For Charles, it felt like a dream come true. He had been waiting to say that for a long time and--

"Right, Charles?" a voice says, interrupting whatever Charles was imagining.

"Huh, yeah, what?"

Turned out it was a dream. A daydream, anyway.

"Clearly, you got distracted again." Edwin gave a sigh - not one of disappointment, though. Maybe Charles was just imagining it, but it sounded like... a sigh of adoration.

"Anyway, I was telling these journalists just now that if our show does not get renewed for another season, then it would be highly devastating - for both us, the agency and the viewers at home."

"Oh," Charles collects himself, "Oh yeah, now you got me. I totally agree."

He looks at the camera. "I think a lot of people are... excited to see where our story leads, especially like- especially considering all the different narratives in store for us."

He ends with a chuckle, and turns to Edwin, smiling. "Also, sorry for zoning out there, mate. Won't happen again. Promise."

"We shall see about that." Edwin said to him with a coy smile, hiding his delight, before turning his attention to the journalists in front of them.

"Would that be all for you lovely people today? Charles and I do still have a lot of work to get done."

"Certainly, Mr. Payne and Mr. Rowland. Thank you for your time."

The news reporter looks through their notes as Charles and Edwin walk out of the set, looking very satisfied with the outcome of the interview.

[katara-stan-club]

love when a guy tries to guilt trip you into doing what he wants after you say no by staying on the line not saying anything in hopes you’ll change your mind, and by saying such classics as “I don’t have any other options” and “what will I do now”

[katskitoshi]

"A FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.)

characters: dom! aether, venti, albedo, diluc, and keaya x gn! sub! reader

includes: (nsfw themes) aether's a menace, sweat kink, darcyphillia, rough sex, cumming inside, venti's a menace, fucking in a cathedral, wall sex, clothed sex, size kink, albedo's a menace, spanking, hot/cold play, orgasm denial, fingering, thigh grinding, outdoor sex, diluc's a menace, mister kink, begging kink, slapping, spit kink, deepthroating, blowjob, lmk if i missed smthg.

aether, the outlander.

aether is always doing favors for people, but when it's with you, it's never a chore. you needed help clearing out a domain, and you offered to do something to compensate him sometime. and now that he's finally alone with you, he gets the chance to finally use that favor you owe him.

-- "fuck, you're so hot, [name]." he smiles as his delicate, yet scarred, fingers trace across your tear-covered face. he lays above you, sitting on your torso, pinning your hands down as he admires your beauty. even through through pain and battle, you manage to stay as perfect as ever.

aether was thanked profusely for helping you with this domain, and the challenge was a little hard, resulting in a bit of ripped clothing and a bunch of sweat dripping down your body, while he was only left with a major problem in his pants.

and he just couldn't resist himself. plus, you owed him a favor after all. and you both wanted it, so what's the harm?

his smile is almost maniacal as he drags his tongue across your tears and sweat dripping down your face. the tears from the minutes of torment on your delicate nipples and hole. "you're disgusting aether," you gag despite being turned on. "yes, but you love it, darling."

he had to be quick to fuck you, because you automatically get kicked out the domain after 16 minutes. around 6 minutes have passed already, leaving 10 more minutes of torture to continue.

aether leans down and licks your lips, the salty taste of tears and sweat coming onto your own tastebuds. the kiss is quick, rushed, but still desperate. he finally gets off your stomach, "on all fours." he demands.

this commanding voice he has turns you on to unimaginable extents, and you do as he says. after all, the clock is running and the both of you've still yet to cum.

he pulls his pants down just enough to spring in growing cock out. it leaks milky white precum, and it looks a flushed red, just like his face. you're already prepped, his torture on your hole proof enough. he lines himself up and thrusts in quickly, the strength of it propelling you forwards.

your face smushed into the hard domain floors, and your hips were harshly grabbed by the blonde fucking you. "a-aether slow down!" you wail, using one hand to try to push his hips back, but it's far from enough to stop his brutish thrusts against you.

"can't, darling. there's only --fuck-- 4 minutes left and we have to cum and collect our rewards, remember?" he uses this as an excuse to fuck you harder, his nails digging into your hips and pulling you further back into him. his thrust get faster somehow, and you're used like a fucktoy in his hands.

"aether, i-i think i'm c-cumingg~!" you wail, feeling the high of orgasm quickly approaching. aether can tell, he's about too to, and he only thrusts faster to make the approaching high all the more satisfying. "fuck! me too!"

with a particularly deep thrust, spurts of aether's hot load paint your insides white.

you and aether both moan loudly, the sound echoing throughout the domain. you collapse on the domain floor, aether's cum dripping out of you.

you both pant. he slaps your ass, "get your clothes on and lets get our rewards and i'll take you back to mondstadt so we can finish, 'kay?" you nod, tears still slipping from your eyes. he helps you up, your legs still wobbly from your endeavors.

wait- it finally hit you. he said he can finish when he gets back, right? here, he was bound to 16 minutes, who knows what he can do with endless time on his hands? well, i guess you'll have to be the lucky traveler to find out.

venti, the windborne "bard".

you needed help with getting atop a mountain, and venti was conveniently there for you to make a little wind rift to boost you up. it was a favor, one you'd have to soon repay. although he could have used the nice view of your ass as a reward, he needed something more.

-- "v-venti! you're gonna get us caught!" you quietly wail as he fingers you faster inside a closet at the church of favonius. a service in worship to lord barbatos was going on not too far away, the same lord barbatos who was toying with you.

venti curls his fingers in a particular way that has you release a high pitched moan, quickly covering your mouth in embarrassment. he chuckles, thrusting even faster and curling his fingers even deeper into the spot that makes your vision white.

"for someone so scared of being caught," he places a kiss on your neck, licking the area over, "you sure do make a lot of noise. but let's see how loud you can get, yeah?"

your mind regrets even allowing him to get as far as leading you away from the church but your body is happy it made the decision of letting him drag you away from a holy service in order to make some unholy deeds happen. in most situations, it's mind over body. but for venti, your body's desire outweighs whatever logical thoughts you had.

he removes his fingers and licks them clean, much to your disappointment, resulting in a whine, "don't worry, [name]. this will be much better than what my fingers can do." he chuckles again, removing his pants and jerking his cock to full size. your eyes widen in surprise as you notice his large size despite his small stature.

"venti, there's no way that can fit. you aren't seriously gonna put it in me, right? venti? venti-" you panicked at first, scared of his initial size. he was huge! but you stopped panicking when he finally thrusted inside, stretching you open.

he ignores your concerns, only focused on the feeling of your wrapped around his cock. "you're so cute windblume~ remember, i'm doing this because you owe me a favor. consider this my compensation for helping you that day! plus, i'm sure that even if you hadn't owed me this we still would have found ourselves doing this at some point."

a high moan escapes you lips as you claw at venti's back, careful not to rip his delicate clothing. he continues to thrust into until he's balls deep inside you. pulling out until only the tip is in, he thrusts into hard, fast, and deep. you shake in his arms, quietly moaning out his name in hopes he'd slow down. but there's a slim chance he'll do it.

after all, he's the god of freedom in his own church and you're a consenting traveler who's willing to be a god's plaything.

albedo, the kreideprinz.

albedo has always been one for "if you give, you take." he's a generous soul, but he still must be repaid if he does you a favor. and since he gave you warmth in the freezing cold of dragonspine, it's only right that he takes something in return, correct? and who knows, maybe what he takes could benefit the both of you on this cold dragonspine night.

-- "tell me dear, are you feeling warmer now?" albedo breathes down your neck, one hand toying with your hard nipples and the other using two fingers to loosen you for his cock. you could feel his hard on against your ass, and it felt big.

in his camp, you could feel the warmth of a nearby fire which warmed you up instantly, but it suddenly felt too hot. "i feel too hot, 'bedo." you whine as you feel him pull your nipple a bit too hard.

he chuckles, "you told me you wanted to be warmer, so i made you warmer." he pulls your face close to his, kissing you and only adding to the heat forming between your legs

after striking a nerve deep inside you with his fingers, you moaned out loudly, almost shamelessly arching your back against him. "'bedo, too hot! i think i'm gonna cum!" you start grinding against his fingers and back onto his clothed dick.

"you are? really?" he questions condescendingly. you throw your head back further onto his shoulder as he speeds up his fingers. "cumming! i'm cumming!" and right before you cum onto albedo's pretty fingers, he pulls out, forcing you to not reach your orgasm.

the tears stream down your face switch from pleasure to pain. "albedo, please! wh-why'd you pull out?" you whine, grinding against him in hopes of received some sort of pleasuring friction.

albedo doesn't like this. he removes his hand from you nipple has it join his wet fingers on your hips to stop you from grinding. "i had to pull out because you said you were too hot. i would hate to make you too hot, dear."

you don't even think about what you're doing, only wanting to reach the high that was taken away from you. you try to pry off albedo's hands off your hips, pulling and hitting him. "'bedo, please! just keep fingering me! i'll suck you off afterwards or let you fuck me however you want, just continue please!" despite your fruitless efforts, you continue to try and grind against him.

he stares at you coldly, almost as harsh as the frozen winds that got you in this situation. "that's not very nice, now is it, dear?" he pushes you off him and pats his lap. shit. you just got yourself in more trouble than a single orgasm was worth.

you bend over his lap, mentally preparing yourself for whats to come. "m'sorry 'bedo," he shushes you in return, sliding is cold pointer finger drown your back and onto your ass. he rubs it gently, almost like he wasn't about to ruin you. he gives one harsh smack, demanding you count. and you do, until he reaches 12 and he starts to the knead the sore skin of your ass.

"archons, you're pathetic. i can feel you even through my pants. remember, if give you something, i will take in return. so i'll give you this punishment and i'll take you as i please. it's stupid how you think you have a say in this matter, dear."

diluc, the darkside of dawn.

diluc was a fair man. willing to help to an extent even with nothing in return. but when it came to sweet little you, in need of saving from some hilichurls, he was willing to help in a heartbeat without even needing compensation. but when you offer to do as he pleases, he was more than willing to lose his fairness all in the favor of finally taking you.

-- "m-mister diluc! what if someone from the adventurer's guild sees us? we're in public!" diluc only shushes you with a slow but desperate kiss. it leaves you wanting more, and you only wonder if it's your fault for offering to pay him back in such an unholy way. especially in the middle of windrise when you were supposed to be on a picnic? how shameful.

you whine into his kiss, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him closer to your lips. diluc only thrusts deeper inside you, kissing you more desperately as you moan into his lips.

he loves this feeling. you being putting in his hands. he loves the control, -- the kind, fair man he's painted himself as is starting fade away as he feels you clench around him, moan into his lips, and pull him closer like a lover.

he relishes in your warm embrace, finally pulling away from your lips to kiss at your pebbled nipples. you moan- a sweet, yet loud out escaping from your lips. he kisses your nipples, licking across your chest before he works his way to your neck to leave hickies.

