#Lopsided lil ass

[teaboot]

Please pray for my son.

There's nothing wrong with him, he just looks like a muppet

[cloudcountry]

i just built two lego penguins ive had for years and now my fingers hurt LMAO

[55sturn]

✮ REFLECTIONS

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl!fem!reader

synopsis: in which matt picks up his girlfriend for an evening drive but the sight of her in a tiny white skirt and his favourite shirt has mind reeling and his cock stiffening.

warnings: swearing, nsfw, helmet/mask kink, choking, fingering [ fem rec ], unprotected p in v, slapping, creampie, slight overstimulation, lowkey brat tamer!matt, big dick!matt, mean!matt.

when matt had pulled up into your driveway, the familiar rumble of his modified and muffled exhaust sent shivers down your spine. you fiddled with the edge of your tennis skirt as you waited at the door, despite knowing matt would scold you for wearing a skirt on his bike. you figured that you could make up for wearing a skirt, knowing it drives him insane, by being good for him.

but as you opened the door, matt’s tattoos on display bemeath the sleeve his white shirt, his biceps straining under the seam, all thoughts of being on your best behaviour left your mind. as he pulled his helmet off, you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, greeting him with an innocent smile.

“you look good sweetheart.” his hums, kissing his teeth as his left palm rests against your thighs right under the swell of your ass, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing against your clothed hole, rubbing back and forth over the lace material. his right hand gripping tightly onto his helmet his arm wraps around your waist.

“thank you baby.” you grin, hooking your arms around his neck, your soft blue nails carding through the hair above the nape of his neck, watching as his eyes flutter shut slightly at the feeling of you playing with his hair.

“a little too good, y’gonna distract me.” he chuckles, his eyes boring into yours, the blues of them growing darker the longer he stares at you, his pupils sparkling and dilating, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smirk.

“oops.” you giggle, pressing a gentle kiss to your boyfriend’s lips, humming as he smiles against your lips, no matter what he was feeling in the moment of you kissing him, in any scenario, he could be angry or frustrated toward you, and he’d still smile like a kid in a candy story whenever you kissed him.

“you’re such a lil’ devil, ain’t ya baby?”

“nuh uh, you always say i’m your angel girl.” you pout mockingly, running your hand down his chest before smoothing it back up toward his bicep, lightly squeezing and digging your nails into the flesh.

“you are my angel girl but you’re such a devil when you’re teasing me like this. so mean t’me. but we need to get goin’ if you wanna get to the beach before sunset.”

matt was quick to hand you your helmet, the sleek black fibreglass material covered in stickers from every stop you guys made across the city and state, along with some from boston, matt watching intently to make sure you put yours on before, his hardened eyes softening around the edges as you smile up at him, your cheeks softly squished together, making his heart swell.

in matt’s eyes, you were the most precious thing in his entire world. he was torn between worshipping every inch of your body, and wrecking the hell out of you at every second. the tiny tank tops, the short skirts, the tight, perfectly fitting jeans all drove him crazy. but nothing topped the sight of you in his pink hershey’s shirt, or his pink zip up, paired with his boxers with the waistband rolled a few times and the way it made his heart melt.

but right now, the short white skirt, paired with his harley davidson cut-off with the front of the shirt tucked into the waistband of your skirt, paired with what he was sure what his favourite blue lacy floral thong that he’s had to replace three times, had his cock throbbing behind the confines of his boxers.

“fuck i’ll never get over the sight of you on my bike.” he groans, his head falling back as he watches you perch yourself on the back of his bike, your thighs flattening out, looking so soft and pliable. before climbing on, he was quick to readjust himself, slightly tucking his cock up beneath the waistband of his boxers, hoping to relieve the ache that the sight of you was causing.

after climbing on, he was quick to kick up his kickstand and rev his bike to life, speeding solely to feel your arms wind tightly around him, making him smirk to himself as he whips downs the nearly empty highway, your hands fisting the front of his shirt while your head rests against the space between his prominent shoulder blades.

halfway through the ride to the beach, the thoughts of you sprawled out on his bed beneath him began to override the need to lay out on the sandy beach and skinny dipping and he was quick to switch off into the merging lane heading to his house. you caught onto where he was heading, knowing he had something to else in mind, you were more than happy to just spend time with the love of your life.

you sit silently and patiently, despite knowing you could communicate with matt through the helmet intercom system you two share, but from his body language alone, paired with how he was acting before climbing on his bike, you knew better than to test him. but you couldn’t fight the downturning of your lips as you remove your helmet, watching as matt lifts his visor, his lip tucked beneath his perfect teeth, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“i know you wanted to go to beach sweetheart, i know and i’m so sorry but the sight of you in that skirt has me so hard that i can’t think of anything but fucking you until the only thing you remember is my name. so i promise i will take you to the beach tomorrow but i need you painfully bad.” he hums, watching you squirm on the back of his bike, watching your nose twitch slightly, your eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.

“but i wanted to go now, it’s so nice out.” you whine, looking up at matt imploringly, the sight of you flashing your doe eyes at him has his cock twitching with desperate need.

“i know you did, but-,”

“you just want to get your dick wet.” you sneer, your voice thick with false malice as you squint your eyes at him. matt’s hand is quick to make light contact with your cheek before it wraps around your jaw forcing you to look at him.

“watch your mouth, y/n. don’t act like i didn’t notice the look on your face when i picked you up. i know what you’ve been doing this entire time. you better keep your tone in check or i might make ya hump my bike like a desperate bitch in heat before i even touch you.” matt spits, venom dripping from his tongue with ease as you smirk, your small hand wrapping around his wrist, bringing his hand in front of your mouth, pressing two of his fingers flat on your tongue before closing your mouth around the two digits. matt was quick to tug you off his bike, pulling you to him before looking around the garage, smirking at he spots the hood of the car.

matt’s movements are rough with determination as he pulls you over to the car, pushing you against the hood, moving to slot himself between your slick thighs, while flipping up the edge of your skirt, tugging down your thong down your legs, pocketing the thin lace and dragging his fingers through your arousal dripping from your sopping hole.

the feeling of his fingers brushing against the place you need him most was almost enough to distract you from the fact that matt hadn’t taken off his helmet yet. you open your mouth to speak and matt uses that moment as the perfect option to shove his fingers into you, watching your back arch off the hood of his car, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as he curves them just the right way.

“yeah that’s it doll, get lost in the way i make you feel.” he rasps, thrusting his fingers in and out of your drooling cunt at a perfect mixed speed of slow enough to feel every ridge of his fingerprints and fast enough to have you cannon-balling into your orgasm.

“y-your helmet.” you whimper, a strained moan following your comment as he presses against that spongey spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“m’gonna keep it on so you can see what a pretty mess i make of you.” he chuckles, flipping down his visor, knowing how much it’ll get to you being unable to watch his facial expressions as he fucks you.

“b-but-,” you protest, gasping as matt starts thumbing your clit, his soft grunt as you clench down on his fingers muffled behind his visor and padded helmet, his intention behind his actions growing more and more direct as your orgasm washes over you.

“what was that darlin’? cat got your tongue?” he teases, his voice strained and quiet as you lean into his touch.

you watch pleading eyes as he undoes his belt, ripping it out from the loops of his jeans before tossing it to the floor beside him, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging them and his boxers and letting them down to his his ankles, making quick work of fisting his aching cock. he runs it along the length of your folds, missing your previous arousal and cum with the precum pearling at the angry red of his leaky and desperate cock.

he’s quick to find your tight entrance and sink into you entirely, relishing in the way it feels to bottom out inside of you, making your gummy walls clench down on him, nearly forming to the shape of his cock as you suck him in deeper, the stretch of his sheer size almost too intense to handle, but the pleasure of the burn far more addicting, and it feels too good to push him away. you knew matt had a thick cock, but every time he fucks you, you’re blown away. you’re quick to squeal as he fucks into you, the pleasure of your first orgasm heightening the feeling of every throbbing vein against every ridge of your hole, the lip of the head of his cock catching on that certain spot inside of you.

“fuck doll, y’feel so fucking good, clenchin’ down on me so tight.”

your whine in response, your brain turning off and to mush with each stroke that he pulls out and pushes into you, further driving the primal need to fuck you dumb on the hood of his car. his heart pounds behind his ribcage, the thrill of being buried to the hilt deep in your cunt is the only drug he could live on for the rest of his life. his hand meets your throat, the pad of his thumb resting against your pulse point, feeling that your heart is in the same state as yours. his grip on your throat tightens, causing your eyes to snap open as you moan loudly, your eyes being met with the reflection of you falling apart beneath him, the sight being the second thing pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your second orgasm.

“i feel y’tryna t’milk me for all i’m worth, sweetheart, c’mon, let yourself go dumb on my cock.” matt orders, giving you the final push you need to release all over him, your cum forming a thin, sticky ring around the base of his length as he fucks into you, his own orgasm shooting into you with strong force and a loud grunt as he delivers a few harsh thrusts, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as he fucks his load into you, not wanting any of it going to waste. your whine is music to his ears, despite them being deeply muffled, as he pulls out, watching the mix of your arousals slowly leak out, before pushing it back in with two his of his fingers, making sure it all stays inside your pulsating cunt.

“that’s a good girl, take it all f’me. take everything i give you without complaining.” he hums, quickly ripping off his helmet, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, before pulling away to grab a new, clean cloth from the bucket of cloths he uses to wipe down his motorcycle.

“ya did so good f’me angel. i promise i’ll take you to the beach tomorrow.” he praises, watching the soft, but worn out smile tug at your lips before you nod lightly, the exertion already catching up to your body as exhaustion consumes you.

STARS CORNER this took like three hours to write, i hope y’all like it.

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS OF MY WORK ARE NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[webdollzz]

a/n: me n my best baby @earth222abi were talking about this on tiktok and I js had to form a post 🧘🏻‍♀️

warnings: none, headcanons rly

this man can and will come home with random strays at any given moment. dogs, cats, you name it, hes brought it back to his canal boat. including a "hamster" (it was a fucking mouse)

cat distribution system LOVES him. "don' mind these, they jus' a couple o' squatters" and its 4 cats sleeping on his floor, table, bed and worktop living their best lives. if he doesn't see a "regular" as he calls them, on a boring patrol night he'll search for them in usual places because he's so worried.

I think he permanently adopted a stray blue staffy & he just annoys TF outta that poor dawg cuz he loves it. (like this)

can, will & does send you those tiktoks he gets on his fyp with 2 likes of some old tosser on their 2014 android and says "litch me". also sends those tiktoks where its like "you belong to me😈😈" and he fully is just an absolute dickhead with annoying you. (abi damn near killed me for sending those tiktoks)

BUT if you do it back n call this man kitten or sum fucking shit he WILL stare at you sooooo fed up. "only funny when I do it." alr double standards.

carves your initials into his guitar.

fully steals feminine hygiene products for you if you're afab, binders & chest tape if ur ftm, what u want, this man gets. fuck big businesses and that.

loves when you two wander around town at xmas time when theres all those little stalls up.

he pokes ur waist. everytime he sees an opportunity, done. snorts to himself when you yelp.

....he loves a good bubble bath I'm sorry. being spiderman means having achey muscles all the live long day so if you run him a nice bubble bath this man will love you for the rest of his damn life. (even though he would either way.)

on that subject, he too gangly for a shower, the shower doesn't go high enough so he either hunches or uses his webs to put it higher (and that pisses u off if ur shorter) and his knobbly ahh knees poke out the bath sometimes but he too busy in his world to gaf. (you're sat on the toilet watching him and just giggling ur ass off)

he loves sewing. his "nanny" definitely taught him when he was just a lil geezer which is how he has all his patches and badges on his clothes, he put them on himself! only sews in the way his grandmother showed him to honour her, and refuses point blank to do it any other way, even if they're easier/sturdier. trust in great mrs brown.

loves picking you literal weeds out the ground with some daisies and presenting them like they're a 10/10 bouquet with a FAT lopsided grin on his face.

if you yawn infront of him I feel like sometimes he'll just blow air into your mouth briefly before carrying on with his business. idk. he's just got such annoying older brother energy and I feel like that's js what he'd do.

thanks for coming to my ted talk!

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[aurorawritestoescape]

Hot Shower

Pairing: pre-outbreak/no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

TW: 18+ mdni, smut, oral (f receiving), inappropriate use of a shower head, a lil temperature play, praise kink, Joel calls reader 'baby' and 'sweetheart', unsafe P in V (be safe and wrap it up!), infidelity, cum eating, swearing, multiple orgasms.

Summary: Joel and you enjoy a shower together and then move to the bed.

