#Congratulations on your face and your heart

[wileys-russo]

can i request something with alexia x reader based off one if the videos post win. the one where olga tried scoring on alexia but instead of missing reader makes it and then copies alexias celebration

goalscorer II a.putellas

you weren't sure whose hand would break first, yours or albas, with the way you both had a death grip on one another as the extra time slowly ticked down to zero and it felt as though the entire stadium held its breath.

then finally, the whistle.

for a brief moment it was like time stood still as the players raced onto the pitch, your body on fire as every hair stood on end and the ground beneath your feet vibrated with the thunderous roar of a stadium full of culers.

then arms were thrown around your neck as alexia's family all screamed happily and exchanged hugs, your own parents sat in the row behind forever supportive of your fiancé since the moment you'd taken her home to meet them.

you blinked and suddenly snapped back into reality, the screams deafening in your ear as you were drowned in affection from the elated putellas-segura family surrounding you.

your heart swelled with pride as you finally caught alexia's eye, a beaming grin flashed your way and both her hands waving before she was called over for the trophy and medal ceremony.

eventually you were all ushered down toward the front of the barrier, eli and alba going first as they engulfed your fiance in bear hugs, both women with tears streaming down their faces as alexia rolled her eyes playfully and squeezed them tighter.

with a nudge in the back from her uncle and a wink you were next, two strong hands helping you over the barrier as your feet touched the pitch and your eyes remained locked with the blonde grinning down at you.

time once more seemed to stop and suddenly it was just the two of you, your congratulations and how proud you were murmured over and over in her ear as finally your arms wrapped around one another and you'd never felt safer than being within them.

you let out a laugh as you were held tighter and lifted momentarily up into their air, spun around for a moment as alexia's forehead pressed against yours, lips just grazing your cheek both of you well aware that despite the intimacy of your embrace it was anything but a private moment.

"taking your captain title to a new level mi amor." you teased, tugging at the barcelona flag draped around her shoulders like a makeshift cape, reeling in the very slight blush which coated her cheeks at your words which you knew if you called her out on she would dismiss as flush from running around.

"captain catalunya, hero of barcelona." you grinned, kissing her cheek and stepping away for a moment to allow some of her childhood friends to rush in and express their own congratulations, dragged away by alba to speak with your own parents and eli.

"no i did not!" you denied with bright red cheeks as your father embellished a story of how the first time you'd watched one of alexia's games with them at home you'd almost thrown the remote through the screen when your girlfriend at the time was fouled.

"stop laughing! you'll just encourage him." you shoved alba who only threw her head back as you playfully shot your grinning father a glare, relaxing as familiar arms looped around your waist and a chin settled on your shoulder.

"hola amor." the soft raspy murmur as a subtle kiss was placed on your jaw and you melted backwards into your lovers touch as praise for her showered down from those around you.

"hermana! we were just talking about the time that-" alba started as you kicked at her causing the girl to gasp and shove you, alexia's hand shooting out to swat her sisters away and a warning look set in her features as alba rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, turning around to converse elsewhere.

"aye go speak to maría's parents, mami take him away por favor he has had too much sun!" you groaned catching the teasing look on your fathers face and nodding behind them where your second parents milled around happily, your childhood best friend nowhere in sight.

though it wasn't long before she made an appearance, bursting out of the tunnel yelling at the top of her lungs, brandishing her little barcelona flag that had acted like an emotional support throughout her injury.

you'd tried scheming with ingrid to get rid of it after mapi started to sleep with it in the bed and then almost took your eye out waving it around like a mad woman as you sat beside her at a game, alexia almost snapping it herself after seeing the deep purple bruise under your right eye where your best friend had accidentally poked you with it.

but watching the childlike joy twinkle brightly in her eyes as she raced around like an overgrown toddler, chased by lucy's neice and nephew you couldn't help but smile and shake your head.

"maybe she will retire the flag now we are four for four this season and she will be back on the pitch soon." alexia chuckled, still hugging you tightly as you grinned, leaning your head back to catch her eye as she winked.

"at least it has been a distraction from her making us say thank you every time we go out with her and ingrid." you rolled your eyes, turning in her hold to face your girlfriend who hummed.

it had indeed been mapi who introduced the two of you after a game years ago, a friendship blossoming between you and alexia long before a relationship. but despite that the tattooed defender relished in the ego boost felt from telling anyone with ears that it was all thanks to her that you two were together.

"can you imagine her speech at the wedding?" you sighed with a shake of your head, alexia letting go of you to fiddle about with the flag tied around her, picking at the knot.

"i remember the day they first met, because it was all thanks to me that we are even gathered here today! chica's...you are so welcome." alexia mocked making you laugh as she pulled the flag off.

"maybe i can get her so drunk she will pass out before the speeches?" you suggested, your fiancé instead draping the flag around you and tying it loosely over your shoulders.

"a perfect plan cari." the blonde winked, squeezing your shoulders. "who is captain catalunya now?" the footballer teased, tugging at your new cape and glancing over your head where her name was called for more photos.

"go amor, i'll find you later." you promised, squeezing her hands as she nodded and pulled you into another tight hug, lips grazing the side of your head as you softly rubbed her back and begrudgingly let go, her figure retreating into the swarm of people on the pitch.

you were mid conversation with some of the other girls families, stood beside alba and twisting around your engagement ring on your finger when she struck.

"campeones! campeones! campeones!" you hurtled forward nearly barreling over jana's parents as a body launched themselves onto you, legs wrapping around your torso as panos hurried to steady you.

"gracias! lo siento." you thanked the goalkeeper before profusely apologising to jana's parents as the young midfielder was busy doubled over laughing, your cheeks bright red at the disruption.

"mierda!" the brunette swore as you wrenched her legs off, causing her to drop promptly onto the ground with a wince, jana falling to the floor laughing even harder as alba joined in and mapi glared up at you with a huff.

"algunos bienvenidos. is that a way to greet your best friend!" the girl pouted as you rolled your eyes and pulled her back to her feet. "maría!" you groaned as once more she launched onto you, this time in another forceful koala hug but from the front.

"campeones de europa!" the girl threw her head back and screamed, a smile unable to stay off your face as you held her thighs and she grabbed your cheeks, kissing your forehead over and over with a repeated loud mwah noise.

"vale vale!" you laughed, dropping her again though this time she remained on her feet, the two of you hugging normally as you told her how proud you were. "i did not even play idiota!" the older girl shoved your head as the two of you pulled away.