"thank you, thank you thank you, thank you, thank you!" you babble mindlessly, removing your hands from his hair and to the blanket underneath you, gripping it tightly.

he goes back to your lips, kissing you deeply as he keeps his steady pace of thrusting into you. the kiss is short, and he pulls away to ask you a question. "what are you thanking me for?" he asks. tears stream down your face.

yes, you're greatly indebted to diluc for saving you but you're already sore and you've barely been fucked. "i-" he slaps you across your face, annoyed with your stalling.

"remember, [name]. you're the one who wanted to pay me back. can you not handle your own decision?"

kaeya, the calvary captain.

kaeya isn't really one to help someone out unless it's commanded of him. but for you, his darling subordinate, he'll do anything. but you just can't get something for nothing while dealing with him. with his help clearing out some of your paperwork, you now owe him, and he's sure to not let your forget.

-- "poor slut can't take anymore?" he taunts. you're on your knees in front of your boss sucking him off like some common whore. you're not, you're only giving him whats due. with kaeya, there's not even a point in trying to change his mind. if he wants his cock down your throat, he'll get his cock down your throat.

but luckily you're more willing, and he'll only push you down further on his surprisingly huge dick. "just like that, slut." he groans, leaning his head back with a groan and pushing your head down further. "juustt like that."

you choke on his cock, the spit and precum being barely enough lubrication to make his cock slide easily in your throat. tears stream down your face and kaeya's eye meet yours. he only smiles, pushing your head down slightly further as a tease.

it felt good, the burn of the throat feeling like nothing compared to the satisfaction of pleasing your boss. the more you gag, the more your throat clenches around him, and you can tell kaeya's absolutely losing it.

he moves your head up and down his cock swiftly, pulling you off suddenly and jerking his cock to his release. and when it finally came, warm spurts of white cum ended up all over your face. he pants heavily and looks down at his creation.

before him kneels a desperate, panting, cum-covered slut for him and him alone to use. he uses him thumb to smear some cum over your lips and force you to taste it. the salty taste makes you gag, but it still tastes good. "open." and you open your mouth obediently. he spits in your mouth, "swallow." and you do obediently.

kaeya chuckles at your ruined face and he can only think ow much he can ruin your body. you're still in his debt, afterall.

"now that i've ruined your pretty little mouth, how about i ruin something else?"

(liyue vers.)

[kyunzin]

𝐇𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮

character; 𝐒. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

cw; where there’s a problem there’s always a solution, yours is just getting dicked down by connie (f!reader)

tags; black reader, nsfw, dirty talk, back shots, multiple rounds, overstimulation, slightly messy sex, begging, aftercare (f!reader)

a/n; this was more for me than it was for you ;p

he has you bent over the sofa chair, sundress hiked up over your hips, panties pushed to the side as he fucks you into the couch with purpose. both his hand keeping you still as he pulls out to the tip and thrusts back all the way back in, the sound of of his hips snapping into yours filling the room.

“is this what you wanted baby, to be fucked like a slut”.

he had noticed straight away that something was off when you stepped through the door, the way you acted was off from how you usually would and he can tell the signs from when you’re in a mood.

the first sign was the way how instead of greeting him with a kiss you tried to walk straight past him, second was when you rolled your eyes at him when he asked if something was wrong as well as the snappy tone you used when telling him it was nothing. he bent you over the sofa with no hesitation.

he’s had you cum three times already now both of you bring overstimulated and worn out but he has no plans on stopping until he finds out what wrong. its not often that he has to question you like this but when he does its a long process, the both of you two stubborn to give in.

he doesn’t care how many times you cum either way he still gets to watch as your ass slaps back against his pelvis and the way your soaked pussy clenches around him every time he pulls back trying to suck him back in. theres a thick ring of your mixed arousal around his cock and he’s sure that your juices have dripped down from his cock down onto the sofa below you but he’ll worry about cleaning that up later.

“all you had to do was tell me what was wrong and we could have worked it out together but you decided to difficult and you know I don’t tolerate that shit ma, so you wanna tell me what’s up. hmm?”.

he doesn’t stop fucking you as he speaks but you can hear the little shakes in his voice when his hips connect with yours and the little profanities that slip out. you can tell that it’s affecting him as well as he’s cum just as many times as you but you know that he can last longer than you so you try fein confidence.

he chuckles when you shake your head no keeping to your stubbornness but he knows you won’t be able to last for long, you never do. all you need is a bit of tough love before you break down and give in to him.

“have it your way princess, we both know you’ll give in soon”

he feels no sympathy for you as he slaps his palm over your ass that’s he’s sure stings from the way you hiss out in pain, he repeats the motion until he satisfied hearing your cries, not caring whether they’re from pain or pleasure.

“anything you wanna -shit, say ma, all you gotta do is say two words and this can end”

he throws his head back in excitement when you turn around to face him letting out a weak and choked ‘fuck you’. he knows you’re not far from giving in so he lets you have the last of your struggle fucking you without mercy, the sofa rocking back and forth from the force of his thrusts.

“c’mon baby you know what you gotta do, dont’cha wanna be a good girl for me?”

a small sob leaves your mouth and he knows he’s won especially when he hears you mumbling and he slows his pace so it’s easier for you to speak. he doesn’t push you to speak louder but eventually your mumbles become louder and he’s able to make out your little repeated chants of “m’sorry” and “please”.

“what was that baby, you’re sorry?”

you can’t tell he’s mocking you and that he’s smiling as he says it but you nod anyway repeating your apology hoping he accepts it. now that he’s satisfied with your apology he pulls you up against him and turns your head around so that he can kiss you, you’re tongues messily swirling around each other.

“its okay princess I forgive you, how ‘bout you cum one more time to show me just how sorry you are”

you know it’s a command and not a question but theres no need for him to even ask because your impending orgasm washes over you with full force. it has your legs trembling, pussy twitching uncontrollably around him, loud moans escaping your glossed lips. which sends him over the edge as he spills his hot load into condom that you don’t even remember him putting on, with a low groan of your name.

“all that attitude for what ma?”

when you don’t respond he lifts up your limp body to find that your eyes are closed and your breathing steadily. he slowly pulls out of you and places you on the clean sofa walking away briefly before coming back with a warm cloth to wipe you down. striping you down to your underwear he brings you to your room and tucks you under the covers placing a kiss to your forehead. leaving to go clean the sofa.

delighted that he managed to fuck you unconscious he walks around the house with a smile on his face for the rest of the day. when you do eventually wake up a couple minutes later you tell him the reason for you behaviour was only because of a dare you were given and he just shakes his head already used to your antics.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@connies4lifer

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 4; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3 tags: dubcon/noncon, nsfw

-

Much of Ghost’s behaviour is reactive. Oddly passive for the assumptions people often make of him. He doesn’t run from trouble, but certainly he doesn’t seek it out. Aside from a few rare deviations from the norm (running his father out of the city at eighteen, not breaking enough bones to count as restitution, and finally leaving home to enlist), that remains the rule. 

The way Johnny mopes for days after parading his bird around base has Ghost nearly rolling his eyes, already exasperated. He should’ve known his puppy wouldn’t share well. 

It’s worse than he expected though. Johnny mopes for a week straight after the fact, hardly able to meet Ghost’s eyes in briefings. He stares straight down at the floor pathetically, dragging his feet behind him when he’s dismissed. Price notices it right away, raising an eyebrow at Ghost after Johnny leaves the room. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.

“In the dog house, I reckon. His girl’s pissed at him.”

“Your doing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Ghost replies smoothly, face giving away nothing.

Price is hardly convinced. “I’m sure. Nothing to do with you.”

Ghost doesn’t answer that. He waits until he’s dismissed and then takes off down the same hall Johnny just left, curious about wherever his boy’s slunk off to. 

He can’t help the latent sadistic streak in him that curls up in pleasure at the sight of Johnny pouting and squirming whenever he walks into the room. Still, his attitude will need to be rectified soon enough—there’s only so much Ghost will tolerate, only so much disrespect he’ll turn a blind eye to. One day Johnny will look back and reflect on this, and appreciate the extent of Ghost’s magnanimity. 

Still, he doesn’t enjoy being ignored. One week bleeds into the beating heart of the next and Ghost realizes that he’s had enough of the silent treatment. He’s given Johnny more than enough time to come to terms with their new situation. 

He tracks him down to the armoury on a Monday evening after most of the other soldiers have already left for the day, back home or eating supper in the mess hall. It’s empty apart from the two of them, and when Johnny finally notices his presence in the room, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t flinch at least. Good boy. He’s gotten better at being less reactive, less shaky about being caught off guard. 

“Done for the day, sergeant?” He keeps it light to start, taking a step closer. 

Johnny tenses at the approach. “Yes, sir.” The title would usually satisfy on its own, but it comes strained, polite but removed. 

“Where’d you come from?”

“Layouts and gunners training, sir.”

On any other day, Johnny’s deference might come as a lovely note to end the day on, but not today. It rankles now, the edge of his voice sweetened by a kind of silent dismissal, not giving any more information than what’s required of him. Nothing like the boy who used to open his mouth and sing the world back to him. Ghost has earned his every thought. 

“We have a problem, Soap?”

“No, sir,” Johnny grumbles, still not meeting his eyes. His mouth barely moves when he says the words, teeth all but grit. 

No dealing with this temper tantrum like adults then. For all Johnny must carp and bitch to himself about the hardships that Ghost has put him through, he seems to have no desire to actually deal with the problem. That’s too bad. It would’ve been easy enough to talk it out like grown men.

They’ll have to come to terms some other way.

“Come. We’re fixing this attitude of yours now,” Ghost grunts, turning before Johnny has the opportunity to complain and marching down the hall towards the gym. 

He hears Johnny make a sound like an angry bull before following him down the hall. The loud footfalls against the tile floor betray his simmering anger; it reveals to Ghost what he already knew intuitively. His boy still needs to learn to play well with others. 

In time, this anger will fade into the ether, replaced by Johnny’s old doggish need to please Ghost, but it’s causing too many problems now to be tolerated. He hasn’t gotten to see the bird since the week before. Doesn’t even have a photo of his own to look at when he rubs one out. It would be less aggravating if Johnny were willing to spread his legs and let Ghost rut between his thighs, but they aren’t there yet.

The gym is empty as it usually is around early evening when Ghost opens the door, the lights off from whoever last used it. Johnny follows him sullenly, dragging his feet about it. Ghost’s eye ticks at the show of attitude persisting into this space.

“Lock it behind you,” Ghost says without looking back at him, crossing to where the mats are on the other side of the gym. 

Neither of them are dressed to spar, still clad in their fatigues, but his blood cranks up to boiling when he turns around to watch as Johnny crosses the room angrily, picking up steam now as well. He comes in hot, not even bothering to suss out Ghost’s first move before launching himself at him. 

Ghost staggers back a step at the hit, but he takes it in stride, shifting his weight and using Johnny’s momentum to throw him off, sending him sprawling. He’s quick to get back to his feet, but that moment of carelessness gives Ghost everything he needs. The next time Johnny throws himself at him, Ghost lets him get an arm around his leg and nearly grins to himself when he feels Johnny put all his weight into trying to flip him. 

