#this is a joke. but it is also real to me

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru is terrible at keeping secrets.

especially when that secret is you finally, after two years of relentless, dramatic, embarrassingly persistent courting, agreeing to be his girlfriend.

he swore up and down he could handle it—“…sure, sure, lowkey, hush-hush, i got you, baby,” he said, practically bouncing in place like the golden retriever he is, his white hair a fluffy mess, bouncing with every nod, bright blue eyes sparkling behind his blindfold—because, yeah, okay, it made sense. things were complicated. it would be messy if people found out too soon.

but also? it was satoru.

it was the lovesick man who has been hopelessly, pathetically down bad for you since the moment he laid eyes on you, and turns out, yeah, he can’t hide shit.

he’s doing the most. failing the most.

he’s staring at you during work like you’re the moon, the stars, the air he breathes, and probably breakfast, lunch, and dinner, too. the kind of gaze that has hearts practically floating out of his head like a bad shoujo manga. his lips tug upward in a soft, lopsided grin every time you so much as sigh. and it doesn’t help that he smiles like an absolute idiot every time you speak—his fingers fiddling with his pen, twirling it with that restless energy, like he’s got nowhere else to look but you. sometimes he props his chin on his hand, elbow on the desk, feet swinging beneath his chair, eyes glimmering with obvious affection. sometimes he kicks his feet, like he’s writing your name in hearts all over his notes.

and when people tease him about it?

“uh…uh…she’s just…” he chokes, rubbing the back of his neck, his white hair falling into his flushed face. his sunglasses slide down his nose as he stammers, his fingers nervously drumming on the table. “she’s cool! yeah! a really… really… cool… coworker!”

uh huh.

people start noticing real fast. the way you bring two drinks into meetings, both his favorite. the way his jacket mysteriously ends up on your chair, like he’s perpetually cold even though he’s not. the way you two walk in separately but somehow always leave together. the way satoru is always hovering two inches behind you like he’s your personal security detail, or maybe just your lovesick guard dog, his long legs struggling to slow his stride to match yours. his glasses slips sometimes, revealing those ridiculously bright eyes trained on you and only you.

and when you whip your head slightly and whisper scoldings under your breath, lips barely moving—"“you’re gonna blow our cover, dumbass”—he just beams, a grin so wide his cheeks push up against his blindfold. his fingers twitch, aching to reach out and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. it’s the kind of smile that could knock the air out of your lungs if you weren’t already holding your breath trying not to combust. he tilts his head like he’s imagining sliding a ring on your finger already, the soft flush on his cheeks betraying how much he’s already too far gone.

it’s not just the staring. it’s the giddiness. the way he forgets to keep his distance when you’re around. the way his shoulders instantly straighten when you walk into the room, like his whole body is magnetized to you. the way his fingers tap against the desk like he can’t wait to talk to you again. the way he fumbles, dropping his pen or knocking over his water bottle, when someone catches him looking at you like you’re his entire universe. it’s the way he instantly brings you snacks he swore were “for everyone” but somehow always end up on your desk, the wrappers piling up as you pretend not to enjoy the attention.

it’s also the way you’re absolutely pissed when you realize he’s blowing the secret wide open. your jaw tightens, your foot taps the floor, your arms cross, and your glare sharpens to a laser beam. you’ve warned him. you’ve scolded him. you’ve threatened to dump him—half-joking, half-very-much-not—if he keeps being so obvious. you press your palm to your temple in frustration as you whisper, "you're killing me here, satoru."

and suddenly, he’s panicking. his hands flail, baby blues orbs widening . his voice cracks, desperate. his fingers clutch the air like he's trying to grab the right words before they scatter.

“no, no, no, babe… please don’t dump me. i’ll do better, i swear. i’ll look less. i’ll… i’ll stare at the wall instead. i’ll wear sunglasses indoors. i’ll look at the floor forever. i’ll… i’ll even switch departments. please, please don’t leave me. i won’t survive it. i’ll just crumble into dust. i’ll haunt you. but like… in a hot way.”

he's clutching his chest dramatically, leaning into the nearest table for support like he’s seconds from collapsing. his bottom lip juts out in a pitiful pout, and his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but knows he can’t—not here, not now. his feet shuffle in place like he’s trying to root himself to the ground, but his whole body screams to be closer to you.

“you’re so bad at this,” you deadpan, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, pretending you’re not melting inside because you’re emotionally constipated and you like to act like you’re not just as whipped. but your ears are pink. you know they are. you can feel the heat blooming across your skin. you shift your weight onto one leg, tapping your finger against your elbow in mock annoyance, but your foot has already inched closer to his.

“but you still love me right?” he pouts, voice softening, tilting his head as he leans closer like a puppy waiting for a treat. his hair flops forward over his blindfold, his grin tentative, hopeful, like he’s staking his entire existence on your next words. his toes point toward you, his shoulders curling in, like you’re his center of gravity.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumble, rolling your eyes, but you’re already reaching for his hand beneath the table, already letting him lace his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking soft circles into your skin like it’s instinct, like it’s home. he squeezes your hand like he never plans to let go.

he brightens instantly, a soundless laugh puffing from his chest, his white hair bouncing with the force of his excitement. his entire body relaxes, his feet kicking slightly under the table. “i’ll be better! i’ll be so sneaky, baby! like a ninja! you won’t even see me coming! i’ll be a ghost! you’ll be so proud of me!”

spoiler: he does not, in fact, get any sneakier.

he gets worse. because now he’s trying so hard to “be sneaky” that he ends up staring harder. he waves at you across the room with a smile that’s way too fond, his hand flopping in a lazy, unmistakable greeting that lingers just a second too long. he trips over his own feet when you so much as glance in his direction, scrambling to play it cool like his heart didn’t just somersault into his throat. he texts you from three desks away: “do you miss me?” like you’re not in the same building, like he hasn’t seen you in five minutes. he sends you selfies from the next room with captions like, “thinking of you” and “missing my girl.”

he's a terrible liar. but he’s the best boyfriend.

so you let him. you let him slip up. you let him look at you like you’re his whole world. you let him wear that stupid grin. you let him love you loudly, even when he’s supposed to be quiet about it. you let him text you unnecessarily, bring you snacks with your name written on the wrapper, and you let him keep leaving his jacket on your chair.

you’re just as hopeless, aren’t you?

[cosycryptid]

Something Real

One movie, one confrontation, and one shared bucket of popcorn makes Eddie start to realise that maybe he never really knew Steve at all—and maybe, just maybe, he wants to. Also on AO3 [Here]

Eddie Munson has been waiting for weeks for this movie to come out.

It’s a low-budget horror flick with a cult following and a killer soundtrack. None of Eddie’s friends were available or particularly interested in going, but that’s fine, he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’s got his overpriced popcorn, a drink the size of his head, and a seat smack in the middle of the theatre. Perfect.

Or it is up until Steve Harrington walks in.

Eddie notices him immediately. It’s hard not to. He’s got that hair, that walk, the tiny moles on his face that make him look soft and a great body. The subject of Eddie’s most hopeless, pathetic high school crush. And of course, he’s not alone. There’s a girl on his arm, pretty in a polished, too perfect kind of way.

He watches, curious despite himself. Steve’s always been a bit of an enigma. Eddie’s heard the stories. King Steve. Heartbreaker. Every bit the stereotypical leader of the jocks, treating women like objects and everyone else like loyal subjects for him to look down on.

But what Eddie sees now doesn’t match up with those stories at all.

Steve opens the door for the girl with a soft, “After you,” and she brushes past him without a word. When she stumbles on the stairs, he catches her gently by the elbow, murmurs an apology for touching her without warning, and offers his arm for balance the rest of the way.

Eddie blinks. Huh.

They settle into their seats two rows down and directly in front of Eddie.

Of course they do.

The movie doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, not even trailers yet, but Eddie’s already more interested in the Steve Harrington Show than whatever’s going to be on screen. He feels like he’s getting a sneak peek behind the scenes into Steve’s world and it’s nothing like he imagined.

They sit. She shivers under the AC, and Steve immediately shrugs off his jacket and offers it to her. Then he offers to switch seats so she’s not directly under the vent.

Surprisingly, Steve’s the perfect gentleman. He asks about her day, offers her popcorn, and laughs at a joke that leans more mean than funny—though Eddie catches the subtle flicker of discomfort in his posture when she’s not looking.

He compliments her hair and outfit, asks what kind of music she’s into, and even admits to liking '70s rock. It’s something Eddie never expected to hear from him but can’t help respecting. It’s the kind of detail that makes Eddie pause, realizing with a jolt that they might have a few songs in common. And that’s unexpectedly disarming.

Steve even double-checks if she’s sure she’s okay with horror movies, offering to see something else if she’s not.

“Why? Are you scared?” she teases.

“Terrified,” Steve replies with a grin. “But I figured if I screamed, you’d protect me.”

Eddie nearly chokes on a kernel of popcorn.

That was smooth. Like, actually smooth. It wasn’t cocky or rehearsed. It was playful and self-aware. The line showed Steve didn’t take himself too seriously, a refreshing contrast to the image-obsessed popular kids Eddie had grown up resenting. He leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to solve a tricky riff. That line might’ve even worked on him. He’s always been a sucker for someone who knows how to be a little silly without losing sincerity.

“Huh,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his seat, suddenly more invested in this pre-show than the actual movie he’s paid to see.

But then the girl leans in, voice low and suggestive. “I didn’t expect you to take me on a date like this. When I said we should watch a movie, I thought we’d grab one from the rental store and watch it at your place. Or, you know… somewhere more private.”

She walks her fingers up his chest in a way that makes Eddie want to gag.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Here we go.

He braces for the shift; the moment Steve drops the nice guy act and becomes the player everyone says he is. The moment he starts acting like the stereotypical meathead jock who only cares about getting girls into bed and out again before they get too attached. God forbid a straight guy have actual emotions or care about someone beyond the surface.

But it doesn’t come.

“Oh,” Steve says, shoulders going stiff. He takes hold of her hand and moves it away from his chest but holds onto it gently. “I thought we could spend some time together. Get to know each other. This is just our first date, after all, right?”

“I guess.” The girl shrugs. “I just thought you were supposed to be into showing girls a good time. I’ve heard the rumors.”

Steve laughs, but it’s nervous. Hollow. His eyes flick toward the fire exit like he’s considering a tactical retreat.

“Yeah, uh… you don’t need to worry about that,” he says. “I was kind of a mess in junior year. I’ve learned a lot since then. Hookups were fun, sure, but they never really felt good after. I’d rather have something real now.”

“Hmm,” she says, unimpressed and takes her hand back, turning back to the screen.

Eddie frowns. Something about her tone grates on him. Dismissive. Like Steve just offered her a piece of himself and she tossed it aside without looking.

He shifts again, but this time it’s not out of amusement. His smirk is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and a faint scowl. He watches Steve fumble through the conversation, trying to be honest and vulnerable and getting nothing but attitude in return.

And it bugs him. More than it should.

Maybe it’s because he’s seen too many guys like Steve get away with being jerks. But here’s Steve, trying to be better, trying to be real, and this girl’s treating him like he’s a joke.

Eddie knows what that feels like. To be misunderstood. To have people assume the worst of you based on old stories and high school gossip. And it sits right on his last nerve to watch it happen to someone else.

The conversation shifts.

Not in a dramatic way. There are no raised voices, no sudden outbursts, just a slow, steady unraveling. It’s like watching a thread being pulled loose from a sweater.

The girl starts interrupting Steve. Not just once, but over and over. She talks over him, cuts him off mid-sentence, contradicts him just to do it. When he mentions liking a certain band, she scoffs and says they’re overrated. When he shares a memory about a summer job, she calls it boring.

Eddie watches it all unfold like a car crash in slow motion.

Steve doesn’t snap. Doesn’t even push back. He just absorbs the impact of it. Smiles tightly. Tries to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. He’s patient, too patient. Like he’s used to this and he’s trying not to make a scene.

Eddie’s scowl deepens.

He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much. Maybe it’s because he expected Steve to be the problem. Expected him to be the shallow one. But instead, he’s watching Steve try—really try—to be kind, to connect and make something work. And this girl is steamrolling him like he’s not even there.

It’s uncomfortable. And not in the way Eddie usually enjoys.

The lights dim. A hush falls over the theatre. The trailers are about to start.

And then she speaks again.

“Oh wow, look at that,” she says, pointing down toward one of the lower rows. Her voice is just loud enough to carry. “I bet they think no one can see them because the lights are off.”

Eddie follows her gaze.

Two men. Sitting close. Hands intertwined.

Something drops in his stomach.

“Gross, right?” she laughs, looking at Steve for agreement.

The sound is sharp. Ugly. It cuts through the quiet like a knife.

Eddie freezes.

He doesn’t know those guys. Doesn’t need to. Because he knows that feeling. The one where you let yourself believe, just for a second, that you’re safe. That you can be like the people who are allowed to love their partner openly. That you can feel normal, just for one precious moment.

And then someone like her reminds you of exactly what the world thinks of you.

His jaw clenches. His grip tightens on the armrest. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose and braces himself for the inevitable crushing blow of hearing his straight boy high school crush agree that men who like men are gross.

It doesn’t come.

Eddie cautiously opens his eyes.

Steve doesn’t say anything at first. But Eddie sees the way his shoulders have gone rigid, the way his head has dipped slightly, like he’s trying to disappear into the seat. And that’s when Eddie knows.

This isn’t just secondhand embarrassment. Her comment hit him somewhere deep.

The girl leans in again, not picking up on Steve’s body language silently screaming at her to stop, voice low but still audible. “I mean, it’s just weird, right? Why do they have to do that in public? It’s not like anyone wants to see it.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold.

Steve shifts. His hands curl into fists on his knees. Then, quietly but firmly, he says, “Shut up.”

The girl turns, startled. “Excuse me?”

“I said shut up,” Steve repeats, louder this time. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He watches the girl recoil, stunned, and then scoff like she’s the one who’s been wronged. “What crawled up your ass all of a sudden?”

“They’re just two people who like each other,” Steve says. “They’re trying to enjoy a date. How is that any of your business?”

Eddie’s breath catches.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the back of Steve Harrington’s head like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

Steve had said something. Not just something, he had stood up - loud and clear and without hesitation - for two strangers. For people like Eddie. Eddie’s heart is pounding, but not from fear this time. It’s something else. Something warmer. Fiercer.

“Because it’s weird.” The girl doubles down,

“You wouldn’t think it was weird if it was those two people over there who were holding hands.” He gestures toward a man and woman sitting together near the front of the theatre.

“That’s different.”

Steve turns to her fully now, eyes sharp. “How?”

“Because it’s two men. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting,” she says. “I’d say the same if it were two women.”

Steve flinches hard, like he’s been physically hit.

There’s a beat of silence. Heavy. Final.

“I’m very close to someone who’s gay. And they’re smarter, kinder, funnier, and better than you’ll ever be,” Steve says, voice low and steady. “This date is over. Don’t bother calling me.” He goes to stand, but the girl shoves him back down and rises from her seat instead.

“You don’t get to walk out on me, I’m walking out on you,” she snaps. “I only came on this stupid date because I was bored, and I thought you’d wanna fool around like you supposedly do with all the other girls anyway. Turns out you’re a disappointment.”

She grabs her purse, mutters something under her breath, and storms out, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Steve doesn’t watch her go. He just stares straight ahead, jaw tight, hands still clenched on his knees.

Eddie swallows hard.

He wants to say something. ‘Thank you for saying that,’ maybe. Or ‘that was brave’. Or even just ‘hey’. But all he can do is stare, stunned and a little breathless, because Steve Harrington just shattered every expectation Eddie ever had of him. And now Eddie’s sitting here while a laundry detergent commercial plays loudly in the background, heart in his throat, wondering how the hell he ever thought he had this guy figured out.

Steve puts his face in his hands and exhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. He seems tired now, defeated. Something about that doesn’t sit right with Eddie after what he just witnessed. It spurs him into action. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just knows he can’t keep sitting there without saying something.

So, he stands. Walks down the steps. And stops at Steve’s row.

Steve hears the footsteps and looks up, startled. His expression flickers—confusion, then recognition, then something like wariness.

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice low. “Mind if I sit?”

His heart is hammering out a beat that would rival the work of the drummers in his favourite metal bands. He’s still mentally preparing himself for this Steve to disappear and be replaced by the jerk that had existed in his brain for the past few years.

Instead, Steve blinks at him, surprised. “Uh… sure? Eddie, right?”

“That’s what all the legends call me,” Eddie confirms, dropping into the seat beside him. There’s a beat of silence. Then he turns to look at Steve and “You okay?”

Steve lets out a breath, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yeah. I mean, not really. But I will be.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t push. Just lets the quiet settle for a moment. Then he says, “So that was a lot.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Not exactly how I pictured the night going. I assume you heard everything?”

“Yep. She sucked,” Eddie says bluntly.

Steve snorts. “Yeah. She really did.”

Another pause. Eddie shifts, glancing sideways at him. “You didn’t have to say anything,” he says. “But you did.”

Steve shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Didn’t feel like a choice.”

“That’s kind of the point, though,” Eddie says. “Most people would’ve just let it slide. Pretended they didn’t hear it. You didn’t.”

Steve’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “I’ve let too much slide before. I’m not doing that anymore.”

Eddie studies him. There’s something in Steve’s voice, something tired, but solid. Like a line’s been drawn and he’s not stepping back from it. And Eddie feels that twist in his chest again. That strange, warm ache.

“I meant every word I said,” Steve adds, softer now. “I have a close friend, more like a platonic soulmate really, who’s gay and the best person I know." He looks wounded. “And hearing someone I put enough trust in to consider dating basically call that person gross and disgusting and wrong... I couldn’t just sit here and listen to that crap.” His fists clench. “It’s one thing if it’s me she’s saying those things about but-”

He turns to face Eddie, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he realises the implications of what he said.

And Eddie knows that feeling.

He’s worn that same expression before. In locker rooms. In hallways. In classrooms where someone said something cruel under their breath and everyone else just laughed. But Steve Harrington? King Steve? He’s not supposed to know what that feels like.

Except he does.

Eddie nods slowly. “It’s okay. I figured.” He admits as casually as possible to try and ease Steve’s panic, although he’s still reeling over the events of the past few minutes. “You’re safe with me,” he promises.

Steve’s tense shoulders deflate, and glances at him curiously. “You?”

Eddie meets his eyes. “Yeah. Me.”

There’s no shock in Steve’s face. No judgment. Just a quiet kind of understanding.

“Cool,” Steve says. And he means it.

Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then he grins, crooked and a little shy.

“You know,” he says, “you’re not what I expected.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re kind of a dork from the bits of conversation I overheard before things went bad.”

Steve laughs, and it’s real this time. “Takes one to know one.”

They sit in silence for a moment longer, their eyes lingering on each other, then Steve fully relaxes into his seat and turns to face the screen. “Well, no sense in wasting my ticket,” he says, then he holds his popcorn bucket out to Eddie, who’s only just realised he left his behind. “Wanna share?”

Eddie grins and grabs a handful. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—————————

It’s the most fun Eddie’s had in a while.

Steve leans into his space every now and then, whispering snarky commentary about the characters’ terrible decisions and even worse fashion choices. He especially tears into the asshole jock character, which catches Eddie off guard in the best way.

