#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

[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!🩵

[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.

[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!!!

[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.

[kitkat13001]

KITTY MY BELOVED the holiday event is so cute!!!! could you do ²⁵⁾ badly-wrapped presents with ajax tartaglia childe? :3333 <3

ꨄ︎ 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 | 𝚊𝚓𝚊𝚡 / 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎

you’ve practically been shaking with excitement all morning. keeping a surprise under (quite literal) wraps was never your forte, and apparently neither was wrapping presents. it had taken you a ridiculous amount of time and thought to decide what you wanted to get ajax as a gift — it is your first christmas together after all — and even longer to get the damn thing wrapped, but alas, here it is. 

sure it looks a little janky — tape sticking out every which way, crinkled up wrapping paper, and a lopsided bow — but it was wrapped with love! and it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

you’re wrapped up in scarves and coats, sitting on a bench in liyue harbor where you’d agreed to meet, when there’s a familiar tap on your shoulder. 

you whip around with a grin, swatting at ajax playfully. “i was starting to think you ditched me,” you tease, his present tucked neatly into your side and out of sight.

he scoffs playfully, taking a seat beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. “like i’d ever.”

“so what’d you get me?” you ask with a cheeky smile, nudging his side insistently as you try to peer over where he’s got something under his other arm. 

“you first,” he replies coyly, nodding at the bundle beside you. 

you’re positively beaming when you present him with the gift, so delighted by his responding smile that you don’t even care there’s some mischief behind it. 

“it’s a little funky,” you admit, somewhat bashfully. “wrapping it was harder than i thought. the movies make it look so easy.”

“it’s perfect,” he assures you, taking it from you with careful hands and unwrapping it. his face glows when he unveils it, quick to sweep you up in a tight hug and smother you with obnoxious kisses. you push him away in vain, laughing.

eventually he settles and you clap your hands together, eager for the unveiling of your own gift.

ajax is smug when he presents it, and you gape in horror when he reveals a beautifully wrapped present. silky red wrapping paper, a thick gold ribbon wrapped all around and topped with the perfect bow. 

he laughs when you shove him in the chest. “i can’t believe you made me go first and give you that when you had this for me!” you exclaim.

“it was cute,” he insists. 

“where did you even learn how to do that?” you demand. he shrugs.

“tonia, anthon, and teucer make a huge deal out of christmas every year. i’m not going to half-ass their presents.”

you make cutting eyes at his teasing remark, but he just laughs, making a shooing motion at you. “go on, open it then.”

HI KISA!! i did this instead of my homework 😋 sorry if this reads a lil cheesy, i had to DIG in my notes for the last time i wrote childe. who cares, its christmas! hope its up to snuff but if not feel free to drop another req either way! happy holidays!! love, - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 <3333

event info

[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.

---

----

-----

[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.”

[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

[fatdogboycunt]

Was back on m daily scroll n you awakened sumthin n me…

well, it’s always been there but….:3

Juusss been thinkin bout

Lil bro all cozied up in big bros lap, innocently watching movies in his room- why did he sit there? It was cozy, of course. What other motives would he have? He’s just a little angel, parents think so too. So, no, when he shifts around- pressing his rump against his brother’s crotch, that isn’t on purpose! And when he lets out those airy gasps at the oh-so interesting movie they were watching, it wasn’t because he was trying to rile his brother up..so when his big brother puts his hands on his hips to still him- telling him he’s getting ‘annoying’ and he has to stop or he’ll ’kick him out’ He just smirks, pushing his lil ass down harder with a huff and a condescending, lopsided lil grin.

‘You perv!’

‘Getting like this cos of your lil brother?’

‘So shameless!’

…But he’d still help him out. He loved his big brother after all…<3

M’not the best writer…..

but I like colors….

i’m dubbing you the colorful anon because of this now. it’s so cute how easily you can tell when a text is written with a hand down your pants. bet you had loads of fun thinking about this, maybe even pictured yourself in that little brother circumstance. how shameless! quickly, best come rushing to your big bro’s askbox and tell him all your filthy, degenerate thoughts :) such a sweet boy, i can just feel the neediness radiating in waves from your asks. you should write more! maybe next time we’ll see how well you can type while your brain turns to mush thinking about rutting like a pathetic fucking mutt against your older brother.

[lamamasjamas]

A Very Belated Birthday

Part two to Birthday Surprise! (a cult classic it seems; read this first!)

A/n: This goes out to my thick bootylicious big mama latinas. I was listening to I Don't Know You by The Marias while writing the angst bits. (Also there’s barely any gifs of this man and I’m too damn lazy to make my own.)