He knows strength isn’t everything, but there’s something to be said about the several inches and even more kilos he has on Johnny. That plus a decade’s worth of experience. Sparring devolves into a sweat-slicked grapple, Johnny’s shirt coming untucked and rucked up, his hair mussed. He tries to go for the mask, eyes gleaming with a wet, savage glint—forgetting decorum or tact, and just going for the most underhanded maneuver. 

He pays for it when Ghost takes him hard to the floor, catching him with a leg sweep that he might’ve been able to avoid if he were fighting with a clear mind. Anger makes him sloppy though. 

“Fuckin’ bastard—” Johnny grunts when he hits the floor, narrowly avoiding clipping his chin against the mat. 

“Folks never married, so guess you’re right,” Ghost remarks, unbothered. Hardly winded even, only the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow, obscured by the mask. 

His sudden divulgence makes Johnny falter. So rarely does Ghost open even a crack that the momentary honesty catches him off guard, giving Ghost the opportunity to wrangle him into a tight hold. 

Pinning Johnny isn’t an easy task because the kid fights dirty when he feels cornered. Lashes out wildly with his fists when Ghost gets an arm around his neck and holds him in place, less precise than when he’s coolheaded, but still brutal, all raw strength packed behind his punches. He twists Johnny over onto his stomach when the boy tries to buck him off, slamming him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you all riled up now?” Ghost asks, twisting Johnny’s arms behind his back to pin him in place. 

He struggles in Ghost’s hold, trying to find a weak point. The search is fruitless. Ghost’s body weighs him down like a boulder pinning him flush to a dirt-streaked mountainside, forcing the air out of his lungs when he presses down harder. 

“Ye cannae just take her from me—” he spits out, face flushed. He kicks out a foot, trying to free himself, but all Ghost does is shift slightly to press his shin to Johnny’s calf, holding it down. “I told ye she was different and ye had to—and now she willnae even fuckin’ talk to me. Barely texts me, willnae answer my calls. I cannae—I can’…” 

His voice trails off on a hitch. Not quite a sob, but a frustrated, wretched sound. 

“Held that in for a while, didn’t ya?” Ghost murmurs, holding Johnny down with ease when he struggles again, trying to wrench his arms out of Ghost’s hold. 

“I almost fuckin’—almost just fuckin’ gave her to ye,” Johnny says, shame thick in his voice. “Thought maybe it wouldnae be worth…jus’ dinnae want a girl coming between us. But she’s—I told ye, Lt, she’s special, I cannae jus’—I cannae jus’ let her go. And now she doesnae want anythin’ to do with me.”

Ghost doesn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of that statement. As if Johnny could give him something that’s already his. 

“Not trying to steal your bird, Johnny.” He taps Johnny’s cheek, a little reprimand. It makes him blink and scrunch up his nose. “What’d be the point of that?”

He forgets how young Johnny is sometimes, just now nearing the end of his twenties. Still wet behind the ears, all blood flushed and pink cheeked. Green still to the realities of the world and Ghost’s presence in his life (permanent, fixed; unchanging). 

There isn’t a version of him that wants someone who doesn’t also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they’ve been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Johnny wants—at times, Ghost almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny’s thoughts into his. 

Johnny twists his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Ghost. “The fuck are ye on about? Ye grabbed her ass in front of God ‘n everyone, for Christ’s sake. Said your intentions loud ‘n clear.”

“‘Course I did. She’s got a nice arse, doesn’t she?”

“You’re really startin’ to fuck with my head, Ghost, I dinnae understand what ye—”

“You keep running your mouth off about trying to take the girl from you—I don’t need to take anything.” He stresses the word to be clear, forcing Johnny back down when he tries to buck Ghost off again. This time he stays in place, both calves pinned down to the mat, cheek pressed into the fabric when Ghost slots a hand into the scruff of his mohawk, forcing his head down. “Quit struggling—you’re not getting back up. We’re sorting this shit out now so you quit moping around base and giving me a fuckin’ headache.”

“Stop exaggerating—I havenae even opened my mouth around ye in days. I’m no’ doing anything to your head—”

“How the fuck am I supposed to think when you keep running away?”

The air hangs heavy in the wake of his words, the oxygen all but sucked out of the room. 

“The two of you are mine,” Ghost says in a low, harsh voice, the sound making Johnny flinch against the mat. “I’m not asking for just one of you. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I’d leave you out of this, mutt.”

He’d sooner lose them both, but that’s another scenario that he’d never tolerate. 

With some effort, Ghost tips Johnny over onto his back, holding him down before he can start to struggle again. He keeps his wrists trapped behind his back, forcing Johnny to arch his back off the floor, presenting himself. From his vantage point, it’s easy for Ghost to flick his gaze down and find Johnny’s dick pressed hard against the zipper of his pants, all plumped up from being pinned to the ground. 

“Good, you’re already hard,” Ghost grunts approvingly, rolling his hips down to alleviate some of the pressure building up in his groin. “Haven’t come since she left the other week, I bet.”

Panic flares red hot in Johnny’s eyes, widening when Ghost settles deeper between his legs, his own hard cock unmistakable. “Wait—wait, Ghost—I’m no’—I’m no’—”

It would be a stretch to say that anything softens in him, but a part of Ghost does feel for the boy. He’s been around Johnny long enough to know his persuasion—strictly women with the occasional appreciative glances towards some men. An appreciation he relegates to furtive, guilty glances, holding it inside of him like a nasty secret that he’ll never part with. Too riddled with Catholic guilt and the ease of just playing it straight. 

Ghost has no intention of making it easy on him though. 

He tries to imagine what it might be like if he were on the other end, but for him it’s only ever been cunts and Johnny and the bird. Now just the latter two hold any weight. 

His protests only last as long as it takes Ghost to unfasten their belts and zippers, fishing Johnny’s cock out first. The second his rough hand wraps around Johnny’s length, the words die on the boy’s lips, replaced by a choked off grunt. His balls are full enough to corroborate Ghost’s words—he probably hasn’t come since seeing his girl off the other day, too frustrated and upset to jack off, the ducts shut, working himself up into a frothy mess only for it to slip right out of his hands at the last second. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back when Ghost grips both their cocks in his fist, slicking his hand up with Johnny’s precome. Sweat sluices down the sides of his neck. He looks good with his tongue tied up in knots, thoughts emptying out through his ears in rivulets. 

Even with Ghost’s hand as big as it is, he can’t wrap it all the way around the two of them. Johnny’s come provides a nice glide though, lubricating the underside of his shaft when Ghost grinds up into his fist. 

It spurs him into a kind of ​​protolithic fervour, desperate only to come. The iron rich scent of blood and sweat makes Ghost salivate, eyes drawn to the tender skin of his neck, the flush now riding high, up and over his cheekbones. Lips bitten red, also swollen with blood. In a better mood, Ghost might indulge him, might roll up his mask and lick into the wet mouth hanging open deliciously, teasing him, but there’ll be time for that later. 

He slurs out Ghost’s name when he comes, Simon ripped from his lips like it was dug clean out of his soul. His come splatters across his belly and shirt in thin, watery spurts, the wind knocked out of him again. 

Johnny squirms when Ghost doesn’t let go of their cocks, hand still dragging up and down, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, fuck, lemme go, I cannae—

“I’ll stroke your cock and grab the bird’s ass whenever I feel like it,” Ghost growls down at him, at the end of his patience now. He pants out a ragged breath when his cock throbs at a particularly whorish moan dropping broken from Johnny’s mouth. “I’ll nut in her cunt and make you lick it out if I want. And you’ll fuckin’ thank me for giving you a taste.”

Johnny almost goes nonverbal at that, a leg trying to kick out weakly even though it’s still pinned down under Ghost’s heavy thigh. His dick twitches against Ghost’s, a valiant effort. 

When Ghost comes, it settles in a thick, viscous mess across Johnny’s stomach, pooling around his belly button. It radiates hot down his back, the ache in his lower spine abating momentarily. Can only imagine how much better it would feel balls deep in Johnny’s ass or the bird’s pussy, a wet warmth clutching him tight, legs wrapped around his waist to drag him closer. 

He’ll have that soon enough.

A ragged wheeze is pulled from Johnny’s chest when Ghost drags his cock through it, spreading it over his stomach. It’s worse when Ghost dips his fingers into the mess, a sticky blend of both their come, before bringing his fingers up to Johnny’s mouth, forcing them past his lips and over his teeth and gums. Johnny sputters at the taste, going cross-eyed to look down at Ghost’s hand. 

There’s no time for pillowtalk or soft words though. Even if there were, niceties come out of Ghost’s mouth like a ring of smoke. Still, the thought of the bird not returning Johnny’s calls or texts makes him bristle, his annoyance renewed. His own disinclination to communicate aside—a waste of words as far as Ghost’s concerned, he says more with his actions anyway—none of this works if the girl won’t talk it out. 

Probably pent up, the stubborn thing. He’ll have to sort that out too. It keeps him young at least. 

“C’mon, Johnny,” Ghost says, rising to his feet. He dusts his hands off on his fatigues as if nothing happened, then holds out a hand for Johnny to grab. “Let’s go see our bird.”

[runa-falls]

I saw that you think Miguel is a thigh man 😩 can I request him x reader who's thighs clap when they run or so some type of activities. I got that problem sadly 😵‍💫😮‍💨

yes, of course!! i love talking ab our thigh fucker ;^)

cw: body insecurities, thigh chafing (yeouch), fluffy reassurances, small bit of smut (OK IM SORRY 😳 i didn't see that coming [yes i did.]), just oral and uh, a bit of marking, not proof read!!

---

you've never enjoyed prolonged physical activity: running, swimming, biking, etc, because you hated the way your thighs would slide against each other; uncomfortably chafing your skin and making noticeable sounds.

so when miguel proposed a hike for your weekly date, you were hesitant to agree. unfortunately, he's very good at persuading you...

that's how you found yourself on a narrow trial shrouded with trees, taking slow, cautious steps as you attempt to keep your thighs from touching as much as usual.

of course, it only helped so much. your inner thighs were still chafing and getting sore, but you try to conceal your pain as much as possible, too embarrassed to mention anything to miguel.

though your boyfriend is the most loving and accepting man you've ever met, you still haven't told him of your insecurity. you're afraid that once you mention something to him, he'll notice your thighs even more.

miguel is pacing himself, making sure to slow down with you so he doesn't leave you behind (he does this hike all the time). he adjusts his baseball cap, making sure his wild curls are smooshed down as he watches you walk toward him.

you look beautiful today. you always look beautiful. but there's something about see you in this condition that make him twitch in his shorts.

he loves the way your chest heaves as you take deep breaths, your tits pressing desperately against the thin fabric. how droplets of sweat roll over the contours of your cleavage, outlining what he wants to see the most. and how your leggings look like they were painted on, completely revealing the overwhelming softness of your thighs and how they press so sweetly together.

he can barely take his eyes off of you.

but he can't help but notice how odd you're acting too.

he's perplexed as to why you're taking such big steps and moving like you'd rather be anywhere but there, with him. why your face is tense, yet completely blank at the same time.

there's clearly something wrong, but you've been silent this whole hike.