Eddie starts leaning in too, throwing in his own jabs, and before long, they’re trading quips like they’ve done this a hundred times before. At one point, one of them says something so ridiculous that they both dissolve into laughter. It’s the kind that’s breathless and uncontrollable.

Someone turns around and shushes them, loud and annoyed.

They immediately straighten, whispering apologies like guilty schoolkids. But the second the person turns back around, they catch each other’s eyes and grin, barely holding back another round of hysterics.

Steve nudges Eddie’s shoulder with his own, playful and warm.

Eddie nudges back.

If the small, friendly gesture sends goosebumps up his arms, well—that’s for Eddie to know and nobody else to find out.

Then, near the end of the film, the tension ramps up. The music swells. Eddie’s leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed, when a sudden jumpscare hits and Steve gasps. Before Eddie can even register what’s happening, a larger, warmer hand grabs his.

Eddie freezes.

Not because he’s scared of the movie—though the jumpscare was decent—but because Steve Harrington is holding his hand.

Tightly.

Warm fingers wrapped around his own, palm pressed flush against his. It’s instinctive, a reflex, but Steve doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it at first.

Eddie doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He’s not sure if it’s the shock or the fact that his heart is currently trying to beat its way out of his chest, but he’s rooted to the spot.

Then Steve seems to realize what he’s done. His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he glances sideways, eyes wide, a little sheepish.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Eddie turns his head slowly, meets his gaze. Steve’s face is flushed, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Eddie could make a joke. He could laugh it off, tease him.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he gives Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You can hold on if you want.”

Steve blinks. His eyes search Eddie’s face for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s serious. Then he smiles, small, grateful and a little shy. It warms Eddie to his very core.

He doesn’t let go.

They sit like that for the rest of the movie. Their shoulders brushing, hands clasped between them and fingers intertwined, the flickering light from the screen casting soft shadows across their faces. Eddie doesn’t even remember how the movie ends, but he remembers the way Steve’s thumb brushed lightly over his when the final girl shared a kiss with her love interest.

And he knows, without a doubt, that something’s changed and shifted between them. It’s something small, but at the same time monumental.

As the lights come up, Steve sighs. He gives Eddie’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and standing to stretch. Eddie’s hand falls to his lap, suddenly cold, and he stares at it for a second like it might still remember the shape of Steve’s fingers.

He already misses the warmth. The weight. The quiet reassurance of it.

“Did you drive here?” Steve asks suddenly.

Eddie blinks, caught off guard. He expected this to be the end. He expected they would just awkwardly part ways in silence after this, try to lose each other in the small crowd exiting the theatre and then avoid each other for the most part. Maybe they would share a nod or a half-smile the next time he wandered into Family Video, but that’s all Eddie had hoped for.

He hadn’t hoped for this, for Steve waiting for Eddie to stand too, still looking at him like he wants to keep talking.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. “My van’s out back.”

Steve nods. “Cool. I parked a few rows over. You wanna walk out together?”

Eddie’s heart stutters. He stands slowly, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

They fall into step as they exit the theatre, the buzz of the credits still echoing faintly behind them. The lobby is mostly empty now, just a few stragglers and the hum of vending machines. Outside, the night air is cool and quiet, the parking lot bathed in soft yellow light.

For a moment, neither of them says anything.

Then Steve glances over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Thanks for sitting with me. I didn’t expect… well, any of this.”

Eddie shrugs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. But I’m glad I did.”

Steve smiles back, and it’s that same small, shy one from earlier. It makes Eddie feel like he’s standing too close to a bonfire, especially now with the glow of the streetlights illuminating Steve’s features. They reach the edge of the lot where their cars are parked a few rows apart. Eddie slows, not quite ready to say goodbye.

Steve hesitates too. Then, almost nervously, he says, “Hey, uh… are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, slower this time, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Steve’s face lights up, just a little. “There’s a diner a few blocks from here. It’s not fancy, but they’ve got decent fries and terrible coffee.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

The pet name's out before Eddie can stop it.

His brain short-circuits the second it leaves his mouth. His eyes go wide, and he immediately wants to rewind time, shove the word back down his throat, and pretend it never happened.

Shit.

He curses himself silently. Nicknames have always slipped out like second nature around his friends, bandmates, even the occasional stranger. But this? This is Steve. And this moment feels different. More fragile. More real.

He risks a glance at Steve, fully expecting confusion, maybe discomfort.

But Steve’s just looking at him with that same soft smile. A little surprised, sure, but not upset. If anything, he looks… pleased?

“Sweetheart, huh?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

Eddie lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a reflex. I swear. I’ve called random people on the street ‘darlin’ and the guy working the counter at the gas station ‘babe’ before now.”

Steve hums, clearly amused. “Didn’t say I minded. But now I’m a little jealous of the guy at the gas station.”

Eddie blinks. “You didn’t? …You are?”

“Nope, not at all. And yeah, I am.” Steve starts walking, hands in his pockets, glancing back over his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “Thought I might’ve been special for a second there.”

Eddie wants to kiss that look right off his face, but he reels that thought in fast. Steve’s probably just joking. Just sharing friendly banter with a guy he knows won’t hurt him for it. Who is Eddie to deny him that experience or make it awkward by assigning a deeper meaning to it?

“What can I say, Steve?” he shrugs. “The man sometimes gives me discounts on my favourite brand of cigarette. How can you compete with that?”

Steve bites his lip, clearly trying to stifle a smile. Eddie’s eyes lock on his mouth.

“I can think of a few ways,” Steve says, voice low, suggestive and just a little nervous as he sways into Eddie’s space. He gets close, so close Eddie’s stomach swoops.

Then a devilish grin curls at the corner of Steve’s lips.

“Last one to the diner pays.”

“Wha—” Eddie starts, dazed.

But Steve’s already taken off running, his laughter echoing behind him.

“Hey! That’s no fucking fair! You’re rich!” Eddie shouts, already breaking into a sprint.

Steve turns, running backward for a second just to flash him a grin. “Better catch up to me then!”

Eddie cackles, wild and breathless, as he chases after him. He sees the moment Steve realizes he’s gaining fast and the flicker of panic that crosses his face. Steve hadn’t counted on the fact that Eddie Munson has years of experience running from trouble.

Trying to push his legs to work faster turns out to be a fruitless effort for Steve because Eddie manages to catch him around the waist and spin him away from the front door of the diner just as he’s about to reach for the handle. They almost end up sprawled on the ground together from the momentum of it, but Steve manages to grasp Eddie’s forearms and fix their footing as the metalhead leans against his back and laughs uncontrollably.

They stand there for a second, tangled up in each other, catching their breath. Eddie leans into him, still chuckling, and Steve can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and giddy.

“You’re fast,” Steve says, glancing over his shoulder.

“You’re slow,” Eddie counters, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “You tackled me.”

“I redirected you,” Eddie says, mock-offended. “With grace.”

Steve turns in his grip, still holding onto Eddie’s arms, and they’re suddenly face to face. Close. Closer than they’ve been all night. The laughter fades into something quieter, softer.

Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve’s mouth for just a second. Steve notices.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moves.

Then the diner door swings open behind them with a loud ding, and a couple walks out, chatting loudly and breaking the moment. Eddie steps back, clearing his throat. “Guess we should, uh… go inside before they run out of terrible coffee.”

Steve nods, still smiling. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

————————

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re basically a single parent to six?”

They’re sat in a booth in the back corner, chatting animatedly and occasionally stealing each other’s fries even though they got exactly the same thing. They’d foregone the crappy coffee for milkshakes though, Steve’s strawberry and Eddie’s chocolate.

“Seven if you count Erica, Lucas’ little sister,” Steve corrects him. “But jury’s still out on whether she’s actually a child or whether Lucas is just living with the consequences of feeding a mogwai after midnight.”

“God you are such a nerd,” Eddie laughs, delighted. “’Mogwai’? You didn’t even use the incorrect term - ‘gremlin’ - like most people would. You just went straight in there with ‘mogwai’.”

Steve grins, clearly pleased with himself. “What can I say? I take my pop culture references seriously.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re a walking contradiction, Steve. You look like you should be quarterbacking some all-American football team, but you talk like you’ve got the entire catalogue of Family Video memorised.”

Steve sips his milkshake, eyes twinkling. “Maybe I do.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Steve shrugs, all faux-casual. “You’ll have to hang out with me again to find out.”

Eddie’s caught off guard for a second, not by the words, but by the way Steve says them. Like it’s not a joke. Like he means it. Eddie, who’s spent most of his life waiting for the other shoe to drop, finds himself hoping just a little that maybe this time it won’t.

He smiles, softer now. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how does King of the jocks and certified lady-killer Steve Harrington become an actually decent and interesting guy with a brood of little lost ducklings?”

Steve leans back in the booth, fingers idly tracing the condensation on his milkshake glass.

“It’s a long story, but I guess I just got tired of pretending I wanted the same things I used to,” he says. “Back in high school, it was all about the image. The parties, the girls, the reputation. I thought that was what I was supposed to want. What everyone expected from me.”

Eddie watches him, the teasing gone from his expression.

“But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want to keep chasing something that never really made me feel good. I started figuring out that what I actually want is something that feels real. Something that lasts.”

He glances up, meets Eddie’s eyes. There’s something open in his expression. It’s unguarded, but cautious. Eddie’s heart does something strange in his chest, tightens and softens all at once. He reminds himself that shouldn’t be reading into things; Steve might just be getting used to having someone he can talk to about all this.

He nods slowly, voice quiet. “Yeah. I get that.”

They share a soft, secret smile.

“So,” Steve says. “You like metal, right? I don’t think I’ve ever listened to that before. What do you like about it?”

It’s a hard pivot in the topic of conversation, but Eddie allows it. Mostly because the fact that Steve seems to realise how important music is to Eddie and makes a point to ask him about it. Eddie’s eyes light up at the question, and he sits up a little straighter.

“Oh man, where do I even start?” he says, grinning. “Okay, so it’s loud, it’s chaotic. But it’s also honest. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It’s raw and messy and emotional, and it doesn’t apologise for any of it.”

Steve watches him, chin propped on one hand, milkshake forgotten for the moment.

Eddie continues, more animated now. “And a lot of the songs are about overcoming adversity. About going through hell and somehow still fighting and persevering. It’s about taking back power when the world is trying to crush you. It makes me feel confident for a change, like I could take on anything. And people complain that it’s just noise but that’s so far from the truth. It takes so much talent and years of dedication and-”

He pauses, his eyes flicking to Steve’s, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Steve shakes his head, smiling. “No, I like it. You talk about it like it’s more than just music.”

“It is,” Eddie shrugs, a little sheepish. “It kind of saved my life, y’know? When everything else felt like it was falling apart and I had nowhere I belonged, metal was the one place I could just be and feel accepted. No masks. No pretending.”

Steve’s expression softens. “That makes sense.”

There’s a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, just full. Like the air’s thick with things unsaid but understood. Then Steve leans forward, a playful glint in his eye. “So, if I wanted to dip my toe into the world of metal, where would I start? What’s, like, the gateway drug?”

“Really? You want to give up your metal virginity?”

“Didn’t have to put it like that,” Steve says, his face scrunching up in a way that’s far too cute to do anything good for Eddie’s heart.

“Okay, you’re coming over to my trailer as soon as possible and I’m going to play you some songs. I’m already mentally writing a list. This is gonna be so good.” Eddie laughs ecstatically and rubs his hands together deviously. “We’ll make a metalhead out of you yet, Steve.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve replies, his expression so open and honest that it gives Eddie pause.

Eddie’s demeanor turns softer. “You don’t have to like it though, y’know. I won’t be offended.”

“I know,” Steve meets his gaze, steady. “I want to understand the things that matter to you.”

Eddie’s caught off guard again. His heart does that weird fluttery thing, and he has to look away before he says something stupid.

“Cool,” he says, voice a little rough. “Yeah. Cool.”

They go back to their fries, the silence between them now warm and companionable. Outside, the neon sign of the diner flickers softly, casting pink and blue shadows across the table.

——————————

The bell chimes above their heads and a nice, middle-aged lady calls out a, “Thank you for coming, be sure to get home safe,” as Eddie holds the door open for Steve and they step back out into the cold night air.

Steve sidles up next to him. “Thank you for getting the door for me, Sweetheart,” he says, teasing.

Eddie groans loudly. “You are not going to let me forget about that, are you?"

“Never,” Steve beams.

They settle into a comfortable silence as they walk. Their shoulders touch once, then again, and neither of them moves away. Their hands are so close that they constantly brush against each other and it’s driving Eddie mad. All he would have to do is reach out a little and he could be holding Steve’s hand again. He isn’t able to summon the courage for that because he’s still not quite sure if Steve feels anything more than a budding sense of friendship toward him.

They walk in step down the quiet street, the night air crisp and laced with the scent of damp pavement and distant woodsmoke. The town is mostly asleep, windows glowing softly in the distance, the occasional car humming by like a lullaby.

Their hands brush again. This time, Steve doesn’t pull away. In fact, he lets his fingers linger just a second longer than before. Eddie’s heart stutters.

He swallows. “Hey, uh… you don’t have to say yes or anything, but would you ever want to come to a show sometime, like one of the local gigs I play or even just hang out while I practice? Hear some live music.”

Steve looks over at him, eyes warm. “I’d love that.”

Eddie blinks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I want to see you in your element. I bet you look cool as hell on stage.”

Eddie laughs, a little breathless. “I mean, I do, obviously. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

They stop next to Eddie’s van. Neither of them moves to leave just yet.

Steve rocks on his heels. “Thanks for tonight. I had more fun than I probably had in years if I’m being honest.”

Eddie nods, his voice soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

There’s a pause. Neither of them moves.

Then Steve clears his throat and pulls one hand free, fishing around in his back pocket. “Before I forget,” He pulls out a pen and the crumpled diner receipt, scribbles something down, and hands it to Eddie. “My number. For whenever you want to hang out or just talk.”

Eddie takes it, fingers brushing Steve’s. He looks down at the messy scrawl of digits, then back up, heart thudding. “Thank you. I’ll definitely call you to set something up soon, and let you know as soon as I know when the next gig’s going to be.”

“Cool, I can’t wait,” Steve smiles.

He hesitates for a second, then steps a little closer, his gaze drifting to Eddie’s lips. “Also, I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.”

Eddie barely has time to process that before Steve leans in and kisses him.

The kiss is soft and tentative at first, like a question asked in a language neither of them is fluent in yet. Steve’s lips brush against Eddie’s with a kind of reverence, like he’s afraid to push too far, too fast. But Eddie’s breath catches, and instinct takes over. He leans in, closing the distance, answering the question with a quiet certainty.

His hands find their way to Steve’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like they’ve always belonged there. Steve’s hands hover for a moment before settling gently on Eddie’s shoulders, grounding them both.

The world fades. The cold night air, the hum of a distant streetlamp, the faint creak of the van’s metal frame, all of it disappears. It’s just them. Just this.

Steve tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and Eddie feels it like a spark down his spine. It’s still gentle, still careful, but there’s something more now. It’s something that says ‘I see you’ and ‘I want this’. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

When they finally part, it’s slow, reluctant. Steve’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at Eddie like he’s trying to memorize every detail of his face.

“Was that okay?” Steve asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie blinks, dazed, lips tingling, heart pounding. Then he grins, wide and a little breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, that was more than okay.”

Steve lets out a soft laugh, relief blooming across his face. “Good.”

They linger there, close enough to feel each other’s breath in the space between them. Steve leans in again, slower this time, and kisses him once more. It’s just as soft and just as sure. It’s the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a one-time thing.

“I’ll call you,” Eddie says, still smiling as they hesitantly move away from each other. “God, it might even be as soon as I get home after a kiss like that.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Steve replies, stepping back slowly, like he’s reluctant to go.

Eddie watches him walk away, heart pounding, fingers still curled around the scrap of paper like it’s something precious.

Steve turns back to face him and, he’s smiling, nervous, but genuine. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie’s frozen for a second, then grins, wide and a little dazed. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

They part ways, both of them feeling a little lighter than before.

[hatchan]

The first Goosebumps movie: Welcome to Dead House

I had read several Goosebumps books, but never knew the movies existed until I picked up that one at my local library.

I think this was the first thing I ever watched that included zombies as the main antagonists. The movie scared me TERRIBLY. In particular I think what got to me was when the zombies entered a character's bedroom because they never, ever stopped chasing. The relentless pursuit of it all! And to me, a child, the bedroom/bed was "safe." Scary things existed, I had seen/read many scary things by then, but when you're in bed and you put the blanket over your head, nothing can get you! The blanket is a sacred forcefield and the scary things cannot penetrate the blanket, and also my bedroom, with the door closed, was by extension "safe."

But the zombies chased the character into his or her bedroom. The locked doors and windows didn't stop the zombies in their relentless pursuit. And the blanket was not a sacred protective forcefield. The zombies couldn't be so easily deterred.

Many years later, I studied linguistics in college and learned about the concept of "doxa" (related to words like "orthodox" and "paradox" and "heterodoxy"). That is, in my un-academic words, The Thing That is True. The beliefs we have that is about the Facts, The Way Things Are, the baseline understanding of reality. Things that are taken for granted and common sense. And when something happens that clashes with existing doxa, and reality directly contradicts itself, that's where fear comes from.

An example my professor gave me was the horror movie Psycho by Albert Hitchcock. The woman introduced to us as a protagonist is killed in the shower, stabbed to death. Even now, you hear of people checking behind the shower curtains for killers, mostly as a joke, but the fear of being killed in the shower became a real thing. Taking a shower in your own home is meant to be Safe and even a nice ritual of self care. But watching this movie, where someone is killed in the shower, broke the doxa and introduced the idea that it's possible to die that way. It was always possible--but we didn't know we had that belief until we experienced the contradiction of it. And it's scary!

So that movie, Welcome to Dead House, was the time my doxic belief in the safety of a bed and bedroom was shown to be false. My bedroom was not the safe place I assumed it to be all this time and learning you're wrong is scary and upsetting and I had to figure out a different way to cope

reblog this and put in the tags something you watched that terrified you as a child. i was so scared of the hot sauce in spongebob that i refused to be in the room when it was on

[chrollohearttags]

𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 | 𝚎. 𝚓𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚛

studying has been taking up a lot of your time (and mental energy) as of late. Your boyfriend has just the plan to shut your brain off for the night.

black nurse!reader (fem descriptors), eren is a nursing student (a few years younger than reader also) fingering, neck kissing, choking, facefucking, rough-ish sex, squirting, missionary, slightly aggressive rennie 🫠, daddy is used once, nipple play, calls reader slut, spit play, fingers in mouth, creampie, multiple orgasms

word count: 5.3K

🎙️: some of y’all might remember this AU from Wattpad and I’m officially restarting it bc my muse for the others are shot right now. If you’re not familiar with it, I apologize in advance bc I promise it’s not this smutty and juicy in the slightest ☠️ I’m just in a mood. Also, this is my first fic in almost two months, please be nice or I’ll cry!

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“You know you play too fucking much, right?”

