#it's always disappointing for me. they love it. sure. but I always hate what I make. I make art for one person and it's me

[alien-ally]

Now, idk how but here goes a few things that were dragged out of me, as i witness the split opinions on heesu in class 2. let me start out by saying: i'm a fan of the show :) and i know next to nothing about the manhwa. just so it's clear from the get go.

i haven't watched kdramas in a long while, so i suppose i'd been in the bl bubble exclusively for that entire time. i dont prefer kdramas, or uh straight romances very much personally. hence while watching the first couple eps of heesu, i had pretty much the same reaction. annoyance, disappointment, what more, my interest dropped steadily for a bit until i decided i would drop the show entirely if it dint focus more on the queer storyline, essentially our mc's plot more, in the following episodes. I got on tumblr like i usually do whenever i'm watching one of my bls, and boom, instantly more perspective unlocked. 'thematic foil' the phrase that stuck with me the most. a set of characters in a story getting focus and being followed along their journey apart from the mc, to serve as a foil that demonstrates what exactly the mc could be having, or how it usually goes for the majority of people, a majority our mc clearly isn't a part of. Several characters going about crushes in their own ways, what i enjoyed the most is how the show doesn't subtly pin any of them as 'right' or 'wrong', something i was worried they'd do. Heesu is always supportive of his sisters, no matter what errand he's in the middle of running, he always makes sure they're fine first before heading out. and most importantly, the best advice received by one of the sisters, was in fact not given by the mc but by another sister itself, heejeong to heejae. which i thought was really cool.

Admittedly, i wasn't a fan of the sisters in the beginning, but i guess that's just more on my own cynicism towards dating trends in general. as time passed though, they grew on me significantly. i mean, there's a charming sort of integrity to each sister's ways you can't ignore. another thing: the complaints about no kissing. i hardly ever find this argument to be nuanced, probably the most irritating reason people put out to dismiss an entire show as 'bad'. we see the formation of 2 straight high school couples, along with the boys, now had they been shown kissing or even toeing the lines of any other kind of physical intimacy other than holding hands or hugging, i would've extended that expectation to heesu and seungwon. but here, these kids just are not doing that yet. is that such a hard pill to swallow? bruh, it doesn't become straight washing cause the gay couple dint kiss or cause the straight couple got equal (note: equal) screen time. heesu is not a bl, sure. But it IS a queer kdrama. with a QUEER mc and his QUEER pining classmate (soon to be boyfriend) who has TWO moms. the third thing isn't focused on a lot but man i loved that scene in the last episode where seungwon's mom asks how much she should disclose at the meeting. and his reply, 'if you start lying, i'll have to continue it'.

Now. the last scene, which the non-fans seem to hate the most. but in fact the scene i loved the most. heesu looks back at chanyoung and jiyu walking close behind them, watches cy put his arm around jy with something like yearning flickering in his eye, he turns around, blinks it away and goes back to smiling. seungwon notices, puts his arm around heesu and when heesu kinda hesitates, asks him not to worry (about getting outed basically) cause people are just gonna assume they're close friends or some shit. like all throughout history, this has been used to erase queer people and their relationships. why not use it to your own advantage now? my favorite thing about his dailogue tho, is that it's meant to be reassuring. Seungwon is reassuring Heesu that he's proud about their relationship and wouldn't mind making it public. that he's fine with people finding out. how great is that to hear, when you've been shouldering all this turmoil alone for years, like how Heesu has been doing? Wonderful scene. episode 8,9 and 10 were my favorites and i would totally recommend this show to anyone looking for a wholesome little QUEER teen kdrama experience.

[mariathechosen1]

I love it when you play so much DnD that your character choices sorta come full circle:

In your first ever game you might start out as a human fighter, or an elven rogue, or maybe just a half-elf wizard, and then you slowly progress to warlocks and artificers, homebrew perhaps??

But then at some point…you just sorta return to the basic???

For example: I had a moment after a one shot (one that several different groups had all played through separately) where a member of a different group, who had played DnD a year or two, had asked me, who at that point had played for about 5 years, what character I was playing.

I, of course, started ranting about what role in the party I wanted to explore and how I felt the role of ‘maternal’ and ‘the moral one’ was so often associated with being dull when in fact there’s so much unexplored potential in it, and how I wanted to challenge myself by being a character who truly wears their heart on their sleeve and-

Then he asked “ok, but what class and race are you tho?” “………….human fighter” “Ah. There’s no shame in being a bit basic I guess”

[felixcatton]

oh just spoiled ted lasso for myself and i fear i’m never gonna catch up on it now

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

i'm gonna be real. there's definitely plenty that can be criticised about la palma. but the reviews on google that are like come on they only knew each other for like TWO DAYS and they were doing THIS?? in regards to the lesbian relationship? you're underestimating how fast lesbians work. i'm sorry but you're wrong on that note

[miraclemaya]

MADOKA - “I’m thinking I’ll order a beef udon bowl, since Sayaka-chan told me that they make those really good here. What about you, Homura-chan?”

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - Food needs can be met with an expenditure of 1.23% of total magic. Proceed?

GRIEF SYNDROME [Trivial: Success] - MAGICAL GIRLS THAT IGNORE FOOD ARE OFTEN MORE PRONE TO GRIEF ACCUMULATION. MY ARMS WILL ALWAYS BE WAITING FOR YOU, HOMURA, BUT IT’S IMPORTANT TO BE HAPPY UNTIL THAT DAY. BESIDES, MADOKA WANTS TO EAT WITH YOU. DISAPPOINTING HER WILL FILL YOUR SOUL GEM WITH A HALF A GRIEF SEED WORTH OF DESPAIR.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN [Legendary: Success] - Sayaka says the beef bowl is good? Maybe go for that. She knows Madoka’s tastes better than anyone — and if Madoka likes something, you will certainly like it too.

“I will have the same as you, Madoka.”

“I’m not feeling very hungry.”

[CALL AND RESPONSE - Medium 10] Come up with an order on your own

CALL AND RESPONSE - [Medium: Failure] - You’ve eaten here before, you’re pretty sure. Was it Loop 32… no, Loop 12..? No, wait, it was on the first Friday of Loop 68. No… that’s not right. You’ve never eaten here before. In a stunning display of incompetence, you have taken Madoka on a date to a restaurant that you have never experienced before.

THE ANGEL - It’s okay, Homura-chan! I don’t mind if you haven’t eaten here before. Remember what real me said, Sayaka thinks this place is good! And even if it’s not perfect, that’s okay, just spending time with you makes me happy.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Sayaka has raised her blade against Madoka 16 times before. You should leave this restaurant and kill her. It would only take-

FALLING SAND [Trivial: Success] - 1528 seconds on average.

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - It can be cut down to 1243 seconds with an expenditure of 2.7% of total magic pool.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Exactly. Do it in front of her family and make it bloody. Kyoko would likely try and stop you, but even she isn’t immune to bullets. And if Mami comes for revenge, well, you know the exact words you could say that would destroy her, don’t you?

THE ANGEL - A-Ah, I think that’s a bit of an extreme reaction, Homura-chan!

HUMAN SHELL - Your heart rate is increasing. Stop that. You have absolute control over your flesh. Act like it.

