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verstappen-cult · 2 months

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HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 05. THE END

PREV. PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like!

INSTAGRAM STORIES

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 567,954 others

yourusername 🥂🌅🍋⛱️

view all 8,763 comments

user48 she's so hot i don't know if i wanna be her

zendaya prettiest girl in the world.

user49 is she with charles??

user50 her life doesn't revolve around charles.

user51 im pretty sure she's with charles.

user52 i actually saw a picture going around tw of her and charles like a day ago? so maybe they're spending summer break together user53 a fan ran into charles today in monaco so i don't think they're tgt

francisa.cgomes whoever told you to buy that bikini has excellent taste

yourusername i might kiss that person pierregasly HEY! that's my girlfriend you know. yourusername she wants ME

user54 what is charles doing in the likes

user55 yk sometime people like other people posts. user56 and they're dating so it's pretty normal user54 some people still act surprised lol

alex_albon you look pretty good (i was forced to comment) ((i'm held at gunpoint))

user57 she could be a model

user58 but she chose to follow charles like a dog user59 what is wrong with you people? you hate her just because she's dating your favorite driver. pathetic. user60 and she IS a model btw

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Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 768,998 others

oscarpiastri We had to leave the others behind. Sacrificies were made.

tagged: danielricciardo, yourusername.

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landonorris WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME?

user61 wait. are they spending summer break together?

user62 girl have you been living under a rock? everyone's spending summer break with everyone. go check twitter.

lilymhe bring me ice cream :(

user63 im having a panic attack

user64 i may never recover

user65 THE 813 WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

charles_leclerc where did you take my girlfriend?

danielricciardo pay us or you'll never see her again. oscarpiastri We'll throw her into the ocean. yourusername WHAT THE F

user66 OMG MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING

georgerussell63 We're going to leave without you.

carmenmundt No, we are not. georgerussell63 Yes, ma'am 🫡

user67 I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE ALL TGT I'M GOING TO CRY

user68 no one was ready for this

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Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 9,872 others

charles_leclerc 🌊🗺️🤚🥥

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yourusername who's that handsome boy. 👀

user69 summer break is looking good

user70 screaming crying throwing up i can't do this anymore

maxverstappen1 No pic credits? I put my life in danger for you.

user71 Y/N'S COMMENT OMG

user72 my parents

user73 i want him so bad

user74 i need them to confirm their relationship

user75 i mean it's confirmed they're dating, charles called her his gf in oscar's most recent post user76 WHAT user75 idk why people need them to 'confirm' they just don't want to user76 she's been receiving sm hate online i understand if they wanna keep it a little more private

user78 STAY CALM EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user79 one chance thats all i ask

arthur_leclerc thanks for (not) inviting me

charles_leclerc adults only 🤪 pierregasly i told him to invite you charles_leclerc no you didn't stfu

user80 I FEEL BLESSED

TWITTER

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Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 9,872 others

charles_leclerc As Taylor Swift once said... love you to the moon and to saturn.

tagged: yourusername.

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user81 I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ITS TOO EARLY

user82 i'm sleeping on the highway tonight

yourusername as taylor swift once said... you are the best thing that's ever been mine. 🖤

charles_leclerc should we kiss now? yourusername i see you making eyes at me from across the room. landonorris there are children on this app

alex_albon fucking finally!

yourusername stfu

user83 MY PARENTS

pierregasly you can finally stop whining. 🙄

user84 THIS IS TOO CUTE

user85 oh my god they finally confirmed it

maxverstappen1 It was all thanks to me, you're welcome.

alex_albon it was thanks to me?? what are you on about maxverstappen1 If I hadn't threaten to punch him, he wouldn't have made things right. alex_albon I introduced them! yourusername no you didn't, you abandoned me and that's how i met charlie. alex_albon SEE?! THANKS TO ME

user86 con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 lations 😭

oscarpiastri Can you adopt me now?

olliebearman get in line landonorris i'm their first born child gtfo

georgerussell63 So happy for you! Can you get out of the room now, we want to eat.

danielricciardo they aren't getting out of that room😏

user87 AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT'S LYRICS

user88 when is it my turn????

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @miakat9. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @thatoneembarrasingmoment. @lyrasconstellation. @rhythmstars. @c-losur3. @apolloxxivmin. @janeholt3. @lovrsm. @gulphulp. @thecubanator2. @dark-night-sky-99. @ssprayberrythings.

note: oh my god, i'm so sorry it took me this long to finish this but here you have the final chapter. i'm not good with series but i did my best. hope you liked it!🤍

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 smau

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boydepartment · 4 months

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so cute - anton lee x reader

a/n: DONT LOOK AT ME RN…. okay i’m having a moment shut up i can’t sleep. this is completely self indulgent and writing for fun so whooooooops

warnings- none just fluff and goofy. idol! anton. photography major! reader. (i am not a photography major so pls um bare w me) THIS IS ALSO REALLY CLICHE SO I AM SORRY i also have no idea what tags to use :( so if you are on riize tumblr PLS HELP ME IN MY INBOX WITH TAGS

wc- 250-300

MASTERLIST

when you sat down after you ordered you got all your stuff organized. you had a plan to meet your friend to study together at a small but sweet boba shop. a lot of college students would come and go and half the fun of studying was procrastinating and choosing to people watch instead.

your friend was late and so you were left to fend for yourself. which was okay, it didn’t bother you. you got a little lost in thought and didn’t even notice the gaggle of boys walk in.

you didn’t even notice when the second cashier called up your order and you skipped over to pick it up. it tasted sweet and made you smile.

the way you set up your table looked really nice so you took a couple steps away from your chair to take a photo, not for class. just for fun.

your notes and laptop looked like those aesthetic posts on pinterest and the view outside the window was not the worst for a parking lot. you looked down at your phone and frowned, maybe the flash would help?

you went to get in position again when a guy totally bumped into you. sending both of you crashing onto the floor!

when you sat up you saw all his friends almost sprint out of the shop laughing, you looked down, eyes widening.

“i’m so sorry! here let me help you up!” you stood up and put your hands out. he was quiet and took your hands. you bent over and picked up his thankful pre-poked boba, nothing spilled thank goodness!

“are you okay?” you asked, handing his drink to him. it was a little hard to tell or read him as he was wearing a mask, there was only so much you could read with his eyes.

your head turned to the side trying to get an answer out of him. eventually he snapped out of whatever daze he was in. did this boy hit his head too hard?

“it was my fault! i was walking backwards while talking and i didn’t see you i’m sorry…” the boy was very soft spoken and it took you by surprise. a lot of people you met in college were a little outspoken.

you smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood, “it’s okay it was an accident!”