Warnings: Smut, Miguel likes dat ass and eats pussy from the back, angst, moms, thick reader (not a warning, a threat 😈), the day after the birthday fracaso, fluff, read first part plessss

The door rings loudly, the knocks make the walls of the apartment shake. You wake with a start and your arm flops beside you, hand roaming and searching for a body next to your own

For a moment your heart drops, then you remember the night before and you fight the urge to groan. With a wipe of your face by the back of your hand you know your eyes were swollen and red. They stung.

You sigh, your mom. You forgot your mom was going to come over for your birthday. Miguel is at attention quickly, having spent the night in the living room with only a spare blanket and a pillow you threw at him before stomping away to bed.

He tosses the folded blankets over the couch after the doorbell rings. He feels rushed as he quickly pulls on a shirt hidden in the corner of the room. He sniffs it and curses under his breath. It was the one he wore a week ago when you just couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom to have his dick stuffed in you.

He opens the door, pushing back his hair and forcing his hands to stop shaking. He realizes now, getting a whiff of your mom’s perfume that he should have gone to the bedroom and told you she was here, carrying Tupperware and bringing a paper bag with a cursive and almost childish in color, Happy Birthday written on the front and back.

“Miguelito.” (lil Miguel)

She hugs him and her lips purse at his presentation, the still there sweat and strong hint of feminine perfume. The very same perfume you managed to stick on him from when you practically smothered him in sloppy and passionate kisses on the couch.

Her voice alerts you of her presence and you rush to change and hide the evidence of what happened the night before. But the door opens and you shove the mess under your sheets still heavily disheveled, your shirt lopsided and your sleep shorts twisted over your waist.

You were going to kill Miguel for telling her to leave her stuff on the counter and go over to the room.

“¡Ay, mi chiquilla!” (Oh, my little girl!)

Miguel stares at you from the door to the bedroom, clad in a loose shirt and sweatpants. You avoid his gaze and he looks down like a kicked puppy, crossing his arms and letting your mother pass through.

She notices.

“¿Que paso?” (What happened?)

You ignore your mother’s question, instead walking over from the bed and wrapping your arms around her.

“Hola, mami.”

She whispers against your ear as she pulls your head down to her shoulder, congratulating you on another year of life as she sways on her feet.

You smile for the first time in hours and give her thanks. She suddenly pushes you at arms length and frowns.

“Te ves más flaca. ¿te da de comer este cabezón?,” she whispers. (You look skinnier. Does this meathead give you anything to eat?)

You chuckle lightly. You were busy, things have been stressful with work and your relationship, life in general.

“Ama, estoy bien, estresada trabajando. Ya sabes…” (I’m fine, just stressed at work. You already know…)

She huffs, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disappointment. Always disappointed when you couldn’t keep up the image of being put together and happy.

“Ponte las pilas…” you could see Miguel’s lips start to quirk up at the phrase, but when your eyes flashed to his form leaned over the doorway his gaze fell to the floor and he coughed into his fist quietly.

Your mother turns to him, her face softens some, polite, gentle, and slightly fake.

“¿Y tú cómo andas? ¿Siempre trabajando, verdad?” (And how are you? Always working, right?)

His eyes flicker to you again. You’ve told her about how he works all night and most of the day. How he’s such a hard worker and wants to succeed and excel in his career. Your mother liked that, you liked that.

But now your eyes cut into his soul and his chest feels as if it’s about to compress into itself. He nods slowly, shifting on his feet as he faces the much smaller and older woman. She has your eyes, almost the same shade that bore into his head to search for his thoughts and sins.

She turns to you momentarily and he catches his breath, wiping the drops of sweat forming above his brow.

“¡Deberías ser más como el, íralo, tiene la forma de atleta y trabaja todo el tiempo!” (You should be more like him, look at him, he has the form of an athlete and he works all the time!)

You hated being compared to others. He knows it gets you heated. Your already sour mood gets even more tangy. Especially now that you knew her words were in fact bullshit, even if she didn’t know it.

His, hopefully if you let him explain, future suegra’s head turns to him again, your arms cross and you roll your eyes. He knew you were on the verge of erupting in either tears or shouts by the way your lip curled downwards.

“Has de tener mucho tiempo para hacer ejercicio.” (You must have so much time to exercise.)

He nods again, albeit slowly. He refused to look in your direction knowing you must have been glaring into his skull.

Technically, he does get a hell of a workout almost every night. Your scowl deepens, you both find the irony in your mother’s words.

He watches as your face becomes blank. So blank that when you passed by him at the door and out of your bedroom, guiding your mother outside, you didn’t even look at him.

