#he wearing cone as hat

[frostbyte744]

Bonk!!

[otrtbs]

do you draw

no :(( if i did i would just draw pictures of james potter in silly little outfits all day so god wouldn't let me have that skill :((

[quinn-borel]

If you're still looking for prompts, would you be willing to write a bit more on how Aymeric talked Quinn into wearing the infamous Chastity Hat for mass? XDDD. (Sorry--it's just so funny!)

Quinn loved Aymeric, that was an undeniable truth.  She cared for him, stood by his side, and supported all of his endeavors with a warm smile and words of encouragement.  Some would say that small facets of her personality had changed to accommodate her new life with him, such as curbing her drinking and no longer philandering about with other men and women.  She was a woman wholly devoted to him, just as he was devoted to her.

Again, to stress: she was devoted to him...not his religion.

“You have got to be kidding me.” she stated rather firmly, “No.  I love you, but that’s a bit much.”

“Dear, it’s not as bad as it looks, I promise you this.”

They both stood in their now-shared bedchamber as the steward of the house brought in the newly-spun garments for the new lady of the house to wear.  It was the latest fashion–an Ishgardian-woven gown with soft fluff around the neck and breast region with long sleeves and little to no train.  A typical dress worn by ladies around Ishgard, and certainly not foreign to Quinn’s personal wardrobe since her arrival in the city.  What irked her was the demanded fashion from the Holy See…

A tall cone-shaped hat with white cloth jutting out of the tip and over the sides, fashioned to cover her hair and only allowing her facial features and ears to show.  It was the utmost show of modesty, both the steward and her husband explained.

“I don’t give a shite if it’s for ‘modesty’…” Quinn went on, “I’m no woman of the cloth–this is absolutely unnecessary for an ‘outsider’ like me to wear.”

“My dear, you’re not the only one who will be wearing this, mind you.” Aymeric said as his lips twitched, trying not to smile, “It’s the appropriate attire to wear to Mass.  By Halonic doctrine, all those presenting as feminine should wear-”

“You’re excusing this!?” she turned to him, sharp on her heels, “Aymeric, you–by the Gods I see that look in your eyes.  You think this is amusing.”

He let out a laugh, unable to conceal it much longer.  Truly, he had never seen someone so apprehensive towards a dress code.  Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, to which Aymeric immediately straightened up,

“Forgive me, my darling. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Quinn, please.” he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, “You’ve trialed much in your days as the Warrior of Light.  You can handle seventy minutes with a…cone on your head-”

“Even you think it’s silly.” she pointed out, “Imagine if you had to wear it.”

“I had to wear a chainmail coif that covered my ears when I was a Temple Knight.” Aymeric reminded her, “Now that was uncomfortable.”

Quinn sighed as she rolled her eyes.  There was no winning the argument with him.  She quickly grabbed the hat and dress from the steward and dismissed him.  Aymeric ran his fingers through his hair, still trying not to laugh too much.

“I’m doing this for you.” she grumbled.  Aymeric smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, arms gently wrapping around her to hold her,

“And it means the world to me, dear.  My beautiful wife (cone and all) by my side during Mass? What more could I ask for?”

“Now you think buttering me up with honeyed words is going to make me less irritated by this thing?”

“It was worth a try.” he released her and went back to his wardrobe, “We should hurry, lest we be late.”

Quinn stared at the hat, trying to make heads or tails on how to put it on.  As apprehensive as she was to wear it, she knew deep down how much it meant to her husband.  As the Lord Speaker, Aymeric had a reputation to uphold as a beacon of hope for this people, which meant that everything he did was under scrutiny.  And by extension, everything his wife did was under scrutiny as well.  While he wasn’t close to being a man of the cloth, he was still a man of Ishgard’s faith and attended Mass on the regular.  Having Quinn as his wife, she was expected to attend with him–the main excuse for early on in their bonding was her work in Mor Dhona.  However, as time went on the excuse faded and she had no choice but to attend whether she was a Halone worshipper or not.  At first, she didn’t mind the thought–she would simply play the part and meditate during prayer.  Everything else would fall into place.  What she wasn’t prepared for was the fashion doctrine…

After a few minutes of deliberation, Quinn turned to Aymeric with the hat snugly fit on her head.  To make light of it, she posed for him–hand on on hip with the other running down her thigh,

“How do I look?  Sexy, right?”

He balked at the display before letting out another cackle of laugher.  Quinn’s eye twitched slightly and her head tilted awkwardly from the extra weight.

“I could take you right now.” he said with a smirk, “…But in all seriousness, it doesn’t look that bad.”

“I feel like my entire equilibrium is thrown off.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it.” he chuckled, “…Thank you, Quinn.”

Her gaze softened towards him–maybe the hat wasn’t all that bad.  It made him laugh, it made him smile, and it was her taking part in his culture.  Their culture, now that she was bound to Ishgard.

She did it for him, and that was just another way she showed her devotion.  

[rubyarerosies]

lowkeyartist!sukuna hc’s

lokwyeartist!sukuna who goes live occasionally now, most are on the spot guitar covers but some that seem to be more popularised is when randomly feels like it. The most liked one is when he’s eating ice cream with his son, it’s just a shot of his face eating his cone while the top of his son’s head is all that can be seen. His son is probably one around this time and Sukuna entertains him and the live by interacting with his sons babbles, “is that right?” “really?” “you’re smart like your mama”

lowkeyartist!sukuna who dyes his hair black and doesn’t let his mass know by wearing caps in his videos after doing so for months so that he can enjoy dates and days out with his family without having to wear a mask and hat all the time. His followers find out and the questions food in, “why did you dye it? because i wanted to be normal with my family, being known comes at a big cost” “plus my sons got my hair colour and my wife always gushed over about it, so i figured to give her something to gush about towards me - brats stealing my spotlight from my own wife”

lowkeyartist!sukuna who always prioritises you and your sons identity. He never does shows internationally, saying he doesn’t like leaving his family. He always makes sure to cover you if he spots cameras pointing his way when you two are in public. And he always, always makes sure to reassure you of your importance in his life if a few comments or tweets etc. start getting to you (he definitely would make a post on his ig if that comments do start to overbear you a bit - something something, “my wife is deserving of my love, and I won’t stand aside to let a lot of you tear her down.”)

lowkeyartist!sukuna who wants his son to learn the drums. Theres a video he posted where he’s playing his electric guitar unplugged beside his son whose back is in front of the camera, his little drum in front of him while his dad tries to get him to hit on beat; you’re behind the camera cheering him on, also attempting to get him to hit on beat. Overall it’s just a cute video of your son bonding with his dad.

