#California hunks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneforthemunny · 1 month

Text

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

476 notes · View notes

soul-controller · 9 months

Text

Together Forever

As Ryan Sullivan entered his bathroom to have one last look at himself before heading out to a local beach, the 18-year-old and recent high school graduate couldn’t resist smirking upon seeing his own reflection. Standing there in just a pair of swim shorts, the man’s well-defined physique was on full display. Surely with a bod like this, every chick is gonna want their hands all over me, he thought to himself.

Upon pulling his phone from his shorts to take some photos of his progress, the man found a brand new text message from his ex-girlfriend Becca waiting for him. “Hey, I’m outside your house. Please talk to me, I’ll be quick I promise,” the message said, which immediately caused Ryan to chuckle and roll his eyes at the girl’s desperation.

Just over a week ago, Ryan spent an entire night smoking weed with his best friends and thinking about his future. Given the fact that he was just a few months away from moving to the opposite side of the country to go play soccer at a major university, it seemed as though Ryan was being offered the opportunity to get a completely fresh start to his life. No longer would he be an athlete living in a small-town with nothing exciting occurring and practically no attractive women around him. Once he made the move to California, he would be a total hunk living in a big city that would surely keep life interesting (especially with a sudden influx of aspiring models eager to get with him). As such, he quickly realized that being tied down to some high school relationship was a waste of time and a piss-poor decision for his sex life given the long distance that they would have to adapt to. So in his impaired state, Ryan stumbled through his words before eventually sending off a to-the-point and brutal text that broke up his 5-year-long relationship with Becca without a hint of remorse.

For several days since sending that text, Ryan found his phone constantly blowing up with texts and DMs from the shunned woman who begged to have a civil conversation so she could gain closure and they could terminate the relationship like the adults they were on their way to becoming. Although she continually stated that she thought that they would “be together forever”, she wasn’t furious and remained quite level-headed throughout the various messages she sent. But the hunk refused to ever respond to the girl’s messages, instead taking screenshots of the messages and sending them off to his friends while framing the messages as a display of how desperate and pathetic she was. Of course, Ryan’s friends weren’t respectful of the couple’s privacy in the slightest, so they continued to pass along the messages to others until practically everyone in their graduating class knew about the breakup and Becca’s pleas.

In the fallout of the breakup, it wasn’t shocking to discover that drastically different mindsets were formed for each individual involved. While Becca continued to be ridiculed by the jocks and other popular kids that they knew, Ryan was being put on a pedestal as if he had done something noble by breaking them up. The jocks were obviously quite supportive of the breakup, informing Ryan of how “lame” and “awkward” they always thought Becca was while also offering to help be his wingmen to get him laid as soon as possible. In the most puzzling tidbit of all though, it seemed as though many women were on Ryan’s side as well as they reached out to send their regards towards the breakup while also throwing their hat in the ring to be a potential rebound for the man. Throughout the entire experience though, Ryan felt no shame for his actions and didn’t even have a single lingering thought about how Becca was handling everything.

As Ryan rolled his eyes once again upon re-reading the latest message from Becca, the man quickly typed out “fine, make it quick bc i’m heading to the beach” and headed down to the front door. Upon opening it, Ryan took a moment to stare at the girl. Although Becca was quite attractive in her form-fitting crop top that showed off her taut stomach and sizable breasts, the clear sight of runny mascara due to the girl’s crying immediately killed any remaining attraction he felt for the girl. In Ryan’s eyes, signs of weakness in women was the ultimate boner killer for him, so as he moved to the side and allowed the brunette to make her way into the house, he couldn’t help but physically cringe at her as he heard a slight sniffle emerge from her mouth.

Upon shutting the door and turning to face the girl, Ryan immediately crossed his arms as he observed his ex. “So, what do you want to talk about,” he said, his voice completely lacking in any emotion.

As Becca stood there with her head narrowed downwards, the girl’s shaky voice finally began to speak. “I- I’m sorry for this Ryan, I just want to be with you for the rest of my life,” she began, immediately rushing up to the man and trying to grip him.

Despite how off-put he was by Becca’s statement, the man’s stone-faced expression finally began to soften as he felt the woman’s dainty arms reaching around his back. The physical sensation instantly reminded the man of the good times that they had throughout their many years together, especially when it came to the incredible sex that the two of them had. Immediately, the wheels in his head began turning as the concept of passionate makeup sex popped into his head. Thinking that he might be able to continue having some kinky sex with the girl under the guise of getting back together (he was still planning on going to California completely single), the man finally unfolded his arms.