“you fell pretty hard on your knees, are you okay?” he asked, noticing that they looked pretty scuffed.

“oh! i’m okay. don’t worry about it.” you went to grab your bag which softened the blow of your fall.

“is your phone okay? if it’s broken i can help pay for the damages…”

that was sweet of him…

you looked at your phone and saw the crack in the screen protector, “it’s a little cracked but it’s just the screen protector! it’s fine! if anyone asks i can tell them about this.” you laughed a little and looked at him again, “my friend’s gonna wish she wasn’t late…!”

you heard the boy laugh a little, “i still feel bad for tripping over you and ruining your photo, can i do anything to make up for it?”

“there’s no need to feel bad!” you said quickly- waving you hands back and forth, “again it’s totally okay. you should probably get back to your friends though… they kinda ran off.”

you saw him look outside the window, scoffing a little, “i’m going to choose to ignore them.”

this made you laugh, it was a total 180 from his voice, it was cute.

“i’m y/n. i figure since we’re having a conversation it’s appropriate to introduce myself, since you’re not just falling over me and dipping.” you stuck your hand out again.

he looked at your hand and shook it, “anton.” his eyes curved which told you he was smiling. cute.

“um… your friend still isn’t here… can i sit with you?”

you nodded, might as well, it wasn’t like you were studying. he happily took a seat next to you.

“you’re in college right?”

you nodded, “mhm! photography major!” you opened a file and scooted your laptop to him. anton looked through your photos almost amazed.

“i’m trying to put together my portfolio right now actually. i’m hoping i’ll get a job soon.” you explained, leaning your head on your palm.

he practically perked up at this, “my friends and i need a photographer for our next show!”

“show?”

“ummmmmmmmmm.” anton scratched his neck, “yes. show. music. yaknow….”

you smiled, “honestly, if it pays well, i’d love to.”

he looked at you and nodded, really enthusiastically. you felt pride bubble in you for someone being so impressed by your work to offer you a job.

“can i get your number to get the details?” you asked, unlocking your phone, he was cute and even if the job didn’t work out, maybe a date would. you could hear his phone buzzing rapidly.

anton nodded again and put his information in, “text me your name n stuff and i’ll answer i promise.” he stood up, “i really need to get back to my friends they’re blowing up my phone… even though they ditched me…”

you laughed again, “no problem. i’ll text you!”

“yeah!” he was walking away from you smiling when he ran into the door awkwardly. almost like the scene of a movie. it was so cute.

he was so cute.

#kpop #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize anton #riize fluff #riize comfort #anton lee #anton x reader #anton fluff #anton lee fluff #lee chanyoung #lee chanyoung imagines #lee chanyoung x reader #riize wonbin #riize sohee #riize seunghan

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midnight-moonlite-melancholy · 8 months

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This is an add on to this post about the virgin OM! boys. This one is for Beel but I'll probably be posting one of these for Levi within the next few days. I tried to make this gender neutral so I hope I did a good job. There might be some editing mistakes cuz I'm sleep deprived. Plz enjoy ♡

Nsfw - This piece includes: Mentions of oral sex (reader receiving) , size difference, unprotected sex, and mentions of fingering. (I'm bad at tagging so please lmk if I missed anything. Banner by: @/cafekitsune)

Once the clothes are off Beel can't help his urges. You have all of this sweet syrup leaking from you. He can smell it. Could he just have a taste? Just a little one? If there's one thing he knows how to do, it's eat. He'll just do what he does best. He promises to try and make it feel good. He'll hesitate at first, gently nibbling on the insides of your thighs. Your scent is so intense, luring him in for a little taste.

You can see how conflicted he is as he stares at your sex - drooling. He wants to taste you so badly but at the same time he wants to be respetful. He doesn't want you to be pressured into anything. It's not until you gently grasp a section of his hair and guide him closer that he finally gives in. But you have to promise you'll tell him if it doesn't feel good. Tell him what doesn't work so he can do better. He would hate it if he was the only one enjoying themself.

He'll start off slowly at first, tasting your sweet nectar and experimenting with soft suckles and little kitten licks. Those little sounds you make are a good sign, right? But when you close your thighs around his head he can't hold back anymore.

When it comes time to put his cock in... Can he really do this? This feels like some form of bullying. As he looks at your smaller form beneath him and his cock lined up, just screaming to be inside you, he realizes how massive he actually is. Your body seems too small and delicate to take him. You almost took his fingers off just a few minutes earlier with how tight you were.

He'll be gentle and try to fit it in though. Just the tip. You seem to want it so badly, so he'll give you what your gorgeous body has been asking for. He'll push in the tip slowly, but when he hears your little gasp, he'll pull out completely and ask if you're okay. He didn't hurt you, right? He thinks maybe he should wait a little longer, make you cum a few more times before he tries it again. But when you look at him and plead like that... He's lining himself up again and pushing into you without thinking.

He seems to be in a daze until he fills you to the brim. The noise you make as he bottoms out brings him back to reality, if only for a moment. He asks if you're okay and waits for your answer. He didn't hurt you, right? But he can hardly focus on what you're saying when you feel this good wrapped around him. Sure, he had jacked off a few times thinking about you but he never dreamed you would feel this good.

Again, without even thinking, he'll begin to slowly rock his hips back and forth as he breathlessly compliments how good you feel. He'll come back to reality again to ask you if it feels good for you too. Is there anything he could do to make it feel even better? He wants you to enjoy youself as much as he is. As he drowns in your warmth he'll start to pick up the pace, apologizing through groans for being so rough.

He'll pull your legs over his shoulders, a move he learned from some porno he saw when he walked in on Mammon, to keep you from sliding across the bed with the force of his thrusts. As he gets closer to his release he will lean down to kiss you hungrily. He'll break the kiss as he cums, reluctantly pulling out of you completely and spilling his sticky seed all over your tummy.

He'll hover above you with his hands on either side of your head, admiring your pretty cumface before he'll try to stand. It takes him a moment to steady himself before he can pick you up and carry you to the bathroom to get cleaned up, praying to Diavolo that none of his brothers see you two.

#this turned out longer than i expected #it was supposed to be short and sweet but 🤷🏽‍♀️#obey me beelzebub #beel smut #obmswd #obey me smut #beelzebub smut #obey me beel #obey me

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hamcakevaletguy · 23 days

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My thoughts on the Damien situation, from the POV of someone who’s relatively uninvolved with posting on social media:

As a newer fan of Smosh myself (I watched some videos in 2012, but haven’t really kept up since, and only started regularly watching the last year or so), I went through the backlog of content that they have because I enjoyed their more recent videos. Zayna, a newer Palestinian fan, did the same and found this joke in an old TNTL disappointing and wanted him to address it firsthand and make his stance clear.

