#STOP STICKING YOUR FUCKING FINGERS IN THE ROOT BEER!!
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#STOP STICKING YOUR FUCKING FINGERS IN THE ROOT BEER!!#A&W#root beer#cream soda#vhs#gif#1991#nutrasweet#aspartame#blecch
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call it what you want.
matt sturniolo x fem reader. enemies to lovers!!
WHEW YALL HEY. it’s been a while but i’m super excited to be back. love u ❤️🩹
warnings: suggestive. arguing
this will be multiple parts!!!!
pt2
"im not a child anymore! i cant move 2 inches without them being on my ass about something" you exclaimed as you paced up and down the living room.
nick sat on the couch, gawking at you as you ranted. you sighed before stopping and pointing a finger at nick.
"and you know what, they dont do this to my brother, nooo he can fuck all the girls he wants but i mention one guy im not even dating and suddenly im going off the rails" nick just stared at you with a questionable expression on his face.
you knew he wouldnt understand, his parents were so lenient, so the fact you were going on a 20 minute tangent about how strict yours were was completely futile and you may as well be speaking in a different language.
you dropped your hands and whined before stomping over to the couch and plopping down next to nick.
"i mean, how could i win nick? they want me to be happy but i wanna be happy with a hot boyfriend" you said as you turned your head to look at him, he just looked down at you with a sympathetic but mischievous look.
"im worried my advice is going to get you in trouble" he cringed. you pulled your head back and furrowed your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.
"i mean... you need to rebel y/n, find someone whos completely foreign to them" you stared at him, thinking for a second.
it wasnt like you wanted to, but the fact that their heads would fall off if you found someone who was the complete opposite of your parents and their expectations, brought you a little bit of complete fucking joy.
it was like a lightbulb moment, your eyes widened, and a cheesy grin pulled at your lips as you practically leaped off of the couch and continued your pacing.
"i need someone who is all mean and mysterious, or maybe a guy who drives a motorbike or plays the drums" you rambled looking at nick for approval but being met with a flat expression on his face.
"seriously y/n?" he questioned.
"whatever im just brainstorming" you waved him off.
"whoever he is needs to be nonchalant, he needs to smoke and drink, maybe dabble in partying every now and again, he needs to have tattoos and long hair. i mean be honest, if you came home with a guy like that, i think your mom would drop dead" he explained, letting out a small laugh before leaning forward slightly.
and as if god himself was listening, matthew sturniolo appeared in the doorway, in all of his long haired and tattood glory, sipping on a can of root beer, watching you intently.
both you and nick snapped your head towards him as he stood there with a stoic expression.
"what do you want weirdo?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.
he squinted at you before sticking his hand out besides him in question.
"your in my house y/n. the real question is what do you want" he spat.
truth was you and matt had never gotten along. despite your decade long friendship with his brothers, there was always something about him that you couldnt stand and apparently matt felt the same way towards you, so the two of you started an unspoken hatred for each other one day and it has stood strong ever since.
neither of you were sure why it started, but matt always hated the way you thought you were better than everyone else, how you could never admit when you were in the wrong, or the way your scent stuck to everything so he could always smell you around the house, but mostly he hated the way his cock would jump when you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, even when you were spitting insults at him.
"i want you to stop listening to our conversation and get the fuck out of my face" you bit back, turning to face him and crossing your arms, keeping your hard stare fixed on him.
"please, you love it when i get in your face y/n. and you know what, have a little more compassion, your parents are wonderful people." he scoffed as he took a step towards you, keeping his eyes trained on yours. he was clearly trying to get under your skin, and it was working.
"they dont even like you matt, i wouldnt be so up their ass" you smiled sarcastically. he just laughed before taking another step towards you.
"and i cant stand their bitch of a daughter so were even" he spoke lowly, shooting daggers at you. there was a few seconds of silence where you and matt were just glaring at each other. wordlessly throwing insults and screaming at one another, before nick cleared his throat, causing the bubble around you both to pop.
you and matt turned to look at nick who was standing up from his seat on the couch, with an expression that you couldnt place. you could feel the heat radiating off of matt, in the midst of the bickering you hadnt realized how close he had gotten, you hadnt realized how good he smelt, or how him looking down at you like a disobedient child made you want to drop to your knees there and then.
nick opened his mouth to speak, his eyes jumping from you to his brother, who was stood not even a foot away.
"back to the topic at hand...why dont you date chris?" nick said like it was the most obvious option.
"you cant be serious..." matt trailed off, looking at his brother.
"no way nick, hes like my brother, plus my parents like him" you explained, ignoring matts comment, moving away from him and taking a seat back on the couch, folding your legs up underneath you.
"fake it, be in a fake relationship with him" you werent sure what planet nick was living on, but he was not helping in any way shape or form.
you just rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the realization this was never going to work. there was a pregnant pause, all 3 of you, thinking completely different things, before matt broke the silence.
"ok so let me get this straight, you wanna piss off your parents, and show them your all grown up, by finding a guy in a biker gang..... as a scare tactic?" he asked, sending questioning looks between you and nick.
"not a biker gang matt" nick replied flatly, shaking his head at him.
"so just someone with tattoos, and long hair?" he spoke, placing his drink down on the coffee table and crossing his arms over his chest.
you shrugged and nodded your head at him. why was he so interested.
"so you just wanna use someone, to make your parents mad?" he furrowed his brows, desperately trying to get this right, but you were sure he was trying to make you feel bad so you didnt go through with it, just so you would stay miserable. or so you thought.
"call it what you want matt, i dont care what you think, this is none of your business" you spat.
you watched matts eyes wander from yours to his brothers who had been suspiciously silent. they were exchanging glances, like they were speaking some sort of wordless language, and it was concerning. usually, matt wouldve threw an insult back at you, but his expression didnt even waiver.
pulling your eyes away from matt, you turned to nick with a confused expression, and studdied his face, watching as his eyes lit up and he grinned, before turning to face you with a look in his eye that you couldnt decipher.
"before you say anything, just hear me out"
_______________________________________________
taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @st4rswrld @soursturniolo @kvtie444 @mattslolita @flowerxbunnie @lovingsturniolo @its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @justaslvttygirl @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @delimeats-000 @gloomymatt @gwenlore @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast
#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#mango talks#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#chris sturniolo blurb#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo imagine#christmas#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#my stuff#sturniolo smut#smut#series.#fanfic#s#Spotify
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swim - Chris Sturniolo
summary: your best friend madi, throws a pool party for her 18th. the nights going smoothly until chris invites you to come inside with him.
warnings: smut, nsfw, swearing, caught having sex,
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the blaring music from inside madis house was drowning out the splashes from inside the pool. i was sitting on the side of the pool next to matt until i feel a hand on my shoulder, followed by him sitting down next to me.
"oh hey chris!" i say chirpily.
the sturniolos have been my best friends for a while now, but chris has always been the person im closest to. i hate to admit it, but ive also had my eyes on him for a few months and he has no idea. i think.
by now matt's left to go get a root-beer from inside, me and chris are left alone sitting by pool, observing all the people swimming.
suddenly my heart skips a beat, chris's veiny hand is resting on my thigh. im only wearing a skimpy white bikini and a variety of gold jewlery. chris's fingers rub the inside of my thighs, making me squirm slightly.
he leans in closer and whispers into my ear "whats wrong y/n? why are ya moving so much." he says teasingly.
he definitely knows what he's doing
"chris." i say quietly, "hm?" he mumbles, squeezing my thigh tighter.
suddenly chris removes his hand from me and stands up, readjusting his shorts, he reaches a hand down and grabs mine, pulling me up onto my feet. he stays silent as he holds my hand, dragging me up the concrete steps and through madis backdoor.
the inside of her house is empty, apart from a few people in her kitchen, "chris? where are we going?" i say softly as chris pauses infront the stairs. "wanna go upstairs?" he says bluntly, but i can tell hes nervous.
"to do what exactly?" i question. sureley he's not implying what i think.
"hang out..?" he lies through his teeth, but i nod anyways, i mean i wouldn't be mad if anything were to happen. he walks up the stairs behind me and i can feel his eyes laying on me. i walk into to the bathroom and stand awkwardly as chris walks in.
his wet hair is sticking to his forehead, as he looks me up and down. he wearing nothing but swim shorts and a chain, and its driving me crazy.
tension grows between us, without warning he walks towards me and grabs my jaw and locks his lips with mine, my heart stops but i subconsciously wrap my arms around his neck, he reaches a hand down and grabs my ass. i pull away for a second to catch my breath, and he takes the opportunity to pick me up and kneel down on the bathroom tiles.
he lays me on my back and kneels between my knees
"is this okay?" he asks, looking in my eyes.
"chris fuck me please" i say attempting to maintain eye contact.
"you're so fucking gorgeous" he mumbles as he pulls my bikini top off from over my head, his eyes widen while im exposed for him. "can i take these off?" he asks, tugging at the waistband of my bikini bottoms and i nod frantically. he pulls them down to my ankles then discards them across the room.
"god your wet" he groans as he circles my clit with his finger, "so perfect." he continues, rubbing my clit faster. i feel the knot in my stomach clenching, my moans intensify as i grip him arm so hard my knuckles go white, suddenly he stops. "chris!" i whine and he smirks slightly "i know i know." he says pulling down his swim shorts, letting his boner spring out.
"oh my god." i groan quietly "can you spread a little more for me princess?" chris says gripping the inside of my thigh and pushing it, forcing me to spread my legs apart, he shifts slightly on his knees so he can come closer to me.
he lines himself up with my entrances and slowly sinks into me, i wince from the stretch "good girl. taking me so well" he praises as he starts to thrust slowly.
"chris oh my god" i moan as he picks up the pace
"im close baby" chris warns as his thrusts become more frantic.
the door to the bathroom swings open. my neck snaps instantly looking to the right at the door, matt nick and madi are all in shock as chris instantly pulls out and yanks up his shorts. pure humiliation floods through me, i feel sorry for chris aswell, his two brothers have just walked in on him pounding into me, their bestfriend.
Madi looks me in the eyes, her eyes are bulging out of her head but she shoots me a quick smirk before instantly swinging her body around and leaving the bathroom, she knows ive liked chris for a while now. im laying naked on the bathroom floor as matt and nick scream and slam the door to the bathroom shut.
chris looks at me in horror before he takes off out of the bathroom, leaving me embarrassed, naked and cold on the floor of Madis bathroom. i instantly stand up and pull on my bikini, tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
i knew chris didnt like me, the look he gave me before he ran off was the only thing on my mind. he was probably just horny.
i sigh loudly before opening the door to bathroom and stepping out into the hallway. i run downstairs and out of the house down the front porch steps. i dont look back as i take off in my car in the direction of my home.
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(1 week later)
i haven't spoken to the sturniolos for a week, i've been utterly ashamed. i've felt used by chris, and humiliated from the fact my 2 best friends saw me like that.
i check the time on my phone, 10:25pm. ive been lying in bed all day, and haven't ate once. with a sigh i heave myself off of my bed and pull on a sweatshirt. i grab my keys and open my bedroom door, walking downstairs and out the front door. my eyes are puffy and red, this whole week ive been crying and dealing with the fact ive just lost 3 friends.
i open the door to my car and climb in, clicking on my seatbealt and pulling out onto the street.
after 10 minutes of driving, i pull into the parking lot of mcdonalds then turn off my car, i walk into the restaurant and my heart drops to my stomach,
nick, matt and chris are standing right before me and staring at me. i lock eyes with every single one of them, my bottom lip quivers and my eyes fill with tears as they continue to look at me. as soon as chris locks eyes with me i spin around and speed-walk out the door. i sprint towards my car and just sit in it for a good 5 minutes.
as soon as i pull into my driveway i see a text, my jaw drops.
chris
i'm coming over, we need to talk.
okay.
i get out of my car, im shaken up as i walk inside my house. i throw myself on the couch and wait.
i jump as my front door creaks open "its just me" chris calls out and i sigh. he walks into the living room and i wave at him, why the fuck did i wave?
he sits down on the couch next to me "im really sorry that happened" he starts "i shoulda locked the door." he says and silence grows.
"is that all?" i say with a small scoff.
"i dont know" he says nervously
"so you're not sorry about leaving me fucking humiliated naked on the bathroom floor then leaving me on delivered for a week?" i shout and chris's eyes widen.
"im so fucking sorry i honestly wasn't thinking" he pauses "and i know this isnt the right time but i really, really like you and i have for a while now" he says quietly and i gasp slightly "you do?"
"was it not obvious.." chris says smiling slightly
a comfortable silence grows between us until i break it, bursting out in sobs. chris jumps slightly before looking at me "hey hey, shit you okay?" chris says pulling me close to him and into his arms.
"sorry.." i say in between sobs
"you're okay, whats wrong sweetheart." he says rubbing my arm
"i just thought i'd lost you."
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i actually dont know if this is good help
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader
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I've been playing with this idea of meeting Carmy at a party, and neither of you really want to be there. So you get out of there. Let me know if anyone would like to see a full fic of this.
Not super proofread. Lots of swearing. Thank you for reading <3
p.s. apologies for dunking on Richie in this, I love him
Pity Party
Carmy Berzatto x reader
* * *
Fuck Richie, and fuck this party.
The words circled through your head again and again, tumbling and hitting the inside of your skull to the beat of the music blasting from the living room. You fought against the pounding headache that began to grow from it.
The drunken nights and stagnant air of parties like these had never been your favorite. Not as you now held your shirt away from your skin so the spilled beer dripping all down your front didn’t stick to you. Some drunk asshole was waving his cup around while he told a gross story about a woman he’d hooked up with — most of the contents landed on you during a particularly lewd gesture. As you walked to the house’s bathroom, you pitied whoever she was.