“Mmmm..nah, I don’t think I’ve played enough. Look at you. All tense and shit.”

if there was one word in the entire English language that you could use to describe your mood at the moment, it’d most certainly be irritable. To the highest degree..and granted, that could have been chocked up to the fact that you hadn’t eaten in hours, you’d been staring at textbooks and computer screens since four in the afternoon and your phone screen read nine thirty..and to really add the proverbial icing atop the cake, this annoying ass man would not leave you alone! Here it was only a week away from your BSN final; two from his N-CLEX exam and here he was bullshitting as per usual. It was how he approached most things in life, his mantra if you will. No need to stress, what’s meant to be will happen.

too bad, you couldn’t take on those sorts of ideologies when so much was at stake! Not when the results of these tests would determine your future as an RN and instructor, and his career as a nurse in general. You’d met Eren Jaeger almost three years ago when he was merely a patient at the office you worked for during your initial internship..earning clinical hours and experience in the field. He was most certainly the liveliest one you’d seen in Dr. Smith’s office and there was never an appointment where you didn’t leave in stitches because he’d made you laugh so hard. However, you pegged him as the rich kid, the son of a doctor with no ambition or common sense...always looking to make a joke out of everything.

so imagine your surprise when you were tasked with not only supervising an entire floor but the local nursing school recruits as well and the first person to come traipsing through those heavy double doors was him! And even more so, in six months time, he’d have you wooed and swept off your feet. That same charm and wit that had you cackling during his appointments were the same ones that made you nearly spit your drink out when you were on a date and eased serious tension among your staff after a rough night on the floor. Just being in his presence brought you immense comfort. However, at the moment…

“Look, Eren. I’m busy, find sum’ else to do, for real.”

you weren’t in the mood for any of it! This exam had been causing you immense stress and it seemed that no matter how hard you studied, retaining information was impossible. Nothing stuck and you were at your wits end..certainly not in the mood for childish antics.

”I’m trying but you don’t want to stop—“

“Maybe because everything isn’t a goddamn joke to me.”

Eren could see the frustration, hence why he had come up behind you, in a half assed attempt to make you scared and somehow wound up groping your chest in the process. Admittedly, he’d never seen you act like this..never even so much as raise your voice at him and here you were, lashing out. Part of him understood your feelings. He knew how important this was and although he wasn’t showing it, he was equally as nervous for his own test. But regardless, nothing was going to change tonight and especially by sitting here irate and snappy. The only thing he wanted to do was shut his brain off and wanted his beloved (y/n) to follow suit..and he was willing to make it happen by any means!

“Eren, what did I just say—“

one thing that he had learned since being together was that once your mind was resigned to something..there was no changing it. So rather than spend time arguing with you, he had another solution!

“..I heard you, I don’t give a fuck about all that right now…’just trying to help..”

“You’re trying to help me by fucking me? Righttt.”

“Yes, I think it’s a very helpful tool for relieving stress. Seen that somewhere in my text book or sum’..”

“Mmm, I think me and you were studying different materials..but sure, why not.”

seconds later, his hand was snaking around your upper body, clutching your throat with the other steadily pulling the chair back and his lips marking your neck with soft kisses. He was adamant in making sure that you got proper rest and a distraction. What better way to do so than to wear you down? Eventually, you’d find those large hands of his snaking around to the front, making home back on your plump breasts..soft, voluptuous and perky as they sat up in your tank top. He could see you visibly enjoying this little tease, indicative by the way your muscles relaxed. He’d continue to massage them until your legs almost instinctively parted.

That’s when, before you even had time to react, he’d spin you around to face him. His grasp still firm around your throat as he moved in for a kiss. Your tongues collided in a steamy clash; smacking against one another as you attempted to catch your breath. But he wasn’t leaving you much room to do so, less known, attest him right now.

“Exactly..now keep those legs spread and don’t move.”

the command was so absolute and matter of fact, it damn near caught you off guard! He’d never spoken to you in such a manner. It was always so playful, jovial and even a bit needy during times like this. But alas, you’d awoken this side of him and you were going to have a hell of a time ‘calming’ him down. Even so, you’d follow his order just this once and part those thick thighs until that plump center, sheathed by the smallest pair of shorts he’d ever seen. Your physique truly was something special…thick in all of the correct areas with stretch marks and a semi-pudgy tummy to match. Your belly ring dangled from the gentle force of him maneuvering you around.

“Eren..I—“

“Whatever you’re about to say, save it…you don’t always have to handle shit alone. I got you..just let me help, okay? I promise, you can trust me..”

he was aware of your past..how mean and cruel previous partners had been so he was very careful in how he approached you. He understood all too well that being overly aggressive would only prove to make you anxious or even shut down entirely. His intention was never to make you uncomfortable. Even so, he wanted to see you give yourself to him fully…trust that he would do right by you and not take advantage of the precious gift that was your love.

he would take great care of you to not only relax but feel pleasure like you’d never experienced it. Although you seemed a bit reluctant, you were ready for whatever he was going to toss your way! Assuring him that you were all his for the taking..

“Fineee…I trust you..”

without a moment of hesitation, he’d detach from your own mouth and move down your neck. Whilst those tits remained exposed, he’d prompt you to give each of those nipples a light squeeze in his place. Meanwhile, his own hands were busy gliding into your underwear, trying to locate that aching bud. That long, tattooed forearm gliding down the center of your torso as a result. It would also serve as a semblance of comfort when he inevitably brought you to ecstasy..

“Mmm..there we go, baby..fuck, you’re so wet already.”

“That’s because you were grabbing on my neck..”

“Oh you like that, huh? I’ll keep it in mind..”

you wouldn’t know it but when you first began dating Eren, he was completely inexperienced. Although he wore his confidence like a lapel pin, he was incredibly timid, shy and nervous when it came to intimacy. The first time you two actually had sex, he lasted all of three minutes before he forced himself to pull out and splatter you with a heavy load. Left a trembling mess, his entire face turned beet red as he just glared at you. He was certain you were going to leave him right then and there; flustered and apologetic, he’d try to make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t satisfy you to your full potential. However, you thought it was adorable! He’d worked up all of his courage to give you a night filled with pleasure and even though it didn’t pan out quite the way he imagined, he had made a complete turnaround since that night and had done good to broaden his sexual horizons. You grew together; learning one another’s ticks and desires, which he knew each of yours to a science. So much so, you practically melted within his grasp and wanted to see just how far he’d take it!

“Open your mouth f’r me, princess…” prompting you as he causally glided those fingers across your tongue. Your gorgeous brown eyes fixated on him in a lustful gaze..by this time, you’d come to completely face him with that tall, lanky frame hovering above. You were all but level with that rising tent within his sweats. Meanwhile, his opposite set of digits were good and preoccupied with your juicy cunt; tightening around the base of the knuckles and then releasing once he’d use the thumb to stroke your swollen clit. Such an awkward position to be in at the moment but it was well worth it for the amount of pleasure both of you were about to receive. Finally retracting the ones in your mouth, Eren would leave you with a trail of drool seeping down your lips and chest in the process. Looking fucked out and starved already without so much as even a single thrust yet..that was the type of desperation and submission he wanted to see from you..

“ ‘ren…lemme suck on that dick..”

although he was trying to maintain control, who was he to deny your very blunt request? After all, he knew if you were dripping now, this would inevitably have you overflowing. Just as the first hand did, he’d slowly withdraw from those tight folds and allow you to clean up the remnants before tugging at that elastic waistband. “oh shit..I knew you’d come around. Here, baby..”

suddenly, you’d feel that same grasp on the back of your head, tugging you forward so that he could align himself with the rim of those pretty lips. The softness brushing against the tip as he rubbed them around…teasing you. “There you go..kiss it—stick your tongue out..that’s it..” from there, (y/n) needed no further instruction. Without the guidance of your own hands, you’d take his entire tip into your mouth and begin to suckle. Suctioning in, enclosing the silkiness of those jaws around his cock. “Fuck..you don’t need me to tell you anything..just make me feel good, princess..like you always do—“

he was well aware of how deviant you truly could become when the need arised. From outside appearances, you always looked so poised and proper..never getting out of character and to some, you’d even come off as ‘boujie’. However, Eren got to see the multitude of your complex layers; dispelling the notion that you were dull or boring. Including this one..the very promiscuous side that would do whatever it took to get hers and make him climax too! When it came to the bedroom, you were adamant and steadfast in what you wanted and he had no issue fulfilling those requests. Eventually, you’d take another couple of inches before establishing a rhythm. It didn’t take long for the very audible sounds of slurping and gagging to emit as a result. You’d gaze up to see Eren’s head resting back on his shoulder blades; groans spilling out in a whiny huff as a result of it all. You could be rather relentless when it came to pleasuring him but he didn’t mind it one single bit, of course!

“Oh my—shit, baby. You take me so good..fucking your own face like that. I love it..”

those words only served as further encouragement and inevitably prompted you to cradle his balls in addition, knowing how sensitive they were. Giving them a light squeeze, you’d continue forcing his shaft between your jaws; the sloppy wet strings of drool pooling down your chest serving as a testament to how much you were enjoying yourself. Where limits should have existed, there were none and it wasn’t long before he’d find himself buried to the hilt of your throat with your forehead scraping his pelvis. With that salacious gaze fixated on him, Eren had to all but restrain himself from forcing a load down your esophagus. But to be fair, this was the outcome he desired so badly and kept pestering you for.

“F—fuck! You’re not playing fair, baby.. ‘gonna make me come if you don’t stop..”

that deep tone with breathy whimpers cried out as he struggled to maintain his composure. However, you weren’t interested in letting up when he so rudely disturbed your study session. He was going to pay for breaking your focus! In a quick slight of hand, you’d shift his member into your palm and his sack in between your lips. Making slow jerking motions until you’d lean back up and coat both with exorbitant amounts of saliva. Seeing how filthy and unabashed you had become for him was causing Eren to lose his mind. Sometimes, he felt as though he couldn’t keep up with you and this was one of those moments. Although this little sexual escapade was his idea, you’d seem to have taken full, unequivocal control of the situation.

“That’s exactly what I want…”

“Then gag yourself on this dick, baby..let that stress out.”

that look in your eyes screaming for him to give you every ounce of his creamy nut…wanting to swallow every drop. Eventually, you’d begin to writhe around against the desk chair, attempting to create friction and stimulation for your clit. Your nipples had once again become extremely hard and the slightest brush was driving you crazy. Eren had heard your response loud and clear, which led him to sandwiching your head between those same fingers that had once curled up inside of you. He’d prompt you to take his cock back into your mouth so that he could work out all of that cum of his own accord.

the pace mirrored that of heavy, rough strokes..ones you’d get to experience soon enough. Gag spit along with loud moans poured out as a result of his brutal pounding but you welcomed the sensation..even increasing it by reaching down and fingering yourself in his place. “..yeah, play with your pussy, baby..” It wasn’t even a full five minutes before you noticed his stride beginning to break and his toned legs trembling. The last couple movements were off kilter and choppy but soon, you’d have your reward in the form of his seed. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, damn—‘coming—“

in that very moment, (y/n) would find yourself held in place by the tight grasp of his palms as he allowed that thick cock to pulsate in the back of your throat. The warm fluid filled your oral cavity until he could muster another drop. The entire time, his loud groaning was permeating the room as well. Once he was able to regain his senses, Eren would slowly withdraw and examine the aftermath. That towering six foot something frame would take a step back to truly take in the beautiful sight in front of him. You were drenched from the neck to your belly button in silky fluids…that wrung out tank top sat idly underneath your breasts and those shorts were halfway around your thighs at this point. To say he’d make an absolute wreck of you would be an understatement.

“Lemme look at you…”

proudly displaying his work of ‘art’, you’d cup those saliva laden tits and squeeze them together with your tongue dangling. By the look on your face, something told him that you were more than happy he’d interrupted you! “Yeah..that’s how you should look. Happy as fuck.” Shoving his thumb between your puckered lips, he’d then bend down to shove his tongue into your mouth for a sloppy peck.

but something also told him that you couldn’t be satisfied with merely sucking him off. You needed—no, you deserved more.

“Are we done? If so, imma be disappointed.”

“Of course not, baby..I got you.”

Regardless of how lightheaded that orgasm had made him, he leaned forward and took you into his grasp. Hoisting you up in one fell swoop to carry you to the bed that was a mere ten feet away. Once he had you flat against the mattress, he’d make haste in disrobing you of those clothes to render you completely naked. He’d follow suit and tug his sweats until they reached his ankles so he could kick them off. Once the two of you were left with only your bare flesh, Eren wasted no time in pinning both your wrists and ankles behind your head. But not before propping your head up with a pillow. A position that led to excitement riddling your face. From this angle, you could watch it go in and out together. With you exactly where he wanted, your boyfriend began the descent down your torso to that plump center. Those fat lips drenched in slick whilst that aching bud protruded between them. He knew you were already overly sensitive so he didn’t want to keep you waiting for much longer but the selfish glutton in him just had to have a taste of that divine nectar.

“Just be patient with me..’need to make sure you’re good and ready first..”

immediately, your eyes would roll to the back of your skull and a nervous giggle arose as well. Make no mistake, he allowed you to have your fun but it was his turn to take control now. Delving headfirst between your thighs, Eren began his quick descent onto that swollen pearl and lapped around it. You’d immediately grasp at the sheets, eyes trailing to the back of your skull as those feet dangled in the air. He’d keep you at bay with a hand clutched around your throat as he continued exploring those folds with his tongue. For a split second, his head would raise to make eye contact with you.

“Fuck..you really needed this, huh? You’re already starting to come..” alluding to the fact that your juices were spurting out as he scooped his tongue inside of your hole and rubbed that sensitive clit. It seemed his skills grew better and better each time you two had sex. He was far more attune to your needs and desires, even more aware of them than you were sometimes.

“Y-yeah!..how’d you learn to do that?” “What can I say? I got a hell of a teacher...” tossing you a wink and a smirk because you truly did turn him out when it came to the bedroom. He’d continue lapping and tracing his tongue intricately throughout your folds until he received the beautiful payout of you squirting all over his face. Try as you might to harbor restraint, it was to no avail and of no use…that tight entrance would spasm before more would spill forth. Just to increase that pleasure, Eren added a finger in hopes of coaxing more out.

“Give me that cum, baby..that’s it. Make a fucking mess for me..” and you certainly didn’t disappoint. The shower of sweet juices continued for another minute or so before you’d lie there, spent and breathless from such an amazing orgasm. Once he’d gotten his fill, your boyfriend would return to the surface for air and to get a good look at your current state. “You taste so good..love making you squirt in my fucking face..” Breaking into a sadistic chuckle, he’d readjust so that his palms were stationed firmly on the backs of your thighs and that he was centered right between them..in that moment, he’d slide his throbbing member across the sensitive core and tease it for a moment. But you couldn’t handle that at the moment.

“Eren, please don’t play..I need you so fucking bad right now..”

nearly in tears from the pending overstimulation and the overwhelming need to be stuffed full of his cock. Your walls would ache and spasm in anticipation; so much so, he’d watch you reach for his hips to guide him in. But naturally, nothing with this man came completely easy…he had to mess with you a bit for all of the resistance earlier. Just as you went to grab him, he’d pin those wrists back in one fell swoop with one hand and use the other to press into your stomach.

“I know you do…that’s why you’re gonna beg me for it.” Immediately being met with a look of shock and a bit of infuriation. Even so, you’d remain there, lying in wait until he got what he wanted.

“I mean, you were being all fussy earlier..I’m not convinced you really deserve it..c'mon, princess…change my mind.” he was so assured of himself and honestly, you were in no position to attest. The desire grew stronger with every passing moment and if he didn’t deliver soon, you were bound to implode. “Fuuuck, Eren! Please—“ “That’s better but not quite..tell me how badly you need me to fuck you.” Besides, when he hovered above you like this, looking so fucking attractive and domineering, you felt no other choice but to submit. So setting your pride aside, (y/n) began to grovel..whimpering and bucking your hips to meet the friction of his shaft rubbing against your wet folds. You’d tell him how good he made you feel and that your body was his for the taking, unequivocally. Finally, that submission and trust he had craved..best believe, he was going to take care not to break it. After your speech, he’d seem content and proceeded to tap the head of that appendage against you before gripping the base and making one full glide across the outside and shoving it inside. Sucking his teeth and moaning as he made place between that flesh.

“Oh fuck…that’s it, gorgeous. Right there..”

you’d release a whimper of your own as you became acclimated to that thick shape. You’d clench around him once before releasing and he knew he couldn’t sit idle for long. With haste, he’d begin slamming his hips forward, quickly trying to establish some semblance of a rhythm so that he didn’t blow his load too quickly. Upon being immersed in that juicy cunt, he’d find his knees buckling from the sensation.

“..pussy’s so fucking tight..and warm..oh God, I love you so much..” his whiny yet deep moans complimented by the sounds of smacking flesh. With your hands now planted firmly on your asscheeks, per his instructions, you’d keep it spread open so that he had ample room to give you both the satisfaction you both desired. Suddenly, his strokes would increase in speed and depth; really stretching you out. Jolting that body around as those perky tits bounced from the force. “Fuck!… babyyyy…” “I know, baby. I know..you just look so pretty when I’m digging you out. I can’t help but fuck you this hard.” Cooing to you as he bent down to plant soft kisses along your forehead. You’d cry out, maneuvering your hands to his back, digging your nails into it..you’d never felt pleasure like this with anyone else. The way he made love to you was incomparable. Even when you fought against it, he knew your body’s needs and wanted more than anything to satisfy them.

“That’s right, princess..let me fuck that stress out of you..let that mind go blank. Just focus on taking this dick.” Whispering in your ear as you held him close.

eventually, your legs would coil around his waist and your eyes would trail to the back of your skull in a haze of sheer ecstasy. You didn’t know what to do with yourself..all except fall apart underneath him. Your body was a bundle of tight nerves, bound together by the building ecstasy and you were bound to explode any minute. Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t done teasing quite yet..instead, he had one more move he just had to try in hopes of sending you over the edge.

“Eyes on me, baby..yeah, I need to see that pretty face right now.”

garnering a smile as he leaned back up and maneuvered his arms to fall into the center of your torso. Suddenly, you’d feel a slight pinch of your nipples before he began to rub them slowly. Tracing tiny circles as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. It was very apparent you couldn’t handle it by the way that cunt twitched around his shaft..you were bound to explode at any moment. Mouthing off about how good it feels as he made alternating motions on those sensitive buds; rolling them between his fingertips, squeezing and even leaning down to suckle them for a brief moment. The sensation lasted for a few minutes before he’d return his attention back to ensuring you got your well deserved orgasm. This time, with a bit more aggression because he recalled how excited you’d gotten when he grasped your throat.

“Oh my God…fuck! ‘m gonna come—“

“Then do it..come f’r me, slut..give me what I want.”

the name sending you into an absolute spiral as he never spoke that way on a regular basis and would never think to disrespect you. But this was exactly what you craved. To be used and made devoid of all feelings except pleasure. Suddenly, you’d feel his fingertips squeezing your jaws as he increased his speed yet again..this time, feeding you the deepest, longest strokes he could muster. The two of you would spout off filthy, steamy remarks at one another through gritted teeth, intense glares and breathy moans as you reached down to aid him by stroking your aching bud.

“ ‘m so fucking close, baby. I don’t think I can hold it..”

“Fuck yes you are..that pussy’s gripping me so tight right now..goddamn.”

Eventually, those thrusts became rather sporadic and Eren was rapidly losing both his composure and stamina. The both of you were so near your peaks that it was only a matter of time before you exploded. You’d try to outlast him but as he maintained that clutch on your jaw, he’d lean down to spit into your mouth, letting that trail drip down onto your tongue as you stuck it out. He knew what was coming and he couldn’t be vexed to continue anticipating it so your boyfriend decided to assist with a little extra lubrication.