MOE INSTINCT - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ARE WE GOING TO ORDER MADOKA IS GOING TO LAUGH AT US

WITCH’S NIGHT - Is… is this a trap? Walpurgis may be defeated, but you know that the stage witch never truly ceases its show. Perhaps this restaurant is a part of the stage?

MADOKA - “Um, are you okay, Homura-chan?”

MOE INSTINCT - OH GOD SHE HATES US

“I’m going to kill myself.”

“I’m so sorry. Would killing myself make you feel more comfortable?”

Isn’t there anything else you can say?

YOU - Isn’t there anything else you can say?

THE DEVIL - Come on, Homura. It’s high time you do it. Really, this is just another in the long, long chain of failures that make up your life. The only way to fix it is to kill yourself.

CLOCKWORK PRECISION - Target: Located on right ring finger. Target is not moving. Chance to hit: High. Plan: Retrieve pistol. Aim pistol at ring. Pull trigger.

THE ANGEL - Oh my god, please do not do that!

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

There. There has to be better options than this.

YOU - There. There has to be better options than this.

MOE INSTINCT - I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE. THE ONLY RECOURSE IS IMMEDIATE SUICIDE. THAT’S THE ONLY WAY MADOKA WILL LOVE YOU AGAIN.

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

YOU - “I’m going to kill myself.”

MADOKA - Madoka’s face twists, her eyebrows raising slightly in shock. Whatever response she was expecting, it was clearly not this.

GRIEF SYNDROME [Challenging: Success] - IF MADOKA WAS A MAGICAL GIRL, HER SOUL GEM WOULD FILL BY A QUARTER HEARING YOU SPEAK THOSE WORDS. THAT WAS CRUEL, HOMURA.

MOE INSTINCT - WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?

MADOKA - “I’m so sorry, Homura-chan. Please don’t do that. I… I really care about you and so does everyone else.” Madoka’s eyes fill with tears as she speaks. She hugs you.

DAMAGED MORALE -4

CALL AND RESPONSE [Trivial: Success] - Quick, tell her you were making an edgy joke that didn’t land. You’ve gotten away with that before, you’re pretty sure.

SPACE-TIME MASSACRE - Twelve quarter shifts left and two up from your current space-time position, and there’s a Japan that it’s actually illegal to not commit suicide in.

FALLING SAND - You’ve been seated for 5 minutes and 32.5 seconds already and still have not ordered. Mami has requested your presence at her apartment in 3.4 hours from now.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN - She wants to help you find a hobby. She’s really worried about you, you know.

STRINGS OF FATE - You can feel Madoka’s heart beat in sync with yours as she holds you. Everything will be alright, as long as you follow the beat.

THE ANGEL - Yeah! It’s okay Homura-chan. Just explain what’s been going on and Madoka will understand. And then order something, it’s important to eat a full meal!

YOU - “Ah, sorry Madoka. I was… overwhelmed with choice, and my… brain spit out the first thing it thought. I am not planning on killing myself.”

MADOKA - “Um, I think we should probably talk about this more, Homura-chan….”

CALL AND RESPONSE - Ask her a question to change the topic. It’s worked in three different loops, it should work here.

RATIONALITY COMPLEX [Trival: Success] - Ask her if she wants to try anything else and then order that for yourself. This will accomplish your goal of deciding on what to order, as well as showing Madoka that her desires are important to you.

YOU - “Is there anything else you’d like to try, Madoka? We can share our dishes.”

MADOKA - “Uh, okay Homura-chan. Maybe get some tempura?”

Order 10000 yen worth of tempura

Order 1000 yen worth of tempura

Order 100 yen worth of tempura

YOU - “Excuse me waiter, give me 10000 yen worth of tempura.”

HUMAN SHELL - Calories and magic are just two different types of fuel. Feed me and control me.

THE ANGEL - T-that’s probably too much, Homura-chan. Maybe you can sneak some into your cool shield, though!

MADOKA - Madoka doesn’t say anything, but her eyes do bulge out slightly. She gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder and smiles at you.

HEALED MORALE +1

RATIONALITY COMPLEX - Displays of wealth like this can broadcast value to potential mates. This will increase your value in Madoka’s eyes, furthering along one of your goals.

THE ANGEL - I think you should just focus on enjoying the food, Homura-chan. Take a break, everything is okay.

Thank you.

Why don’t you hate me?

YOU - Why don’t you hate me?

THE ANGEL - Because I care about you, Homura-chan! And besides, you hate yourself far too much already.

Thank you.

THE ANGEL - You’re welcome! Now, please, enjoy your meal with real Madoka. She loves you a lot too, you know.

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

There’s a nonchalance that carries around your man, one that comes from years of training of gaslighting the twins and making them turn against each other, or the scoldings from Kita-San that could’ve got so intense with his disappointment Rintaro could cry.

He’s gotten good at keeping a stoic emotion and making you act out. He loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

“It’s because he doesn’t,” Atsumu assures, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes, “trust me, he cares. You just don’t see it.”

“And I never will. Because it doesn’t happen.”

You raise your brows in challenge, and he matches your brow raising. “Wanna bet on it?”

“Wager?”

“If I can prove to you Rintaro actually is a dork for my attention, I want a signed Kiyoomi jersey.”

He scoffs, “can’t you just ask Kiyoomi for one?”

“Komori tells me not to bother him after games.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “okay. And when he doesn’t show he’s a loser, I want all you can eat at Onigiri Miya and you pick up the bill.”

“….”

“What?”

“Osamu doesn’t naturally give you all you can eat?”

“No?”

“Oh…”

“Does he GIVE IT TO YOU?!”

You give him a cheesy smile and quickly move to grab your keys, his jaw slacked in betrayal, only for him to roll his eyes, “whatever. Either way, we’re going when I win. What’re the keys for?”

“You’ll see.”

You jingle your keys with a small smirk, making sure to do it loud enough for him to hear down the hall. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief, only for his hand to cover his mouth as socked feet quickly become louder as Rintaro barrels down the hall.

A lanky frame fills the doorway, “where you goi-“

Atsumu and you let out a string of cackles, his hand smacking his knee while Rintaro scrubs his face with his free hand, the other one holding a controller for his, hopefully, paused game.

“Dawg I hate you for real,” he sighs, coming into the room to kiss your head. You smile and angle your head to kiss him for real, which he complies with happily and making Atsumu gag. His green eyes dart to glare at Atsumu, “I wish osamu was an only child.”

“Damn, bringing guns to knife fights,” the blonde snorts. “Not my fault you got caught in 4K, dickhead.”

“Not my fault you’re a single loser.” He leans down to kiss your lips, “where’re we going?”

“No where,” you hum happily. “Just wanted to make sure you were still obsessed with me.”

He beams down at you while Atsumu groans in disgust.

“Always.”