You avoided these kinds of parties for this reason, among others. Your cup only had water in it for Christ’s sake. But Richie practically begged you to come, even though he was the only person you knew. And he was your ride home. You didn’t even know whose house you were at. You hadn’t seen him since you’d arrived.
As you turned the corner, your shoes sticking along the floor with each step, you nearly ran into a woman standing against the wall. You quietly apologized before noticing she stood in line behind several other people.
“Is this for the bathroom?” you asked, not bothering to hide the tiredness from your voice.
“Yep,” the woman answered, popping the ‘p’ of the word. “Only one there is, too.”
Biting back a sharp groan, your jaw clenched tight, you gave her a nod and turned back down the hallway. Fuck Richie indeed.
Shoulders bumped against your body as you pushed your way through to the kitchen. Goosebumps rose along your skin where you couldn’t keep your shirt from touching, yet in this rising heat of the many bodies here, you knew the dampness would turn swampy quickly.
You’d dry the beer and then ask Richie to take you back — which he wouldn’t. Maybe you’d try ordering a ride or begging a friend to come get you.
Finally in the kitchen, you saw a tipped-over roll of paper towels in the corner. Partially lying in a puddle of what you assumed was more spilled beer, the paper towels still looked like they came from the goddamn heavens. Grabbing them, you shuffled your way between people toward the sink.
Just as you nearly made it to the sink, your steps stuttered to a stop. You swallowed down a groan at someone leaning on the counter in front of it. The man there had a head of curly hair standing out against the dark blue sweater he wore.
The second you came close, his eyes caught yours. They widened as he muttered out a quick, “Shit, sorry.” He raised his tattooed hands as he moved to the side, his fingers gripping a can of Pepsi.
Giving him a tight but appreciative smile, you began drying your shirt over the sink. The paper towels grew dark as they soaked up some of the liquid. But no matter how much you blotted, it still felt gross against you.
“Here, uh, let me find some soap or somethin’,” the man to your side said. He reached a hand toward the cupboard under the sink. Hesitantly, you stepped out of his way and let him root around in there. Your fingers picked at the seam of your pants until he stood back up a few seconds later — with a nearly empty bottle of dish soap in hand.
He’d barely set it down before searching in another cupboard, leaving you to absentmindedly continue dabbing at the stain. This time, you let your gaze look at the tattoos trailing up his forearms and disappearing beneath his sweater. But you shifted your eyes away as he looked at you, while grabbing out a bowl and filling it with water.
“If you get some warm, soapy water on it right away,” he said, squirting some of the dish soap into the water, using his finger to mix it together, “it’ll help keep the stain from setting.”
With a slight frown still dotting your expression, you ripped off another section of the paper towels. Dipping them into the bowl he held out, you told him, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, ‘f course,” he said, nodding quickly, setting the bowl down. “You can try and get some vinegar and water on it when you get home. Or rubbing alcohol if you have it.”
You glanced at him for a second. God, were his eyes blue. “You spill beer on yourself often?”
The ghost of a laugh pulled from his mouth. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the counter again. “No, uh, not really. But I’ve had plenty of food on me in my time.”
You let out a confused laugh, but before you asked further, you noticed how the beer slowly diluted from the fabric. The constant smell of beer finally grew fainter. “You’re a goddamn lifesaver. Thank you,” you told him, shaking your head. “I wasn’t sure how I’d survive getting home smelling like a bar.”
He actually grinned that time, and you decided that he had a nice smile. Grabbing his Pepsi again, he took a sip before saying, “Jus’ let me know if you need anything else.”
A laughing scoff escaped your mouth as soon as he said that. You lifted your shirt away from your body to discreetly wipe off the sticky residue along your skin, your teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. “You could tell Richie to shove it for me.”
His smile slowly dropped, his eyes connecting with yours. “Christ…what’d he do this time?”
The anguish in his voice brought a smile to your mouth, something you hadn’t had since you got here. “So you know him?”
As you grabbed more paper towels to now dry everything, you watched him run his hand through his curly hair and then over his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, probably too well.”
You pursed your lips. “Yeah, well Richie invited me here. Normally, I’d say no — but god he’s persistent-”
“God. Yeah, he is.”
“Right? So I give in and, y’know, give him the benefit of the doubt and all,” you said as the man nodded along. “But he went off somewhere almost instantly to catch up with this ‘friend of a friend’s brother’ or whatever — without a word, of course.”
A breathy laugh left his mouth. “Of course.”
You let out a sharp breath. “I know this isn’t all Richie’s fault, but I’m blaming him just a little for getting covered in cheap beer,” you muttered, beginning to ramble. “The worst part really is that he said there’d be food here, but there’s only a few stale chips and watery salsa. I mean, who lies about snacks?”
“Criminal,” he said almost under his breath.
“Yeah, I’d say this is the last time I let him talk me into one of these, but there’s only so many ways to hide from your next-door neighbor in an apartment building.” You shook your head as you remembered him inviting you to this one — your fingers on the handle of your apartment door waiting to get in after a long day at work. Truthfully, you enjoyed your conversations with Richie and appreciated the excuse to get out of your place.
“Oh shit, you’re Richie’s neighbor?” the man questioned, his arms crossed back across his chest. Your eyes traced the veins along the back of his hands as a slight twist went through your stomach at his words.
Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “Is that a bad thing?” You hadn’t thought there was much worth of note from your experiences with Richie or his daughter.
“No. Well, a little. He wouldn’t fucking shut up about this neighbor who smelled his spaghetti and knocked on his door asking for the recipe. I got the dish cut from the restaurant, but he used that story again and again to try and convince me to keep it,” he explained, a hint of red beginning to peak along his neck.
As someone passed between you two to grab the paper towels, you winced, ready to apologize for the spaghetti drama you caused when a question passed through your thoughts. “You work at The Beef?”
He nodded as you remembered the rant Richie went on when you’d asked for the spaghetti recipe, which you’d only done because you were starving and hoping he’d give you a little — which he did. Slowly, you tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the man. “Wait… Do you run The Beef?”
His gaze dropped for a second, his mouth flattening into a straight line. “Uh, yeah. Trying to, at least.”
“Wow,” you breathed out, giving a small smile, “you’re Carmy. Can’t say I’m envious of your job — it’s sometimes all Richie talks about. Or you. He talks about you a lot,” you told him, angling your chin upward. You could now pick out the tiredness etched into the lines of his face.
“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows raised, a grin growing across his face.
“Oh yeah. I thought you’d be a lot more annoying from all the stories I’ve heard,” you said, dropping the used paper towels into a nearby trash can. And you couldn’t fight the hint of warmth in your body at seeing him laugh harder at that. With what you’d heard of the restaurant’s struggles, you briefly wondered if Carmy hadn’t done a lot of that lately. But finding out didn’t sound terrible.
Just as the conversation lulled, your stomach decided to announce its displeasure with the lack of food at the party. “Wouldn’t mind some of that spaghetti now actually,” you grumbled with a short laugh.
“You hungry?”
The question almost didn’t register as you looked down at your shirt. Your hands slowed their incessant smoothing long enough to consider his question. You glanced at him quickly.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I didn’t really get time for dinner before coming here… ” you uttered beneath his expectant stare, unsure of where to go from there. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” he laughed, shaking his head as if that wasn’t the point. “But if you need a place to eat, I know this taqueria not far from here. It’s open late, and their tacos are fire,” he offered, running a hand through his hair again.
“Oh, thank you.” You smiled at him, already thinking of the food that you wouldn’t get to eat. You waved him off. “But Richie’s my ride, and I don’t think he’s going to leave anytime soon. Plus, I should get home before going out again. Don’t think anyone would appreciate smelling a brewery the whole time.” You let out a breathy, almost nervous laugh.
His fingers played with the tab on the Pepsi can, twisting it this way and that. “Wan’ a ride? We could pick up the food and drop you off at home.”
Your eyes dragged inch by inch from your shirt to his. A warmth swam in them, not like the stifling heat of this house, but the kind that warmed the last minutes of a summer evening. It almost drowned out the music and chatter that’d begun to drift out of your awareness.
“Don’t you want to stay at the party?” you asked, your expression settling toward a frown.
A hair curl slipped onto his forehead as he shook his head. “I also came for Richie. And both are shitty. I don’t mind ditching for good food.”
You pursed your lips and, with your stomach already grumbling, found that the decision was not a difficult one to make.
So, you followed Carmy between the waves of people and across the sticky floors, not taking your eyes off the patches of color on the jacket he’d put on. The first deep breath in hours filled your lungs in the night air. Your exhale curled out in white wisps beneath the clouds and above the thawing ground of spring. The sauntering breezes felt chilling against your damp shirt and made you hurry after Carmy to his car.
His van doors creaked as you climbed in. Your hands pressed between your thighs to build a little heat as the engine revved awake. But in the pulsing silence away from the party, you felt much smaller here.
As he pulled onto the road, you said, “Thank you for driving me, by the way.”
You turned to catch his firm nod beneath the passing streetlights, each one illuminating the moles and lines of his skin. The radio buzzed quietly beneath the bump and dips of the van’s wheels along the cracked roads.
#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear#the bear fx
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losing v to matt
Pet Names
summary: check the request
warning: smut, language
pairing: matt sturniolo x reader
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“truth or dare?” matt says pulling a card from the deck to ask his next question.
“truth.” i whisper in the dark of matts room, the only light being the laptop in front of us.
“how old were you when you lost your virginity?”, he chuckles in a low tone.
i shine him an awkward smile, before picking up his root beer to take a sip “uhhh, that information is not yet available.”
“what?” he whisper yells, eyes blown wide.
“i just haven’t had a connection with someone like that.”
“fair.” he shrugs.
i feel weird so i try to explain. “it’s not like i don’t want to, like if i met the right guy who respects and genuinely likes me then yknow hop in my pants but i haven’t found that person i mean i found you but like you dont like me like that although i wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to-”
he cuts me off with a kiss.
he pulls away slowly, “sorry.” i lean in kissing him again.
“wait, are you ok with this?” i pull away looking back and forth between his eyes for any sign of uncomfort.
“yes, i really really want this.”
we kiss once more, the deeper it gets the more he pulls me in. one hand on my cheek and another on my waist he pulls me to sit in his lap. i wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him into me.
pressed up against eachother, he begins kissing down my neck. shuddering under his touch i let out an unintentional moan.
“shit. dont do that, gonna make me hard.”
i grab his face and have him look me in the eyes. “what if that’s what i want?”
he flips us both over, on top of me he pecks my lips before asking, “are you sure?”
i nod my head.
“use your words, beautiful.”
“matt, please. take my virginity.”
“yes ma’am, you gotta be quiet though ok? dont want nick and chris to know im in here fucking you.”
he takes off his shirt and asks my to slide my pants off aswell. moving down the bed he runs his hands down both sides of me. they glide down to my lace underwear and he kisses my pantie line. he hooks his fingers under the waist band pulling them down and off completely.
“im gonna make you feel good, ok?”
“yes matt please.”
“good job, using your words.”
he spreads my legs and smiles, “so pretty.” his thumb comes up to my clit, rubbing in circles and at a slow pace.
“fuck, matt. i want you inside me, please.”
“gonna stretch you out first, sweetheart. just be patient.”
all these pet names are killing me, i know he knows by the way i squirm under him with every name he groans out.
he runs a single finger down my folds and gets it wet before sticking it inside of me. his finger does circles inside me. i moan, at the new sensation if his long slender finger in me.
with one more moan he adds another finger scissoring and curling them slowly.
“matt, fuck- im ready please”
“are you sure baby?”
“yes matt please, fuck me”
“anything for you, pretty girl.”
i let out a long whine at the loss of his fingers, he pulls his pants down along with his boxers.
kissing me softly he lines himself up with my entrance, he gently pushes in stopping when his tip in inside me.
“FUCK!! fuck- matt”
“shh shh, i know princess. we have to be quiet remember?”
“yes, sorry matt”
“dont apologize baby, it’s ok.”
he stays still for a moment longer let pushes himself into me completely without warning.
i cover my mouth to not let out any noise. “good girl. so proud of you.”
not wanting to waste anymore time i ask him to move. he slowly thrusts into me. the pace is agonizingly slow, i need more.
“matt faster, please.” i whine.
he speeds up now pounding into me holding my right hand in his and with the other he presses down on my lower stomach.
“doing so good baby, you look so pretty taking me like this.”
“fuck ma- matt i think im cumming.”
i feel myself come undone all over him. “good girl, cum for me baby.”
and with that i completely release everything i have onto his cock, im a moaning mess as we ride out my high. he pulls out and with the loss of his dick inside of me i feel empty, he begins stroking his length getting himself off the the sight of me fucked stupid in front of him. he cums all over my stomach, the warm white ribbons burn into my skin.
he leans over and kisses me, “you did so good for me. lets get you cleaned up now yeah, princess?”
“yes, please.”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
i really like this one, love you 🫶🏼
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#fanfics#requests are open#reader insert#i love mattew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo is hot#matt sturniolo x you#matthew bernard sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo smut#x y/n smut
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Day 13: Flirt
“Hey, how you doing?” Dean saddles up to the unoccupied stool near the gorgeous guy.
“Bad,” the stranger answers.
“Why bad?”
“Because people keep bugging me,” the man gives him an intense stare to back away.
Instead of backing away, Dean puts up two fingers to get the bartenders’ attention.
“So what’s your name?” Dean smirks.
“Castiel. Now leave me alone.”
As the bartender puts their drinks down in front of them, Dean raises his glass to Castiel, “To you.”
Exhaling an exhausted sigh, Castiel picks up his shot and downs it quickly without making a face unlike Dean.
“My name’s Dean Winchester.”
“Okay.”