For anyone saying Damien has already made it clear that he is in support of Palestine: it’s not a given that the fan who brought up the clip would have already known about Damien’s stance on Palestine. Yes, he’s talked about it in a couple of his streams and posted Insta stories about it, but a newer fan of Smosh, not necessarily Damien himself, wouldn’t know about those unless they were looking for it because they are:

temporary (IG stories only have a lifespan of 24 hours unless you take screenshots) or

a few minutes hidden under several hours of game streams on a separate platform (he talked about Palestine several months ago and has streamed a lot since, unless you know the specific Twitch stream and the timestamp when he talked about it or had clips of it, most casual fans wouldn’t know either)

In his defense, Damien himself has recently said that more fandom stuff has reached his timeline than he would like, so maybe he thinks more people know about his activism because of that. However, even if Zayna did know, wanting a straightforward statement apologizing for the insensitive joke (because bringing up the "Israeli-Palestinian conflict" [as it was called back in 2019, not accurate to what has been going on for 70+ years and counting, which is an ethnic cleansing] for shock value, as he himself said, is insensitive) is not an unreasonable request.

More under the cut

When all you have is 240 characters per reply, the things that you do choose to say matter even more. When you parse out everything in Damien's replies, he doesn't come out looking too good. Yes, he did apologize for the original joke. In his replies, he said:

using it as shock value was in poor taste and naive of him,

it was in poor taste back in 2019 and he wouldn't make it now

(in response to his first couple of replies) he is sorry for reacting in frustration and he'll learn from it,

and, in his final reply, his parting words were "With all my heart, I hope for safety for your loved ones. Be well."

However, he also says and does things that undermine his apology in the same replies:

questioning why the clip was brought up in the first place, as if bringing up old content wasn't something fans regularly do with things they're interested about and as if it's not still a public video fans can easily find,

bringing up that the fan in question had 19K followers, a fraction of the followers he has as a public figure,

saying that this conversation could have been done in private, as if an initial DM request wouldn't be buried in his other requests as a public figure, and as if he doesn't have the capability to start a DM himself to clarify things after the initial reply/post,

saying that the original tweets tagging him should have been deleted after his first response when he never asked for that, and just assumed it would happen for some reason,

deleting his replies a couple of hours later,

and blocking Zayna and several others who were only interacting with Damien through quote tweets (I'm not sure how quote tweets work, do they notify the OP?), some who don't even say anything remotely critical of him - in his defense, blocking is not inherently a bad thing, it just means that he doesn't want any further interactions from them for whatever reason. However, silencing any Palestinian voice isn't good, to say the least.

Damien has always been a proponent of “trying to understand and see from different perspectives” so his response here surprised me, personally. I get that he has a fear of being misunderstood, but jumping to the conclusion that the other party is purposefully trying to be incendiary is the opposite of that.

I'm not going to try to make excuses for him. He knows better. He's been a content creator for years. He knows he has more influence than any normal fan would. His autism is not a part of this conversation either. Mental illness is an explanation for behavior, it doesn't absolve you of the consequences of it. If you're citing Damien's autism as an excuse for his behavior, you have to also account for Zayna's autism.

People are also bringing up the possibility of Damien getting death threats as a result of this, which we have no proof of and won't have proof of unless Damien himself decides to disclose that. He has only stated that he is taking a social media break, which has been a long time coming, not necessarily only because of this, because he has been busy and tired in recent months. What we do know has happened is that Zayna has received death threats (weird of people to want the death of a Palestinian when the original argument they're defending Damien for is that he is in support of Palestinian liberation).

This isn’t an issue of cancel culture, it’s an issue of accountability and frankly, hero worship of Damien in the part of people attacking Zayna and other people on Twitter.

When the only people who had spoken about their support of Palestine in their own words, however briefly, are two or three cast members, some people are naturally going to put them on pedestals. This hero worship of Damien has been exacerbated by his image as the most politically correct member of Smosh, and Smosh’s (until recently) silence about the issue.

While we're at it, for people saying Smosh's sudden outward support for Palestine and joining Creators for Palestine is in response to backlash about Damien, or only in response to the block list going around:

It's only been a few days since the Damien's whole ordeal. Smosh is not that fast, and historically, their response to backlash would have been either complete radio silence or unlisting or privating the TNTL that the clip is from, combined with silence.

I’m sure Shayne, Ian and Courtney have been working on it for more than a few days, based on their liked posts, to get everything straightened out with the organization themselves and adding their names to the list of creators.

People have been asking for Smosh to be more public about their views on Palestine. Some of the cast members have said their piece on their personal social media, but their views could have changed. Those posts were made shortly after the events of October 7 brought even more media attention on Palestine and the Gaza Strip, which was not necessarily in favor of Palestine because of the effects of U.S. propaganda. It's been several months since then and people have a lot more information now, and more clarity.

Up until now, the only indication of Palestinian support not from social media is a brief statement from Ian who said something along the lines of "travel watermelon", while they were talking about their rejected roasts during Anthony's Funeral After Show in December, which are codewords that were used in TikTok for Free Palestine. However, this is heavily censored, behind a paywall, and temporary, because of the nature of their live shows. This support of CFP is the bare minimum of what Smosh could do, but the bare minimum is more than they were doing before.

They listed Smosh as the name under their $15,000 donation to CFP, not just Shayne, Courtney and Ian, which could be intentional, referring to Smosh as a whole company, or just referring to the three that have posted about it as a collective. Unless Smosh makes a full statement about it, themselves, it's still up in the air.

The timing of it is unfortunate. Damien has been silent about it so far, making his original posts about Palestine seem performative to some. However, it’s only been a few hours and he is on a social media break. The only thing he has briefly gone back online for is to promote something he's doing with Nintendo, which he could have been contractually obligated to do. He may or may not say something when he fully comes back from his social media break, but for now, that's everything we know. People can make their own conclusions based on all of this.

I am being very intentional with every single word I say on here, as to not be misconstrued in any way, however, if I missed anything or anyone else has anything to add (constructively, like images of either the actual conversation had by Damien and Zayna, or the cast and crew's support of Palestine prior to CFP, not outright anger and disagreement), please do. If anyone has any genuine questions about the situation, please feel free to message me directly and not bring it into this post, which is supposed to be a civil discussion surrounding more facts and events, less speculation. If I feel those questions have relevant points to add on here, I will add on in reblogs.