RINRINRINRINRIN

[hearts4sturn]

LOVE YOU TOO – CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader synopsis: in which the reader pranks chris by not saying “i love you” back warnings: lowercase intended, no mentions of y/n, fluff!!

chris had a knack for getting under her skin—every other day, without fail. innocently, of course. sometimes it was something simple, like a crumpled paper ball lobbed in her direction when she wasn’t paying attention, or a quick splash of water from his hands after washing them. nothing that would make her seriously mad, but enough to get on her nerves. and every time, she’d swear she’d get him back, that this time, she’d win.

the thing was, chris was unpredictable. he could read her too well. he could tell when she was about to pull something, anticipate her every move. it was like he was always one step ahead, like he had some sort of sixth sense for her plans. every time she tried, he’d stop it before it even started—like catching her in the act but without her even having a chance to act. it frustrated her to no end, the way he always managed to see right through her.

whenever it happened, she’d slump into a pout, a silent surrender to his constant edge. and he'd just look at her, that smirk of his stretching across his face, like he’d already won the game, without needing to say a word. it always made her want to try harder. next time, she promised herself. next time, she’d win.

tonight was different, though. as she lay on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through tiktok, her thoughts wandered. it was one of those nights where nothing could hold her attention, but she kept swiping anyway, letting her thumb flick over the endless stream of ��couple-tok” videos. most of them were the same—couples pulling harmless pranks on each other, calling each other "husband" or "wife" and watching their confused reactions. she chuckled at a few, wondering what chris would do if she tried something like that. would he play along, or would he give her that look—the one that said really?

then, she stumbled on something that made her pause. a couple where the girl didn’t say "i love you" back when her boyfriend said it. his face dropped, and she could practically feel his hurt through the screen. it wasn’t dramatic, just… quiet disappointment. and that’s when it hit her.

if there was one thing she knew for sure about chris, it was that he hated uncertainty. not returning his affection? that would get to him. no question. he wore his feelings openly, and the thought of her not reciprocating them would probably mess with his head for days. she knew she could get under his skin like that.

is it too much? she thought for a moment. but then the little voice in her head reminded her of all the times he’d pulled something on her—catching her off guard, making her pout when she was supposed to win. this is just payback, she reasoned. just a little revenge.

with a self-satisfied smirk, she powered off her phone and got up, walking toward their shared room. there was no turning back now.

“baby?” she heard chris call from inside.

“yeah?” she yelled back, not moving from her spot on the couch.

“can you please, pleaseee get me a pepsi from the fridge?” he asked, his voice exaggerated for effect.

she smiled to herself, already feeling the stir of mischief. she sighed dramatically, got up, and padded toward the kitchen, her feet warm against the cool floor. opening the fridge, she pulled out a cold can of pepsi, feeling the chill bite into her fingers as she held it in her hand.

“here you go,” she said, stepping into the room.

chris was sitting at his desk, black headphones over his ears, eyes locked on his computer screen. without looking up, he took the can from her, cracking it open with that satisfying hiss.

“thanks, baby. i love you,” he muttered, settling back into his chair, already shifting his attention back to his game.

“mhm, of course,” she replied, already turning to leave. her footsteps were light, the door just in reach when she heard him pull off his headphones.

“babe?” he said, his voice suddenly more serious.

she stopped mid-step, glancing back at him, raising an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“i love you,” he said, stretching the words out slowly, like he needed to make sure she heard it.

she couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but she kept her face neutral. “mhm, i’ll be up in a little,” she said, already making her way toward the door again.

but he wasn’t letting it go. his expression shifted, brows furrowing in confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

“babe.”

she bit back a laugh, turning slowly, giving him an innocent look. “yeah?”

“i love you,” he repeated, softer this time, more serious, like the words meant something more than usual.

she held back the grin that was threatening to break through, her eyes softening for just a second. “mhm, i know,” she said, feeling the smirk finally slip through.

chris pouted dramatically, standing up from his chair, crossing his arms. “are you mad at me? did i do something wrong?” he asked, his voice already shifting into that playful whine she knew so well. he walked up to her, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes like she held the answers.

“no, i’m not mad,” she said, trying her best to look unaffected, though she couldn’t stop the slight shrug.

“then why aren’t you saying it back?” he whined, a little more desperate this time, the playful tone still lingering but now mixed with mock frustration. “whatever i did wrong, i’m sorry, okay?”

“chris… are you okay?” she asked, amusement dancing in her voice, though she tried to keep it in check.

“no!” he huffed, still holding her hands, swinging them back and forth like a child. “you won’t say it back!”

she raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with the effort to hold her composure. “say what?” she asked, feigning innocence, though she already knew.

“‘i love you’!” he whined again, voice rising in pitch as he leaned in closer, clearly playing up the drama.

she couldn’t hold it in anymore—she laughed, letting go of his hands to cover her mouth, enjoying the sweet satisfaction of the prank.

“what? what’s so funny?” he asked, genuinely confused, his brows furrowing.

“i got you!” she grinned, her eyes lighting up. “you keep pranking me, so i finally found a way to get you back!”

his face flickered with recognition, the smallest smile trying to break through his mock indignation. “oh.” then, with a stomp of his foot and an exaggerated sigh, he crossed his arms tightly. “now i’m mad at you.”

“oh come on, chris,” she said, trying (and failing) to turn him around by tugging gently on his arm.

“say you love me, and i’ll turn around,” he mumbled, his back still to her, though she could hear the softness creeping into his voice.

she leaned in, whispering near his ear with a teasing grin, “i love youuu!”

he turned around instantly, pulling her into a tight hug, his lips pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “i love you too,” he said, though his voice held that slight warning she knew so well, a playful scolding. “don’t ever pull something like that again.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around him. “okay, okay, i won’t! but i got you good, didn’t i?”

he mumbled under his breath, his faint grin still tugging at his mouth. “yeah, yeah, whatever.”

she pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look. “admit it, you love me more now that you’ve been pranked.”

he rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love me for it,” she said with a wink, her heart light, enjoying the warmth of their little game.

wc: 1.4k

author's note: first fic everyone cheer

dividers: @toastray

© HEARTS4STURN 2025

[mssishipi]

soft love — pjs

— in which you found purpose in jay's control that love was so soft to be touch and tight enough to never let go.

warnings: dark romance, emotional manipulation, psychological control, jay is older than reader, power imbalance, dependency, themes of submission and ownership. explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, implied breeding kink. MDNI

Dating older guys, they said, would be so good.

"They’re more mature," they told you. "Patient. Experienced. They know how to take care of you. They’ll spoil you, treat you like a queen."

Jay was all of those things and more.

He was sweet in that effortless, older-man way, never fumbling or awkward, always knowing the right thing to say, always knowing exactly what you wanted before you even said it. He'd buy you things without you having to ask. Something you liked, something you needed and the next day, it was waiting in your hands like magic. Clothes, jewelry, rides, trips... everything.

He gave you the kind of love that made it easy—too easy—to fall into him. And you did.

He made you feel safe, special. Protected. Like nothing in the world could hurt you as long as you were his. Like you didn’t need to worry about anything anymore.

And little by little, you stopped.

You stopped checking your own schedule because Jay always had plans for both of you. You stopped talking to certain friends—Jay didn’t like them anyway. You stopped doing a lot of little things because he took care of them for you... until you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

He became your whole world. And at first, that was intoxicating.

But it started to shift. You didn’t notice it all at once. The control didn’t come like a storm. It came in whispers.

In little comments, like: "You don’t need to go out tonight, stay with me instead." Or: "Why do you even talk to him? You know I don’t like it." Then one day, it was: "Wear this instead, I don’t want other guys looking at you."