“So uh, you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“You are the third person to say that tonight.”
“But I bet I’m the only one to stay beside you when you treated them like shit.”
Castiel lets his shoulders fall as he looks at a smirking Dean, “If I’m treating you like shit, why don’t you leave?”
“Maybe because I know this isn’t who you really are. If a little flirting doesn’t give me any attention, annoyance will.”
Cas looks away to hide his smile.
“I saw that smile; don’t try to hide, Cas.”
“Cas?”
“No one’s given you that nickname before? Dude, your name is a mouthful. Good thing I only have four letters in mine.”
As the bartender comes by, Cas lifts up two fingers, “Two shots please.”
Dean smiles wide at him, “I knew you were polite. When you wanna be. So what is a tax accountant doing in a fucked up dive bar like this? Broke up with someone? Got fired?”
“Just one of those days.”
“Yeah, I know how that is. Hey, you see that pool table over there?”
Cas looks at the direction where Dean is pointing, “of course.”
“I’ll make you a bet. If I could land six balls in one shot, I get your phone number.”
“And if you lose?”
“I’ll stop bothering you.”
As Cas grabs a pen from his trenchcoat pocket, he takes a napkin and writes down something. Folding it, he puts it in his pocket and extends his hand for Dean to shake, “Deal.”
Downing his drink, Dean slaps the counter as he basically jumps off the stool and jogs to the empty pool table.
“You’re in a happy mood when you’re going to lose.”
“Ooooh talkin’ shit, Cas? I kinda like that,” Dean says with a wink.
As Dean is setting up everything so carefully on the pool table, Cas orders a beer for each of them.
“Come on, Dean, you’re taking too long.”
“I’ve never heard that before,” Dean says showing a sliver of tongue between his teeth.
“You have a dirty mind.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
“Well..disagree. You get to know me better, you’ll know why it’s constantly dirty.”
Dean strokes his pool stick as he stares at Castiel with heat in his eyes. Cas blushes as he sips his beer.
“You’re so fuckin’ cute, Cas. Okay, I gotta chalk up my long stick, gimme a sec.”
As Dean bends down to set up his shot, Cas makes his way a little towards the back of Dean. When he stops moving, Dean wiggles his ass, “Get a good look yet?” he says as he looks behind himself.
“You’re a very attractive man, Dean.”
“Was that a flirt? Finally?”
“I suppose it was.”
“Dude, you gotta work on it more. I’ll help you if you want but only if you flirt with me.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Awesome.”
As Dean positions himself again, he tells Cas, “Okay so I’m gonna make all these balls, without a scratch.”
“So everything is going to go in except the white ball?”
“Yeah in one go.”
“Go for it.”
“Are you rooting for or against me?”
“I’ll let you know once you attempt your trick shot.”
Taking a gulp of beer, Dean takes a huge breath as he re-positions himself for the shot again.
“Ready?”
“Stop stalling, Dean. Do it.”
“Pushy.”
As Dean gets focused and serious, he finally hits the cue ball, knocking every single ball in the pockets, including the white ball. Standing up straight, he lets out a frustrated exhale. He slowly makes his way to Cas with a small pout on his face.
“Alright, I guess I’ll leave you alone.”
As he walks by Cas, Cas grabs his wrist, bringing him to face him, “Dean.” Cas reaches into his pocket and gives him his napkin, “The white ball never went in.”
Dean smiles as he takes the napkin and opens it.
I knew you weren’t going to make it but I love seeing you try hard for this
563-6682
“Wait. How did you know I wasn’t gonna make it?”
“Had a feeling”, Cas shrugs as he winks awkwardly at Dean, making Dean bust out laughing.
“Okay, next time, try winking with one eye open.”
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Kiss or Slap
Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind.
It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.
“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.
“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”
“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.
“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.
“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.
“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.
“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.
“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”
“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”
“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.
If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander.
He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.
“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.
“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.
“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”
“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.
Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.
“Just what?”
“Specific about what I want.”
Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun.
To be exact.
“Yeah. That’s picky.”
“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.
Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.
Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.
Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.
If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up.
Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked.
So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.
They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps.
“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.
“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek.
They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.
Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.
Sander’s very proud.
Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.
“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.
“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.
“I do not, shut up!”
Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.
It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.
He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.
Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.
“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.
“You’ve already won, but I guess?”
Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.
And he’s so fucking nervous.
It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him.
But that boy. That boy is something else.
He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.
Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.
That was the day Sander saw an angel.
Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway.
That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.
But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice.
Robbe.
Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.
Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.
Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.
Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.
Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.
He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.
Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.
“Hey guys, got a second?”
He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.
“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.
“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.
“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.
Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?”
“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.
“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.
So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.
“Sure, why not.”
Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”
Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-
“Slap.”
Wait, what.
He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?
Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.
“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”
Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.
But it never comes.
Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.
“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.
It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.
“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”
“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.
“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”
“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”
Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.
zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling
“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.
“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.
Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”
“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.
“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”
It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.
If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn.
Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button.
Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Sander.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.
“Will you go out with me?”
He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.
Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.
“Yes.”
#wtfock#my fics#i think i prefer writing sobbe in canon#i kinda struggle with the AU versions of them#😫
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Help her out - Jax Teller (smut)
This is my imagine for @rebelwrites challenge, I love you and you deserve the world. The prompt is written in bold. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Jax is set on helping his best friend out as she confesses a few things to him
Warnings: smut, 18+, oral (fem receives)
“Well there must have been a reason for you to stay with him, right?” Jax took another sip off his beer, lips switching between the bottle and his cigarette, gaze hooked onto her sitting frame, watching with curious eyes how she sunk down further into his sofa. He loved to tease his best friend, but something seemed off.
“No not really.” Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, not able to look at her best friend. “Could he at least satisfy you? You know, in the bedroom.” Jax didn’t notice how her teeth pierced through her lower lip, fingers fumbling with her sweater, repeating her “no not really.”
“What? Don’t tell me he didn’t get you off.” A laugh bubbled out of the biker, he had never liked her ex-boyfriend, hated him from the first moment he had met the man. Jax and (y/n) always had an interesting friendship, longing glances would be shared, hands aching to touch one another, though it was something they’d never confess out loud. Friends to lovers? How cliché.
“I never had an orgasm during sex.” (Y/n) visibly gulped, shamefully staring at her hands, missing the surprised expression that tugged on Jax’s features. “What do you mean you’ve never cum from sex?!” He placed his beer down, creeping closer to his best friend, hand softly grasping her chin, (y/e/c) eyes met his bright ones. “Stop making fun of me Jackson.”
It took him a few moments to reply, gaze falling down to her hands, eyebrows furrowed together, deep in thought. Wordlessly he pulled her onto her feet, down the hallway, to his room. “Jax? What are you doing? I swear to god, if this is one of your pranks-,” he shook his head, pointed towards his bed.
“Do you trust me?” His voice dropped lower with every passing moment, eyes burning through her. She swallowed, heart racing in excitement, pumping blood through her blushing cheeks. “Of course I do.” It was just above a whisper, wondering what he had in mind.
He stepped closer, lips meeting hers before she could pull away, kissing the woman he had always wanted to himself, the woman he had admired for years on end. A small gasp left her, lips perfectly moving in sync, arms slung around his neck, pressing herself closer. “Let me show you something.” Jax kissed her cheek, down to her jawline, hands toying with her shirt, ripping it off her body as she shot a nod his way, giving him the green light he had been waiting for.
Excitement flooded through her, shot tingles to her core, thighs pressed together, body fully giving into his touch, following his every command, every silent gesture. “Lay down.”
He almost growled the words, hands attached to her trousers, freeing her from the fabric, eyes hooked onto her body, length already rock hard and throbbing. God, he had jerked off to this thought numerous times before, imagining what she’d look like, spread out on his bed, body naked and ready for him.
“Jax.” (Y/n) breathed out his name, hands reaching for him, she needed to feel him, to explore the skin she’d always admire from afar. He pressed his lips against her inner thighs, nose nuzzled against her clothed heat, her panties were soaked through, arousal was sticking to her skin.
She needed more, desperate for everything he could offer. “You’re beautiful darling.” Jax tucked her panties down her legs, fingers brushing along her folds, exploring her soft skin. A moan rumbled through her, hands searching for his blonde hair, tugging on the roots, needing to find something she could hold onto.
“I got you. Relax for me.” His words had an instant effect on her, she began to spread her thighs, exposing more and more of her body to his hungry eyes, she was dripping, for him and him only. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying his soft touch, how carefully he circled her clit, testing the waters as he pumped one finger into her, walls adjusting, wrapped around him.
“More, Jax, please.” She could only moan a few words, not able to fully talk, body taken up by the pleasure he provided her with. Slowly he added another finger, thrusted them in and out of her, thumb attached to her clit, preparing her for what was yet to come, he didn’t want to rush things with her, wanted to do it properly.
The second he pressed his tongue against her clit she was done for, panting his name, giving into the orgasm that began to climb up her spine. “Cum for me darling.” He couldn’t rip his eyes off her features, wondering if he had ever seen something as beautiful as the face she made as her orgasm rocked through her. “Jax, I need you.” The blonde man pressed one last kiss to her skin, undressing himself, smirking at the way her eyes ran up and down his body, seemingly impressed by his physique.
He searched for a condom, rolled it down his length as he hovered above her, “You sure? I can stop anytime you want me to.” She rolled her eyes, tugged on his necklace, lips about to touch his, “Fuck me Jackson.”
Both moaned in unison, his length parted her walls, a pleasurable burn began to spread through her body, already high on the way he made her feel. He sucked on her throat, hips building up his speed, thumb rubbing her pulsing clit. Jax was set on making her cum, he’d move heaven and earth for her, anything to make her feel as good as possible.
His tip perfectly nudged her sweet spot, eyes fluttering close as she let the pleasure overtake her, guiding her towards another powerful orgasm, it wouldn’t take long for her to give in once again.
“Fuck, we should have done this much sooner.” He chuckled, hands fisting the fabric of his sheets, trying to stop himself from adding more pressure, he didn’t want to mark her up, at least not on their first time together. “Oh god Jax, don’t stop, don’t stop.” (Y/n) curled her toes, walls clenched around him, crying out his name, orgasm flooding through her.
A proud smirk tugged on his lips, following shortly after with a soft groan leaving him. “You okay?” He placed himself next to her, chests heavily rising and falling, eyes focused on one another. “You smug asshole”.
With a few giggles falling from her lips she placed herself on top of him, hands combing through his hair, tonight he’d give it another few tries, showing her all the things she had missed out on.
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If you’re still doing the prompts thing, could you do #20 (“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with...I’m in.”) with Buddie from 9-1-1 please? And if not, no worries. :)
Hey there, sorry this took so long. Sometimes my brain just doesn't want to cooperate...
Anyway, hope you enjoy (I changed the prompt a lil)
Also posted on AO3
“Here.” The beer appears in Buck’s peripheral vision, and he reaches for it, fingers slipping in the cool condensation that beads down the side of the bottle.
“Thanks man.” He takes a long sip and stares out into the backyard. “Oh, hey. How were parent teacher interviews yesterday?”
Eddie groans and drops heavily onto the porch swing, throwing his legs up on the railing beside Buck’s.
“They were fine,” he says, taking a long drink from his beer.
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound fine,” Buck says, twisting to face Eddie. “Is everything okay with Chris? Is there—"
“Christopher’s fine.” Eddie cuts Buck off before he can get too worked up. “He’s doing well in school, got lots of friends.”
“Oh.” Buck takes a sip of his own drink. “So, what’s the matter then?”
Eddie pulls his feet from the railing and plants them on the porch.
“He’s got this one teacher, and every time I see her, she’s got something to say about me being a single dad.” Eddie leans forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “Like I’m not good enough for him on my own.”
“You know that’s bullshit,” Buck says. “You’re a great dad.”
Eddie just waves him off.
“Anyway, she was going on about my job and how the long hours aren’t fair on Chris and how alone he is... anyway... Chris told her he’s not alone. He said he’s got me and Carla, Pepa and Abuela and... his Buck.”
“Of course, Eds, you know we’re all there for Chris.”
“I know but, I just—I don’t know why I said it.” Eddie leans back against the swing, staring out into the night.
“Said what?”
“I may have told her we were together...”
The half-mouthful of beer goes down the wrong hole and Buck chokes.
“What?” He wipes his sleeve against his mouth to catch the liquid that’s spilled down his chin.
“It just came out. She kept going on about the type of home environment I was providing, and I know I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but—Chris was so excited. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true—"
“Eddie, it’s fine.” Buck fidgets with the label on his bottle. He can’t quite bring himself to look at his best friend, afraid his face will give him away. It makes sense now why Chris was so happy to see him today, and perhaps why it had taken so long for Eddie to get him into bed. “You need to tell him though.”
“I know.” Eddie sighs and drains his beer. “I honestly didn’t think he’d be excited about the prospect of me dating again. We haven’t really talked about it.”
Buck isn’t excited about the idea of Eddie dating again, dating someone else. He keeps his mouth shut though and finishes his beer. The seeds of a very terrible, stupid plan start to take root in his brain.
“Hey, if uh,” the words stick in his throat. “If you need some time, to tell Chris, I don’t mind pretending for a day or two.” Buck’s heart is pounding so loud in his chest, he wonders if Eddie can hear it too. “Just until you do.”
Eddie laughs, tipping his head back against the seat.
“That is, without a doubt, the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with...” he says, still chuckling.
“Ha, yeah,” Buck plasters a grin on his face. “Pretty stupid.”
“You know what, I’m in,” Eddie says, regaining his composure. “Just for a day or so. I’ve got the rest of the parent teacher interviews tomorrow night and then I’ll sit Chris down and explain it was a misunderstanding.”