As he moved the meaty limbs around the woman’s dainty frame and tightly squeezed her though, there was the sudden feeling of heat that spread through both of their bodies. Not only that, but as Ryan continued to hold her with his eyes closed, the sensation of pressure against his torso was quite apparent. So to find some answers about what was going on, the man opened his eyes and looked down at his torso. To his complete horror though, a large section of Becca’s body had somehow sunken into his body! Screaming in horror, he tried his best to try and flee, but found that his movements only brought along the female who was still tightly clinging around his muscular frame.

“Becca, get the fuck off of me,” Ryan cried aloud, trying his best to pull the woman’s arms away from around him but finding that the arms were unable to be pulled apart. As he attempted to thrash and escape the horrific entanglement he was a part of, the man soon found himself unable to move as a tightness was suddenly forming in the circle of limbs and body that wrapped around him. In one sudden tug, every inch of the woman’s body was quickly enveloped into Ryan’s body.

For a moment, everything suddenly went black for Ryan. But after a few seconds, Ryan’s vision was quickly regained and the man began to ponder whether he was having some gnarly after-effects from the weed that he had smoked the night prior. Eager to head to the beach and escape the twisted experience he had just fantasized about, the man quickly tried to fish his car keys out of his pocket and begin his journey. But although he could see the living room foyer he was in, it seemed as though the man had somehow lost the ability to move given the fact that his arms refused to reach towards his pockets. What the fuck is going on? Am I tripping somehow, he asked himself, trying to find some semblance of rationale behind what was occurring to him. But quickly, it became clear that something impossible was happening as his mouth and body began to move on its own accord…

* * * * *

“Hehe yes! It really worked!” his body exclaimed, taking a moment to tilt his head downwards and see the gorgeous shirtless torso staring back at him. To Ryan’s shock and disgust, he could watch and feel as his masculine and callused hands began to graze along every inch of his muscular build. As his body was continuously felt up and his muscles were flexed, the body invader couldn’t resist girlishly giggling as both them and Ryan picked up on the sudden rise of the man’s prominent manhood. “Oh shit, I’m sorry Ryan! This is my first time becoming a guy so bear with me,” the voice said with a chuckle, immediately causing the man to realize that Becca was now the one in complete control of his body!

No matter how hard he screamed and begged, Ryan was unable to get his ex’s attention as she eagerly flexed his muscles and tested out her brand new voice.

“Lemme guess Ryan, you’re currently freaking out and begging what’s happening to you right?” she inquired, taking not even a second-long pause before continuing to speak. “Well to put it simply Ryan, you were a goddamn prick that needed to be taught a lesson. Not only did you reject me for no reason, but you spread my messages around and now everyone in town thinks I’m some desperate and pathetic loser! Like, that’s so fucked up of you babe!” she exclaimed, a clear hint of anger in her gruff voice that immediately made Ryan realize the error of his ways. “Luckily for me, I have a friend who’s a witch that offered to help me get some revenge on my heartless dick of a boyfriend. After she cast the spell on me, I was given the ability of possession upon making physical contact with you. All I had to do was squeeze my way in and now I’m suddenly Ryan Sullivan!”

“Don’t worry though babe, we’re gonna be a great team together. With my brains as the class valedictorian and your brawn, we’ll be unstoppable in college,” she continued, beginning to walk down the hallway of the Sullivan residence. Before long, she finally entered Ryan’s bathroom and Ryan was thus treated to the terrifying sight of his reflection moving and speaking without his control. “While we’re going to be a great team, I can’t deny that we’re going to need to make some changes to your life Ryan. You see, while my friend was able to give me your body and other things such as important memories and your innate athletic skill, she was unable to pass along your sexuality and personality to help make me perfectly inhabit your life. So, I hate to say it babe, but I think you’re going to be coming out as a gay man soon. It works out great though that we’ll be heading out to college in a few months though, especially since that means I can be myself and not have to be this angsty and toxic version of Ryan all of the time.”

Upon understanding that Becca was going to completely demolish his life and the image that he had created for himself as this dominant and extremely cocky hunk, the man couldn’t help but scream into the darkest depths of his mind. To him, this was a nightmare come to life! To make matters even worse, it seemed as though there was no way of ever regaining control of his body as Becca made a passing remark while flexing about how the possession was permanent.