“Get yourself off..I’m not fucking waiting..” Without hesitation, (y/n) scooped that saliva out your mouth and onto your fingertips to massage that clit once more. You were rubbing so fast, your head began to grow fuzzy and soon, nothing but an image of static and blackness would fill your vision as you released all over him; voiding yourself of all those warm, sweet sticky juices as they sprayed his abdomen. Right above the incisions from some prior operations..he wore it as a badge of honor quite frankly. That a woman who once took care of him, was now having all of her wants and needs fulfilled. His cock sat idly inside of you until that stream became too powerful and all but pushed him out. That’s when he’d simply grasp the base of his throbbing member and tap against your slit.

“Shit! Oh my gosh..”

“Ahhh..fuck. That’s it..I knew if I got in it deep enough, you’d squirt for me again, baby. That’s my girl..”

“Fuuuck, it feels so good!”

You’d continue spraying until you convulsed uncontrollably. He was still in awe of the mess you’d made but there was still the task of releasing his own. Although he loved the sight of you in such a vulnerable state, he couldn’t let up. Grasping your hips once more, he’d tug you down onto it and continue drilling you with his cock. This time, to relieve himself.

“Hold still, I’m not yet…need to..come inside of you..”

clutching the backs of your thighs, Eren relentlessly shoved that thick cock back inside of you, pumping sporadically until he felt his own legs begin to quiver. It wouldn’t be long before his stride broke so he’d bend down to grant you one last kiss and sweet nothing. Cradling the side of your head into his palms in an intimate manner. With baited, sporadic breath and whiny cries, he’d pour his soul out to you. Becoming almost obiedient and subservient himself.

“I love you! fuck…I love you so much...”

“I love you too..”

“Am I making you feel good? Did I do a good job? Can I come inside of you..please, baby. Can I?”

and without hesitation, you’d nod your head profusely and grant him his wish. But not without sending him spiraling with your last statement.

“Yes, please! Come in this pussy, daddy..I need it.” And from that moment on, Eren fell to pieces. Collapsing his entire body weight onto your own as your legs coiled around his waist, ensuring he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted. His final thrust came in a sharp, forceful thud before he’d begin to pulsate and eventually, release every last drop of remaining semen he had to offer. Emptying his balls inside of you shamelessly. Already spent from his earlier orgasm, he’d let out an ear curdling grunt, allowing you to claw into his back because he knew he’d lost all semblance of control and had probably been a bit rough. However, none of that mattered..you both were utterly satisfied and it was apparent by the puddle of tears streaming down each of your faces. Never had either of you experienced lovemaking so powerful that it reduced you to literal tears.

eventually, he’d finish pumping the remnants into you and soon, find the strength to pull out. Once he was able to gather his own bearings, he’d turn his attention to you.

“Are you okay, princess? I'm gonna go grab you some water and a towel real quick—“

even insisting he’d help you to the bathroom afterwards to avoid an infection and get cleaned up properly. However, he was shocked to find that his words were falling completely on deaf ears! That’s when he’d turn around to see you sound asleep..completely knocked from the events that just transpired. All he could do was laugh to himself not only out of pure pride but the fact that you truly needed this reset. Although he admired and looked up to your hard work ethic, even the most brilliant of brains needed rest. Those test materials, patients and everything else would be there when you awoke..but for now, you could focus on yourself!

taglist: idenwhims @blaxcunicorn @valentineluvu @cocoacunt @charminstasia @star0bsessi0n @mrsackermanfeed @aquabby21

[makeitworse]

SEOUL CITY

♬ seungcheol as your older bf. (age gap hcs. 18+)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HE SAYS MY ATTITUDE OUT OF CONTROL ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TELL ME WHAT TO DO, MR GENERAL

✦ the first time you called him “oppa,” he flinched. not because he didn’t like it— oh he did, too much— but it hit him like bricks just how young you sounded when you said it. how wrong it should feel. it never stopped you, though. and he’d never ask you to.

✦ he didn’t act on his feelings at first. he’s well aware of just how much older he is, how often people talk. but you’re a persistent little thing: always coming to him for advice, always calling late at night, always so damn sweet when you look up at him and say his name like he’s your whole world. so eventually, inevitably, he gives in.

✦ the power imbalance isn't lost on him. he pays for everything. teaches you things he’s learned over the years. set boundaries you’re too passive to set for yourself. cheol justifies it as protection— but there's a part of him that likes it. the dependency. the trust. how you lean on him, need him.

✦ cheol spoils you in ways that blur the line between boyfriend and provider. gas tanks full, appointments paid for, new clothes ‘just because’. he’ll never say it out loud, but it’s like his way of staking his claim, you know? taking care of you in a way no one else could compete.

✦ he’s incredibly protective. doesn’t like you staying out late without him, gets irritated if you mention a guy friend your age. he tells himself it’s cause he knows better, knows what boys that young are after. but it’s jealousy. he hates the damn word, but it is. the fear you’ll wake up one day and want someone you can relate to a little more.

✦ he’ll often pull you into his lap when he’s sitting down. he has a tendency to after arguments too. his voice low, hands firm on your waist, tone shifting to tender in a single breath. it’s his way of grounding. a reminder that he’s the one who adores you, and still the one in charge.

✦ “you don’t know what you want yet,” he’d tell you more than once. especially when you try to push his buttons, act older, test his limits. it’s part concern, part arrogance. sometimes he thinks you’re not ready for a ‘real’ relationship— but he’s not strong enough to stay away.

✦ cheol calls you “baby” more than your name. at times it’s “kid,” like when he’s annoyed. other times it’s “good girl,” when you’ve done something that makes him feel pride. there’s a tenderness in it, but also a sense of ownership. like you belong to him in every sense.

✦ it took some time before you actually slept together. there’d been no end of cheol going down on you, making you cry with just his hands. but he never asked for anything in return; always shaking his head when you’d offer. cheol didn’t want to rush, wanted to ease you into it. and you found out why the first time he pulled down his pants. he’s huge. rightfully worried about hurting you. it took about a week of foreplay before he had the courage.

✦ cheol’s usually careful during sex: obsessively so. gentle, slow, constantly checking in. but there’s an underlying tension simmering under his skin. that part of him he suppresses, that wants to utterly ruin you. to make sure no one else will ever measure up. he bites it back— most of the time.

✦ once you called him “daddy,” just as a joke. but with how he went still next to you, his pupils swallowed with black— you knew you had that over him. cheol had promptly plucked you up with two big hands on your waist, tossing you to the nearest couch, hands already unbuckling his belt. he’d lost himself in a way you only rarely get to see. but you try to rile it out of him.

✦ the guilt creeps in during quiet moments. when you’re asleep beside him, curled up peacefully, and he realises just how small you look. remembers the gaps between your worlds. he wonders what your parents really think. what his members bite their tongues about. but cheol doesn’t stop. not when his own advice to himself would be that he probably should. because you sleeping soundly next to him, warm and safe, is all that he gives two shits about.

✦ you told him you love him first. he had hesitated: not because he doesn’t feel it— you’ve got no idea how deeply he does— but because it’s like he’s holding something fragile in his hands. and if he says it back, there’s no undoing it. no going back. but he does anyway. “i love you too, my girl.” and he knows then that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

notes: another age gap fic by attie welcome to the club coups og post

taglist (join here): @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @pinkpunkdynamite @babycaratdeul @sseungcheols @cheers2hani @chocolattexyz @riyahwooahae @macheriezz @onceuponateenagetrash @choshushu @theold8 @thedragonholder @jihooniesss @markkiatocafe @channieschubbycake @okinawwa @sseungcheols @cheers2hani @accalus @hhwksixjshs @priisprii @wenhuihuii @t-bag2 @natalicss @jmkookie0 < can’t tag

[bucketsp]

pazzi - best friends but real lovey dovey on each other and paige does anything azzi wants her to do in front of their teamates

the space between us

pairing : pazzi

content : fluff, slightt angst (friends to lovers, mutual pining)

a/n : thank you anon for this request 🙏 i changed it up a little bit, but i hope you still loveee. also based it off of 23 - 24 roster because i miss niknik and lili. thank you as well for the support on snow day and repped, if you haven't read those, maybe u should? please remember this is all fiction. enjoy reading!

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

from the day they met, it was always something a little more with them.

like the way azzi would ask, “can i sit here?” on every away-game bus ride, even though paige always saved her the window seat.

or the quiet, “can i have a sip?” as she reached for paige’s water bottle mid-practice. and paige never said no, she never even blinked.

they were best friends. that’s what they told everyone.

but best friends didn’t flirt like that, didn’t look at each other like this, didn’t act like it had always been them, a team of two, orbiting each other, no one else getting close enough to matter.

they didn’t need to say it out loud.

they had each other. and that was enough.

until it wasn’t.

it started with azzi spending more time with this girl from the track team. bree. funny, loud, magnetic in a way that drew people in. she was the kind of person who never hesitated, especially with azzi when she asked her out right at the door of the champions center, handed her a smoothie and said, “you free friday?”

paige saw it from across the court, of course. yet all she did was watch azzi smile back and say yes.

and something in her chest cracked open, soft and sharp at the same time.

not because she was jealous, not exactly. she was happy for her, but because suddenly she wasn’t the first one azzi told about her day, and suddenly the pre-practice routines were off, the stolen glances in the locker room or the shared inside jokes as the team was being told off by geno.

and paige didn’t know what to do with that.

so she did nothing.

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

practice the next day was tense. azzi kept looking at paige like she wanted to say something. paige kept pretending not to see it.

and then, during a full-court drill, paige fumbled a pass and muttered under her breath.

azzi jogged over, concern on her face. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” paige said, too quickly. “you don’t have to check on me.”

“what does that mean?”

“nothing"

“paige.."

“just go, az.”

the silence that followed was deafening.

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

they didn’t talk for two days.

paige stayed late in the gym, long after everyone else had left. it was easier to be around ghosts than to look azzi in the eye and feel that ache in her chest grow stronger.

until friday night, when azzi walked in just as paige was lining up a free throw. she didn’t say anything, just caught the ball on the rebound and passed it back.

paige stared at her.

azzi crossed her arms. “you’ve been avoiding me"

paige swallowed. “i’ve been busy, march madness is coming up”

“you’ve been hiding"

a beat.

“maybe.”

“why?”

paige was silent. she caught the ball again, dribbled once. twice. then let it fall.

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

it starts at ted’s.

because it always does. late-night runs after big games, when the adrenaline’s still in their veins and no one wants to go back to their dorm just yet. it’s loud inside, a little sticky, the lights a shade too bright, but it feels like home. like uconn tradition.

paige sits in the corner booth with azzi pressed in beside her. her thigh is warm against paige’s. her hair’s tied back, but a few loose strands fall forward, and paige has to grip her root beer float like it’s keeping her alive.

they’re not talking. not really. just sitting in that kind of silence that’s not awkward, but heavy. azzi’s bouncing her knee. paige keeps glancing at her. she looks nervous. too quiet, too still in the wrong ways.

"paige,"

and even before paige could even look directly at her azzi's already leaning in.

slow.

intentional.

her hand brushes against paige’s jaw like a whisper.

and then she kisses her.

it’s soft. hesitant. it tastes like cherry coke and something sweeter. like hope.

and paige, she’s waited forever for this, dreamed of it, begged for it in silence.

but she pulls back.

just an inch. just enough.

"azzi, stop. you're drunk"

“i'm not, paige.”

paige tenses. "you are, what happened to bree?"

azzi looks down, then back at her. her eyes are clearer than they should be, considering how many fries she just devoured. “i have to tell you something.”

paige stiffens. her hands go cold, but she feels a little hope inside her.

“i never told you,” azzi’s voice doesn’t waver. “we broke up.”

paige’s heart stutters. “when?”

“a week ago.”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

azzi lets out a breath. “because i didn’t want to lie to you about why. or pretend like it didn’t matter when it did.”

paige stays quiet, letting her talk.

“she cheated on me,” azzi says flatly. “with some guy from the LSU football team. i found out the day after that scrimmage. i didn’t tell anyone.”

paige stares. “what?”

azzi shrugs, like it’s nothing. like it’s old news even though it’s clearly not. “i think part of me already knew. not about the guy. just… that she wasn’t the person i wanted to tell good things to. not anymore.”

and then she looks at paige.

really looks at her.

“you were.”

paige swallows. hard. her throat feels too tight. the air’s too heavy.

“you always were,” azzi adds.

paige’s eyes flutter shut. “then why’d you pick her?”

“because you scared the shit out of me,” azzi says. “and because i thought i had more time.”

it’s not perfect. it’s not a line. it’s just true.

“you’re sure?” she asks. “this isn’t about bree?”

azzi shakes her head immediately. “this has never been about bree. not even once.”

“she cheated on you.”

“and you stayed,” azzi says. “even when i made it impossible.”

paige covers her eyes. her voice cracks when she speaks.

“you don’t get to kiss me if you’re not sure.”

“i’m sure,” azzi says.

and this time when she kisses her, it’s different.

hungrier, deeper, like nothing else mattered.

and paige kisses back like she’s drowning. like she finally found the surface.

they don’t even notice kk standing there with her milkshake in hand, eyes wide as saucers.

not until kk blurts, “HOLY SHIT.”

paige freezes. azzi jumps a little, lips still inches from paige’s.

then the rest of the team explodes.

“FINALLY,” aaliyah yells from a booth behind them.

“i knew it,” nika says, pointing her fry at aubrey like she won a bet.

“i had money on them making out before the tournament,” ice mutters.

“you owe me twenty,” aubrey says smugly.

kk just stares. “yo. that was kinda hot.”

paige groans, hiding her face in azzi’s shoulder. azzi’s laughing now, full and free, her arm curling around paige’s waist like it’s always belonged there.

“i guess this means it’s official?” aaliyah calls out.

azzi grins, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“yeah. it’s official.”

and paige, with her heart finally whole in her chest, just nods.

“took you long enough,” nika says.

but paige doesn’t care.

because azzi’s still holding her hand under the table.

and this time, she’s not letting go.

[everest81]

Even if I'm fine with being called specifically "dude" I fucking dies inside seeing that happen once before I transitioned. I didn't even have Tumblr or really grasped how bad it was but I knew in my gut that it was just... Evil. You're denying a woman's identity for what? Not being able to stare at her boobs the whole conversation? Because you think it's some fucking fetish for others to be happy?

For those who are just on the cusp of grasping it, but can't, try imagining someone doing that to a cis person

This is Kathy. Kathy has been a woman since birth, born with specifically female genitalia and body parts, and has a conventionally effeminate body type by 9/10 normal standards. One day, she gets hired by a tech company that has her testing out websites and occasionally games that are very very early in development.

Around a month or two after she's gotten to know the general group of people she's had to and will work with, a new employee named Toby is hired and put into her group. She doesn't know anyone named Toby, nor does any of her friends or immediate family members. A nephew of hers would gladly tell you about Ticci Toby, his second-favorite creepypasta behind Sonic.exe, but nobody knows any IRL Tobys.

Toby completely refuses to call Kathy by her real name, instead insisting that she's referred to by names like Kyle, or Kevin, ECT, when anyone has to refer to her when talking to him. He acts like someone's joking with him, insulting him, or making up a fake employee when anyone else on their team mentions Kathy by her real name. Toby also consistently uses passive-aggressive language about Kathy —or, should he also be by or going to the bathroom, glares at her and matters things she can't quite catch— whenever she goes to the bathroom, insisting that she should be using the men's room.

On one frightening —and possibly dangerous— occasion Toby physically blocked her from the bathroom by standing in front of the doorway and pushing her away from it. It doesn't matter how gently he pushed her, he still pushed her away from a basic necessity. This was Toby's first strike, according to her boss, but if you asked Kathy, "I cannot tell you how many times I've wanted to fucking punch that guy. He's so fucking annoying — I can never get shit done when I have to work with him in any capacity! Got forbid we have to have a meeting! He's either saying anything about anything else to stall time, or taking my shit and telling everyone that some fuckin'.... Mystery member's been busting his ass off for me in the background, or something...! It's always some Kieth or Kurt or-... whoever the fuck he's made up this week."

Everyone, especially Kathy, is incredibly uncomfortable with how Toby acts. Lately he's been getting especially aggressive, as his passive-aggressive remarks about her and her body have been evolving into outright insults and remarks about how "he's slandering God's image of Adam and mankind". Kathy still to this very day has no idea what happened between them, nor does she have any clue why someone like him wanted to physically assault her, beating her behind her office building with a pocket knife —almost slitting her throat— and scarring both her face and her psyche for the rest of her life.

Toby might have been arrested for assault and attempted murder, but she refuses to walk behind any building that vaguely resembles where she was attacked and almost killed... Because she existed.

I am so sick and tired of seeing the trans women around me being slowly hot coaled into the closet and into essentially being forced back into "Men who would really love being women but Can't because they Aren't". It is so painful stop fucking doing this to our trans women. Stop forcing them to be "Fine" with being called dude bro man he and biologically male stop it stop it stop it you are killing her. You are killing her.

[jo-com]

pls alex albon fic next🙏🤞parang awa mo na teh

──★ ｡🫧⋆｡˚ The Backup Plan

Alex Albon x Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: You’ve had a long-standing pact with Alex: If you’re both still single by 30, you’ll marry each other...You’re engaged to someone else now… until Alex drunkenly posts the pact on Twitter. It blows up—and fans vote that you should dump your fiancé.

୨ৎ Genre: Slight angst?, a little smau and a happy ending or nah? read to find out ;)

୨ৎ Note: Send request y'all, also hope you like this! has some grammatical error and stuffs

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

They were sitting on the roof of his apartment, legs dangling over the edge, two beers between them and an entire city below. It was 2:08 AM, the kind of hour that made everything feel quieter, closer, truer.

You were both twenty-one. Young enough to believe in forever, dumb enough to talk about it like it was something you could schedule.

“I’m never gonna find someone,” Alex said, head tilted back to look at the stars. “They either want the driver or the version of me they think lives on yachts.”

You snorted. “Yeah, god forbid someone loves you for your sparkling sarcasm and sleep deprivation.”

He smiled, soft and sideways. The kind he only gave you. “You’re not exactly thriving in the romance department either.”

You leaned back on your elbows, the breeze catching your hair. “I’m holding out for a golden retriever in a human man’s body. Loyal, dumb, likes snacks.”

“That’s literally me,” he said, deadpan.

You turned to him, smirking. “You’re not dumb.”

He blinked. “That’s what you took from that?”

You were quiet for a moment, the laughter settling into something gentler.

And then you said it—half a joke, half a wish:

“Okay, if we’re both still single at thirty, we get married.”

Alex didn’t laugh. He didn’t even hesitate. He looked at you with that warm, steady certainty that always threw you off.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his pinky.

You looped yours with his.

“We’ll probably forget we even said this.”

But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t.

Neither of you ever did.

...

Years slipped through your fingers like sand—quiet, unnoticed, until they weren’t. Now, at twenty-eight, you and Alex were two almost-strangers orbiting around what used to be everything. Birthdays, wins, late-night calls—once sacred little rituals—were now reduced to muted texts and empty-hearted “miss you’s.”

The milestones still came. But they came alone.