And when you pushed back, even gently—just asking questions, wanting to understand—he’d smile that same sweet smile he always had. But it didn’t feel sweet anymore. It felt like warning.

He was still patient. Still spoiled you. Still called you "baby" with that soft voice that once made your stomach flutter.

But, sometimes, it made your skin crawl.

Because when Jay got angry—really angry—it wasn’t loud. It was cold, still and heavy. He didn’t yell. His silence said enough. His glare made your heart skip beats for all the wrong reasons. You forgot how kind he could be in those moments. You only remembered the way your breath caught when you saw the shift in his eyes.

"Love, my friends are planning to visit Indonesia, can I go with them?" 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You speak without looking up, your fingertips nervously playing with the edge of your sleeve, eyes fixed on Jay as he types away on his laptop across the room. You already know what he's going to say, but you ask anyway—half-hoping for something different this time.

Jay doesn’t stop typing, not at first. The rhythm of the keys continues for a beat too long, the silence between you stretching thin. Then, without looking up, his voice comes out flat. 

"I told you, I’m not comfortable with your friends." Click. Click. "Didn’t one of them have a scandal at some bar? They’re a bad influence."

You flinch, "love, it’s not a scandal," you murmur, careful not to let your tone rise. "She was... she was a victim."

That’s when the keys stop. Just like that, the room feels heavier. His fingers hover above the keyboard.

You dare to glance up and regret it. He’s staring at you now. Not angry. Not yet. But disappointed, which somehow always hurts more. You hate that about yourself, how fast you shrink under his gaze, how quick your heart races when you think you’ve said the wrong thing.

"You always defend them," he says quietly. There’s no yelling, no raised voice, but you feel like you’ve been slapped.

"I’m just saying—" you start, but the words catch. Because what are you saying, really? What are you trying to prove?

He sighs, turns his eyes back to the screen. "I just want what’s best for you. I thought you knew that."

And just like that, the conversation ends. Why did I even ask for permission? That was never your mindset before. You were independent, assertive, unafraid to make your own choices. But somewhere along the way, that changed.

They say it’s normal, even healthy—asking for your partner’s approval. That’s what being in a relationship is, right? Compromise. Communication.

But you feel like you're being held tightly. Not by arms, but by invisible strings that pull every time you try to step too far away. The worst part is you don’t even want to fight it.

You don’t know anymore what’s right, or what’s normal. You just don’t want Jay to look at you like that again. You don’t want to see that shift in his eyes. You don’t want to feel that pit in your stomach, or the shame curling hot in your chest like you’ve done something wrong.

It hurts. Not the kind of hurt that bruises skin but the kind that seeps into your bones, the kind you carry without scars, but never really heal from.

The bed shifts with the familiar creak of weight settling beside you. The mattress dips, and even before he says a word, your body responds on instinct.

You turn toward him immediately, almost reflexively, slipping your arms around his waist and pressing your head against his chest. It’s automatic now, seeking his warmth, his presence. As if holding him tight enough could make everything feel okay again.

Jay’s hand finds your back, slow and soothing, running a few gentle strokes over your spine before settling there. The steady thump of his heart under your ear should feel comforting, but instead it leaves your chest heavy. You breathe in the clean, cool scent of his cologne. Familiar. Inescapable.

“We can go to Indonesia,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just the two of us, hm? What do you think?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead like a peace offering. You nod against him, almost automatically, the motion small and quiet.

It’s not what you wanted. But it’s something. And it’s him. That’s enough. Isn’t it? 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not sure if you’re apologizing for asking, or for pushing, or just for being difficult. You feel him pull you in tighter, his arms wrapping around you.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he says, his voice calm.

Your eyes sting, warmth welling up. You bite your lip, holding the tears back even though you know he can probably feel it—your breathing, just a little uneven now. You blink quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the dampness gathering at the corners of your eyes.

You’re not sure what hurts more, that he does understand, or that he never really had to.

You nestle closer into his chest, burying yourself in him. You feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his hand pressing gently against your back.

This moment is love. You’re lucky, so lucky, to have someone like Jay. That’s what everyone says.

A man who takes care of you, who thinks ahead, who plans things for you because he knows what’s best. A man who holds you at night, whispers apologies even when you feel like you were the one who did something wrong. A man who spoils you without asking, who says “I understand” even when you don’t deserve it.

He always knows how to bring it back to this. Where guilt fades into gratitude. Where you start to believe that maybe you are overreacting, maybe you are too sensitive, too quick to doubt someone who’s only trying to love you the right way.

Jay never yells. Never hits. He doesn't need to. He just speaks softly, slowly. He makes you feel like the bad decisions you make are your own—even when they were never really yours to begin with.

He listens, and then he corrects, but always gently, always with a calmness that makes you feel childish for pushing back. And every time you hesitate, he meets you with patience… and just enough disappointment to make your stomach twist with shame.

He gives you so much, how could you question him?

You remember the way he brought you your favorite drink after you got upset. The time he booked that surprise weekend trip just because you were stressed. The necklace you wear every day—he noticed you admiring it once and had it delivered within a week. He always comes back with something better. Something to make you forget the argument. Something to remind you that he's still the one holding everything together.

So maybe you were wrong about Indonesia. Maybe it’s selfish to want something he doesn't feel good about. Maybe you’re asking for too much.

Jay is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.  

That’s what you remind yourself, even when everything feels complicated. He’s perfect. Handsome in that effortless, masculine way, with a sharp jawline and steady eyes that seem to see right through you. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of body that makes you feel small when he wraps around you. Safe.

He knows exactly how to touch you, how to take you apart and put you back together like you were made for his hands. There’s no awkward fumbling, no hesitations. He takes, and you give—because giving to Jay feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s expected. Like it’s right.

"J-Jay!" you gasp, your voice breaking as his pelvis slams into you from behind, every thrust hitting deep. Your breath catches as his grip tightens around your wrists, pulling your arms behind your back.

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmurs between thrusts, filled with that dangerous softness he always uses when he wants you to feel safe while giving in. “Only mine. Say it.”

“I—I’m yours,” you cry out, the words tumbling past your lips before you even think. Your hips instinctively roll back into him, body desperate to meet every stroke. Your own moans betray you, building with the wet slap of skin and the sound of his breath unraveling behind you.

“Wanna keep you to myself—fuck,” Jay growls, his grip flexing around your wrists as your walls tighten around him. “You’re too beautiful. Everybody wants my girl.”

You feel him shudder, throwing his head back, a moan tearing from his throat as he sinks deeper, harder, the pace growing erratic. His words come broken now, laced with raw possession.

“You’re mine… mine… mine… fuck—mine.”

Your whines rise with him, high and trembling, legs shaking beneath the weight of his rhythm. He’s hitting every spot  like he owns them—because in his mind, he does.

Jay always knows what you need before you do. He knows when to be soft, when to be rough. When to pull you close, and when to make you beg. 

He releases one of your wrists, only to slide his hand down your front, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your legs nearly give out the moment he touches you. His fingers circle it with cruel expertise, pulling out helpless gasps as your body responds.

“See how good I treat you?” he breathes against your neck, lips brushing just beneath your ear. “No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets to.”

You moan in response, pushing your hips back to meet the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. Your ass collides with him, each impact echoing in the room. He growls low in his chest, gripping your hips, dragging you back onto him with a force that leaves you breathless.