For Becca though, the concept of becoming Ryan Sullivan was a dream come true. Although there would surely be a hard learning curve in terms of adapting to having a cock and the near-constant boners she would surely be sporting for the foreseeable future, it was an upgrade in every other way. The Sullivan family was incredibly wealthy, so she would never have to worry about having to work hard in college. Instead, she’ll have all of the free time in college to explore her new body and build more muscle as she turns herself into the hottest gay man on campus. Although it would surely be nice to find a nice and respectful man to spend the rest of her life with, Becca couldn’t deny how happy she was to still have Ryan in her life. In more ways than one, they would now truly be together forever!

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to read more stories and support my work.

#male transformation #female to male #gender change #possession #sexuality change

755 notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 8 months

Text

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld

taglist form is in my pinned post- let me know if I’m missing you<3

#drunk tank #Daryl Dixon x reader #Shane Walsh x reader #shane walsh x y/n #Daryl Dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Shane Walsh x you

261 notes · View notes

therainscene · 2 years

Text

Something that struck me about Will’s bedroom in S4 is how asexually it’s decorated:

This boy is about to turn 15 and yet there’s not a single hunk to be found anywhere on his walls! Being closeted isn’t an excuse -- there’s plenty of plausible deniability in having posters of your favourite musicians, athletes, characters, etc, as our extremely heterosexual friend Michael can demonstrate:

Perhaps Will just is asexual. After all, outside of his chaste love for Mike, we only ever see him express his sexuality in the form of revulsion towards girls/heterosexuality; he honestly seems kind of neutral on men in general.

However... I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.

Will happens to conform to certain 80s stereotypes about gay men -- he’s sensitive, well-groomed, prefers art over sport -- and these traits have made him a target for homophobic abuse, probably since before he even realized he was gay.

Imagine how it must have felt, then, when he finally did realize he was gay. The bullies were right about that, all along. So what else were they right about?

What other stereotypes plagued gay men in the 80s? They were seen as threats that wanted to recruit children into their “lifestyle”...

...as disgusting perverts...

...and as carriers of disease.

Even as a 12 year-old with an innocent crush on his best friend, this poor kid already feels ashamed of a sexuality he hasn’t even matured into yet. So when he does start maturing into it, he represses it.

It’s no wonder that he identifies with Alan Turing, a man who was chemically castrated for being gay.

Who else do we know who might identify with what happened to Alan Turing?

Henry is queer-coded by way of parallels to Will: he’s sensitive, well-groomed, and likes art. Like Will, he had a parent who tried to make him more “normal”. Like Will, he’s suffered abuse for being different.

But Henry is also queer-coded in a way that parallels those homophobic fears about “the gay agenda”: he preys on children, recruiting some and killing the rest. He’s angry at the world for not having space in it for people like him, but it doesn’t occur to him that he could peacefully co-exist with the rest of society -- he wants to burn it all down and remake the world in his own image.

The thing is, homophobes are telling on themselves when they express such fears about gay men -- because what they fear queer people will do to them is what heteronormative society is already doing to queer people. Like Henry, they think this is a zero-sum game in which only one side can “win”.

So I don’t think Henry’s queer-coding is meant to be read literally as him being a predatory gay man.

Rather, he’s a personification of homophobia: the homophobe’s gay boogeyman made flesh.

(When it comes to other characters, he personifies a more broadly-applicable version of this concept. But the Duffers have stated that S5 will focus heavily on Will and his coming of age, so I think this queer reading of Vecna is a deliberate and central one.)

If Vecna represents external homophobia, then the Mind Flayer represents internalized homophobia.

Vecna sends it after Will and it literally gets inside him, burying his true nature under a layer of torment. It’s partially defeated when his family and friends see what’s happening and shower him with unconditional love, but it lingers at the back of his head as he starts to go through puberty, flaring up when he’s near or otherwise thinking about Mike.

The only time he doesn’t have to deal with these flare-ups is when he’s in California, far away from both Vecna and the homophobic town he grew up in. And he gains a lot of confidence in his identity while he’s there!

But, as the asexually-decorated bedroom suggests, he still feels a lot of shame too.

Will can’t fully self-actualize as a gay man until he breaks his connection with Vecna once and for all...

...with the boy who makes him feel like he’s not a mistake by his side.