#damien haas #free palestine #smosh discourse #smosh

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Muddled Waters 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You skewer candied cherries on a long toothpick and balance them over a martini glass. The deep blue drink with a layer of foam is perfectly aligned with the crystal brim. You stand straight as you top off the last of the drinks, a new batch for the waiting customers.

You put the small silver measuring cup aside and nearly cry out as the silhouette hovering in the corner of your vision moves. You touch your chest in surprise as you face Nick with a bashful smile. You didn’t even know he was around that day. Lately, he’s been absent more than not.

“Oh, hi,” you laugh at yourself, “I didn’t hear you...”

“I have a bad habit of that,” he grins, “some have compared me to a cat.”

You tilt your head, “some? You mean, me?”

He shrugs, “was that you?

“Maybe,” you turn and carefully move the stemmed glasses to a tray.

“New flavour?” He nears and stands close. You can smell his cedar cologne.

“Blueberry,” you explain, “bit sweet for my tastes but it fits the season.”

“Ah, sounds interesting,” he reaches and takes one of the glasses and you gasp.

“Nick!” You turn to him and he grins as he sips, the foam clinging to his top lip. He hums as he removes the toothpick from across the rim and nibbles off one of the cherries.

“Tasty,” he commends.

“Why-- Now I’ll to make another.”

“They can wait. It’s more than worth it,” he assures, still standing close as he slurps.

You work in the warmth of his looming proximity. He’s never had much of a personal bubble. Working behind a bar, you’ve grown used to being crowded. You measure and pour and muddle. You garnish and set the drink to replace the one your boss took.

“Right, ready,” you declare.

“Here, let me get those,” he slides the tray across the counter before you can react.

“No, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. Boss man’s gotta do some work around here,” he scoffs and lifts the tray. “You take a load off, sweetheart, I need those hands well-rested. No one else has that magic touch.”

You tisk and shake your head. He can be ridiculous. You won’t complain, he’s the least uptight boss you’ve had. The place isn’t too bad. Upscale with well-tipping patronage. It’s not your typical bar. Most of your work is done behind a wall as the customers drink in private rooms or in the common room where refined jazz wafts through the dim air. The whole place drips of exclusivity.

You clean up and wipe the counter before you wash your hands. Another order appears on the screen. Customers order on a sleek touchscreen, unbothered by servers amid their hushed conversations. You assume they are the types with private jets and luxurious yachts. Of course, they’re too special to drink like normal people.

You start up the next order. Spiced apple cider. A classic though it’s not often ordered. Two to put up. You mix the drinks in mason jars with thick handles. You finish them each with a cinnamon stick.

“Ready to go?” Nick has you squeaking again.

“God,” you throw your hands up and laugh, “how do you keep doing that?”

“Hey, not my fault. You’re in the zone. You know, you get all squinty,” he makes a face, “it’s like the whole world doesn’t exist. Makes me feel a bit small.”

“Mm, well, I guess you’re right. I should pay more attention to my surroundings,” you lift the mugs, “I got these, Nick.”

“It’s no problem, one of my buddies,” he wraps his hands around the jars, “been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, okay then,” you let him take the cups.

“Take it easy. You do too much.”

You smile tightly and lean on the counter. He goes and you turn around to tidy again. You can be precise. You like a clean station. You’ve worked with too many people who leave the bartop littered in lime peel and broken toothpicks. You can’t make a good drink if you’re working in filth.

But it isn’t just your work. You try not to let the personal seep in but you can’t help who you are. Things should be just so. Books should be lined up and sorted alphabetically and the dishes should be stacked neatly, and the carpet can’t be crooked.

You exhale and run your hands over your apron. Most people might envy your boss for his high company and exorbitant wealth, you just covet his coolness. He’s never bothered by much.

“Sweetheart,” he enters, this time with fair warning. You look up at his pet name. He always calls you that. “What’s that chocolate one you did last time?” He snaps his fingers, “you know, it was kinda creamy--”

“Brandy Alexander,” you answer, “yeah, uh, we’re out of dark creme de cacao. I put it on the inventory.”

“Inventory,” he nods and his blue eyes flick away guiltily, “yeah, I was supposed to do that.”

You cross your arms, “yeah, you were.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I swear, I thought of it,” he crinkles his nose, “but it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Mhmm,” you sniff, “well, you have been busy. I didn’t even know you were in town.”

He looks up and his cheek dimples. His gaze falls back on you, “lots of running around. Sorry, sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d be right here, tasting all your delights.”

You nearly snort but instead just furrow your brow.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you shrug and turn away, the screen showing another order. “Sometimes... the way you say things...”

He chuckles and leans his elbow on the counter, “I do like to choke on my own foot.”

“You know, I said before, I could make time for inventory. I don’t mind making orders--”

“Don’t bother,” he cuts your offer short, “I know people. I can take care of it. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He stays as he is, angled against the counter as he watches you. He rests his chin on his knuckles and you glance over as you squeeze a lime dry.

“What?” You ask as you measure out the juice.

“How’d you learn to do all this?” He asks.

“I took a few courses, worked a few dives,” you say, “did a gig on a cruise ship. You know, you figure it out.”

“And you enjoy it?” He says, “I mean, I can tell you do.”

“It keeps my hands moving and my head from racing,” you explain as you mix the drink in a shaker.

“Sounds amazing,” he stands straight, “sooner or later, I need to find something to keep me busy. Something that doesn’t make me crazy.”

You garnish and he swipes up the glass before you can stop him.

“Well, you might just have a calling as a waiter,” you say sarcastically as you wipe your hands on a towel.

“I don’t know about that,” he grins, “I’m not much for taking orders.”

#nick fowler #the 355 #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #drabbles #series #au #sweet and spicy #muddled waters

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cerezzzita · 10 months

Text

🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ Sugarcoating ✦ 3Dante x Fem!Reader

⌕ summary: Dante purposes that you two should kiss, and is not a big deal. After all, friends does this, too.

notes: to start the month with some goodies, let's have some smoochies! (Jesus Christ, why am I like that) hello y'all, how's it going? so, yeah, was feeling in the mood for writing a kiss/making-out scene and, well, no one better than Dante, right? right! in advance, I apologize because I tend to suck at kiss scenes and so so sooo sorry for the end being sorta turn-off. really, i was just excited to post it already after the feedback I had with the sneak peak. anyways, enjoy the reading!