"baby, you doing alright?" you seem to be lost in your thoughts as you stare down at your dirt-scuffed sneakers, you don't even notice he's stopped in front of you. he calls out to you again, "babe?"

"hm?" you look up, pausing your unnatural movements to give your legs a rest, "oh, yeah...i'm fine" you attempt a smile, but even you can tell it looks fake and performative. his eyes bloom with concern as he notices how your legs are shaking under you.

"what's going on, sweetheart? are you hurt?"

"no...it's just," you look away, still apprehensive to mention anything.

he pushes, hand reaching for yours, "just what?"

"i-my thighs are chafing..." you say softly, looking back at him. he's frowning. "b-but i can keep going!" you start walking again, willing yourself to continue even though it hurts.

"baby, wait," he stops you, "don't hurt yourself. i didn't realize you were having trouble this whole time."

you shrug, "it's ok, i'm used to it."

"sweetheart, come here." he has his back turned towards you, coaxing you over to him. "get on."

"get on?"

"i'll carry you back to the car."

"no! you don't have to--"

"i want to." he interrupts, "then when we get home, we'll take a nice bath and get you all patched up."

"what about the rest of the trail?"

"we can just get our work out in at home..."

---

you sigh as warm water washes over the inflamed skin of your inner thighs. it stings sharply, but the pain feels oddly satisfying, especially as miguel thoroughly lathers shampoo in your hair.

"feel better?"

you hum, eyes closing as his fingers attentively massage your scalp.

"why didn't you tell me that you were hurting earlier?"

"i dunno, it just wasn't that big of a deal, mig."

"it was. you were barely able to sit without your hands between your thighs."

you snort, "i thought you liked it when i do that."

you yelp when you feel him tug sharply at your hair. "you know what i meant." he growled, clearly unhappy you're trying to avoid the subject.

"it's embarrassing."

"what's embarrassing?" his hands start to cup water onto your head, washing the suds from your hair until you're squeaky clean.

"my thighs." his movements stop suddenly.

"what about them?"

"they're...too big."

"too big?" he genuinely sounds baffled, almost scoffing in disbelief.

"yeah, they're always touching and they make this...clapping sound when i do certain physical movements..."

"so?"

"so?" you turn your head to look at him, questioning eyes meeting his scarlet stare. his red irises are mere slivers with how blown out his pupils are, heavy with lust.

"yeah, so what?"

"so...i don't like them." you voice is small as you look at him shyly, cheeks blooming with heat under the stringiness of your wet hair.

"well i love them."

---

miguel presses gentle and sweet kisses over your tender skin, relieving all the pain from your chafed inner thighs with just a touch of his lips. your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he makes his way up your body.

the prominent shape of his fangs press against his top lip as his sharp maroon stare fixes right at the apex of your thighs. you can tell he's holding himself back by the way his fingers grip bruises into the tops of your legs.

"baby, you have no idea," he takes a deep breath, eyes closed as his nose nuzzles at your inner thigh, "how fucking perfect you are."

"mig, please!"

he smiles cloyingly, letting you watch his fangs retract before he dips his head closer to your center. he wouldn't want to hurt you...

he locks eyes with you when he experimentally slips his tongue through your soaking lips, only giving you enough attention to keep you buzzing. he's delicately laving against you, feeling you tense and pant under him as he slowly builds up your pleasure.

a haze of lust instantly clouds over his darkened eyes and you watch as he gets lost in the taste of you. he pushes in deeper, tongue fucking you, slurping and sucking, while spilling muffled groans over your pulsing cunt as your thighs begin to tighten around him.

he flicks over your aching clit, drinking in your whimpers, moans, and cries as he teases you, pulling back every so often until you bury your hand into his curls and force him down onto you.

you're nearly suffocating him with your thighs when he start suckling you into his mouth, muscles trembling against him as you grow closer to the edge, and he loves it.

his silky lips and slick tongue push you straight off the edge. you hold on to him as your body writhes with white hot pleasure, hand in his hair and thighs around his head. you can barely hear the muffled groans he makes from how lost in ecstasy you are.

but he groans, and grunts, and then freezes.

"did i just..." he unwraps your legs from around him and sits up, tugging his briefs down in disbelief. your bleary eyes open, eyes glazed and unfocused from the intensity of your orgasm. "shit."

you look down and are graced with a beautiful mess that drips from his cock and the black fabric of his boxers.

you can't help the amused smile that spreads over your lips, "you need some help cleaning that up?"

[churipu]

hiii !!

this is my first time requesting smth so sorry if I’m not making sense !! 😭

can u do jjk boys / men with short reader ?? can u also include megumi ?

thank you !

SHORTIE — JJK MEN + SHORT PARTNER

featuring. megumi fushiguro, toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. none

note. hii jelly!! don't worry love you're doing great, and thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long :( i hope you like this. also, guys, omg you don't know how thankful i am to reach 500+ followers in a short amount of time, i'm going to sob. i love you all so much <;33

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. i feel like he doesn't mind at all, he did say his type was someone with an unshakable character — so he could obviously care less about your height. in fact, he'd be pretty much delighted, he finds you adorable (but let's face it, he'd never tell that to your face).

it sounds cliche but megumi would be the one to help you get things from higher places, and when he can't reach them either — he'd carry you up his shoulders to let you grab it. if there's one other thing that he loves besides your personality, it's your height.

so when anyone tries to bring you down with that, megumi would definitely be up to defend you; saying there's no problem with your height and how much he likes that about you.

"what're you talking about? they look just fine." megumi mutters out, scratching the back of his head, his eyes averting to the side.

"so what if they're short? why does that matter?"

"'t doesn't matter what you think, i like them, so what?"

just, he's always going to defend you about your height so the next second you feel conscious about it — he's going to ask you if anyone said anything, and if you said yes (he'll make sure to find out who it is behind your back), and if you said no (he'll tell you how much he loves you, your height, and everything about you).

TOJI FUSHIGURO. big tease, will definitely make fun of your for it, he calls you "shortie", it's just his default nickname for you. the first time het met you, he's just decided that he'd go with the name "shortie" instead of "y/n".

he's going to ask you to grab something for him, and when you realized it's something out of reach, it's just his act to make fun of you, "hey shortie, grab my favorite mug for me."

and when you opened the mug cabinet, his mug is just sitting on the very top — you looked at him with a defeated smile and let out a laugh. he would always end up taking it for himself, patting your head on the way with a satisfied laughter.

though sometimes, you feel a little self-conscious when he makes fun of your for your height, and toji would caught up to it almost immediately.

"what's up, shortie? why'd you look so sad, hm?"

"am i really that short?" he cocked his eyebrow and hummed out, signaling that it's a yes indeed. but he scoffs after.

"so what?" he mutters out, laying his hand on top of your head before walking away, don't worry it's just his way of telling you he loves you. you'd feel so much better after that.

that's why he kept calling you shortie, no matter how self-conscious you get, he ends up encouraging you about it. so he never bothered stopping (and he never thought of stopping the nickname).

GOJO SATORU. like toji, i feel like gojo is a big tease as well. he absolutely loves your height, he's a tall man, and having such a short partner is a fun thing to him. he loves making fun of you (in a cute way) — and so you didn't mind it at all, since you know that gojo didn't mean it literally.

"oh, i didn't see you there! you're so small i could just step on you." he marvels out with a toothy grin before scooping you into his embrace.

with that being said, gojo absolutely loves carrying you on top of his shoulders, and when he has the chance to, he won't waste the chance to ask you how it feels like to be so much taller. you always comply with his jokes as well so he loves teasing you a lot, cause you give out reactions to him.

"how does it feel to be tall?" he asks you, hand gripping on your hips, holding you in place so you wouldn't fall.

"not bad, definitely could feel the heat up here, must suck being so close to the sun," you replied back, patting his head gently and gojo chuckles, letting you down.

being short isn't so bad when you have a giant to protect you from the heat, he's like your personal umbrella. so, you weren't going to complain about it at all.

also, gojo wouldn't let you talk bad about your height. he's your number one fan, don't tell me otherwise.

NANAMI KENTO. he absolutely adores you. he loves how his shirt looks big on you, he loves how small you look next to him, he loves how you always use him as a shield for anything, he just loves you.

most of the time, you'd feel a little bad about your height — but nanami would tell you how it doesn't matter and how much he loves you. he has his ways of showing his love to you and your height. nanami would sometimes use you as a place to rest his arm, at first you thought he was making fun of you, but he wasn't and i guess it's now just a normal thing for the both of you.

nanami loves tucking your head under his chin when you're both relaxing, watching a movie, cooking, anything — he just loves pulling you close and laying his chin on top of your head. he tells you it feels comfortable, and so that has also been a normal thing for the both of you.

having a small height means teeny tiny body parts. your hands, especially; he's in love with how small they are compared to his. how your hand always tugs on his shirt when you're out, he's hand would engulf yours completely, and he makes sure you're well taken care of when you both go out (it would be hard if you'd get lost in the crowd).

one thing he adores is a habit that you always do when he's busy. of course you wanted attention, and when you wanted his attention — he'd find you tugging at his shirt, his suit, his hand with your own while muttering out a, "boyfriend, boyfriend".

he's just so in love with you and everything about you, and with that, you've slowly come to love your own height. thanks to him.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Howdy! It's me again

How are you? I hope you are fine, and if not, then I encourage you from here!

Well, I would like to order something in which our dear Willy gets a little jealous because someone entered the factory and started flirting with his partner (reader) And that leads to a very affectionate moment between reader and Willy

Por cierto, qué le pones a los pedidos que escribes? Los siento muy emocionantes y me ponen a chillar a veces SJSGGWUW

(By the way, what do you put in the orders you write? I find them very exciting and they make me scream sometimes)

.—🌻

Tensions in the Factory [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

nota: ¡me hace muy feliz que te guste lo que escribo! creo que sólo se trata de hacerlo con amor (¿o algo así? jaja) Lamento haber tardado, entré a un trabajo durante vacaciones y apenas me queda tiempo, pero espero que sea de tu agrado, girasol:)

[ENG: It makes me very happy that you like what I write! I think it's just about doing it with love (or something like that? haha) I'm sorry it took me so long, I started a job during vacation and I barely have time left, but I hope you like it, sunflower:)]

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

“Your factory is impressive, Mr. Wonka,” said the man next to the boy, with a satisfied smile on his face after the tour he had given him.

Willy was pleased with the investor's recognition that he intended to finance a new branch for Wonka chocolates and if everything continued as expected, he knew that that same afternoon they would be signing a contract.

“I'm glad you like it. This is where all the magic happens, so I hope that with that new store things are even more promising for us.”

He wanted to add something else when, suddenly, he was interrupted by the vision of a person; it was you, beckoning to him from the other side of the factory with a board holding papers. He knew it had to be something important or else you would have waited, so he apologized to the young man at his side and walked quickly until he reached you.