"no, but your contributions to the team morale and being their biggest supporter even not on the pitch mean just as much. you know that, sí?" you promised, tone softening as did the defenders face. "gracias mi chica." the girl smiled, kissing your cheek and waving her flag around which she snatched up off the ground.

"if you poke her eye with that flag again león we are going to have a problem." you smiled as your fiance slotted herself in behind you again, a warning look at the tattooed footballer in front of you making mapi roll her eyes.

"tan dramática her eye healed fine! and she almost broke my flag." the girl cradled the piece of cloth and plastic tenderly in her arms, stroking it like you might a newborn making you roll your eyes.

"oh i am so sorry my poor face nearly broke your stupid flag maría." you shook your head feeling alexia chuckle as her body vibrated against your back. "gracias, now was that so hard?" mapi smiled as you lunged for her and she raced off.

"idiota." you rolled your eyes allowing alexia to lead you away back toward where your families were milling about.

"mi amor." you looked up from speaking with your mother, raising an eyebrow to your fiance who held up a tiny football in her hands with a suggestive grin.

"really?" you chuckled, but sighing in acceptance when her grin didn't drop, gesturing for her to give you the ball as she rolled it to you and backed into goal.

"vamos bebé, score a goal! if you can." the blonde teased in challenge. "what do i get when i score putellas?" you questioned crossing your arms, foot resting on top of the small childrens football.

"if you score, anything you want preciosa." alexia grinned cockily as you rolled your eyes and backed up a few steps. "remember to kick the ball and not the air amor!" your fiance continued to tease.

"vamos captain barça, maybe we will get you a job as the water girl for the team!" you turned to shoot your best friend a murderous glare as her face paled and she scurried off to find ingrid no doubt, her much better other half.

spurred on by the lack of faith from your loved ones, even your own father joining in with alexia's teasings, you took one more step back and lurched forward.

you made sure to do exactly as you'd watched your fiance do a million times in your backyard, driving your foot forward and following through, the ball zooming forward at a pace alexia clearly didn't anticipate as it shot past her.

you let out a cheer and pumped your fist in the air, racing around in a circle and grabbing the bottom of your alexia's jersey intending to tug it off exactly the way the blonde had an hour prior after her own goal.

"ale!" you laughed as a strong arm wrapped around your waist and another swatted your hand away. "mi amor you are ruining my celebration." you tutted with a shake of her head and a sigh.

"my celebration, and you are keeping that shirt on!" your fiance warned as you rolled your eyes and she teasingly flicked your ear. "oh wait-" you pushed away from her as she looked on curiously.

you cleared your throat and took a dramatic bow, a few onlookers clapping and cheering making you grin and alexia now the one to roll her eyes. "mm hilarious princesa."

"i thought so. now cariño...what was that about anything i wanted?"

#woso #woso community #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs

[nayziiz]

Hungry | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (you)

Author's note: A little fluff in honour of his Monaco win.

Masterlist

The memory of many anguished nights flashed through your mind like a montage. You remembered the way he clenched your shirt until his knuckles turned white, the self-doubt etched in his features as he whispered about the weight of expectations. His father sacrificed so much to get Charles to that point, and his godfather, undeniably talented, had only added to the legacy he was expected to uphold. Through all that doubt and insecurity, you were the silent witness to his struggles, the steady rock in the turbulent sea of his emotions.

But today, all of that was behind him. The sun cast a golden glow on the podium, and the crowd’s roar was deafening, an ocean of sound that seemed to lift him higher. The other drivers, his fiercest competitors, now stood below, clapping and smiling in genuine respect. The victory was not just a win; it was a vindication, a triumphant answer to every fear and insecurity that had haunted him. He had won his home race in Monaco. He was indeed the racing Prince of Monaco.

His eyes, searching through the sea of faces, found yours. There was a moment—a brief, heart-stopping moment—when the world seemed to pause. His smile widened, and you saw the tears in his eyes, a mirror of your own. He raised the trophy high, and the sunlight caught on the gleaming surface, scattering sparkles of light.

You thought about the sacrifices, the missed birthdays, the holidays spent apart, the nights you lay awake in an empty bed. It had all led to this moment. He had chased his dream with a relentless drive, and you had been right there beside him, every step of the way. Now, as the national anthem played and the flag was raised, you felt a surge of pride so intense it was almost overwhelming.

The scent of champagne filled the air, mingling with the heady smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. The spray of the champagne was like a baptism, a cleansing of all past failures and disappointments. As he descended from the podium, surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, you knew that his journey was far from over, but this victory was a milestone—a beacon of hope for all the races yet to come.

He reached you, his steps quickening as he approached. The crowd seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared emotion. He pulled you into a tight embrace, the trophy cool against your back. You felt his heartbeat, fast and strong, a rhythm that matched your own.

“You did it,” you whispered, your voice choking with tears.

“We did it,” he corrected, his voice trembling. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You smiled through your tears, knowing that this moment, this victory, was as much yours as it was his. You had both crossed a finish line today, together.

The celebrations didn’t stop on the podium; they carried well into the night and into the early morning. After the podium ceremony, a whirlwind of congratulations and interviews, the festivities moved into the city. The streets were alive with the hum of excitement, fans and friends eager to share in the joy of his triumph. The night began at a fancy restaurant, where a private room had been reserved for the champion and his closest circle.

He barely let go of your hand, keeping you close and by his side at all times. The room buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, the air thick with the aroma of gourmet food. Toasts were made, speeches filled with heartfelt words of admiration and pride. He looked at you often, his eyes saying more than words ever could. Each time someone praised him for his determination and skill, he squeezed your hand, silently acknowledging your part in his journey.

From the restaurant, the celebration flowed seamlessly to a club, the music pulsating with energy that mirrored the elation in his heart. The dim lights and vibrant colours created a dreamlike atmosphere, a stark contrast to the gruelling days of training and the harsh light of the racetrack. Here, in this place of revelry, he danced with a freedom you had rarely seen, his movements fluid and uninhibited. Yet, even amidst the crowd, he kept you close, his hand firm around yours, as if letting go would break the spell of the night.

He didn’t care about his trophy, which had already been safely tucked away in your shared apartment. What mattered to him was having you there to celebrate with him, to embrace your role in his success. Every time someone raised a glass to his victory, he turned to you, his gaze filled with gratitude and love. He introduced you to everyone, his pride evident as he spoke about your unwavering support, how you had been his anchor, his confidant, his greatest source of strength.