♡ word count: 970

♡ tags: fem!reader, no use of pronouns (you/yours only), no description of reader's appearance, use of pet names, kissing, making-out, slightly suggestive but nothing explicit (it got hottie hottie at some point, i think), Dante tastes as strawberry and vanilla because I said so, 3Dante my beloved bf and mentions of friends with benefits.

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

"What if we kissed?"

Your irises, focused before on the vast pages of the magazine, took an interested route to the owner of the question. Usually sitting with his feet up on the shop's wooden table, Dante's heavenly eyes gazed at you, curiously, brow arched and a wolfish grin summoned to his lips.

"What?" Your voice had come up with a high pitch.

"You heard me, angelcake," now the jovial Devil Hunter propped his chin on one hand, blinking both eyes with a certain air of grace. "You're a babe, I'm a hot stuff; I only see the pros." Dante shrugged as he finished his sentence.

Your reply was a short, airy laugh. Closing the random magazine in your hands, you adjusted your body on the sofa that was in front of Dante's desk, with your legs duly intertwined and, smiling a little, imitated the chin placed in the palm.

"Until yesterday, we were just friends considering — in your words — your bad luck with the ladies."

"Bingo," he snapped his fingers, not avoiding his turn to chuckle, "However, you are one of the few ladies to have ever shot me in the forehead."

"Really? Because the way you piss me off sometimes…"

"Ouch, baby, it's part of my charm. Anyway, what if we really kissed?" This time, Dante's inquiry came with an edge of seriousness, and you engaged in debate with your train of thought and the stations through which it passed.

Okay, Dante was eye candy without a doubt. Dangerously attractive and even if inconvenient in certain situations, you had to admit that he had an undeniable charisma and a generous heart.

Maybe he was also nice to kiss.

So why not?

It wasn't like the friendship between the two of you was going to end or wither because of a mere silly kiss…

You cleared your throat and rose from the sofa, tracing steps towards Dante, who was now smirking like he was the Cheshire Cat incarnate. Gone was all shyness and hesitation from the moment you walked around the table and placed yourself on the Devil Hunter's lap and wrapped your arms around his firm neck; cheeky, he let out a low chuckle of contentment.

"Is that a yes?" Dante's hands snaked stealthily up to grip your waist, an act that sent a rush of heat and shivers through you, and he felt it all too well, so much that his fingers began to caress your skin.

"Let's see if it is," determined, you calmly moved your face closer to Dante's until you felt the subtle brush of the tips of your noses and the warm breath against yours.

Quietly, you initiate the kiss. Sparda's handsome son made a sound akin to a pleasurable growl, moving his hands to your back and then lowering them to your thighs. You sighed. Until then, the movement of your lips had been carried out slowly and without much haste.

As if it were the beginning of a tasting.

Your fingers unconsciously tangled in the pale silk strands that were Dante's hair, he seemed to enjoy the touch. His lips were like velvet, a certain strawberry and vanilla flavor that when fused with the soft texture of his mouth, made you want more.

Dante, with some efficiency, had taken a slow nibble on your lower lip. The sensation was beneficial enough that your mouth opened, accompanied by a low, surprised moan, and then his smooth tongue darted in and involved with yours. Once a simple kiss, now it became hungry and voluptuous.

The half-demon greedily squeezed your thighs, grinning as another groan came from you; Dante stiffened and shivered as the scrape of your nail tips traveled down the back of his neck. He groaned too and then led the grips down to your ass, having the audacity to even give it a silent pat there.

You gasped from the lack of air and Dante's fiery acts that made your insides crackle like you were on fire. As you gasped, your mouths peeled off.

"Dante…" your bashful sigh brought another grunt of delight from the young Devil Hunter who was now finding refuge for his fervent mouth on the skin of your neck, gifting the curve with soft nips and lazy licks. "D-Dante…"

"Aw, baby…" you heard him suck in air through his teeth before giving you another lick, Dante was so caught up in the moment as you were that he started babbling disjointedly, "... Just like I imagined, you're sweet as hell, just the way I imagined it... So sweet, so delicious..."

His voice, husky and sly, made your muscles quiver and instinctively your thighs clenched together. Dante looked up and saw your irises hidden by your lashes and your head tilted back with brows positively twitching. He laughed, his eyes now blue like hellish flames and luscious.

You looked at him with half-closed eyelids and silently, flattening your hands on Dante's firm, strong chest. Much to your glee, he gave you a satisfied 'ooh'.

"Dante…"

"Yeah?"

Again, you sighed, more calmly than a few minutes ago.

"I…" you bit your lip, feeling abruptly self-conscious at the way Dante's ice blue colored orbs roamed over your figure. Worth mentioning, the young son of Sparda's hands were still placed on your ass. "Hm…"

"Lost your tongue all of a sudden, angel?"

"Hm, maybe she's still tangled up in yours," you shrugged, putting on a petit smile.

"Naughty," Dante chuckled, "Want to see if she's really tangled up in mine?"

"Now that you mention it, I do."

On this specific time, it was the half-demon who had kissed you passionately, with you again moaning in delight as you savoured his sweet tongue inside your mouth. You both smiled over each other's lips.

If your friendship continued sugarcoated like that, so be it.

#devil may cry #devil may cry headcanons #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry 3 #dante #dmc dante #dante sparda #dante x reader #reader insert #x reader #dante sparda x reader #dmc dante x reader #dante x you #fem reader #female reader #dante x female reader #devil may cry dante x reader

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dizzy-after-dark · 5 months

Text

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over.

Baby I—

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet.

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same.

She should just throw it out.

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well.

She’s already made too many ghosts.

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though.

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right?

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more.

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really.

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet.

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine.

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for.

That’s still Steve— her Steve.

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days.

Her silence is deafening.

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.”

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell.

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him.

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war.

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them.

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something?

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore.

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.”

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad?

Is it anger?

Or is it something much more primal.

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him.

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.”

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do.

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers.

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry.

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts.

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze.

She’s caught— he gets it now.

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?”

She only blinks at him. Once… twice…

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter.

Come on, Steve.

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that?

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out.

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first?

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate.

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy?

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.”

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense.

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing?

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun?

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—” she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.”

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one—

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening.

He’s relentless.

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat.

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels.

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?”

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.”

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—”

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.”

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it.

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.”

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks.

Oh.

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long.

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him.

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy.

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain.

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more.

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately.

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”

And she does.

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it.

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be.

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit.

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless.

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

“—Stevie!”

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much.

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles.

“Of course.”

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there.

Cauterized, or something like it.