Word count: 2,5 k

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“Who do we have here?” You hear the familiar raspy voice, and in a flash the shower door is open revealing Joel in his work t-shirt and jeans with a charming lopsided smile on his face. You gasp, feeling a sudden touch of cold air on your wet skin, and out of shyness, you try to cover your naked parts with your hands. Joel smirks at your display of modesty as just this morning you rode him on the kitchen floor, your breasts bouncing, fingers rubbing your clit.

“Started without me, baby? Fuck, so hot outside,” he complains, discarding his clothes hastily and hopping into the shower. You move out of his way, so he can quickly rinse away the heat of the day and his work sweat.

“Somebody’s excited,” you note playfully, biting your lip at the sight of his semi hard cock. Its pinkish head is calling for your mouth and you salivate thinking about swirling your tongue around it. Joel turns to you, noticing your hungry gaze and places his hands on your waist as his dark eyes are leering down your glistening body.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day, sweetheart. Look at you. All wet for me I hope?” he mumbles in your ear. His hand slips down your stomach and his fingers slide between your folds.

“Fuck yeah, someone’s excited,” he repeats your words to you kissing your neck and moving his lips up to your jaw.

You purr as his mouth finds yours, and he shares a scorching kiss with you. His lips glide down, tracing a line from your jaw to your collarbone. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby,” he mumbles as he sucks on the plush of your breasts and returns to your mouth. He devours your mouth again, pinning you to the shower wall. He always runs hot, and you shiver and moan when you feel the cold tile at your back and ass and his body heat at your front. Joel parts away from your lips and hums.

“Wanna cool off?” he asks with mischief in his voice as an idea is formed in his mind. “Ok,” you smile softly and shrug, being confused at what he has in mind. Ogling your water covered frame, Joel takes the shower head off the holder and begins adjusting the water temperature. The drops reach your legs, and you feel it getting cooler. The temperature is still comfortable, but you usually prefer it warmer. And that’s exactly what Joel wants. His hand is gliding along your side as his eyes leer at your breasts.

“Can I play with you, sweetheart? Will you let me?” he asks, moving the shower head up to your chest level and spraying your tits with cool water. “Yeah,” you moan as your nipples perk up with the change of temperature. The cool streams are running down your curves, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He notices the way your body reacts to it, and his cock twitches, “Oh, fuck.” With slightly parted lips Joel is pouring water on your breast, and his mouth darts to the other. You feel his warm tongue swirling around your bud, and the mixture of sensations—cool water and his warm mouth—make your eyes roll back. Your cunt aches with the desire to be stretched and filled by him. You want to be pierced on his cock, so you bite your lip and your hand moves to his stiff member.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whine, sounding as needy as you can to get him inside of you. “Not yet,” he grumbles and kneels in front of you. You lean against the wall, giving him more room. His hand grabs your hip, and he gently kisses your mound. It sends electricity through every cell of your body, and you plant your feet further apart to give him access to your tingling centre. With a free hand, Joel caresses your folds, wet with water and your arousal, and then gently parts them with his thick fingers, exposing you to him completely.

“Look at this sweet pussy. So pretty and tasty. All for me,” he praises you and licks a hot stripe from your entrance to your throbbing clit. Then he raises the shower head and directs the cool water jets to your blooming cunt. You moan loudly, shutting your eyes and tilting your head back resting it on the wall behind you. He slowly moves the head up and down, massaging your folds and clit with the streams and hums at your whimpers with satisfaction. You played with yourself like that before, but him doing it to you, looking up at your trembling form with the carnal desire in his gaze, is so much hotter. Your arousal burns your core and you are dripping, your slick quickly mixing with the water. You drop your head forward, your face contorting with pleasure, and see that he is fidgeting with the faucet again. The water gets a little cooler, and your skin is covered in chills yet again. His big, warm hand glides along your thigh, he grabs it and, lifting it, places it on his broad shoulder. Your hands dart to his head and to the wall to steady yourself.

“Don't worry. I got you, baby,” Joel assures you, holding your body in place with his hand on your hip. Your folds open up to his gaze, and he groans at the sight. He begins peppering kisses along your inner thigh, moving closer to your needy cunt. “Please, Joel,” you whimper, and he glances up to see your pleading eyes.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me,” he cooes at you, his hot breath reaching your folds and making your head spin with desire.

“Want your mouth on me, please.”

“Want me to suck on your clit? Or should I fuck you with my tongue first,” he asks, rubbing your bundle of nerves with a pad of his finger and then slowly circling your entrance. You moan, as his dirty talk makes your walls clench around nothing and you run your fingers through his wet hair. Your touch earns as another groan from him, and he finally gives you what you want. He begins making out with your cunt, licking and sucking on it. Your loud whimpers and his grunts, stifled by your pussy, fill the bathroom. You begin grinding your hips to make yourself cum on his mouth, but he stills you with his strong hand and pushes you to the wall.

“You cum when I tell you, baby. Don’t be greedy,” he rumbles as his hand picks up the shower head again and directs the stream at your soaked cunt. His other hand is splayed on your stomach, keeping you steady. The water is cool, and you jerk, feeling it on your warm, puffy lips and throbbing clit. “Aaahh, make it warmer, Joel,” you whimper, chewing on your lower lip. His ears are deaf to your complaints and his mouth joins the water in pleasuring you, his hot tongue poking into your entrance with a steady pace. The water runs down his face and your heart swells with admiration of his pronounced nose and long wet lashes. The sensation of cool water streams massaging your clit and him fucking you with his hot muscle makes your core tighten, and a new wave of slick covers his mouth, the streams quickly washing it away. He laps it up greedily and continues plunging his tongue inside you. "Gonna cum... Don’t stop,” you mewl, grabbing his wet hair and trying not to fall as your legs tremble.

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, parting from you for a moment. Then he quickens the thrusts of his tongue and shakes the shower head from side to side, so the jets are stroking your clit faster. All that sends you over the edge. You cry out Joel’s name as your walls begin flattering, and your cunt clenches around his tongue. You squeal at the sensation of ecstasy coursing through your body, fisting and pulling on his hair, making Joel hiss. He puts the shower head down and rubs your clit, prolonging your orgasm and marveling at the way you are unraveling in front of him. “Good girl,” he praises you, and catches you in his strong arms as you fall to your knees, not being able to stand any longer.

“Did so good for me,” he mutters, getting a towel, and carefully dries your body and hair and then hastily does the same for himself. Through your post orgasmic haze you see his cock still hard and leaking pre cum. But he doesn’t seem to care, all his attention on you at the moment.

Joel wraps you in another dry towel. “Let me warm you up,” he embraces you and plants kisses all over your face. Then he takes you in his arms and carries you to the bed. He puts you down and covers you both with a sheet. Your bodies are glued together in a flash. You’re embracing each other, both on your side, making out slowly and lazily. You’re still coming down from your high, but when you feel his tip poking your stomach, your core buzzes with anticipation again.

All of a sudden, kissing is not enough. His hand rushes down to cup your breast, his mouth finds your nipple and swirls his tongue over it. Your body reacts, the breathing speeds up and a quiet whine escapes your swollen lips. Joel continues sucking on your bud while you are combing his wet hair with your fingers. You hear him groan at your touch and the fire in your core starts to hurt you. The only remedy is his cock.

You throw the blanket off you both, feeling hot as the need to see his cock scorches you from inside. He is already waiting for you, his hard length in his hand. The sight makes you whimper.

“C’mere,” he roars as he grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer to his body. You feel his cock poke into your mound. Joel caresses your butt cheek and squeezes it with his big hand. You hastily lick the palm of your hand, covering it with saliva and wrap it around his throbbing cock. Then you shift your position so his length is between your lips and start grinding on it. You are already wet from your previous orgasm, so his member moves easily, making you both moan. You are certain you can cum this way without him entering you. You desperately want him to feel good, so you spit on your hand again and place your palm on the other side of his cock, imitating your soft and tight channel. He seems to love it. He closes his eyes and groans loudly. His reaction sends a hot pulse through your belly to your cunt and you feel a new surge of wetness seeping out of your hole. You find a steady pace grinding on his cock. Your clit is throbbing, the way it rubs on the tip of his cock pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You are desperate to cum and feel him also getting close. All you need is a little push. Joel senses that. He sees your open mouth, the crease between your eyebrows, beads of sweat along your hairline. All he needs to do is to gently push you over the precipice. He moves his face closer to yours, his wet hair tickling your cheek and his lips at your ear, and whispers so quietly you barely hear it. “Squeeze my cock. Cum for me.” This command is all you’ve been waiting for. You feel all your muscles tighten, the heat in your stomach rises, your back arches and you come hard, white flashes dancing behind your eyelids. You keep grinding on his cock covered with your juices and ride out your orgasm. But it is too much all of a sudden, and overstimulation makes you part from him.

You lie on your back breathing deep, trying to steady your pulse. Joel kisses the side of your neck and you open your arms to him with a silent invitation. He quickly moves on top of you, caging you with his arms. His broad back shields you from the evening sun peeking through the curtains and all the other world. You kiss him and spread your legs so he can get between your thighs. Joel sighs when his tip nudges at your wet entrance. He is desperate to fill you up, and he bottoms out in one swift move. You moan at the intrusion, feeling full as pleasure pools inside you again. The corners of your mouth rise slightly.

He pulls his cock out almost to the tip and then pierces you with it again. He starts fucking you, his thrusts desperate and strong. You know he must be close. His cheek is at your neck rubbing your delicate skin with his stubble. But you don’t care. You wrap your legs around his waist and lift your hips up so he can reach even deeper inside you. He grasps your shoulders with his hands for leverage, pounding into you.

“Fuck, the juiciest pussy,” he mutters his tongue now licking your neck. You feel every vein of his cock dragging along your walls, the weight of his body comforting and overwhelming. Your third orgasm is coming as all your muscles tighten and the heat in your core rises. You come with a breathy moan, your juices soaking his cock. Your cunt makes lewd sounds as he rails you frantically.

“Listen to her! Soaking me up so well,” Joel’s thrusts get unsteady, then he pushes in one last time and freezes over you, pumping his cum deep inside you. You look up at him drinking his pleasure and marveling at his beauty. Joel groans with his eyes closed, body covered in sweat, muscles bulging. He holds his body over you, coming down from his high and your lips meet again, the kiss is your wordless ‘thank you’ to each other. He falls next to you and you turn on your side to look at him. The hunger in your bodies and souls is satisfied, replaced by the content and gratitude. Joel takes you in his arms, his lips gracing your forehead.

“The roof’s almost done,” he tells you as his hand is gliding along your side, “When’s he comin’ back?”

“Monday,” you answer with a sigh.

“‘m gonna miss fuckin’ you in this bed.”

You sigh again and look up at him, “He travels a lot, you won’t have to miss it for long.”

“Good,” he whispers into your temple,”we can try out my bed as well sometimes.”

“I’d love to,” you say tracing circles around his nipple, “I’m glad he hired you. You’re a great contractor, Joel Miller.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he smirks as his hand cups your cheek and he pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!🩵

[lazyjellyfish300]

Hey Jelly! May I request a Drabble for your Fall/Autumn Flufftober event?

It involves Miguel O’Hara and [Reader] [Gender Neutral] experiencing a “haunted house” as part of their date. Miguel would especially be protective of [Reader] throughout the attraction, despite being aware they’re just props and scare actors doing their jobs. While doing so, Miguel is “holding hands” with [Reader] to not lose one another at the house.

SWIFT!! OFC this is such a cute idea 😭😭💕💕 so sorry it took me forever but hey spooky season isn't over til I say so 😁🖤🎃 thank you for requesting 💕

a haunted house with miguel 🏚️🖤🎃

Warnings: xGN!READER , fluff, crack, joking reference to monsterfucking.

Words 1.5k

The shivering bite of October nighttime was starting to get to you, but with Miguel close by, it made the seconds more tolerable as you stood outside the haunted attraction.

Michael Myers' theme music blasted in speakers with green and purple flashing lights, the smoke from the bonfire in front and the chalky smell from the fog machines joined together to make a spooky concoction that filled your nostrils while the distant shrieks from other guests made your stomach twist with the anticipation of what ghoulish tricks awaited you inside.  

"Ready for this?" Your boyfriend, Miguel, asks with his charming lopsided smile, one of his arms around you pulling you into his gray hoodie that blessed you with sandalwood every time he brought you closer. 

You smile at him from where your chin is lightly resting against his chest. "I mean I'm ready, I don't know about you though."

"I'm ready." Miguel answers, raising his eyebrow at a thrift store looking Leatherface targeting a group of 14 year olds with his fake chainsaw. "Seems a little intense." 

"For $80, I sure hope so." You hummed, tsking your teeth, all the while you hoped your phony nonchalantness wasn't betraying you. "They better kill us for that price." 