“I’m gonna fill you with my cum,” Jay hisses. “Gonna make you pregnant, baby. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

Your moans break into sharp cries as the pleasure burns through your veins, white-hot and endless. Every stroke of his cock drives deeper, rougher, shaking what little strength you have left. Your body can't hold itself up anymore—your arms collapse beneath you, face pressed into the sheets as he continues his assault from behind.

“I love you,” Jay groans, his voice fraying into a broken moan. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you—”

Something inside you snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave breaking loose after too long held back. It’s overwhelming, violent in its depth, unstoppable in its force. Your body tightens around him as pleasure detonates from your core, spreading outward in pulsing waves that steal your breath and leave you crying out his name.

Your hands claw at the sheets beneath you, your back arching as every nerve lights up, every muscle trembling beneath the pressure of his thrusts. It’s like falling and flying at the same time, the intensity of it burning behind your eyes, blinding everything else.

All you can hear is his voice—those words repeating, claiming you. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.

You’re still trembling as he keeps going, chasing his own end, using your limp, pleasure-drunk body. “Yours,” you whisper, the word broken and breathless into the sheets. “I’m yours, Jay…”

He lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, thrusting harder, deeper, messier now. And you can feel it coming—his climax, the one he’s been holding off for you, the one he’s about to give with everything he has.

Even with your limbs trembling, your body still oversensitized and wrecked from your own release, you shift your hips to meet him, chasing his rhythm. Moaning, shakily, as the pleasure blooms again when you feel him release inside you.

A broken curse falls from his lips, and then he’s spilling into you, his entire body seizing with it.

Every pulse inside you is another claim, another mark, another reminder that you belong to him.

“I love you,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your skin, each word punctuated with a kiss pressed to the curve of your neck.

He stays inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back, skin slick with sweat and warmth. You feel the full weight of him, one of his hands slides up, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to press a kiss to your nape. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

And when he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a ghost of a touch. A silent apology.

He whisper, again, I love you, buried in your hair now. Oh, how it feels so good.

To be wanted like this. To be needed this much. To be held so tightly that you forget what it was like to ever stand on your own.

Because in Jay’s arms, even when everything else fades, even when you’re lost in the dark—It always feels like home.

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[neverendingford]

.

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[chleem]

Casual /extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Warning: explicit language + scenes (read at own caution)

⋆.˚ official one shot | more

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

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

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

elevator | other | more of casual!drew

[c4tluver02]

first sleepover!

warnings: none! just Steve being whipped.

wc: 2.3k

summary: You invited Steve to spend the night at your place for the first time! And even though it's face masks and nails he's having a great time.

Tonight Steve was coming over to have a sleepover. This will be the first time he's ever spent the night and you are quite ecstatic to say the least. Steve was also excited. To experience your night time routine and what you look like when you first open your eyes in the morning are all sights that Steve wants to see. He packs his overnight bag and heads over to your place. He has a few movies in case you two get bored but he doubts that will happen. You somehow always keep Steve in a constant flow of comfort. It’s never awkward or weird, even when you guys are sitting in silence. 

Once Steve gets to your house he knocks on your door. He's about 5 minutes early and he hopes you don't mind. “Steve!” You say as you take his hand to bring him inside. 

“Hi angel.” Steve hums, you are beaming with happiness and it's spreading to Steve. 

“I set up some snacks for us but if you want anything else obviously we can get that instead.” You say still holding onto his hand. 

“Whatever you have is good with me” Steve says flashing his amazing smile. His bag is starting to hurt his hand but he doesn't really know where to drop it and he doesn't want to go to your room unless you are comfortable with it.  

“So what did you bring? I have a few things we can do if you don't have anything.” You walk yourself over to the couch.

Steve opens his bag sitting next to you “I brought some movies from work and then UNO. I don't really have anything that exciting.” He responds in a quiet tone. He was starting to feel a little embarrassed that this is all he has to offer you for a fun night. 

“Ooh show the movies?” You say with a soft smile on your face. If you're disappointed in his options you're doing great at hiding it. 

He shows you four different movies, two of them you guys have seen before together. The other two you haven't seen before. “Hmm have you seen these two at all?” You decide to ask.

“Nope, I thought I'd bring some old and some new.” Steve has them all laid out in his lap as you pick them up and look at the description on the back. 

“Would you want to watch a movie we haven't seen and you can paint my nails?” You ask.

“Oh, I uh, I don't know if i'll be good at that.” Steve is starting to hate himself. Has he never been near a girl because he's starting to act like it. 

“C’mon Stevie it's super simple, plus you love picking out the color. I thought it would be fun?” You look at him with big eyes. The question is innocent and simple. Nothing about you is trying to embarrass him. Just looking for something fun to do together. 

“Okay sweet girl, let's do it.” Steve says back. You smile big at his response.

“Do you wanna come and pick out a color with me?” You stand up and ask before you walk away. 

“Sure, yeah.” Steve stands up.

“Oh and you can bring your bag and put it in my room.” You say not to forget it this time. 

Steve has been in your room before, although now he's sleeping over and suddenly he didn't realize that there are little parts of you he somehow missed on your hallway wall. Pictures of you as a child and as a baby. All littered across the wall. Normally he is dragged into your room to surpass your parents. Or if he really didn't want to be seen he'd go through your window. He hasn't had time to truly look deep at his surroundings. But your parents aren't here and that's why he's sleeping over. Steve puts his bag down by your bed as you pull a basket of nail polish out. 

“Okay Stevie, pick a color, any color!” You say as you sit on the ground, your legs under you. 

The simple look of you sitting on the ground like that, head perched up at him made Steve's heart pound in his chest. He wasn’t gonna mess this up so no funny business tonight but man, you just sit there and look at him and suddenly Steve can't think straight. 

“Oh um, let's do one of the light pinks?” Steve says exiting his tranced state. His leg is right by you and as you look at all the pinks you have you lean your head against his thigh. His hand comes to graze the side of your face that's exposed. Slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth on your cheek as you look at the multiple light pinks you have. 

“What about this one?” You ask, slightly moving your head to look up at him. 

Steve moves his hand further down to your jaw. He cups your chin and bends down. 

“That's perfect angel.” He whispers now being face to face with you. The moment has extreme tension to it. He leans in to give you a kiss. It's long and slow but not extending to anything else. 

“Okay come on let's go back down, we have a movie waiting for us y’know.” You say getting back up grabbing Steve's hand as you make your way back downstairs. 

You both get settled onto the couch and you shake the nail polish bottle before giving it to Steve. He's putting a large blanket over both of your laps. You're not sure if he's gonna get this all over the place but you have enough faith that you don't get a towel or anything to catch any of the mess. 

Steve opens the nail polish as you put your hands on your knees, giving him a stable spot. He begins to paint your thumb. The movie is playing in the background and this moment feels incredibly peaceful. His tongue is sticking out in the side and his brows are furrowed. You can tell he's focusing really hard on not messing up. 

Steve finishes one hand and he did surprisingly well. There's a little bit on the cuticle where he put too much polish and it flooded. But that will wash away in the shower. 

“Wow you did great, baby.” You say holding the hand that's done up. 