[asmimir]

Dysmorphia

Ik gender, sexual orientation or anything of the sort is not an issue in the cotl-verse in canon, but Kallamar, Kallamar is special. to me at least.

when you're so used to long flowing tendrils, pretty gowns and a crown that literally resembles (ik it's supposed to be a dunce hat but i'm ignoring that lol) one of those old cone shaped princess hats??? the one in kids shows back then with a streamer at the tip that flows down along with the hair?

when femininity becomes almost second nature to the point where "Brother" only bothers him juuust a little bit, who cares he could brush it off. call him whatever. he's too afraid to correct you anyway.

but now as a follower, he has none of those luxuries, no pretty tentacles, no crystals, no gowns.

just his body...his ugly, slimy, scarred, thin, sorry excuse of a body with a forehead too wide and ears- his precious ears, nothing but shredded lumps at the sides of his head. (Though it was always like that post Narinder, he always hid it with pretty jewelry that matched him)

he's too afraid to ask more of the lamb because of- well because of everything- so instead he asks the tailors for an old marital robe and wears it even though he isn't wed to the lamb (it sparked a LOT of misunderstandings, Leshy found it funny for the most part)

it hides him. hides the shame. it feels okay, for once.

but every now and then it comes back, like an itch, he can't scratch.

thus. here we are.

[tetskuro]

when you pretend to forget atsumu's birthday, he's distressed.

"hey babe, ya sure ya aren't forgettin' somethin'?"

"oh, my keys!" you gasp, trying to contain your laughter at atsumu's bewildered expression. "thanks, 'tsumu, i would've left them behind if it weren't for you."

before he can even get another word in, you're already out the door.

what the hell is going on?

atsumu becomes even more confused when osamu joins in on the prank.

"ya have the same birthday as me, ya scrub!" atsumu squawks when his twin looks at him like he's grown two heads.

osamu just shrugs. "you've got the wrong day, dumbass. it's not fer a week."

if atsumu were a bit more gullible, you and osamu would've been able to successfully gaslight him into thinking he remembered his own birthday incorrectly.

sulking, he returns to his apartment after volleyball practice. to make matters worse, none of his teammates made any indication of acknowledging his birthday, putting him in a sour mood.

the first thing atsumu sees when he opens the door is a blur of color.

"surprise!"

his apartment is crowded with all of his teammates, old high school friends, and his own twin brother with a shit-eating grin on his face.

'samu, that bastard, atsumu thinks. his internal stream of cussing out osamu is interrupted when his eyes land on you.

there you are at the center of it all, wearing a colorful cone hat and holding a cake. his heart skips a beat.

"was beginnin' ta think that you'd forgotten my birthday," atsumu admits, relief and happiness washing over him.

"i could never," you reply and kiss his cheek sweetly. "it took quite a bit of planning to get everybody in on it, but i wanted to make it as memorable as possible. happy birthday, 'tsumu."

surrounded by his favorite people, atsumu ends his birthday on a high note. cheers and singing fill the air as they celebrate his special moment; it truly was a day he could never forget.

a/n: aaand happy late birthday to atsumu! he's such a loser (affectionate)

for more works, check out my masterlist

© tetskuro 2024. please do not repost or modify my work.

[steddiealltheway]

(So, idk if anyone has ordered or seen the Scoops Ahoy costumes from Amazon or whatever, but the shorts for Robin are tight and short. But the shorts for Steve are like the ones seen in the show. Which leads me to this thought…)

Steve’s first day at Scoops Ahoy is… alright?

Actually, it’s pretty miserable.

Scooping ice cream is way harder than it looks. And for some reason he can’t get that perfect rounded shape. It just comes out in pieces that he has to mash into cups and balance on top of cones.

Plus, he’s pretty sure his coworker hates him.

Her name is Robin, and she scowls and dramatically points at her name tag when he asks for it. To make matters worse, they apparently went to high school together, but he doesn’t have the vaguest memory of her. (To be fair, they did not run in the same social circles with her being in band and even theatre and with Steve being “King Steve.”)

But for some reason, she loves to poke fun at him especially when he fails to get any girl’s number. It’s like the Harrington charm radiates through his hair which is blocked by the stupid hat.

But what he really notices only an hour into their eight hour shift is the way she’s tugging at her shorts. She digs her fingers under the elastic band around her thighs as if trying to stretch them out, and she’s constantly trying to pull them down as they begin to ride up.

And really, Steve not trying to perv or anything, but she’s make quite a bit of a fuss with the whole thing, cursing under her breath and obviously really uncomfortable.

So, when the store is fairly empty, Steve turns to her and asks, “Do you want to change shorts with me?”

For the first time, Robin laughs. Loudly. She even snorts at the idea. But her laughter quickly dies down when she realizes Steve isn’t laughing. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. You look uncomfortable. And hey, I’ve worn way worse to basketball practice, plus I had to wear speedos when I was on the swim team.”

Robin’s nose scrunches up. “Gross.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips and huffs, “Do you want to switch or not?”

She takes a few seconds to stare at Steve, clearly suspicious of an ulterior motive. But then, she curses and starts tugging at elastic band again. “Okay! Fine. But we’re not getting change in the same room.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he heads to the back room. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

In the end, Steve is left to change in the damn freezer storage area while Robin gets the whole break room. But he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he sucks it up and doesn’t complain. (Although he really really wants to.)

He waits for her to knock on the door to signal she’s ready, looking down at the shorts. They’re not horrible, but he can understand why Robin was uncomfortable - as they’re already stretching over his ass and thighs while starting to ride up beyond mid thigh.

Even after she knocks, Steve asks, “Ready for me to come out?”

He thinks he hears her laugh about that for some reason before she answers, “Yeah!”

He steps into the room and glances down at her new shorts momentarily before nodding. “Better?”

Robin smiles slightly and nods before heading back out to the main area.

Steve follows behind her. “Hey, they gave me two pairs of these. I can give you the extra pair to wear and keep during our next shift together.”

Robin turns to him and narrows her eyes. “What are you asking for in return?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. He hopes she understands that he really means it and won’t hold this over her head like an asshole.

She just stares at him for a few seconds before almost wondrously saying, “Huh.”

Luckily, she seems to relax for the first time since their shift started.

After this, the teasing from before has less of an edge to it, but it becomes relentless. Steve almost thinks that maybe this is the start of a wonderful friendship. But Robin would never want that from him.

He only changes his mind about this later when Eddie Munson walks into the store while Steve is cleaning the tables. He accidentally knocks over a napkin and bends over to pick it up, feeling his shorts ride up.

When he stands up, he’s met with a pink faced Munson who stares at him - or rather his ass - with wide eyes.

“See something you want to sample?” Steve asks honestly a bit against his will because it’s part of the Scoops Ahoy greeting. (Only for some reason, he’s unable to get any other part of the greeting out.)

Eddie’s pink face turns red as his eyes snap up to Steve’s. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he quickly breathes out, “I need to leave.”

When the boy practically runs out the store, Steve naturally glances over his shoulder at Robin, trying to gauge if she just saw what he did.