"Don't say that." Miguel nudges you. "Then I won't know if Melissa was really set up by Teresa and Kim D. or if Teresa was innocent." 

"Oh my God, you're more invested in that freaking show than I am." You fake offense and poke playfully at Miguel's stomach of steel while his hands followed yours, defending against your attacks. "Not even concerned that I'd be dead, just mad your ass can't watch the ending of Real Housewives of New Jersey!"

"Haha, yeahhh cause we'd both be dead, genius." Miguel shakes his head, finally spinning you around and nudging you forward as the line drew closer to the entrance. "They don't have streaming services in heaven." 

"Oh I don't think we're going to heaven, sir." You examine your nails. "I mean, I am, I dunno about you though, it's a lil toasty where you're headed.." 

"Oye, watch your step." Miguel chides as you almost trip over your own feet. 

"Greeeeetings, mortals! Party of two?" The worker dressed as the bride of Frankenstein inquires, fake vampire teeth practically falling out of her mouth. 

"Yeah." Miguel clears his throat as he looks at you sideways. 

The worker goes off on her spiel, 'don't touch the actors and they won't touch you, stay on the designated path, take note of the emergency exits should you need to exit the haunt early but beware there is no reentry upon leaving, most of all be safe, have fun, hope you make it out alive or some sort of painful joke at the end', blah blah blah

Your attention is snapped back to Earth when she gives you and Miguel the green light to go ahead, and the invisible magnets in your hands find and seize one another as you clasped each other's hands in the dark as you sauntered cautiously forward. 

"Having fun already?" Miguel teases. "Your hand is sweaty like you've run a marathon and we're not even two minutes in." 

"Man, shut up, I am not-aaaAAHH!" You jump and cling to Miguel at a loud thump on the wall from one of the actors behind you. 

Miguel chuckles. "This is gonna be a long ride." 

-----

"Oh helllllll nah." 

You start to turn around at the sight of the giant clown sitting in a chair at the end of the dark stuffy hallway holding an axe. 

"Baby, this was your idea." Miguel halted you in your tracks, spinning you around to face the front. 

You gulped as you studied the menace, pinstripes with an eerie grin and all. "That thing is gonna jump, just watch." 

"I'm pretty sure it's stuffed." 

"No, babe, that is a living breathing killer clown from outer space." 

"For the love...just get behind me." Miguel inches down the hallway, his broad back obscuring your view.

"Mig, what's happening? I can't see shit." You turn to your right and at that very moment lock eyes with Chucky, letting out an unholy scream which makes you smack into Miguel which causes him to nearly fall on top of the clown.

The teen underneath the clown mask saw all 15 years of his life flash before his eyes at the 6'9 tank about to crush him, realizing his final thoughts would be that the $7.25 an hour for this gig truly wasn't worth it. 

"Jesus!" Miguel gains his bearings, flustered as he turns to you. "You alright?" 

"Yeah, course I am." You lie. 

Miguel takes your clammy hand again. "Alright this time, don't let go of my hand." 

"Right." 

You two make the rest of your way through the haunted circus, the black light illuminating your clothes with the neon paint splatter on the walls, navigating through the eclectic fun house atmosphere with the unsettling music box tunes blaring overhead. 

Miguel remains stoic for the most part. Although you try to thug it out, every now and then a sudden noise or bang or obnoxious cackle behind you will make you jump. Miguel responds by bringing you closer protectively, cracking a joke to make you feel more at ease. 

"This man thinks he's Pennywise but he's really Krusty the clown." He nods in the direction of another menacing clown with sharp teeth that tries to get all up in your face. You burst out laughing and the guy underneath the mask low-key feels his hopes and dreams get crushed in the same sentence. 

The rest of the haunted house isn't so daunting with your protective boyfriend guiding every step. You get scary dog privilege without even trying, as most of the actors are intimidated by Miguel's large size alone, if not his sarcastic quips everytime they get too close. 

"Welllllllcome to my shop of horrors!" A butcher covered in fake blood with a crazy look in his eyes and a leather apron tries to get you to eat his human brain casserole. 

Miguel looks unimpressed. "I burn water but I can make a lasagna more edible than that." 

You cackle as Miguel leads you away, leaving the butcher equal parts baffled and clutching his invisible pearls. 

---

You come to a part of the haunted house that leads back outdoors, with fog all around you and a werewolf that comes running up to you on all fours, snarling and foaming at the mouth. 

You startle for just a moment then smirk as you turn to Miguel, 

"Hear me out..." 

"Absolutely not." Miguel figures he's gonna have you lay off the dark romance novels for a bit as he drags you away. 

-----

Once you get to the final section with the vampires, your fears have all but disappeared, playing along and smiling when Dracula with his cult of vampire wives waltzes up to you and asks to suck your blood. 

"Just warning you, Vladdy, I'm anemic." You flirt as you take his arm. 

"Alright, that's it." Miguel grumbles as he drags you away yet again. At first you were scared of the monsters, now he has to stop you from banging them. 

"But he's hot, and he has fangs!" You protest, giggling as Dracula dramatically bids you farewell, inviting you back to Transylvania anytime while Miguel carries you to the exit. 

"We have fangs at home." Miguel reminds you with a smirk before flashing his prominent canines at you. You have to stifle a giggle as you lay your head on his chest. 

 ----

"Well that was fun." You cuddle next to Miguel a short time later on the couch in your shared apartment, sighing as you lean forward, using your sweater as heat pads to pick up your mug of hot cocoa while he peruses for a Halloween movie to watch. 

"It was fun." Miguel hums. "But we're not doing it again." 

"Why not?!" 

"I'm not paying nearly a hundred dollars for you to practically leave me for Edward and Jacob from Twilight." 

"Oh my God, you actually got their names right!" 

"In other news, the movie's starting, so..."

"Baby, you're not really jealous are you?" You get closer and plop in his lap, Miguel letting out an overdramatic pained grunt. "Oh, stop it, you." 

Miguel doesn't crack at first, remaining tight-lipped while you shower him with little pecks. "You know I could never leave you, Migs." 

Miguel finally reveals a smile, "Oh, I know, I just like hearing you say it." He pulls the blanket over your shoulders as Coraline begins playing.

"Man, all you had to do was ask!" 

"Ssshhhh....Coraline's on." Miguel winks as he silences you once more. 

"Mhmm, love you too." 

You grin and feel any cold from earlier disappear altogether as Miguel's prescence warms you from the inside out as you watch the movie together, hot chocolate in hand, cookies in the oven, candles lit, all the while the chill of outside remains where it belongs in the October night in Nueva York. 

[madxyy]

anything for munson - eddie munson x fem!reader

| summary: you try to take care of a drunk eddie munson

| warnings: smut-ish, use of y/n once, mention of drinking, eddie being a menace even when he is drunk, friends to lovers, dry humping, kissing, pet names, a little bit of steve x reader, use of she/her, a lil fluff, flirting?

a/n: help.

You told him. No, you warned him. Damn you for giving in and going with him to this stupid party that you didn’t even want to go to in the first place, but dear-old-you loved him too much. All you wanted to do was spend the saturday night in his trailer, learning how to play dnd while the bad horror movies you both picked out roared in the background, glances—that held so much more than a glance—shared across the room, him offering you weed while you declined him but thank him for offering it to you anyways, which then leads him to respond with a dramatic knife to the heart and sad puppy dog eyes that you love oh-so-much. 

But no, now you’re stuck dragging drunk Eddie to his room while one of your arms is circled around his waist and the other one holding his hand that is resting on your shoulder. 

Damn Steve for challenging him to a keg stand, steve was already 4 shots in when he stumbled in your conversation, basically headlocking him, “hey munson,” he slurred “I bet I can beat your cult-loving-freak ass to a keg stand, what’d you say?” eddie craned his neck to steve, a sly smirk slowly creeping its way onto his lips “alright pretty boy, what do I get in return?” he scoffs, “you gotta be kidding me munson, you are in MY house, drinking MY beer, eating MY snacks, lounging around in MY kitchen while also getting the chance to flirt with y/n, thanks to me if I must say, so you basically got a whole package deal” you and eddie both tensed up as a tinge of pink overtakes both your faces

“i’m not flirting harrington that’s just my natural charm” he says humorously, steve scoffs 

“yeah sure, and I have a successful love life”  

“still as charming as ever steve even when you’re drunk,” 

His eyes darted to yours–a mischievous look behind those hazel eyes–as he looked at you up and down, slowly walking up towards you “mm only for you baby” he winks “oh well...in that case, let’s take this party upstairs shall we?” giving him a sly smirk. Eddie just watches you two, jaw clenched, eyes set on the way steve is leaning towards you, hands on his chest while you bodaciously bat your eyelashes at him, the way his lips are bitten between his teeth just by looking at you. He knows you and steve always joke around like this and that nothing will ever happen but he can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, even though you are a free woman and can date whoever you want, he just can't help seeing you with anybody else. As soon as steve puts a hand on your waist, Eddie puts a hand on his chest, pushing him off just a little bit rough then he was meaning to, “alright harrington, let’s go” he said in a dark tone, steve gaze switches to you from eddie, blinking at him, “wait wait so just to be clear you know you are getting absolutely nothing in return, right?.”

 He glances back behind you “Damn babe, did a tornado enter my humble abode” he says while dramatically putting a hand towards himself to indicate ‘moi?.’  You pushed down the way the nickname made a blush crept onto your cheeks. “No munson, that would be you and your own drunken recklessness” he snorts. 

You let go of his hand and open his bedroom door, gently laying him on his side. You get up to get a trash can to put on the side of the bed but a hand stops you midway “where you goin’ princess?” he says looking up at you with a lopsided smile. “just going to get a trash can and a cold rag eds” he stares up at you with the most starstruck expression like he can’t believe someone wants to actually take care of him. It pains you. After beats of silence you clear your throat, he sighs “okay”. He reluctantly lets go of your hand, letting the touch of each other's hands linger “I’ll be back” you offer him a soft reassuring smile. 

After you come back and put the trash can on the side of his bed you ask him to hold the rag on his head while you undress him. As you start taking off his shoes and pants “jeez take me on a date first sweetheart” you ignore him as you continue to slide his black pants down his legs.

“Shut up munson, do you want to be sweating balls through the night?”, he gives you a pout that is just too cute, you just want to kiss it off him. 

“Exactly” 

You put the sheets over him and grab the cold rug from his limp hand “Thank god, my hand was exhausted!” you shake your head while giggling. Always one for the dramatics. “Oh no! We cannot let Eddie THE Banished hands go limp, we must save the hand doctor before it’s too late!” he gives you a look “har har har, very funny sweetheart” pride takes over you as you smirk down towards him. You realized, you never REALLY got to observe his features up close like the way his eyes crinkle when he gives you a slight smile, how his eyes are usually a dark shade of brown but right now the lamp on his nightstand is giving them a beautiful hue of caramel, the way his nose is so perfectly curve “Y’know you are very beautiful sweetheart” wait. Shaking your head to get out of your own thoughts, you nervously chuckled. “Eddie, you're drunk.” He rolls his eyes 

“No I mean it, sober and not sober,” softly cupping your cheeks, 

“you are so beautiful. Cross my heart”, you inhale sharply. 

You froze, you couldn't say anything, your mouth was opening and closing but no words were coming out. He laughs. HE LAUGHS?!?!  

“Sweet heart calm down, i’m pretty sure you get told that all the time” he said it so casually it astonished you. The only time someone has ever called you pretty was one of your family members, especially when you were little. The room all of a sudden turned silent. Oh. Oh shit. Realization quickly dawned on him as his eyes bulged out of his head while millions of thoughts raced through his head, ‘people are out of their goddamn mind for not telling you every single day how beautiful you are’, ‘what?!?! who? when? where? and most importantly why?, ’screw them all’, ’how can they not??’. He composed himself and slowly sat up “Well..” clearing his throat as he got closer to you. He looked up at you under his lashes then to your lips, god your lips. He didn’t know he was subconsciously licking his “they should.” You inhaled sharply. All of a sudden you’re aware of how close you two are “Eddie what..” he was still staring at your lips like he was in a trance and couldn’t escape no matter what you did, you even scooted back a little but that just made him scoot closer to you “Eds come o-” you were cut off by a pair of soft lips that made you gasp which to eddie, gave him access to slip his tongue in. You let out a whimper and god eddie swears it was the most beautiful noise he has ever heard. Embarrassed, you hastily disconnect your lips from his, “Eddie, oh my god i'm sorry” you both stare at each other with swollen lips and flushed cheeks “No baby, don’t apologize that was the hottest shit i’ve ever heard” he said breathlessly, before you can utter a response, his lips were on yours again, except this time more aggressive, more passionate, less gentle. 