#stranger things #byler #will byers #henry creel #mind flayer #mike wheeler #my analysis

857 notes · View notes

hotdogsfordinner · 7 months

Text

San Francisco, California USA

#asian hunk #hot asian men #hunkoftheday #asianmuscle #muscular #handsome #hottie #asian #woof #hot shirtless asian #san francisco #california #san franciso bay #skyline #skateboarding #shirtless skateboarder

8 notes · View notes

jamesmarsdenfan · 2 years

Text

James Marsden, Amelie Zilber,Chris Pine and Bella Heathcote attend the Ralph Lauren SS23 Runway Show at The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens on October 13, 2022 in San Marino, California. (Photo by Amy Sussman/Getty Images)

7 notes · View notes

makymakvrchat · 10 months

Text

Warner Bros Studio Tour

2 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

Lance knows the tradition. And as much as he often rolls his eyes about doing things just because “that’s how it’s always been done”, there are some things about it he really loves. Someone on their knees, in front of friends and family in some beautiful location, asking you to give them the honour of marrying you?

Absolutely fuckin’ dreamy. Lance would love that shit. He would be unashamedly riding that attention high for years. He used to daydream about it, to; talking to his siblings when they were up late, painting their nails and talking shit about whomever for fun. He knows he’s definitely explained ad nauseam his preference for a pretty diamond ring placed on his finger to the backdrop of the sun setting on the waves.

But, as it always does, life does not go according to plan.

His faceless daydreams were only fantasies. There’s nothing wrong with them — fantasies are fun, and can even be a basis for reality — they just didn’t match up with where he ended up! At no point in his life could he ever have expected to fall so deeply in love with the man he’d sworn so vehemently to hate. At no point could he ever have predicted being swept up into a war beyond his greatest comprehension with that man at his side, or to lead a war with that man. He could never have predicted the softness that would bloom between them, the gentle moments that would be just as frequent as the intense competitions.

Honestly, he never could have predicted Keith. Who could have? Keith is… he’s just so much. Of everything. There’s not a single thing he does that he doesn’t do with his whole heart and soul. He cares so deeply and intensely; his love is so all-encompassing… sometimes Lance lies in bed and is rendered breathless by the force of it; of him. He can scarcely believe that he is so lucky, that the universe aligned so carefully, that he has the chance to love Keith and be loved by Keith, in every day and in every way.

It’s a lot. It’s everything, really.

And so that’s why it has to be perfect. Away with the small crowd of friends and family, with the public space and pomp and circumstance — as much as Keith loves their family, and loves indulging Lance (seriously. What Keith wouldn’t do to make Lance happy… it makes Lance giddy just to remember it. He is so, so fucking lucky. He scored), Lance knows he values his privacy. Hell, it took nearly an entire year for anyone else to know that they were dating. Not because Keith was ashamed of him, or because either of them were afraid, but because Keith kind of likes to keep things to himself. He likes it when it’s just him and Lance, when they have inside jokes and secrets and moments that are just theirs.

Lance likes it too, frankly. Plus, there was nothing funnier than the pure outrage on all of their friends’ faces when they realised they’d been blind to Keith and Lance for eleven whole months. Truly a moment Lance has cherished.

All this to say that Lance has been preparing to finally ask Keith to be his husband. He’s told no one — not even Hunk — but several weeks ago he measured Keith’s ring size as he slept, and worked carefully with a jeweller to design something he knew Keith would love. That was the easy part. The harder part has been carving out the right time in both of their schedules; a time when they can give each other their full attention for long enough that Lance can do the asking and then have some time after for… ahem, celebrating.

(Lance has been looking forward to that part especially.)

But finally all the stars aligned — the two of them had a week off after spending three months on a Balmera with restoration efforts — and Lance can put his plan into motion.

The first thing he does is send Keith on some random errands. That buys him a few hours to set up the alcove by their front door — a collage of pictures of them over the years, pinned artfully to the wall; bundles of Keith’s favourite flowers, poppies and California lilies and sunflowers and desert roses; and perhaps most ostentatiously, a goofy banner that Lance hand-painted with the magic question. Is it elegant? Not really. A little tacky? Possibly.

But although Keith would rather surgically remove his tongue than admit it, he eats this shit up. He grew up with Shiro, for Christ’s sake. The man as watched every romcom ever made, and loves them all to pieces. Lance has watched 10 Things I Hate About You with him more times than he can physically count.

Once he’s satisfied with how the alcove is set up, he digs the velvet box out of its hiding place, tucking it carefully into his jeans pocket and settling into the truck to go pick up Keith.

If Lance was following his daydreams, they’d both be dolled up to the nines and heading to some fancy restaurant. Instead, Lance is wearing his dark red shirt that he knows makes Keith cross-eyed and his good jeans that make his legs look long. He knows that Keith is wearing his favourite flannel and his rattiest pair of converse, which Lance has had to literally patch back together because Keith refuses to throw the damn things out.