The big 3-0 was creeping up now—no longer a distant joke or a silly pact sealed on a rooftop, but a deadline that loomed like a memory you hadn’t made peace with. It sat in the corners of your thoughts, like dust you kept forgetting to clean.

Only this time, something was different.

You were engaged.

To someone steady. Kind. Good. To someone who wasn’t him.

And for the first time since that night on the roof, the deal—the pinky promise you once held like a lifeline—felt like something you had quietly buried in the past. Not because you forgot.

But because remembering it hurt.

...

The proposal had been perfect.

A quiet dinner. Your favorite restaurant. Warm lights, soft music, a ring that sparkled in just the right way. He’d gotten down on one knee and asked, and you’d said yes with a smile that felt real.

It was real. But it wasn’t whole.

Because the first person you wanted to tell—the one person who would’ve rolled his eyes and said “finally, someone’s dumb enough to marry you”—wasn’t there. Not in your inbox. Not in your messages. Not even in your life the way he used to be.

You sent him a picture of the ring anyway.

No caption. Just that. He didn’t reply.

And maybe that should’ve been enough for you to let it go. To finally move forward with both feet planted where they should be.

...

username NOT ALEX ALBON SOFT LAUNCHING HIS HEARTBREAK AT 3AM 😭😭😭

username whoever that girl is… break up with your fiancé. it’s for the grid. for the sport. for the legacy 🏁💍🚩

username no bc if alex tweeted this about ME i would be at his door in a wedding dress IMMEDIATELY 👰‍♀️💅

username the way this man just said “i’m emotionally unavailable but loyal” in one tweet 🥲

username imagine being engaged and the ENTIRE F1 fandom is telling you to go back to alex albon. i would simply fold.

username this tweet has more chemistry than most paddock couples. i fear this ship is sailing with or without her 😭🚢

username alex albon said “what if i caused emotional damage AND chaos in 140 characters” and honestly? he succeeded ✨

username “they forget” — YOU KNOW SHE DIDN’T FORGET BRO 😭 this is pain. i’m feeling it in my chest.

...

Two months later—on a regular Tuesday, when the sky was gray and your phone was face-down—he tweeted it.

Your eyes widened instantly as you red between his tweet— Your breath caught without permission.

And that feeling—the one you'd spent months, maybe years, trying to bury—rose fast and vicious in your chest. That familiar tightness. That ache between your ribs. The one that only ever belonged to him.

Confusion hit first. Then came the anger.

What was he thinking? why now? why publicly?

And then came the other realization.

Why do i care so much?

Because everything was different now. You had a ring on your finger. A man who loved you. A wedding date marked in ink.

You were getting married.

Just not to the boy who once pinky-promised you forever at 2:08 a.m.

And that’s the problem.

...

You didn’t hear him come in.

You were still sitting on the couch, phone limp in your hand, the tweet burned into your retinas like some kind of confession you hadn’t meant to write—but somehow belonged to you anyway.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up. He was standing in the doorway, coat still on, holding a takeout bag and a look that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed. “Hey. You’re back early.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just walked in slowly, set the food on the counter, and stared at you in that quiet way he always did when he was thinking too hard and trying too hard not to show it.

“You’re trending,” he said.

Just like that.

You opened your mouth, but there was nothing ready to come out. Not an excuse. Not an explanation. Nothing that could make this better.

He sat across from you. No anger. No raised voice. Just… restraint.

“That tweet,” he said softly. “The one about the marriage pact.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a breath. It wasn’t a laugh. It wasn’t a scoff. It was disappointment, paper-thin and sharp.

“Do you love him?”

Your heart stuttered.

“No,” you said too quickly. “I mean—not like that. Not now. I don’t—”

“But you did.”

Silence.

He nodded, slow and defeated, like the answer had already been written in every pause, every time you’d flinched at Alex’s name, every time you smiled too softly at an old memory.

“I know I’m not him,” he added, barely above a whisper.

And the worst part was—you didn’t even know if that was meant to comfort you or remind you.

“I’m trying, Y/N,” he said. “I’ve been trying. But I feel like I’m holding a place someone else still owns.”

The room felt small. The air too still.

“I chose you,” you whispered. “I said yes.”

“But have you let him go?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it?

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Pleeease can you write something where reader takes care of Alfie's psoriasis?? Like he's trying to act super macho about it, like it doesn't bother him but then gets super soft when she starts treating it 🥺

“Loving you”

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Alfie’s Masterlist

Summary: Alfie can’t help but let his guard down — and his softer side show — when you tend to the skin condition he usually keeps hidden.

WC: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, dirty talk.

The cold air filtered through the open windows of the Solomons’ home. The moonlight painted the room in hues of pale blue, casting long shadows over the heavy wooden furniture and the worn rug underfoot.

Alfie trudged into the sitting room, his broad shoulders seemed to sag slightly, the day’s weight visible in the furrow of his brow. But you noticed something else too, the way his hands flexed at his sides, the subtle shift in his stance. He was uncomfortable, you could see it clear as the day, and you could also see the irritated skin on his neck, raw and red, flaking with scales that trailed down along his flesh.

“Let me guess,” you began, tilting your head to appraise him. “It’s acting up again.”

He stopped short, his face an unreadable mask. “Dunno what you’re on about, woman.” His voice was gruff and dismissive. “I’m bloody fine, ain’t I?”

“Alfred Solomons,” you said, standing to meet him, hands on your hips. “You’ve been scratching yourself like a dog with fleas for days. Let me see.”

“Look,” he began, throwing up his hands defensively, “this ain’t a bloody—what’s the word—interrogation, yeah? Just got home, haven’t I? Thought we’d sit down, have a nice supper, maybe a drop o’ rum after, yeah? Not get a bloody inquisition.”

“Come on, Alfie,” you said gently, breaking the silence. “Sit down.”

He turned to look at you, his brows furrowing. “I told ya, love, it’s nothin’. Just a bit o’ skin, right? Nothin’ to fuss over. I’ve lived with it this long, ain’t I?”

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “Yes, you have, and you’ve done a fine job of ignoring it, but it’s bothering you, I can see that. Now, sit down and let me help.”

Alfie’s lips pressed into a firm line, his pride warring with the truth of your words. You’d seen him win fights with men twice his size, talk his way out of impossible situations, but here he was, hesitating like a child caught misbehaving. It was almost endearing if you ignored the fact that he was internally suffering.

Alfie stared at you, his jaw twitching as he weighed his options, he could refuse—he was, after all, Alfie Solomons, a man who answered to no one— but there was only one person who always made Alfie give in, and that was you, his wife. With a grumble under his breath, he lowered himself onto the armchair, sprawling out like a man whose kingdom had just fallen.

“Woman, you’re bloody relentless,” he muttered under his breath, the way he said it lacked any real heat; it was more a gruff acknowledgment of defeat.

“Take off your shirt,” you said softly.

Alfie cocked his head, as a smirk began to slowly form on his lips.

“Right, well, love, if you fancied seein’ me bollock naked, yeah? You could’ve just said so, straight up. Saved us all the fuckin’ theatrics. I’d have you up against that fuckin’ wall by now, makin’ a goddamn mess of things.”

You didn’t even blink, you knew how Alfie’s defense mechanism had always been humor, he’d crack a joke to avoid taking things too seriously. But you knew that behind every laugh, every sarcastic remark, there was a man scared to take a hit to his pride by asking for help. After all, he was forced to carry every burden on his own all his life, that until he met you.

“I’m serious, Alfie.” Voice flat, no smile this time. “Take the shirt off.”

Alfie huffed, his fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with deliberate slowness. “You’d think I was some feeble old man the way you’re carryin’ on,” he grumbled. “I don’t need lookin’ after, love. I’m a bloody force of nature, yeah?”

“Yes, you’re a force of nature,” you agreed with a smile, “but even storms need a bit of care sometimes.”

His shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing, his shirt finally coming off and landing in a crumpled heap beside him. You bit your lip as your eyes roamed over his body, the patches of red, inflamed skin were stark against his otherwise light complexion. Some areas were cracked and dry, while others looked painfully raw.

“Alfie,” you murmured, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s worse than last time.”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply, his tone rough. “Don’t you bloody start, right? I know what it looks like. Just a bit of dry skin, that’s all.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m not starting anything. I just want to help. Dry skin doesn’t look like this.”

He relaxed under your touch, though he still looked straight ahead, his jaw set stubbornly. “Fine, then. Do your worst.”

You knelt in front of him, settling between his legs as he sat back in the worn armchair, the lamplight cast a soft glow over his battered chest, the heat radiating from his skin palpable before you even touched him. He’d ignored it, neglected it for so long that it was the worst you’d ever seen it, and it must be hurting him so much, those angry red patches that bloomed across his torso and shoulders, the edges raw with peeling skin, irritated and roughened by days of stubbornness.

Your fingers moved carefully, barely grazing his side at first, his muscles tensed beneath the contact, a knee-jerk flinch more from instinct than actual pain, as if he was used to bracing for something harsher.

“Not so bad, you said?” you teased, glancing up at him.

He grunted. “I’ve had worse.”

“That why you haven’t even taken your shirt off when we fuck?” you asked, eyes locked on him. “’Cause you didn’t want me to see how bad it got?”

There was a pause, a flicker behind his eyes, something he tried to smother with a scoff. You knew you’d hit a sensitive topic by saying that.

“Well, aren’t you a fuckin’ detective now, eh? Bloody Sherlock Holmes,” he let out a dry, sharp laugh. “Didn’t think you needed to see it. S’not pretty. Nothin’ romantic about it.”

"You shouldn’t feel insecure about it," you said.

"Pfff, insecure? Bollocks, that is," he scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Men like me—we don't do insecure, right? That's for… for poets and posh lads with too much time on their hands."

But you saw the truth behind his eyes, that split-second crack in the armor, Alfie would never admit to feeling insecure about the way he looked, not even to you, his biggest confidant. And so you decided not to push the subject, you knew better than to fight a war you couldn’t win with words, besides, you had better ways of proving how handsome he was to you, like worshipping him with your mouth, or cunt.

“It must be driving you mad.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a semblance of a smirk. “Got more important things to worry about than a bit o’ itching.”

But you weren’t fooled, beneath his bravado, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched as though resisting the urge to scratch.

“Stay still,” you instructed, scooping a dollop of ointment onto your fingers.

He flinched as you began to apply the salve, his usual boldness faltering. “Bloody cold, that is,” he muttered.

“It’s supposed to be soothing,” you said, your voice low, patient. You leaned in, working the ointment into his skin with slow, deliberate movements.

His skin was hot to the touch, the irritation beneath your fingertips angry and inflamed. You moved with care, smoothing the salve in small circles, avoiding the worst of the raw spots. Alfie exhaled through his nose, his body twitching beneath your hands before slowly relaxing, like he couldn’t help but lean into your touch once the sting eased, giving way to relief.

“That stuff smells awful,” he said, wrinkling his nose. There it was that stubbornness again, like accepting help, or letting you soothe the ache, meant weakness. You found it amusing, how in so many ways, this big and dangerous man reminded you of a little boy.

“Doesn’t matter how it smells. It’ll help,” you replied, working your way across his chest, thumbs grazing the curve of his collarbones, tracing along the tender edges with a gentleness that made his throat bob in a tight swallow.

“Still feels like I’m being fuckin’ punished,” he muttered, eyes flicking down to where your hands moved over his ribs.

“You’re not,” you murmured, catching his gaze briefly. “You’re being looked after. Big difference.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackling of the fire. Alfie’s eyes were fixed on a point just above your head, his jaw tight as though willing himself not to react. As you spread the ointment slowly over the worst of the irritation, you felt it happen, the first shift in his breathing, from shallow and tense to something deeper. The slow drop of his shoulders, no longer braced against the tenderness. The subtle release of his clenched fists, his fingers unfurling where they’d been pressed into his thighs.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Of course I do,” you replied without hesitation. “You’re my husband.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief. “Yeah, well. Don’t reckon you signed up for all this, did you? A husband with bad skin and worse manners.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, smiling up at him. “But I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

“You’re good at this,” he mumbled after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

“Good at what?”

“Lookin’ after me. Puttin’ up with me. All of it, really.”

He was so stubborn sometimes, too caught up in his own worries to realize that you didn’t do this out of obligation, you did it because you loved him, because giving him this kind of comfort was something you’d gladly offer every single time he needed it.

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you resumed. “It’s not putting up with you, Alfie. It’s loving you.”

He turned his head fully this time, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the vulnerability in his gaze took your breath away. “You’ve got a heart too big for your own good, woman,” he said quietly.

“And you’ve got a heart you try too hard to hide,” you replied, leaning forward to kiss his temple.

He closed his eyes at the touch, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t tell anyone about this, yeah? Got a reputation to maintain.”

“All your secrets are safe with me,” you promised with a smile.

For the next hour, you worked diligently, your fingers gentle as they massaged the ointment into his skin. Alfie, for his part, remained unusually quiet, his usual stream of sharp wit replaced by a rare, unguarded vulnerability.

When you were finished, you sat back on your heels, surveying your work, the redness had diminished slightly, the skin looking less angry.

“There,” you said, capping the tin. “That should help.”

He looked down at his chest, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached out, his large hand cupping your cheek.

“You’re a good woman,” he said gruffly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Don’t reckon I tell you that enough.”

“You don’t,” you agreed, leaning into his touch.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head, eh?”

The tin of ointment clattered softly against the wood floor as Alfie pulled you up into his lap, the gruff tenderness in his hands making your breath hitch. He didn’t bother with words, not at first, he simply held you there, his rough palms trailing up and down your back, grounding you both in a moment of rare softness.

“Come here, pet,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, a low rumble in the space between you.

You settled on top of him, your knees bracketing his thighs. His beard scratched softly against your cheek as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the faint lavender oil you always dabbed behind your ears before bed.

He buried his head against your chest, breathing deep like he needed to memorize the scent of you to survive. He made a sound low in his throat, something between a sigh and a purr, like a satisfied cat curling up in a patch of sunlight. There were only a handful of moments in his life where Alfie Solomons had let the world slip far enough to be this soft, and all of them had been with you, the only person he trusted enough to see this side of him.

“You smell good,” he said, the words muffled against your skin. Relaxing moments like this always softened the sharp lines of his face, making him look younger, almost boyish. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his beard, and he sighed, the sound deep and contented.

He shifted beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips as though anchoring himself. “Dunno what I’ve done to deserve you,” he said, the words heavy with sincerity.

“I don’t like when you say that. You’re not bad, Alf” you replied with a small smile. “Under all that grumbling and growling, you’re a good man.”

It was the truth. Yes, maybe he’d done bad things, things he couldn’t forget, things that haunted him every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror. But you saw more, so much more. You saw a man who had raised himself from nothing, who’d survived when the world tried to break him, who’d watched his friends die in trenches and still found the strength to carry on. You saw a man who’d opened his heart to you, who’d bought you your dream house and treated you like a queen in her own palace. Who had only ever been gentle with you, patient, kind, giving, even when he didn’t know how to be those things with himself.

His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. “Not sure half the blokes around here would agree with that one, love.”

“Don't care what they think, they're not my husband,” you said simply. “You are.”

That seemed to strike something deep in him. His eyes softened, and his hands moved to cradle your face, his touch reverent. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “I am, ain’t I?”

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding at the same time. He kissed you like a man who knew how fleeting happiness and peace could be, who understood the weight of a moment like this.

The kiss deepened, his hands moving with more urgency now as they traced over your body, making you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Christ, woman,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “You make me feel the same way you did all those years ago.”

You laughed softly, a low, sultry sound that seemed to vibrate right through your chest when he leaned to capture his lips into another kiss. It was still slow, languid, the kind of kiss that made time crawl, your tongues sliding together with unhurried precision. His hands kept wandering, greedy and possessive roaming all over your body, gripping the small of your waist to ground you, kneading the soft flesh of your ass, tracing the dip of your spine, splaying wide across your lower back as if trying to brand you to him.

The hard length of him beneath you was impossible to ignore, thick and insistent against the thin barrier of your underwear, and when you shifted again, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging your cunt over him with maddening friction, he let out a raw, broken sound that made your core clench.

“Gonna ride you,” you murmured, voice thick with hunger. Alfie was a man who thrived on control, sure, but when it came to you, he had no problem handing over the reins now and then. In fact, he loved it. Watching his missus bounce on top of him, taking every bit of pleasure she deserved? That was a big, fat yes for Alfie.

You grinned at his reaction, emboldened by the crack in his usually composed demeanor, the way his eyes had gone half-lidded, pupils blown wide, jaw tight with restraint. You reached between your bodies to undo the fastening of his trousers, unable to wait one second more than necessary.

He chuckled low and hungry. “Yeah? Right, well—fuckin’ hell, woman—’course you wanna ride it.” He spread his hands, leaned back like he was bartering with God. “I’m all yours, ain’t I? Go on then, fuckin’ take what’s yours. Ruin me proper.”

He watched you, eyes locked on your hands, on how they were working his pants open, making his chest rise and fall with deep, shaky breaths. His hands didn’t stay behind, his rough fingers were roaming over your ribs, up your sides, then down again to knead your thighs, your ass, as if he truly didn’t know where to land next.

“You’re too bloody good at this,” he muttered, voice all hoarse and reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck, how he’d landed such a beautiful woman, convinced her to marry him, and now had her on top of him eager to please him.

"It's the experience, been riding you dumb for ten years," you said with a smirk.

"Mhm," he huffed. "And you get better every fuckin' time, pet."

He loved this, especially on those days when he was bone-tired, when his skin was on fire, his back ached, his knees throbbed, his hips screamed, or the days when he had to deal with “fucking cunts,” as he’d put it. Nothing would make him happier than leaning back, letting go, and having a damn good orgasm by doing absolutely nothing, just watching you take control and do all the work for him.

You’d barely gotten his trousers down before his cock sprang free, slapping against his belly, so thick, so heavy, flushed and glistening at the tip like he’d been waiting all fucking day for this moment. The second your fingers wrapped around him, firm and instinctive, he gasped and his hips jerked like he didn’t give a toss about dignity anymore.

“You’re too bloody impatient,” you shot back with a teasing smirk, stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist just enough to make him curse under his breath.

You shifted your weight, lining yourself up, your thighs bracketing his hips as you positioned yourself over him. His hands flew to your hips, holding you steady, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, as the head of his cock brushed against your slick heat. Your breath hitched at the contact, at how easily your soaked folds parted to welcome him, at how swollen and desperate you already were.

“Impatient?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Love, you’ve been teasin’ me for the past ten minutes. If anyone’s impatient, it’s you.”

You rocked your hips just enough to let his head catch at your entrance, not yet taking him, not fully, just dragging your wetness over him, back and forth, until he growled.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman,” he snapped, his hips jerking up, desperate for more friction, to be buried inside you. “You tryin’ to kill me? Playin' this bloody games with your poor 'ol husband? My fuckin' heart can't take this teasin', It's delicate, It is.”

“But it's too fun to tease you,” you whispered, lowering yourself an inch more. The stretch made you gasp, thick and delicious as always, and you swore you could feel every ridge and every vein of him.

He was watching your face now, intently, like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen, but you could see how hard he was fighting the urge to slam up into you. “Don’t fuckin’ tease,” he growled. “Be a good girl and sit on it proper.”