“Thank you. That'll be one kiss please!” 

You look at him and hum, as if you were thinking about if you were going to do it. You're really happy he's here and even though half of the sleepover you will just be asleep, you are happy to be asleep with him. 

“I think I can do that.” You say giving him a quick kiss. If Steve could kiss you all day everyday he would. 

“Okay next hand.” He says patting your knee to put your hand on it. He is definitely more into this than he thought he would be. 

You giggle at his seriousness and do as he says. This next hand is done quicker than the other hand was and your payment was another kiss. 

Once he finishes you both sit and watch the rest of the movie, or try at least but Steve is just so funny and you can't stop looking at how pretty he is. Your nails are drying and he's talking about Dustin's new friend Eddie. The jealousy is thick on Steve but you don't mention it. You just try to remind him how much Dustin looks up to Steve, trying to follow his every step. 

Somehow hours have passed since he came over and now you are both getting sleepy. You could fall asleep on Steve on the couch but you decide a big bed would be better. You end up turning the movie off and turning off all the lights downstairs. 

You grab onto Steve's hand, bringing him with you to turn off every light. He could have stayed in the living room but he hasn't complained about it. Once you are done you run upstairs. For some reason the idea of the whole house bringing pitch black scares you. Steve is quick to laugh at your sudden speed. 

You both make it up to your room safe and sound! You dig around in your drawer to get a t-shirt to sleep in, they are practically all Steves. 

You both change at the same time and it's comfortable. Almost as if you do this every night together. The fact that this night has been so natural makes your heart flutter. As Steve gets in bed he sees you wash your face in the bathroom. 

“Do you wanna do a face mask?” You ask him. When you look over at him you can see that he's been looking at you this whole time. 

“Okay, what type do you have?” He asks.

“How do you know there's different types?” You ask in curiosity. The question comes out with a little hint of jealousy. Who has he been doing face masks with to know this? 

“Robin and I do them when we have sleepovers.” He responds looking at the different types you have. He's leaning toward the one that moisturizes. 

“Aw, you and Robin have sleepovers?” You ask, forgetting all about your question, only thinking about how cute your boyfriend is. 

“Yeah, she's been having a tough time recently so I have slept over a time or two to make her feel better.” Steve says as he opens the paper face mask. 

You opt for one that brightens your skin. You aren't quite sure how well these work but you just wanted to see Steve in it.  “You truly are the kindest person I know Steve.” You say as you put your own face mask on. 

Despite this being any other sentence for you Steve himself stops what he's doing. He has done some really mean things in his King Steve era. He always thinks of the things he did and how they will be a part of him no matter what. But here you are, reminding him that it's all in the past. This new version of him is caring and kind and deserves to be loved and cared for. 

When you are done fixing your face mask you look at him and smile. He smiles back but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

“You are kind Steve.” You repeat. It doesn't seem like it's getting in his head.  You put your hands around his neck. “You do so much for the people around you, you put others' needs before your own. People who are mean don't do that.” You know Steve has some guilt about his past, but that's what it is. The past. It’s your job to help him move on. 

He grabs onto your wrists. This can look like a silly situation, you're both in face masks and nail polish is somehow on both yours and his nails and yet this is such a heartfelt moment. 

“Thank you.” Steve says kissing the inside of your wrist. 

You lean to give him a kiss but your face masks get in the way. Suddenly the sleepiness hits you both and a fit of giggles erupts between the two of you. 

“Okay I think we can take them off.” You say pulling it off before turning back to him. “Do I look brighter?” You know you don’t look any different but still Steve indulges you.

“The brightest. Do I look moisturized?” He follows on.

“Wow you look like a whole new person!” You say back.

“Okay sleepy head let's go to bed.” Steve says as he turns off the bathroom light and walks you back to your room. 

Once you get in bed you gasp as you look around you. Steve notices and looks at you with wide eyes.

“What? What's wrong?” He asks, the question comes out quickly.

Suddenly your face turns into puppy dog eyes and Steve is immediately confused. “Stevie?” You ask crawling towards him. 

“Yeah?” He replies now only thinking about how pretty you look crawling towards him. Men can be so simple. 

“Do you think you could go downstairs and get my water bottle and fill it up?” Your big eyes and pout are now on full display. 

Steve smiles as a sigh comes out. Of course how could he not when you look at him like that? He’s starting to realize how wrapped around your finger he really is. 

“Yeah I can get it for you.” He says giving your pout a quick kiss. 

“Okay thank you.” you say simply going back under the covers as you wait for him. 

When he comes back you already have the tv on and you're braiding your hair. 

“Here baby.” Steve says give you the bottle. It's ice cold and you can hear the ice cubes in it. He truly is the kindest soul on the planet. 

“You're the best ever.” You immediately take a sip and let out a content sigh. 

Steve finally gets in bed with you and for some reason it feels like he hasn't touched you in hours. His body is right next to yours, he probably couldn't get any closer if he tried. 

You snuggle up to him and lay your head on his shoulder. The only source of light is the tv and the warmth of Steve sends you in a sleepy state. 

“I'm glad you're spending the night.” You say, it comes out mumbled as your face is squished against him but Steve understands you anyways. 

“I'm glad I am too. I wish we could do this every night.” Steve in his tired state was saying anything he was thinking. Steve an hour or two ago would probably have kept that to himself in fear of it being too forward. Lucky for Steve you agree.

“I know, I do too.” You look up at him and give his jaw a kiss.

“G’night baby.” Steve says with his eyes closed.

“Good night Stevie.” Your voice is quiet and within minutes your breath is slow. Sleep taking over the both of you. And in the morning Steve tells you he's never slept so well.

[baepsays]

Hi there!!! I absolutely love your Cat-Satoru series (and literally all of your other works too) and I was wondering if we could get a oneshot where Suguru and reader get into a fight so reader doesn’t come around for a while and cat Satoru gets really sad and misses them until they make up?

hi bb thank you sm <3 oh I am loving writing silly stuff about them hehehe I'll try to reflect your vision through my words best to my abilities ^^

Suguru hates fighting with you. Because he knows how petty you are, and how much pettier you can get. Unfortunately for the both of you, he is no less petty.

He holds grudges like he holds a mean grip on your waist in crowded places. So what happens is that poor Satoru gets caught in the crossfire. And the poor thing never understands, despite amazing comprehension of human language, why are you two even fighting in the first place?

If you asked Satoru whether fighting over bedsheets was a valid reason or not, he'd say a big—"MEOW!"

‘NO WAY!’

I mean that day when he woke up under his favourite coffee table, after an amazing nap, to you and Suguru shouting at each other, he just sat between you two with his head tilted and nose twitching.

"YOU CANNOT JUST KEEP USING THESE BLACK SHEETS! I WANT SOME COLOR! AND SILK IN SUMMER IS THE WORST!" You pointed at the bunched up black and shiny sheets on the bed.

"YOU CANNOT JUST CHANGE THEM WITHOUT ASKING ME?" There was a pile of pink cotton sheets right beside the black silken ones.

"Oh. So now I have to ask you before doing you a favour and changing your sheets to better ones?" Sure your voice lowered, but that did not mean you were feeling any more clam than before.