She’s already laughing behind the counter saying between bouts of laughter, “See something you want to sample?”

Steve huffs and feels a blush rise to his cheeks. “Shut up,” he mumbles out, throwing the napkin away before returning behind the counter. “I’m never asking that again.”

But as Robin continues to laugh, Steve can’t help but join in a little, wondering if maybe she would like to be friends and if Eddie will ever come back.

So, maybe his first day wasn’t pretty miserable or just alright. Maybe it was perfect.

[aplaceinme]

Something about Tommy being invited to the party. And him going because he adores Christopher and he likes Eddie who is his friend.

Something about Tommy being there for both Eddie and Buck. Establishing the friendship and dynamic between them.

Something about Tommy going along with the plan to throw a party to a kid (teenager) through a video call. And not only going along with it, but being enthusiastic about it. ( And agreeing to wear a party hat/cone, and hide for the surprise)

Something about Tommy listening to Buck complain about Gerrard and trying to take his mind off it.

Something about Tommy being unapologetically into his boyfriend, that he will compliment him any time he can and will find him adorable or a “vision” even with a party hat on.

Something about the way they look at each other. Their smiles. Their smirks. Their heart eyes.

Something about them being all giddy and flirty and then being all flustered by each other.

It was just perfection! And I’m not going to be normal about it!

[rcmclachlan]

8x01 coda

Inspired by @dadbodbuck's devastating post.

+

When Eddie draws in a breath, there's an audible crackle. It sounds almost like rales, or maybe heartbreak just manifests as broken glass and burnt particles from a discharged weapon in the lungs. He drops his head onto his chest as though it's too heavy to hold up and says, voice dead, "I don't know what else to do."

Tommy takes a sip of his beer—his fourth of the night—and stares at the ceiling while he tries to come up with the magical answer they've been searching for ever since the Skype call cut out. He frowns. Who still has a popcorn ceiling in the 2020s? He could scrape, skim, and sand it in a weekend.

Evan helpfully mutters something about non-native species into Tommy's thigh, a wet patch of drool expanding where his mouth is smushed into the denim, and Tommy presses his fingers slightly into the back of his neck. He settles almost immediately, then shows his appreciation by opening the floodgates again, soaking right through to Tommy's skin. He's still wearing the cone hat.

"Maybe there's nothing else to do," Tommy muses quietly. He takes another sip of the Nose Job he has no choice but to drink, because for some reason it's all Eddie has in the house. It tastes like grass.

"Used to be that when he was mad about something, he'd tell me to my face." Eddie lifts his head, only to drop it back against the edge of the couch. He's been sitting on the floor for almost an hour. "Even when he was little. He'd plant his feet and say it point blank: I'm mad at you."

Tommy huffs a reluctant laugh at the image.

"Guess he clocked that the reason he's said it so many times is because I never fucking learn." The crackle in Eddie's lungs is loud and awful. Tommy peers down to make sure there isn't blood in Eddie's teeth. "I just... I just hurt him, over and over. I've been doing it for years."

"Hey, no—" Tommy starts.

But Eddie either doesn't hear him or doesn't want even a crumb of kindness tossed his way, because he pushes on, voice growing weaker with every word. "I can blow up a million balloons and I can love him more than anything or anyone, but it's never going to be enough to make up for any of it. He cut his losses. I-I can't even be mad about him hating me, because I can't blame him."

With a wet gasp, Eddie turns his head against his shoulder and shudders.

Inhaling through his nose, Tommy closes his eyes and tries to see things from Christopher's point of view. It takes a few tries, mostly because of a gangly, desperate boy from thirty years ago who would've gladly sacrificed a limb to see his father show him a fraction of the love Eddie Diaz has for his kid.

But once Tommy shoves his inner child out of the way, he can see what Chris sees with startling clarity. Evan's said before that Chris hates their job, is terrified of losing Eddie or Buck the way he lost his mom. Tommy knows a little about Eddie's messy dating history and how it basically amounts to him just chasing one ghost after another out of some misplaced sense of duty to Chris—without ever asking Chris what he actually wants, or what he wants for Eddie.

The thing with his dead wife's doppelganger is too much for even Tommy, and he heard about it second hand. He can't imagine what it was like for Christopher to walk into that.

Tommy opens his eyes and looks down at Eddie, who's hunched over like an animal trying to hide a wound. He looks like something that belongs in the Louvre. The Despair of the Father Whose Best Isn't Good Enough (2024), oil on canvas.

"Eddie," he says gently. Any louder and Eddie will crumble to ruins. "There's nothing more for you to do other than what you're doing. Keep loving him and keep showing up for him, even though it hurts. He will talk to you again."

"How do you know?" Eddie mumbles into his own shoulder.

"Because if he hated you, he never would've taken the call in the first place."

Evan sighs in his sleep, and Tommy runs his thumb over the just-buzzed edge of his nape so softly it wouldn't wake a baby, never mind a full-grown man. He thinks idly about the way people bleed themselves dry for love, and for hope.

He wouldn't spare his father a single drop of blood. He thinks he'd tap a vein if Evan asked.

Pressing his lips together, he nudges Eddie with his foot until Eddie lifts his head. His eyes are glassy and rimmed red, but there's a little less devastation in his gaze than there'd been when he'd shut the laptop and gone straight into the kitchen for the beer.

"Just give it time," Tommy says.

Sniffling, Eddie looks at the hand Tommy has on Evan's neck, and tries to muster up a smile. "And how much more time are you going to give before—"

"Nope," Tommy cuts in, because that's a conversation for another time, another place, and another person. "You think I won't literally kick a man when he's down?"

It's not his best work but it makes Eddie laugh, so he calls it a win.

[sweetimpurity]

c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights. 

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to. 

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register! 

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again. 

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes. 

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles. 

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze. 

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight.  Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up. 

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two. 

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp. 

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies. 

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts. 

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.  

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone. 

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles. 

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up. 

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy. 

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough. 

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love. 

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick. 

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can. 

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him. 

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting. 

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him. 

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced. 

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

[lovebugism]

can i request something with a reader who’s just really into steve’s scoops ahoy uniform?

hi, my love! thanks so much for your request!! what better way to celebrate july 4th (aka stranger things 3 day) than by commemorating steve harrington in his scoops ahoy uniform? tw for smut mdni!! (2.1k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

When Steve told you he got a job slinging ice cream at the mall downtown, you didn’t think much of it. 

In fact, you spent the better part of that conversation comforting him. It was an existential crisis of sorts, wherein he’d spun himself into a panic about not going to college, not being successful, and not providing for you in the way that partners are supposed to. 

You figured it was a bruise to the ego more than anything — especially with his asshole father constantly looming over his shoulder. A steady reminder of what he could’ve been in ways more daunting than just one.