“Oh, I'm sorry to bother you, but one of the machines that churns the chocolate is jammed and making a mess in there, do you think you can check it?” you murmured, sounding slightly worried about the situation.

“Yes, I'll go right away. While you will talk to Mr. Salt? Tell him to excuse me for a moment”

"Yes, I will do it"

“You're an angel, thank you for letting me know,” he said goodbye, gently caressing the side of your face and practically running to solve the problem you had just told him about.

The man looking at you curiously from the other side couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Willy and he was handsome, dressed in a gray formal suit that was worthy of a businessman. You had heard that he had a lot of money and although at first the chocolatier was not very convinced, after thinking about it better he believed that it was a good time to expand his horizons; that included having more stores to sell more chocolates. He had told you about the idea and you had been excited about it, so you motivated him to contact interested businessmen.

Although you didn't really enjoy talking to strangers, you took a deep breath and walked over to where the man was to greet him.

“Mr. Salt?” you said timidly, to get his attention. He watched you for a moment and when he got a better look at you, then he smiled hugely.

“Just call me Henry, Henry Salt. It's my pleasure," he replied, reaching out to shake your hand a little longer than expected. "Are you Mr. Wonka's secretary?"

It wasn't the first time a guy thought that about you, after all you were always behind your boyfriend with that board in your hand, writing things down, checking the operation, and reminding him of everything, however, Willy had always said that you were his partner and he wouldn't expect anyone to disparage your position: this factory belongs to both of us, he always said. 

But it was easier to say yes than to explain all that.

“Something like that. He asked me to tell you that he had to attend to an emergency, but that he will be right back.”

"Oh, sure. There is no problem with it as long as you keep me company” he said happily.

The man was looking at you up and down, as if you were the most interesting thing he had seen in the factory so far, but you didn't notice it, because you were too focused on the thought of how Willy was handling the machinery.

“Did you like the factory?” you exclaimed, trying to get a topic of conversation that would kill the silence that had enveloped you.

You could tell that he was an educated man, because he immediately started talking to you about the structure of the building, finances, what a good investment it would be to open a branch and also about how much he loved chocolate.

“I have a daughter named Veruca. She is just a baby, but I hope to be able to give her everything she wants in the future. I only plan to work to fulfill her whims”

“Ow, that's sweet,” you tried to flatter. At least his motives were noble.

“She looks a little like you, actually. You are very beautiful"

You had to admit that the comment threw you off, but you still laughed nervously. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you, so you could persuade Willy to close the deal with that man.

“Huh, I appreciate it, Mr. Salt.”

“What are your favorite chocolates? I imagine that being here you eat them in droves, right?” he murmured.

You hoped that with that the conversation would take a different direction, so you started talking to him about all the types of chocolates that Willy prepared for you: the sweet ones, some salty ones, the magical ones, the strange ones...

“But I think my favorites are definitely the mint chocolates. They may be simple, but Mr. Wonka prepares them in an exceptional way," you said dreamily, remembering that upon discovering it he had prepared an entire jar just for you.

“When the branch is open, you can stop by to eat all the mint chocolates you want. At a special price for special ladies”

You laughed at that, not so much out of desire but out of commitment to the potential client. Suddenly a hand was placed on your waist and when you turned in the direction of the body that had approached you, you noticed that it was who it could only be. You frowned slightly when you noticed that he was frowning, as if something had bothered him.

“I'm sorry I was late. Everything is in order now, would you like to accompany me inside, Mr. Salt?” he said. His voice sounded calm and stern, without that cheerful tone he always had, and he still had one hand planted firmly on your body.

“Of course,” the chocolatier made a sign for the opponent to start walking and he did not take his eyes off him at any time, noticing that Mr. Salt was looking at you with the same interest.

If he was unhappy with something, he didn't say it, and he just left a gentle kiss on your head.

“See you in a bit, okay?” You nodded and pushed him just a little, inviting him to follow the businessman you had just spoken to. He got lost down the hallway and you returned to your tasks, not imagining the feeling that was bubbling in your partner's chest.

“That man is a complete idiot.”

You were surprised to hear the boy use those words and, above all, by the furious tone with which he had expressed himself. You interrupted your tasks of making dinner to pay attention to him.

“Who are you talking about?

“From Mr. Salt, of course! I didn't sign the contract with him. Don't even think about it, he's a… a complete nutcase”

"What are you talking about? What happened?" you asked, completely surprised by what he was telling you. You put everything aside to approach him and held his face to analyze his expression: it was extremely strange to see him this upset “Honey?”

“He was flirting with you! Don't think I didn't notice, when I left, he... he started talking to you that way. And not satisfied with that, he called you my assistant and then he hinted that he wanted a romance with you. He said punctually: I hope that, if I open this new branch, you will send your pretty assistant to help me with everything necessary” he was red with anger as he said that and he had to breathe for a moment to compose himself. "So I told him immediately that there was no deal if he dared to talk about my wife like that.”

There was too much to process at once. You felt disgusted at the idea that another man had shown interest in you, but at the same time you were surprised by how he had reacted. Willy wasn't a possessive husband, but right now you were feeling something strange about this side of him.

“You don't have to worry about that…”

“Of course I have to. You're beautiful and I'm sure everyone realizes that, but I won't let anyone look at you like he was looking at you. It is my job to protect you and that includes not entering into relationships with those who want to take advantage of you.”

He sounded sincere and passionate when he spoke, convincing you that he was very serious about the matter. Contrary to what he expected, you smiled and cupped his cheeks again to kiss him on the lips. He melted at the touch, you knew it by the way his shoulders completely relaxed and his hands came up to hold your elbows during the seconds you were kissing him.

Once he was more relaxed, you spoke.

“It's all right, love. Can you calm down?” you asked him. Your hand began to gently caress his cheeks and your eyes looked pleading, something he couldn't resist. “You shouldn't have wasted such an opportunity, but... I appreciate that you rejected it. For me"

“I would do anything for you,” he said immediately. Suddenly he felt the urge to kiss you again and he did, deeply and lovingly. You didn't resist.

“You're my only boy, you know that? No one in the world could take me from your arms” 

“That's not my fear, I know that nothing can separate us” he assured you, smiling from ear to ear. That's how sure he was about yours, that agreed with the pair of rings on your fingers “Besides, there will be more opportunities, you don't have to feel guilty about anything.”

“I don’t,” you exclaimed, to reassure him. You knew he had done the right thing and you loved him for it “Are you hungry? I'm making you something for dinner” you confessed and then he nodded.

He could smell what you were cooking and when you reached out to stir the contents of the saucepan with a stick, he hugged you from behind, starting to talk about something more trivial than that failed business and feeling clearly relaxed, now that he knew he was and he would always be the only owner of your heart.

[shooting-love-arrows]

could you write where darling wakes up and sees 1950s husband in the middle of his morning routine and finds out hes not as neat as they thought?

but instead of taking it badly they love him even more

Dear Anon,

Aww, that's heartwarming!

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 and not so perfect morning

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied) Tw. angsty, hurt and comfort. A/N: I decided to take into consideration this question when writing this fic. So it is longer and about our dearest 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Squeeack…

You were awoken by the quiet and familiar sound of the bathroom door being open. It means only one thing: your dear husband was currently in the bathroom. Like every other day during this time around.

“Ugh…” A soundless groan of misery left your mouth. Unluckily you didn't sleep well that night. Your sleep was shallow and you couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. Not to mention you woke up to every sound you could hear. And just when you were slipping into a blissful dreamland, your bathroom doors decided to prevent you from slipping further. For now, you snuggled closer to your fluffy pillow. Your thoughts began to roam freely but at some point focused on something that has been bothering you for a while. 

It was confusing. 

At the very beginning of your marriage, you found it surprising. Not many people were that determined to wake up early in the morning. After a few months, you reasoned that it was just part of his personality. Perhaps a perfectionist problem? Part of his routine he didn’t want to stray from? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to pray. Your logic was that if he wants to share it with you, he’ll do so. But after months turned into years, with you still being left in the dark, you began to feel…doubt. 

“Why does he do that?” You wondered more than once. You had no idea what was the reason why your sweetheart got up before you, shuffled around the bathroom, only to come back to bed right before your alarm clock rang, like nothing ever happened. “What does he do there? Should I ask him? Does he want me to ask him? Maybe I should wait for him to tell me himself?”

So many questions, so little answers…

You sighed heavily. It looks like you won’t be able to catch some zzz’s anymore. You were too awake, especially with your mind running miles an hour.

“What a pity…” You rolled over your back and groggily opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyesight. The familiar white ceiling of your cozy bedroom greeted you like an old friend. Streams of warm sunlight were shyly peaking in the room from behind the gaps of the closed curtains. Everything stood still. It was peaceful. You let yourself sink into the soft bed and strained your ears to hear your husband shuffling in the bathroom. You wanted to say you were content but… “What a pity he isn’t here with me…”

You let your eyes slide over to the other side of the bed. It tugged on your heart that it was cold and empty with a messily thrown blanket and a pillow with a dent the size of your husband's head is what has greeted you. It was a let down. You wished he was there to greet you with his brilliant smile that seemed to light up the room, whisper to you a ‘good morning, my darling’ that always caused your heart to skip a beat and let you kiss his soft lips that perfectly molded with yours. This is what you needed to start a good day. 

Involuntarily you did a big and satisfying stretch. Your body felt heavy and begged you to stay in. Just lay down…under those fluffy blankets. Let yourself relax and wait for your dearest husband to climb back beside you. Wake up to him and cherish those kisses you'll share…

“I’m spoiled fella, aren’t I?”

There was no point in dwelling about such matters this early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, you bravely fought those demons of laziness and decided to get up. You decided to invest this energy in something productive instead. And there’s so much to do around the house! 

“Hold on a moment…isn’t my husband in the bathroom?” Your mind went blank before you eagerly jumped out of your bed. You wouldn’t miss a chance to spend more time with the love of your life. 

You shuffled towards your bathroom, barely containing your happiness. So high on positive emotions and not expecting anything unusual, you didn’t even hesitate to open the door. 

Squeeack!

There was a beat of silence. Both of you froze for entirely different reasons. 

You stopped mid stride when entering the small space. Your jaw went slack when your eyes took a closer look at your husband. Your shoulder dropped and you took a deeper breath. His face was…bare. His glistening face seemed to be freshly washed since it was glowing in the warm light. He…he was mesmerizing. 

While you were too busy admiring the entirely new side of your husband you didn’t notice how 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 seemed to be feeling the exact opposite of you. His eyes widened till the white was showing around his irises and his stare didn’t dare to stray from you. His breathing quickened and his body began to fold, hoping to make himself smaller. 

This couldn’t be happening…it can’t be! How…why are you awake? Why are you here? You…fuck…you found him out!

“Swee — ”

“This can’t be happening…! You…no…how…?” You were cut off by your husband's quiet and wobbly muttering. Your eyebrows threw together and your body grew still. You were quick to note how your husband hid his face from you and was hunched over the sink. You heard just how heavy his breathing has become. Something was clearly wrong. 