"This is my bed. So yes. You should've asked." Suguru stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. Alright then, sleep well on your sheets all by yourself." And that was all you said before you headed towards the door with your bag in your hands, with no intention of coming back for at least a few weeks.

What pissed you off more and made that week turn into two weeks, was when Suguru yelled from behind you, "YES I WILL!"

And all that was left in Suguru's apartment was his black silk sheets, your scattered belongings, the beeping noise of the rice cooker, and a very disappointed Satoru who could not run fast enough behind you.

The first few days, Satoru was hopeful you'll drop by at least to see him, but he spent three days by the large windows in the living room, and the bedroom balcony, to realize you're not dropping by anytime soon. And like that almost two weeks were about to pass.

And rolling around in your clothes, or pillows was not working for neither Satoru nor Suguru.

"Meowwwww." Satoru butted his head to Suguru's, who spent his weekend lying on the couch, eating barely anything, and smoking more than what he usually does. Work on Monday was equally shitty, teaching kids suddenly became headache inducing.

"What do you want, Satoru?" Suguru grumbled and changed the show playing on his tv.

"Meowwwww meowmeow." If someone looked close enough, it almost looked like this white fluffy ball of meows was pouting.

Suguru sighed in response, as he has been for the past week, to Satoru's howling meows, and tantrums. "She won't just show up if you meow enough to make my ears bleed."

"MEOW! Meow meowmeow!" Satoru was truly a cat of many abilities, because why is giving relationship advice to his hopeless owner? 'CALL HER! Just call you dumbass!'

"Yeah well she is not responding to me." Suguru changed to another show.

"MEOW! Meow, meow meowmeow." Which translated to something like, 'YEAH DUH! Go over to where she is hiding.'

"Please Satoru. Just go to bed to wait by the window like you always do or something, I'm on the verge of losing it." He just turned the tv off, and laid flat on his stomach, face smooshed in the couch cushions, and ignored Satoru.

"Meow." Satoru jumped off the couch and walked away from Suguru's pity party. 'Hopeless.'

He walked with intention, to find Suguru's phone. Which was charging on his nightstand. Satoru maneuvered carefully from the floor to bed, then bed to the nightstand, tapping his paw all over the phone.

He had no clue what he was doing, all he knew was that sometimes when you were away for work or anything, Suguru would hold the strange box near Satoru and you'd talk through it. And he desperately needed to hear your voice right now, and also convince you to come back.

Somehow Satoru managed to call Suguru's emergency contact, which fortunately happened to be you.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-

"Hello?" Your voice sounded groggy from the other side, Satoru was not sure whether it was because you cried like you do while watching sad movies, or like when you played the strays with him and then cried while hugging him. Or that you were just sleepy.

"MEOW!"

"Satoru?"

"MEOW! MEOWMEOWMWOW MEOW!"

"Is everything alright? Where is Suguru? Did you call me by yourself?" You were starting to feel worry creeping into your chest.

"MEOWWWW MEOW." Satoru at this point, what sounded like, was basically crying.

"Are you two ok?" You immediately got off your bed, and reached for your pants and jacket.

"MEOWWWWW! MEOWWWW." Satoru did not mean to worry you, but if his meows were about to get you back here, then sure.

"I'LL BE THERE IN 15 MINS!" And with that you hung up the phone, to grab your keys, then drove down to Satoru and Suguru's place.

When you haphazardly got to Suguru's door, to open it with the key he gave to you—Satoru was sitting there, in front of the door, waiting patiently for you to arrive. As if he understood your panicky scramble, when you told him you'd be there in 15 mins. 

“Meow! Meow!” He quickly tangled himself in your legs, as you stepped out of your shoes. 

“Hi Toru, how have you been?” You crouched down to pick up the cat in your arms, which he gladly obliged. No place better than your arms. 

He felt just a bit more thinner, his fur felt rougher than usual, and the way he was nuzzling and purring in the crook of your neck, it was clear how much your presence was missed. You did not mean to ignore Satoru in the midst of your fight with Suguru, but your pride held you back from opening the front door with the key you were given. Even when you made it that far, you just could not step in. 

Upon walking into the living room, you saw Suguru lying on the couch. His clothes, and hair looked disheveled. There were visible bags under his eyes. And now you could match the pleading tone in his texts, that he's been sending for the last few days, ro his pitiful state.

You cleaned up the living room, turned the tv off, gave Satoru somlove and treats. And went to the bedroom to grab a blanket for Suguru, where you found his bed which was not made, and was decorated with the cotton sheets that started this entire thing. 

So you cleaned up the bed, grabbed a blanket for yourself and Suguru, and fluffy enough for Satoru to sleep on as well—and headed to the couch.

In the morning when Suguru woke up, to Satoru’s butt and tail in his face, he was ready to kick the poor kitty out of his house, when he felt arms tightening around him. He found your face shoved into his chest, holding him tightly, legs tangled up with his, and Satoru’s head resting on yours. 

“You're gonna keep staring?” Your voice rumbled through his chest, as you asked him the question without looking at him. It took him some time to gather the courage to speak to you.

“I am so sorry baby.” His arms tightened around you, and he rolled over to have you lie on top of him, as he nuzzled his face in the crown of your head.

“I know. I am sorry too.” 

“You don't need to be. I was way out of line.” You just needed to understand where he was coming from, Geto Suguru does not function as a unit, but he is learning. He learned how to have Satoru in his life, and he's now learning how to have you in his life. 

“Meowwww.” The moment was broken by a hungry cat’s whining, who required food and your attention. So Suguru once again faced Satoru’s fluffy butt, and tail that made his nose itchy.

“SATORU, I AM SO CLOSE TO LOCKING YOU OUT IN THE BALCONY!” Suguru screamed at him, and went to grab him. But alas, couldn't match Satoru's agile, feline movements.

“Meowmeow meowwww.” And it made you realize just how much more you kissed these two than what you thought. As you sat on the couch, watching Suguru run after Satoru.

‘Catch me if you can, loser.’

ADVENTURES OF CATORU & SUGURU.

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a. not proof read.

[eevees-hobbies]

Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself. 

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be. 

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand. 

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it. 

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date. 

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date. 

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out. 

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place. 

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut—-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley. 

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men. 

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them. 

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always. 

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice? 

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties. 

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes. 

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei 

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front. 

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells. 

Are you ok? 

Who did this to you?  

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops. 

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth. 

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth. 

Hayato Suo 

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on. 

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to. 

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist. 

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious! 

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous. 

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.” 

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.” 

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame 

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick. 

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you. 

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea. 

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds. 

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat. 

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.

[yeollie-plz]

Fill

Miguel O’Hara x F! Reader

Synopsis: You babysit Mayday, it puts thoughts into Miguel’s head.

Genre: smut!

Warnings: smut, 18+, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, p in v sex, kissing, biting, fingering, choking, spanking, daddy kink slipped in there at the end

Gif credits to owners!

Miguel was expecting to come home to his beautiful wife, eat some food, maybe make love to her, and bask in each other’s warmth until they fell asleep. What he sure didn’t expect was to come home to said wife babysitting Mayday for Peter. You might have forgotten to mention to Miguel that you were babysitting tonight.

Honestly, you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want him to say no and Peter and MJ really needed the night out. No baby. So now you and your husband were going to have a night in. With a baby.