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

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chuuyasheaven · 11 months

Note

Day 8 with Tecchou and afab reader maybe? 😳

“—As you recall, you know I love to show off..” — Flashing lights by Kanye West !!

Tags: Tetchou Suehiro / afab! Reader, original! au, dom!Tetchou, sub!Reader, foreplay (eatin’ out), passionate but rough sex, overstim, praising kink, pet names, might contain grammar errors, ooc!, lazy, etc.

Notes: I’ve never written for Tetchou before, but GOOD LORD IS HE FINE. MIGHT BE A LITTLE PROJECTED ON ME BUT OTHERWISE ENJOY!!

Man, you have no idea how lucky you are..

I mean, you’re having a relationship with THE Tetchou Suehiro, one of the strongest hunting dogs. But from his view, he was the lucky one. You were way too perfect for him. And of course, he’ll make sure you know how much he loves you.

It was pretty easy actually, as a hunting dog you probably make an hell amount of money, and Tetchou’s not afraid to spoil you with it. Even without it, he will kiss you, hug you and show lots of affection towards you! As if he was showing you off to everyone.

Not to mention, there’s other ways he can make you ‘feel good’..

“Fuck, right t-there, Tetchou!..”, you choked as you felt his tongue drag over your folds, getting to taste your ‘desperation’.

“Here?”, Tetchou asked you after he licked that spot again, you just nodded. He smirked and went down on you again, and you kept on playing his favorite tune, your moans and whimpers.

Tetchou was leaving time for you and your pleasure, wanting you to know that he worships any body part of yours. As his tongue was doing wonders to your cunt, you could manifest your orgasm coming through soon. And you were right, it came crushing to you, it was quite intense.

After coming back to your senses, Tetchou got up from his knees, licking your slick and cum off his lips and chin.

While doing this he wore a small smile on his face while holding eye contact with you, this just turned you on even more than it should.

“—Oh? Seems like you got wet again, princess. We can’t leave you like that, now can we?”, Tetchou noticed as he walked towards you while removing his belt and freeing his hard cock.

Finally, as you felt his dick at your pussy, you nearly felt like cumming again. But when he pushed it inside you, the pleasure fell beyond you, a loud moan was heard from you while Tetchou let out a pleasured grunt.

When he started to thrust inside you, you went into heaven, his cock filled you up so nice!

It hit all the right spots, and your cunt hugged him so nicely! He was starting to get impatient anyway, so he got a little rougher than usual.

“Such a good girl f’me, aren’t you, baby? F-fuck I needed you so fuckin’ bad, o-oh god—”, Tetchou cursed under his breath, getting even more focused on both of your releases.

He started to get a little more passionate with you, giving you kisses and whispered sweet nothing to you. “Are you close, my love?,”, he asked you.

“S-shit, ‘Hiro! Y-yes, fuck me faster!!”, you nearly shouted, being quite at peace with this response, he picked up your request.

First he placed one leg of yours next to his waist, holding it with a death grip, pounding into you faster to chase both of your orgasms.

Soon you got louder and your knot snapped, your pussy hugged his cock even tighter, which brought Tetchou’s own knot to snap.

Squeezing your eyes shut, Tetchou watched some of his cum leak out. “S-shouldn’t you pull out, ‘Hiro?”, you asked him.

“—Why should I? It’d be an waste to leave all of my cum leak out of you, wouldn’t it, darling?”

GOOD LORDY.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I might need to pause this event because I’m traveling with my family! So I’ll be able to post like 2-3 fics before I go! Sorry that it came so sudden, but I promise I’ll be very productive after!! Until then, bye pookies!!

#tetchou smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bsd tetchou #tetchou suehiro #tetchou x reader

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rizatouchesthewalls · 9 months

Text

everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character” 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

#astv x reader #miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles x you #aged up miles #hobie brown x reader #miles is 15 #miles morales smut

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honeypiehotchner · 10 months

Text

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part ten

I listened to the stripped version of "Good Looking" a lotttt starting around now as I wrote this fic. It's perfect for how the reader is beginning to feel, the sadness and confusion, remembering how Hotch was and realizing how she no longer knows him 😭😭

Warnings: things are beginning to unravel

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new chapter goes up!

Ten: The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all -- "Good Looking" by Suki Waterhouse

“Hotch said he didn’t have any of the files, JJ,” Dave said, stepping into her office. The two of them spoke on the phone last night, as promised, and Dave wanted to give JJ the update first thing in the morning, as promised. “He said he had older ones.” He listed the names off and JJ nodded along.

“I have those accounted for,” she said, looking at her computer, shaking her head. “I know he had those. The others are probably in here somewhere. It’s just weird.”

“I agree,” Rossi said. Files didn’t disappear randomly. If some were taken or even copied, JJ was notified, and she logged it. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Did you look through Hotch’s office?” JJ suggested. She seemed hesitant to even ask, chewing on her nails after proposing the question.

“No,” Rossi said. “Should we?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, should we?”

Rossi thought it over. Strauss’s concern. Your odd reaction to his questions. Hotch’s strange character every time Rossi called. None of it made any sense. Rossi assumed it was grief, just like you told him, just like he told himself, that maybe it was Hotch even trying to convince himself that he was feeling better than he was. But there was a nagging feeling deep in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Yeah,” Rossi finally said. “I’ll go look.” He knew how it looked and felt: like an invasion of Aaron’s privacy. But this was becoming too convoluted to worry about privacy.

Rossi went back into the bullpen, glad to see you sitting at your desk already. He tapped your shoulder as he went by, nodding his head up to the second level.

You got up and followed, assuming he was going to his office. Your heart began hammering in your chest when Rossi stopped outside Hotch’s office. No one had been in there since Hotch left. It was locked.

You watched in terror as Rossi took out his keys and let himself into Hotch’s office, flicking the light switch.

You walked inside slowly, your voice low as you asked, “What are you doing?”

“What I don’t want to be doing,” Rossi replied in a hiss, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gestured toward you. “Shut the door.”

You closed the door and pulled the blinds for good measure. Or to help your paranoia. You had a bad feeling in your stomach and a bad taste in your mouth. “Rossi, what the hell is going on?”

“JJ can’t find a few files,” he replied, stopping in front of Aaron’s desk facing you, placing his hands on his hips.

“I know, she told me--”

“One of them she can’t find is Issac Holman.”

“What?” That was not right. That had to be a bad coincidence. The file showed up missing and Holman was dead? Impossible. Too eerie to be a coincidence.

“Another one missing is Nicholas Edwards,” Rossi continued. “He died two days ago. Shot in the back of the head, executioner style.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us?” That was a brutal method; it was necessary to alert the team.

