hi babes, my name’s tess and i’m glad to be finally formally introduced to all of you. i’ve written every now and then for what seems like a long while (considering my path since you belong with me), and i’m so happy to be able to tell you i’m putting all of my work together on one single masterlist.
about my blog
this is a multifandom blog, so i write prettymuch about the fandoms and characters i love.
i base most of my work around taylor swift’s songs, so this blog is full of songfics about her, with a few exceptions ofc
masterlist
plz be kind in here!! i will not tolerate any type of rudeness in here.
do not copy or repost my work!! i won’t tolerate plagiarism.
just to be clear, english isn’t my first language! so i can make mistakes! sorry if i do!!
requests
i’m happy to do requests, so plz don’t be shy about it :)
the only rule is to ask them in a friendly way, and to take into account that i do every single one of my requests from reader’s perspective (y/n), thank u very much.
Imagining older boyfriend Bruce Wayne who adores his younger girlfriend.
Bruce Wayne: Who spotted you at a charity auction, as the date of some young pompous politician's son who clearly stood no chance with you.
Bruce Wayne: Who hung on your every word all night when your date left you for some heiress who may be rich but was no where near as interesting, intelligent, or gorgeous.
Bruce Wayne: Who talked himself out of asking you on a date because you were in your mid-twenties and he was in his forties, and he was convinced you'd want nothing to do with him.
Bruce Wayne: Who accidentally ran into you again and again not realizing you were a journalist and upon discovering it immediately read everything you've ever written, even the stuff from your college thesis.
Bruce Wayne: Who finally caved and asked you to dinner, not expecting it to go anywhere since you were so different, but ended up having one of the best dates of his life.
Bruce Wayne: Who took you to four events in three weeks, which he'd normally decline out of disinterest but kept attending because it meant he got to see you.
Bruce Wayne: Who took you to bed after the fifth date and treated you like a goddess the entire night, not to mention well into the morning when you woke up to breakfast in bed and had him kissing up and down your arms while you ate strawberries.
Bruce Wayne: Who started buying you gifts constantly, even though you told him it wasn't necessary— stupidly expensive dresses for you to wear to galas he plans to take you to, jewelry to match, purses to replace your old and cheap ones.
Bruce Wayne: Who paid off your student loans after you made a joke about being in debt, which you were, and only told you because the bank declined one of your payments, saying you had paid it off in full. All 97k. He said it was spare change.
Bruce Wayne: Who received a slew of insults and a lot of name calling from the media, plus several comments and quips from his kids, especially Dick, who you were technically younger than, but ignored all of them because you made him happy.
Bruce Wayne: Who sometimes struggled with self doubt every time he saw you talking to a guy your own age and made sure to remind you why no one else could please you as well as him.
Bruce Wayne: Who spends his mornings laying with you and on you, his fingers stroking your bare arms while he peppered your neck with kisses after spending all night showing you how much he loved you— how young he felt with you.
# “IS IT NEW YEAR’S YET, I’M GETTIN’ BORED, SO CAN WE SKIP AHEAD?” ── .✦. ( a drabble of celebrating with batboys new years with batboys !! )
a/n: it’s 2025 oml, this year has been filled with ups and downs and many tears, many smiles, I wish that I live longer enough to enough plenty of years in peace, for 2025 my New Year’s resolution is to expand my interests && meet new people and friends and to be kind, understandable, happy, and positive and poetic !! Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)
Dick insists on going out for New Year’s Eve. He loves the energy of the city and wants to celebrate with you in style.
He takes you to a rooftop party with the best view of Gotham’s fireworks. He’s that guy pulling you onto the dance floor and spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.
When the countdown begins, he gets super excited, holding your hands and hyping up the moment like, “This is it! Best year yet, babe!”, “it’s just new years dick calm down.”
At midnight, he gives you a movie-worthy kiss, dipping you slightly for dramatic effect.
After the party, you both grab late-night street food and walk around the city, talking about your hopes for the new year.
JASON TODD ── .✦
Jason prefers a quieter New Year’s Eve at home, but he doesn’t mind doing something small if it makes you happy.
He sets up a cozy evening with your favorite snacks, drinks, and a movie marathon. “This is better than overpriced parties and sweaty crowds, right?”
As the clock nears midnight, he’ll make a sarcastic comment like, “Think 2024 will be the year Gotham finally gets its act together?”
At midnight, he gives you a sweet kiss and mumbles, “Here’s to another year of putting up with me.
If you want to do something fun, he might take you to a rooftop to watch fireworks. He holds you close and pretends it’s just for warmth, but he’s smiling the whole time.