You obliged, how could you not when he talked like that? You sank down in one slow, torturous motion, your walls clenching around him inch by inch. The sound he made was filthy, a half groan half praise, guttural and deep. His head fell back, teeth gritted, chest rising with labored breaths as you took every last inch of him, seated fully, snug and wet around him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he rasped. “That’s it. That’s my pet. Perfect fuckin' cunt, still as tight as the day I first filled her up, yeah?"

You moaned, rolling your hips in a slow circle, grinding down with a filthy little twist at the end that made his cock drive right up into that sweet, aching spot inside you. Your breath caught sharp in your throat, eyes going hazy, Alfie groaned low like the wind had been knocked clean out of him, his hands clutched at your hips, guiding you with a kind of reverence, like you were something holy and he was the lucky bastard who got to worship at the altar.

He was trying hard to let you do your thing, let you take your time and move at your own pace, riding him how you wanted, but God, you were squeezing him so tight and dripping all over his cock, that it was almost imppossible to stop himself from thrusting up into you like a beast.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice frayed and reverent. “Ridin’ me like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

“Maybe I was,” you shot back, voice breathless, your lips brushing his ear as you leaned in.

Alfie met your movements with thrusts of his own, rolling his hips up hard, deep, making you bounce in his lap with every needy grind. His hands gripped your hips, firm but never too harsh, thumbs pressing into your flesh like he needed to memorize every curve, every quake of your body under his. The coarse trail of hair beneath his navel rubbed right up against your clit with every thrust, each drag of his body with that maddening friction made you jolt and shudder.

"Ohh, Alfie... feels so good," you moaned gasping into his mouth, clawing at his shoulders like you couldn’t get close enough. "Please don't stop, don't stop fucking me like that."

“Not stoppin'. Can’t stop when you’re so bloody perfect,” he rasped, his eyes dropping to where your soaked cunt was swallowing him again and again, wet sounds filling the air with each slap of skin against skin. “Perfect cunt. Perfect tits. Perfect wife.”

His head snapped forward so he could bite at your throat, not hard, just enough to make you whimper. His hands slid up your sides, pushing your slip up with urgency, bunching it around your waist until the fabric was out of his way and he could have a better view of everything, from your body glistening with sweat, your thighs shaking, to the way your soaked pussy kept taking his cock like you needed it.

That was the thing with Alfie, he never knew where the fuck to look, it was all too good. Your supple breasts, so soft and perfect, jiggling with every thrust, just begging to be grabbed. Your face, fuck, your face was so hot, those little pouts you made, the way your eyes fluttered shut when he hit a good spot deep inside you. And the way his thick cock slid in your cunt, coming out so wet and slick, your juices coating his navel and trickling down to coat his balls.

“Jesus Christ, love,” he rasped, voice thick. “You’re grippin’ me so tight—fuckin’ hell…”

You leaned forward, your hands braced against his chest, hair falling around your face as you found the perfect rhythm, grinding down in slow, greedy strokes that made both of you moan. His cock filled you perfectly, thick and hot and stretching you with every thrust of his hips.

Alfie’s attention was drifting, his eyes moved from the place where you two were connected, to the soft bounce of your breasts with every motion, your nipples peeking through the thin, rumpled slip. He licked his lips, rough hands sliding up your waist, over your ribs, until they cupped your breasts and gave them a slow squeeze.

“Look at these fuckin’ things,” he muttered. “Drivin’ me mad, the way they bounce when you ride me like that…”

Then he surged forward, mouth latching onto one of your nipples through the damp fabric, the hot drag of his tongue and the sudden suck of his mouth made you cry out, your hips stuttering as the pleasure hit you like a jolt.

“Alfie—” you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he pulled the slip down, baring your chest fully. He didn’t hesitate, he wrapped his mouth around your nipple and sucked hard, filthy sounds filling the air as he groaned against your skin. His tongue flicked over the stiff peak, then he moved to the other breast, biting down just enough to make your back arch.

"I'd kill a man for your left tit," he mumbled, voice muffled, barely undertandable with his mouth still sucking around your nipple. "And then I'd kill another for the right one. Fuckin' perfect things."

“Shit—Alfie—Feels... so good… so full.” you moaned, grinding harder now, the added stimulation on your nipples sending you spiraling, and if that wasn’t good enough, you felt your clit catching on his pelvis with every thrust down, making your walls clench even tighter around him.

“Fuckin’ ride it—show me how needy you are. You like me suckin’ on your tits while you fuck yourself on my cock, don’t you?”

You nodded frantically, you were so drunk in the pleasure he was giving you that it was impossible to articulate words, you just let that intense pleasure ripple through you.

“You are mine. Mine, yeah? All fuckin’ mine.”

“Yours,” you choked out, your voice breaking on a moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you so perfectly that your body jolted, eyes fluttering shut, vision blurring with pleasure.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s my good wife. So sweet and tight for me, drippin’ on me lap.”

The praise hit you like a shockwave, heat coiling in your gut, your body was desperately trying to chase your high. Just like as if he’d read your mind, sensing what you needed, his hands gripped your hips with force, lifting you up and slamming you down on his cock over and over again at the same time he thrusted up to meet you with rough, almost desperate violence. You weren't riding him anymore, he was fucking you through it.

“That’s it, love,” he muttered, his voice rough and unraveling. “Take it, my filthy little missus. Show me how good I make you feel. Ride it like you mean it.”

You cried out, the pleasure now becoming unbearable, forcing your body to clench hard around him, making your thighs tremble, the slick sound of your cunt milking him was louder now, filthier, wetter with every thrust. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and hot and perfectly angled to build your orgasm.

“Cum for your husband. Let me know I’m the only bastard who can make you feel like this. Just me. Just your fuckin' man.”

You snapped. Your head fell back, your mouth dropped open in a cry of pure ecstasy as you came hard. Your cunt spasmed around him, soaking him in a rush that made him curse and grip you tighter.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s it, pet,” he groaned, voice strangled. “Milk it. Milk my cock just like that. Gonna leave that pretty cunt drippin’ my cum for for weeks. Fuckin’ ruined.”

Alfie followed you just a couple of thrusts later, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerked up one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. He came with a low, shuddering groan, his cock pulsing inside you, flooding you with his cum as he clutched you tight, holding you in place like he couldn’t bear the thought of you ever pulling away.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting, bodies slick with sweat and sex, his release leaking out of you slowly as his softening cock stayed inside. His hand stroked lazily up and down your back, while his lips pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Ahhh—fuckin’ hell, yeah—that’s what a man needs, innit?” he groaned, voice thick and slurred like he was drunk on you. “To come home after a long day of dealin’ with cunts and madness, yeah, and have his sweet little wife sittin' pretty on his cock—riding him like it’s her god-given job.”

"Glad to hear I'm good at my job," you teased, voice raspy, still trying to catch your breath.

"Ohhh, you're the fuckin' best, pet. Not one fuckin' soul like you," he muttered, still breathless. "God broke the mould when he made you, thank fuckin' Christ he did."

His heartbeat thudded beneath your ear, slowing little by little as his breathing evened out. For a long moment, there was just the sound of your shared breaths, the creak of the armchair as he adjusted to hold you closer, with his nose buried in your hair.

Then, softly, quieter than you were used to hearing him, he spoke.

“Thanks for takin' care of me,” he said, a little raw. “Proper, like no one ever has. Not just the shaggin’, love, though—don’t get me wrong, yeah, that’s… exceptional.” He smirked faintly, and you laughed. “But it’s the other things. All the little things you do for me.”

Your throat tightened as he continued, getting to hear this sweet side of him was something you’d never get used to, not because it was rare, he gave it to you more often than he probably even realized, but because it always felt like a little secret, meant only for you.

“I’m not easy, right? I know that. I’m rough and moody and loud as hell. And yet you—you’re always there. Calm. Warm. Always fuckin’ takin’ care of me.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “So I just wanted to say thank you. For stayin’ even after all these years. For seein’ the worst of me and lovin’ me anyway.”

You kissed him then, slow and tender, the kind of kiss that spoke louder than words could ever manage, and when you pulled back, your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not the worst, Alf. You never were.”

He huffed a soft laugh, pulling you tighter against him. Looking at you with eyes that said “I love you. I’d be lost without you by my side.” You felt it in your chest, in your bones. He made you feel like the most loved woman in the world.

“Well, I’ll tell you what you are,” he murmured. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

AN: Thank you so much for your request!! You gave me the perfect opportunity to write this cause I’ve actually been thinking for a while about a fic where the reader takes care of Alfie’s sciatica, but I absolutely loved your idea🩷🫶🏻

I hope that you and everyone else enjoyed this. Your support means the world to me!!

One more Alfie fic to go and then I’m officially done with requests heheh😮‍💨

@ficthots

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[respectthepetty]

I know you think having a gf thing is a joke and honestly I don't think it's a problem when bl actors have gfs or bfs, but they do get massive hate for that for real. do you know that new got so much hate for having a girlfriend? he still gets hate comments from toxic shippers that he should die for heart failure because he got heart problem? and that account that was hating on dunk was really pushing for hate. so of course it was the problem. the number one reason bl/gl actors get massive hate and death threats is literally having a gf/bf. it's a sad reality but i don't think you should treat it lightly.

I don't think this situation is a joke.

It -is- a joke.

And to show you how serious I am about this, I'm not even going to include images. This is just a giant wall of text.

Because outside of the BL-sphere, what are the repercussions of Dunk really dating a girl? What issues would he face if he was really straight? I'm going to skip over bisexuality because Lord knows half these fans don't even register that as a thing. So what harm would come his way if he was an actual heterosexual man?

Nothing. None. Nada.

If he was dating a girl, it would hurt his branded pair, but he could pivot. He could still work in other roles outside of the pair which he has done because being straight or being perceived straight isn't an issue. He would still have a job. He could even do something else outside of the industry. He'd be fine.

Because the issue isn't Dunk having a girlfriend. The issue is him stepping out on his branded pair because people are real weird about monogamy, especially when it comes to two boys because queerness actual queer people are scary to them.

So since you wanted to start with Tay and New, let me remind you that New get threats for having a girlfriend, but when Gun and Tay kissed during New's live, people went out of their way to call Gun, who is perceived as the more effeminate one, a straight up fag in the comments of his posts. Tay also got so much hate that he made a video and people's biggest issue was how could he go from such a masculine guy like New to such a twink like Gun who has never stated his sexuality. Because the issue wasn't Tay 'cheating' on his partner (with the partner literally being right next to him), but was the possibility of Tay kissing an actual gay guy.

Milk of MilkLove was rumored to be dating Noeul of BossNoeul and both of them received online hate at the mere thought they were breaking up their ships, but Noeul has received far more online and in-person hate once he started dressing and presenting a bit more effeminate than previously.

Freen of BeckyFreen was dating Seng formerly of BillySeng. The hate was ridiculous and it has followed Seng even after he departed from Idol Factory, which can easily be seen in the comment section of his posts. I genuinely feel bad for the boy, yet he still is working.

So you know who I do feel bad for all of the time? Publicly out queer folks in this industry!

Max of MaxTul dates women. People knew that and hated it because he was 'cheating' on Tul. But he still had work, and he still has work now. Because being straight does not harm people. Online hate is real. Cyberbullying is real. But Max could pivot if he wanted to like Nanon, Bright, and Win. But you know who never said he was dating anyone? The actual gay guy, Tul! And who retired from acting before he announced he was dating a man? Tul.

Cooheart has gone on record stating that being an openly gay man in the BL industry has severely limited his options. He will not be able to play a straight character because people know he is gay, so the online harassment he receives isn't because of not being faithful to a branded pair, but because he is actually gay, and that harassment has translated into him getting less jobs. He cannot pivot. He is essentially stuck.

When Supanut was hanging out with Sailub, he received more online and in-person harassment because he is the openly queer man. Sailub received comments that he was disrespecting Pon per the usual, but Supanut received comments that were directed not at him just trying to break up a ship, but about him being queer. People were equivocating him to being basically a gay hussy, who just wanted to wreck all the ships, which makes me very interested in what fan interactions will look like once I'm the Most Beautiful Count airs.

Daou gets lots of comments about disrespecting Offroad by hanging out with other guys, but the comments that really upset him were the ones saying HE WAS DISGUSTING FOR POSSIBLY BOTTOMING! Offroad stays quiet mostly, but he was bothered by people saying he was BULKING UP TOO MUCH AS A QUEER MAN!

I'm not even touching Mew and Gulf, but only one of them was labeled a predator and it wasn't the straight one!

So just because some of y'all want to take Joong liking a post about Dunk having a girlfriend seriously does not mean I need to. The online harassment is disgusting because people have parasocial relationships with actors who are simply doing their jobs, but I am not going to sit here on Tumblr dot com slash Respect the Petty and entertain this made up drama that stemmed from Joong liking a post about Dunk being perceived as a straight guy when openly gay people are being significantly more harassed, targeted, and limited for being gay in an industry that profits off of gayness.

Take all this energy you have for me and meet me in the My Sweetheart Jom chat on Friday, so every time someone mentions how Saint isn't believable in his role because he is a 'bottom,' you can give them the same lecture you want to give me about the seriousness of online harassment and its real-world repercussions.

Kay? Okay!

[pieandflannel]

₊˚⊹𐙚 our naive little angel

pairing: sam, dean, castiel x fem!reader

summary: castiel accidentally finds your sex toy, confused, he goes to talk about it with sam and dean

cw: 18+ comical fluff.ᐟ heavy mentions of sex toy [dildo].ᐟ castiel is innocent.ᐟ dean teases you.ᐟ use of y/n.ᐟ established relationship [friends].ᐟ mention of lgbt & trans <3

word count: 1107

julia yaps: don’t let me daydream or else this stuff comes to life

────────── 🪽 ──────────

the bunker was filled with echoes of castiel’s footsteps as he walked down the hallway, as he got closer to the kitchen he could hear the faint sound of kitchen equipment being moved around.

“sam? dean?” castiel popped his head into the kitchen, hoping to find sam and dean. “hey man what up?” sam asked as he looked up to notice the puzzled expression on castiel’s face, a worried frown that was hard to miss. sam was sitting at the table with coffee and dean was making the ‘breakfast of champions’ as he called it. in other words – pancakes, eggs and bacon.

“i uh..” cas started, looking down the hallway to check if you weren’t anywhere near, then proceeded to walk closer to the two boys. sam and dean look at each other in confusion, their friend looks like he was away to spill a government secret or something. “well spit it out cas” dean grunted impatiently.

castiel sat down across from sam, inching closer towards both the boys. “is y/n a…what the lgbt community would call, a transgender?” he whispered loudly. sam’s face shown pure confusion whereas dean couldn’t help but burst out into laugher.

“what? what’s so funny?” cas asked confused as to what dean found so amusing, his frown making his eyebrows almost touch.

“cas where did you even get that idea from?” sam questioned, trying to get to the bottom of this ridiculous idea.

“well…” cas cleared his throat before he began explaining. “i went to wash my hands in the bathroom since my hands were covered in basilisk blood that we need for the spell, also did you know that in harry po-“

“yes chamber of secrets had a basilisk, to the point cas” dean interrupted, trying to get cas back on the track.

“right, so i walk into the bathroom and on the counter beside the sink… was a.. prosthetic male part” cas finally explained, his whole angel self confused. on the other hand sam and dean look at each other, checking if they heard correctly.

“it wasn’t real, i checked” castiel added as if to protect you from looking like a psycho that owns a cut off dick or something.

dean raised a brow at him, “a prosthetic male part?” cas looked into dean’s eyes with slight panic and uncertainty. despite him being on earth for centuries, socialising with human beings and all that, cas clearly still had a lot of innocence to him after all this time.

dean cleared his throat, trying not to smirk. “so on the bathroom counter there is a-“

“a prosthetic penis, yes” castiel confirmed, sam tried to hide the grin that grew on his face. both the boys looking at each other like kids that just heard the ultimate fart joke.

“is it big?” dean’s tone amused. sam nudged his side. “what? m’just curious” dean shrugged with a full blown smirk. cas squinted his eyes suspiciously but still answered, “it was way over the average size…statistically speaking”

sam spat out his coffee that he tried taking a sip off. dean just nodded with a cheeky grin, now he’s got a thing to tease you about. “oh this is perfect” he murmured to himself, already coming up with an evil plan as he rubbed his hands together.

“so.. is she transgender?” castiel asked with a head tilt like a questioning dog. as sam stopped coughing he cleared his throat and tried to explain to him the situation. “no cas, um..” sam was surprisingly shy about having to explain to castiel that it’s simply your dildo that he saw.

“y/n is a woman and what you saw was her sex toy” dean announced with no hesitation unlike sam, he looked over at sam and cas from the kitchen island as he was plating the cooked food on the ceramic plates. “see, wasn’t that hard to explain now, was it?”

sam gave dean the ‘have a little decency’ glare. “what? it had to be explained to our naive little angel over here” dean shrugged, unfazed. making sam sigh, although he did find the situation pretty amusing.

“ah yes, sex toys. i’ve heard of them before, it’s for pleasuring oneself or your partner” cas nodded, the confusion disappearing and being replaced with a calm smile. dean couldn’t help but snicker.

sam held the bridge of his nose, trying to hold in a chuckle himself. “god, dean you’re such a kid”

“oh come on you find it funny too” dean pointed at sam. then suddenly you entered the kitchen.

“morning guys” you spoke cheerfully, after a little solo session you slept like a baby, so you felt super refreshed. you walked to the fridge to take out milk for your coffee. there was dead silence for a long second, tension could be felt in the kitchen.

“someone’s in a good mood” dean spoke but only sam knew the meaning behind the words. you looked at dean, noticing he was smirking and sam was avoiding your eye contact. you couldn’t help but looked confused at them three.

“cas thinks you might have left something of yours in the bathroom, from last night” dean just couldn’t help himself, teasing you just came too easy. his arms crossed against his chest as he stood facing you with the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.

you look from dean to castiel, the wheels in your brain slowly starting to turn as you started to remember that you don’t recall taking your dildo back into the room with you after washing it. your eyes widen slightly, your cheeks turning pink and your heart started beating twice as fast.

dean noticed the subtle shift in your demeanour, the inner panic overflowing your body. but he didn’t stop there, oh no he had more to say, “did you have a nice workout with your seven inches?” he smirked.

“it’s eight inches actually” you clapped back, tilting your head sassily as you tried to regain your dignity. “but hey i get it, it’s hard to recognise anything bigger than 4 inches, right dean?” you teased him back, sam couldn’t hold in his laughter as you implied dean having a small one. cas only squinted his eyes, trying to understand the conversation between you two.

“ouch, someone got burned” sam chuckled, you brushed your hair sassily at his words.

“now if you guys don’t mind, imma go hide the.. yeah, and go hang myself in the war room” you jokingly said before casually walking out the kitchen.

you may have shut dean up but it was only temporary, you knew this wasn’t the end of his teasing.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @littlelamy @littlejoels @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bruisedfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @heartrendercastiel @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @krabog @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @tendertulip @honeyyxxbee @rerejunebug @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

𑁥౿ check out my masterlist for other works!

♡ see this post to be added to the taglist!

© pieandflannel – do not plagiarise or repost any of my work!

© reserved for photo/gif owners!