It fits better, somehow.

“Where are we headed, Casanova?” Keith asks, after trying (and failing) to convince Lance to let him drive. (As if. It’s Lance’s turn. The schedule says so and everything.)

“Surprise,” Lance says vaguely. He glances as surreptitiously as possible into the backseat, making sure that he did, in fact, remember to pack the food and the blankets.

(He did. He has also checked fourteen billion times. He is, although he knows it’s silly, the slightest bit nervous, apparently.)

“C’mon,” Keith prods, sliding a free hand into Lance’s hand. “Can’t I get a hint, baby? Just a little bit?”

“I am trying to drive. Keep that shit up and we’re gonna crash, you walking distraction.”

Keith laughs — cackles, really — but pulls his hand away.

“Loser. If I drove, you could distract me all you wanted and we’d still be fine.”

Lance reaches over blindly to grab Keith’s hand back, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the tops of his knuckles.

“Not a chance, babe.”

———

When they finally make it to their destination (after an hour of Keith complaining about the drive, trying to convince Lance to tell him where they’re going, and switching through every available radio station twelve thousand times before he’s satisfied), Lance throws the truck in park and practically sprints to open Keith’s door before he has the chance.

“Dork,” Keith teases, flicking him on the nose as he hops out.

Lance grins. “You love it.”

“You’ll never prove it.” He takes Lance’s offered hand, then looks around. “Where are we?”

Lance hums, carefully swinging the backpack he brought over his shoulders and tugging Keith away from the truck.

“Well, you see, my boyfriend is this massive nerd,” he starts playfully. Keith rolls his eyes, grinning.

“Nerd, you say, as if you don’t have alphabetized samples of cool rocks from every planet we’ve ever been on.”

Lance ignores the jab, plowing right on. “And because he is this massive nerd, I figured he would appreciate frolicking through the desert until we come to a decent spot, then eating this dope ass dinner I made for us —” he pats the backpack — “while watching the meteor shower that’s supposed to be visible tonight.” He grins widely at Keith’s excited gasp. “I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before a million times, but I thought it’d be nice.”

Keith says nothing, using their joined hands to yank Lance towards him and kiss him soundly.

“Sounds good to me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Lance’s lips, his jaw, his throat.

“Keith,” Lance says, breathless. Like everything with them, this has rapidly escalated off-course.

Why are they like this, again?

“We’ve got an itinerary, babe, we’ve gotta — oh, God, do that again.”

He feels Keith’s smirk against the hollow of his throat. “Wouldn’t be the first time we messed our plans in favour of the truck bed, sugar.”

“Itinerary,” Lance tries again, weakly.

“Truck’s right there,” Keith reiterates.

Lance has a lot of discipline, okay?

But Keith is convincing. He knows exactly which buttons of Lance’s to press.

And, if Lance is being entirely honest, he loves indulging Keith as much as Keith loves indulging him.

———

Their food goes cold.

“This is your fault,” Lance says, pointing a fork at the perpetrator in question. “I had this hot and ready to eat, and you stubbornly decided to be a distraction, you dick.”

Keith is entirely unapologetic.

“There was something else that was hot and ready for me to eat,” he says, looking pointedly at Lance’s ass and grinning wolfishly.

Lance smacks the shit out of him with a pillow.

“You are a dog!”

He’s laughing, though, as he says it, so it doesn’t quite have the desired effect. Keith has no qualms with teasing him right back, either, both of them spending as much time eating as they do roasting each other.

God, Lance cannot wait to put a ring on this bitch. The meteor shower better hurry the fuck up so Lance can take them home and get down on one knee, already.

As soon as Lance thinks it, Keith gasps, grabbing Lance’s arms and pointing at the sky.

“Look! It’s starting!”

It’s slow going, at first, barely one flash of light every five minutes, but eventually shooting stars are racing through the sky as thousands of rocks burn to nothing in Earth’s atmosphere.

Lance nudges Keith’s side. “Bet you’re wishing that Hunk brings another dozen eggs to the next diplomatic meeting to throw at people when they say stupid things.”

“There’s no way you knew that!” Keith protests immediately. “I must have spoken out loud!”

“Nope! I just know you, baby.”

“Well, I bet you wished that Allura and Veronica will finally kiss this month so you win the betting pool!”

They spend the rest of the meteor shower like that — frantically shouting out what they think the other wished after each star that shoots by. They’re both right a good half of the time, too.