He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. It was messy, everything about this was messy, sloppy, hands everywhere. His hand was gripping the nape of your neck while the other one was situated on your waist slowly making its way down your thigh. Your arms looped around his head. “Baby” he murmurs “you don’t know how long i've been wanting to do this” you made a sound in the back of your throat as a sign of acknowledgement and nodded. He smiled into the kiss. His thumbs were rubbing back and forth on your thighs, making you subconsciously open them up wider. You started rubbing yourself on his thigh, back and forward, back and forward, until something made you freeze. Something hard touched the side of your thigh. oh Oh? OH You looked up at him breathlessly, guilt automatically taking over-shit-as much as you wanted this to happen, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Eddie holy shit. We really shouldn't have done this. I'm so sorry, i’m supposed to be taking care of you, oh my god, i'm so sorry” you say hastily. He understands, he really does but he can’t help it, you are so captivating that all he can do is smile at you with admiration “I mean…” he says dragging the ‘e.’ “technically you are taking care of me just in a…..unique way.” he smirks, this cocky son of a bitch. You rolled your eyes and giggled as you hit him on the chest “Eds i’m serious” you whispered “I want to do this the right way, when you’re sober”  he gently strokes your cheekbones “I understand sweetheart” You sigh. He connects his forehead with yours. After moments of silence “Do you want to go on a date with me?” asked in the most gentle tone you have ever heard, like the question was made of glass. He looked up at you with a hopeful expression -- like a little kid waiting in line to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas –  which you couldn’t say no to “Of course eds” he smiles up at you with lovesick eyes, before anything else “but we’ll talk more about this in the morning, I don’t think right now is the right time” you say giving him a gentle smile.

He exhales deeply but then nods because you’re right. He is sober for the most part but still a little bit drunk and not in the right mind space. You gently get off him and lay down beside him. Eddies turns to you 

“thanks for taking care of me” 

you smile “i’ll always take care of you munson.” 

His smile extends “goodnight sweetheart”,

you were about to say goodnight until you glanced behind his shoulder and caught the sight of something. Confusion settles in him as you turn him to face the other side of the bed “what are you doing babe” you blinked up at the set of curls facing you, “making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit munson, I put that trash can there for a reason.” The back of his head starts moving as he shakes his head “Damn baby, are you sure that’s the reason? Or Is it because you can’t handle looking at this beautiful, gorgeous, sexy face” rolling your eyes “can it munson or i’ll suffocate you in your sleep” slightly turning his head over his shoulder “I mean I have other ideas of what you can suffocate me with” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice “OH MY GOD” you say as you hit him with a pillow “eddie just go to sleep” he just keep on giggling like it was such a knee slapper. You hit on the arm, “okay okay” he says breathlessly 

“i’ll go to sleep, just for you princess” 

“good.” 

Now he’s the one that can hear the smirk in your voice and all he can do is shake his head as he turns back to the other side of the bed. After a few seconds you scoot closer to his back. Hands cautiously circling around his waist “Is this alright?” you asked softly. He chuckled “Of course” he whispers as his hands engulfs the one holding his waist. “Goodnight eddie”, smiling to himself, “goodnight sweetheart.” 

Maybe going to the party was worth it.

[ectologia]

WATCHING ASMR WITH HAWKS

KEIGO TAKAMI X F!READER

𝐂𝐖 ♱ PROFANITY, EAR LICKING

“You still awake chickadee?”

You wave Keigo off with a grumble, your sleepy, droopy eyes fixated entirely on your phone screen as you observe the various glittery objects being tapped and scratched on.

He scoots himself up behind you ineptly, shimmying his crotch all the way up to your ass until you slot into him like a perfect jigsaw piece, hooking his elbows beneath your armpits, allowing his hands to wander and cuddle with your chest. “What ya’ watching, my little chickpea?”

You give him a barely audible answer, muttering under your breath as you continue to focus on the task at hand. “ ‘smr..”

He chuckles at your reluctance, smooshing his lips into your cheek in a hearty kiss. “You what babes?”

“ASMR.”

“A.. S.. MR?” He echoes back to you, cocking his head in curiosity. “What like where they moan into the mic ‘nd stuff? Bit raunchy for a bedtime story don’t you think angel?”

He snickers to himself as you reprimand him in a weak groan. “No.. They tap on stuff and scratch the microphone and stuff..”

“And stuff.” He chuckles into your shoulder, resting his spiky cheek against the chub of your face, using your head as a pillow as he watches your screen with a new found interest. You huff as he jabs at the tiny rectangular device every now and again, whispering in to your ear and asking you question upon question. “What’s that?”

“I dunno’ Kei.. just watch it or go away..”

“Awh, you’re so cute when you’re all grumpy and tired.”

His eyes follow your finger as you tap on a new a video, shuffling forward and tuning his ears in to listen.

You don’t catch the way his nose wrinkles and his brow curls at the imagery from behind, sitting up to pivot his head and look at you directly. “Why’s she licking the camera?”

“I dunno’..” All you’re capable of in the moment are deep murmurs and yawns, rubbing your eyes vigorously to blink away your drowsiness.

“Is this some kind of fetish thing?”

Your otherwise half-lidded eyes snap towards him in protest. “Wh — No, no it’s not like that — it’s for the sound!”

He finds your defensiveness entertaining, deciding to start laying it on even thicker. “You sure my little duckling? It’s okay if you’re into that kind of stuff, you know.. I just don’t think soft porn’s the right tone at the moment.” He snickers at you’re stupefied expression. “Maybe tomorrow I can test it out and tongue you down.”

“No!” You puff and turn over, shrugging his large frame off of yours as you set your phone down onto your bedside table. You adjust yourself to sink your heavy head down deeper into the plush dough of your pillow, yanking the blanket over your curled up body, albeit passively.

You both stay like that, laying in silence before Keigo clears his throat to speak up again. “I think I wanna give you a lil’ ASMR right now chickpea.”

You croak as he rolls over, toppling onto you to squeeze your tiny body into his warmth. You’re pleasantly surprised as he begins mouthing gently against your ear. Softly parting his lips and kissing around the curve of it, even adding a subtle breeze as he exhales through his nose while the stubbly pricks of his beard tickle your cheek. You sigh against your pillow, your body growing limp and pliable as he coos against your sensitive ear drums, before something wet and slimy and wiggly begins to worm itself into the small hole, licking about the crevices of your ear with a teasing squelch.

“Keigo!” He laughs as you squeal, your head snapping up to turn to him with a sour expression while you clamp a hand over your ear, wiping at it with your palm.

“You’re not meant to stick your tongue in my ear!”

“It’s an immersive experience baby.” He reasons with a lopsided grin.

[superblysubpar]

siiiiiiiigh, taylor. you're the only one i trust with this and i don't know if you take requests but i'm desperate (like the i'm in pain + aching kind of desperate) for wealthy!steve to take us out on his lil yacht and absolutely rail us off the coast of italy :(

the song: Pineapple Slice by Tove Lo & SG Lewis

warnings: secluded public spot / Sorry I've never been to Italy, my only experience are slutty Joe pics & The Lizzie McGuire movie 🤷‍♀️

He turns his black baseball hat around for better access to your body. His lips skim the seam of your suit, thick fingers messing with the ties on your hips. He squeezes the plump skin, dragging and scratching down your thighs as he pulls the bikini bottom from your body. Your back arches against the leather cushions of the boatseat, hips lifting for him. The sun is blinding white - high in the sky, and the drip of cool ocean water from his hair soothes the sweat coating your body.

You whisper the name of the man you've just met when his nose skims up the inside of your legs, nipping at your thighs as his large hands push them wider for better access.

"Come on honey, need to taste you." The endearment falls easily from his lips despite knowing each other less than 24 hours. This isn't what you thought would be the aftermath of your night out with friends.

Green flashes and purple shimmers as base radiated from your feet into your chest. Sweet drinks and stealing cherries from everyone as you danced and bounced in the Italian club to a song you didn't know. Hips swaying to a good beat and when you turned, you saw him. He's smug, a lopsided smile, a hand running through chestnut hair. A glint in his hazel eyes and the flashes of green overhead illuminate the silver chain, the ring on his middle finger and the watch on his wrist that all scream money. A flirty line about how dancing like you were was dangerous, an offer of buying you bubbly expensive things that taste sweet on your tongue, and hands on your hips as your chests pressed closer, moving to the music together until your lips collided. All ending in an offer of taking you out on his boat tomorrow, a secluded little spot off the coast.

And here you are.

Steve's thumbs spread your lips for him, and his tongue licks a broad stripe through you. Thighs squeezing around his ears, muffling the sounds of the waves crashing into the rocks and the side of the boat. His mouth works lazily but precise as his hands roam under the curve of your ass. Pads of his fingers push into your skin, curvy and thick and he pulls you tighter around him, desperate for more. Tongue licking and swirling around your clit, mouth moving lower as he sucks one of your lips. A moan falls from your parched mouth and your toes curl as a rough wave rocks the boat, adding to the boil bubbling in your stomach.

He brings his attention back to the throbbing nerves, sucking around it and kitten licking with his tongue as a finger nudges at your entrance. One finger easily slips in, a second following and you clench around them as they curl. He finds the spot that has you lifting yourself off the seat. Your fingers tug in his wet locks, chest heaving as you look down at him. Sweat beads down the dip of your breasts as you plead his name, begging to release.

Steve removes himself, shaking his head no. His eyes are taken over by his black pupils, his dark chest hair curls with saltwater and sweat. He shoves the black wet fabric of his swimtrunks low enough to pull his throbbing length out. Your mouth waters at the sight of his muscles flexing as he tugs on himself, somehow getting harder and bigger. Lining the mushroom tip up with your entrance, Steve leans over you. He kisses your lips softly, tongue licking and tracing over your top lip until you sigh. The taste of yourself lingering, mixing with sweet fruit and salt from the ocean water that still clings to his tan and freckled skin.

Breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "I need to be inside you when you cum, pretty girl."

You nod, desperate, your orgasm right on the cusp already and he lets his weight fall against you as he slides into your entrance in a quick and powerful thrust. Your cry against his lips has him squeezing at every ounce of your skin he can find. Lips drifting and pressing sweet kisses to your neck that contrast with the quick and sharp movements of his hips slapping against yours.

"Oh, fuck," your lashes are wet with tears at the ache in your gut, "Steve, I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah?" He's breathless, groaning as your fingers scratch up his back.

The weight of his chest against yours is somehow comforting, and the pressure and graze of the thick hair at his base hitting the perfect spot that has you hanging on the edge of the cliff you've been climbing.

Steve's fingers rub messy circles into your puffy and needy clit, nerves vibrating beneath the pads of his fingers. He attaches his mouth to yours again as you take the jump, freefalling off the ledge until you hit the water. Walls tightening around him, body spasming beneath his. His release follows quickly, throbbing inside of you as he grips at your sides, squeezing and breathing your name into your parted lips.

He slows his thrusts, both of you gasping for air. Sounds of the waves return, the sun feels even warmer as the sweat falls off of both of your hot skin.

Steve reaches above your head, grabbing a piece of pineapple and holding it up to your mouth. You stare into each other's eyes, something in your gazes warming for each other as your breathless panting finds a rhythm together. Your lips wrap around the fruit, biting into the pineapple slice. Juice flows into your mouth, sweet and sticky and quenching a thirst you didn't know you had. Steve's thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tugging a little meanly until it pops back into place. He brings his thumb up to his lips and sucks the juice free from the skin.

The sun still has half the sky to conquer and you have no where to be other than on a boat off the coast of Italy with a rich boy who has an entire pineapple sliced and ready to feed you with.