But then he showed you the Scoops Ahoy mandated uniform, held it in his hands with all the boyish reluctance of a child. According to him, the bright blue sailor’s outfit was the most dehumanizing thing of it all. It even came with its own stupid hat. 

You were so turned on by the idea of him wearing it, you forgot you were supposed to be consoling him. You quickly forgot why the job was ever a bad idea in the first place. Steve, albeit a bit confused by your sudden giddiness, was more excited to go into work the following Monday when he knew you were visiting him the first chance you got.

You’re practically skipping when you walk into Scoops, skirt swishing around your thighs. It was later in the morning, which meant business was relatively slow. There’s an older couple sharing a sundae at one of the booths, but other than that, you’re the only customer in the store.

Steve stands at the register with a smile on his face he doesn’t know is there. He’s been a real grouch all morning, but he’s forgotten why at the sight of you.

You beam at him, propping your elbows on the counter and putting your chin in your hands. “Do the line,” you gush.

His chest inflates with a deep breath in, then deflates with a sharp exhale. You don’t even notice that it’s a sigh of annoyance at first, too focused on the scarlet tie around his shoulders and the tufts of chest hair peeking out from the top of it.

“Ahoy, sweetheart,” he greets, still grinning despite his lack of enthusiasm. He tilts his head to his shoulder and recites his line: “‘Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me today? I’ll be your captain’— How was that?” 

“Even better in uniform,” you marvel in a lilt. Then you squint at him. “I better be the only customer you’re using that sweetheart line on, though, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs like the thought of saying it to anyone else is appalling. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the world I’ve ever called sweetheart, sweetheart.”

“Good. I plan on it staying that way.”

The boy smiles to himself. 

He likes when you get all possessive. Maybe because he spent the majority of his past relationships having to be the jealous one — always worried about never being good enough, being left. He likes how confident he is in the fact that you only have eyes for him. Even if he is wearing a stupid sailor’s uniform. 

“What do you what, huh?” the boy asks as he pulls out his metal scoop from the apron tied around his hips. “Choco-mint with chocolate sprinkles?”

He’s already spooning the green ice cream onto a cone for you before you say a word. You like that you never have to tell him what you want, that he knows you like the back of his hand already. 

“Ooh. He looks good in a sailor’s outfit, and he’s attentive?” you singsong lowly. “I think you might be a keeper, Steve Harrington.”

The boy rolls his eyes as he turns away from you. He walks to the opposite wall, where several containers of variously colored sprinkles sit in a large tub. When he bends over to smother your cone in the chocolate kind, the white hem of his shorts climbs up his thighs. You almost forget to breathe.  

Steve turns around to catch you staring. You don’t even blink.

“Stop ogling at me,” he laughs with pink cheeks. “It’s getting weird, babe.”

Your brows pinch. “Why is it weird to look at my boyfriend?”

“Because your boyfriend looks like an idiot. Like, this should not be turning you on, sweetheart.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Stevie,” you shrug with a whimsical sigh.

He meets your smirk with a half-hearted scowl and passes you the ice cream cone. When your tongue darts out to taste it, his brain malfunctions for a moment. “Seriously, babe,” he scoffs when his senses return to him. “What about any of this is attractive to you?”

Your head tilts as you scan his muscular form, looking far more boyish than usual in his flamboyant uniform. “Well, for starters, those ankle socks are strangely sexy—”

Steve snorts at the offbeat start to your list.

“—And your thighs look delectable in those shorts. Your arms do, too. You’ve been working out so much, they barely fit in those sleeves,” you compliment. The corner of your mouth quirks into a half-smile as your eyes flit up to his hair. “Also, something about the hat and ascot combo is really doing it for me.”

Robin comes out of the break room then. The door swishes back and forth. “You could’ve just said everything and be done with it,” she grouses as she clumsily sits her white cap on her head.

She looks about as grumpy as Steve, like something about the linoleum tile and fluorescent lighting is sucking the lives out of the two of them.

“Don’t worry. You look hot too, Buckley,” you promise with a smirk.

Her head tilts sweetly to the side as she musters a grin of her own. “Thank you.”

You turn back to Steve with an expectant gaze. “When do you go on break again?”

He twists his wrist to check his watch as you take another lick of your ice cream cone. 

Robin answers for him. “Now, preferably.”

“What?” the boy asks with furrowed brows. “I still have, like, fifteen minutes left.”

“Just go fuck and get it over with,” she groans, ocean-blue eyes wide and pleading. “I can practically smell the sexual tension radiating off both of you.”

Steve wants to argue, but you only smile. You nod your head towards the exit. “C’mon, sailor.”

He has no choice but to follow behind you. He’s been doing it for years now, and you haven’t disappointed him once. You lead him by his hand through the bustling mall, chucking your half-eaten cone into the bin when you reach the entrance.

Steve isn’t surprised when you wind up at his car in the employee parking section. He swirls with a boyish excitement, anyway. 

Everything feels so new with you. 

Even the things he’s done a thousand times.

Including, but not limited to, fucking you in the backseat of his car.

You’re on him the second you shut the door behind you. Your skirt bunches at your hips as you straddle his thighs, kissing him with the intent to swallow him whole.

Steve’s hands are limp at his sides in shock. It leaves you doing most of the work yourself, pulling down his blue shorts and gray underwear in one fell swoop. You tuck the hem of them beneath his heavy balls and half-hard cock.

His head falls back against the seat when you start fisting him completely stiff.

You twist your wrist in the way you know he likes — squeezing him towards the top before falling to the stem of his cock again. Your thumb swipes over his bulbous head to collect the pearly pre-come beading there. 

If you had enough room in the backseat of his Beamer, you might’ve forgone the sex entirely and just taken him into your mouth right then.

Steve’s rosy mouth falls agape to billow pretty little moans for you. You tug on the red tie around his neck to get his attention again. His glazed-over, honey eyes flutter open to find your smirking face. 

“Can I take a ride on your ocean of flavor, Stevie?” you tease with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“It’s ‘set sail,’ but yeah— shit,” he swears when your thumb grazes his leaking tip again. “Of course, you can, sweetheart…”

With his consent, you grip the bottom of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line him with your pulsating entrance. He might’ve asked if you wanted a little preparation first, but when his silky head grazes your satin walls, he knows you’re more than wet.

Your pussy’s already drooling all over him, and he isn’t even inside you yet. 

The both of you exhale low moans when you finally slip him within you. Your walls are warm and wet — the softest velvet imaginable, and perfectly snug around his achingly hard cock. You keep your fingers wrapped around the tie on his chest, using it for leverage as you grind your hips back and forth over his thighs. 

Steve goes pussy drunk almost instantly, babbling like crazy at the feeling of your cunt sucking him further and further inside of you.

“Oh, my fucking god, baby,” he moans, the words sounding stiff as they spill from his tightening throat. “You feel so good. So tight, too— Shit. Pussy’s drooling all over me, sweetheart.”