Hours passed like minutes, the night blending into early morning. As the first light of dawn began to filter through the club’s windows, Charles finally made the call to go home. He was exhausted and his body hurt more than he was willing to admit. The adrenaline from the race and the euphoria of the celebration had kept him going, but now the physical toll of the day was undeniable.

You both stumbled into your apartment, giggling like teenagers in love as you finally managed to remove your heels from your feet. The cool floor was a welcome relief, and you let out a contented sigh. Charles, meanwhile, collapsed on the couch, his head leaning back, eyes half-closed but still watching you with a tender smile.

“You okay over there, champ?” you teased, leaning against the arm of the couch to look at him.

“I’m more than okay,” he replied, his voice a mix of exhaustion and happiness. “I’m perfect.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you made your way over to him. “Come on, you need to get out of those clothes and into bed.”

He groaned in agreement but didn’t move, his body too spent to cooperate. You knelt down and helped him untie his shoes, slipping them off his feet and setting them aside. He watched you with a grateful expression, his eyes filled with love.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You take care of me all the time,” you countered, smiling as you stood up and extended your hand. “Now it’s my turn.”

With some effort, you managed to pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and you steadied him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you guided him to the bedroom. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. It felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven after the whirlwind of the night.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed, and you helped him out of his shirt, revealing the lean, muscled frame beneath. You couldn’t help but admire the way his skin glistened slightly with sweat, a testament to the physical demands of his sport. He caught your gaze and chuckled softly.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice playful despite his exhaustion.

“Always,” you replied, your tone sincere as you leaned in to kiss him. “Now lie down and get some rest.”

“This has been the best day of my life, Thank you for being here with me, for everything.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck.

You hugged him tightly, your heart swelling with love. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

When you stepped away to take off your dress, Charles’ eyes remained locked on your body.

“Now who’s staring?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a playful smirk.

“I’m just hungry,” he responded, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh, you want me to make you something?” you asked innocently, unclipping your bra and turning around to look for a pyjama set.

“No, no. But you can turn around,” he insisted. You did as he requested, feeling his eyes on you, every movement intensified by his attention. “Why would I want anything other than the full buffet in front of me?”

“You’re cheesy as hell, Mr. Leclerc. It’s a good thing you’re cute. And, a Monaco Grand Prix winner,” you teased, walking towards him with a deliberate sway in your hips until you were right between his legs.

He reached out, his hands resting on your hips as he looked up at you with a mix of admiration and desire.

“I’m serious. You’re everything I could ever want," he said softly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, not just from his words but from the sincerity in his eyes. Leaning down, you placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension and exhaustion in his muscles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, your voice gentle. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

He grinned, tugging you closer until you were straddling his lap.

“Maybe just a few more minutes like this,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. You melted into him, the connection between you both a balm to the long and arduous journey to this point. Breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“Only a few more minutes. Then we both need to sleep,” you agreed with a smile. He nodded, his hands caressing your back as he held you close.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “For everything.”

You kissed him again, softly, conveying all the love and support you felt for him. “I’ll always be here for you, Charles. Always.”

With that, you both changed into your sleepwear and crawled into bed together, limbs entwined, hearts beating in perfect sync. As he drifted off to sleep, his breathing deep and even, you lay awake a little longer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand.

The first rays of morning light began to peek through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You knew that this moment, this feeling, was something you would cherish forever. The journey had been challenging, but it had brought you to this point—wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, celebrating his victory, and looking forward to a future filled with hope and promise.

Finally, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, the warmth of his embrace and the softness of the bed lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Whatever the future held, you knew you would face it together, side by side, every step of the way.

#charles x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #leclerc #ferrari f1 #charles leclerc 16 #forza ferrari #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #monaco grand prix #monaco gp 2024 #monaco24 #monaco 2024

[garykingz]

girl I like your take (“Charles has a crush on Max but it’s completely different to Max having crush on Charles). Explore pls!!!!

Omg, nonnie, I could go ON about how different yet the same these two are with each other. Body language is absolutely everything with Max and Charles, though I'm sure everyone knows this. Max's yapping isn't everything.

Honestly, I genuinely believe with my heart of hearts that Max has an actual crush on Charles, there is, and it sounds like a joke but I'm being serious, no heterosexual reason for him to act the way he does around him. (This is coming from an aromantic, so it's not like I'm seeing something that's not there.)

I've made a post before about how I think some of these guys are not straight but bc of how F1 is built on dodgy sponsors(BIG MONEY) and can't forget the corrupt FIA, they can't just say it. That's a whole other can of worms I won't get into rn tho.

Anyway – the way I see is that Charles absolutely, without an ounce of doubt, knows Max has a crush on him. Like the OP mentioned in their post, how Charles' Christmas gift to Max was the F1 game with all of Charles' face on it, with the tag "for my biggest fan." Yeah, he knows. And he encourages it.

And not to say Charles doesn't crush as hard on Max as Max does on him, Charles absolutely does. He just tries to be nonchalant about it. But his giggles fail him every time Max opens his mouth.

I think the joint Vegas interview is a good example of this. Charles tries to be serious with Max but Max is clearly doing his damnest to make Charles laugh, which obviously, Charles does. Once again, the way Charles looks at Max in this, he knows Max is trying to make him laugh too. (Max also literally quoted Charles' joke from an interview that he wasn't even in, meaning Max WATCHED it in his own time.)

THIS ONE REALLY GETS ME, MAN. Max and Charles look at each other, Max lingers longer on him and Charles ???? Starts touching himself ???? Like he still thinks Max is looking at him??????? Max looks off to a screen that's on them AND LOOKS AT CHARLES AGAIN BC HES ACTING THAT WAY?? WEIRDOS.

Charles wants to be nonchalant and chill so bad but he's not slick. He's just as down bad as Max is and thinks we don't see it.

(GIFs belong to @pretzelgotze)

Or when Charles stopped mid interview to go speak with Max.

Or Charles, not getting podium at all, yet running for his life, leaving his radio on for Xavi to still ask if he's there, the car empty, because he wanted to be the first one to congratulate Max on his WDC in Qatar last year.

Or Charles ditching his little jeep for him and him alone to go and sit with Max, even though the car is NOT made for two people, he sits in it anyway and they both get driven away as they wave at the cameras. It's giving just married.

This is long as hell now, apologies, told ya I'd ramble LMAO

Anyway, conclusion: Charles tries to hide the fact that he has a crush on Max but his body language and giggling fails him every single time.