---

----

-----

[mcbeetlebeeb]

I'm currently getting into a fandom that isn't homestuck, but I can't turn down a request :3

these will still be headcannons and- uhrm- yea

Gamzee Makara

He is, talking about some mystical shit dude

I think hed appreciate someone who just listens too him blabber

don't ask me why but he'd like to naw on you

not full fledged biting a chunk out of you

I think he's too aware of how sharp his teeth are to go biting down that hard, but yknow

nipping at you gently, but not before he was smothering you in sloppy clown kisses

this is real specific but I think hed have the type of eyes that you can't seem to keep eye contact with

he's just so much taller and just has this lopsided shiteating grin, that shows most of his sharp ass teeth

I'd like to think his eyes are always that half lidded gaze, especially when it's at you

but no intent behind the looks he gives, fuck- probably no thoughts either

lights on no one home

don't get me wrong, he's not dumb,

in the simplest sense hes a big ol airhead

yknow a dingbat, a bit of a scatterbrain

but he's not like- vegetable for a brain dumb as hell

and thats another thing, it's definitely really convincing to probably think that he's yknow, not all there

but it throws you off gaurd x2 when he'd get all close and murmur and mumble certain things too you

he looked like he had a maximum of 3 thoughts floating around in his brain

but here he is, mumbling in a low almost gravely tone, right by your ear

I love to think he's one of those tall people to rest his arm playfully on your head if your shorter, which you most likely are-

can't recall if I mentioned the last time sense I have a rubber ducky keeping track of my memory

but I think hed be cold all the time

not like, bothersomely fridged

but enough to make you shiver and squirm if he were to press his hand to your skin, noticeable enough for you to verbally go "Damn-"

also!! I think hed be a huge sucker for you just holding his face with your hands, letting him relax against you, eyes shut

still grinning a bit and letting that low rumbling purr come from him

and this also means playing with his hair,

pet him damn it he demands it

no, not really more like laying and being in your space, following you round until you pay attention properly too him

sense most trolls can't- yknow- go out in the middle of the day because of their intense asf sun, trolls are nocturnal

so like if you ever took a photo with him with flash his eyes would do that reflective thing that cats have

or for another example, yknow how in the dark the first thing you spot about your black cat is its eyes?

yeah that

like I said in the other headcannon thingy, he's just always lurking and looming, he likes knowing what your doing even if he's not involved

and this comes with him trailing around you like a dog that sees you have food and knows you'll give it too them at some point

wether it be from afar or close, don't assume he's not close by, him being a purple blood im sure he's well aware of how violent trolls can be,

but with you around! oh he can't let you wonder off too far- Alternia's atmosphere is dangerous and the fauna is even more dangerous-

so don't expect to go very far without him trailing behind you

but he'd understand if you explained too him you wanted time too yourself or with somebody else one on one

I dont think hed be a jealous person, maybe a lil possessive! but he's not overbearing with it

he just wants you safe and content, and he wants you too feel that way around him

have a song I think fits his uh? vibe towards? significant other? because 🎉

Dave Strider

mm have I said he's a genuinely a big goof?

but I think that'd be something someone gets right off the bat

maybe

if you can pick up on someone trailing off on tangents of meaningless words that can go on and on without someone actually ever responding

than it's pretty visable

I think itd be pretty adorable though (I know I'm gay, whatever)

like if he were to start talking about something, anything, and you gave a simple short response, he's gonna take that and run with it

especially if he likes you

I think hed definitely be one too stare

but how could you tell? he's always wearing those shades

probably a good reason why he wears them other than ironic purposes

so no one sees what or where or in this case who he's lookin at

constantly staring though, wether it's you having a conversation with you or, you doing something random he's just watching

no actual thoughts id like to say

just observing

watching you be you, do your own natural thing, picking up on the way you talk or gesture at stuff

I cannot urge this enough but I still firmly believe physical touch would be a very special thing too him

it's not impossible or looked down upon too be able to hold his hand or lean against him

but he'd be mentally noting each touch, each expression you make, listening intently too your tone, hoping your doing the same

but with these actions he'd be straight faced as always, but he can feel his hands tremble ever so slightly, he recognizes his heart beat picking up

unfamiliar with these feelings with how they're being presented yknow?

most times he ever feels this way he's in danger

but he knows he couldn't be safer right now, like he wants to believe that, it's not hard for him to believe it

but his body is just hardwired to tense up, clench his jaw and steady the shakey breathing

but being patient and respectful would melt those feelings away really easy I'd like too think

just sitting there and slowly showing affection, brushing thumbs against his knuckles, tracing over fingers

you focus on his hand, flipping it over and thumbing at his vaguely sweaty palm, hand still shaking faintly in your gentle grasp

he'd just stare at you, in disbelief and adoration, and realization that he doesnt need to be poker faced round you

that he doesnt need to put up a front to protect himself, the squishy parts of him he learned to shove away to get along with life

a big sigh of relief to say the least,

but once he realizes he doesn't need to be someone else for you, he can just be him, no expectations or demands, he can rely on someone else for once

you ain't ever gettin rid of him after that, he's not clingy but he's no longer keeping you at arms length, not now, not ever again

AND HE GETS MUSIC THING because he is my favorite right next too the crab man <3

author note: I feel this sucked a big booty buttload but I was already half way done with it when I dubbed it that, so have this anyway!!!

[msookyspooky]

Getting to Know the Ropes

Sub-ish!Bo x GN!Reader • Soft Bondage • Male Shibari • Relationship Established with Reader • BDSM Dynamics • Bo is a Giant Brat • Reader is a 'Gentle' Dom in this and Experienced in Bondage/Rigging

No Word Count / Not Proof Read

TW: Past Abuse Mentioned

"This is fuckin' stupid." He grumbled with a raised brow. Still fully clothed in his coveralls.

"It's to test the waters to see if you like it." You mumbled while gathering the 6mm Bright Red Hemp Rope.

He huffed, "Of what? I'm clothed and it's rope. How exciting can it be? You act like I'm tying you up naked or something...Honestly, that sounds like a much better idea to this."

You sighed and gently rolled your eyes, "Then it's entertainment and practice, okay? Hold still."

He raised his dark brows but sighed. "...I still don't get why you would use dumbass rope instead of straps or tape."

You smirked up at him as you gathered your rope and walked behind him to find the middle of your rope and secure the bite at his shoulder blades. "OR...You can't tie a rope and rely on duct tape and buckles."

"And it works!" He defended. "It works on any plaything I've had including you!...In fact, I don't like your tone. Maybe I should jus' haul your ass down to the room and-"

You jerked the rope lightly to get his attention. "Bo...You promised. Please? Just this one time to see."

He groaned in annoyance. "Fine, whatever ya want I guess... I'll let ya have yer lil rope fun for a short while suga but after that? You're mine. Or if this gets too boring? You're mine...Don't tie up my damn hands either."

You could tell he was a bit antsy even if he hid it well. It's like he was using excuses to not do this and yet he refused to back out. Especially when you told him he was going to be fully clothed and standing and he promised to trust you enough to give it a try...But it was the tiny things. How stiff his shoulders were. How his jaw ticked a bit. How he shifted his weight too often.

You had the rope looped around his neck loosely, bite at his shoulder blades and brought the rope back around front to create a knot at his upper chest.

"Fair enough." You commented, zoned in on where to secure your knots as you strung the rope through the first loop to secure it.

Bo looked down curiously. "...Yer starting there?"

"Uh huh." You mumbled while your hands worked and you controlled your dominant hand over the knot you were tying to make sure it didn't accidentally fling up into his eyes or face. You pulled it and it was fairly loose.

Bo huffed with a smirk. "That's it? That's all the tighter yer gonna make it? You ain't too good at this, sweet stuff."

You just smirked wryly to yourself. "Patience...It'll tighten as we go." Even if you were tempted to tell him he was being a cocky brat you knew he was just trying to act tough when really he was nervous...He didn't have a good relationship with being tied. Not at all. Even with you and you were trying to show him it wasn't all bad.

Hell, you were lucky he even agreed to this in the first place. He trusted you enough or was that desperate to make you happy. He'd never admit it but you knew and it mattered to you.

You made two more knots over his waistline through his clothes. He watched your hands move so fast and effortlessly...He was jealous of your rigging skills he didn't have; relying on sex swings and handcuffs and straps and duct tape all these years but he wasn't telling you that.

"Oh, getting to the main attraction huh?" He muttered with a lopsided grin. You got to the groin through his pants and he gave a nervous chuckle he covered up. He was usually cocky and eager to see you on your knees hands on his bulge but right now with rope and his nerves already run tight he was a bit nervous on the whole...Family Jewel issue.

You chuckled, "Sure am." You created a knot at his pelvis over his coveralls and had two ends of rope. You split the rope and measures it with your hands.

He just stared and watched. "How bout we uh jus' say screw this rope bullshit and go have fun? You're gettin' awful handsy down there, darlin'." You ignored him as you tied a knot about 6 to 8 inches down creating a separation in the rope. "Hey, what are ya doin'?"

"Just making sure it won't hurt you, dear." You commented as you carefully seperated the rope with your hand over his groin so both pieces perfectly cradled around his bulge.

You stood up and brought the rope through his thighs and went behind him.

"I'm tellin' ya. This is dumb as hell. I mean, all it's doing is taking time away from me getting these clothes off and- Ugh!" He grunted as you pulled that rope a bit harshly with a cheeky grin to shut him up.

He stiffened, a bit flushed in the face as that balled up little knot you made nestled perfectly on his taint through his clothes. Wedging up and apply a lot of pressure as it made his coveralls tighten around his growing bulge, cradling his hardening cock and under his balls through his clothes. That knot hitting in a way that stimulated his prostate externally. All while wedging between his cheeks through his pants.

"Jesus, YN!" He nervously chuckled a bit with a breath of air past his lips.

"Oh? Did it finally 'do something'?"

"S-Shut up." He grumbled. "I didn't know it would go between my ass cheeks like that, that's all..."

You giggled to yourself, "Sorry, forgot to mention that."

You connected the two ends of rope to the loop resting on his shoulder blades. However, you didn't create a knot. Instead, you interlaced the two pieces through each side of the loop and pulled gently as it created a triangle in the middle then reached around his barrel chest to bring the rope around front. It was awkward with how big of guy he was but you just turned him and steadied him a bit with your hand on his back other holding the two ends of rope.

He looked down with an uncharacteristically open expression as he felt you guiding him and securing that rope around his body. It wasn't something he experienced often. A gentle hand guiding him.

You got around front and asked him. "You doing okay?" After he was a bit too quiet.

"Huh?...Oh yeah. Yeah, 'm fine." He mumbled under his breath. Watching you intently.

"Good. Good just let me know. Lift your arms for me, okay?"

He did so as you brought each side of rope under his arms...You could see the scars on his wrist as his arms moved out of his sleeve more. He noticed it too and you could tell his mind and fears from his past were working against him.

He cleared his throat a bit. "S-So...Do I gotta keep em up permanently? Or..." He trailed off. Swallowing and flushing. His eyes kept darting to his wrist even when he tried not to.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "Oh no, not at all. Just to secure this rope and anchor it above this other rope here to get tension at the chest...It might tickle." You warned with a smile.

"S' alright. Not ticklish." He gave but lacked his usual cocky grin. Watching your hands as his wheels in his mind were turning.

You brought both pieces under the already formed looping triangle you started with at the front then brought it over and under itself. It vibrated the entire rope and every knot you created over his body. He grunted as it vibrated in a drumming sensation when you pulled the rope through and that knot at his taint and the cradling of his bulge got tighter. Tightening his clothes over it as he lightly sucked air through his teeth.

"Okay?"

He nodded but his mouth slacked a bit and a tint displayed itself on his cheeks and ears. "...'M good." He admitted lightly as you looped it again to let it nestle comfortably at the base of his ribs careful to not let it sit too low and ride up into him. It made his already ample pecks look bigger through his coveralls and created that drumming vibration along his entire body as he grunted.

You smiled. "You can lower your arms now, Bo."

He complied but you noticed he kept them distanced from your hands and his body at an uncomfortable angle as you were looping the remaining rope strands through the pieces in-between each knot at how front creating little diamond shapes. Each time tightening the rope with each pull as he hissed through his teeth at the sensation.

He seemed to not mind the comfortable tighteness, the knot placements pressure at sensitive spots, the light vibration on his body...Yet...He seemed just as tense too.

You stopped and gave him a concerned look. "You ok-"

"I don't want my hands tied, alright?" He blurted out. "I-In fact, get this off. I'm fuckin' serious! Cut the goodamn thing and-"

You let go of the rope and cupped his face. "Hey, hey, hey...It's okay!" You saw the panic in his eyes as the tightening sensation and fear of being completely bound brought him back to a very uncomfortable place. For once, he looked frightened in his blue eyes but hid it with aggression.

"YN! I can't, f-fuck, jus' get it off!" He demanded. His voice raising.

You nodded, going to undo the knots. Having sharp utility scissors on hand in case. "I'm sorry. Thanks for trying this...I was gonna loop it one last time at the groin but it's alright."

He seemed to lesson his breathing as he stopped your hands. "Wait...Ya mean, you ain't gonna tie me up? Ya ain't gonna tie my wrists?"

He gave you a bewildered look. "So...I can take it off myself if I wanted?"

You shook your head. "No. No, this is just a body harness. It doesn't require you being tied up at all."

He just...Stared. Calming down as he looked at you. You were so tempted to hold his wrists out of comfort but too scared to do so.

You nodded, "Yes technically but it's okay-" You went to cut it.

He stopped you, grabbing your hands. Half laughing in relief, "God damn, the fuck didn't ya say so in the first place?!"

You smirked a bit, "So...You want to keep trying it?"

He sighed a bit before getting out a cigarette and nodding, "Still think it's stupid but...Yeah. Yeah, sure."