© diver by @cafekitsune <3

[lexosaurus]

dp confessional: i actually got into dp because of fucking dsmp. and from what u knew about the uhhh thing about group of guys playing minecraft YES thats what it was but there was also roleplaying and acting involed so people were fucking around with boundaries and what was 'canon character in roleplay vs. real life person'. also like most of the guys were sexpests or absuers or just general scum (tommyinnit is the one that youd THINK would be scummy but he came out of it doin standup and writing books and making songs so hes actually pretty chill)

ANYWAYS BACK TO DP CONFESSIONAL THAT WAS OFF-TRACK. uhhh i got into dp because of dsmp. not kidding

watching dsmp got me into wilbur soots shit (now know hes an asshole dont worry bout it) and he joined origins smp which was basically dsmp without the d and also people got powers. wilbur ended up picking the phantom powers and was joking about how he was like 'that one guy that says going ghost or whatever' and eventually said 'IM DANNY PHANTOM' and i had no fucking idea what he was talkin bout so i went and found out its a show, watched all three seasons in like two days, and became soooo fucking obssesed about it and now just a phan :)))

tdlr: dsmp to dp pipeline is real and really fucking funny

Okay, you win. You've won on the "wildest exposure to danny phantom" contest

i legitimately have nothing else to add because this whole post is such an experience in its purest form

[osterby]

I've taken polls and surveys like this (a few political, more re consumerism) and for the most part they are *very* poorly designed.

Like, I remember one where it showed an image of a grocery shelf with a bunch of different brands of coffee, and asked me to click the ones I would buy in real life. I clicked all the brands I would, theoretically, choose from, and then later in the survey it became clear that they actually wanted me to pretend I was shopping for coffee and pick what I would buy in that single trip if those were the options available. And there was no way to go back and change my answer.

So their data told them that a shopper like me would buy like twelve pounds of coffee in one go.

I've seen a LOT that had technical difficulties, like where a map like this would simply not display at all and you can click randomly and just move on to the questions that aren't borked. Do they discard borked questions? Do they even know it's borked?

One very common problem is "choose all that apply" but they've used radio buttons and you can only choose one, another is a limited list with no "other/none/vanilla extract" option and you have to select something to un-grey the "next" button.

This type of survey is also where a lot of those very funny or insulting gender category screenshots come from, because the survey designers literally do not know the population they are polling.

The better designed surveys have attention checks, things like:

Which of these things have you done this week? Helped my child with homework Travelled to the moon Bought groceries Had tea with Einstein

or Please ignore the question beneath and click "yellow". No matter your actual favourite color, please select yellow so we know you're paying attention. What is your favourite colour? Blue Red Yellow

Discard answers that screw up those questions, and you'll weed out a lot of the random clickers, jokesters, and participants who are really struggling to understand the questions. But a lot don't bother with these types of questions at all.

For a quiz like this, using locations on a map that the vast majority of Americans totally will know will be a good way to filter. "Of Americans who can accurately click on Texas, this percent can also click on Iran" is more meaningful than "of Americans we put this poll in front of, this percent accurately clicked on Iran". You could also compare that data to other studies (if they're available) to estimate how many who don't click on Texas genuinely have very little geographical knowledge vs how many are trolling, joking, or can't see the map.

Another way to get your participants to focus up would be to ask them to labels a number of countries, including ones near Iran. The quiz will be longer and more difficult, but an exercise like that will get people who have the gist of things but not a map that lives in their head to actually think about what they know and go "ok, so I know that one's Saudia Arabia and I know Afghanistan is further East, soooo, yeah, this one's gotta be Iran" instead of just clicking on the Middle East and being like "eh, it's somewhere around there" and moving on.

So, can most Americans accurately point to Iran on a world map? Probably not. Do any Americans genuinely believe that Iran is in the middle of the Atlantic or think it's a boot shaped peninsula? Also probably not.

I'm not going to question why anyone thought iran was in moscow but what's with the random dots in the middle of the ocean

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑 ! ❞

　despite having an official girlfriend, known to the whole world, he doesn’t catch a break from his beloved fans. or quick reminder that he married his fan number one + social’s !

ft. itoshi sae , iglesias bunny , kaiser michael.

content. 1.8k wc, slightly suggestive, dirty thoughts, freaky / off-handed comments, crack, unserious, spoiler - free, up to 0.5k words each drabble, isagi makes insensitive jokes, inspired by freaky tiktok comments.

author’s note. I had so much fun writing this because this is lowkey how I act whenever I see them but not that freaky. be so for real, that’s how you would act when they were your boyfriend hehe. part two?

ITOSHI SAE.

　SPEAKING frankly, it's not like you are weird or anything. Not as weird as some of his fans — but you're definitely weird. Again, in a positive way though. You're weird in a positive way.

Can someone even consider this as a positive?

Your own boyfriend is cringed out by you sometimes, giving you weird stares as if you're his fangirl. Only that you are his fangirl and he knows it. He knows you'd watch every match of his until your dying breath.

"Hehe..." you sighed out dreamily, leaning against your palm.

Watchful eyes following Sae's every movement while he was trying to eat in peace. You two were at home, you cooked something delicious and now you kept him company while he was eating.

"Something wrong?" he wiped his mouth with a tissue.

His pretty teal eyes blinking ever so slowly, his long lashes adorning his face and highlighting the colour of his eyes. You could die in peace and you meant every word when you said that.

"Nothing..." you lied smoothly, letting out a giggle.

A giggle that reminds him of his fangirls and also fanboys.

God, you couldn't hell yourself though. He was so fucking hot, face so handsome and body built like the greek statues, his »I don't give a fuck«-personality fits him so well and his nonchalant attitude.

Suddenly you dropped a—

"You're so hot." you stared at his features, lips curling into a smirk.

"Oh. Thanks." he returns back to eating, not minding your comment.

And then — you stood up from your chair, only to move closer so you can sit closer to your boyfriend.

"I'm so lucky." you started off slowly, leaving him wonder for a second. "I see what Shidou sees."

"Shidou?" he deadpanned at the mention of Shidou Ryusei.

"Ugh, stop talking about him." you frowned, waving your hand dismissively.

"Didn't you start with him?" he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh wow..." you gasped, "do that again."

"Do what?" he glanced at you again from the corner of his eyes.

"THAT!" you couldn't contain your giggles anymore as you pushed his plate away from him, latching yourself onto him. "UGH YOU'RE SO FINE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

"Ah..." he trailed off, patting your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I wanna smash my lips against yours." you whispered, voice muffled because of his clothes. "And this definitely isn't the only thing I'm smashing today."

"[name]..." he deadpanned again, your fan behaviour insufferable yet cute in its own way.

"Yes, my darling husband? My sexy, handsome, beautiful and attractive Sae?" you giggled dreamily against his shirt, feeling his arms around your figure.

"Let me finish my food." he paused, "please?"

"Of course!" you distanced yourself again before taking the spoon into your hand. "Say ahh."

Spoiler alert: he didn't open his mouth.

"Mmh?" you hummed in confusion, then blew lightly against the hot meal, "the plane is coming! Say ahh!"

"Ahh..." he parted his lips reluctantly.

"Good boy!" you teased him.

"Never ever say that again."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 112.8k. 💬 3.221 ⌲ 9.2k.

itoshisaesonlygf gender is NOT the same as sex. gender is what you identify as, while sex is what i'll be having with @official.itoshisae tonight. stay informed.

official.itoshisae respectfully back off.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf guys he’s only shy !!

　⤷ ryuassei.only I knew you wouldn’t cheat

　　　me pookie wookie dookie cutie patootie ❤️

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf keys and livestream it

ryuassei.only imagine faking a relationship 🤣

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf blocked banned reported

　⤷ rinnie_poo gtfo weirdo

　⤷ userrando1112 what rin and [name] said !!

ryuassei.only IM FUCKING JEALOUS LOCK UR DOORS YOU WITCH IM BURNING DOWN YOUR HOUSE

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf what a weirdo

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf get em banned

　　⤷ userrando3424 already did o7

rinnie_poo hoping that guy is stepping on lego stones, his socks get wet, spoon falling into the bowl and stubs his toe against something.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf I love you rin

　　⤷ rinnie_poo call me if he’s being an asshole.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi what a lovely greeting lol

　　⤷ rinnie_poo shut the fuck up

　　⤷ ryuassei.only “SYBAU 💔🥀” ahh

　　⤷ rinnie_poo you’re getting crushed anyway

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf SHOW THEM !!!!

　　⤷ ryuassei.only ho is u a traitor? 🥀🥀

itoshisaesonlygf omfg he looks so good I wanna give him the sloppiest, wettest, best kiss ever

　⤷ itoshisae.official I’m right here.

userrando0010 we know it’s you shidou 💔

　⤷ ryuassei.only ugh fine I got caught

　　⤷ userrando0010 HE REPLIED WHAT.

　　⤷ userrando1392 FUCK ME PLZ

IGLESIAS BUNNY.

　YOUR gaze stayed glued to your phone as you sat on the couch, finger scrolling through the newest edits of your boyfriend. A grin crossing your lips as you watched the edit.

"Tsk..." you let out a gleeful giggle, seeing your boyfriend on the edit.

Wasn't he the finest man ever walking on earth?

"His girlfriend is so lucky..." you muttered, commenting under the post and then replied, "thank you..!"

Content with liking the edit, saving the post and favouriting it, you scrolled to the next edit — just to comment something else. "Not going to lie, he ain't safe from me..." you mumbled.

"Who isn't safe from you?"

"AHH!" you flinched in shock, immediately locking your phone as a reflex while your heart pounded quickly against your chest. "Ohmyfuckinggod Bunny!"

"That's me." he looked down at you, his hands placed against the edge of the couch while looming over you from behind.

"Hi." you smiled at him innocently, head lifting up to face him.

Yet your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his toned body. "Oh wow." you couldn't help but let out, taking in the sight behind you even if it meant that you'd snap your head any moment.

"Careful before you hurt yourself." and with that, he placed his hand under your head to push it lightly — so you'd face ahead again.

"Whatever you want." you replied and turned fully now to admire him even more.

Thinking back to that one comment, your mind immediately was filled with silly thoughts. "Oh... But I seriously think I can handle all that." you started giggling as you averted your eyes, biting your index finger.

"Whatever you're saying." your boyfriend smiled at you, making himself place on the edge of his couch. "What were you watching?"

"Edits that should get banned because the stuff is too much to handle, apparently." you answered immediately, not hesitating to face again. "Ugh..."

"Mmh?" he hummed, tilting his head slightly to the side.

One of the most attractive things he could do to be honest. With that lethal facecard? And that body?

"I'm so so so lucky." you whispered under your breath, cheeks heating up at the sight.

"Are you? Or am I?" he chuckled at your comment, batting his lashes.

"...I have nothing appropriate to say." your face was expressionless yet your inner voice screamed it all.

He erupted into a laughter his time, letting you watch how his adam apple moved along in an attractive way. You couldn't describe it properly in words — but he was all you needed in life.

"Ugh kiss me already." you throw yourself at him, clothed body bumping against his naked upper body.

"Whatever you want, love." his hand found itself behind to the back of your head again, pulling you into a quick kiss — it left you stunned honestly.

As soon as he distanced himself, you blinked slowly while your brain tried to processed what just happened.

"You..."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, your reaction too amusing for him.

"You deserve your ass ate for this."

"Please no."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 192.5k. 💬 6.019 ⌲ 16.6k.

[name]thehunter “dinner’s ready, @bunnythebunny!” I say as I sat on the table ❤️❤️

userrando2737 GUYS SHE WATCHED MY EDIT, SHE WATCHED MY EDIT AND COMMENTED!!\*£|~${! PLZ NOTICE ME PLEASEEEEEEEEE

　⤷ [name]thehunter please continue the great work love 🫶

　　⤷ userrando2737 SHE REPLIED SHE REPLIED I’M DYING BYEEEE

　⤷ userrando4444 this is SENDING me 🙏

userrando0174 oh who is u?

　⤷ [name]thehunter im ya grandma

　　⤷ userrando1773 LMFAOO WHAT’S THIS

bunnythebunny oh thank you for dinner, it was great ☺️ is there more?

　⤷ [name]thehunter you know where I am.

　　⤷ userrando2938 OH WOW.

　⤷ userrando4992 can I eat u?

　　⤷ userrando9913 gtfo u gooner, he’s mine

userrando7369 ready… set… GOON ❕❕

　⤷ userrando2884 touch grass lil buddy 🙏

　　⤷ userrando7369 how abt I touch u? 😈

　　⤷ userrando2884 not here 😳

　⤷ userrando8926 the 69 says it all

official.itoshisae whatever is cursing my eyes.

　⤷ bunnythebunny oh nice to see you! ☺️☺️

　　⤷ official.itoshisae lukewarm eyesore

　⤷ [name]thehunter dw I love you kiss 💋

　　⤷ bunnythebunny does this count as cheating?

　　⤷ official.itoshisae yes now break up.

KAISER MICHAEL.

　HE was asleep. In a deep slumber probably while his front was fully turned to you, letting your eyes wander all over his glorious face — almost shining in your eyes.

Maybe even blinding you with his beauty?

Your lips curled into a grin, taking in his facial features. Of course he was pretty. It's your boyfriend, after all. The bastard of every soccer match whenever you watch him play.

And here he is, sleeping soundly — not knowing the danger's of the world aka you. But what can you do? The dragon (you) has to protect the princess (michael) from the village (fans).

But he himself was in danger. If you ever would take a look at him, you'd fall for his charms — just like you did. "Hehe..." you giggled in delight, pulling the blanket closer to you.

Was inner you fangirling? No, no. You are just happen to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his sleeping beauty.

"You're so fine. Looking at you makes me feel like a victorian man, seeing a woman's ankle for the first time." you whispered, your hand inches away to caress his cheek.

And suddenly — he opened his eyes while raising a brow, catching your wrist at the right time

"What nonsense..." he muttered under his breath, voice sounding fully awake.

"You were awake the whole time!?" you gasped in shock before he pulled you closer. "Ack!—"

"Did you seriously just say something about victorian man seeing a woman's ankle?" he questioned, mischief not found in his voice — instead it was curiosity.

"Yeah, I did." you answered before realising, "ah. You don't understand."

"So what if?" he rolled his eyes, already annoyed by your teasing grin.

You swiftly freed yourself and found yourself on top of him. Well only your upper half was above him while your knees were still propped beside his hip.

"Basically it was scandalous for a woman to show off her ankles in the victorian era. High-class women were limited to show off most body parts and showing ankles were challenging the norms. I guess, victorian men liked that." you taught him.

"Ah..." he nodded and his one arm sliding around your lower back.

"Pfft— You're so cute." you giggled.

"Didn't you saw I looked fine? Like a... fine shyt?"

You bursted into laughter as he said that.

"You're superrrr cute!" you laughed.

"Oh?" he mused under his breath, raising his hand to tap against your quivering arms. "But you are the cute one."

"No." you lowered yourself, planting several kisses on his cheek. "You're so fine, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Are we calling each other cringe pet names now?" he raised a brow, finding joy in your affection. "Perle? Or should I say, Bubu Bärchen?"

"Eugh, never say that again!" you shook your head frantically, a shiver running down your spine.

"Mausebär."

"Schnuckiputz."

"Schnecke."

"Okay you won, stop those outrageous pet names."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 110.2k. 💬 4.217 ⌲ 12.3k.

callmeempress I feel pregnant whenever I see @michahhel.kaiser

nessfetchthis what a wonderful sight to wake up to!

　⤷ callmeempress certainly ❤️

　⤷ userrando4674 fetch this bone 🦴 !!

　　⤷ callmeempress that’s it you’re getting blocked bye me AND michael

　　⤷ userrando4674 WHAT NO IM SORRY PLZ I WILL FETCH IT MYSELF

hide.its.slursagi get HIM pregnant

　⤷ callmeempress actually, you’re so right… might do that as well thanks 🌹❤️🔋

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser [name] syfm

　　⤷ callmeempress make me 💞💞💞

　　⤷ userrando1883 can I join???

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser no gtfo.

　　⤷ userrando1883 YES GAWDDDD HE REPLIED UGH WHATEVER YOU SAY EMPEROR

michahhel.kaiser next time post smth better than this. this absolutely looks heinous.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi the earth was flat until ur dad got buried.

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser @callmeempress why didn’t u block him yet?

　　⤷ callmeempress this was a good one tho

　⤷ nessfetchthis oh you never look heinous!!

　　⤷ callmeempress alexis, love, cutie, sweetheart sometimes I’d love to sugarcoat it but you would probably eat that too if it’s for michael… this picture does look heinous

　　⤷ userrando9999 WHAT’S WITH THOSE CREATIVE INSULTS???

　　⤷ userrando7819 CLOCKED HER OWN SON????

userrando2231 I also wanna wake up to this sight hellooooo?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi blind motherfckers

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser thy actions are the most strange. thou show few signs of intact sanity.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi loving parents ❤️

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser count your days.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi count your scars.

　⤷ userrando6699 NOT ISAGI CLOCKING THEM ALL IN THE COMMENTS INCLUDING YOU KING?

userrando1083 seeing this made me accidentally hit my chin KAISER YOU LOOK SO HAWD PLZ ONE CHANCE ❕❕

　⤷ hide.its.isagi which chin?

　　⤷ callmeempress I’m considering to block you seriously…

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi I was just joking! 😅

　　⤷ userrando1049 he said as he grinned like evil larry.

　　⤷ userrando9966 he said as he knew that he hurt the world’s feeling 🥀🥀

© kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[excusemyobsessions]

everyday I think abt fully relaxing into zayne or sylus’ arms and feeling safe 😭

It’s actually so criminal that they’re not real with me

Oh honey.

I feel you.

I keep saying I need Zayne like the air that I breathe and when I tell you I'm not even joking 😅

That man would make me feel so safe. He's so gentle and patient, he doesn't push, he's just there. He goes at your pace because he himself needs things to go slow, needs you to ease into him as much as you need him to ease into you.

He'd be the absolute best at dealing with your overwhelmed, overstimulated self. There's just this calm, peaceful aura to him. His voice is so soothing and he's so tender.

Hugging that man would be just melting into him and knowing he'd catch you and hold you and keep you safe no matter what. Just feeling his body mold into yours.

I headcanon that he's touch starved. And as someone who also is, I think I'd become addicted to being in his arms because he'd feel so safe. And he'd feel the exact same way.

When I tell you I need all of him. His mind, his voice, his hands, his body. Those boba eyes of his, in shades of the sun shining through the canopy of the trees.

Uuuugh.

And Sylus.

My god, Sylus.

He'd be your support system, for sure.

He's huge, first of all. So you'd literally disappear in his arms and honestly, is there any other place which is as safe for you to hide in?

Yes, he was pushy when we first met him but can you blame him? He was desperate.

He's just a huge loverboy. Biggest, silliest, sweetest fool in love.

And his big hands are just so tender.

You can tell him anything. From the most irrelevant details to the big secrets.

He accepts you whole, cherishes all of you.

This man holds you like he's holding the whole world in his hands, for damn sure.

He's so much more than his endless black cards. He's so intelligent, so willing to learn and adapt.

I adore his witty self, the tender bite in his words.

Ugh, give me those long fingers threading through my hair while he makes me giggle with his sarcasm.

I clearly have a type and it's the super intelligent, witty, sarcastic ones 😂

This was such a word vomit omg

So sorry 😅😂🙈

[nuelles]

Ring Light, Ring Finger

A month after secretly eloping with Spencer Agnew, you're back to 'normal' life at Smosh - only for you to forget to take off your rings, and fans instantly zoom in. Let the teasing from your fellow Smosh fam, the edits from fans, and overall chaos begin.