Extra conclusion: not to be taken TOO seriously but they are in fact my ken dolls that I make kiss

#rambles #f1 #asks #anon #otp: just an inchident #lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Congratulations on 1.6k WIFEY 🩷🎀💋

🐇 Eddie spaghetti, reader says “I never meant to fall in love with you… I just did.” Ball worship… you know😉😏 😌

Eeee tysm baby girl!! I love you!! IM KISSING U RN!!🖤😚 This low key got away from me and isn’t a blurb but I was possessed by his balls.😩

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: Ball worship, pet names, past enemies to lovers, slight hair pulling, established relationship, fluff. 18+MDNI!1.3k

You’re laying in Eddie’s lap on the couch as random horror reruns flash across the tv screen. He’s very invested in the plot of sleepaway camp, giving you random eddie esc commentary here and there. But you can hardly focus on what he’s saying with the way his large ringed fingers scratch your scalp and run down your arm, the calloused tips finding their way under your shirt to stroke the stoke the skin on your hip. Especially since your cheek rested against his mostly soft cock (he could get hard at a moments notice with you around) and all he’s wearing is those flimsy little plaid pajama pants so you can smell his musk.

All you can think about is pulling his pants down so you can lean over and shove your face directly in his balls. His balls. That feel so fucking perfect when you wrap your lips around them and swirl your tongue. His balls that are just so sensitive and the minute you give them any attention he’s a whiney whimpering mess for you. There was just something about Eddie Munson’s balls that drove you insane. Maybe it was the way they hung perfectly nestled behind his thick cock. Or that cute little peach fuzz that they were covered in. It definitely has something to do with the way they tighten up when he cums, practically emptying before your eyes. Ultimately it probably boils down to just how much you love the man they were attached to, and how badly you want to worship every inch of him.

Which is funny considering all the time you spent hating him growing up. But when you ran into him in the city six years after high school he inevitably charmed his way into your heart. If told your high school self you’d be lying in Eddie Munson’s lap, daydreaming about his balls she would’ve laughed in your face. But alas, here you are, staring down at his crotch with heart eyes.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you… I just did…” You sigh dreamily, bringing your hand up to rest at the crook of his thigh as your nuzzle your cheek against his cock.

“Aw baby, I love you so much I -“ his sentence is cut short when your hand travels from his thigh to cup his balls as you continue to rub your face against him. “Wait… are you talking to my cock right now?”

“Uh-uh, not your cock…” You hum as you start to gently roll his sack in your palm.

“Princess.” He chuckles, cupping your face in his hand to get you to look up at him. It takes everything in you to stop staring at the cloth of his pajamas like you’re suddenly going to gain x-ray vision. “Are you talking to my balls? Did you just profess your love to my nutsack?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you continue to knead his heavy balls through that god forsaken fabric. “They’re just so nice.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “What’s so great about them, huh?”

“I could tell you… but I think it would be more fun if I just showed you instead.” You flip your body towards him before running your hand across his bare abdomen, making sure to stop to stroke that little thatch of hair under his belly button. You lean forward and place an open mouthed kiss on the tattoo on his chest as your hand travels down into his pants. You take his shaft in your hand, pumping him a few times, you run your thumb along the tip, smearing the precum that gathered there.

“Oh fuuuck, sweetheart.” Eddie groans as he throws his head back. One of his large hands grips onto your hip your while the other finds purchase in his messy mane.

“Mmm wanna make you feel so good, Eddie baby.” You kiss along his chest and down his abdomen as your hand descends lower, cupping his balls again. You massage them in your palm, squeezing them lightly, running the tips of your fingers along the silky sensitive skin. You push yourself up slightly so you can latch your lips onto his, capturing them in a desperate kiss. He moans against your mouth and runs his tongue along your bottom lip, you separate your lips enough for him to slip in and intertwine your tongues.

You continue to make out as you rub him with your hand until you can’t take it anymore, you need to get your mouth on him. You push yourself off the couch onto your knees and grab onto the waistband of those god damn pants, pulling them down and off his ankles. Your eyes hone in on his hard cock and drink in his sack before traveling all over naked his form.

“So pretty, you’re so pretty Eddie.” You run your hands along his muscular thighs, the feeling of the course hairs there sending chills through your body. You kiss up each one of his legs, leaving little nips and flicks of your tongue along the way.

“Fuuuuck, baby doll, that feels so nice.” Eddie groans, one of his hands snaking around to gently cup the back of your head as he looks down at slack jawed and wide eyed like you hung the stars. You hold eye contact with him and you spit on your palm as you take his sack in your now lubed up hand. You fondle him for a moment before leaning down to lightly suck one of his balls into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the velvety skin. You grab grabs onto his cock with one hand and begin to pump him while the other runs up and down his chest, lightly scratching him with your nails.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s so fucking good.” Eddie’s moans, the hold on your head tightening slightly as his fingers start to grab onto your hair. You run your tongue along his sack, making sure to give each side equal attention, running your tongue along each and every inch of them.

“Just love your balls so much, love all of you so much. You smell so good. Wanna make you cum.” You’re practically rambling, drunk off the pleasure you’re giving him. You suck his other ball between your lips, giving it the same treatment. Swirling your tongue, varying between gentle and slightly harder sucking motions. Your hand continues to pump his shaft, your thumb coming up to rub along his slit every once in a while.

“Oh god - oh fuck - baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” Eddie’s hips buck slightly as he tugs on your hair, the sexiest moans and whimpers you’ve ever heard leaving his lips.

“Yes, please give it to me.” You practically whine as you pull off of him, looking at him with your mouth and chin covered in drool and he swears he could probably just cum right fucking now. “Wanna feel your balls twitch between my lips when you cum.”

“Holyfuckingshit. Baby, fuck, you’re so hot, oh fuuuuck -“ Eddie throws his head back when you lean down to take his whole sack in your mouth, sucking on him like a god damn succubus. Your strokes on his cock never let up as you continue to practically devour his balls. When your grip on his shaft tightens slightly just as you run your tongue right across the crease of his sack it sends him over the edge.

“Oh shit, I’m fucking cumming, I’m cumming fuck.” Eddie’s thighs tremble as his cock twitches in your hand and you feel his balls tighten against your tongue. You don’t stop until you feel him start to practically go limp under you. You pull off of him, resting your cheek on his thigh as you gaze up at him.

“Shit Teddie, that was so fucking hot, you’re so hot. I wish I did that sooner.” You giggle as you nuzzle into his fuzzy leg.

“Psh! I was hot!? You practically just started a religion in my balls’ name and you’re calling me hot? You’re something else, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he cups your jaw, running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “You know, ball jokes aside, I never thought I’d fall in love with you… but I’m really fucking glad I did.”