It makes something warm and fiery ignite in Lance’s belly, to have someone who knows him so deeply. Without even talking about it.

It’s the best thing Lance could possibly wish for.

———

By the time the meteor shower ends, they’ve eaten their food, and it’s something like three in the morning. Keith yawns every few minutes, and doesn’t even bother with the radio on the way home, simply resting his head on the window and closing his eyes for a while. He doesn’t fall asleep — his hand is tangled with Lance’s, and his thumb runs constant lines over the backs of his knuckles — but he’s too tired to be fully awake, either.

Not Lance. Lance feels like he’s buzzing, the breeze from his cracked-open window the only thing keeping him from going supernova. He’s so excited he can barely breathe.

When they finally get home, Lance rushes again to open Keith’s door, who grins tiredly at him and presses a kiss to his cheek before following him inside. Lance takes a deep breath before opening the door, stepping quickly to the alcove and grabbing the ring from his pocket as Keith walks in.

Aaaannd… right past him.

Lance’s jaw drops. Keith is so tired he doesn’t even notice the newly decorated alcove, or even Lance — he simply walks to the kitchen with their picnic supplies. Lance hears him hum as he starts to put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher, their leftovers in the fridge.

“Lance, babe,” he calls, “do you care if I eat the last of the pan frito? It’s better fresh.”

Lance glances down at the ring. He barely holds himself back from cackling with laughter, because of course Keith is so distracted that he didn’t even notice Lance down on one knee.

“How about you come in here for a second, first?” Lance responds, voice shaking with amusement.

“What? No, come here if you want some! I’ll share, but I just mopped the floor yesterday, I don’t want to get crumbs all over it.”

“Keith,” Lance tries again, “come here for a goddamn second, will ya?”

“Alright, Jesus,” Keith grumbles. In what Lance assumes to be spite, he takes a couple minutes, before he finally turns the corner and sees Lance for the first time.

His freezes, the dishtowel he was carrying flutters to the ground.

“L-Lance? What’s going — what —”

“I have a question for you, sweetheart,” Lance says. He grins teasingly. “Would’ve asked earlier, but you walked right by me.”

“Oh my God.”

“You paying attention, now?”

“Oh my God!”

Before Lance can blink, Keith rushes forward, tackling Lance to the ground and pressing kisses all over his face; anywhere he can reach.

“Yes! Yes! Yes —”

Lance sets the ring in his lap so he can grab Keith’s frantic, fluttering hands.

“I haven’t even asked yet, babe.”

“Well, get to it!”

Lance snorts, but complies. “Keith Kogane,” he says, smile softening and gaze steady. “Will you marry me?”

Keith laughs, holding his left hand out to Lance, his right hand wiping the tears that have dropped down his cheeks.

“Yes, Lance McClain, I will marry you,” he chokes out. Lance grins brightly as he slides the ring up Keith’s fourth finger. The second the ring is in place, Keith smashes their mouths together, knocking Lance flat on his back.

He doesn’t mind.

It’s way better than a traditional proposal, anyway.

———

based on this video (ninth slide)

#that video made me LAUGH and i thought about Them immediately #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #marriage proposal #fluff #banter #adhd keith #keith has adhd #tall keith #my writing #fic #longpost

458 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

My Little Tech Wiz �� | Peter Hale Headcanon

Link to my Teen Wolf Masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

This going slightly off of canon because I’m erasing the fact Peter teamed up with Kate in S4. Basically imagine he forgone those plans because he realized you were worth more than petty vengence.

Being Stiles’ genius cousin who likes to invent gadgets and is romantically involved with Peter would look like:

Picture this: you’re Stiles’s older cousin and like he is an excellent detective, you are a genius inventor. Ever since you could pick things up with your hands you’ve been drawn to creating new things. Play-do, Legos, craft materials. That’s all you wanted to play with as a child because you could build and create different things from them. As you got older you had a keen for math and physics to the point where teachers were telling your parents to have you IQ tested. When you eventually did do the test, it came back you were a literal genius. Shortly after your parents built you a workshop in the storage shed they never used—you basically lived in your backyard because you were there every moment of free time you had. Only downside is your parents forbid you from putting a bed, kitchenette, and installing a bathroom—because then you would actually move out there.