He can’t see you from this angle — can’t see the way your dripping cunt takes him so well or the way your ass glides perfectly over his heavy balls. But he can picture it, can feel your slick drenching his pubic hair and happy trail.

He so desperately wishes it were possible to fuck you with his cock and have you ride his face at the same time. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you.

But this is good for now. 

This is perfect.

With the energy he’s got left from his drifting senses, he grips the plush of your ass. He spreads your flesh apart, and the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin makes you clench around him. He almost loses it, then — when the smacking of your thighs and the wet squelch of your drenched pussy fills the small car, going slowly cloudy with your entwining heavy breaths.

“You’re so hot, Stevie,” you manage through labored pants. Your heavy-lidded gaze threatens to close, but you don’t want to stop looking at the boy below you. You want to commit all his features to memory — his pink kiss-bitten mouth, reddened cheeks, and honeyed eyes. You want the image of his fucked-out features to stain your mind forever.

“God, babe,” he sighs breathlessly, a moan mixed with a soft laugh. “I still don’t— I really don’t get it, sweetheart.”

“Are you seriously complaining?” you smirk as you glide your hips over his thighs again. 

Your swollen clit catches the polyester of the bottom of his shirt. You swear your eyes cross as your mouth opens in a low keen.

When your pussy clenches at the ethereal feeling, his cock jerk within your tightening velvet. Both of you are nearing your orgasms full throttle now. You can almost taste the sweet vanilla of your climax.

“No. Fuck no, I’m not complaining,” he assures with a shake of his head. “You’re just really fucking confusing and really fucking hot... Fuck—”

His head falls back again, exposing the golden tendons of his neck. You’d bite at them if you could stop looking at him. You smile even though he’s not looking at you — even though your thighs are burning and your knee is digging into the seat belt latch. “I can’t wait to fuck you when you get off.”

“Yeah?” he hums, eyes still halfway closed.

“Yeah,” you repeat with a nod, still rocking against his lap while his cock rubs relentlessly at the deepest parts of you. Your clit catches his shirt with every pass of your hips, sending a white-hot feeling of nearly unbearable pleasure shooting up your spine. “So I can get a real good look at you while you fuck me in this uniform.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his jaw clenches. He tries not to come at the sound of your voice and how the words spill like honey from your mouth. 

Despite the less-than-ideal location — at the edges of a mostly empty lot — he doesn’t want this to be over quite yet. He wants to feel you gush on his cock over and over and over again. He’s afraid he won’t be able to focus on work until you do.

If he knew that slinging ice cream for three dollars an hour in a stupid sailor’s outfit would drive you this crazy, he would’ve dropped out of school and put in an application forever ago. 

[lover-of-mine]

I NEED YOUR COLOR THEORIES ON BUDDIE MATCHING AND TOMMY LOOKING OUT OF PLACE COLOR-WISE AND THE "YOU WANTED THE RED ONE?" COMMENT THAT BUCK MADE LIKE I NEED IT RIGHT NOWWW

Hello my love, welcome to the madness!

First of all, this scene is 100% about Eddie, but for a second they try to make you think that it is about bt. They start with a very odd angle of Eddie's living room, I did not recognize it at first, so it kinda leads you to believe that we are about to get some domestic bt but then the camera quite literally does a 180 and we are suddenly focused on Eddie with Eddie in the middle, they are there to help create this illusion that Eddie is okay and everything is fine, just as much as the decorations that are only placed where Chris would be able to see.

We're also back to the triangle formation they were being put constantly during Buck's coming out arc, which is interesting in many ways, because they put Eddie in the middle, and while I don't love to put a lot of weight into interviews, both Tim and Oliver have talked about the way Tommy is not gonna interfere with buddie, so I'm intrigued about the role Eddie is gonna play within whatever "finding out uncomfortable truths" means.

I don't know how to fully form my thoughts about the scene as whole, but I know yall want me to talk color, and boy, do I have shit to say.

First off, Tommy's hat. I've been going kinda crazy trying to figure out if that damn hat is green or blue, because when I swatch it from different points of the scene, I get different undertones.

Currently, I'm working under the assumption that it is supposed to be a shade like this, like a dark petrol color, that is meant to be ambiguously blue and green.

Why would it be relevant for his color to be ambiguous in this context? Well, the complementary color to red is green and the complementary color to orange is blue.

I've talked about this a lot when talking about Buck and the way they use green as his something is wrong color, but the goal with complementary colors is to create contrast, so they are making Tommy contrast Buck and Eddie's, red and orange, hats. And there's also the way the letters and the streamer Eddie is holding are red. So while Buck and Tommy are the couple and Eddie is supposed to be the one outside, visually, Buck and Eddie are presented as a unity while Tommy stands out. There's also the way Tommy's lighter shades contrast Buck's darker.

They did something similar at the bachelor party, while the green and pink aren't exactly matchy from a color theory view, their outfits are explicitly stated as a matching costume, in pastel colors, contrasting the choice to put Tommy in a dark blue color, again with Eddie in the middle.

There's something about the way that Buck asks "I'm sorry, did you want to red one?" and Tommy completely ignores it in favor of turning the cones into a flirty comment, is that on a meta-level, since the party is red, and Buck himself wears red a lot, Tommy is yet again rejecting Buck's attempt to bring him in deeper into his life, to find that space where he would fit.

Something else just because this made Alli laugh, the decorations are red, but Tommy is blowing up a green balloon, and well, green is the breakup color and that is funny on its own, but considering the way the party is red, to have him with the opposite color balloon is yet another way to show the lack of effort, to make you aware he does not fit in with the Buckley Diaz family unity, and by consequence doesn't fit in in Buck's life.

But now talking Buck and Eddie specifically. Eddie is in a warmer version of the colors Buck is wearing. They match.

Even the red and orange thing we have going with the hats. Because red and orange are analogous colors, that means they are side by side in the color wheel, and they are meant to create a harmonious look, it's about cohesion, creating visual unity, it's the same principle the show uses to make the blue and green thing work (way too long meta on the blue and green), because since you have the same base color, it's easy to make them make sense together. (Also orange is red with yellow 👀 Eddie working his way to his yellow shade queer arc, I believe in you).

About Buck and the brown. Not a very Buck color. But it is interesting that we have Buck in brown when Eddie needs support and Buck wasn't there, when Eddie needs support and Buck is trying his best to fix it, and when Eddie needs support and finally asks for it.

Buck is here to be something for Eddie to rely on, and the color brown is used for comfort, stability in a positive setting. But also, negatively, brown is used for loneliness, so they are playing with both meanings here with the way they are both in brown.

Also about Eddie and the brown. Eddie wears a lot of earth tones, but that brown is entirely way too reddish for him. And it's something because during the whole Kim fiasco and when Chris leaves, he is in maroon, they used the color as an indication something is wrong.

So while Eddie is still trying to pretend he's fine, he is still partially in that red, from the shade to everything about the decorations.