You gave a knowing smile and adjusted the ropes, tying them off where they were supposed to be. You saw him give tiny glances here and there while taking drags off his cigarette but he remained silent. You wondered if he was embarrassed for freaking out or confused. You knew better than to bring it up. He'd just shut it down. Maybe even get angry at you.

He gazed at himself in the nearest reflective surface and whistled low. "Not bad...Certainly is interesting ain't it?" He smirked, flicking his cigarette.

It was more than interesting. He looked damn hot is what he looked with the ropes tightened over his pecks and ass and bulge. He went to walk and you saw his brow twitch and his breath hitch at how those ropes moved against his nether region.

"...Well?" You smiled nervously.

He smirked and put his cigarette out. "It's...Not s' bad. Different." He mumbled trying to remain in control.

But you? You beamed especially seeing the way he was looking at his reflection. Seeing how his body looked. The subtle ways he shifted his weight.

You smiled and got close to him to take it off and in a rare moment so rare it made you do a double take; he leaned forward with his arm around you and kissed your forehead. "...Yer a good darlin'...You really are..." It was the closest thank you he could give without admitting his weakness. Without admiting he was nervous prior, without getting to soft.

It was all you needed as you hugged him gently. A small smile on his face before he grabbed your ass and nipped your neck. "Now get these damn ropes off me. You had yer fun, now I want mine."

You giggled with a grin. "That's the best part."

"Best part-" His question died in his throat as you undid a knot and he felt that rope drum and vibrate his frame. He tensed, his breath hitched as you smirked at how...Tight that rope was getting near his bulge.

"One knot down..." You used your hand over his chest so when you slid that rope over his chest slowly he felt every silky touch of rope gliding over his chest through his shirt. You pulled it slowly, the vibration strong as you held him close and he shivered at the feeling. "Lots more to go."

[moralesmilesanhour]

if you believe in me - 03

summary: Miles is hiding something from you. wc: ~1500 a/n: Writing this chapter was very enjoyable especially near the end! I think Imma start adding songs to listen to while you read if you want so: Crush on You - Lil' Kim Mrs. Postman - Black Pumas Funkdafied - Da Brat Hop Out the Van - Offset Enjoy <3

prev next

"You do this math shit like it’s nothing," you muttered as you watched Miles solve one of the questions from your calculus homework, using his notebook as a flat surface. “What’s your secret?”

At no point did his pencil slow down as neat calculations flew from it like he was on autopilot. Miles even numbered the steps for you.

 "The numbers just agree with me," he shrugged, circling his answer on your worksheet for emphasis.

You sat behind him on his bed with pages of homework scattered everywhere. When you draped your arms around his shoulders to lean on him, you felt them tense. Your eyebrows creased in concern.

“You good, baby?”

Miles turned his head slightly, amusement playing on his face. 

“That’s a new one.”

“What?”

“ ‘Baby’.”

“You don’t like it?”

You pecked him on the cheek and felt the dimple forming as he smiled. Miles relaxed his shoulders.

“It’s…fine. Thought you’d be a little more creative, though.”

“How about…” you hummed in consideration before taking a glance at Miles’ glasses, which hung from the front of his shirt. “Arthur!”

Unfortunately, your genius was met with complete silence.

“...What?”

“You know, the lil’ aardvark from–”

“I know who Arthur is,” he interrupted. “But why am I him? I don’t follow.”

You fumbled for a moment, having assumed that he would automatically get it.

“Well–Cuz he wears glasses, and all his friends got on his ass for it.”

Miles blinked, remaining unimpressed. You gave up.

“Alright, what about Riley? Like, from ‘The Boondocks’.”

His blank stare remained.

“But what if I take my braids out? Then the joke doesn’t work.”

“Then you’ll be Huey.”

“Come up with somethin’ else.”

You sucked your teeth playfully. “You makin’ this real difficult for no reason. How ‘bout ‘Kilo’?”

His brows knit together. “Who’s ‘Kilo’?”

“Kilo as in kilometers. Because your name…” you trailed off.

You could see the gears turning in his eyes before it finally clicked, and the beginnings of a laugh flashed across his face.

“I’m good, right?” 

“You’re mad corny,” Miles said beneath a giggle, attempting to hide his face behind his palm. “Don’t ever say that shit again.”

“Come on, Kilo is cute!”

He shook his head good-naturedly and held up your worksheet. “Finish your homework.”

You tightened your arms around him and refused to move.

“Uh-uh, you gotta gimme a nickname too, now.”

His back deflated in a sigh. “If I give you one, will you focus?”

“Mhm.”

“Fine, I’ll call you…well, what do you wanna be called–? Ow!”

You pouted, and smacked his left shoulder.

“You gotta come up with it yourself, stupid.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll call you…” Miles turned to face you. His wide eyes scanned your features, searching for something to latch onto. “Elf.”

“Excuse me?”

“You got big ears.”

“Miles, stop playin’ with me–”

“What? There are cool elves. Like Zelda.”

“Call me Zelda, then. That's pretty!”

“That's why I asked you first,” Miles said with a lopsided grin. “I'm not good with nicknames, I rather call you your name name. Now, are you gonna finish this problem?”

You groaned in disappointment before taking the pencil and worksheet from him. 

“Fine. You’re no fun.”

Seeing the problem-solving process on paper at least made the math easier to get through. Soon you were quiet, brows knit together and lips pursed with focus. 

As you worked, Miles watched your twists fall in front of your face each time you tilted your head.

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

The warm light of his desk lamp fell on them at such an angle that the oil that had been used on the strands gave them a soft sheen. 

Without thinking, he reached over to brush one away from your face, making you flinch in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I-uh…” he stuttered, pulling his hand away, “I’m making sure you’re focused.”

You squint. “...Uh-huh.”

Miles looked away awkwardly. “Your hair’s nice.”

“Did ‘em myself,” you replied proudly, and a lightbulb goes off in your head. “Ooh, I could re-do your braids if you ever need fresh ones!”

The boy blinked again, and part of you expected him to outright refuse the offer. But a tiny smile spread across his lips instead.

“I’ll think about it.”

Miles stared at you for a moment, gnawing at his bottom lip like he was hesitating to do something when his phone lit up.

He unlocked it and his brows furrowed; he appeared to be reading something. 

Miles glanced at the time, and his stomach dropped:

9:50. How did it get so late? 

“Fuck,” he breathed, expression darkening. “Mami, I gotta go. It’s late.”

You sat up and checked your own phone with a wince. “Damn. Your mom left a half hour ago.”

Miles stood and took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He said his next words as if they pained him, “Guess we gon’ have to drop you off, then.”

You looked at him warily. “Wait a minute, who’s we?”

-

The worn leather of the car seat made you shift uncomfortably as you sat with your arms crossed. The woody, citrus scent of a cologne that was likely discontinued a decade ago overpowered your senses.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit in the passenger’s seat, Miles?” boomed Uncle Aaron’s deep voice over a Da Brat track turned up too loud.

“I’m good,” Miles called out next to you. “Let’s roll.”

As the engine of the vintage car revved beneath you, you glanced behind you at what was in the trunk. You raised an eyebrow at the tarp that covered…whatever the hell was in there.

Miles didn’t talk about his uncle often, but the murkiness that seeped into his voice and the hardness in his eyes every time he said “my uncle” didn’t exactly endear you to the man. 

“You live a couple blocks from here, right miss?” He addressed you politely.

“She has a name, tío,” his nephew interrupted with a laugh.

“My fault, my fault,” Aaron chuckled. “What’s your name? Maybe I know your folks.”

“Y/N L/N,” you answered. You kept the distaste out of your voice, raising it an octave.

The red traffic light illuminated the man’s long face when he turned to you. 

“L/N,” he pondered the surname, before nodding in recognition. “I went to high school with your momma! She doin’ alright?”

It’s too dark for Aaron to see you press your lips together before answering, “She’s doing fine, thanks for asking.”

“Did every adult within a ten-mile radius go to the same high school?” Miles asked.

“Wasn’t nowhere else to go without moving to Jersey, might as well have.”

Nowhere else to go that they could afford, you added mentally.

The image of the tall, bulky man that appeared on television to announce things once in a while materializes in your mind’s eye. 

His small, bald head is almost engulfed by his hulking boxy figure. Ever since he became mayor, you started seeing more fancy coffee shops pop up, all square and painted white. Nothing ever changed on your side of the pond, though. Your mother always shook her head solemnly when he announced some new project, or budget, or whatever.

Miles shifted in his seat, and the clank of metal from his backpack pulled you away from your thoughts. You turned to him with an amused look.

“What’s in your bag? It sure don’t sound like school books.”

He froze, and an oppressive silence suddenly descended upon the three of you as you quickly realized that you had said something you weren’t supposed to.

He and Aaron shared a quick glance, and you caught an eyebrow raise from the latter. Miles blurted out, “Robotics club stuff. I finish all our competition entries at Unc’s house ‘cuz it’s more space over there.”

You nodded slowly. When he scanned your face for a reaction, you knew you had just been lied to.

“That’s cool,” you replied pleasantly. “You should show me one of your projects sometime!”

Anger simmers in your chest watching him sigh quietly with relief. Barely a week, and he seemed to be proving Tianna right.

An automated voice chimed, “Your destination is on the right.”

The car slowed to a halt as Uncle Aaron pulled over.

“That’s me,” you announce, unbuckling your seatbelt and sliding your bag over your shoulders. 

“Get home safe, Y/N.”

“You too, Mr. Davis. G’night, Miles.”

You don’t look back at him before shutting the car door behind you.

And then there were two.

“I told you to make sure Rio takes her home,” Aaron sighed, massaging his temples.

“I know, I know,” Miles thrust his hands into his pockets. “I lost track of time.”

“Forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck.”

“You think she believe me?”

Aaron looked his nephew in the eye through the rear-view mirror.

“Imma be honest witchu, man, that girl ain’t stupid. She ain’t believe shit you just said.”

“I’m that bad of a liar?”

The man laughed heartily.

“It’s not even about that, man. Can’t lie to your girl. That’s rule number one.”

Miles frowned. “The hell was I supposed to tell her? I had to lie.”

“Exactly. You put yourself in a position to have to lie,” Aaron explained as he began to pull away from your house. “Don’t make it a habit. You ready?”

Miles pulled up the red mask he had on beneath his chin, concealing the lower half of his face. “Born ready.”

[eoieopda]

Namjoon + “sibling’s best friend” except the sibling has been rooting for them to get together for years

combined with your other namjoon request 💕🫶🏻

Namjoon + “stuck in an elevator” bc god of destruction or simply bad luck idm either

the one with namjoon and the u-haul

2024 ETA: long after this was written, the user who requested this drabble admitted that they were a minor masquerading as an adult, violating my explicitly stated boundaries re: minors being prohibited from interacting with me and my content. this user has since been blocked.

ft. jeon!reader, moving day, a mild age gap, jk being a lil shit as usual, and blondejoon 🥵 (cw: claustrophobia / brief depiction of a would-be anxiety attack)

If you ever managed to get your hands on your brother, you might kill him.

Of course, you’d have to find him first — and if your sixteen unanswered calls were any indication, Jeon Jungkook might’ve left this mortal coil already. Unfortunately for you and the rented U-Haul parked outside your apartment building, you needed that evasive little shit and his inhuman stamina.

More importantly, you’d needed him an hour ago when that rental clock started ticking.

The minutes you’d burned up already — firing text after unacknowledged text at your twin — were ones you’d quite literally pay for later in the form of late fees. Jungkook knew this, knew you, knew that your neurotic, Type-A brain had calculated exactly how much time would be needed for the two of you to orchestrate your cross-town move. Just like he knew you were simultaneously too weak to move these boxes yourself; and too poor to shell out for the full-day rental package or professional movers.

And yet, there he wasn’t.

You’d worn crop circles into the carpet already with your relentless pacing. One more step, and the pedometer built into your Apple Watch might give up altogether, explode into a cloud of sparks around your wrist. Worse, it might send out an emergency alert to the nearest mobile crisis unit and get your ass pink-slipped. Maybe, you think, you should try being still for once in your life. 

You hit the brakes so suddenly that the inertia makes you wobble, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let that anxious momentum drop you unceremoniously onto the nearby sofa.

The one was supposed to be loaded up an hour ago.

Not that you’re counting.

Just as soon as you slump with a huff into the cushions, a rhythmic knock at your door yanks you back to your feet. All you see is red as you stagger over a sea of cardboard boxes, wind your way through garment bags, odds and ends to reach the entrance to your apartment. Your hand snaps like a bear trap around the doorknob when you finally clear the obstacle course; and you nearly rip the door off its hinges when your rage propels it open.