All sat at the dining table, your mom gifted you some earrings, ones she wanted to pass onto you. She also brought food, carnitas from the day before. She helped you flip tortillas and Miguel prepared some bolillo.

He starts to sweat as she looks between you both, watching as you both eat in uncomfortable silence.

“¿Que hicieron ayer?” (What did you both do yesterday?)

He purses his lips and you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

Miguel slept on the couch last night, after you had discovered his secret. You had sat up in shock, his mask lifting from his face slowly as he revealed himself to you with pleading eyes.

He said your name softly, lifting himself from the bed as you shifted away quickly. You were mortified, embarrassed and angry.

Your eyes roamed over his body, you realized you should have known it was him. Same shoulders, same waist, same hands, same chest...

“Is this why you ditched me?” you ask shakily.

He will admit, he thought he sounded cool and noble when he said yes. He thought you would forgive him easily if you knew he was a no show because he was technically working to protect the city of Nueva York.

He gets a light and reactive slap for saying yes so confidently. He thought it was deserved by the way he saw you cry directly afterwards, your hand shaking and your mouth wide open from the gasp you let out the second you realized what you’d done.

Of course you would react that way. You just figured out that all of those times he wasn’t there for you, he was there for other people, that whenever you called he must’ve been out beating up criminals instead of answering you.

Also because he just fucked you silly as Spider-Man, acting as if he were a totally different person.

He tried getting closer to you, to hold you as you cried but there was too much that had just been uncovered. You were pinpointing all of the lies he’s told in the relationship, speculating on what else he could have been lying about as well.

After a while you had just stared blankly at him, sitting up in bed as he stood with his head down, constantly combing his hair back and fiddling with the mask in his hand.

His knee sinks into the mattress, his hand lifting to cup your face.

“I don’t want you in my bed, Spider-Man.”

You spit out his name as if it disgusted you. He was Miggy, he was Migue, and at the very least Miguel to you. He didn’t want to be Spider-Man around you.

It seemed as if he failed in that though, because in a moment of anger, after you had felt him lean closer, still in the black and red skin tight suit, you pushed him out of your bedroom, refusing to say a word, refusing to shiver at the feel of his rippling muscles that would usually make you swoon and keen over in a heartbeat.

The last time he saw you that night was when you had come out and stood over him, now out of his suit and in his underwear on the couch.

He was freezing, he always held you for warmth at night, his body suddenly being less capable of trapping heat ever since the incident.

Lyla was scolding him the second he got her back online, like a tiny fairy she bounced from side to side as she came up with ideas to win you back. Idiota, and moron escaping in between her sentences even as her holographic hand tapped his shoulder in consolation.

She faded the second the door to the bedroom opened and she saw your face full of scornful determination. His heart filled with dread at the face she made, her eyes wide and lips pursed as she looked once more in his direction and left.

She may be completely loyal to him but she knew you knew your way around her programming and Miguel’s files.

He sat up and you caught sight of his dick straining in his boxers even if he was soft. You watched the heaves of his chest and the flex of his bicep as he reached out for you desperately, attempting to beg for forgiveness.

“Cerezita, please, just let me explain.”

You swallow thickly and close your eyes, it was dark, dark enough for a normal person to barely catch the way tears were falling from your eyes.

But he wasn’t normal and he saw the trails of liquid on your cheeks so clearly he shot up from his seat and held you close.

For a moment, you lost it. Your arms wrap around him, your face buries itself on his shoulder and you take shaky breaths.

You’ve never had this. Someone you loved so much, someone who’s barely there for you. Someone kind and yet mean, so smart and confident and yet so reserved.

Even if you were crying about him, you still wanted his comfort.

You pushed away slowly, still crying, your lips wobbling as you contained another round of thick hot tears.

You threw the blanket at his chest and left, your socked feet thumping against the hardwood floors of your apartment as you made your way to your bedroom and slammed the door.

…

“We went out to eat,” you lie.

Your mother’s eyes widened, as if she had just remembered. You’ve talked about it with her, how he made plans months before, how you were excited.

She rubs your forearm, her thumb smoothing over your skin in a comforting caress. She smiles at you both and you smile back.

“Bien coda, ni te atreverías si no te invitan.” (You’re so cheap, you wouldn’t dare if you weren’t invited.)

You force yourself to chuckle, because yes, you wouldn’t have, and yes you were cheap. But for a good reason. You didn’t exactly grow up with the privilege to waste money or time for pleasure.

You weren’t used to it.

Her other hand crosses the table and she cups your wrist.

“Te lo mereces,” she smiles. (You deserve it.)

Miguel wanted to bury himself in his own grave. As deep as he could. You did deserve it. You deserved to be treated to a nice dinner with your serious boyfriend. You’ve worked too hard, you’ve been through so much.