So this was yet another way to establish Buck as Eddie's support system, and that Tommy doesn't fit in.

I think this is all, if you read all this, I love you 💜

Tagging the people who interacted with this about being tagged in my metas, you can do that too if you wanna be tagged

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell

[danveration]

Heyy <3 it's actually my 20th birthday today 🥺 and sadly my family doesn't really care about that ... could I maybe have a scenario with alastor on his lovers birthday and how he cheers her up because her birthday is kinda a sad day to her? It would mean so much to me :(

hi :) first of all, happy birthday!! i’m so sorry your family doesn’t take the time care about it. 20 is is a big accomplishment:) you should feel very proud of yourself. And of course, I’ll try to whip something up! I hope you enjoy it ❤️❤️

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: It’s your birthday but you’re pretty upset about it. But Alastor is there to comfort you.

You’re sitting on your shared bed with Alastor, trying to not get caught up in all the bad thoughts.

It was your birthday today and you’re not quite fond of them. It was a sad day to you. You weren’t looking forward to today.

You hear light knocking on the door and then Alastor steps in. He looks at you all in the dumps and can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Dearest?” He asks, leaning on his cane and tilting his head. He is wearing his usual red suit but he has one of those cone birthday hats on, even though Angel and Husk made fun of him all of this morning, he’s still keeping it on for you.

He knows today is your birthday and, as the gentleman he is, planned a whole day is extravagant activities! He had all your favourite foods and desserts in the kitchen. He made them all from scratch for you, knowing you love his cooking.

You look up at him as tears start to form in your eyes.

Alastor’s eyes widen a bit and his heart aches. He rushes over to you and immediately takes you into his arms and holds you.

“What’s the matter, fawn?” He asks in a gentle tone. His radio voice being music to your ears.

“I just..” You hiccup, trying not to sob.

He understands now that birthdays may not be the best for you, and shushes you, holding you tighter.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He pats the back of your head and starts, “I know this day may not be the brightest for you, hm? I understand it may be difficult. But I want you to know something..”

He pulls back and looks at you, putting his hands on your cheeks and smiling. Not an ounce of dis genuine-ness coming from him.

“I am here. I’m not going nowhere, Y/n. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what any wretched person made you feel this way about your birthday. Whatever happened, it doesn’t have to be that way, hm?” He says, smiling at you.

You smile at him lightly and nod.

“Now! how about we celebrate this day instead of feeling bad?” He proposes. He gets up quickly and puts his hand out in front of you to take, with his cane in his other hand.

You’re still pretty sad, but Alastor is right. You sniffle and take his hand. Instantly feeling comforted.

“Now, my dear.. I prepared some lovely things for you and planned out our day to a tea! You’ll forget about all the sadness in no time!” He says, happily.

You walk into the kitchen area and gasp. He has made all your comfort foods and favourite foods/drinks that you don’t even remember telling him about. There’s a ribbon that goes across the room that says “Happy Birthday Y/n!” with his handwriting. On the left tables, there’s presents from him and the other residents of the hotel, a stuffed animal deer, and in the middle of the kitchen on the main table, there’s a cake that says happy birthday aswell.

He looks down at you and says, “I hope you like it.”

You immediately hug him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

His heart swells. He hopes he can make this the best day ever for you. And if you feel bad again, he will make sure to comfort you without even blinking an eye. He loves you dearly and he won’t let any silly thing ruin his lovers mood. He’ll be here for you today and every other day to come.

A/N: Also, Alastor wants to say something to you. (Play the video underneath)

[mistxmood]

at first i got struck at the idea of bill's mom nicknaming him "Silly Billy" and then i had the image of him stuck in a dog cone and then spiraled from there

image description under cut!

[Image Description: The first drawing is of Bill Cipher, splintering cracks over his face and in his orange jumpsuit, sitting down with his hat in one hand, and the single atom left behind of his home dimension floating in his other hand. He has a forlorn look on his expression.]

[The second drawing is of Bill Cipher, still with his cracks but now without his jumpsuit. However, he still has a tracker anklet on. He's wearing a dog cone and is grumpy about wearing it. End image description.]

[The third drawing, he is freed from the cone. Instead, stickers litter his face ranging from a smiley face over a crack, a rainbow sticker, hearts and a star and a little cat face. He looks almost bored, or exhausted, having given up on resistance. He's accompanied by Mabel Pines, sitting on her knees and hunched over a sticker page, looking up at Dipper Pines besides her who is gesturing at her and Bill, befuddled at the situation.]

[The fourth drawing is of baby Bill Cipher, but as an older interpretation; he has black arms and legs. A pair of disembodied arms accompany him. One is holding a cup with a green silly straw sticking out of it, and the other is squeezing his cheek and cooing, "And make sure you drink it all this time, you Silly Billy!" Bill whines back, "MOOOOM! Don't CALL me thaat."]

[The fifth drawing is of Bill Cipher, covered in blood instead of cracks or stickers. His eye is large and sparkly, and he's poking himself in the cheek and acting bashful. He's accompanied with the text, "C'moon I'm just a silly Bill!" with a little heart emoji besides it. End image description]

[yandere-kokeshi]

Hiii!! Hope you’re doing good!! Could I request a poly werewolf 141 x reader who just has bad abandonment issues? Take care of yourself, I love you!!

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about abandonment, and werewolves.

A/N: Hi!! Yes of course. We love werewolves!! Enjoy and love you too, beloved <3!!

Gif by @/bastardcompany // NOT MINE

It breaks their heart, especially on Gaz's part, that you have this fear. Something, or someone, must've caused it. And it only angers and annoys them. However, they can't help but love this side of you.

It's easier for them to manipulate you, making you stay home, away from outsiders, and stay closer to them. And, with them being already possessive, and the werewolf blood swirling in them, it makes them proud and almost excited that you have a need about being around theme.

All of them, especially on Soap's part, constantly remind you that you're theirs, and they are yours; vice versa. Most of them understand your fears, all of them going through the fear itself one way or another. And quite the contrast, they don't blame you.

Naturally, with having bad abandonment issues, comes with insecurity, ultra clingiest, and paranoia. Most of the time, Price and Gaz are always around you, glued to your side and ensuring that they won't leave you — and never leave you for ‘someone else’

Every day, all of them are constantly wanting to be near you, touching you, holding you, talking to you, smelling you, any way any of them could have you.

In rare scenarios, where they do have to leave (work or having to go somewhere in public where they don't you at), they assure you over and over that they will just be an hour, and come straight back. Making sure to pick something sweet up (a gift) to prove to you that you mean everything.

All of them do meaningful things, especially during the nights where they're the most energetic — Soap bringing you a dead dove, mouth stained in blood and a sign of I love you in his eyes.

Simon and Price both working together on bringing a bunch of roses, flowers, or even a pine-cone from the forest; nudging it closer to your form as you gently reward them.