“Sweetheart…?”

The reality around 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 became more vivid. His senses heightened to the point he was sure he could feel his surroundings. He was sinking so deep into his headspace he began to get lost there. Everything was becoming too much. His head, his thoughts and his feelings were ripping him apart. And the reason behind it was very valid. Whatever he has built around his person, whatever worth he had in your eyes and the control were gone with the swing of those blasted doors! 

“Dearest?”

He was falling apart. 

You flinched back (but only because you didn’t expect it) when he started laughing hysterically. Your concern for your husband only grew tenfold when you saw his state worsening by every second. You wanted to help him however you didn’t understand what could be the cause of this. Was it…you?

It turns out you didn’t have more time to analyze the situation, because you had to rush over when you saw your husband crumbling to the floor. Before his body could hit the ground at full force, you caught him safely in your arms. He was hyperventilating and you feared that he would pass out from the lack of air. His body was shaking badly and muttering things under his nose like a madman. Just like you did many times before in different scenarios, you tucked his head into the crook of your neck, laid your chin on top of his head, brought him safely into your arms to hold him tightly. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 closed his eyes, brought his knees close to his chest and circled his arms around them. He curled into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth in your arms. 

Sob…sob…sob…

But your heart broke when you heard the first sobs escaping his lips. 

You really wished you would know what to say or do in that situation. You wished you were more educated on that matter so you could be useful. You wished you could fulfill your role as his lifetime partner to him. Unfortunately, for now you had to rely on your instinct with a promise to be better and aid your husband in the time of need.

Starting now.

“Let it out love…let it out…” You whispered against his ear and started caressing his head. Sweet nothings began to pour out of your mouth soon after. Half of his curls were freed from the curlers and you carefully carded your fingers through them in a soothing motion. 

“Y…you…u…fo…fou…nd…out…!” He wailed in your neck after a while of intense crying. His voice held nothing but despair, pain and heartbreak. Not to mention he could barely speak with how violent his sobs were. You blinked rapidly, scrambling to understand what he meant by that. 

“What have I found out, dearest husband?” You lowered your voice.

“You…you…w…will…leave…leave…me!” He choked out those words like he didn’t hear your question. 

Your eyes widened when you heard this statement. How could he think you’ll leave him? What’s the reasoning behind this logic? Are you failing as a partner? Apparently so because otherwise, your husband shouldn’t be saying, nor even thinking, about such dark thoughts. 

Some moments passed before you opened your mouth again. 

“For better and for worse…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…until death do us part.” You whispered those sacred vows, engraved in your mind till the end of your time. You squeezed him tighter so your bodies were melting against each other. Your husband's eyes widened when he heard them, especially when laced with so much love and adoration just like during your wedding. His chest was heaving up and down, violent hiccups jolting his body. His face was flushed, fat tears pouring from his eyes and snot steadily coming down his nose.

He was at his worst, ugly and disgusting. And you…you dared to say those words? Why…?

“Be it whether you’re at your best, at your worst, when we’re young and when we’ll grow old, whether you wear your makeup or not. I am here for you.” You swallowed thickly and fought against your own tears. Your husband needs you and you won’t fail him ever again.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 processed your words before he let out another wail that echoed in the bathroom. You felt your husband latching onto your waist and clutching onto it tightly. He was afraid that if he won’t hold tight enough you’ll get up and leave him for good. He buried his face in your neck and continued to cry harder. He was reduced to a crying mess and shadow of the person he usually portrays himself as. 

“I will never cease to love you, the dearest love of my life.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[jasmineoolongtea]

― if you think i'm pretty 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚

― the ways in which they lay their hands on you and can't stop thinking about it ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, quite suggestive (all characters are aged up!!!!), a lot of touching, making out, both reader and characters are needy and down bad for each other what can i say a/n: inspired by if you think i'm pretty by artemas and baby by madison beer, as you can see, i was very inspired for some of them compared to others so don't mind the difference in length djkajdwd

gojo satoru can't help but have his hands on you at all times. it's a genuine problem. some might even call it a disease or affliction, a deadly illness if you want to go that far.

whatever it is, he doesn't think he wants to find a cure for it. not when he can so easily coax out those wonderful sounds from you with the brush of his fingertips, those noises that are reserved just for him even though you try and deny it, and especially not when you decide you want to try and turn the tables on him.

that's how he finds himself underneath you on the floor of an abandoned office, his wrists pinned above his head as a devilish smirk graces his features. you're hovering above him, one hand locking his troublesome hands in place while the other is pressed against the cold floor to support your stance. right now, he's thinking about how this might be one of his favourite angles to look at you from.

he knows you're trying to tease him back, testing his patience and will to resist like he does with you, in a sort of punishment for his wandering hands but he can't even hide how much he's visibly enjoying this moment. it annoys you, deeply. you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, shifting your weight onto your knees to free up your other hand so you can run it down from his neck and stopping just right where his belt sits which earns you a breathy gasp from him.

you smile to yourself, clearly pleased at your own doing. but you don't have long to celebrate your victory as it seems you've underestimated how thin his patience runs when it comes to you. in an instance and in one fell swoop, you're flipped onto your back as satoru is now the one caging you against the floor. your faces are barely inches from each other when he leans in, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he whispers,

"it's my turn now."

geto suguru thinks apologies are useless. in most cases, he rather you show him instead.

to him, words often get in the way of many things and even more so when emotions come into the mix, scrambling them up to the point where they are nothing more than regurgitated word vomit. he's a firm believer in the phrase, actions speak louder than words, and he's definitely not shy about carrying out said belief in his daily life.

why tell you how much he wants you when he can simply show you through how his hand never seems to leave your waist even in the most crowded of places and how his lips seem to find yours in an instance as if he's worried that they might miss his company even if just for a second.

the same goes for you. why tell him how sorry you are when you can just show him? and so you do, caressing his jaw with your fingertips while your lips roam the expanses of his neck and collarbones, making it their sole mission to map out and commit each curve and mark to memory. every kiss you place is an apology in its own way and it makes the both of you forget what you two were even in arms over anyway.

"satisfied yet, sugu?" you murmur against his skin, the sound of your voice sending tiny vibrations that grants you a pleased hum from him.

too bad for you, it turns out that he's tough to please, or rather just tough to fully satiate his seemingly insatiable appetite for you.

"not yet. actually, far from it."

kento nanami is pretty sure that you're trying to punish him for something he did.

maybe it was because he didn't tell you what was truly on his mind when he came home from work last night in fear or burdening you with worries or maybe it was because he didn't touch you then, even though he knew that you were looking too good for no one to be touching you like they should.

but whatever it is, he knows that whatever you are doing, it's dangerous.

you two were in public, wide out in the open. he could feel his breath hitch in his throat as you nudge your heel against him, dragging lazy lines up and down his leg and stopping just right next to his upper thigh before disappearing again underneath the cover of the table. as usual, you offer him no visible reaction that could possible give away your true intentions to him, just a ghost of a coy smile on your lips.

was this fun for you? to test his resolve as a gentleman, drawing it thinner and thinner into a taught line ready to snap at any second? or did you just want to see first-hand what it would be like to see come undone from your actions alone. knowing you, it would probably be the latter but he could never know for sure as it seemed that he would inexplicably always play into your hand.

with each lingering touch wherever you could get your hands on and each teasing glance at his necktie, as if you were already trying to undress him with your eyes, he had never wanted to throw caution and any ounce of public decency he still had at this point and return the favour to you.

god, you were going to be the death of him.

fushiguro megumi thinks that you're a handful and isn't shy about making it known to you.

it doesn't help him at all, of course, only earning him a sly grin from you as you continue with your wandering touches and teasing kisses, lingering on certain areas such as right under his jaw where you know you can elicit a low breathy groan from him. he tries to hide his reaction in an attempt to not give you more fuel to continue but he fails every time with his body betraying him as the tips of his ears seem to grow impossibly redder and he even finds himself subconsciously leaning into your touch.

in response to his words, all you say is, "hmm maybe, but that's what hands are for." as if to prove your point, you entangle one of his hands with yours, pulling it closer towards you and placing it right in the middle of your chest like you were inviting him to do some of his own exploration himself. he avoids your gaze, knowing the moment he made eye contact he would be done for and whatever was holding him back now would shrivel into nothing in an instant.

you giggle softly to yourself, showcasing your obvious amusement at how much he's trying to prove that he's stronger than this. you lean in closer towards him, your faces barely centimetres apart as you murmur, "and last time i checked, i'm pretty sure you have two of them."

that's when he makes his fatal mistake, looking down to see your plump lips just a breath away from his and noticing how your eyelashes flutter softly as you, in turn, look up at him through them. he can imagine your body on his lips and that's all that it takes him to use his free hand and to close the distance between you two as your lips crash against each other.

screw this, he doesn't want to wait anymore.

okkotsu yuuta is obsessed with you to the point where to others, it could be seen as concerning. thankfully for the both of you, he's never been much to care for other's opinions.

it doesn't matter if you manage to kill him, whether intentionally or unintentionally, because no matter what, he'll just come back more obsessed with you. a fact that he so clearly demonstrates whenever you're around him.

"p-please," he mumbles against your lips, his fingers tightening their grip around your cheek, "don't go." his voice is shaky with a tinge of desperation and his pupils are so enlarged with his unquenchable thirst and desire for you that you've lost track of the whites of his eyes. to him, even parting for a breath of air when it comes to you is a painful act that causes his heart to ache and swell.

yuta's never been much of a sweet tooth but he thinks you taste like the sweetest candy that could ever exist and it's as if you're covered in a layer of sugarcoating he wants to be the only person who has the privilege of being able to lick it off with his own lips. your hand snakes its way up his arm and around his neck, pulling him tighter into your grasp and he takes this as his cue to dive back into your lips.

at this point, he's no better than an addict with how much he's greedily devouring you with his mouth, wholeheartedly consuming you with every fibre of his being as his tongue desperately awaits to explore more of you and see if this is the only place that you taste sweet. all good things in this world cost something and you're no exception but whatever the price is, he doesn't care because he'll pay for it.

hopefully, he's planning to repay it now in his own sort of way.

[lolokouhm]

Could you rail me? pt. 2

Don’t overthink it. Just let go.

Sounds easy, right?

Not for Megumi, no.

Especially with your body in his T-shirt underneath him. On his own bed, in his own bedroom, way after dark, with some faint sound of an autumn playlist that’s been playing for hours now. 

Right now, there are two problems.

First of all - he’s not a virgin, but he wouldn’t call himself a sex god either, by no means. It’s not like female pleasure has been some sort of black magic he hasn’t learned - the few girls he’s been with seemed rather satisfied and they even tried to contact him the day after, but he rarely replied. Not that he ghosted them, rather politely suggested that he wasn’t interested in exploring the relationship (or situationship) further. That was the truth - he wasn’t. He couldn’t force himself to do that, it would be simply rude. The girls could be nice, but they just weren’t you. And when the thought pops up in his head, he’s shattered. „Rather satisfied” with you won’t do. It just won’t. You need to see stars. Hell, fucking galaxies - which leads straight to the second problem.