The preparatory breath you’d sucked in — gunpowder in your lungs, ready to pop off at your unbelievably tardy brother — instead leaves you in a startled gasp:

“Oh, God.”

Immediately, your face begins to burn with embarrassment. You don’t know what to do with your hands, either; they’re still balled up into fists and ready to swing. Fuck! Sweaty palms! You wipe them furiously on the back pockets of your denim shorts and try to keep the rest of you from liquifying.

“Actually,” comes a surprisingly soft voice from a body so contrary, “It’s pronounced Namjoon.”

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Not that lopsided, tight-lipped smile.

Anything but that.

You, a fool, blurt out the obvious, “You’re not Jungkook.”

Of course, this offering is worthless. The twerp who entered this world three minutes before you was sixty-three minutes late; and his friend — the one you still can’t believe Jungkook manages to keep — was standing in his place. His older, smarter friend, whose massive hands you picture when you —

Kim Namjoon has a laugh that makes less noise the more he means it. Based on the melodic little hiss that erupts in response to your declaration, he finds your buffoonery hilarious.

You are not long for this world, you fear.

“Got me there,” he concedes. Looking up to find him beaming at you, you’re not surprised that staring at his grin — the one that shows all his teeth and makes his eyes crinkle — feels a lot like staring into the sun.

Don’t you dare faint. You’ve survived three years with that face. You can and will be normal about this.

As if that wasn’t enough, Namjoon has the audacity to lay his palm flush against the door jam above your head and lean down and — shit, his biceps just look like that? All the time?

You’re already a puddle at his feet when Namjoon hums, “Heard you needed an extra set of hands.”

You want to ask if he’s psychic — his hands, in any context, are precisely what you need — but you don’t. You clear your throat and throw on your best approximation of nonchalance. Cross your arms over your chest in a way you hope looks casual, tilt your head to the side. 

You raise a single eyebrow before responding, laying it on thick, “So, he lives, huh? Texts you but not his own flesh and blood? Sends his poor hyung as a proxy?”

“I have free will, you know,” Namjoon chides you without any real heat. “And a free afternoon, too.”

He then shrugs his shoulders before pointing over yours. The target he’s acquired sits at the very edge of your peripheral vision, a beast in velvet upholstery. His grin is downright impish when he continues, “Unless your plan is to yeet that couch straight off the balcony, I suspect your options here are limited.”

If you’d been given the opportunity, you’re confident that you may have come up with some witty remark. Instead of ongoing banter, you get a hand on either side of your waist, picking you up and moving your rag doll body out of the doorway. Namjoon smirks as he sets you down, ignores your slacked jaw, and invites himself into your apartment.

On his way to the couch, he spots something that catches his eye. He pauses, bends down towards a laundry basket full of assorted bullshit, and pulls out what can only be described as a cursed object. It’s your most hideous and most beloved possession, having joined you in every major move since you left your parents’ house: a ceramic shelf-sitter in the form of a rooster, the body of which is entirely made of sculpted fruits. 

Namjoon is absolutely baffled by it, open mouth forming a circle as he stares down at his discovery. You should be baffled, you think, it’s God’s ugliest creation. Then, as if the force of his quiet blinking was too much for it to handle, the bunch of bananas composing its tail feathers pops off and promptly falls to the ground.

Horrified, he watches in slow motion as it hits the hardwood below with a thump. You watch as his shoulders sag; unable to tell whether the fond little tug in your chest is based on your weird, broken art, or how completely crushed he looks.

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry!” He gasps, ducking down to grab the runaway appendage. Fuck the bird — it’s him. Then, he mutters directly to the object looking laughably small in his palm, “What’d you do me like that for? Rude as hell.”

Instinctively, you cross to where Namjoon stands in the center of your living room. When you reach him, you feel him brace himself for your reaction; but all you do is bend at the waist, grab a small tube of super glue from that same laundry basket, and hold it up. He glances from your fingers to your face.

“A must-have when you break shit as often as I do,” you chirp. Then, you gesture with your free hand to the basket. His gaze follows and locks onto the small, strawberry knee joint that you’d accidentally severed as you packed. To say that his eyes light up is an understatement.

Namjoon taps at the “made in” sticker on the bottom of the rooster and smirks, “This is what you get for buying American, honestly.”

_____

You didn’t have “spending time with Kim Namjoon” on today’s bingo card, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Lucky for you, he was stronger than your idiot brother and infinitely less frustrating to be around. The pair of you moved around your apartment like you were ballroom dancing; neither of you needing the steps called out to know them. It was easy, it was synchronized, and you didn’t have to beg him to stay on task.

Absolute none of that would be the case if your day had gone as planned.

In thirty minutes’ time, all of your possessions had been loaded into the U-Haul except one: the couch. Due to its bulkiness, you knew it’d be difficult to maneuver despite its relatively light weight.

Namjoon, boasting more brain cells than you by a long-shot, had suggested using the elevator. So long as it was angled properly, he reasoned, the two of you could make it fit without issue. Then, you wouldn’t need to wrangle the first neighbor you came across to help you pivot the blasted thing around every stairwell.

It was a short trip, only four floors, so you’d decided not to explain why you’d taken the stairs for every previous run of boxes.

Maybe you should have, because forty-five minutes have passed since you entered that elevator, and you are swiftly running out of ways to pretend that you’re fine.

From where you sit cross-legged on the elevator floor, you can hardly see Namjoon, who is believed to exist somewhere on the other side of your couch. Every now and then, there’d been a flash of blonde hair next to one of the couch’s arms — proof of life — but he’s more often invisible than not.

You’re okay with that fact, you realize. It means he can’t see the way your anxiety is manifesting only half a meter away from him.

“D’you think this call button even works?” He calls out to you, unknowingly contributing to the cold sweat slicking the small of your back, “I’ve pressed it a hundred times and — as you know — we haven’t been rescued.”

You wonder if you sound as strangled as you feel. Throat tight, you mutter, “Nothing in this building works. ‘S part of why I’m moving.”

Apparently, you do sound as strangled as you feel. You hear shifting in Namjoon’s corner of the elevator, and then you see his face materialize near the bottom of the couch. His eyebrows were initially furrowed, but the concern he carried there migrated. It settles and causes his eyes to widen when they find you.

“You alright?” He asks immediately. Sweetly.

In the grand scheme of things, yes, you would concede that you are — generally — more or less alright. You’ve been in worse places with worse company, and relatively speaking, this isn’t your ultimate nightmare. You’re capable of far greater panic than this.

In this moment, however, in this godforsaken metal box with walls that feel like they’re getting closer by the second, and stale air that gets heavier and heavier when you try to breathe it into your lungs, the walls of which are also getting —

Namjoon answers for you, decidedly but without even a hint of judgement, “You’re not alright.”

There’s more shuffling from the corner. Within a few moments, he manages to wriggle himself into a standing position. With two hands now on the couch’s spine, he glances urgently in your direction. His eyes soften, but you’re distracted by the loose lock of blonde hair that falls over his forehead, over them.

“If I find a way to you, does that make it better or worse?”

Of course, big-brain Kim Namjoon has the sense to ask. Of course, he’s emotionally intelligent enough to realize that joining you in your space could either calm your anxiety, or force it into X-Games mode. Of course, you feel like you’re being hydraulically pressed, so you don’t have the available brain cells to run a proper cost-benefit analysis.

So, you peep, “I — uhh, I don’t know?”

He purses his lips like he’s trying not to smile — because, as you’ve learned, he’s a good fucking person — but you feel a little bit less like you’re actively dying when you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. Taking that gut reaction at face value, you swallow and wordlessly wave him over.

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

The way he grunts softly when he single-handedly pushes the couch further upright would make your whole body clench if it wasn’t already. The same is true of your rapid heart rate and the simmering desire to swoon. Wait — it’s called “fainting” if it’s a medical event, right? Whatever it is, the urge only gets stronger when he slots himself into the tiny bit of space at your side.

“Here — Oh, hang on,” He says, prompting you to look his way.

Your eyes catch him just in time to watch him wipe his hand off on his jeans, then hold it out to you. Without a second thought, you accept it. Squeezing slightly to express your gratitude, you smile and let your joint hands rest against your thigh. Like a shot of clonazepam, he has you calm in an instant.

A few moments of silence pass comfortably. Eventually, when your pulse returns to safety, you tilt your head back against the metal wall behind you and gaze upwards. The ceiling is back where it belongs, no longer inching towards you with the intent to flatten you against the floor. You breathe deeply then sigh out the exhale.

“I’m so glad I’m not trapped in here with Jungkook,” you announce, “If he were here, he’d be jumping up and down to try to get this thing to move, and I’d be nerve-barfing everywhere.”

“Good god,” Namjoon snorts. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s thoroughly amused, not at all grossed out by the picture you’ve painted. You know I’m right, you think.

It’s not clear if he knows you’re watching when his smile turns shy. He says it quietly, like he’s divulging some heavy secret, “Glad I called him off, then.”

You hum in agreement before those words actually register in your distinctly soup-like brain. When they finally do, you tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him in confusion. For the first time in three years, he gets to hear what it sounds like when you buffer in real time:

“Sorry, you — huh?”

The math isn’t adding up. The science isn’t — doing whatever it is that science does. The words? Well, they’re failing you. You’ve got nothing.

Namjoon’s free hand rubs against the back of his neck. He smiles sheepishly, so damn cutely. For a second, he nibbles on his bottom lip before coming clean, “I may have asked Jungkook if I could sub in today.”

No thoughts, head empty, just wide-eyed blinking. It’s all you’re capable of with your stomach doing backflips the way it is.

“He was — umm — more than happy to switch swifts, you know?”

Of course, he was. Jungkook is a brat.

Namjoon chuckles and it’s then that you realize you’d broadcasted your thoughts out loud. He shakes his head as if you hadn’t just spit objective fact out into the elevator. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to follow the plot.

“For being an older brother, Kook’s a surprisingly good wing-man.”

Your jaw drops. Finger raised, you interject immediately, all piss and vinegar. “Joon, he is three minutes older. Don’t you dare give him credit for that. His ego’s already hit the ceiling, and I am not calling him oppa —”

Namjoon purses his lips again. The corner of his mouth ticks upward again. He’s apparently waiting for a response that you haven’t given him, again. Your sentence dies out before you can punctuate it.

Oh. Did you —?

Eyes as big as the moon, you sputter, “Wing man?”

“There you go, champ,” he laughs, affectionately nudging your shoulder with his. “Is that lag one of those twin things people talk about, or —?”

You land a playful smack on his bicep, but let your hand linger. Not unlike the way he’d done twice before, you pinch your lips together and try not to grin like the fool you are. Taking advantage of your pause, Namjoon reaches across his body with his free arm and peels your palm from his bicep. He keeps on holding it and you only melt a little bit.

It takes effort on your part, but you squirm in your spot until you’re able to face him more fully.

“Namjoon, you have to tell me the truth,” you demand. You squint back at him, narrowed eyes emphasizing the dramatic tone you’ve taken. “Did you or did you not break this elevator on purpose?”

He laughs so hard that it’s silent. His heads ducks down, too, until his forehead rests gently against your shoulder. From there, he sighs, “I did not break this elevator on purpose.”

After a pause, he sits back up, handcuffs his gaze to yours, then grins with all his teeth. “I’d be a fool not to capitalize on the opportunity, though.”

You close the distance and kiss him with all you’ve got, cotton-candy sweet and fresh-linen soft. It’s easy — the way it felt when your busy bodies swirled around your living room, never once stumbling — and you swear you hear bells ringing.

Namjoon pulls away breathless. He begins to ask the question, but the gentle lurch of the elevator answers before he can finish.

[morganbritton132]

First, I adore you and your brain. Second, I have a silly little ankle tattoo of a doodle (it’s a lemon man) my sister made and fully love poorly drawn lil things so Eddie’s octopus is my favorite. Third! I picked up crochet during the pandemic (the first bit lmao where I got laid off and super depressed) and it’s so therapeutic when i need to just shut down and focus on one thing because I’m stressed or overwhelmed. I’m working on coasters right now, and god they’re so much easier than the first coaster pattern I tried (that one put me off for a while). I just had a funny thought though, of when Steve gets fully into it and does what a lot of us crafters do and stocks up on yarn for future projects.

I bought a big ass show organizer for all of mine and have to restrict myself to just what fits in there

(Also I’m picturing Eddie in a wonky hat like the one I just tried to make for my sister’s cat but he’s still wearing it super proud)

At the start of the pandemic, I got a new job where I was working half in the office and half from home. I also moved out of my parents’ house so I suddenly alone all the time and to kinda cope with that, I picked up knitting. I originally tried crochet but I just couldn’t get my hands to work right, but I’ve gotten it down (at least enough to do the second row), and I agree with you. It is very therapeutic and I’m happy that it was able to help you through a rough time.