“What about the rest of the team?” Buck asks. “We’ve got a ten-hour shift tomorrow. What happens if they find out?”
“They won’t.” Eddie’s tone is warm and reassuring but Buck shakes his head.
“It just takes one,” he points out. “If Maddie finds out, she’ll tell Chim. And if Chim finds out—” he lets his head tip back with a groan, “—he’ll tell everyone.”
“Is it really that big of a deal?” Eddie asks him, planting his feet back on the porch and sitting up.
Yes, because if people find out that they’re ‘dating’ they’ll have questions and Buck can’t handle that kind of scrutiny, not when he’s already harbouring major feelings for his best friend.
“No,” he says instead. “I guess not. It’s just one day. What’s the worst that could happen?”
~
Buck pulls up at the station bright and early the next morning. He parks beside Eddie’s truck, a smile spreading across his face when he realises he has Chris with him.
“Bucky!” Chris's whole face lights up and he throws his arms around Buck.
“Hey bud.” Buck ruffles the kid’s hair and walks with them towards the firehouse. “What are you doing here?”
“Pepa’s running late,” Eddie explains. “She got caught up in traffic, so she’s going to pick Chris up from here. She shouldn’t be long,” he says, addressing Bobby this time.
“It’s not a problem. You hungry Chris?” Bobby asks, matching Chris’ pace as they head for the stairs. “I’ll see what I can rustle up for breakfast and you can tell me all about school.”
Chris nods along enthusiastically, following on behind Bobby.
“Hey Christopher.” Chimney leans over the balcony rail. “You got any fun stories for us kid?”
“Oh yeah!” Chris hands his dad one of his crutches so he can free up a hand to grip the stair rail. “Did you guys know Dad and Buck are dating?”
Every eye in the building turns to them.
The thing about the station is that it’s never truly quiet. There’s always some noise, some movement, no matter the time of day. But in that moment Buck could have heard a pin drop.
Hen is the first to break the silence.
“Alright, pay up.” She waves her fingers in Chim's face. “Better luck next time boys,” she crows, holding out her hands.
“I definitely heard you say November,” Chimney argues.
“I said, before November.” Hen grins. “It’s before November. Now pay up.”
“You couldn’t have waited just a few more weeks?” Chimney asks them. “Really, is that too much to ask?”
“What is happening right now?” Buck stares at his friends in disbelief. “Have you all been taking bets on us?”
Hen and Chimney share a look. “Uh, yes.”
They say it together, Hen bursting into laughter at the indignation on Buck’s face. “Oh please, you think you’re so hard to read? You wear your heart on your sleeve, Buckaroo. I read you.”
She counts the money she’s won, stuffing the notes into her pocket. “You boys just paid for my anniversary dinner. I can’t wait to tell Karen.” She pauses. “I don’t suppose you two also offer babysitting services?”
Buck bites his lip to hold back the panic clawing at his chest. His gaze flicks to Eddie, laughing and reassuring Chris that he’s not in trouble for spilling the beans. He’s acting like it’s nothing—like their whole team hasn’t been plotting behind their backs.
Eddie had promised that no one else would know, but that had gone down the drain in seconds. And now what? Do they keep up the lie or do they come clean? The idea of telling everyone that it’s not real is worse than knowing they’d been betting on him and Eddie getting together. Or do they already know that too? Maybe that’s the next bet and they’re all just waiting.
“I, uh—” Buck takes a half step back. “I’ll just be back in a minute.”
He doesn’t run for the stairs. He keeps his gait even until he’s at the bottom of the staircase and then he makes his escape to the bathrooms.
Buck spends the rest of the day avoiding the team. Well, avoiding them as much as he is able while still doing his job. While they’re at the station, he finds chores to keep himself busy, ignoring the looks he gets from Hen and Chim and ignoring the friendly teasing that he can’t take a joke.
Avoiding Eddie is the worst. Buck can’t bring himself to do it. He constantly finds himself gravitating back towards his best friend, drawn like a moth to a flame.
Buck keeps waiting for Eddie to pull him aside and ask why he’s not keeping his end of the bargain. Eddie keeps looking over at him, face pinched with an expression Buck can’t quite name. He’s probably pissed Buck couldn’t even keep it up for twenty-four hours, and now they’re both going to look like fools in front of the rest of the team.
~
“Thought I’d find you hiding in here.”
Buck glances up from the bunk to catch Bobby leaning in the doorway.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Good, because lunch is ready.” He goes to leave, then stops, rapping his knuckles against the door frame. “For what it’s worth Buck, we’re happy for you. Both of you.”
“Thanks Bobby.” Buck stands slowly, inhaling deeply. He can do this. He can pretend to be dating Eddie in front of his co-workers while also somehow pretending that he’s not wildly in love with his best friend. He’s got this, no problem.
Buck lets the breath go in a rush.
He’s so fucked.
Everyone’s eyes look up as Buck reaches the kitchen. He’s the last to sit and there’s just the one spare seat left beside Eddie.
As he settles into the chair, Eddie bumps their knees together under the table and offers Buck a reassuring smile.
“So,” Chim says reaching for the salad bowl. “I need details. When did this start?” He gestures between the two of them with the salad tongs before loading up his plate.
“Yeah, how long have you been keeping this from us?” Albert pipes up.
Buck swallows against the lump in his throat. They should have come up with something, just in case, but now they have nothing and—
“It was a few weeks after I got home from the hospital.”
Buck glances across at Eddie, brows knit together in confusion.
“I’d broken up with Ana and Buck was over a lot, helping with Chris,” Eddie explains, accepting a plate from Hen. “There was this one day. Buck had just got back after dropping Chris at school and we realised Chris had forgotten to take this book he’d wanted for show and tell.”
Buck can feel his frown deepening. He remembers this.
“Anyway, Buck wanted to go all the way back to Chris’ school to give it to him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Eddie’s looking at him now, holding Buck’s gaze as he recounts the story. The whole team is looking at them, the heat of their scrutiny makes Buck squirm in his seat. “I said it didn’t matter, Chris could just take it another day, but Buck said—"
“It matters to Chris.” Buck feels his face flush. At the time, Eddie had laughed and said something about Buck being too good for them before Buck had run out of the house clutching the book.
“It just kind of hit me, you know?” Eddie finally looks away, reaching for the bread rolls in the middle of the table. “Just how lucky I am to have him and how much he cares about us and… I kissed him.”
There’s a collective gasp from around the table and all eyes turn back on Buck.
“And what did you do, Buckaroo?” Hen asks, leaning forward in her seat.
“I uh—” Buck glances at Eddie, eyes wide. “I kissed him back?”
“Yeah, and it was about damn time,” Chimney shouts around a mouthful of pasta. “You guys are so cute. It’s disgusting.”
~
The rest of the shift is better after that. Everyone seems satisfied by their story and Buck lets himself fall back into his regular comfortable rhythm, hanging with Eddie between call outs. There is still some awkwardness to it, Buck can’t stop his mind from wandering back to that morning, imagining what it would have been like if it had gone more like Eddie’s story. He’s surprised Eddie even remembered it, it had been just another day between the regular doctor and physical therapy appointments that consumed his every waking minute.
He waits until later that night to say anything. Chris is in bed and they’re back on the porch nursing a beer each.
“Can I, uh, ask you a question?” Buck tears at the label on his bottle. “That thing you said at lunch, about how we got together…” He trails off, not quite sure how to verbalise the whirlwind of feelings it had stirred in him.
“Yeah, well I had to say something convincing,” Eddie says, taking a sip of his beer.
“Oh, right. Yeah.” Buck had spent the whole afternoon thinking that maybe, just maybe his feelings for Eddie weren’t as one-sided as he’d initially thought. This though, this is like a bucket of ice water to the face. “I don’t think I can do this, Eds.”
Eddie’s head jerks up.
“I thought I could pretend, but I can’t.”
“Why did you suggest it then?” Eddie doesn’t sound angry. Buck almost wishes he did, it would be easier if the were both yelling at each other. Anything would be better than the soft disappointment in Eddie’s tone.
“I thought—” Buck takes a breath and tries again. “I wasn’t thinking when I suggested it. I think there was just a part of me that thought that getting to pretend with you was better than nothing. It’s not though, it just made it that much more obvious how much I want this— want us.” Putting down his beer, Buck goes to stand. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna go—”
“Wait. Buck.” Eddie catches his arm. “I should have kissed you.”
“What?”
“Chris’ show and tell. I didn’t kiss you that day, but I wanted to. You were just out the door so damn fast.”
“You wanted to kiss me?”
Eddie pulls him back down onto the swing with a fond eyeroll. “We’re you not listening to my story at lunch?” he asks, voice teasing. “I meant what I said about how it just hit me. You’re amazing Buck, and Chris and I are both so lucky to have someone like you, someone who cares with everything you have. I think I’ve loved you for a while, but that morning I knew.”
“I love you too.” Buck knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but right now he doesn’t care. “I know you didn’t kiss me back then but… you can kiss me now.”
And Eddie does.
It starts off soft and slow—a tentative brushing of their lips, but then as neither of them back off it grows more desperate. Buck curls his fingers in the hem of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.
When he finally pulls away, they’re both red-faced and breathing hard.
“So, I guess this means we don’t need to break up,” Buck says with a laugh.
“No,” Eddie agrees. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time.”
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Mixing Rockstars with Liquor
This is based off the pic @squidbiscuit did yesterday of a burpy Piers nice and drunk. What can I say burpy bois hit my buttons. X3
Piers had just finished a killer set and had the crowd eating out from his hand. But this was after back-to-back shows which Piers could do no problem but it definitely took a toll. So after finally finishing for the weekend he returned to his place with one thing on the brain.
Alcohol.
The young rocker wasn’t hugely down with regular beer but hard liquor?
He could take that straight into his veins.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, I need somethin’ stiff that ain’t Raihan fer once,” Piers muttered. He marched up to his pantry and grabbed himself some Jaeger, Bacardi, vodka and good old fashioned rum. He didn’t care he just needed some alcohol in him stat after finally being finished with such an intense run of shows.
He set down all the alcohol onto the table along with a dozen shot glasses. There was enough alcohol to get an entire group of mates buzzed. But Piers was looking to ‘relax’ tonight.
First Piers poured a tall glass of vodka and chugged it. He didn’t need any cranberry juice or sweet and sour mix. Just toss in some ice to keep it nice and cool as the chilled liquids flowed down Piers’ thin throat. Piers got it all down in maybe ten seconds of hearty glugs then panted when he finished.
Since the ice was still cool Piers poured himself another glass of vodka and downed it in the exact same amount of time.
Piers poured out a dozen shots of rum then he started to down each shot one after the other like a drinking machine. He gasped heavily with each one. Rum didn’t burn the way tequila did but this was the kind of rum that took someone’s breath away. After getting about four shots straight down his gullet Piers grabbed the Bacardi.
He didn’t bother pouring it out into a glass. Like a true rockstar he pounded his drink straight from the glass bottle. Piers was chugging so hard that his Adam’s Apple was bobbling rather thickly with each rapid gulp he downed. This time it burned all right but it burned so good.
There was already enough alcohol in Piers’ stomach to knock anyone else out.
Piers gasped heavily when he slammed the bottle back down on the table and panted with his tongue hanging out. His throat was burning something fierce but he was already feeling way looser than he was mere minutes ago. He caught his breath eventually and patted his chest a few times. After the burn subsided Piers burped then smacked his lips contemplatively.
Straight Bacardi and so much of it could definitely use a chaser though. So Piers headed over to the kitchen again but had to stop midway.
“Bloody ‘ell...shouldn’t ‘ave drank so much on an empty stomach,” Piers admitted holding a fist to his mouth for a moment and eventually puffing a breathy exhale out.
Piers came back with a six-pack of soda cans specifically root beer because it was rich in flavor and he had a dry sense of humor.
After cracking it open Piers chugged a whole can of root beer down in thirty seconds flat never pausing to catch his breath.
He crushed the empty can and lazily dropped it down onto the table. Then Piers let out a huge burp.
BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPP!!!!
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Piers sighed and patted his stomach. It felt bloated already from all the alcohol he’d downed so fast. His already tight long sleeved shirt was looking even more snug around the middle which was now pressing out and bubbling by including all that carbonation into the mix.
He continued pouring himself more drinks and pounding them without any signs of lethargy.
Piers was a rockstar after all and being a rockstar meant holding your liquor like a champ.
The drinks just kept on vanishing down his gullet all with Piers looking more and more toasted the more alcohol he consumed. It took more to get him drunk than it ever would have taken Raihan and as a result of drinking so much liquids, Piers’ tummy continued growing more bloated the more alcohol he consumed.
Piers occasionally drowned some of the alcohol he chugged with some more root beer. It went down well after such hard liquors but it caused some really loud burps to bellow out of Piers. All that alcohol and soda was making him really gassy.
It didn’t matter though. Piers’ body was a temple that he always trashed every weekend anyway. So he just pounded his drinks without a care in the world until all the liquids on his table were left burbling in his now very swollen stomach.
Piers’ tummy was sticking out so much that it looked as if he’d eaten a whole watermelon. His shirt could just barely conceal his stomach anymore and his pants felt unbearably tight.
Eventually the glassy-eyed drunken rocker exhaled a breathy sigh. His breath was incredibly pungent with so much alcohol that it burned just coming out.
The table was littered with empty shot and vodka glasses, empty bottles and several crushed cans of soda.
Piers hovered over the table drunkenly slumping forward while his belly hung loose from how bloated it was. Then he brought a fist near his mouth and released a deep belch.
Hup-OOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRPP!!!!!
“Ffffuckin’ ‘ell~URP!!~Ungh, that’s so much better,” Piers sighed in a slurred manner while leaning against the table with one hand pressed against it.