Megumi is pretty sure the moment you touch him he will come. Like, straightaway. 

But you don’t mind. Like at all. Because the way he looks at you, so hungry, so messy - it’s so different from his usual IDGAF attire and that honestly turns you on beyond comprehension. You lean in and pull him into a kiss, another one of these incredible ones you’ve shared in the kitchen a few moments ago. These are enough to make you see stars, as his fingers slowly slide down your collarbone.

„Please”, you whimper and he pulls back, startled by your tearful tone. God, you’re so pretty. „Touch me, Megumi. I need you.”

And for the first time in forever, Megumi actually lets go.

He doesn’t hesitate anymore - with a low groan his hands travel under your T-shirt and he closes his eyes when his cold hands finally land on your tits. He leaves a few more kisses on your neck, caressing them gently at first, but getting more and more rougher with every squeeze. They are so soft. He imagined how they would feel many, many times - you’ve even caught him staring once when you went to the beach back in the summer. You made a snarky comment about respectful men being disrespectful, but he brushed it off with such disinterest that you couldn’t possibly know what was going on in his head. But this - this is different. He wants to see them, not in the bikini, not in the bra, and the curiosity wins. He catches the hem of your T-shirt and rolls it up to expose your body, and you don’t even have time to say his name before he’s sucking your left nipple, gently swiping his thumb over the right one.

„Fuck, Megumi. It feels so good.” His tongue is circling over your protruding buds and you’re so impossibly wet that you’re scared you’re actually going to drown. It’s like he’s got some spidey sense or something, because the moment you think about it his hand is already reaching down and grabbing the boxers he gave you. You try to lift your hips to help him, but he’s doing just fine. A silent curse leaves his lips as he feels, on his own fingers, how wet you are and just the sensation makes his head spin. He caresses your clit for a moment, but you really don’t need any additional stimulation. You need him inside. Now.

So that’s what you get. The T-shirt falls back on your breasts as Megumi moves down and slides the boxers off you, full of slick and completely ruined. He hasn’t even taken a single part of his wardrobe yet, he really doesn’t want to stop pleasuring you, no matter how tight his own boxers feel right now - but it’s just too hot, so he finally gets rid of the sweater and you just stare in awe. You’ve seen his bare chest before, but not like that. He’s sculpted in the tastiest way possible. 

„Come here.” You suddenly feel his hands on your thighs as he’s dragging you down the bed, just a little bit so your hips are on the verge of the mattress. „Tell me if it feels good, okay? I… I really want you to feel good. So if it’s not it then you need to say it.” 

With wide-opened eyes you observe as Megumi gets on his knees in front of the bed, placing your legs on both of his shoulders, and you could swear you’re salivating.

„I’m not the one who has problems with expressing — fuck.” You don’t really have time to think about it any further as you suddenly feel his tongue on your clit - he moves it up and down, slowly and delicately, trying not to overwhelm you with the sensation. „That definitely doesn’t feel bad, oh god. W-why are you laughing?” You could swear you heard him chuckle. 

„You’re just so cute” he mutters, slowly sliding his finger inside of you. Your fear is actually becoming reality - if the two of you keep going on like this, Megumi’s going to fucking drown. „And so wet. Oh god.” His voice sounds so hazy and dreamy, as if he wasn’t in his right mind. And maybe he isn’t. You could never imagine him saying these things, but now, with him on his knees in front of you, it’s more than real, even though, at the same time, it isn’t. His left hand is keeping your hips in place, but it’s not the easiest task. Especially with his erection slowly becoming just painful. „And so sweet” he murmurs, and you get the chills - and it’s over. You actually needed his one finger and three compliments to come, and you’re shaking like crazy. 

That’s just embarrassing. 

But Megumi doesn’t see it. He’s in awe. He’s happier the ever, which is pretty ironic, as that’s exactly what plays in the background right now from his speakers. He makes you ride your orgasm out - it’s messy and it gets you a little scared as Megumi really loves to keep things clean - but it’s different for him. He’s high. He’s pussy drunk, no, scratch that. He’s drunk on you. 

You can see that clearly when he’s on top of you again. Not only that - he’s also in pain. And you feel more than determined to help him.

„It’s my turn now”, you whisper, wiggling your way out of his embrace. „You were amazing.” Your hands automatically run to his pants, but before you’re even able to unbuckle his belt, his palm lands on top of your fingers.

„No, (Y/N)…” he mutters, and his gaze is feverish. „If you touch me I’ll come right away.”

„Well, that’s a pity then” you say, still shaking a little from your orgasm. „At least you’ll be coming inside of me.” 

Megumi just groans and his head falls back on the pillow as you continue unzipping his pants, getting rid of your t-shirt somewhere in-between. 

„Don’t say such things.” You feel a squeeze on your thigh as you’re straddling his ABS, his whole body tense with need. „It’s not helping.”

„Just shut up and be my pillow princess now, okay?” You finally manage to get the pants off him and feel nervous again. You expected him to be big, just not that big. And hard. He squirms when your fingers brush against his leaking tip, and then - well, he’s just a moaning mess. It’s still going better than he expected, he thinks when your lips touch him softly.

„Oh, fuck it, just sit on it. Have some mercy.” 

But you don’t. Instead you take him a little bit deeper into your throat and you squeeze his heavy balls, and by that time Megumi’s had enough. The moment his cock leaves your throat he grabs you by the waist and turns you around so you can finally face him. He fixes his position, sitting up and leaning against the bed’s soft headboard, surprising you with his rough movements as you wiggle on his lap.

„I told you” he whispers, fingers sliding from your sweaty forehead to your parted lips. He throws his head back the moment you take his thumb into your own mouth and suck it. „Have some mercy on me.” 

And even though you’d love to play with him more, you just cannot stand the way he looks at you. Like he’s begging. Maybe he really is? 

So you do it.

He still holds you, when you painfully slowly slide down his cock, your walls hugging him so tightly that he’s going insane.

„Fuck” he whimpers. „I didn’t know you’d be so tight.”

„I didn’t know you’d be so talkative”, you purr before leaning in for a kiss. He’s stretching you so much that now you’re grateful for your embarrassing wetness - if you weren’t leaking, you’d have a problem fitting him inside. 

„Are you all right?” he asks, but he already looks so fucked out that the question is just adorable. You finally move, and his head falls back with a moan. „Oh fuck.”

„You need to stop cursing” you whine, trying to set a tempo and then follow it, but your legs feel like jelly. You begin bouncing on him and you’re really grateful for being on top, just for the view - Megumi’s breathtaking. And surprisingly loud. He moans when he sucks your nipples, incredibly sensitive by now and as his fingers brush your clit again, your ability to think logically is completely gone. You chase your next high and then he suddenly stops, grabs you and now he’s on top again, thrusting into you and caressing your pussy in slow, deep strokes. He’s so close, but it’s like a challenge he’s not going to lose - you need to come first, and you need to come on his cock. Megumi is stubborn.

He’s really close to losing, but he perseveres yet again, just to fall apart right after you - your walls squeezing him like that is simply too much for him to handle. Both of you are a moaning, groaning mess as he squeezes your hand so tight you’re definitely getting some bruises from that. Despite being harsh, his touch is full of pure passion and it feels weirdly safe.

His thrusts get more and more sloppier as he’s emptying in you, and it takes a while - you’ve overstimulated him a little too much. After a few final strokes, Megumi’s body finally falls heavy on yours. He should probably pull out, but as his cum is slowly leaking and dripping down the sheets, none of you care. You’re too tired to even move a limb.

„It’s a mess.” That’s a fact, and you just state it. His body against yours. His bed. Your relationship. 

„Yeah.” Megumi nuzzles into your neck as his fingers intertwine with yours, yet again. „But I guess I could live with that.”

masterlist ❤️

[sannie4luv]

Always So Pretty For Me

Pairings: Choi San x f!reader

Warnings: m & f masturbation, phone sex, praise kink, voice kink

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: so I have NOT been able to stop thinking about san being like this and I desperately just want to be his pretty girl and be talked through it by him, I literally wrote this in less than an hour so be nice to me :(, I need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore. Also not proof read so ignore the mistakes :p

With San being on tour, In different cities, Different time zones. You always felt yourself get lonely, not only emotionally, but physically as well. And right now you needed him more than you felt like you ever had in your life. When he would be on breaks from tour or schedules, he always made it a point to satisfy you in all the ways he knew how. Truly he knew your body better than you did. He knew how to make you feel good in the best ways, knew how to touch you so you were ruined for anyone else who tried to, yourself being included.

Here you were sat up in your bed with a sticky feeling between your thighs, one that you knew only San could satisfy. The only problem was, he was thousands of miles away on the other side of the world at this point. It was late at night, around 3am when you decided to go through all your old videos with him. Some of him being sweet and funny, others of him nestled so nicely between your thighs and eating you out like it was his last meal.

One of your favorite attributes about San was he would always talk you through it, knowing you got off on him talking so sweetly to you and praising you like you were the other thing that mattered to him most in the world. “You’re always such a good girl for me Angel, always make the prettiest sounds for me. God I could listen to you moan my name on repeat all fucking day baby, you make me so fucking crazy.” You heard the San in the video say, not doing anything to help the problem between your legs. You gently started touching your hardened nipples through your shirt similar to how he would, but it never felt like he did it. Truly Choi San had ruined you for anyone else.

You touched all over your body softly, eventually leading you to the place where you needed to be touched the most. Still listening to the filthy things that was coming out of Sans mouth on the video, which only spurred you on more. “You gonna cum all over my face angel? Huh? Can you do that for me baby? I know you can because you’re my good girl right? Yeah that’s it baby… that’s it… that’s my pretty girl.” He had said as you came all over his face and fingers in the video. At that point you had decided you couldn’t take it anymore and you needed to call him, just to hear him talk in that deep sultry voice of his.

It doesn’t take San long to pick up, it was the middle of the day for him and thankfully had an off day and was just resting in the hotel, what you didn’t know is he was doing the exact same thing you were. Laid up in bed watching old videos of you too that resulted in a hard Bulge in his pants and nothing but his hand to satisfy it, but he wouldn’t tell you that. “Hey angel, it’s late there no? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He said as he gently palmed the bulge in his pants trying to get it to go down.

“I need you Sannie…” you whimpered out and this made san shoot up in his bed and make his cock even harder than it already was. “You need me baby? What do you need princess?” San had said which only caused you to throw your head back with a soft moan, still touching yourself and feeling unsatisfied because it just wasn’t him doing it. “Need you to touch me… it never feels as good when I do it, I want you to come home..” You moaned out and began to rub yourself faster through your panties. This made San bite his lip and palm his dick a little harder. God if he could he would hop on a flight home and take care of you like you needed to be.

“I want to come home too princess, I’ll be home soon you know that. And I’ll take care of you so well when I do baby, are you touching yourself right now angel?” San said as he slipped his hands in his sweatpants and touched himself through his boxers, letting out a light grunt as the layers got thinner and thinner. “Yes… I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stop thinking about you baby, it doesn’t feel as good when I do it…” you moan out as you moved your panties to the side to finally relieve yourself the way you needed.