While Beacon Hills was your home, you couldn’t say no to the opportunity of a lifetime when MIT offered you a full ride to their program. Double majoring in Physics & Mechanical Engineering, you graduated MIT at 21 years old, and went on to complete your Master’s and PhD just after you’re 25th birthday. The next six years you stayed on the east coast dedicated to scientific research and creating your own inventions while also teaching at MIT.

Quickly you became known in the field—considering you developed an Artificial intelligence robot named Pluto as part of your dissertation who operated on its own and looked like a real-life version of WALL-E. He was your little buddy and helped you in the workshop and office. “Y—Y/n…” “Yes you’re right—there’s something missing in the equation.”

What brought you back to Beacon Hills was a frantic call from Stiles’ father, your uncle, Noah. Though you & Stiles had quite the age gap between you—roughly fifteen years—he was always looked up to you and was fascinated by your inventions. He was only a small child when you left for college, but when his family would visit yours he was like your little shadow. Always asking questions and wanting to help you. So when Noah calls in evident distress saying Stiles was admitted to the Eichen House and he may have FTD you were on the first plane out to California. When you arrived Noah brought you back to the house and briefly explained to you the situation—leaving out the tiny fact it was possibly a dark fox spirit possessing the teenager.

You were pretty oblivious to a lot of weird things in Beacon Hills, however, you always had that deep intuition that something was going on. As long as it didn’t directly affect you, you tended to turn a blind eye to stuff that looked odd or didn’t have a clear explanation for why it happened. So when Stiles was void and interacted with you there was nothing that made you assume it wasn’t him. You literally went about your conversations with him like it was any other day. It wasn’t until you witnessed the Nogitsune split from Stiles in Scott’s living room that you audibly yelled, “What the fuck?!” Which had everyone, especially Stiles, shitting themselves because 1: most of them had no idea you were there, 2: most didn’t know who you were, and 3: you just saw something you shouldn’t have and they couldn’t lie about it.

That was where you first met Peter. In the middle of Scott’s living room as he held down Stiles, who was covered head-to-toe in gauze, on the couch. With your jaw dropped and staring wide eyed like you just witnessed the second coming of Jesus. You couldn’t even appreciate the hunk openly checking you out because you were too flabbergasted with what had happened. “I knew this town had weird shit going on—b-but my cousin throwing up himself was not what I had in mind!” Melissa was quick to usher everyone out while Stiles—the real one—and Scott did their best to explain in less than two minutes before they had to haul ass to find Lydia and Void Stiles.

When everything calms down and seems to be going back to normal, you end up deciding to move back to Beacon Hills. You’re research was independent so there was no need to stay at MIT for funding—plus you made enough throughout the year by doing seminars and being a field expert that you could make do with setting up shop back home and focus on your inventions. Purchasing your own two-story loft penthouse, the first floor was the actual living space whereas the entire second floor was your workshop. Stiles loved visiting you, and whenever he needed to hide something from his dad you were the first person he went to.

One day you were working on your newest project, mask on and blowtorch in hand, when the pack (plus Peter) walked in. All of them were pretty much in awe of your workshop—in disbelief by the holograms and robots around them. Little Pluto scurried past them on a mission to retrieve a part you needed, everyone minus Stiles watching in wonder. Their arrival surprised you, a audible yelp leaving your mouth when Stiles came up behind you—only for him to yelp as well when you nearly took his face off with the blowtorch. “Hey! Hey! Watch it!” “You know better than to sneak up on me like that Stiles! You remember what happened to Uncle Larry when he did?” The pack stated their business, which was the Deadpool situation and wanted to know if you could potentially trace the location given your system was very advanced.

After telling them it may take a while with the little information they currently had (and they were going to be late for class since it was their lunch hour they had used to come see you) everyone except Peter and Derek left with the two Hale’s saying they’d wait in case something were to pop up. It gave Peter the perfect excuse to try and talk to you—-and if we’re being honest it was likely for malicious intents in the beginning. Mostly it was to see what benefits you’d bring him by befriending you and how your creations could be used against the pack.

So yeah, Peter didn’t have the best intentions when he first started talking to you, but that disappeared within the first day of knowing you. It started when he felt a tug on his plant leg, glancing down to see Pluto gazing up at him. “Peteeeer.” “Uhhh—.” “He’s asking if you’d like something to drink.” “Him? You…you can understand him?” “Of course I can. He’s my child.” That sparked a conversation lasting several hours to the point he forget why he was even there in the first place. Also he couldn’t help but find it attractive when you corrected him after he addressed you as Mr./Ms. Stilinksi in a playful manner and you went, “Uh it’s Doctor to you, buddy.”