Gaz naturally gifts you his things — ensuring that you can, and you will wear his shirts, boxers, or even hats if he asks. And if you don't? Well, you wouldn't want to make your mates sad, no?

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[chestharrington]

I Think We're Alone Now || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Set in the S3 Starcourt era... Steve develops a fixation on the shopgirl-next-door.

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut || sexual fantasy (includes oral, f and m receiving, p in v sex) and solo masturbation, kind of a panty/lingerie fetish if u squint or even just stare

Word Count: 2.9k

Whoever was in charge of Starcourt Mall planning was a sadist. That was the only explanation as to why a lingerie store was situated directly next door to Scoops Ahoy. Really, what business did it have in a food court of all places?

It also didn’t help that Steve Harrington was in the sex drought of all sex droughts— caused not just because of his stupid uniform, but probably also owed a lot to the fact that he had no college prospects, had lost his proverbial crown to Billy Hargrove, and had been cheated on with Jonathan Byers. Nothing kills a reputation quite like that. 

So there he was— showing up to work every day, walking past scantily clad mannequins and shopgirls wearing tight miniskirts, none of whom gave him the time of day when he was dressed like that. Well, none of them except you. 

“Good morning, Steve!” You greeted, wearing a tight white button-up shirt with a black pencil skirt. Like a sexy librarian had just walked off the page of a centerfold and decided to work retail. You were lifting the gate from the front of the store and placing a sale sign right between your two shops as he passed.

“You’re opening again?” He asked, pausing in front of his stupid, sticky helljob. You blew a loose piece of hair from your bangs as you stood and nodded. 

“And closing. It’s our summer savings sale,” you explained. “You should probably expect a lot of rollover customers. Stop by if you’re in the market for anything. Maybe a nice gift for a girlfriend?” Before he could respond, you gave him a pretty smile as you disappeared into your dimly-lit storefront to finish opening. 

You’d gone to high school together, though he doubted you remembered him. You were, after all, a senior while he was just an annoying sophomore on JV Basketball. You were on homecoming court, voted most friendly for senior superlatives, and were probably the hottest girl in your class. He didn’t have a chance then, and he definitely didn’t now.

But you always said hello when he passed by, and you would stop by Scoops sometimes after work and buy a cone of the flavor of the month. He wanted to talk to you more— to actually get to know you beyond a schoolboy crush, but you were so far out of his league that he couldn’t bring himself to try. 

When he walked into Scoops, his boss, Allan, had already begun the process of opening. His task of vigorously polishing the glass case of ice cream felt pointless when it was about thirty minutes from being smudged with a toddler’s fingerprints. 

“Steven, you’re late,” He said firmly. 

Steve glanced towards the clock. “I’m five minutes early.”

Allan slung the rag he was cleaning with over his shoulder and sighed. “In my book, thirty minutes early is on time, and on time is late.”

Steve made a face as he refrained from telling Allan that payroll would disagree. Instead, he put on the stupid sailor hat and pinned on his nametag. And, just because he could, he clocked in early.

His morning was hectic. Like you’d said, there were countless rollover customers who wandered in after the sale next door, each clutching a bag of lingerie and giggling with their friends. His wrist was aching from scooping so much ice cream by the time lunchtime rolled around. He would’ve gone back for his fifteen, but there you were, your hair pulled back in a banana clip, fanning yourself as you stepped into the long line for ice cream. 

When you finally reached the counter, you smiled like the two of you shared a secret. “Busy day?” You asked as you fished cash out of your purse. 

“It’s been crazy. You?”

You peered up at him and laughed wryly. “God, you wouldn’t believe the number of women in this town who jump at the chance for discounted racy lingerie. I’m drowning in satin and lace today.”

He managed to smile without looking like a complete idiot as he scooped your ice cream, handing it across the counter as you looked at him with amusement. 

“You memorized my order? That’s so sweet, Steve.”  You handed him a few bills and coins across the counter. “Keep the change, alright? Hopefully I'll see you later.”

His cheeks burned hot. “Yeah, for sure.” He stared dumbly as you licked your ice cream and walked out into the food court. 

He needed to find an excuse to buy lingerie from you... if only to have a reason to see you again that day. 

———

It was late afternoon before he got his first break and darted into the lingerie store to the shock and horror of the women inside. He hip-checked a table displaying hosiery before he stopped in front of you, smiling expectantly. 

You put down the stockings you were folding and looked at him with amusement. “Steve! What can I help you with?”

“Oh, uh… just…” He floundered as he searched for a reason, then remembered your suggestion that morning— buying for a girlfriend. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, before saying the first girl’s name to pop into his head. “Her name is Nancy.”

As soon as your brows furrowed, he knew he fucked up. “Oh, I heard you two broke up, or something.” 

He hesitated, mouth open as he tried to find words to dig himself out of the hole. “Oh… no, not that Nancy. It’s a different Nancy. You probably don’t know her.”

You raised your brows, but said nothing to suggest you doubted him. “I can help you find something. What were you thinking?”

He reached back and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, what would you suggest?”

You considered it for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Well, that depends. Are you buying something she’d like to wear, or something you’d like to see her in?”

Steve blinked dumbly. “Both?”

You laughed lightly and walked towards a table displaying an array of underwear. “So, if you’re going for practical and sexy, I’d recommend panties.” You held up a lacy white pair and his mouth went dry. “A pair like these is pleasing to the eye, but totally invisible underneath clothes.” You stepped back and gave a tiny spin. “I’ve got them on now, and you’d think I wasn’t wearing any. Absolutely no lines at all.” 

Steve swallowed hard. Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t— “Yeah, I’ll take those.” 

You chuckled and grinned. “Well, you’re an easy sell. Do you want the matching bra and garter belt to go with that?” You gestured to the mannequin atop the table. “The set is absolutely stunning when worn all together.”

He hesitated, knowing he had no use for any of this stuff. Still, the vision in his mind of you wearing the set was enough to make blood rush south and all rational thoughts leave his brain.

“I really can’t afford the full set,” he finally said after a synapse successfully fired in his brain. “I’ll just, uh, grab her size then.” You nodded and smiled. He had to pretend like he wasn’t thinking of you wearing this same pair, imagining what size would be closest to yours. He grabbed blindly at the folded pairs and retrieved the first ones his hands touched. 

“I’ll ring you up! I’ll even throw in our gift wrapping just because I like you so much.” You smiled and guided him towards the register, letting him cut the line of women waiting to pay. After he paid, you handed over a white box with a silky red bow and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you both enjoy.” 

————

The box sat on his bedside table— the proverbial elephant in the room. 

God, he thought. You probably thought he was a weird pervert who wanted to wear them or something. Well, he probably would if someone hot enough asked him to, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it out. 

His thoughts wandered as they usually did when it was late and he was home alone with nothing (or no one) to do. That night, though, his thoughts were focused solely on you. 