And yet he couldn’t make it to a dinner reservation he made himself.

“Thank you, mami,” you say quietly, finishing up your food and standing from your seat.

Your hand trailed over Miguel’s shoulders and squeezed as you passed, making your way to the kitchen sink. He tensed at the sudden soft and affectionate touch.

You started to feel bad for him, you suddenly felt so selfish.

You had a tendency to react harshly at things that made you upset, only for hours or days later to think that you had overreacted.

He was a superhero, he was saving lives. And yet, you were upset at him not making it to eat dinner somewhere only the privileged could eat.

You numbly start washing the dishes, nodding when your mother comes up beside you and kisses your cheek goodbye. The water was running loudly amongst the silence she left you both in as the front door closed.

You almost wanted to pretend you couldn’t hear him lift himself from his seat, call your name and stand next to you. You almost succeeded before he reached into the garbage bin and pulled out the picture you had thrown in anger the night before.

He had fun that day, it was your third date. When he smoothed over the crease of the folded photograph directly over your face he remembered how nervous you had made him.

He remembered how he kissed you for the very first time because you both fell to the icy floor the second you got into the ice rink. Sure, the air was cold, both your cheeks and ears were basically numb and tingling from the chilly wind. But your lips…

They were so warm at that moment. Your hand had cupped his face so sweetly, feeling like slabs of ice on his jaw and cheek but making him shiver pleasantly at the contrast of your mouth and literally everything else.

And now you didn’t even want the memory of it, it was crumpled and distorted, destroyed by new bad memories like yesterday. When he stood you up on your birthday and showed up as someone else afterwards.

He didn’t even notice you had finished washing the dishes and stood with your hip leaning against the sink. Your hands crossed over your chest as if you were protecting yourself.

He places the photograph on the counter, his hand resting there as he stared back at you, his eyes soft and pleading, his shoulders weighed down with guilt. You open your mouth and he wants to close his eyes because this was it, you finally had enough and you were going to end things-

“I’m sorry.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing and confusing you. You imagined his disbelief at your words to be irritation. You look down to his shoulder and focus on where his shirt ended on his neck, a hint of your lipstick still stained on the corner.

“I…” you sigh, your hand coming to rest on his hand hesitantly, as if you were expecting him to swipe it away, “I overreacted-”

He spooked you, his hand twisted up to interlace with your fingers, his other hand coming up to rest at your neck firmly.

“No.”

Your brow furrowed, his thumb tipped your head up with a firm push at your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes and you hesitate, his eyes looked to be burning a deep red.

They were piercing as he narrowed his eyes, the red somehow darkening in his gaze. He could see your confusion.

“Contacts. When my eyes are dry I just wear shades...”

You lean up for a closer look, the hand at your neck slowly moving down your body until it rests at your hip and squeezed.

The stunned expression on your face placates and you step back again, or at least attempted to. His hand at your hip kept you close. Your brows furrowed, you were getting irritated again.

The fact that he could hide the way his eyes weren’t really brown astounded you, it almost broke your heart. This whole time you thought they were a deep chocolate brown.

You pushed down the feeling of resentment for discovering that the shade was a lot closer to burgundy.

You haven’t known the true color of his eyes for two years.

“What you do is important,” you start to apologize again and he rolls his eyes. He grits his teeth and scowls and suddenly his canines were pressing against his bottom lip, the twin points visible now even without his mouth open.

His arm had to wrap around your waist to keep you close, he saw the flash of fear in your eyes.

“Holy sho-“

“They’re venomous, can tear through skin easily.”

Your face twisted in anger and his heart started beating again, he pulled you closer against his chest, making you lose your balance. Your hands fisted his shirt so tightly he swore he could hear thread ripping.

“You kept this from me?” you grit out. He swallows thickly, appreciating the way your chest heaved and your cleavage exposed itself under your shirt.

“Yes.”

Steam would shoot out of your ears if it could. He smiles cheekily, his canines shining in the morning light.

His hand goes up your shirt, you hear the tears before you see them.

Most know about Spider-Man’s powers, the ones that were obvious. His “claws” and talons, super strength and reflexes. Up close the sharpness made you pause.

His fingers tore five holes into your sleep shirt, they were poking through prominently. You shiver as you look down, feeling the back of his hand flex against your breasts.

“Miguel-”

“I’m sorry.”

Your mouth shuts in shock. His hand drags down and tears your shirt into ribbons, you winced when the tips of his fingers crawled over to your back. Luckily for you the claws were retracted by then.

He slumps down against you, his shoulders hunching, his arms wrapping and resting over your hips as his head buries itself in your neck.