#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

[castiwls]

i think I'll miss you forever - a.d

Paring; art x ex!reader

Requested; no

Synopsis; leaving always hurts worse the second time around

Warnings; none

Notes;this is long and sad :( reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist

Taking another sip you felt the alcohol burn slightly as you swallowed. After the day you had you welcomed the burn, it took your mind off the absolute shit show that was your job. 

Placing your chin onto your palm you continued to mindlessly scroll through another report you’d been sent, mentally making a list of things you’d need to change in the morning. Reaching for your drink you moved your wrist in a small circle, watching as the liquid sloshed around in the glass. 

Taking another sip you placed the glass down. Going back to the report you went back to reading a paragraph you were pretty sure you’d already read. A sigh tumbled from your lips as you scrolled further down - mentally noting more things to change.

The sound of your name being called pulled you from the report. Sitting up straighter your eyes glanced round the relatively empty bar for a moment before you felt your breath stop. 

Your heart seemed to speed up slightly as you noticed the familiar figure only a few feet away. He smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling almost as he noticed your attention on him. 

“Art?” You gasped standing from your chair. He quickly strode across the room, his smile only seeming to widen as he got closer. When he’d first noticed you he could hardly believe it.  

It had been years since he’d last saw you, yet his heart seemed to beat just as fast as it did the day that he’d met you. He’d felt like a teenager again, trying to hype himself up to talk to a cute girl yet you were so much more than that. 

You were so much more to him still, and seeing you again after all those years only made those feelings he’d pushed down come crashing down on him.

“Hey.” His arms quickly engulfed you the moment he was close enough. A small noise of surprise left your lips before you reciprocated the hug. Art felt a small sigh of relief leave his lips as his body relaxed into your hold.

His chin rested on your head as he pulled you slightly closer, almost as if he was unwilling to let go. After a moment you loosened your hold, stepping back slightly.

You didn’t miss the way he kept one of his hands on your waist as he watched you for a moment. “I…I didn’t believe it was you.” He laughed his thumb slowly rubbing your hip. 

You raised an eyebrow crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you saying I’ve changed?” You teased watching as his eyes widened slightly and he shook his head. “No..No I uh,” He rubbed his free hand across his neck. “You don’t look a day older.” 

He was telling the truth. You looked exactly the same as you did when he’d last seen you. 

You flushed slightly letting out a quiet laugh. “Thanks. You…you look good too.” You both grew quiet for a moment, the quiet wasn't an awkward one though it was something comfortable. Something so simple and normal it almost felt as if barely a day had passed since you’d last seen each other.  

“Oh, I uh…I heard about your engagement. Congratulations.” You smiled feeling his grip on your waist tighten for a moment. 

When you’d first heard of Art’s engagement part of you had been angry. You knew realistically it was dumb, you and him had broken up a year after college meaning you no longer held any claim over him. But that didn’t stop the feeling of jealousy that had ran through you at the news.

Tashi had been one of your best friends during college and finding out that she of all people was engaged to your ex had left you spiralling - your bedroom wall still had the evidence of your anger.

Art nodded his smile fading slightly as his gaze fell to his shoes for a moment. “Thanks.” You frowned slightly as his demeanour seemed to fall for a moment before he plastered a grin back on his face.

He didn’t know why hearing you mention his engagement stung so much. He was happy truly yet hearing you congratulate him only left a bad taste in his mouth.  “What about you.” He quickly diverted the conversation watching you with an expectant look. “Anyone in your life?”

“Oh.” you gasped before holding up your left hand. “Married actually. 4 months next week.” You smiled watching as he started at your rings for a moment. “Wow.” Art felt his heart drop slightly as his breathing picked up ever so slightly.

You were married.

“Con…congratulations” He pulled you into another hug, this time though to hide the pained expression on his face. When he’d first seen you part of him hoped that maybe by some miracle you were still single but he knew it was naive.

Of course, you’d be married, who wouldn’t want someone like you? He pulled back after a moment. “I’m happy for you. Really.” You nodded feeling his thumb continue to rub circles on your waist.

For a moment you felt yourself get lost in his eyes. Your heartbeat sped up slightly as he stared down at you his lips parted slightly. His grip tightened on your waist subtly causing you to shuffle slightly closer.

‘It should have been him’ The thought continued to circle through his mind the longer he stood there. It had been so long since he’d felt any sense of jealousy that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

Yet that little green monster seemed to have returned. Taking a quiet breath he pushed the feelings down. He had the life he’d always dreamed off. He was happy.

“It’s um…it’s late i should probably head up.” Your voice pulled him from his head. Art nodded. “Oh yea…i guess i should to.” He begrudgingly released his grip on your waist watching as you turned around to gather your things.

His mind was going a mile a minute as he realised you were slipping away again. For a few moments he’d been able to pretend that you were still his, but then reality came crashing down and he realised that you hadn’t been his for a long time.

"If I had asked, would you have stayed?" The words made you pause. Turning to face him, your eyes widened slightly as you replayed his words in your head. “What?” You felt your lips part slightly as his eyes found yours.

“If I’d have asked you to marry me. Would you have stayed? He repeated. He almost looked like a kicked puppy as he waited for your response, his eyes pledging with you to say something.

You’d have said yes a million times over. Hell, you’d say yes right now if he asked. But you knew it was impossible, your time had passed.

“Art.” You whispered moving to cup his cheek. His hand came up to cover yours as he leaned into the touch - his eyes closing.

You swallowed letting out a shaky breath. “But you never did.” 

Your words were quiet but they cut through him like a knife as he opened his eyes, a small frown pulling at his lips. Dropping your hand you reached for your bag. “So I guess we never know.” You sent him a small smile before mumbling goodnight as you passed him.

As you walked away tears began to sting at your eyes, walking away the first time had been hard yet doing it again felt almost impossible. Reaching the entrance to the lobby you paused, turning back. 

Art stood still watching you. His arms ached to reach out, to make you stay but he knew it was wrong. His eyes were glassy with unleashed tears as you stared at him from across the room. 

His hands shook slightly as he held your gaze. Before you could stop yourself your feet were moving on their own accord. Art reached out, his hand grabbing your wrist once you were close enough. 

You fell back into his arms naturally, your hand settling on the nape of his neck. You felt him tuck his face into the crook of your neck, a shaky breath escaping him. “I love you.” He mumbled as he pulled back.

“I love you too.” You watched as a tear slipped down his cheek. Leaning up you pressed a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for a moment before you pulled back.