He thought about the professional pencil skirt you wore, of lace and stockings beneath. He yearned to peel them off of you with his teeth and bury his head between your thighs, tasting all you had to offer him. He wanted your manicured nails tugging on his hair, scratching his scalp as you cried out in pleasure above him.

He groaned, almost involuntarily reaching down to palm himself over his sweats. Talk about pathetic— even the tiniest mental image made him swell with desire. Fucking dry spell. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, bucking into his own grip. Just the lightest pressure made him groan and toss his head back, the expanse of his neck bared. He imagined your pretty mouth pressed against his throat, sucking bruises into his pale skin and felt his cock twitch beneath the confines of his pants.

He was quick to strip off the rest of his clothes, not wanting anything in the way. The dry glide of his hand along his hardening length made him hiss. With clumsy impatience, he reached for the bottle of lube inside of his bedside table, almost empty from solo use, sitting beside a mostly-full box of condoms.

Immediately, the slick sounds of him working his length filled the room— desperate and messy with need. Maybe he could’ve been patient— taken it slower, but he was overcome with lust and a desire for release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels so good— don’t stop, keep goin’ just like that.”

As the words mindlessly slipped past his lips, he knew he was well and truly gone. It was an entirely new level of desperate and horny to dirty talk to the girl you were hot for when she wasn’t even there. 

His free hand was splayed across his chest, just resting against the thatch of chest hair where his heart was pounding just beneath his ribs. As his desperation grew, his hand wandered lower, fondling his balls as his other hand squeezed the base of his shaft. A desperate, feral noise escaped his mouth that he’d never even heard himself make before.

He closed his eyes and he could imagine you pulling him into a dressing room, a wanton look in your gaze as you pulled the thin curtain shut, the only semblance of privacy you could get. You’d smile as you stripped off your clothes, only clad in the skimpy lingerie you’d paid for with your employee discount. 

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, okay?” You’d say as you pulled down his stupid Scoops uniform shorts. “Don’t want to get caught, right?”

He could feel sweat beading at the base of his neck and around his forehead, on his chest, tummy, and thighs. His entire body was burning up as he touched himself, like he was on fire from the inside out. 

He’d waste no time kneeling before you— tugging your stockings and panties down and hiking up your skirt so he could slot himself between your legs and taste you. There were few things Steve loved more than eating pussy. There was something about the taste, smell, the sounds that he could elicit with a few deft movements of his tongue. You’d pull his hair and tilt your head back as moans escaped your lips. 

He worked his length quickly as he imagined eating you out. His head was thrown back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as short pants escaped him. The slick sounds of lube and the slap of his hand at the base of his cock were pornographically loud. He’d have been embarrassed had he not had the house to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Wanna make you cum so bad. Wanna taste you.”  He could only imagine the pretty sounds you’d make as you came, the way you’d tremble as your knees threatened to give out. He’d wait until you couldn’t take anymore before finally relenting, meeting you with a kiss.

Your hands would be soft. He knew this not just by looking at them, but also from the few times you’d put a hand on his arm when you passed by him in the service hallways. He liked thinking about your hands on him, squeezing him just the way he liked. 

“You’re so big, Steve,” you’d say from your knees, peering up at him with big doll eyes. Your hand would glide along his cock— slow, teasing. Your tongue would dart out, kitten-licking his tip before you took him into his mouth entirely.

“Mmm, fuck— feels so good,” Steve cried out, his chest heaving as he continued to work his hand along his cock. “Doin’ so good, taking it all for me. Just like that.”

Steve felt himself nearing his finish and slowed down, practically to a snail's pace to keep from busting early. What was the point of having a sexual fantasy if you finished before getting to the best part? 

He returned his attention to the image of you in his mind. How the drool at the corners of your mouth would drip messily, how your eyes would be wet and glossy as his cock bullied its way into your throat. Your free hand would move to cup his balls, heavy and full for you as you kneaded them in your palm. 

He’d bring you up to him and give you a kiss for good measure— slow and messy like you had all the time in the world. But he’d get impatient, like he was then to just give in and make himself cum. 

He’d press your back against the wall and lift your legs around his waist. You’d still be wet from his mouth, dripping with desire. You’d take him with no resistance at all, just a tight warmth like he belonged there. 

He needed more. Just jerking off wasn’t cutting it. He reached out clumsily with his free hand and grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the bedside table and tore at the silky red ribbon so he could knock the top of the box off. He grabbed the white lace panties from within and groaned at the sight.

“Ah!” He got a full-body shiver the moment he wrapped the lace panties around his cock, the fabric soft against his flushed length. They wrap around the head as he sets a fast pace, imagining that they’re yours— the same pair you’d been wearing that day. 

“Fuck,” he cried out, bucking up into his fist and the lace. “Holy shit, ‘m cumming. Fuck— fuck—“ He came with a shout, his spend soaking through the white lace, sticky on his hands and dripping down his shaft, pooling at the base. 

His breath came in soft pants as he came down, his cock still twitching weakly, rivulets of cum dripping from the slit. “Goddamn,” was all he could manage as he laid limp against his pillows. 

He’d made a mess, not just of himself, but of the lace panties he’d spent a day’s paycheck on. He grimaced at the sight of them, completely soiled from his exploits. With more effort than he even felt capable of, he sat up and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of his room. 

Afterward, he looked down at himself— the mess of cum and lube left behind. He stood and stretched on slightly weak legs and went to wash off. He’d deal with the shame of it all tomorrow.

————

You were smiling at customers when he came in for his shift the next day, feeling sensitive from the second round he’d put himself through in the shower the previous night… and the quick session he’d had in the morning. 

Part of him felt like a perv for thinking about you like that, but then you looked up, saw him, and smiled… and he felt the wariness wash away like it was nothing. 

At lunch, he walked into the store, which was far less crowded than it had been the day prior. You saw him and approached with a casual confidence that made him want to crumble to his knees. 

“Hi, Steve! Did Nancy like the gift you got her?”

His brow furrowed. “Nancy? We broke up last year.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No, I meant your new girlfriend. The other Nancy.”

He swore internally as he nodded. “Right! Yes. She loved them, actually. She wants another pair.”

“Great, just meet me at the register when you’re done.” You smiled and departed. Steve couldn’t help but stare at your ass in that tight skirt as you walked away. 

He grabbed two more pairs— black and red— and approached the counter where you stood. You rang him up without further comment and smiled as you passed the bag and receipt over. 

“Come back soon, Steve,” you said with a grin before departing into the back of the store. 

That night as Steve was unpacking the bag, he found a small note written on blank receipt paper. 

“Steve, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to buy lingerie for a fake girlfriend to do it. XO” Beneath it, in clear print was your phone number circled twice. 

Steve grinned, running his thumb over the note. Maybe his dry spell was going to end sooner than he thought.