He just stood there drunkenly while his bloated tummy gurgled deeply.
“Ungh, thought that was all of it,” Piers grumbled.
With a grimace he grabbed his belly with his free hand and burped loudly again. An even bigger one followed right after that.
BRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRUUP!!!!!
BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRAAAAAAAAHP!!!!!!!
“Ungh! Fuck...” Piers moaned patting his belly a few times and getting another burp out.
He huffed again and ran his hand across his face. With how red his cheeks were it was clear how absolutely toasted he was. Even Piers himself commented on it.
“I’m bloody smashed...thought it would’a taken at least another six shots t’get t’that point. Hope I ain’t losin’ a step...”
There was still a water bottle nearby so Piers grabbed that and chugged it in just over ten seconds even crinkling the bottle when he chugged it. When the last of the water was gulped down Piers let out a wet burp and staggered to his couch. He lazily and drunkenly flopped onto it which caused him to hiccup loudly from the sudden motion.
Piers almost looked like a ragdoll the way he slumped back on his couch with his limbs hanging so loose. But when he finally undid the button to his tight jeans there was this heavenly look of bliss on the drunken rocker’s face.
His pale tummy was free to expand without feeling restrained by his tight clothing. He even pulled his shirt up to expose his full liquor and soda filled belly.
Piers hummed contently to himself and lazily rubbed his belly with his hands running up and down its pale surface. It glorped and blorped noisily. All that hard alcohol was turning Piers’ stomach into noisy flesh sac full of chemicals burning away. Or at least it sounded like one.
The rocker groaned and looked down at his belly with a fond grin while his hands gingerly stroked it up and down.
“Mmmm no wonder Raihan can never keep his bloody hands away...”
Piers grimaced when a really deep bubbling erupted from his belly. He raised a fist up by his mouth and let loose a deep and really wet burp.
GAAaAaAaAaAaAaAuuuurrrrRUUUUUUUUULHP!!!!
Piers huffed and gave his belly a few pats until another belch followed.
"...Holy shit,” a voice called out.
Piers looked up and saw Raihan having just returned and now standing in the middle of the living room with his jaw gaped at the sight of Piers sprawled on the couch with his bloated belly hanging out.
The rocker grinned and summed his boyfriend with a single inviting finger.
“Boy is you in fer a treat, mate...”
#kink fic#belly kink#bloating#liquid bloat#beer chugging#beer belly#piers#piers x raihan#burping#alcohol#pokemon
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finding something to do + kim mingyu
you had spent your better years bored with mingyu, and he thought holding your hand felt like holding his fleeting youth.
wc.4088 | almost smut, mostly fluff, friends to lovers/uni au, fem reader, that one trope where there is mutual pining but both of them think the other is gay, maybe like half an ounce of angst if you squint Really Hard, lots o swears
i usually make my fics hella neutral as far as gender and size and orientation goes but hahahaha this ones for the average sized bi girls! also just realized that i stopped using capitalization in my fics and yk what? im fine with it. this fic is based off of the song of the same name by hellogoodbye.
*
“stop honking, other people live here.”
mingyu grinned at you through the half-open passenger window, leaning over to pop open the door. the handle had never recovered from a giant cup of soda crashing into the side of his ride in the middle of a particularly rowdy summer shenanigan, the sticky substance soaking into the mechanics before he had gotten the chance to hose it down in a friend's driveway at 2am. now, you had to wait for him to open it from the inside on all future shenanigans, and you could only roll the window down half way, lest you have to laugh at mingyu aggressively pulling on the window between his palms as you pulled on the motorized switch to coerce it back into the closed position. you slid into the co-pilot seat and looked over to your best friend.
"if you answered your texts i wouldn't have to honk."
you rolled your eyes, tugging on the seatbelt. "go, gyu."
he laughed and shifted into drive, turning up his stereo as he pulled away from your apartment building, hand returning to the stick to shift up a gear. "thanks for coming."
"what else was i gonna do?" you slipped the slides off your socked feet and pulled your legs to sit cross-legged. "i finished rewatching avatar."
"study, maybe?"
you looked at him. he was right, finals were right around the corner, but you had an uncharacteristically light load this quarter (due to you not realizing you needed approval for one course before registration and it filling before you could sign up) and you weren't too worried about the three tests you would have to take in a couple weeks. "could say the same to you."
mingyu let out another laugh, suddenly singing along to the song as he ran a hand through his hair. you smiled at his profile, then pulled out your phone to update your instagram story. as you moved the camera over to mingyu from the streetlight-lit road ahead of you, he laughed midway through a lyric and practically yelled "mwoya" at you, gripping the wheel with both hands and jumping in his seat.
you laughed hysterically, frantically saving the video before pointing the screen at him. he turned down the music to watch it, eyes flickering between your phone and the road. he laughed at the way it cut off on both of you screaming. "what was that?"
you giggled, swiping through filters. "you being dumb."
"you love me."
"you're right."
mingyu smiled at that, adjusting the stereo volume again, bobbing his head to the rhythm as he drove to the one convenience store in your town that sold his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream, a mission he had called upon you for at 11:30pm. when it switched over to a song you knew, mingyu noticed your subconscious humming to the tune and a few lyrics falling out of your lips, the wind from the open window whipping through your hair.
by the time you reached a small parking lot across town, you had yawned probably half a dozen times.
"tired?" mingyu pouted as he rolled up the windows and unbuckled his seatbelt. "sorry for dragging you out."
you shook your head, following suit and pulling yourself out of the car. "i slept too late, i think. i'll be fine."
you followed mingyu across the quiet street to the convenience store the two of you frequented perhaps too often, finding yourself there after late night study sessions or mid-barhop for ramen, snacks, and most importantly, the mint choco ice cream bar of mingyu's affections.
after perusing the options as if you hadn't been there earlier in the week, you picked out an ice cream bar as well as a couple bags of chips. you walked up behind mingyu at the register as he was pulling out his wallet.
"i'll pay if you come over and play smash," he said, nodding at your hands full of snacks.
you eyed him. "what's the catch?"
"you can't be mad when i play meta knight."
you groaned, but put your things on the counter for the cashier that was likely the same age as you both to scan. "fine. i'll still beat you."
mingyu grinned at you, and you snagged your ice cream bar off the counter as he paid, the other snacks getting put in a plastic bag. you grabbed the bag and held it open as mingyu retrieved his own ice cream, both of you peeling them open as you exited the convenience store.
"mm," you let out, mouth full of ice cream as you leaned against the metal bar meant to lock up bikes on the sidewalk. "it's nice out tonight."
mingyu agreed, biting into his treat. "it's refreshing but not too cold."
you nodded, watching cars pass on the street. "i can't believe it's almost summer already."
"me neither," he said, squatting in front of you as he ate. "we're gonna be seniors next year."
you groaned. "have you decided if you're doing summer quarter?"
he shook his head. "i decided against it. i only really have to take one extra course next year so it didn't feel worth it."
you nodded, looking down at him. he was looking to his left, absentmindedly watching someone walk their dog across the street.
after the ice cream was finished and you threw away your wrappers, mingyu cursed slightly at the fact that he still managed to get his finger sticky despite doing his best to avoid meltage. after he popped open your door, he dug in the glovebox for some wet naps, playfully knocking your knees aside as you tried to sit. you laughed, waiting for him to be done so you could put the bag of snacks on the floor in front of you.
when you met mingyu sophomore year, your hair was shorter and he was blonde. he had sat next to you in your shared ecology lab and promptly fell asleep before the class had even started, and you had to nudge him awake when the professor was handing out the syllabus.
"gah, fuck, i'm up," he waved a massive hand in your face, blinking away his sleep before focusing on you with furrowed brows. "you're not seokmin."
seokmin was his roommate, you learned, and also met a few weeks later when you went over to their dorm to work on assignments together. they've since upgraded to a compact but efficient three bedroom apartment and acquired another roommate. you stared out the window into the night sky as mingyu drove to said apartment, blinking heavily at the lure of a nap. you pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to listen to the song playing from the stereo.
only moments later, mingyu glanced over and noticed that your eyes had fluttered shut, your head lolling against the window. he wondered, staring at you in awe, how much longer he could pretend he wasn't in love with you.
when you and mingyu had first gotten to know each other, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, until you found out he had a boyfriend. even after they split almost four months later, and you had been there to bring him chicken and beer while he fumbled with the drawstrings of his sweatpants and rubbed his swollen eyes with the back of his hand, you decidedly resigned any feelings for him, knowing it was a lost cause for you to pine after a guy that didn't even like girls. hell, you barely even liked boys - you had gone on dates with six different girls, yet not a single guy since you came to university, and mingyu had sat on your bed while you tried to get ready, giving a concise "try again" when you showed him an oversized sweatshirt.
"why not this?" you asked, groaning.
"you have good proportions, bitch. show 'em off."
rolling your eyes, you rooted around in your closet for something less shapeless. your style had always skewed a little athletic, a little hip-hop. you bought mostly mens fit shirts, making the task slightly more difficult. you found a nice pair of high waisted jeans you hadn't worn in a while and paired it with a drop shoulder tee and a turtleneck, finally getting the approval of your best friend.
all of the facts laid in front of him led mingyu to believe you were completely and utterly gay, and even if you weren't, your taste in women suggested he was the exact opposite of your type. you liked petite girls. girls with long hair and that wore skirts and lots of rings. the kind of girls that you had to lean down to kiss.
so he continued to try out the pool of eligible bachelors in your area that were within a respectable age range. he had even tried to date some girls, but every time they tried to suggest the dates go further, he would think of the way his best friend's fingers had sent electricity through his entire body just by brushing an eyelash off his lip, or how you would trace the veins that ran through his wrist as you watched a movie together on your couch. the way your touch set his skin on fire. the way he wished he could just admit the way he felt about you.
he always smiled and said he'd call them sometime. he never did. it wasn't fair to them, but neither was him only ever asking them out because they reminded him of you somehow.
guys were easier, he thought. they didn't remind him of you.
mingyu was so caught up in the sight of you sleeping that he absolutely ran a red. he cursed under his breath when he realized the light he was passing under had been yellow for longer than he had thought, thinking how lucky he was that the cross street was empty. good thing he was almost home.
"hey, sleepyhead," he said when you stretched suddenly as he pulled into his parking spot. "do you wanna go home?"
you shook your head, yawning. "no, i need to eat chips."
he laughed and killed the engine. "you left a pair of house shorts here and you can borrow a shirt," he said, suggesting you crash in his bed when you got too tired for smash.
"what, you don't wanna carry me home?"
mingyu slammed the car door shut and shoved his hand in his pocket. "i'd rather not, no."
you stretched again, a hand reaching out to ruffle his dark hair as he tried to punch in the door code for you to enter his building. "mean."
he laughed at you again, leading you up the three flights of stairs to his apartment.
"hey, minghao," you said, waving at the shadowy figure that was seemingly melting into the couch, illuminated by the tv.
he raised a hand in acknowledgment, sitting with his neck at a 90 degree angle, a movie with subtitles on, and his phone face down on his chest. "yo."
"wanna play smash?" mingyu asked.
"no thanks."
mingyu dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. "we're playing smash."
"you're funny."
you laughed, and mingyu pouted. "please, myungho?"
minghao finally looked at his roommate. "i'm watching annihilation. the switch is handheld for a reason."
you watched mingyu roll his eyes with a smirk on your lips. he went over to the switch dock by the tv and grabbed the console, sticking his tongue out at hao. you giggled, following mingyu down the short hall to his room as minghao waved you both off.
"have i said that i like hao a lot?"
"yes," mingyu said. "like, every time you come over."
you smiled, throwing open his dresser and carding through the shirts that would surely be massive on you. "well i do."
the switch got tossed onto his bed and he sneaked around you to grab a pair of sweatpants from the drawer above the one you were looking in. he also pulled out the pair of shorts you had left, putting them on top of the dresser. "i'm getting naked now."
you shook your head lightly, knowing he was only changing his pants, but kept your back to him out of respect anyways. you picked up the shorts. "did you wash these?"
"yeah, i threw 'em in with my laundry last week."
you nodded, spotting the color you had been looking for. "aha!" you pulled on the ashy gray shirt, revealing one of your favorite things you had ever convinced mingyu to buy. an extremely soft, lightly distressed shirt with a tasteful rip along the neckline. "i'm getting naked now."
"clear," mingyu said, letting you know he wasn't looking as he flopped onto his bed, propping up the switch on his bedside table and setting up the controllers.
you pulled off your loose sweatshirt and swapped it for the borrowed shirt, then shoved the denim shorts down your legs, laughing lightly at how your sleep shorts completely disappeared under the shirt. you turned around, stretching out your arms to show how large the shirt was on you. "look."
mingyu rolled onto his back and propped himself on an elbow to look at you, giggling as you swam in his shirt. outwardly, he smiled, but internally, he thought this was simultaneously the worst and best idea he had ever had.
you looked absolutely stunning in his clothes, he thought, but only said that you were cute. he ignored the familiar feeling in his stomach and handed you a controller as you crawled onto his bed, settling on your stomach next to him.
he had to stop putting himself in this position. you were far too pretty for him to forget his feelings towards you.
but maybe that's what he wanted. maybe he didn't want to forget his feelings. maybe the few times you had told him his dates were attractive weren't just objective reassurances. maybe he held onto the sliver of hope that you could possibly be attracted to him, too.
you slammed your face into the bed as the game loaded. "why are all switch load times utter ass?"
mingyu adjusted so that he was laying on his side with an arm propping him up and flicked the back of your head. "because the console can fit in my palm."
your hand went up to swat at the culprit of the flick, and you pouted as you lifted your head to look at him. "that's not fair, your hands are huge." you wiggled onto your elbows to grab his wrist, pressing your palms together. "see?"
mingyu laughed, feeling his cheeks heat up. "well, you have baby hands, so." he punctuated his point by curling his finger over yours. you pouted again, then slipped your fingers between his, thinking about how nice his warm hand felt over yours.
you blinked, then pulled your hand away and grabbed the joycon as the game finally loaded the skippable intro, hoping you weren't blushing too much as you cleared your throat. mingyu stared at your pink cheeks for a moment, his mind reeling. was he seeing something that wasn't there? or was his hope in you validated?
you were clicking through the menu and felt his eyes on you, and all you wanted to do was hide behind your hair and avoid eye contact. you nearly jumped when mingyu cleared his throat.