Art’s grip on your wrist loosened slightly as you stepped back.

 “Goodbye Art.” 

#challengers #challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson drabble #art donaldson angst #challengers x reader #challengers x you #challengers imagine #challengers drabble #art challengers #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #mike faist #mike faist x reader #.mine #.challengers #.artdonaldson

[loveliestdagger]

the alchemy (bucky barnes x reader)

Where's the trophy? He just comes runnin' over to me – the alchemy, taylor swift

read it on ao3 | go back to the masterlist

summary: a victory kiss duh

word count: 371

warnings: kissing, pre-established relashionship, Bucky being a hozier level women lover, more kissing

a/n: i've never written a kiss before, bonappetit :)

He sees you before you can spot him in the crowd, already sprinting by the many agents filling the hangar. They are here for him. To praise him, to congratulate him on an efficiency they’d once despise. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice how they trip over themselves, admiration and fear in the same measure, on an off chance I'll tear his eyes from you to grant them absolution for their mistakes.

He’d always been graceful in accepting whatever was thrown at him, from weary looks to snarky remarks — gracefully accepting what he thought he deserved. And you’re equally happy and disgusted by your co-workers sudden change of stance. Bucky, you suspect, doesn’t care.

It might have something to do with the way he grabs you, pulling you closer as he lifts you off the ground with ease. Your hands on his shoulders for balance. His mouth is slightly parted in a boyish grin, shiny eyes looking up at you. Or maybe it’s the way his eyes flutter close as your fingers caress his cheek, still caked in blood and dust.

There’s a slight chance it has to do with the way your lips collide with yours, hard and fast. His entire body angles toward you, a cold hand in the small of your back pressing you to him while your hands, previously in his face, entangle themselves in his hair, pulling like it’s in any way possible to have him any closer. There’s a need to it. How he takes his time, making the shape of every corner and crevice – your mouth like a memory he needs to recall. Have you been apart for that long? One would assume so with the way his mouth doesn’t leave yours even as he mumbles something, the sound drowned by the synchronized pounding of your hearts. He does stop at some point, heavy breaths and pinkish lips, looking at you in drunken wonder.

"Oh, God." he groans, taking a step back to properly look at you. Your hands on his when he pulls you in on more time, hiding his face on the croak of your neck. His hands curl around your waist and you draw small circles in his back. "I’ve missed you."

taglist: @thetorturedbuckydepartment @the-ayo-lit @lukepadawan @isnow-0r-never @mrsnikstan

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #angela writes #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #reader insert #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky fluff #kissing bucky barnes

[chronically-ghosted]

i breathe you in (and it changes me)

rating: teen pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader word count: 2K summary: you've been here with him before - rock bottom. But this time, he gives you reason to hope for something new. warnings: alcohol use, mentions of drug use, physical fighting, blood, wounds, bruises, mentions of past toxic behavior a/n: your original ask @bitchwitch1981 got swallowed up by tumblr, so i had to create a new post :( but I wanted to say thank you so much for requesting this - it was more therapeutic to write than i initially thought!

1K ask:

Sweet Taylor, Congratulations on the amazing milestone! 💜 I have decided to go for astrology for The Midnight Seance. I have chosen the prompt “Hold my hand please?” “When you ask so nicely.” and my own darling Dieter Bravo.

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Dieter Bravo Masterlist

The damp heat of the night is made worse by the thick knot of chittering spectators by the back alley of the club. You can hear the fleshy blows, hear the flesh rip and tear the veins, the delighted groan of the crowd after a particularly sickening crunch. White lights of camera flashes flicker, the smell of blood acidic on your tongue, the metallic taste getting stronger the closer you get to the front of the crowd. You see the blur of an arm just as you shove aside a man recording the whole scene with his phone; how much will TMZ pay for even seven seconds of that video?

Across from you, a thick shadow with bloody knuckles paces like a caged tiger, snorting with rage, the spectators jeering and howling their approval. The man, twice as thick as you are, waits at the edge of the fight, his vision locked forward, massive hands itching to rip apart something alive. 

Whatever is left alive of the heap of clothes in front of you.

It shudders, arms and legs curling beneath it, and rolls backwards. The crowd lets out a disgusted groan at the sight of the bloody face. Your heart sinks to the sticky concrete.

Oh, Dieter.

Asphalt digs into your knees as you kneel down next to him, the sounds of the crowd fading as panic swells within you. He doesn’t even register that you’re there until you touch his cheek. One eye completely swollen shut, blood running down from his nose over his upper lip, he meets your gaze and flinches. 

“Sorry,” he slurs – either from his split lip or being drunk out of his mind, you can’t tell, “you look like my ex.” 

“Dieter, it’s me.” 

His collar is torn, blood speckles cover the front of his shirt, and his jeans are filthy. Judging by his own shredded knuckles, he might have actually gotten a few good hits in. Gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning. You put a hand on his shoulder, looking for any other open wounds, for more blood – and he shoves you off.

“Go away. I’m kicking this guy’s ass.” 

Groaning, Dieter staggers to his feet, the blood freely flowing from his nose now. He gets upright and immediately stumbles, hands going to his knees, much to the deformed glee of the crowd. They whoop and laugh and hold their phones higher. 

Even in heels, you’re several inches shorter than him and you intentionally didn’t wear that much clothing – you were going to club with your friends to forget – but you try to shield him from the camera lenses anyway. 

From the back of his throat, Dieter spits out a wad of blood. “Fuck, my head hurts.” The drool that slips from his mouth is pink and frothy.

“Dieter, c’mon, we’re going.” 

You drag his arm over your shoulder, shifting as much of his weight onto you as you can. His entire back and underneath his arm is drenched in what you pray is sweat. Behind you, you know the other man is yelling, shouting, something about teaching that fat mouth a lesson, but you do what you’ve alway done when it comes to Dieter: you put yourself between him and an oncoming car crash. 

Hoping a grown man won’t take a full swing with a woman in kitten heels and a slinky dress nearby, you half-push, half-carry Dieter back towards the way you came in, but you make it two more steps before he pushes you away again, his fingertips drifting down your shoulder. His face is twisted up in agony.

“Fuckin’ stop. I don’t need your help.”

You grab him by the bicep, twisting him to you again, and he stumbles, muttering a gruff sorry. Blood from his nose drips down onto your bare chest. He watches it, transfixed, his emotions crackling from one high to the next low. 

You cup his bruised, swollen jaw and his wet eyes meet yours and for an instant, no one else exists. His bottom lip trembles. 