“Because I didn’t want to say anything just yet,” Rossi replied. His fuming eyes landed on you next. “I need you to come clean with me.”

Fear shot through you so hard that you took a step back from him. “What?”

“When I called you into my office a couple of days ago, you acted like I was interrogating you when I asked simple questions,” Rossi recalled, stepping closer to you. “What did you and Aaron talk about? Tell me the truth. Right now.”

You shook your head. This was a nightmare. This was not happening to you. “Rossi--”

“Agent L/N, I am ordering you,” he pressed, raising his voice. He stepped closer, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Tell me. This is bigger than whatever secrets you might have, so I need you to get over it and--”

“We had sex!” you blurted, shame rising in your chest like flames, burning their way to your neck. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Stunned, Rossi struggled to find words, eyes blinking and jaw opening and closing. “You-- Are-- Are you two seeing each other?”

“No,” you replied, your face burning with embarrassment. You wished that was the reason behind the sex, that it was a sweet, romantic, domestic relationship you were hiding. “He kicked me out. He wanted nothing to do with me. Can we move on now?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, turning around slowly. “Help me look for any files he kept in here. Holman and Edwards might be in them.”

You nodded, glad your failed fling with your boss was forgotten for the moment. “Why would they be in here?”

“He liked to go over them afterwards,” Rossi explained.

“Yeah, I know.” You turned to look on the side tables by the couch, but there were only random magazines, no doubt put there by someone else. Strauss probably put them there one day to liven the place up a bit.

Rossi studied one section of Aaron’s desk against the back wall. “This is empty.”

You leaned over. “Yeah.” You stared at it, eyebrows furrowing. “He used to have a lot of books and…” Files. You remember. You watched him close his briefcase as he said he was sorry but you knew he didn’t mean it.

Rossi turned and looked at you, the same haunted expression on his face. “He took them with him.”

You nodded slowly, your hand covering your mouth. “I watched him take them.” You paused, a sick feeling settling into your bones. “Rossi…what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi said slowly, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

But he knew. You both knew. Neither of you wanted to admit it.

+++

Aaron was washing the blood off his hands in the unsub’s bathroom sink.

He didn’t mean for that much blood to be shed, but he got carried away. The unsub fought back harder than Aaron expected him to. One punch led to another and then Aaron had flashbacks to George Foyet. The unsub’s face no longer existed. It was only Foyet, and Aaron got revenge. Again. And again.

Unfortunately, it made a mess of the fucking bedroom. Thankfully, none of Aaron’s blood was shed. He caught a few blows to his chest and abdomen, but none to the face, none that bled, not like the unsub bled all over the goddamn place. Aaron knew the human body carried 5 liters of blood -- thanks to Reid -- but it looked like much more.

He needed to leave as soon as possible, so he settled for cleaning his hands thoroughly and forgetting the rest.

He rode back to his home in Quantico in silence. No music, no news. He needed to think.

But thinking only landed him in places he didn’t want to be, so he stopped. He stopped for food and carried on back to Quantico to get his things together.

He had one more unsub to hunt, and it wouldn’t be easy. The fucker ran from him once, he assumed he would do it again. So, Aaron needed to be careful and meticulous about this one. It would take longer than a weekend getaway.

+++

You were called into Strauss’s office the following day. You knew it wasn’t good, but you knew that even before you saw Rossi sitting in one of her chairs, fingers pressed to his temple.

“You called for me, ma’am?” you asked, shutting her office door behind you.

“Yes,” Strauss rounded her desk, gesturing to one of the empty seats on her couch. “Sit.”

This is not good. You did as you were told, sitting on the very edge of the cushion. Rossi refused to look at you, and it made your stomach turn. You took a deep breath.

“What do you know of Hotch’s whereabouts?” Strauss asked conversationally. She went over to her minifridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Uh, he’s at his apartment, I guess?” you replied, taking the water from her.

“You guess?” Strauss pressed.

You chuckled awkwardly. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I don’t know where Agent Hotchner is. We haven’t spoken since he left.”

Strauss laughed as she sat down across from you. “Well, Dave told me you did speak to Aaron.”

You looked at Rossi with wide eyes, sensing betrayal, but he shook his head only slightly. So he told her the truth, but not the full truth.

“I went to his apartment to offer condolences,” you said. “And to check on how he was doing.”

“And how was he doing?”

“He seemed fine,” you shrugged, putting the water down on her coffee table. “What is this about?”

Strauss sighed. “Agent Hotchner’s behavior has been worrying me since the day I sent him home,” she said. “Now, supposedly, he needs to get away, with no phone, no devices. And frankly, I cannot let him do that.”

You looked at Rossi, your eyebrows furrowed. “Where is he going? What is he thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi replied. “He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he is heading out tomorrow morning.”

You turned back to Strauss. “Ma’am, I had no idea--”

“I know,” she stopped you with her hand in the air. “I don’t care to know the details of your relationship with Agent Hotchner. I hope there aren’t any details. But seeing as you are someone he trusts, I need you to follow him.”

“Follow him?”

“Yes. See where he goes. If it’s nothing troubling, you will return to the BAU. This is a private assignment and you are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room, do you understand?”

You nodded. “I do.”

You felt like you were signing your life away.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #unsub!hotch #unsub!hotch fanfiction #unsub!hotch fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 31: New Year's Eve Traditions & Activities

We made it to the end!!! Tell me that picture doesn't look like Steve and Eddie's arms!!!

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Season 4, Canon Divergent, Everybody Lives (obviously), New Year's Eve, New Year's Eve Kiss, New Year's Eve Fluff, Humor

wc: 1480 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Let me get this straight,” Steve says, resting his forearms on the candy counter of Family Video. After a quick glance around to make sure the store is still empty (it is and has been since their shift started four hours ago), Steve continues. “You won’t be my New Year’s kiss because you have to scarf down 12 grapes in 12 seconds.”

“That’s correct.”

“That makes no sense!”

“Maybe if you stopped whining and actually listened to why, you’d understand” Robin chimes in.

Steve looks up and scowls before flicking her knee that’s dangling off the candy counter. She shouldn’t even be up there in the first place — especially not with her damn shoes on. It’s going to take an extra ten minutes to clean the damn thing now that she’s scuffed it up.

“Fine,” he sighs, turning his attention back to Eddie. “Why do you have to scarf down 12 grapes instead of kissing me, your boyfriend?”

Robin snorts, nearly choking on a piece of licorice. Serves her right, Steve thinks as he wordlessly passes her a cup of water.