Spencer Agnew x F!Reader ft. Smosh Cast

tried to keep it gender neutral, but the bonus scene has a photo with a female presenting human.

warnings: fluff, romance, crack, secret relationship, smosh chaos, eloping, not proofread

wc: according to Google Docs 3k

author's note: nothing to do with my other series, this is a stand-alone :) what game are they playing no clue! Also, creds to @cafekitsune for the star divider/banner

It started with a ring.

Two, technically.

Yours–sleek, minimal, and gleaming beneath the studio lights.

And his plain silver, always partially hidden by his hoodie sleeve.

The studio was buzzing with familiar energy, soft banter, and dice clattering across the table, as someone had already accused Angela of cheating, probably with good reason. Being back with the Smosh Games crew felt like slipping into your favorite hoodie: comfortable, cozy, and just chaotic enough to keep you on your toes.

Your first filming day back, and they'd thrown you right into Board AF. Of course. No warmup. No easing in. Just instant conflict, weird rules, and loud accusations wrapped in plastic game boxes.

It felt good.

Except for the very real, very shiny ring on your left hand.

You had meant to take it off that morning. Swore up and down you wouldn't forget. You and Spencer had even gone shopping for a nice ring box where the ring would live when you two went to work. Every morning, you told yourself, "Left hand, dummy," as you would walk past your mirror, the shiny sparkle catching your eye.

But then Spencer, distracted you wandering into the shared bathroom, hair a mess, asking if you slept well and wanted to grab breakfast before heading to the studio together.

And you forgot just like that.

So now, there it was, the physical embodiment of a very recent Vegas wedding. One month ago to the day. Not even thirty full days since you said "I do" in front of an LED sign that read 'Til Death' and promised to love each other forever in front of a guy named Dennis, who was dressed as Elvis, and who also charged by the hour.

And you were wearing the proof of it.

On camera.

In 4k.

Next to the very man you married, who was currently trying to hide his matching ring beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, like that was going to fool the internet.

"Okay," Damien said, dramatically flicking the dice into the center of the board, "I'm just gonna say it, if Spencer wins again, I'm quitting the channel."

"You said that last time," Spencer chuckled, leaning back lazily in his seat. "You were back the next day."

"Don't challenge me, I've got dignity!"

Angela leaned in, "He really doesn't."

You smiled, trying not to look suspicious. Your hand itched to hide the ring, but moving it would draw more attention. Next to you, Angela was squinting at the rules like they were written in ancient Greek. "Okay, wait, so if I land here, I lose a coin unless I shout the name of a vegetable in under two seconds?"

Alex Tran, joked from offscreen, "Welcome to Board AF!"

You and Spencer shared a subtle look. Just a flicker of amused eyes, like a secret passed under the table.

It had only been a month, and you still felt like you were learning how to wear the title of spouse. It wasn't weird, but it was tender. A new kind of closeness. A little thrilling. A little terrifying.

And very, very private.

"Y/N" Angela asked, nudging you with her elbow, "you with us or are you calculating your next betrayal?"

"Huh?" You were startled back into reality, "Oh. Sorry. Betrayal, obviously."

"Hell yeah," Damien nodded. "Marriage material, honestly."

Spencer coughed, badly hiding a laugh.

Your face flushed. He looked away.

No one noticed. But the camera was still rolling.

And when you reached across the table to grab a game piece, your hand, your left hand landed perfectly in frame. The studio lights caught the ring just right, making it sparkle like a flare gun into the sky.

You didn't notice the slip.

Neither did the crew.

But the fans would.

The video had barely been up for twelve hours.

At first, it seemed like a normal upload day. Comments rolled in as usual, people yelling about dice rolls, calling Angela a menace, asking why Damien was so competitive over board games that made no sense.

Until one comment changed everything.

@smosh_xoxo: "Wait....is that a ring on Y/N's finger??? 👀💍"

It had five likes at first. Then twenty. Then two thousand.

And finally came the edits.

🎥 TikTok by @detectivestans4life Caption: “They thought we wouldn’t notice 😏” Audio: The “They don’t know” meme song Footage: A slowed-down clip of you reaching for the game piece. Zoomed. Cropped. Circled in red. Frame freeze. Cut to: Spencer, arms crossed, hoodie sleeve slipping just enough to expose his ring.

The comment section? A minefield of spiraling.

@spencersbajaqueen: “STOP. PAUSE. ENHANCE. HE’S WEARING ONE TOO. THIS ISN’T A DRILL.” @y/nstansince2019: “We’ve officially entered the soft launch apocalypse.” @smoshwitnessprotection: “So what I’m hearing is… they got MARRIED and thought we wouldn’t notice?? Oh, honey.”

Someone had found screengrabs of previous videos where Spencer was looking at you with loving eyes, how he laughed just a little harder when your turn on TNTL was up, and last but not least, the matching rings.

Someone else zoomed into your tagged photos and noticed a matching band on your left hand at a coffee shop in Silver Lake. One week post-wedding.

A third person posted a TikTok with side-by-side screenshots of every shared glance, subtle smile, and awkward shoulder brush between you and Spencer from past Smosh videos.

Other fans jumped in with unsettling speed and spreadsheet-level efficiency:

Timeline screenshots of Spencer and you both “going offline” a month ago for three days.

An old tweet of yours: “brb, making a questionable but romantic decision 👀”

A photo of a Vegas sign from Spencer’s private Instagram story (how they got it, you were clueless) that was posted exactly four weeks ago.

A blurry mirror selfie where a silver band could maybe, possibly, definitely be seen on your finger.

@gayforthechaos: “So let me get this straight… they ELOPED A MONTH AGO and have been lying to our faces ever since???”

@fbiwifeysquad: “They didn’t soft launch. They whispered it under their breath and hoped we’d never hear it.”

@spencersbajaqueen: “The ‘just married’ glow is literally in their faces. Look at how Y/N is smiling. LOOK AT HOW SPENCER LOOKS AT THEM. I'M IN SHAMBLES.”

The term #smoshwedding began trending by midnight. Followed by the theories of said wedding.

Had you eloped in Vegas? Was Courtney the maid of honor and just playing dumb? Did Shayne officiate while dressed as The Chosen?

And still, you and Spencer stayed silent.

No posts. No clarifications. No “haha guys calm down.”

Just... quiet.

Which only made it worse.

@softmarriedenergy: “THE WEDDING WAS A MONTH AGO?? ARE THEY STILL IN THE HONEYMOON PHASE RIGHT NOW??”

@smoshdramaqueen: “I’m not okay. I feel like I just found out my best friend got married and didn’t invite me even though I live in their phone.”

Some fans cried. Some made fan edits. Some were dangerously close to organizing a digital reception with a shared Spotify playlist titled “Songs They Definitely Slow Danced To in Vegas”.

The internet was losing its collective mind.

And back at the Smosh Studio?

None of the team had noticed. Not yet.

But the group chat was starting to buzz.

And Courtney Miller was about to open their TikTok For You Page.

Which meant the countdown to total chaos... had officially begun.

It started, as most Smosh-related meltdowns did, in the studio break room.

Courtney was sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating cold leftover pad thai straight from the container. Shayne sat across from them with a LaCroix in one hand and his phone in the other, doom-scrolling with the focus of a man trying to avoid responsibility.

“Did we ever figure out if Damien cheated last video?” Courtney asked, casually twirling noodles with their fork.

“Statistically speaking, yes,” Shayne said, without looking up.

He paused mid-scroll. Blinked.

Then sat up straighter.

“Wait… what the hell is going on in the comments?”

Courtney’s head tilted like a curious golden retriever. “On what?”

“Board AF. People are losing it. Half the comments aren’t even about the game. They’re like... zooming in on hands or something?”

Courtney opened YouTube.

Found the video.

Scrolled.

Froze.

“Is [Y/N] wearing a ring???”“Wait. Spencer has one too. Y’ALL.” “SOFT LAUNCH MARRIAGE DETECTED.”

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Then lunged.

Two taps and she was on TikTok. Their For You Page? A crime scene.

🎥 @chaoswithintent: “Evidence that Y/N and Spencer got married a month ago and thought we wouldn’t notice.”

The video played—slowed-down footage of [Y/N]’s hand on the game table. Zoomed in. Circled. Sparkling. Cut to Spencer adjusting his hoodie, the ring on his finger peeking out for exactly 0.4 seconds.

Courtney shrieked like she’d just seen Bigfoot propose to Mothman.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

“What?” Shayne asked, eyes wide.

“THEY’RE MARRIED!”

Shayne nearly dropped his LaCroix. “WHO’S MARRIED?!”

“Y/N AND SPENCER!”

“WHAT??”

Courtney thrust their phone in his face. “LOOK. ZOOM. FREAK OUT WITH ME.”

He stared at the screen. Watched the edit. Looked like he was trying to compute calculus while on fire.

“No. No. They wouldn’t-” “They DID.” “They’ve only been back for ONE VIDEO.” “AND THEY GOT CAUGHT IN IT.” “THE WEDDING WAS A MONTH AGO???”

A silence fell between them.

Then

“I feel betrayed,” Shayne whispered dramatically. “I thought we were friends.”

Courtney placed a hand over their heart. “I swear to god, if Elvis officiated and we weren’t invited...”

They stared at each other.

Then, at the same time:

“GROUP CHAT. NOW.”

📲 Group Chat: “Smosh Chaos Line 🔥”

Court: EXPLAIN YOURSELVES RIGHT NOW 👀💍👀💍👀💍👀💍👀💍

Shayne: We saw the ring. We saw HIS ring. Y’ALL GOT MARRIED???

Damien: wait WAIT are we yelling?

Amanda: I leave the chat alone for two hours and come back to a full wedding scandal??

Alex T.: I TOLD you they were acting weird. I SAID it.

You and Spencer didn’t even make it past the front door.

One second, you were walking into the Smosh studio like everything was normal—the two of you sipping iced coffee like you hadn’t just become the Internet’s newest married couple overnight.

The next?

Courtney and Shayne were standing in the entryway with the kind of energy usually reserved for dramatic courtroom reveals and surprise baby announcements on soap operas.

Courtney was holding her phone like evidence.

Shayne had a whiteboard that said “EXPLAIN YOURSELVES” in neon pink Expo marker.

“Oh no,” Spencer muttered under his breath.

“Oh YES,” Courtney snapped, marching toward you. “You thought you could soft launch an entire marriage and we wouldn’t notice?!”

“Soft?” Shayne repeated, scandalized. “This wasn’t a soft launch. This was a whispered launch. This was a secret side quest with no map!”

Spencer raised a brow. “Aren’t you the same person who hard-launched your relationship on Instagram.”

“That’s not the point!” Courtney barked. “The point is YOU GOT MARRIED.”

You blinked. “Okay, technically…we got married a month ago.”

“A month,” Shayne repeated, as if that was somehow worse.

“That’s thirty days of keeping the secret,” Courtney added.

“Thirty days of lies. Betrayal. DECEPTION.”

You raised your hands defensively. “We weren’t trying to deceive anyone. We just…didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Then why did you do it in LAS VEGAS?”

“Because it was cheap,” Spencer said.

“AND ROMANTIC,” you added quickly.

Damien wandered in holding a bag of chips. “So wait. This is real? I thought this was just another weird fan theory.”

Shayne whipped around. “LOOK AT THEIR FACES.”

Courtney waved their phone again. “LOOK AT THE RINGS. LOOK AT THE GLINT.”

Spencer sighed and lifted his left hand.

The ring gleamed under the overhead light.

Courtney made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a victorious war cry.

Alex appeared from the hallway with a clipboard. “So are we filming the Q&A today or tomorrow? Because I’ve already booked the couch, prepped the mics, and made a slideshow titled ‘Love and Lies: A Smosh Games Retrospective’.”

You groaned.

Shayne was still spiraling. “I just… I made so many jokes about you two being married over the years. I didn’t realize I was prophesying.”

Courtney smacked his arm. “We ALL made those jokes. THEY WERE DROPPING HINTS.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Were we?”

You elbowed him. “You literally tweeted ‘marriage is cool if it’s with someone who makes you laugh during dentist appointments.’ Two weeks ago.”

Damien squinted. “Wait. Is that about the time y’all disappeared from the group chat for three days and said you were ‘redecorating a closet’?”

Courtney gasped. “THE CLOSET WAS A METAPHOR?!”

Spencer sighed. “We went to Vegas. We got married. We had tacos. Elvis said we looked like trouble. It was great.”

The room went still.

Courtney blinked. “...You had tacos at your wedding?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Carne asada. And Baja Blast.”

Shayne clutched his chest. “You didn’t even invite me to the Baja Blast wedding?”

Damien snorted. “Alright. This calls for full content chaos. Mic’d up. Fan questions. No script. And we need a post-ceremony reenactment. Shayne’s officiating.”

Matt was already scribbling notes. “We’ll drop it next Friday. ‘Smosh Games Reacts to a Secret Marriage.’ It’ll trend. I want glitter. Maybe a cheap veil.”

Spencer looked at you, then looked around at your friends,these completely unhinged, overreacting, wonderful, weirdos, and sighed with a tiny smile.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m not wearing a tux t-shirt again.”

The camera blinked red. The room buzzed. You could practically taste the drama in the air.

Courtney sat in the center like a talk show host who’d been personally wronged. Shayne flanked her, whiteboard in hand. Damien had cue cards. Amanda and Angela had popcorn. Alex was in the back with a clipboard and a fire extinguisher for "just in case."

You and Spencer?

Sitting on the infamous white couch, holding hands like two kids about to be grilled by divorced parents who teamed up for once.

“Welcome back to the channel, where today we’re confronting two of our coworkers who LIED to us for an ENTIRE MONTH.” Courtney's cheerful but menacing voice started the video.

“That’s right. A whole marriage. Hidden. In PLAIN SIGHT.” Pouting beside his wife was Shayne, fake crying with a box of tissues next to him.

"Let’s begin the trauma bonding," Damien slapped the cards against his lap as his mischievous smile grew.

[ROUND 1 – FAN QUESTIONS]

“@chaoscakes says: ‘Who proposed, and was food involved?’” Courtney read off the first cue card.

“Spencer did. Outside a Taco Bell. At like, 3AM.” You smiled sweetly, remembering it fondly.

“In my defense, it was romantic. And the moon was out.”

Shayne scoffed, “What did you say? ‘Marry me before the nachos get cold?’”

Deadpan Spencer explained “Actually: ‘If I’m gonna do this dumb life thing, I wanna do it with you.’”

Cue the collective 'aww' from the cast and crew behind the camera who had gathered to watch.

Damien read off the next question “Next: ‘Did you elope in Vegas or did you black out and wake up married?’”

"Both." Responding at the same time, a chuckle rippled through the crowd again.

“Look, there was an Elvis impersonator, a vending machine that dispensed White Claw, and we just went with the vibes.” Spencer explained.

Finally, Shayne's turn came, he read the card to himself first and nodded along like he agreed with the question “@bajablastbabes asks: ‘Why didn’t you tell us?!’”

“We wanted something just ours. Quiet. Simple.” You softly explained wanting to let everyone, fans and friends alike, know that it wasn't personal, just a decision to stay in your married bubble for a little longer before having to be swept up in the chaos.

“Also, we knew you’d react like… this.” Spencer gestured to the three, specifically Courtney and Shayne. Damien really was just there for shits and giggles.

"Valid." Courtney shrugged it off.

[ROUND 2 – SMOSH QUESTIONS]

The cameras turned to the group watching them. Amanda stood up, but not before passing the half-eaten popcorn to Angela. “What was your first fight as a married couple?”

“He ordered pineapple on pizza. In front of me. Shamelessly.” And as if remembering that disparging event, you scooted away from him. Spencer gasped, pointing his finger at yo,u “You left the cap off the toothpaste. Again.”

“Divorce is sounding real mutual right now.” Damien chuckled as he looked at the way you both jokingly had your backs turned away from each other.

Next was Ian, who had congratulated you both before the shoot began, “Did you cry during the ceremony?”

"I cried," You admitted going back to your original sitting position.

“I cried harder,” Spencer admitted on camera. You both smiled softly at each other before grabbing each other's hands. The group once again awed at the display.

“You would.” Shayne agreed with his friend, whom he was no longer feeling betrayed by.

Courtney shook her head before sitting up straighter like she was getting ready for something big. You were worried about what she would ask. Nothing too bad, right?

“Okay, final question—do you take each other all over again in front of us, your ridiculous chosen family?”

You both laughed.

But the laughter soon ceased as Shayne pulled out two blindfolds from behind his back. An evil smile was proudly displayed on his face.

They had changed the set. In like, two minutes.

There were streamers duct-taped to the walls. Someone (probably the art department) set up an arch made from unused lighting stands and plastic ivy. A speaker played the Wii Mii Channel theme softly in the background.

Courtney had changed into a faux priest outfit made of a curtain, sunglasses, and righteous vengeance.

“If Elvis could do it, so can I.” Courtney grinned at the camera. Both of you were still stunned by the display.

“I’m your flower boy.” Shayne giggled from behind the camera, throwing cheetos like rose petals as he made his way down the make-shift aisle.

“They grow up so fast.” Damien was putting the tissue box Shayne was previously using as a prop to good use.

You and Spencer stood under the arch, rings still on, grinning helplessly.

“Do you, Spencer Agnew, take Y/N L/N, to be your lawfully wedded co-chaos gremlin, partner in crime, and best friend who tolerates your caffeine habits?” putting on a more 'serious' and 'officiant' voice.

“I do.” His smile brought the stars to shame, you thought.

“And do you, [Y/N], take Spencer, knowing full well he once drank expired soda and said ‘it builds character’?” She looked at you, knowing very well you couldn't take it back even if you wanted to.

With a sigh and a shake of your head, “Unfortunately, yes. I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by YouTube, a borrowed ring light, and the comments section… I now re-declare you married as hell. You may high-five your husband.”

You and Spencer high-fived. Then kissed anyway.

The team cheered. Confetti poppers went off way too close to your ears. A cake was brought in, shaped like a dice with “You Rolled a Nat 20 on Marriage” written in icing.

The whole cast gathered around the cake, screaming laughing, while Spencer smashes frosting into your face and you try to stab him with a plastic fork. The caption fades in:

“They got married. The internet found out. We made it weird.” #SmoshStyleWedding 💍✨🎲

Bonus Scene:

The day after the video went live, the Smosh YouTube channel was still on fire.

The comments were a mix of screaming, crying, begging to be invited to the real honeymoon, and at least twelve conspiracy theories about what else the cast was hiding.

You woke up in bed, half-buried under a blanket, with your phone buzzing non-stop. Spencer lay beside you, one arm draped lazily across your waist as he scrolled through the chaos.

“I feel like people think the glitter wedding was the real one,” you murmured.

He blinked. “We literally got married by Elvis with a chihuahua in the background. I don’t think anything we do can be taken seriously.”

You snorted. “Should we… I don’t know… post something real? Like a photo?”

Spencer looked at you, head tilted.

Then he grinned.

“Yeah. But I’m doing it my way.”

@spenceragnew One month ago, we said ‘I do’ with churro dust on our hands and soda in our veins. It was the best impulse decision I’ve ever made. Love you, wife. 💍💙 #ActualWedding #NotAFakeSketchThisTime #BajaBlastForLife