He breathes in deeply, his nose pressing against the side of your throat. Your hand slid up his sides, it was as if his knees were buckling underneath him.

His weight made your legs stiffen.

“You know I can’t have a day without breathing you in.”

“What are you-“ You were cut off by his almost whimpered words.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes were sealed shut, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head and pull you in closer, he sniffed and nuzzled, his mouth pressing but not pursing, only wanting to feel your skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He was yearning to feel your anger, to smell the heat of it. Somehow seeing you so defeated had him struggling to breathe. Your sadness tastes acidic, but when he pressed his lips to yours at that moment all he felt was the scalding warmth of them, somehow sweet enough to make him salivate for more.

“You lied to me,” you mumble against his lips.

“I know.” He presses his lips against you again, the tips of his fangs graze over your skin and make it tingle.

Your hands come up to cradle the back of his head as his nose skims over your own. His nostrils flared as they passed over your cheeks, he could smell the incoming tears.

“Do I even know you?”

He shakes his head lightly, not at your question but at the thought of all of the times he’s debated telling you the truth. He thinks it would have been a burden to your already worried mind. He hated the thought of you waiting by the television, wondering if he was going to survive the latest supervillain wanting to take his life.

Each and every time he’s come home late, couldn’t make it to a date or didn’t answer your messages and calls he was making sure he could come back to you, at least as intact as he could be.

“You do know me. I’m Miguel.”

And Miguel was an idiot. He briefly questions how Peter deals with this. How he manages the life of a loving partner while also going out every night as a superhero. It seems impossible.

The tears fell and he knew what he said wasn’t enough. He cupped your face desperately and your eyes were closed tightly, refusing to look him in the eye and refusing to show how weak he made you feel.

You thought he wasn’t showing his true self. He thought that by showing his alter ego he would only reveal how much of a fraud he felt he was.

“You deserve better.”

Somehow that made you angrier, you opened your eyes and looked up at him incredulously.

“I know,” you say sternly.

His eye twitched, that stung.

“But I’m stupid.”

He leaned closer to you, his hands cupping your face and going to coo at you like a child. He had a whole speech at the tip of his tongue, ready to scold you for speaking down on yourself.

Your brows pinched together and your lips twisted into a light scowl.

“You’re stupid too, menso.”

His face falls and he titters in offense before looking down. He deserved it. You sigh.

“Show me…”

The air between you both got hotter the more you stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes brightened a darker red, his sharp teeth exposed themselves, two points pressing against the tips of your fingers as you swiped at his lips and two smaller fangs making his bottom lip plumper.

“Are we… serious? Two years and you haven’t- have you thought about it?”

He mumbled, not fully able to speak clearly.

“Yes…”

He has thought of telling you, but he just knew you would only try to help, you’d be part of unnecessary danger. He had hoped he could keep the life he had no choice but to take on separate from the one with you.

Besides, he had a tendency to lose control, to become ruthless. What if by accident, during one of his failures when he was upset and full of adrenaline you were there? What if you took the brunt of his anger and he lashes out?

“I’m dangerous.”

You shook your head, your hands pulled him close, he had no time to react properly as your lips met his. His fangs weren’t retracted, he wasn’t prepared to be gentle with you, he stood frozen.

You pull away, your face twisted with desperation, your eyes roaming over his face, hand already lifting his shirt up and his sweatpants down.

“Show me- please-“

He kisses you again, hands at your hips lifting you, his legs automatically moving towards the bedroom.

He was finally going to show you.

…

His mouth was devilish, he always has been a fiend for you, but this? This takes the cake. His face was buried in your globes, your waist was being held up by one hand and the other on your cheeks, now being pulled and squeezed apart so that your perfect puffy cunt could be revealed.

Your seam gleamed when he spread you, you held back a moan when the tip of his finger collected some of your slick. He could already taste it on his tongue, even if the tip of his finger was a couple of inches away from his lips.

His palm smacked against your cheek, he watched it jiggle, the fatty mass being squeezed in his hands as he held it tightly afterwards. Your head was buried in your pillow, the soft pillow case now smothered in your drool and tears.

Sometimes he can’t help himself, your body was so pliant this way. His thigh was between your legs, your bare cunt rubbing against his flexing quads as he groped and slapped. You were pulsing against him, his thigh now covered in your sweet slick.

It stung, he could feel the imprint of his hand slightly raise and swell as he caressed and fondled, your slight hiss of pain and the whimper of pleasure getting louder each time he kissed or licked a welt.

He hears the pleasured groan fall between your lips the second he spread you and his nose pressed up against your folds. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of the warmth on both sides of his face.