“I’m so happy you asked,” Eddie beams as he leans against the counter like Steve. Their forearms brush as Eddie situates himself, elbows pressing into the glass as he nestles his chin in the palm of his hands. “See an old wise tale in my culture says that eating 12 grapes at the 12 strokes of midnight brings good luck in the new year.”

“Do you even believe in luck?”

Eddie hums in consideration, “Not really, no. But I’m not going to tempt fate. Especially when I have too much to lose in the new year if I fuck it up.”

Before Steve has time to ask a follow-up question, his lips are on Eddie’s. Warm and slightly chapped. Tasting like tobacco and an overwhelming serving of cherry thanks to the stupid licorice he’s been devouring with Robin. He barely has time to close his eyes and lean into the kiss before Eddie pulls away with a simper and a cute flush spreading across his cheeks that he tries to hide with a lock of his hair.

“What if I said not kissing me at midnight is bad luck?” Steve tries.

“Well, then I guess I could try to do both.”

“Absolutely not,” Robin says, butting back into the conversation. “I am not calling the paramedics one second into the new year because you two decided to be major dinguses. Just let Eddie eat his grapes and kiss him after.”

“But it’s not the same,” Steve bemoans. He lets his body go slack, chest, and head thunking against the counter with a gentle force that should keep him from bruising. Looking up through his eyelashes, he gives Eddie his best attempt at making his eyes wide and innocent in a way that’ll make him break. “I haven’t had a midnight kiss in years. I just thought this year was going to be different.”

“Join the club,” Robin says, knocking her knee against his outstretched forearm.

“Oh no, trouble in romance land, Birdie?” Eddie asks, completely ignoring Steve’s terrible attempt at guilt-tripping him.

Robin sighs, tipping her head back until it thunks against the wall. The neon Family Video sign shakes under the vibration but thankfully doesn’t fall. That’s a mess Steve doesn’t want to have to clean up.

“I thought when Vickie broke up with her douchebag boyfriend things would fall into place but nothing has happened. There’s only so many hints I can drop before I accept the fact that she’s not into me.”

“But she is into you,” Steve says. If there’s one way to get him out of his own pity party, it's dragging Robin out of her own.

“Yeah well, my last four dateless weekends say otherwise.”

“Maybe you should eat the grapes too,” Eddie says. “Freak says if you eat them under a table it’ll bring good luck in your love life.”

Steve can’t help but snort. “How’s that working out for him?”

“Well, he has a girlfriend up in Maine where his grandparents live so you tell me,” Eddie challenges.

“At this point, I’ll try anything. I can’t go another year without kissing a girl,” Robin whines. “Any other good luck charms I should know about?”

“Argyle said his family wears different color underwear for different types of luck. Red for love, obviously.”

“Red underwear and grapes. Got it.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head. “I guess we’re making a stop at Bradley’s before we head home. Does it matter if they’re red or green grapes?”

“Nope. A grape is a grape. The important thing is eating them fast.”

“Right,” Steve nods as if he understands even though he’s still incredibly skeptical about this whole charade. Kissing Eddie sounds so much better than nearly choking on grapes, but whatever. If it makes Eddie happy, well, he’ll compromise. “Might be good to have the phone nearby then. Just in case we forget how to chew.”

“Wait we? Are you eating grapes too?” Eddie asks, already bouncing on his feet in anticipation.

Okay, yeah, eating a few grapes is worth the look on his face right now.

“Can’t let you and Robin take all the good luck,” he shrugs.

Eddie grins before launching himself at the counter. He practically vaults over the damn thing but his belt gets caught and he goes stumbling into Steve’s arms instead. It’s not the first time they’ve fallen together like this, and it definitely won’t be the last given his clumsiness, but Steve doesn’t mind. Especially not when Eddie pushes himself up and sears a kiss on his waiting lips.

“Promise I’ll make the first kiss of the new year worth the wait.”

🍇 🎆 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

As the kids start counting down from 30, Steve scrambles to pass out the giant green grapes he and Robin picked up the day before. The kids are uninterested in the tradition, but Eddie ropes Jonathan and Nancy into his antics. Argyle didn’t need convincing, already eager to cross off as many New Year’s superstitions as he could — which is why he ran around the block with an empty suitcase half an hour ago.

Robin b-lines for the dining room table the minute she has 12 grapes in her palm and it’s only a matter of seconds before Eddie’s tugging Steve after her.

“Eds,” he shouts, nearly spilling his grapes in the process. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us under the table!”

“I thought that’s for good luck in love.”

“It is,” Eddie says, ducking as he squishes in next to Robin.

“But you already have me.”

“Wow, Steve. Someone’s full of themselves,” Robin teases.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I just want to make sure the universe gives me enough luck to keep you,” Eddie says, bashfully, before giving Steve’s wrist another yank. “Now get under here before you ruin the magic!”

Steve wants to tell Eddie that he doesn’t need some silly superstition to keep him. He’s not going anywhere, not if he can help it. But the kids are really shouting now, already down to five seconds and Steve can see the slight panic in Eddie’s brown eyes so he scrambles under the table instead.

“3! 2! 1! Happy—“

“Eat, eat, eat!” Eddie shouts, drowning out the cheers of the kids in the living room.

Steve shoves the first grape into his mouth and gets to chewing, watching as Eddie shoves at least three and Robin tries her best to work through her own pile of grapes as fast and carefully as she can. It’s a chaotic flurry, especially when one of Eddie’s grapes falls and goes rolling, but Steve saves it without getting out from the table and pops it in Eddie’s mouth for him. He wants to say “for extra good luck” but he’s too busy trying not to choke on his own mouthful of grapes.

Christ, why did they have to be so big and crunchy?

In the end, all three of them manage to successfully eat their grapes before 12:01 hits. To celebrate, Eddie drags Steve back out from under the table. Back on their feet, Eddie dramatically dips him in his arms before giving him the cheesiest kiss they’ve ever shared — loud “mwah” included.

“That’s the big kiss you promised me?” Steve asks, laughing as Eddie pulls him back into a standing position.

“Well, I had other plans but there’s too many witnesses for how I really want to kiss you,” Eddie teases, before leaning in closer. “I’ll show you later.”

Steve smiles as he gets his hands around Eddie. This time he’s the one who pulls him close, bodies flush as he stares into those beautiful brown eyes he hardly even looked at a year ago. “I think this is going to be a good year.”

“’87, baby.”

#steddiemas #stwgdailyprompt #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #steve fic #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #eddie fic #robin buckley #robin buckley fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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