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
Tim’s ideal New Year’s involves a mix of productivity and relaxation. He plans a cute night in where you can both reflect on the past year and set goals for the new one.
He buys a journal or a vision board for the two of you to fill out together. “Okay, what’s your most unrealistic goal for this year? Let’s make it happen.”
He struggles to stay awake as midnight approaches, though. You catch him dozing off during a movie, and he grumbles when you wake him. “I’m not asleep I’m resting my eyes.”
At midnight, he kisses you softly and murmurs, “Thanks for making this year better.”
If you want to go out, he’ll humor you with a cute date to a low-key café or a small gathering with friends.
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
Damian treats New Year’s as a time to improve himself. He’s not into big parties, but he’ll indulge your preferences to make you happy.
If you want to stay in, he sets up a fancy dinner for the two of you with candles and elegant dishes he helped Alfred prepare. “We’ll celebrate properly, without the chaos.”
He rolls his eyes at New Year’s resolutions but secretly sets a few for himself, especially involving you. “Fine. I resolve to… be more patient with you.” (You tease him for that.)
At midnight, he gives you a shy but heartfelt kiss and says, “I’m glad you’re in my life this year.”
If you convince him to watch fireworks, he’ll grumble about the noise but eventually relaxes when you lean against him.
BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
Bruce makes New Year’s a classy affair. He takes you to a gala or hosts an elegant party at Wayne Manor.
He’s by your side the whole night, introducing you to important guests and making sure you feel like the most important person in the room.
At midnight, he’ll find a quiet corner to steal a private moment with you, giving you a soft, lingering kiss and whispering, “Thank you for making this year so much brighter.”
If you prefer something low-key, he’ll cancel all plans and spend the evening with you at home. You’ll share champagne by the fire, reminiscing about the past year.
He’s the type to surprise you with a meaningful gift at the stroke of midnight, like a bracelet engraved with the date or a key to the Manor if you don’t already live there.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation
A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back.
Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you.
You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.
Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.
You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”
He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.
You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.
You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”
You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”
Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.
“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.
He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.
You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”
His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”
“Why not?”
He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”
Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”
“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”
He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”
He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.
You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”
He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea.
Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”
“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”
You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.
You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”
Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”
He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”
You nod adamantly, “I will.”
You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission.
He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”
You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.
You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”
You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.
His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”
You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.
It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”
He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.
“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”
Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.
His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.
“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.
You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.
He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips.
“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”
You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.
You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”
He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”
It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.
You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.
But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead.
He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.
He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.
He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.
This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.
His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.
“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you.
Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.
It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.
You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long.
You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.
He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”
You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”
You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs.
He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides.
He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.
You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.
He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.
A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.
“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.
His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him.
He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.
This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.
He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”
His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before.
“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.
His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”
He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.
Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.
He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.
You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.
He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.
You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now.
But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.
So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.
You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.
You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.
“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.
“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.
The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.
His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.
You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.
“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.
He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.
“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”
The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless.
Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.
He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.
You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.
“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.
You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.
He sighs, “Baby…”
His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.
“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.
He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.
In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.
By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.
There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst.
the morning after epilogue
✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
[3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before?
“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you.
You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”
There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.
“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”
“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”
The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly.
“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”
You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.
You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”
You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette.
Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown.
Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”
You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing.
“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”
“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”
“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”
Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend.
“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”
You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something.
You wondered if he’d find it.
“Not everyone?” You whispered.
“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”
Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be.
“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”
Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact.
The silence was too loud now.
“I could show you, if you wanted.”
Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes.
He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”
The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not.
“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”
You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air.
“Show me.”
You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour.
He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle.
He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls.
A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out.
You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him.
He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.
Dizzy. You felt dizzy.
“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer.
You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough.
“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?”
You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too.
“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”
“Wait.”
Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”
“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”
You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”
Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again.
I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason.
He simply pressed his lips to yours.
It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own.
He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar.
You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper.
After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”
“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”
You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—”
Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own.
He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning.
“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”
Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”
“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”
“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”
Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position.
“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”
‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”
You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”
Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin.
“Kiss me.”
So you did.
You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own.
It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise.
“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak.
“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”
He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else.
“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower.
You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you.
“Yeah?” Was all you asked.
“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”
You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours.
“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question.
Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control.
You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch.
You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder.
And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home.
You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed.
You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before.
Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.
And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.