To say Miguel wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement. He was borderline angry with you at the “slip” of your mind. It’s not like Miguel hated Mayday in any aspect but the thought of you holding a baby brought up strange feelings inside of him.

He had tried for the year that Mayday has been around to try and push those feelings down. But every time he saw you even glance at the baby had him all in a fit. Miguel didn’t think he’d ever be ready for a child again, but seeing you so motherly was changing his mind.

I mean, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married again and there you were changing his plans.

You two have had the baby talk before, as well. You were always so understanding of his past and never pushed him too far. But he did notice the disappointment on your face when he had said he never wanted kids.

Never? Why had he said never? It was such a harsh conclusion and in recent months, it was one he was regretting making.

He could imagine you now, belly full of his seed, a prominent bump showing what the two of you had made.

Shit. He needed to get those images out of his or he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Shaking his head Miguel retreated to the kitchen, leaving you to continue to play with the baby uninterrupted. Busying himself with looking through the cabinets, like he wanted to cook something.

“Miggy?” You questioned as you entered the kitchen, Mayday perched on your hip. He turned and took in the sight, imagining what a mini you would look like. He sighed.

“Did you want me to make you something to eat?” You were trying to read the look on his face.

“No.” He grumbled and pushed pass you and into the living room.

“Miguel, I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you. But it was an honest mistake. Plus, you know I love Mayday and since we-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Your mouth snapped closed at what you were about to say. Before you could apologize Miguel made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. You blinked in shock, you didn’t want to start a fight in front of poor little Mayday. This would have to be brought up later.

It was nearing the time that Peter was supposed to arrive to pickup Mayday. You were a bit sad to say goodbye to her but you were also exhausted. Suddenly, you understood why Peter didn’t even change out of his pajamas most days. Especially with a spider baby!

She stuck to everything! And being someone without powers, your knowledge on the matter wasn’t very strong. Sure, you knew a lot about Miguel’s powers but he was what…Spider-Man number 30 out of 1 million? You wished you could ask Miguel for some help.

Eventually you figured out the best way to unstick Mayday was to distract her. Show her a toy, play peekaboo, maybe give her snack. Anything to keep her hands busy and off your ceiling. You hadn’t heard Miguel much through the night. You figured he had gone to sleep or was silently doing some work.

When you agreed to watch Mayday, you hoped the two of you would be able to do this as a team. But obviously, that thought was all wrong.

Peter came about 30 minutes later, knocking on your door. Miguel heard the door open, a few words being exchanged, and a rush of thank yous as the door shut once again. In a few quick steps you were moving across the house and throwing open the bedroom door. Miguel’s wife was not happy.

“Really Miggy? Slamming my doors now?” Usually the tone of her voice would make Miguel instantly apologize but he was too wound up to care.

“Yes I’m slamming our doors!” His voice was slightly raised as he gave a lackluster response, cringing at himself.

“All this and because I decided to help Peter out! You know they never get to go out. We are their friends Miguel, we should be helping them out!”

“I don’t mind helping out our friends, but this favor…I just.” He groans, running his face across his face and through his hair. His usually tight posture, slumping in exasperation.

“What Miggy? What is so aggravating about that little baby?” Your hands were on your hips, face turning red with your increasing anger. He was not going to get away with throwing this tantrum.

“It’s not the baby that is aggravating! It’s me seeing you with the baby!” His eyes soften as he admits the truth.

You were shocked, not understanding the meaning behind his words, “I’m the aggravating one?”

“No! Mi amor, it’s how I can’t get the thought of you round and pregnant out of my mind. The image of you running around chasing a child that we created. I thought after everything that I would never want that again but…”

It finally clicks, “You’re mad we don’t have a baby!”

“I’m mad I’m not inside you right now putting a baby in you” His eyes darken and rake across your form.

He crosses the room in three long strides, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips ghost along your neck, his hot breath creating goosebumps on your skin.

His mouth reaching your ear, whispering, “Do you want that? Want me to get you pregnant, baby?”

You can only whimper in response, which eggs Miguel on further, finally connecting his lips to yours. Desperation coats the kiss as he basically devours you.

He nips at your lower lip, pulling away. Looking down at you he takes a step back, your body reacts instinctively and tries to close the distance again. He stops you by cupping your clothed core. A strangled noise passes your lips as he uses his other hand to pull your dress over your head.

“Mmm, wore this like you knew I’d want easy access. Always so eager for this cock, hm?” His deep voice and words cause you to get even wetter.

The hand on your core moves a bit to tease you. He feels your wetness, moaning in satisfaction.

“I might not even need to prep you, baby. Wanna breed you like you weren’t meant to be bred.”

His hand grips your neck leading you towards the bed. The hand now makes it way behind your neck and brings your lips to his once again. The force causes you to moan.

“Why don’t you get on all fours for me?” He says it like a question, but you know it’s a command.

You do as you were told and get onto the bed on your hands and knees. You let your knees naturally rest a bit apart, knowing that he will just adjust you if he needs it. A hand runs down your spine, sending a shiver down with it. It reaches your ass and gives a squeeze before landing a firm smack there. Suddenly you hear a rip and feel your wet core exposed to the cool air. You glance down realizing that he had torn off your underwear.

You gasp, “Miggy!” Usually you would’ve found this extremely hot, if those weren’t your favorite panties!

“I’ll buy you new ones. Besides until you’re pregnant you’re not leaving this bed. You won’t be needing panties for a while.” Okay, now it’s hot again.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and inserts a finger inside of you. He pumps the finger in and out quickly, testing how wet you are.

“Already all wet and ready for me. Just how I like you.”

Quickly, he pulls the finger out and before you can even protest at the loss he pushes his dick fully inside of you to the hilt. Another gasp passes your lips at the intrusion. He gives you no time to adjust before setting a pace, ravaging your body with his thick cock.

He continues his assault, pushing deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely and repeating the action. The force of his thrusts are making it hard for you to think, let alone hold yourself up. But when you start to fall to your elbows, his hand is quickly wrapped around your throat holding you up.

“Have you at the perfect angle, can feel all of you.” Is all he says as his fingers tighten on your throat. Your vision goes black from the intense pleasure.

He fucks into you harder as the pressure of his fingers releases slowly, letting some air back into your lungs. When you have enough air, you are moaning out as a particular thrust hits the perfect spot.

“Miggy please, need you to make me cum. Need your cum in me.”

His large body incapsulates yours at your confession. The hand that was on your throat makes it way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. His teeth bite down into your shoulder, sending a shock of pleasure through you as you cum hard onto his cock.

The clenching of your orgasm causes him to groan and falter a bit, before he regains his head and pace.

“Mmm, gonna cum in you baby. Gonna make you a mommy.” He says as he shoots his seed into your awaiting womb. His orgasm seems longer and stronger than usual as he bites your shoulder once again.

After he recovers, he releases your throat, letting you fall into the plush sheets. Miguel slides out of you and pulls your body into his. He rubs your back in slow circles, calming you both down.

Eventually you speak up, “So what do you think? Think it worked, daddy?” Lust drips from your voice at the name.

“Fuck, maybe, and even if it didn’t I’m ready to go again. Just want you so full of my cum that you can feel it with every breath.”

And fill you he did.