“Mmmf… mmm…”

Miguel’s tongue did that thing you liked, flicking in rapid repetition in and out of your tight warm hole, occasionally licking too far up and playing with the tight rim above your slit.

You could hear the bed frame creak, his massive form now on his knees, body hunched over to savor as much of your cunt as physically possible.

He wasn’t much of a talker during sex, grunts and groans would flutter in sync with his actions. He considered being buried in your cunt to be a numbing pleasure, his mind blanks and his thoughts suddenly get primal.

Miguel’s hands were rougher than usual, they gripped into your hips bruisingly as your hips ground back into his mouth and tongue.

He had so much drool running down his lips that it accumulated down to your pulsing clit, his bottom lip slightly catching on it as he bobbed his head from side to side and up and down in a trance.

He straightens his back, his mouth leaving you, when you turn slightly his eyes glow, the back of his hand wiping his mouth and chin as his body creates a shadow over you.

He grins.

He liked you like this, ass raised, back slightly arched, your softness so easily squeezable with your tits pressed up against the sheets so that each thrust of his makes your nipples graze below and tighten.

You’ve always been so open. Open about your feelings, your thoughts. You let things slide but you always made sure he knew how you really thought.

Right now, your cunt was being opened up to its limit, his thumb pressing against the tight rim of your asshole as he rutted against your ass.

Your breasts squished and rubbed against the mattress, your forehead pressing harshly against the pillows as his thumb slowly pressed in, his cock was working to ensure you took every hard, veiny inch.

No words were exchanged, you could barely make out his name in a breathy moan, but his stomach clenched at your whines and whimpers, the way your head turned side to side when he stopped your attempt to grind back made his cock pulse.

His hand at your hip stopped you quickly, slowly dragging across your back and pressing down against your spine to make you arch even further.

You loved the stretch.

Your body was cramping, the denial of an orgasm making you curse under your heaving breaths. Who knows how long you’ve been going at it, last time you checked the clock read twelve thirty, you swore through your half lidded eyes you now saw a single two.

You haven’t orgasmed, not even once in the span of all that time.

Your clit was throbbing, his balls were against them, kissing and teasing, plopping into you as he flexes his pelvis forward.

His thumb was gentle, pushing in and out, just barely stretching your tight little hole as he pounded into you.

Each time your cunt squeezed him, he felt your asshole clench with it. The intervals in between were getting closer and closer, Your whines and moans becoming pornographic.

Your words echo in his head, ‘Show me’. He usually let up his strength when he fucked you, making you believe you had the chance to gain the upper hand.

You can’t. Not really, but he thought it was cute letting you think you could. All the times you’ve ridden him, your hand at his chest and “pushing” him down as you straddled his waist were just an illusion of domination.

He could have just as easily pushed you away, held you down as he made his way with you, helped you ease onto his aching cock that he knew you struggled to take each time you were on top of him.

It was jarring to feel with absolute certainty that you were powerless, even after thinking you weren’t. He didn’t let you move, he had you pressed against the bed with your back sliding up and down the sheets, his whole weight on top of you, his forearms barely needing to flex to hold you down as his lips teased over your throat and collarbone.

“So sweet, cerezita.”

He was teasing you, his fangs were grazing over your skin, so sharp they left a slightly uncomfortable line of fire on your skin. It numbed quickly after, but you felt the low pulse and ache of it, throbbing in time with the pulses of your heart.

You were both so close, his skin sweat soaked and yours shimmering in the lowlight of the bedroom. He had closed the blinds, the ones he bought and installed into your bedroom that blocked out all sunlight and lights from the outside once they were fully shut.

Miguel offhandedly explained how his eyes were starting to burn, right before he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist and feel the growing bulge of his erection.

The overhead lights glowed a faint and deep orange, down to its lowest setting. His hair falls into pieces and damp clumps over his forehead and cheeks, his body so close to yours his ear was right up against your cheek and his chest was pressed against yours.

His movements were more sensual, his thrusts slowing and trying to stave off for as long as possible. His pelvis ground against your mound, and his arms at your sides suddenly press under your back, as if he couldn’t be close enough.

He flipped you, his back now against the headboard and your legs spread to accommodate his waist as you sat on top of him.

His hands roamed over your thighs, coming up to cup your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body tensed, Miguel himself was surprised at what he did next.

His fangs were embedded into you, his face buried into your neck as his lips pressed flush onto your skin. The initial prick hurt, making your body react accordingly. Miguel wasn’t sure that your pussy squeezing the life out of him counted as an appropriate reaction though, but he groaned in satisfaction nonetheless.

Then your body slumped slightly, arms coming around his shoulder loosely as you leaned up onto his mouth.