“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”
telling matty (amd his family maybe) that your pregnant on christmas day 😇😇
gonna birthday party this because we've never spoken about this for that au!! ok, so, you fall pregnant with amy at some point on your honeymoon, at the beginning of september, which means 12 weeks is like the second week of december - matty, quite sensibly, is like "what's another two weeks, darling? let's just wait until everyone comes over for christmas, and we can tell them together. nobody's left out, it stops you stressing about making sure nobody's out of the loop, it's perfect", and you agree. and it actually works out better to tell everyone on christmas eve, at a little informal party you and matty hold - some of your friend group are there, the boys and their partners (shy gf hello!) pop in, too, their last day together until new year, and your families are already there and staying that night. you field questions from people as to why you aren't drinking the whole night, telling them you're on antibiotics for a mild chest infection but you're fine and matty's been taking care of you; you're mildly offended when people actually believe you like "oh, yeah, you've been looking a bit ill lately!", and matty thinks it's so fucking funny but he hugs you and says you look perfect. anyway, you do a little speech and thank everyone for coming, and matty does a bit like "we've actually got an early christmas present for all of you. well, i say early - the due date is actually in june, so... yeah". there's a stunned silence for a second as everyone processes, broken by george (slightly high) giggling "due date... like it's a baby lol", and matty's like "george, you fucking idiot, that's exactly what i was alluding to", and the room just goes into meltdown. your parents cry. matty's parents cry. your friends cry. you cry. matty fucking WEEPS. mayhem is baffled (but you're sure he'd cry happy tears if he could lol). christmas day is so sweet with your families, too, despite their panic at not having anything for their developing newest addition - denise just keeps hugging you and matty and bursting into tears, and when she's not doing that she's hugging your mum like "our babies are having a baby!" lmao. matty spends the whole day - well, when he's not shovelling roast potatoes into his mouth - with his arms around you and his hands on the bump, enveloping you and amy in the love obvious in the air, murmuring "love you" in your ear every 3 seconds and generally just being extremely cute. yeah, it's lovely <3
summary: in which matty tells you you are everything he wants.
warnings: angst, but honestly not much.
a/n: felt inspired by sabrina’s fruitcake. hopefully a first of many christmas’ short one shots.
English is not my first language !
The moment Matty had started growing facial hair, everyone knew. They just knew, it was obvious, that you finally had him entranced and with no sign of turning back.
“You would look really good with a beard” and just a man in love would follow through and through to show you how much he listens to you.
But how come— when he looks at you from afar all lovey-dovey, takes you by the waist when talking to other people, and tells everyone he wrote songs about you mid-concert— the two of you hadn’t made it official?
And here you stand, in the middle of a Christmas Eve party at Charli’s and George’s, taking a sip of eggnog while Matty is lively talking to his bandmates, and you’re just there. Alone.
Maybe it’s your boring white Rory Gilmore sweater. Maybe it’s your blurred lipstick from earlier, after you kissed Matty’s tears away from his cheeks right after he told you about Pitchfork naming him Villain of the Year. Or maybe it’s the eggnog that’s making you a little dizzy.
You put the glass down and take a glass of water from the kitchen. That is when you feel a pair of familiar hands around your waist, making you put the glass on the counter and whip your head to the side with a smile.
“Hey gorgeous” Matty says with his usual raspy, (goddamn) sexy voice tone.
“Hi,” you say in response “what’s up?”
“Just wanted to see how my girl was doing,” he tells you, kissing your cheek and making your face grow hot “let’s go talk to the guys, okay?”
“Okay” you answer softly.
He guides you back to his circle and this time around things go more swiftly than before. You have always gotten along with Matty’s friends, but it was just that situationship factor that didn’t make you feel good around them. Like, why was Matty keeping you there if you weren’t, at least officially, his girlfriend? He’d never asked you the question, he’d never hinted at it at least, he just introduced you to new people as ‘Y/N, my friend.’
“Can I go home with you after the party?”
Matty scrunched up his nose at your question.
“Of course. Why are you asking? You always stay at mine, right?”
You gave him a weak smile and nodded.
“Yeah… Just needed to get sure.”
Matty immediately noted the way you weren’t comfortable at all, you saw it in the way his eyes shifted from confused to harshness.
“Come on, let’s just go now.”
“What? No, you’re having a great time now.”
“But clearly you’re not,” Matty says a little louder than expected, and you lift your head from his to look around with a small frown “why do you care if someone hears us?”
“I don’t– Just, come on, let’s go talk somewhere more private.”
Taking his hand on yours, you drag him to one of the empty bedrooms, closing the door behind you with a sigh.
“I’d be making a joke about you wanting to get me alone and shit, but honestly you’re scaring me a bit” Matty commented, furrowing his brow as he took your other hand in his.