"hey, i have something i've been meaning to ask you."
your eyes met his briefly. "shoot."
"do you…" mingyu paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase his question. "i know you have exes that are guys, but is that something you're, like… still into?"
your ears burned and you wiggled until you could sit back on your own legs, fiddling with the hem of the shirt you stole and hesitating to make eye contact. "you mean, being with guys?"
"yeah," he said, watching you intently with his brows furrowed.
"yeah, i mean, i guess?" you shrugged. "i like both."
mingyu nodded slowly, watching your eyes as they stared at the wall across his small room. your cheeks were a rosy pink, and you were chewing on your lip. "me too."
you looked at him finally, your eyes wide. "what?"
he gave you a crooked smile. "i like guys and girls, too."
if you were blushing before, now you were blazing. "oh, my god, i'm an idiot."
he laughed. "what, did you think i was, like, totally gay?"
"shut up," you threw yourself down onto his bed, hiding your face in the blanket. in your defense, he had definitely called himself gay before, but you definitely called yourself gay constantly, so maybe you shouldn't put so much weight in those words. "shut up, i'm embarrassed. i don't want to talk about it."
hearing mingyu laugh next to you made you feel like you were on fire, then you felt the ghosting of fingers on your arm. you froze. mingyu's voice was soft when he spoke again. "do you wanna talk about how i have a massive crush on you?"
you slowly raised your head to look at him, cheeks burning red. he gave you a small smile before you choked out a "huh?"
"i ran a red earlier," he said suddenly, his fingers moving from your arm to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face, then to your shoulder, then back. it was a reassuring touch, one you had felt from him before, but you still were caught off guard by his sudden succession of confessions. "you were sleeping and i couldn't stop looking at you. i totally could have crashed the car."
"dude, what the fuck." you stared at him, then lowered your voice to imitate him. "'hey i have a crush on you and i almost killed us both because of it.' that's you, that's what you sound like right now."
mingyu laughed in your face and you couldn't help the chuckle that fell out of your mouth. "sorry i almost killed us."
"i guess i can forgive you," you said, picking at your nails suddenly despite them being clean. "especially because i might have a crush on you, too."
mingyu kept staring at you with a fond smile, and you wondered if he could also hear how hard your heart was beating. "can i kiss you?"
you looked at him, trying not to stare at his lips. you nodded, almost hurriedly. his hand pulled against your back as you rolled your body to face him, and your hand reached out for his jaw as he pulled you into him. and when his lips crashed into yours, you yelped slightly, melting into him almost immediately. they were plush against yours, and he was gentle as he pushed your back onto the mattress, adjusting to hover over you slightly. when you let your head fall back onto the bed, he grinned at your blown out pupils and swollen lips, buzzing at the way your hands curled around around his neck, fingers digging into the hair at his nape. he adjusted again, a hand finding your waist as he pulled back to let you swing your leg across his lap. you pulled him back over you, enjoying the way his hips hit the back of your thighs as he caged you in with an elbow by your shoulder. you stared up at him, heart racing, eyes flicking down to his lips too many times for him to not take the hint.
mingyu had always enjoyed pleasing you. this definitely felt like the next natural progression.
he dove into you, and your arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. mingyu was a hugger, and he also liked wearing very little clothing when he worked out, so you knew what he looked like under the plain white tee. knew what he felt like. but suddenly - with his hands slipping under what was technically his shirt to properly feel your waist, with how his tongue fought with yours - you really felt him for the first time. the way his shoulder muscles rippled just beneath the skin as he adjusted, clearly trying to not make his growing bulge so obvious. you considered the fact that you might get to see how much leg day really benefited, considering how much he posted about it with sweaty post-workout pictures on his story.
mingyu felt your thighs squeeze around his hips, pulling back slightly. "is this okay?"
"is it?" you responded, a hand pulling back to fall on his jaw. "i've wanted you for ages."
he laughed lightly. "god, we're idiots."
you had no time to respond before he was kissing you again, his hips rolling into yours, pulling a surprised moan from you. he ate it up, his fingers gripping your waist tighter at the sound. you felt his girth as it pressed against you, and you gasped. when was the last time you had been with a guy? high school?
when mingyu's teeth bit down on your lip, you were really glad he was the guy you were unconsciously waiting for.
he tugged on your hips as he rolled onto his back, pulling you to straddle his lap. you giggled slightly, settling back into the open mouthed kisses as he ran his hands from your ass up your back, slipping under the sports bra you were wearing.
then there was a knock. you yelped, burying your face in his shoulder as you heard the door swing open. "make room for king k r- oh shit!"
you laughed into mingyu's neck as he yelled for seokmin to get the hell out, his hands tugging the hem of the stolen shirt over your butt in an attempt to shield it from view. you heard him squeak out an "i'm sorry!" as the door shut again.
"i'll kill him."
you exhaled, the laughter still on your lips as you looked at his profile from where your cheek pressed against his shoulder. "bet he thinks we're secretly dating."
mingyu laughed, scratching an eyebrow before returning his palm to your ass. "not a secret now."
"oh, so we're dating now?"
mingyu craned his neck to look at you. "is that not what was going to happen?"
you giggled, sitting up and putting your hands on his chest. you adjusted your knees, fully aware of how the movement would rub you against his still hard bulge. "we have both fucked people without dating them afterwards, kim mingyu."
"ah," he said, digging his fingers into your soft ass and rutting into you gently, making you gasp. "we're gonna fuck? i thought we were just joking."
you slapped his chest, giggling still as you rolled your hips. "if you don't wanna, i could ask hao-"
"oh, shut up," he said, pulling you down to kiss him. "if you liked myungho like that you would have tried it ages ago."
you smiled, your thumb running over his adams apple as you placed gentle kisses on his jaw. "sweetie, are we jealous?"
"i don't deserve this, you know?" mingyu pulled your hips against him again, a low grunt tumbling from his beautiful mouth. "i haven't put my dick in a girl since i met you and now i'm with you and you're talking about my roommate? this seems extremely mean."
you giggled again, then placed your lips on his again. he instantly kissed you back, one hand leaving your ass to go to the back of your neck. "you're the only guy i ever think about," you whispered, getting repeatedly interrupted by mingyu's needy lips on yours.
the wolf-like grin that broke onto his face sent chills down your spine. "let's keep it that way."
*
seokmin's hand was still on the doorknob, his wide eyes blinking, when minghao paused his movie and sat up to poke his head out and look down the hall. "the hell was that?"
he puffed out his cheeks as he walked back into the living room, his palms clapping gently. "i thought you said y/n came over to play smash?"
minghao's eyebrow quirked up. "she did."
the eldest sat on the couch. "i thought mingyu was gay?"
"what?" minghao looked down the hall again. "wait, what? were they-" he stopped when he heard a muffled groan that was far too familiar.
seokmin grabbed the remote and pressed play, scratching his cheek as he turned up the volume. "what are we watching? catch me up."
#97 line is back#aka my favorite friendship dynamic i love them#honestly all the age groupings in svt are so good i love all of them a ton#honestly any grouping in svt is. one of my faves#like all of them#why are they perfect for each other this is so sickening#ok lets do real tags now#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#seventeen fluff#kim mingyu imagines#kim mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu smut#mingyu fluff#i love he a lot#puppy#i wrote dis
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for the meet ugly asks, 18 with the ot4? nsfw, if possible? thanks
Here you go! It is indeed NSFW.
18: we were just introduced at a party by our mutual friend and when my partner comes to join us, you freak out because you were just outside making out with them and you pull me aside to tell me
“Duck! Over here!” Aubrey waves him through the crowd, pointing to the lumberjack lookalike next to her, “this is the guy I was telling you about. Barclay’s an old friend of Dani's and, get this, he and Indrid know each other too. Wait, where is mr. mothman?” Aubrey cranes her neck.
“He had to work a late shift, but he says hi. Literally” He fumbles his phone, “fuck, sorry, first thing to go when I’ve been drinkin is my coordination.” He eventually triumphs, showing them the photo of Indrid, silver hair tied back and Void the Rat perched on the sleeve of his ‘Waffle House’ shirt. The sticker on the photo says “Hi!”
“Aww” Barclay’s voice is the epitome of gentle giant, “he always wanted a rat. I’m glad he got one.”
“Whelp, now that I got you two talking, I’m gonna go spend some ‘quality time’ with my girlfriend.”
“Just don't get caught makin’ out in a closet again.” Duck calls. Aubrey flips him off with a smile.
“So how did you and Indrid--oh, there you are babe. Thought you mighta snuck out to take a work call.”
“No, just had to de-escalate a shoving match on the back porch. I know you love Jake, but maybe next time we should just have him over rather than coming to the kind of party we outgrew in undergrad. I’m discovering I don’t enjoy being under the influence in this kind of cramped party anymore."
“Yeah, not really loving the noise. I lose my voice enough in the kitchen. Duck, this is my boyfriend, Joseph. Joseph, this is Duck, he’s a friend of Dani and Aubrey’s.”
Duck crunches his cup as his mind takes a violent spin an hour into the past.
He’d been out on the side deck getting some air and sipping his beer when a guy who looks like he walked in from the set of some splashy T.V show where everyone is hot joined him. His lips looked damn good whenever he sipped his beer and Duck did his best to turn on the southern charm. It was sort of working, until he complimented the guys button up; it was covered in drawings of cryptids--including mothman, Indrid’s favorite--and fit him in the way that made Duck want to rip the buttons off with his teeth. As soon as he demonstrated his enjoyment of listening to a hot guy talk about monsters, the taller man moved gradually closer, bumping shoulders and locking eyes with growing boldness. When Duck said the song booming out of the house was his go-to for putting the moves on someone, the other man asked to see his technique.
They spent the next three songs in the darkest corner of the porch, Duck’s back pressing into metal slats as his new friend wove his fingers into his hair and teased their tongues together with an experts touch.
When Duck breathlessly asked if he wanted to go somewhere more private, he murmured, “Only after we’ve had a chance to talk about some things.”
Then his phone buzzed and he was gone, leaving Duck horny and tipsy under the stars.
Back in the present, he does everything possible to keep from meeting Joseph’s eyes as he mumbles, “I, uh, I, I need some help with somethin in the kitchen? Fuck, yeah, kitchen, Barclay can you come help?”
“Sure. Be right back, babe.”
The kitchen is packed with people doing ill-advised things with drinks, so Duck keeps Barclay in the hall as he whispers, “Man, I, I’m so fuckin sorry but I gotta say somethin’. Joe and I, we, uh, we already met.”
“Makes sense, he’s been in town a year. I just got here.”
“That ain’t the kind of meetin I mean. We got a little, uh, friendly on the porch tonight.”
Barclay gives an “ah” of understanding. Then he chuckles, “thought he looked a little ruffled when he passed me earlier.”
“I’m real fuckin sorry, I didn’t know. ‘Drid and I got an, an agreement, but I shoulda checked to see if he was datin someone.”
“That would have been smart.” Joe appears at Barclay’s shoulder, “but that’s why I said we needed to talk before we did anything else.” He strokes Barclay’s beard, “you and Indrid aren’t the only ones with an open relationship of sorts.”
“Ohthankfuck.” Duck slumps against the wall.
“While I was making sure no one made a punch that could give them alcohol poisoning, you were getting hot and heavy? That’s not fair, babe.” Barclay teases.
“I’ll make it up to you, big guy. Are you safe to drive?”
“Gonna give it another half-hour, just to be safe. You need a ride home, Duck?”
“Uh, sure, that’d be great.”
Soon, he’s bundled in the back of a Subaru, Joe sitting beside him while Barclay navigates through Saturday night traffic. They luck out; the game ran long, so they’re not fighting the throng coming out of the football stadium. When they reach his apartment, Joe stops him and hands Duck his phone. Duck didn’t even feel him take it in the first place. As he waves goodnight, he spots a new number sitting in his contacts and smiles.
----------------------------------------------------------
“...the point is, it amuses me that Joseph shares my taste in me.” Indrid sips his white chocolate mocha, then yawns wide enough for Barclay to spot his tongue piercing, “apologies, I didn’t get to bed until three.”
“Jesus, man, gonna tell Duck to start knocking you out.”
“I was working on commissions.”
Barclay gives him a disbelieving look.
“....I was working on commissions until midnight. Then I spent three hours watching videos on the finer points of home entomology.”
“There it is. You can’t fool me, I remember what you were like at sleepovers.”
“It was very important to read every single Eyewitness book your parents generously bought you.” Indrid takes another sip with an imperious tilt of his head.
Barclay bumps his unoccupied hand, “It’s so fucking nice to see you again.”
Indrid looks at him over his glasses, brown eyes as beautiful as they were when he was sixteen, “Likewise. Oh!” He perks up, “do you know what this means? We can have a double-date! I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“Sure Joseph will be into it; he has a spreadsheet of optimal date locations. Bet he’ll have fun making one for double-dates.”
“That is...exceptionally geeky.”
Barclay sends a love-struck smile into his coffee cup, “Yeah, he is.”