“Dieter” you murmur, low enough for just him to hear, just enough for him to lean forward, to let himself be captured by you – briefly – just as he always had been. “We’re going home, okay?”

He nods, eyes shut, swaying, and lets himself be dragged away. 

Beyond the black partition, you hear music. Too soft to be distinct, too faint. Yet it sits between your teeth all the same, hums in the back of your jaw. Static noise. 

In your lap, lays Dieter’s head. Your skirt feels damp from where the blood from his nose gathers. It stopped dripping minutes ago but the spot still feels cold, still thick with it. Your hand curls in his hair, loose but weighted. Grounding. He always said this was his favorite spot in the entire world. 

You didn’t tell the driver to go east, towards Sherman Oaks, but the opposite direction, towards the rental property you kept by the beach. Before that, home had always been Sherman Oaks, but . . . in the after, you couldn’t even bear to see the name on the sign. 

Partially it’s practical. Given the swarmed mob, there most likely was another one waiting for him at the gates to his mansion. He doesn’t have his phone, you know, which is most likely a curse and a blessing. When it comes to moments like these, you’ve learned to deal with the problem right in front of you, one at a time. Or rather, the one in your lap. 

You swore you’d never be here again, you swore that you’d learn to unremember what here even feels like, and yet you ran to him all the same. This is not the first time you wonder if leaving him bleeding and drooling into the concrete would have been the right thing to do. 

The car drives you both towards the rental because you want him there. You want him to fill up that empty space in your bed, smear the too messy sink in the bathroom with uncharged electric toothbrushes and toothpaste that tastes like cotton candy, and bring a sense of wonder back into your increasingly dark days. But with all that, comes this. The black partition ahead of you blurs, your eyes grow hot and tight, submissive to the beaks of birds, and the back of your fingers not caught in his hair press harshly to the back of your mouth. You fight a shudder because you know he can’t bear to see you cry. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

His apologies always start like this, a little broken, a little roundabout way of getting to the heart of things. You sniff, your hand slipping to his shoulder and grasping it tight. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, okay, baby?”

“I didn’t want you to see me take pills.”

Your head bumps the back of the seat, as you swallow a sob and a laugh all at once. You squeeze him – no, no, of course not, you never mean it, you never mean any of it — 

“My therapist said they would help. And then they did. But I couldn’t get you back.”

He mutters something, rubbing his face slowly in your lap, like a blind kitten, his big hand over your knees, but you’re too stunned to parse out his babbling. 

“You went to therapy?” 

“Still in it.” He wheezes through a bruised rib. “She’s gonna be so pissed about this.” 

“You’re not high?” 

He shake-rubs his head again, the curls at his forehead catching against the sequins of your top. “Just drunk. I fucking hate being drunk.” 

He babbles some more, the words looped on tangled string, but you sit up, and gently turn his face towards you. The bleeding has stopped, but the swelling has set in. His right eye is black and blue, the skin puffy and tender. There’s a cut across his left cheek and his lip is split down the middle. Fuck, if these don’t heal right, that could be the end of his career. 

Goddamn it – and why would you care about that? It’s not your job to care anymore. 

You reverently trace a finger over his black eye, his cheek, his lips, to the blood on his temple. Tragedy always looked so good on him. 

His hand catches yours. You think his good eye might be filled with tears.

“I tried to get better . . . for you. For us. I took all the right pills, instead of the wrong ones this time, and I thought I was better.” Dieter shifts, so his back is against the seat and he’s looking straight up at you. He holds your hand to his chest, his other rising up to cup your cheek. That single touch cracks your resolve, your rule against letting him affect you, and you cry. He watches the silent tears roll down your cheeks, over his thumb. You think he looks remorseful. “I tried to get better and you moved on without me.”

It only just now occurs to you that he had most likely been inside the club when you had, had probably seen you and never said anything. He watched you dance and drink and try to forget him with other sweaty bodies and he never said a thing.

Bruised anger, the kind that melts off your ribs, flares bright within you and you jerk your face away from his touch.

“You don’t get to blame me for your shit anymore, Dieter.” 

His fingers curl and he swallows, the dried blood around his mouth cracking. “No, baby, I’m not. I’m not. I’m sorry I ever did. I didn’t mean it, I never mean it – never meant to hurt you. But I do, don’t I? I hurt you all the time.” 

Your anger throbs. “Then why? Why, Dieter, would you wait to get help until after I was gone? Didn’t you want to try . . . to salvage something, anything between us?”

His hand drops to his chest. 

“I didn’t want you to see me take pills.”

You suddenly recognize the weight of his head on your lap, the density of his shoulders against your lap, and you, in a cycle of regret and love, want to scream at him. Want to shake him. Instead you brush his sticky curls off his forehead and a single tear escapes the corner of his eye, down his temple. 

“You silly, silly boy.” You sniff, tears freely flowing, and curl a strand of his beautiful hair in your fingers. “I would have been there for you. I’m glad you got help, and I hate that this was a relapse, but I would never have judged you for trying to get better, even if you failed. You were the one who didn't want me to see that side of you, Dieter. I never stopped loving you.”

For a moment, he goes still, the darkness of the night street obscuring his face, blurring him into one dark shadow that wheezed and sighed. You’re about to seek out his hand in the dark, if not his face, not his wounds, when he lets out the most broken noise you’d ever heard come from anyone. 

It’s a noise that will haunt you in nightmares for years to come.

“Oh,” he says. 

The car rolls to a stop, the faint music barely heard over the rush and crash of the waves on the other side of your rental. The radio goes silent and the partition rolls down. 

“We’re here, miss.” 

You wipe your eyes, mascara streaks turning your finger tips black, and cough to clear the knot in your throat that beats in time with your heart. Hands curling under his shoulders, you move to lift him up off your lap.

“C’mon, Dieter, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up–,”

“Wait.” He visibly swallows, nothing else on his face so clear in the dark. You feel a faint drop on your skirt. “I mean, I’ll go but . . . hold my hand – please?” 

Despite yourself, despite him, despite your tear-drenched lips, you lean down and kiss his forehead. Your shared shaky breaths are trapped between your chest and his.  “Only when you ask so nicely.”

+

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fandom

[destielbeatlesminibang]

Title: Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You

Author: tfw_cas

Artist: golby moon

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Dean Winchester has been secretly in love with his college roommate and best friend Cas for years, but he’s convinced Cas doesn’t feel the same.

When he’s offered a teaching position thousands of miles away, he sees it as an opportunity to be closer to his brother... and maybe give himself some distance from his feelings for Cas. After all, it’s not like they can’t still be friends.