Miguel knew how to control his venom, and he was a scientist, he wanted to test some of his hypotheses on you. It was a small amount, a drop of it and yet you could barely grind your hips anymore.

He licked your wound, now so numb you could barely feel the twin pricks at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You wanted me to show you, didn’t you?”

His thumb flicked over your swollen clit, now throbbing so much that it peaked between your folds. His hand cups your cheeks, squeezing and pulling towards him so that your cunt was stuffed full.

The only thing you could do was look up at him through a haze, mouth open in a perpetual ‘o’ as you let out faint ahs and ohs, moaning helpless against his shoulder.

Your face burned as you orgasmed, heartbeat rising so much it made your head pound in time. You wanted to scream as it ripped right out of you, but your tongue was numb and your jaw slack so it sounded more like a gurgled and desperate high pitched whine.

His head thumped against the headboard harshly, his thighs tensed and his body tightened, you felt lightheaded, a slight ring to your ears that you hated. You could feel him finish inside you, curling your thighs up his sides so that he could take a peek at the clumps of white seep between your folds and gush on his pelvis.

His hand went between your legs.

His thumb swirled over your nub, swollen and hidden between the hood he carefully prodded at to hit the tender center nerve. Your breath hitches, you gasp and he curses under his breath.

“Shocking-mmm.“ He closes his eyes, his throat threatening to close and he almost chokes on his own spit. You were so tight, your cunt still convulsing from your orgasm and his still wandering hand.

“…Puta madre…” he huffed, his body finally relaxing, his softening and yet still filling cock twitching for more as he cockwarmed you. Your head rises from his shoulder, heavy and on the verge of just falling back onto him again.

“La tuya, tonto.”

Your eyes flutter closed, he watches as your head sways back and forth attempting to stay conscious, or at the very least to have control of your body. Your forehead slams against his mouth and he bites his lip because of it, causing him to yell out in pain as you mumbled a quiet and slurred apology against the skin of his neck.

…

In what felt like hours later, your head was lying comfortably on his chest, your fingers pressing under his fingertips and making his claws extend.

“Freaky.”

Your hands graze up his wrist, the spinnerets he had just explained were slightly bulging on his forearm, you press on it and his body tenses, his face flushing and his chest brightening in a deep red. Your fingers quickly find the holes atop his wrist, your fingertips circling over the small contracting rim.

“Cute.”

He took it in stride, pursing his lips as you analyzed his hands and arms, the talons capturing your attention the most. He grazes his hand over it quickly, making it retract as you reach out for it, wanting to feel the extremely sharp structure sticking out of his forearms.

“No.”

You pout, he gives you a sarcastic smile.

“Please-“ “No.”

He frowns, remembering how he shred someone’s arms to spaghetti noodles the second he turned into this new person. Just the thought of him doing the same to you made his heart ache and his stomach turn.

He feels your lips graze against where his talons would protract, he tenses and stares at you wide eyed. You grab his hand and move it to cup your cheek.

“So tense, lighten up, Miggy.”

You sit up, hands on either side of his torso as his hands trails down to hold your hips and he clears his throat.

“I’m…” He swallows thickly, looking into your eyes. You almost get lost in them, the red fitting him perfectly. “…sorry” Your face was suddenly serious and he inhaled sharply.

“For what?” Your eyes narrow, your stare now, unwavering. His throat bobs as he gulps.

“For not telling you about my nightly activities.” He watches you nod, tilting your head for him to continue.

“For… using my Spider-Man charm and seducing you to accept me into your bed.”

You slap his chest and point a menacing finger in his direction. “Volado, cabrón.”

“You liked it-“ “Sht.”

Miguel’s face gets serious again, he starts to frown, feeling the guilt in his stomach swirling.

“I’m sorry, for taking advantage of the situation like that.”

You hum. “And?”

“And… for standing you up on your birthday. You didn’t deserve that. Fue pendejada y lo cage-”

His eyes widened before closing in bliss at your interrupting kiss, soft and sweet.

“Thank you for apologizing… for once.”

He raises a brow, his face lighting up, a smile lifting his lips at the thought that you had finally forg-

“La cagaste, Miggy. De la peor manera posible.” (You fucked up, Miggy. In the worst way possible.)

His face falls. You cup his face lovingly.

“You’re doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom and all of the living spaces, as well as making dinner for two months.”

He groans, his head slumping against the pillows as he squeezes your hips. He was no machista, there was a schedule, equal amount of chores for the both of them.

It was a life of order in the home, just how he liked it. He groans exaggeratedly, his hand moving across his face and pulling down as he frowned.

“Uuuugh, Ok…”

You smile softly and rest your head against him again.