-----------------------------------------------
Joe is more diabolical than Duck gave him credit for. And he thought he was pretty fucking cunning after he suggest seeing the local hockey team; the chilly arena gave Indrid and excuse to cuddle up to anyone who held still for too long and gave Joe plenty of opportunities to make double entendres about sticks in Duck’s ear.
But a night out at “Woofs” AKA the kind of gay bar where Duck and Barclay get hit on constantly is a whole new level of torment. Especially because Indrid hangs off Duck proudly (when he’s not teasing Barclay for the number of free drinks he’s getting) and Joseph even asks him to dance. When he peeks over the taller man’s shoulder, he sees Barclay resting his hand on Indrid’s arm while whispering something that makes him grin.
Dancing really is the most fitting thing he could be doing, because it’s what all four of them have chosen to do about this; dance around the fact that Indrid and Barclay dated, dance around the fact Joe and Duck kissed, danced around the fact that they’re more or less acting like a polycule already.
“Oh no.” Joe mutters, eyes on the door, “things are about to get loud.”
Duck’s about to point out that the club is already loud when he’s pulled out of the path of not one, but two bachelorette parties. They opt to stay, although Barclay gets hit on by someone who doesn’t believe he’s gay. Joe takes him onto the floor for a slow dance while Duck steps into the bathroom. When he comes out, his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.
“You guys seen ‘Drid?”
Joe shakes his head, all three of them already moving for the door. They find Indrid across the street on a bench, hunched over and tapping on his knees.
“‘Drid?” Duck sits gently beside him, “you get overwhelmed?”
Indrid nods.
“You wanna head home?”
Another nod. Duck suspects the overstimulation spiked without warning, which usually means…
“You need to be nonverbal for a bit?”
This time Indrid looks at him when he nods, then cringes when he sees Joe and Barclay are watching.
“Our place is closer.” Joe offers, copying Duck’s tone, “we can all bus back there so you can be somewhere quiet. Or, um, if you need it to just be you two, that’s fine too.”
Indrid holds up a finger, indicating option one. Duck helps him up and let’s him stay hidden against his shoulder while they wait for the bus.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
This used to terrify Barclay. He and Indrid would be hanging out, would be stealthily holding hands in the top row of the football stadium, and his boyfriend would shut down. Barclay, sensing distress, would try to figure out what was wrong, would start to panic when Indrid couldn’t communicate the things happening in his mind and body. They had more than one fight where his attempts to help only made Indrid more overstimulated to the point he snapped at him to fuck off (and, on one occasion, hissed at him).
They worked it out eventually, Barclay keeping a mental list of things that soothed his friend. Watching Duck do some of them, how calm and loving he was, makes something complex bloom in his chest, as vibrant and beautiful as the Dahlias Duck brought them from the garden (“weather’s been so fuckin weird things are bloomin when they shouldn’t”).
When they make it home, Duck stops in the living room and looks between Indrid and Barclay for a moment. Then he murmurs, “‘Drid, you want Barclay to keep you company for a bit?”
Indrid smiles and nods, takes Barclay’s hand and follows him to the bedroom. He lets his memories drive, keeps the light off, arranges his body so Indrid can relax against him, and pets his hair with slow, light motions. His friend hums, meaning he’s on the right track. As he strokes his head he notices the black roots peeking through the silver; it was jarring to see Indrid with pale hair when all his memories were of dark locks of it falling over his face or catching on Barclays hands.
He looks good with the silver. More like himself.
Metal pokes his chest. He takes the glasses Indrid hands him, sets them on Joseph’s stack of library books, then gives a startled, “nnfph” as his friend pulls Barclay on top of him.
“Like the weight” Indrid mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. The longer they lay there, the easier it is to overhear the conversation in the other room.
“I feel awful, if I’d known I’d have never recommended we go somewhere like a loud bar.”
“S’okay, Joe. ‘Drid is still a little wary of tellin people that’s something he has to consider when goin’ out; Dani and them get it, but other folks think he’s bein’ a buzzkill.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re tellin me. Besides, sometimes it comes up so fast, or happens in places he ain’t anticipatin it. He’ll be okay, especially with Barclay takin’ care of him.”
A pause, then, “Do you need someone to, um, take care of you?”
“Joe-”
“It’s alright if the answer is no. But part of my plan was to get everyone in a, um, bit of a frisky mood.”
A snicker, “Frisky?”
“I was trying not to be too crude.”
“Joe, you know how I feel about you. But we gotta check with the others to be sure everythin is on the level.”
“Tell them to come in.” Indrid whispers, a smile plain in his voice.
“Uh, babe? Could you and Duck come in here a sec?”
“Everythin oka--ffft” Duck snorts a laugh, “guess he improvised not havin a weighted blanket.”
“That I did.”
Duck bursts into a grin, hurrying to settle on the bed near Indrid’s head, “Hey, sugar. How you feelin’?”
“Much better. It helps that this one is very soothing.” He toys with Barclay’s hair, sending goosebumps up his arms, “though it seems he had a slighty different reaction to our contact.”
Barclay was so distracted by the conversation that he hadn’t realized his cock was hardening along the familiar warmth of Indrid’s thigh whenever one of them shifted.
“Fuck, Indrid, I’m sorry-”
“It’s alright. In fact, it is rather relevant to what you two were discussing in the hall. Am I correct that we all wish to be in some form of polyamorous relationship with each other?”
“Yes” say two voices along with his own.
“Wonderful. I suggest we hash out details later. Right now, it seems you two have, ah, unfinished business.”
“Fuckin finallyAH” Duck cackles as Joseph knocks him backwards, kissing him frantically while yanking up his shirt. As soon as his belly is exposed Joseph begins pawing and groping from there up his sides. Indrid nudges Barclay so they can sit up, allowing the other two more room to disrobe. Or, more accurately, for Joseph to disrobe both himself and Duck, since the shorter man is having trouble moving his limbs between bursts of laughter and moaning.
Joseph crawls backwards, shoving Duck’s legs apart and groping his thighs, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these since the party. Lord almighty did you look good in those jeans.” He kisses his way up the left thigh, moaning and mouthing at the skin. His posture puts his perfect ass in the air, which happens to be one of Barclay’s favorite views in the whole world. He unzips his pants, fights to get his cock out as Indrid begins offering commentary from beside him.
“Mmmm, were I not still rather exhausted, I’d make him do that to us both.”
Joseph raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move his mouth from where it’s teasing Duck’s inner thigh.
“Know you would.” He reaches down to play with Joseph’s hair, “‘Drid’s got a whole fantasy where you blow him while I sit on his face.”
“Funny” Barclay’s voice is turning rough with desire,“he’s got one where he takes all three of us at once.”
Joseph’s face lacks any trace of self-consciousness, a rare thing for him, which means this whole arrangement is fucking brilliant. He simply nods, then takes Duck’s dick into his mouth.
“JEsus, fuck, Joe, ohfuckyeah.” Duck holds Joseph’s head encouragingly, “shoulda known you’d be good at this, you’re so fuckin good at everythin, fuck, fuck.”
Barclay grips his cock, trying to stroke in time with movements of Joseph’s head. Slender fingers carefully push his aside as Indrid purrs, “allow me.”
“You, you don’t have to, you said you were tired-”
“Not too tired for this” he strokes up more firmly, then brushes their lips together, “or this.”
It’s like tasting Hershey Chocolate or Marionberry Pie, transporting him back to their shitty hometown in Eastern Oregon, to summer heat on his skin and basement air in his nose as Indrid proved that yes, kissing boys was what he wanted to do.
Indrid’s certainly gotten better at it since then. Barclay likes to think he has, hopes the other man is feeling even half the things currently piling up in Barclay’s chest.
“Oh.” Indrid sighs as he pulls back, “that’s even better than I remember.”
A particularly loud moan from Joseph, underscored by Duck cursing happily, brings them back to the present.
Barclay moans as Indrid’s hand moves more deliberately.
“Do you remember the first time we did this?”
“Uh huh, c-couch, in that, fuck, that basement rec room at my house.”
“You came so fast.”
“Can’t really blame me.”
“Given the sounds he’s making, he might do the same thing now.” Joseph smiles at them from over Duck’s knee, “that’s one of the best things about you. You’re so sensitive, big guy.”
Barclay whines his name. His boyfriend winks, then dives back down to render Duck speechless.
“You really are” Indrid nips his ear, “remember when we, ah, lost it to each other?”
“Mmmhmm” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as if that might make all this last longer. Joseph echoes the noise, making Duck groan.
“Just picture it, Joseph” Indrid is getting into it now, panting and pink-cheeked, “Barclay, eighteen and even shyer than he is now, in my lap, begging me to fuck him.”
‘I, I wasn’t the only one begging.” He grins.
“Of course not. I was desperate to get to it because just seeing you naked had me certain I was going to--one moment” he releases Barclay’s cock, ignoring his whimper to clamber into a position that allows him to kiss Duck as the shorter man grinds into Joseph’s mouth. He doesn’t pull back until Duck’s hips slow and Joseph is busy wiping his lips.
“I can never resist kissing you while you cum.”
“Fuck I love you.” Duck cups Indrid’s cheek. The silver haired man rubs against his palm a moment, then retreats. Duck growls at Joseph, “as for you, you got ten seconds to open your legs so I can show you a good time.”
“So thoughtful” Indrid pecks his cheek, returns to Barclay, “now, where was I…”
“Shy, AHshit, fuckingchristthat’s good.” Joseph’s legs sprawl open as Duck finger-fucks him, sitting on his side to kiss him without obstructing Barclay’s view.
“Ah yes.” He kisses Barclays neck, hand teasing the head of his cock, “you insisted on bottoming because you were so scared you might hurt me. I can still see it, you on your hands and knees, asking me to take you--those were your exact words--then whimpering when I finally got my cock in.”
“Fuck” Joseph is clearly enjoying the story; if Barclay had known he was into this, he would have made all his exes record voicemails describing their exploits.
“If memory serves I came very fast, because you were so much tighter than I expected and you, you felt so good. I used my hands to get you off-”
“Uh huh, fuck, you hadn’t pulled out yet and it was so fucking good, fuck, Indrid-”
“You made such cute noises when you came” a slow, deep kiss as heat floods him, “I wonder if you’ll do the same now.”
“Probably” is all he grunts out before he’s cumming hard enough that most of it hits Joseph’s stomach rather than Indrid’s fingers. His head lolls as his cock pulses, and beneath his own heartbeat he picks up Duck ordering Joseph to be good and cum for him. After a moment, there’s the distinct moan his boyfriend makes during his climax. It’s followed, confusingly, by weak laughter. His eyes flutter open to see Indrid licking his cum off Joseph’s chest, which happens to be ticklish.
He scoots over to join them, Joseph kissing him sleepily the instant he’s close enough.
“You sure you don’t need to cum, sugar?”
“I’m only half-hard, and I know I’m too tired to make it the rest of the way. Not that this wasn’t supremely satisfying. But you each owe me an orgasm sometime in the future.”
“All in favor of blowin ‘Drids mind tomorrow mornin’”
He and the other two raise their hands in sync. Then the four of them collapse, laughing, in each others arms.
#meet ugly#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends#indruck#sternclay#inclay#autistic Indrid#trans duck newton#trans agent stern#reader request#duck newton/agent stern
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wish you were sober (richie tozier)
warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex, angst, pining, reader is an unreliable narrator at best
inspired by the song wish you were sober by conan gray
[losers + reader are 16+]
if someone were to ask you when you fell in love with richie, you don’t think you’d be able to answer them.
was it when you met him, thirteen and wild and so magnetic you couldn’t stay away from him? was it when you followed him into a sewer, endlessly terrified but trying to be as brave as he made you think you could be? was it when you looked at him and realized he had grown up right in front of you, and you hadn’t realized? or was it all the little moments in between, the mundane and the electric all in one?
you have no clue. all you know is this: you’re in love with richie tozier, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.
you bring your cup to your mouth, the edge of it pressing into your bottom lip. you don’t take a drink from it; you’re already a little buzzed, and you’re reluctant to get any drunker. you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.
across the room from you, somehow perfectly visible despite the mass of dancing bodies separating you from him, richie leans against the wall, his arm around the waist of his girlfriend, who isn’t you.
you exhale as slowly as you can. inside of your chest, your heart feels like it is poised to shatter.
it shouldn’t shock you anymore. richie has a new girlfriend seemingly every month, a revolving-door of pretty girls that giggle when he kisses them and wear his jean jacket around school but ultimately never stay long. richie never offers explanation as to why they break up and you never ask. you’re afraid of whatever it is he might say. you’re afraid of knowing you’re not good enough for him if all of them weren’t.
you sigh. you’re such a fucking cliche. falling in love with your best friend, silently pining away as if it’ll make him notice you? you’d gag at the thought if it wasn’t your life.
a shoulder brushing against yours distracts you from your thoughts, and you glance over to see stan’s expectant face. he raises an eyebrow at you. “you alright?”
you want to scream. no, you’re not alright. you don’t think you’ve been alright since before you were officially a loser. but you can’t say that to stan, not without being perfectly honest, so you arrange your features into something resembling a smile. “what’s up, buttercup?”
stan scoffs. “you’ve been spending too much time with richie.”
will it ever stop hurting, the constant reminder of how close you are with richie but never close enough? “or he’s been spending too much time with me,” you say, sniffing arrogantly. the facade you put on sometimes is easier than breathing.
stan rolls his eyes. “sure, that’s it.” he pauses, squinting at you. “are you sure you’re okay? you look… upset, i guess.”
you snort, taking a sip of your drink as an excuse not to respond right away. your heart is in your throat at the idea of being caught. “you guess? gee, thanks stan.”