“You miss me Angel? I miss you too, was laying here watching old videos of us and came across one of you on your knees with my cock in your mouth. God I wish you were here baby. I wouldn’t be able to take my hands off you.” San said as he finally slipped his hands in his boxers and slowly started pumping his cock up and down. “Rub yourself for me baby, you’re always such a good girl for me. You can do that for me right?” San said as his hand picked up the pace a bit and bit down deeply on his lip, surely he would draw blood to it soon but he didn’t care.

“Ugh fuck San.. it feels so good.” You said as you ran soft circles around your clit, pretty much just getting off on his voice alone. “Slip your pretty fingers inside for me baby, let me hear how much you miss me. God I can’t fucking wait to ruin you when I get home I swear this tour is torturing me with blue balls.” San said as he gripped his cock tighter and went faster. “Wish they were your fingers Sannie… you always fill me up so well.” You said as you pumped your fingers inside yourself trying to match the pace of him pumping his own cock that you heard in the background. You definitely weren’t gonna last long at all, you were already so close.

“Mmm I know Angel, don’t worry it’ll be my fingers soon, but for now I just need you to go faster.. fuck princess I’m not gonna last, always sound so pretty for me when you moan like that.” San said as he felt his high approaching, but he wouldn’t let himself cum until you did first. “Fuck San I’m gonna cum…” you whimpered out as you fucked yourself with your fingers faster, not wanting to cum until he told you to.

“Cum for me princess” just as he said that the knot in your stomach had snapped and you threw your head back with a high pitched moan. Not noticing how you just soaked the fuck out of your sheets. “Fuck that’s it baby… that’s my good girl, always listen to me so well.” San said with a grunt and a shudder as he came all over his stomach. God he wished that it was inside you instead. He always loved watching it drip out of you.

“Show me the mess you made princess, I wanna see what I’m coming home to.” San said as he reached over and grabbed a tissue to wipe his hand clean of the evidence of him cumming from phone sex like a horny teenager. Even though you were on the verge of falling asleep you did as he said and you could hear him moan through the phone, almost convinced he was wanting to go round two. “Fuck baby… you’re such a good girl. Can’t wait to come home and take care of you the way you deserve.” San said as he himself snapped a quick pic of the cum sitting on his stomach, shooting a text a long with it that read “wish it was inside you instead.”

This made you bite your lip and throw your head back, damning your tiredness because if you weren’t on the brink of passing out you would absolutely go round 2 with him. “Miss you so much Sannie…” you said as you felt your eyes grow heavy. San knew you were gonna fall asleep any minute now. “I miss you too angel, get some rest and call me when you wake up. I promise I’ll be home soon before you know it pretty girl, I love you more than anything.” You had let out a soft “I love you too…” before your tiredness got the best of you, and just like that all San could hear was your soft snores through the phone, knowing that it was only him that could bring you that much safety and comfort.

God he really needed to get the fuck home.

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ���need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

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[dreamermonica]

you belong with me !

when someone else approaches their partner, how do they react?

—includes itoshi rin, michael kaiser, itoshi sae

—gender of reader isn't specificied, fluff, established relationships, angy bllk boys, mentions of creeps, unwanted contact and such. first post in this blog, hope everything goes well!

all hell goes loose when RIN catches sight of another person gripping your wrist—especially when you look utterly terrified and confused. they dare to touch someone that is leagues above their own, someone that's already taken by one of the most well-known soccer players in the world, and do it without the bare minimum of consideration for your own feelings? in that very moment, he only sees red.

quickly apprehending the cause of your discomfort by ripping the person's hand off of your arm and retracting you to his chest with a small oomf from you—a harsh glare burns onto the person's face. you could probably see the intensity of his stare just by looking at the person's horrified reaction.

“who are you to touch them like that?” his airy voice brings comfort to the erratic beating of your heart, your tense form slowly melting in his hold.

right now, he doesn't care that he's attracting unnecessary attention. the crowd that's slowly forming around the commotion he'd caused is the least of his problems right now. sure, it'll probably ruin the stealth of your date but he needs to see this insignificant pest to drown in shame until he's satisfied.

“rin—it's fine. this type of stuff is normal, let's just go, hm?” you probably sensed that he was ready to take it a step too far, and when he kills down the glare on his expression to look at you properly with his usual indifferent eyes, you heave out a sigh of relief.

tugging on his coat, you smile at him nervously. “c'mon now! let's resume our date before anyone recognizes you!”

contrary to the usual soft and compliant rin you're used to, he does not budge an inch. seemingly glued to the floor after your words. “what did you say?”

“...huh?”

“before what you just said right now. you mean this type of interaction is normal?”

with how intense his stare burns into yours, you grow sheepish each passing second—hand reluctantly raising to rub the back of your neck in confusion and slight bewilderment.

wait, he didn't know that until now? how are you going to word this properly without sounding sensitive? “well—uh, you see...you're like, crazy popular, and everyone knows i'm dating you, so of course i'd also grow popular too, and then you know you also have some of these crazy fans that hate me and—” you cut yourself off when you feel a familiar air of anger rise once more.

your lover does not reply, and only carefully brings out his phone to dial what you recognize as his manager's phone number—and very, very scary words coming out from his lips while shifting his stare back at the person who's now groveling at his feet.

his little conversation about hiring bodyguards and telling the media they're doomed for affecting your safety does not faze you one single bit. there's only one thought inside your pretty little mind as you stare at the dark expression of itoshi rin.

oh lord. what have you done?

if there's anything KAISER hated more than anything, it would be when someone touches something, or in this case, someone who solely belongs to him. a emperor usually has his own certain treasures, and they're kept away from the hands and eyes of commoners and peasants for a reason. should one give into their selfish desires and attempt to take away his treasures—an inevitable treason is in line.

“what the hell is this? some irrelevant bumpkin treading where he doesn't belong?” with how loud and condescending the blonde sounds, you're certain that he's doing it so that it garners the entire room's attention.

a celebration party is held to commemorate bastard münchen's latest victory—hence the crowd full of friends and families of the football team's members alike are gathered, along with expensive investors and celebrities wanting to meet the famous aces of the country. funny acts committed in parties like these are not common, yet not all that uncommon either.

but it's mostly happens for the nobodies. who would even consider getting too friendly with the infamous partner of michael kaiser—who's offhandedly the embodiment of bastard in bastard münchen?

at the end of the day, it seems there's someone with more-balls-than-brains here in front of him. it's interesting, in a way. kaiser thinks as grins as the man's face contorts into a way that feeds his own sadism. the day was starting to get boring until this little failure came to ruin his—

a gentle squeeze on his hand halts his violent thoughts.

he cranes his neck to look at you with an eyebrow raised, your [e/c] hues glinting in a way that's telling him to stop whatever he's going to do before it goes too far.

contemplating options as the football ace glances back at the man drowning in shame amidst the sea of judgemental looks thrown his way, he heaves a deep sigh. one of defeat rather than disappointment. he's already well-aware of your forgiving nature.

“okay. i'll cut it out. but in one condition,” he looks back at you, squeezing your hand back as a smirk creeps on his face. “we ditch the party.”

“wha—? but isn't this whole event your idea in the first place?” you come nothing short of confused, hand still in his.

“meh, who cares.” he retorts boredly, snapping his fingers to call on forth the body guards hired for the party, before gesturing towards the man—kicking him out for the good and betterment of guests. “it was getting boring anyway. 'only hosted this event just so i could see you all dressed up.”

dressed up for his victory, he chooses not to add to spare your blushing face. that final goal he scored would've made his fans froth at the mouth if they were up close. he briefly wonders if you had reacted the same. er—most likely not, but a man can dream.

“you're so infuriating, you know that?” you comment without any malice, a small smile spreading on your lips when kaiser starts tugging you away from the room filled with expensive champagnes and rich ambassadors. almost feels like a daydream to run away like this, hand in each other while noa's scoldings fall on deaf ears.

a light laugh escapes his lips, “but you still love me anyway.”

he sends a playful wink your way right after, and you might just faint—knees weakened and all.

SAE seems indifferent at first, blankly staring at the person attempting to woo you. is it of disbelief? disgust, even? whatever it was, he just kept staring while the person uttered the most horrendous pick up lines your poor ears have ever heard. you were too preoccupied in tuning out the person's musings to even notice sae moving towards you.

it sure is a pain to have an attractive s/o. the famous football player just went to the bathroom and he comes back to see another man kissing up to you like some dog whimpering for scraps of food. in this case, the scraps of food the dog was getting desperate for was your number. a shitshow, he thinks.

“sorry, but i'm actually waiting for someone.” you finally managed to formulate a sentence without the man cutting it off once again with his terrible lines. you forgo the urge to compare him to an npc designed to rizz up a rock. it was genuinely that bad. bad enough that the rock would probably grow legs just to get away from him.

“you've said that what, three times now? where's that person yer' talkin' about, huh?” the man leans closer while rubbing the insides of his ear, causing you to cautiously take a step back. god, a bath could really help this man, and he's right—where is your boyfriend? “just lemme hit now, you won't regret it one bit—”

a sturdy hand places itself onto the creepy man's shoulder, roughly, and i mean, roughly turning the man around to face a maddened pair of emerald hues. right before you and the man stands an enraged itoshi sae—one of the most well-known aces of the entire country. from the way the man stays paralyzed in his place, it's not hard to deduce that he probably recognizes the living and breathing legend right in front of him.

“out of my sight, unless you want things to get dirty.” the soccer genius is known to be level-headed and rational even in dire situations when it comes to within and outward of the field, so who exactly are you staring at right now?

the redhead coldly dismisses the man with a chilling glare, before approaching you with hands now stuffed in pockets, eyebrows raised as if to question your dumbfounded look. “let's get going. the grime is starting to rub off on me.”

ah, that's right.

you let him grab your wrist to drag you away, his demeanour doing a complete 180 as he asks about what kind of food you'd want to eat today, naming your favourite restaurants one by one whilst he tugs you around, ignoring the double takes of passerbys making sure they didn't just see sae itoshi in the flesh.

the man you're staring at right now...is your lover

the very same man who shut down the touchy feely dude earlier, not to mention him completely dismissing the entire situation as to not ruin your mood, the one who has all your favourite restaurants memorized, the very same guy who invited you out today because he simply wanted to see you and enjoy the day with you, the boy who chose you out of millions, and millions of admirers—

you're simply looking at your boyfriend, itoshi sae. not the genius revered by multiple nations, but simply a man who loves you just as much as you do to him.

a smile spreads on your face as you finally keep up with his pace, now beside him instead of being dragged around like a lost puppy. “hmm, why don't you choose? i'm feeling like trying some new today.”

“okay. we're going spicy then.”

(ik bastard means like sword or smth for germans ok kaiser being THE bastard just sounded right for me)

edit; okay just found out bastard actually means bastard, it makes more sense now

ALSO YES I HC SAE LIKES SPICY FOOD