And lol, but all of us crafters are the same because I have a whole shelf dedicated to yarn I bought for future knitting (and now crochet) projects.

It’s not Steve’s intention.

He is just trying this hobby out so he can tell his physical therapist that he gave it a go and it didn’t work. Steve is not crafty or creative like Eddie, so he doesn’t need to buy all this stuff.

But he did need to buy melting chocolate, so he agreed to go when Robin asked if he wanted to go to Michael’s with her. And yeah, maybe he did pick up a new crochet hook but that’s because there’s clearly something wrong with his. What other explanation is there for why he keeps skipping stitches?

And maybe he did get a new skein of yarn, but he’s just being practical. If he’s going to make Eddie a hat than he is going to need a color that compliments Eddie’s complexion, right? He might as well get this blue too. It’s a pretty color and there’s only like, five skeins left. It could disappear forever.

Then he bought a bowl to hold his yarn but it was cute! It was shaped like a sloth. And yeah, he got the yarn winder thing. That’s just practical. And okay, well. Joann’s has magazines with patterns in them so Steve’s going to need that.

And it all kinda just snowballs until, “Babe, what the hell did you buy for a hundred and fifty dollars at Michael’s?”

Steve, surrounded by yarn in each color, “Nothing.”

Also, Eddie absolutely wears anything that Steve makes him. A fan took a picture of him buying cigarettes in a lopsided hat. Another fan took a picture of him at show where his guitar strap has a single crochet chain wrapped around it. There’s a Tiktok where Eddie is pulling his hair up with a crocheted scrunchie.

[manwrre]

i desperately need some rancher or cowboy!billy in my life. i’m talking tall and buff and sososo golden; from the sun-toned ringlets of his hair, to the scars and stretch marks across his arms and hips. i want him slaving on the ranch all day in the heat until he’s freckled just about everywhere.

i want him burning— smoldering eyes and this lopsided grin that promises nothing but white-hot pleasure. and he’s known for wearing his trademark, black leather pants with flaming red stars on the ass because he knows that he’s got it. he knows that they accentuate his thighs and grip his backside just right and drive at least half of the backward town’s population absolutely wild.

he’s also the perfect mixture of foul mouthed and dripping with sugary sweet charm. i mean, on average, he’s just so quick-tongued and crude and cusses just about anyone to tears. but when he really wants it, he drops his voice into this honeyed, little southern drawl and calls everyone ‘sugar’ and ‘doll’. he’s been talking guys and girls outta their drawers for as long as he’s been apart of this rodeo.

and he’s got a temper that he’s inherited from his sonofabitch daddy but attracts everyone because he glitters like his mom’s creek-caught gold. he’s daring too, of course, so he bull rides and sharpshoots and is always up for a bar fight.

i can imagine him and city boy!steve meeting for the first time. like, billy’s all

“lookin’ a lil lost ‘ere, sweetheart. town’s about two miles back that way.” he nods off in the direction that steve’s come from, steadying his horse.

and steve just frowns at his mocking tone, squinting up at him in the summer heat.

“i’m not lost— i’m just looking for the head rancher. have you seen him?”

“whaddaya need him for? ‘stole your girl or somethin’ because we settle that out on the street, not at a man’s job.”

and it honest to god feels like steve’s being toyed with; like billy’s making fun of him. he’s got this pinched look going for him and embarrassment makes him snap,

“you know what, it’s actually none of your business so if you could just point me in his direction, i’ll be outta your hands and on my way.”

and billy’s amusement spreads across his entire face this time; his smile shattering his cheeks, like cracks on a sidewalk. he’s all,

“except, that’s where you’re wrong, doll. you want the ranch hand, well you’ve got his undivided attention,” with this shit-eating grin and yk, just titters.

as you can imagine, steve gapes and catches himself and billy thinks both, “wow, this guy’s an ass” and “he’s cute, in a baby calf kinda way” and unbeknownst to each other, that’s the start of ‘em.

[waratah-moon]

oh my god this sounds soo good

"What were you thinking?" "To be honest, I wasn't" (Eddie does something stupid that puts both your names on every single tabloid in the city)”

“I may be an idiot, but I'm your idiot.” Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Famous!Reader WC: 1.8k Warnings: set in the 90s, alcohol consumption, mentions of Pam & Tommy, lil magazine cover edit at the bottom for vibe purposes only. masterlist / send me a message 💌 / other prompt drabbles

This was not Eddie’s most sober moment. In the process of waiting for their final category to be announced at the 37th Annual Grammy Awards ceremony, he’d downed three Jack and Cokes and taken one too many shots. In his defence, they’d performed their biggest single earlier in the ceremony and he was still chasing the adrenaline high that came from a lengthy round of applause. They’d also won Best Metal Performance; not that he cared about that too much.

Corroded Coffin was no stranger to Grammy awards. They’d won two Grammys the first year they were nominated. One for Best New Artist, which was a shock to everyone as it had never been awarded to a heavy metal band before, and one for Best Metal Performance for their debut album. That had been a years ago. 

Eddie didn’t care about winning awards. To him the fun part was making the music and performing it. The only opinions that mattered to Eddie were those of the fans. And maybe some of his fellow musicians. But in the end the Grammys for the rock and metal categories were ultimately voted on by people who didn’t even understand the genres, so to Eddie their award didn’t matter. But now they were nominated for one of the big categories; Record of The Year. That meant a little more.

He felt you place your hand on his knee, it must have been bouncing because he suddenly felt it still.

“Nervous?” Your voice was quiet beneath the chatter of the theatre, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Never,” he responded, his signature lopsided grin making an appearance on his face.

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I’m always fidgeting.”

“More so than usual,” you took his hand in yours, twisting the silver signet ring you’d bought him for your one year anniversary. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What if we don’t win?”

“I’ll break up with you.” You saw confusion pass over his face and you laughed. “If you don’t win, you don’t win. Doesn’t change anything, Eds. You already have three Grammys, I’m not sure we even have the room for another one.”

“You’re right, the space on the mantel is saved for your Oscar.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest warmed. You went to speak but Garret hushed you as “Record of The Year” flashed on the screen behind the stage. 

Eddie couldn’t breath as he listened to the presenters read out the nominees, his heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. He gripped your hand tightly, his toes fidgeting in his shoes. Suddenly people in the seats around him sprung up, hugging and cheering each other. 

"You did it, baby," Eddie felt you kiss him quickly before Garret blindly led him through the audience.

The band made their way to the stage for the third time that night, energy buzzing around them. Garret thanked the presenters and pushed Eddie in front of the microphone for the acceptance speech. the applause died down as the crowd listened to Eddie speak.

“Uh, wow. To be honest I don’t think any of us know what to say right now. Bands like ours never win this award so none of us were expecting it. Thank you for thinking our music is good,” he went to step away from the mic when Jeff said something to him, pushing him back to centre stage. “Oh shit, yeah. We’d like to thank our manager John, Tim and Suzy at Columbia, and Joel who worked his ass off in the studio.” Eddie’s eyes were hazy but they still managed to find you in the crowd. “Finally I need to thank my favourite girl. My muse. My beautiful wife. This is your song, baby. None of it would be possible without you,” he raised the award in the air while his band members shook his shoulders and clapped him on the back.

The rest of the night was a blur. You ended up at some after party hosted by god knows who, but you spotted some familiar faces. Pamela Anderson was in the corner watching after her brand-new husband as he did the drunken rounds pestering other guests. Eddie had told you he’d never liked Tommy, but you both loved Pam. You left Eddie’s grasp as he chatted away to some producer and headed for the blonde.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” you smile.

“I could say the same for you,” Pam pulls you into a hug which you return with a squeeze. When you pull back she takes your left hand in hers and inspects it. “No ring?”

You frown, “huh?”

“You got married and you didn’t get a ring?”

Your eyes widened. What? “Married? Who said I got married?”

“Eddie… When he… wait,” she blinked, her eyes travelling from Eddie back to you. “He called you his wife in his speech, everyone’s talking about it. Honestly I’m just upset I wasn’t invited.”

You flashed back to the ceremony, trying to remember what Eddie had said but blanking on everything past him calling you his “favourite girl.”

“We didn’t get married. We’re not even engaged,” you tell her. Your eyes wandered over to Eddie who had his arm over Garret’s shoulder and was laughing at something Jeff was saying. You’d been together for three years now with them being the happiest of your life. You had no doubt that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The two of you had talked about your future together before, both of you certain that you had one together, but he hadn’t popped the question. Yet. “Everyone’s talking about it?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m sure everyone will forget about it by tomorrow. Come on, let’s get some drinks, I have to tell you about my wedding.”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

You woke up the next day with a headache and an answering machine full of messages. 

“Bitch you got married?!”

“Sweetie, I’ve spoken with a lawyer and we can get this annulled, please call me back when you get this message.”

“Darling, we need to talk about media strategy, the tabloids are having a field day with the shotgun wedding headline. I can get you on the Tonight Show tomorrow.”

It was past noon when Eddie sleepily entered the kitchen, oblivious to your tense state as you sat at the kitchen counter, hunched over a magazine, a half eaten muffin on the plate beside you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Did you make muffins?” His voice was muffled as his face was pressed into the crook of your neck.

“Nope. Carla dropped them off. Along with this,” you held up the cover of the magazine.

A red carpet picture of you and Eddie was splashed across the cover alongside the title: AMERICA’S SWEETHEART AND ROCK AND ROLL BAD BOY GET HITCHED.

He took the magazine from your hand, holding it closer to his face, “rock and roll? Corroded Coffin is heavy metal.”

You groaned, “that’s what you’ve taken from this? Eddie, everyone thinks we got married.”

He hummed thoughtfully, dropping the tabloid back on the counter. He broke off a piece of your muffin and tossed it in his mouth. “Not that I mind, but why do they think that?”

You spun the barstool around to face him, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “You don’t remember what you said last night, do you?”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, thinking. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, his hair mused from sleep. “No. What did I say?”

“When you won the grammy, after you thanked everyone, you thanked me.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his thumbs stroking the skin of your hips.

“You called me your wife.”

He squinted, trying to force his words to appear in his mind but failing. “Oh.”

“What were you thinking?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t. I was drunk, baby. It must have just slipped out.”

You covered his hands on your hips with yours, eyes wide as you watched his expression. “How does that just slip out, Eds?” He was chewing his lip now, trying to think of a way to defuse the situation. “Do you think of me as your wife?”

“Want me to be honest?”

“‘Course.”

“I love you. Our entire lives are intertwined. In all the important ways, you’re already my wife.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and suddenly your face felt hot. “But you haven’t asked me.”

“Do you wanna get married?” Yes, yes, yes. 

“You have to ask me properly.”

He huffed, dropping his hands from your hips and as he kissed your forehead. “Wait here.”

As Eddie disappeared from the kitchen you allowed yourself a moment to silently scream, fanning your cheeks. You were overwhelmed; too many thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to figure out what on earth was happening. It didn’t help that there was certainly alcohol still buzzing through your system. You swallowed the rest of the coffee that was sitting on the bench and pinched your wrist in an attempt to wake yourself up. Your mind still felt cloudy.

When Eddie finally returned, your eyes fell to his hands; he was fiddling with something small and velvet. “I was planning on doing this somewhere romantic. Maybe the lookout on Mullholand, but that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is you and me.” He knelt down on one knee, opening the small box in his hand to flash a sparkling ring. “Baby, you’re the only person I want to go to sleep with, wake up with, spend my days with. You’re my favourite person. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

“Eds,” you felt your eyes getting wet as you watched the man you loved on his knees before you.

“Will you marry me?”

You were nodding before you got the words out, “yes, of course I will.” Your hands went to his cheeks and you leant down to kiss his lips. 

“Here, put this on before I drop it,” he took your left hand from his cheek, slipping the ring on your finger. You held your hand out, watching as the light bounced off the stone, making it sparkle. It was huge.

“Jesus christ, this weighs a ton.”

“Metal makes money, baby. Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. How long have you been hiding this?”

He pondered the question, “I bought it last year.”

“Last year? We could have been engaged since last year? You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“But now I’m your idiot.”

“You’ve always been my idiot.”

4 months later...

note: Yes, that's JLo's 2000s Ben Afleck ring bc I think it's the height of celebrity extravagant rings lol not my style but sooooo 90s/00s.

taglist: @geekyfifi @livsters @bailey1212@babyfrosty@becca-alexa @munsonology @celestialuna13 @69your-best-night-mare69 @unknowniteminthebaggingarea @micheledawn1975 @neewtmas @silky-luxe @lokis-little-fawn @starrthemushroom @eddies-puppet