He holds you tightly, both of you staring into nothing, your head on his shoulder and his fingers making slow circles over your spine, the only thing covering you both being the covers.

“Your mom asked if I proposed… while you were doing the dishes.”

He turns slightly to see your reaction. Your eyes widened and you continued to stare up at the ceiling. You were slightly mortified.

“Oh.” “Yeah, oh.”

He chuckles at your pursed lips, the way you attempt to hide your face in embarrassment.

“Told her I haven’t given you the ring yet...”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, your fingers numbing in excitement. The sudden urge to squeal was strong. You take a deep breath in.

“You’re implying several things right now, you know.”

He smirks.

“I am, aren’t I?”

He pinches your arm to make you look up at him. There’s a slight glimmer in your eyes and he smiles at you softly.

“Would you? After everything, with everything?”

The silence was heavy, it was making it so that he couldn’t breathe properly, his face tingled, he has the slight urge to puke. You stare at him with wide eyes, slowly softening at how he got so nervous in the span of a few seconds.

“I would.”

Bright yellow confetti shoots out in the air around you both, Lyla standing over you both holding a noise maker and blowing into it loudly. Miguel covers your body quickly, thinking there was an intruder that he somehow couldn’t sense come into the apartment.

Hermoso Cariño starts playing and Lyla starts singing passionately.

“Lyla!”

She stops, rolling her eyes and looking at him exasperatedly.

“What? I’m following your plan, boss.”

You look up at Miguel, his arms like pillars at your sides and his chest still shielding you protectively. “Plan?” you snort. He winces and cringes, his face contorting in both annoyance and embarrassment.

He looks down at her, his face inches closer to hers.

“You love oldies…”

Your arms curl over his neck, your noses skim as you smile giddily.

“I do.”

“Thought I’d make it special…” He looks to the side and glares at Lyla, still standing over the side of the bed and smiling, she stands proudly dressed in full charro uniform and holds her sombrero in hand. “…after I proposed,” he growls.

She tips her head to the side, catching the frustration of his tone.

“You did propose and she said yes.”

“Lyla-“

“You implied you would and she implied an approval.”

Miguel sighs, faintly hearing your chuckles beneath him. “No, that’s not how engagements work-“

“Sliiiideshow time!”

Miguel shuts up the second he sees you interested on the screen Lyla puts up in front of you, overly cheesy and generic music playing over snapshots Lyla took of you both when you weren’t paying attention.

He just watches you the whole time, smiling along to the memories and watching your smile widen through each slow panned picture and video.

-------------

A/n: Again, if you saw this somewhere else... nuh uh, no ya didn't

@mxtokko :)

[delopsia]

Here’s a rose 🌹 for your bday.

Sending this via pigeon post.

Characters: Rhett, Bob and reader.

Title: Sorry

The smuttier the better if you please 😏

This one was something else 😵 lord have mercy Join my Birthday Bouquet Event! 💐

It's the snap of a whimper that darts across the room—punched from Bobby's throat by a heavy thrust. Bursting past the hands that have clasped over his own mouth. His unfocused eyes flutter, feet stumbling across the floor. 

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Bobby," you coo, mocking. All three of you know full well how thin that wall is—practically a sheet of paper separating you from the small party of friends camped in the living room. 

And this office door doesn't lock. 

Rhett's hips roll in a loose circle. A lazy motion that has Bob's eyes rolling, a shiver visibly jolting up his spine. Even from here, perched on the desk, you can see how wide he's stretched around Rhett's cock, damn near split in two.  

"Feels good, don't it?" Rhett grunts through that upturned, lopsided grin. Downright proud of what he's doing. The way that he's got your WSO falling apart, bent over his own office desk. "Know it does. Can feel your tight lil ass shiverin' 'round me." 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bobby can hardly keep himself quiet, "I didn't mean to—fuck, right there." Dissolving into a mindless babble of your names, his loose hands struggling to stay over his mouth. You know what he was trying to do earlier. Rhett knows it, too. And it's a wonder your quests didn't figure it out, either. 

Subtle teasing has never really been Bob's specialty. 

What was he thinking would happen when he squirmed his ass into Rhett's lap and drew your hand beneath the blanket? Daring to press your palm right against the hard bulge between his legs, blissfully unaware of how anyone could tilt their head and see where your arm was going. 

"You're getting too loud, baby," your warning comes in the form of a whisper, nearly covered up by the soft 'ah, ah, ah's falling off Bob's sweet tongue. 

But Rhett's one step ahead of you. His firm hand pressing into the soft space between Bob's shoulder blades. It's the final straw. Bobby's elbows hit the mahogany tabletop, collapsing forward, his pretty face burying between your legs.