“I’m okay just…” you sighed “Matty, what are we?”
There it was, the question that would probably scare him away. For good or for bad, it had to be asked.
“What do you mean?” Matty asked, even more confused.
“I mean… Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Friends that sometimes hook up?”
Matty put his lips in a thin line before answering.
“Y/N, we started this because you wanted just to fuck.”
That makes your heart drop, and you have to fight the urge to sigh in defeat.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s been almost a year, and… I mean… I like being with you.” you explain to him, biting your lip slightly before continuing talking “We go on dates and we have clothes at each other’s apartments. We’re close. We’re not just a couple of people that want to fuck anymore!”
Matty was startled by the way your voice had risen and your cheeks were starting to get red from frustration. And so were you, but you didn’t care, this needed to be finally solved.
“Babe, breathe.”
“Breathe? How do you want me to breathe?!” you asked him, slipping your hands off his to put them in your head “I think I have the right to say that out of the people in that room, I know you better than anyone. We’ve been through each other’s good and bad Matty, why… Can’t I be the one to give you everything you want?”
Matty immediately steps up to you and takes your hands off your head, placing them on his chest so you can feel just how warm he is. His eyes pierce into yours and then you feel it. His heartbeat, going a hundred times a minute. It makes you flustered that just like that, he can calm you down, but once more, it perfectly shows how good he knows you.
One or two curls fall onto his forehead as he looks straight into you and starts talking. You curse in your head that even in this time and place he looks freaking gorgeous.
“Y/N, I didn’t make anything official because you never told me you wanted to make it official,” you open your mouth to argue but he doesn’t let you speak “no, don’t argue against that. Communication is the key if we want something formal between the two of us, and God knows I’ve been craving to be with you and brag about you ever since you asked me to be your fuckfriend, but I didn’t do it because I thought you didn’t want to.”
You gulp and frown. It is true, the two of you didn’t communicate clearly with one another.
“Yeah, you are… Right,” you say with a sigh, squeezing his hands in yours for reassurance. He does the same in response and that makes you blush in a soft manner “why didn’t you say anything though?”
Matty raises an eyebrow.
“Did you just see yourself? You were almost breaking this off.”
“What?! No I wasn’t!”
“Yes you were,” Matty said, a small smile on his lips “you’re neurotic sometimes babe.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Make me.”
In a swift and quick move, you land a kiss on his lips, and when you pull back with a smirk, he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you in to devour your lips fervently, but quickly, leaving you dizzy as he pulls back.
“There,” he says, smiling widely now as he watches your eyes blurry with love and happiness “happy?”
“Very much.”
Matty smiles and grabs you in a hug, squeezing your body against his as you huff out a ‘I hate you’ and he murmurs a ‘And I love you’. After pulling back you hook your arms on his neck and he puts his hands on your waist.
“Oh and Y/N?” he asks in a whisper.
“What?”
Matty leans in, kisses your cheek and says to your ear:
“You are the one that can give me everything I want.”
okay i saw you reblogged a post about matty squaring up to ross, ross pushing him, and matty going flying and i’m sorry but i need to see this 😭😭 where can i find it 💀
So I didn't know whether I was going to say anything about everything that's happened recently. It was a lot and yesterday was my birthday and we've been doing renovation on the new house so I've been busy. @abiiors said a lot that accurate describes how I feel here.
But I cant stay quiet, I need to say my own two cents too because I'm annoyed.
It's pissing me off that people think they own the boys, that because of their love for them that entities them to fucked up opinions. Some of the shit I've seen is fucking horrid and just down right misogynistic and just so fucking backward. To insinuate that their relationships are fucking PR and that the women you're talking shit about got to where they are because of the guys, or are using them to up their status is fucking ridiculous. All of them had established careers before being with the guys and if you think otherwise you're a fucking bellend.
Women don't need men to hoist their position. Carly, Gabbriette, Chari, Chloe, all of them are fucking killing the game and they don't need any of the guys to help them with that. And women who support other women (some of whom we may also be fans of) aren't the "girlfriend Calvary" were fucking decent human beings.
no yeah guys she’s fucking right. y’all gotta recognize the difference, and yeah, these girls are absolute baddies and were the absolute best before meeting the boys. besides, they look SO FUCKING happy at the moment.
steve is definitely the kind of boyfriend that gets distracted as he tries to decorate the tree because he wants to dance with his girl to christmas music around the living room so badly that it takes them hours to make the whole house all festive and sparkly because between the dancing and hanging the mistletoe it's impossiblefor him to focus <3