But things go badly when Cas finds out, and Dean's not sure their friendship is going to survive. And as for his dreams coming true... Well, those are just lyrics, right?

Tags: Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Idiots In Love, Mild Angst, Everyone Knows Dean and Cas Are In Love Except Dean and Cas Past Dean/Benny, Dean Winchester Can Sing In This Fic, Karaoke, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Posting on June 28

Keep reading for a short excerpt.

“Oh, hi, Principal Mills, this is Dean Winchester. I'm calling to accept your job offer.”

The words stuck in his throat as he suddenly became aware that the door was open, and Cas was standing there with his hand still on the handle. From the look on his face, he’d obviously heard everything Dean had said.

Dean grimaced at his friend, who walked into the room without a word, sat on his bed, and stared at the floor as Dean continued his conversation with Principal Mills. The rest of the conversation was mercifully short, and once the principal had promised to email Dean all the necessary documents, she ended the call.

Dean put the phone down slowly and cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas, um… sorry you found out like that. I promise, I was gonna tell you next. And y'know… California isn't so far away.”

“California?” Cas gasped out in surprise, and yeah… of course he didn’t know that part yet, did he?

Dean really couldn’t be handling the situation any worse, and he mentally facepalmed as he tried to think of something to say to soften the blow. His brain was being super unhelpful though, and Cas spoke again before he could.

“You don’t owe me anything, Dean.” Cas finally looked at Dean and attempted a smile. It was as unconvincing as his words, and for a second Dean wondered if Sam was right about Cas hoping they could move in together… That was until Cas said something which blew that theory out of the water.

“I also applied for a job at the college.” He gestured around himself to indicate their college. “I’m just waiting to hear back from them.”

“They’d be idiots if they offered it to anyone else,” Dean said, as reassuringly as he could manage, despite the sentiment ringing hollowly to his own ears.

Cas got to his feet and headed back over to the door. He turned around before leaving, and Dean could see that his jaw was clenched, and when he spoke his voice sounded emotionless. “Thank you, and congratulations on your new job. I just remembered I promised to help another student with an assignment, so I should go.”

With that Cas rushed out of the room, leaving Dean staring at the door. His heart felt like someone had stuck a knife in it, but at least he could say he knew exactly where he stood with Cas.

#destiel #supernatural #the beatles #destiel beatles minibang

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Felix X Bazaar

240220

And this darling YongBok:

#lee felix #harpers bazaar #stray kids #lee yongbok #skz felix #skz yongbok #our sunshine boy is a vision #FELIX WHAT #he’s so soft i can’t #what’s in your purse honey? #I’ve discovered a new special interest #Upon seeing a pretty boy with a purse #I immediately want to ask what they’re carrying #What’s in your purse Felix? #Lip balm.. perfume.. your favorite book.. a Nintendo switch.. carrots.. yogurt? #Lee YongBok: the sunbeam boy with freckles scattered and a contagious laugh and a voice as deep as the ocean #Thank you YongBok for brightening my days and giving me hope for humanity #Congratulations on your face and your heart #you deserve the world

[rhaenyraslaena]

Duty is the Death of Love Chapter X

Dreams of Summer

Available Here: ao3

“It is not your fault that these men choose to be vile nor do you have the power to put them into their places.”

There exists very little certainty in Eulalia for her ability to soothe over the depths of the guilt that are burrowed deep within Baldwin –merely a teen with the entirety of a kingdom on his shoulders and the threat of a fatal illness that shadows each and every step.

“Two years. Two years and then you are able to take full power.” Her whispers are of gentle reassurance pressing against his skin, her fingers ever lightly pulling through the pale gold of his hair and with particular fondness for the curls that tease the tops of his shoulders.

“It will be much better when we are wed next year.” A mutter of admittance just beneath his breath and his glimmering azure bright eyes fluttering closed with the comfort of the stroking of his hair – a moment none too complicated, with only the two of them widen the gardens . . . But a moment of paradise. “I can wait for the age of my majority. . . But our marriage cannot arrive soon enough.”

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #koh fanfiction #baldwin iv #baldwin iv of jerusalem #baldwin iv x oc #king baldwin iv x oc #king baldwin iv #penned by khadija #fic: duty is the death of love #so i looked at the feedback we got and so we get scenes of sixteen year old baldwin and eulalia !! #congratulations this also tore my heart out to write !! #also because this is the first ever chapter of a fanfic where i reached double digit. chapters i put in more eulalia x baldwin #i just wanna shove them in your face just love them right now #eventually more plot soon? i hope

[dutybcrne]

Diona is extremely touch averse, but once she gets comfortable, she will get clingy. And she will get a little moody if she's not able to be.

#hc; diona #//She loves Draff dearly; but it's been AGES since she could really hug him without the reek of booze repulsing her #//And those others she's okay with it are very few and in between #//Prior to Traveler; they were (least to most comfortable): Kae (when not drinking); Lisa (not drinking); Margaret (not drinking) & Klee #//Traveler did worm their way right into her heart tho; she likes them loads. Them and Sucrose #//Shuyun; she doesn’t know how to feel about. It deffo varies; but she likes him for the most part. Not enough for hugs tho #//but yeah. ANYWHO; once she DOES find someone Worthy and there's an open shot to hug them? #//It's like when you hug your cat after awhile apart and they dig their little claws in so you can't pull 'em away #//She does that a LOT. Just Won’t let go until she has her fill. Or they make her so do #//If she's unable to hug them; at or or to how much she wants to; she WILL be temperamental and fussy #//Though certain workarounds do help #//Like being wrapped up in something with their smell; it's close enough to a hug #//Minus the body heat and soothing pressure #//She also really REALLY loves rubbing faces. Quickly in that; and even without a hug; she'll be a little satisfied #//Is her preferred greeting with those Special People. She also love love LOVES little head bunts #//And WILL do so seemingly unprompted to folks especially dear to her #//So if she seemingly headbutts you out of nowhere? Congratulations! You are (one of) her favorite person! #//She really craves affection So Much. but is VERY selective form who; & those WHO gotta know she WILL get attached #//Literally. And she WILL NOT let go #//Pls be gentle with her; she really does mean the best

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #toji smut #gojo x you #smut

[kalisbaby]

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

#free palestine #poetry #samer abu hawwash #huda fakhreddine

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

#osaemu #streamer!gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

#tw ptsd #tw mention of violence #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #141 x reader #cod 141 #john price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader #cod mw x reader #mw x reader

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

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