When y’all officially started dating the pack was not happy about it—especially your uncle and Stiles. The rest of the pack had taken a liking to you rather quickly and they knew how Peter was, so you can imagine they were worried. “He has literally murdered people, Y/n. Not by accident—premeditated murder.” “Did they deserve it?” “I-Uh I guess—in his eyes yes. Some of it was because they started something with him.” “Then I don’t see the issue then—.” “Are you serious?!”

As an official member of the pack, you design and create gadgets, weapons, and tools for them. For example, you’re the one who created Kira’s retractable Katana belt. She was in absolute awe when you unveiled it to her, “This is so cool!” “And wanna know the best part? It can get through metal detectors.” After discovering Parrish’s nature, you made it your mission to make a special custom uniform made out of a very rare and expensive fire retardant fabric you created. “This way you’re not burning off all your clothes every time you catch fire.”

Peter loved watching you work. And he could listen to you talk about mechanics and physics for hours. He had a special seat that was close to you but not in your way and would watch in admiration as you rushed to map out equations and blueprints. Expect him to bring you a Red Bull, coffee, lunch and even dinner on days your extra busy. That usually was when you had a deadline to meet, so Peter was also a voice of reason by telling you take breaks, stay hydrated and get plenty of sleep. “You’re going to burn yourself out, sweetheart. And if you do that then mistakes happen.” “I know but I’m so close to finishing this—.” “And tomorrow is the perfect time to get that done. So let’s sit, eat, put on a movie and then sleep the night away.”

Oh y’all’s first kiss happened when you were rambling. It was either you confessing your feelings to him or going off about how your work’s been stressing you out when Peter cuts you off mid sentence by pressing his mouth to yours. He’d been waiting what felt like forever to kiss you, and you were just so adorable in your rambling he couldn’t help himself. And boy does he love kissing you—he can’t get enough of it. Only thing is Pluto will tug on y’all’s pant leg to interrupt when he needs your attention on something. And the little robot is just too cute even Peter can’t get upset at him.

If you get hurt due to a malfunction Peter is there to take your pain even if its small or rush you to the emergency room if its bad. “Peter, we could’ve handled this at home.” “You nearly severed your finger off, Y/n…..” There is always a sense of worry in Peter when you’re working on something big. After an accident that caused a mini explosion in your workshop when he wasn’t there has left Peter stressing that he’s gonna walk into your place on fire. He’s not the only one in his worries, Stiles and your uncle end up forming a ‘civilized relationship’ with the beta when it comes to making sure you’re in one piece.

Eventually the werewolf learns to communicate with your robots. Really Pluto is the one he understands the best—and the little guy is his favorite of the bunch. “Peeeeteer.” “I thought you said roses were their favorite?” “Peterrrr.” “Oh well then, sorry for misunderstanding. But roses and daisies are two different types—I thought you were supposed to be the most intelligent thing on the planet?” “Peter!” “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Malia really likes you. Even after her and Stiles break up you two remain close. In fact she comes to you for advice often—not just about boy or pack troubles but also about her relationship with Peter. It pleases her to know he’s genuine in his affections towards you, considering love and caring nature is not a side any of them ever see. Only you get to see that side of him, but on rare occasions when Malia is present she’s witnessed the soft side of her father. Like when assists you on holding a part while you screw it in place or take a tissue to wipe the food on the corner of your mouth. “He was never like that before he met you. From what Stiles and Scott have said, he was practically a menace to society.” “Oh I can assure you he still is…just a lovable one when I’m nearby.” “Stop talking about me. I’m literally right here.”

Peter is very protective of you. He’s the type of boyfriend who’s like, “who did this to you?” Or “touch them, you die.” This is pretty much how the pack realized he was serious about his feelings for you because when Theo targeted you as a way to hurt the pack, Peter about ripped him to shreds until Scott pulled him away. “You got lucky,” he spits at the boy, “there won’t be a next time. Touch them again—no you so much as breathe in their direction and I will rip your throat out with my teeth.” That night ended with the man snuggling against you on your bed, promising to never let anything bad happen to you.

“You might be the big bad wolf, but you’ve got a heart in you, Peter Hale.” “Don’t be fooled, my little tech wiz. That heart is reserved only for you.”

#peter hale #peter hale imagine #peter hale headcanon #peter hale x reader #peter hale x you #peter hale x y/n #teen wolf heacanon #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x platonic reader #stiles stilinsky headcanon #peter hale fluff #teen wolf fluff

303 notes · View notes