he narrows his eyes at you, his nostrils flaring slightly. behind him, bill is jumping onto mike’s back, laughing loudly. “shut up, you know what i meant. are you alright? seriously.”
you don’t give yourself time to hesitate. stan has a sixth sense for when he’s being lied to and won’t stop pestering you until you tell him the truth, and you’d like to not confess to him tonight. “yeah, stan,” you grin, feeling the lie like sawdust in your mouth. “i’m all good.”
he gives you a skeptical look, searching your face, but eventually he just sighs and nods. “alright, fine. if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
you nod back, glad you managed to escape that. “thanks, dude. hey, i’m gonna go grab a different drink, i’ll be right back.”
you don’t wait for him to say anything, or for anyone else to come with you. you just slip away, using the hordes of drunk teenagers to your advantage until you manage to get to the kitchen.
your shoulders slump, the smile you’d painted onto your face slipping away. slowly, you pour the rest of your shitty beer down the sink, opening the fridge and rifling around until you find a soda, stealing it before you can talk yourself out of it. whoever’s house this is won’t care, and besides, you think you need it.
when you leave the kitchen, your eyes fall to the spot where richie had been leaning. the wall is empty now.
pathetically, your eyes fill with tears. of course you know richie has a lot of sex, considering the self-satisfied smirk he’ll wear after getting fucked combined with the rumors that follow him like the perfume of whatever girl he’s seeing. the worst part is they aren’t even bad rumors; you’d lost count of the amount of times you had heard of how good a lover he is, or how his dick is as big as he’s often bragging, or how he does this thing with his mouth that feels like absolute heaven—
you’d heard enough. too much, probably. and it burrowed into your brain like the most insidious of weeds, sprouting thoughts you never should have let take root.
but of course richie was off fucking his girl. she was gorgeous, after all, easily one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen, all smooth tanned skin and long blonde hair and hourglass figure. the kind of girl that richie deserved to have on his arm. the kind of girl that you would never be.
you knew this would happen. still, the pain of it takes your breath away.
you manage to stumble your way back over to the losers, greeting them with a smile that feels entirely too wooden. you play the part, laughing with bev and leaning into ben’s shoulder and gossiping quietly with eddie. you stick to your script, even when richie stumbles down the stairs sometime later with the girl tucked under his arm, both of their clothes in disarray and richie’s curls a wild mess. you’re such a seasoned professional that you barely miss a beat with eddie, even when your eyes find the hickey sucked under richie’s jaw and stay there.
for the rest of the night, you do your best to stay away from richie, always at least one loser between you two. you doubt he notices, too wrapped up in his girl. you think her name is sandy. she’s so beautiful it hurts.
eventually, you think it’s probably late enough that you can leave without raising much of a fuss. all of the other losers are still there, but bev’s already dozing against ben’s shoulder and bill is fighting a losing battle with his own drooping eyelids. you can probably slip out now, you figure, before you fall apart.
you manage to say your goodbyes as quickly as possible, waving as you turn to leave. you drove here with the others in stan’s car but it’s not too far of a walk. besides, the cold might do you some good—
a hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you back against a broad chest. when you turn, you come face to face with one richie tozier.
god, years later and he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. his jawline is sharp and square, his shoulders broad and sturdy, a whisper of the strength he will carry as a man but no less impressive now. gone are the days of the dorky kid you first met; he’d long ago traded in his hawaiian shirts for jean jackets and ripped jeans, silver rings glinting around his fingers and a chain hanging into the open collar of his t-shirt. again, you are reminded of the rumors that constantly follow him. you’re just angry they didn’t think he was hot from the very beginning.
“where are you going?” he asks, his words slurred. he’d been downing the shitty spiked punch earlier like it was his job.
you sigh, tilting your head back to look at him. there’s another hickey just to the left of his adam’s apple. “home,” you say, simply. “i’m tired.”
he frowns, stepping closer to you. the heat radiates off of him. “but i haven’t gotten to talk to you all night,” he whines, pouting ridiculously. “i missed you.”
it shouldn’t affect you. richie flirts like breathing, with anyone who will entertain him. it’s just how close you two are that means his flirting is usually aimed at you. “sorry, rich,” you say, and you find that you mean it. “next time, okay?”
his fingers release your wrist, only to catch on the curve of your waist and pull you close. the heat of his hand burns through the flimsy material of your top. you’re so focused on trying to stay upright just from that simple touch that you almost miss what he says next.
“can i come with you?” his voice is low, rough, more of a growl than anything else.
you blink, stupefied. usually you’re quicker than this, able to keep up a banter with him that’s rivaled only by him and eddie. now, you’re left tongue-tied, the endless wanting inside of you threading around your throat and choking you. “what?”
“can i come with you?” he repeats, looking down at you with his pretty eyes. his glasses slide down his nose. you fight the urge to push them back up. “we can take my truck. this party’s kind of a bore, honestly.”
you swallow, feeling your heart stutter. “what about sandy?” your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.
richie shrugs, casual as all hell and infuriatingly attractive. “she can last without me for a bit. i’d rather hang out with my favorite girl.” he grins at you, his dimples curving into his cheek.
it makes you want to scream. he says things like this all the time, calls you doll and baby and love like he has the fucking right, constantly says you’re the most important person in his life. and yet, he doesn’t feel the same way for you as you do for him. and he never will.
still, you’re a sucker for him. your lips curl into a weak smile. “sure, rich,” you whisper; any louder and your voice will crack. “let’s get out of here.”
he doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to anyone else, just crowding against your back and walking behind you the entire way out the front door. he’s so close that his chest brushes against your shoulder blades, his fingertips grazing over your hip. you focus on not tripping.
once you’re outside, you hold your hand out, not looking at him. “keys,” you command.
he laughs, full and bright as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “yes, nurse ratched,” he teases, dropping them into your hand. “right away, nurse ratched.”
you scowl at him, turning away to stomp your way down the block to where richie parked. it’s not a long walk but the late autumn night is chilly, especially through the thin material of your top and your skirt. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.
before you can really react, richie’s shrugging off his jacket, settling the heavy denim over your shoulders. he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath, the cotton clinging to his biceps and chest, and you can’t tear your eyes away, even when he murmurs, “should’ve said you were cold, doll.”
the jacket smells like him: the apple of his shampoo, the warmth of his deodorant, the smoke from his cigarettes. it shouldn’t be a pleasant scent but it is, because it means comfort. it means home. it means your best friend and the love of your life.
your shoulders slump, your hand trembling when you finally reach his truck and reach for the driver’s side handle. “thanks, richie,” you breathe, climbing into the car before he can answer.
you don’t really know what he had in mind when he asked to leave with you, but you’re too overwhelmed to handle being alone with him for too long. already, having him this close is fogging your brain. you need to get away from him so you can fall apart in peace.
you decide to just take him home and walk from there. it proves to be the best choice, because not even a minute into your drive his chin is dropping down to his chest, his eyelids closing in longer and longer blinks until finally, he’s dozing in the front seat, big body curled in your direction. it fills you with so much warmth you think you are burning from the inside out.
it should be ridiculous, how much you love him. you should be at your limit for how much you have to give, capped out a long time ago, but everyday you fall for him a little bit more. whenever he does something particularly sweet, or funny, or attractive, you feel a little more of yourself crumble away to lay at his feet. at this point, you’re more fracture than glass, crushed into a fine powder under richie’s foot.
by the time you pull into richie’s driveway, he’s snoring lightly, his glasses knocked askew on his face. part of you wants to let him sleep, but the bigger part of you knows you need to get him into the house. you already slack on your best friend duties by secretly being in love with him, you don’t need to leave him out in the cold too.
sighing, you turn the key and shut the car off, getting out and walking around to the passenger side. you shake his shoulder, gently at first, then rougher when he doesn’t respond. he grumbles, swatting at you. you can’t help but laugh, shaking him again.
“rich,” you croon, shaking him with both hands. he groans, scrunching his face up. you snicker. “c’mon asshole, you’re too heavy for me to carry.”
he pries one eye open, glaring at you. “or you’re too small to even try,” he taunts back, sticking his tongue out.
you roll your eyes, tugging him out of the car. he goes easily enough, stumbling a little bit leaning into your side as you lock the car behind you.
you weren’t kidding when you said he was heavy. he’s just so much bigger than you, tall and broad and undeniably masculine. you try your best to take some of his weight with an arm curved around his waist, but you don’t think you’re really doing anything.
the lights are all off inside, richie’s parents gone for the weekend at some conference for his dad’s work. it makes you feel better about how you two stumble around in the dark, knocking into the walls and tripping over the stairs. finally, without much incident, you make it into richie’s room, depositing him on his bed before he can fall and brain himself on his table. his desk light is on, throwing the room into shadow but just light enough for you to see his face.
his curls spread around him on his pillow, his eyes already closed. he’s on top of his covers but there’s not much you can do about that. the only thing you can do is untie his boots and pluck his glasses from his face, letting him get as comfortable as he can with his clothes still on.
you stop, looking down at him. he’s almost angelic in his sleep, peaceful and quiet for probably the only time in his life. he’s so gorgeous like this, vulnerable, unguarded. it makes you feel like a creep to be looking at this without his knowledge. or his approval.
biting your lip, you turn to the door, only stopping when you realize you still have his jacket. carefully, you shrug it off, going to lay it on his bed when his voice stops you.
“keep it.”
you look up to see his eyes half-open, locked on you. the lamp throws his face into sharp angles and shadow, but the expression on his face is soft. his fingers stretch towards you.
“it looks good on you,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “you should wear it all the time.”
you don’t know what to say, frozen at the foot of his bed. it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, before you remember that he’s drunk and out of his mind. he probably thinks you’re sandy. there’s no way he’d ever say that to you.
but he keeps going, his voice rough, smooth velvet over steel. “you look good all the time. makes me feel insane. just wanna touch you but i can’t.”
your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. through trembling lips, you manage to get out, “what about sandy?”
he shrugs, a tiny movement that feels unsure. you’ve never seen him shy like this. the fact that sandy’s likely the reason makes you burn inside. “she’s cool and all, but she’s not you. you’re my best friend, (y/n). i love you.”
you gasp softly, nowhere near loud enough for him to hear. your heart feels like it’s being pulled in two. “i love you too, rich. more than you could ever understand.”
but he shakes his head firmly. “no, you don’t get it. i love you. you’re my—you’re my other half. my partner in crime. i’d be lost without you.” before you can respond, he sighs and whispers, “wish you were my girlfriend. not sandy.”
his eyes slip closed the next instant. as you stand there, simultaneously turned to stone and burning alive, he gives a soft snore, his features relaxing in sleep.
you stare down at him for what feels like centuries, suddenly too old to move. you look down at the jacket in your arms, then back up to him. a loose curl lays against his forehead. your fingers itch to push it behind his ear.
“i wish you were sober,” you whisper. he doesn’t twitch.
you leave the jacket laid at the foot of his bed when you go.
(part two)
#richie tozier#richie tozier imagine#richie tozier x reader#richie tozier fanfiction#the losers club#the losers club imagine#the losers club x reader#my writing
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❛ CLUB DOESN'T GO FIRST ❜
with Ezekiel Reyes.
Request: Second part of this prompt.
BY @ly--canthrope
Warnings: none.
Word count: about 2.9k
Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!
Gif credits: @angels-reyes
Masterlist.
Sitting up and resting your back against the window, you cover your mouth to drown a loud yawn on the palm of your hand. Your head hurts too much, but not more than your heart, feeling yet the oppression squeezing it. Turning to the nightstand, you find a coffee with a hand written note that says ‘drink me with the pill’. Angel has been taking care of you for the last four days, sleeping on the sofa you can't imagine how hurt has to be his back. Feeling so sorry for him. The history repeats itself years ago. Lowering the blind a little, you grab the painkiller to swallow it with a sip of the cold drink. You don't want to check your phone, knowing what you are going to find. But the masochism is stronger than your desire for not doing it. Grabbing it from under Angel's pillow, you unlock it.
There are thousands of texts and lost calls from EZ's number. And, like every morning since four days ago, you read all the messages. This time, you have fifty two. The most recent is from twenty minutes ago. You're aware that he has been sleeping on his brother's door waiting for you to talk with him. But you don't want any explanation. You understood why he was leaving in the middle of the night, thinking that you were sleeping. And you don't want to think about the fact that he has been cheating you. But if it's not, what else?
To: angelito 👼🏻
“I'm still alive to my misfortune”
Leaving the phone away, you try to get up stretching your whole anatomy after putting your feet on the warmth floor because of the sun going through the window. Walking straight to the bathroom and after having another drink from the mug, you place it over the marble sink to take off your pajamas, which is basically an old Angel's shirt, you get into the shower. The hot water wets down your hair and your anatomy, rubbing your face to get rid of the rheums and gargling to clean your throat from the taste of beer and cigars courtesy of last night. When your mane is already washed, and your body too, you step out from the shower wrapped in a soft blue towel covering from your chest to your knees.
From: angelito 👼🏻
“Drink the coffee, take the painkiller and come to the clubhouse. Prez wanna talk with you”.
To: angelito 👼🏻
“Is your brother there?”
From: angelito 👼🏻
“In Yuma till tonight”.
Sighing heavily, you nod at the last message walking back to his room to get dressed. For a moment you thought that he was in the building hallway waiting again for you to talk with him. But you're starting to see ghosts in a house that it's not haunted. When you're ready, picking your basic stuff around the house, like the keys of your car and your wallet, to keep them inside your bag; you leave the Reyes house. Unlocking the black Camaro, you find a note stuck in the front windshield. ‘I love you. I'm so sorry’. Crumpling it into a ball, you throw it to the ground without giving it more importance than it already has.
Driving your way to the clubhouse, your phone rings on the codriver seat, flashing EZ's name on the screen. And you're about to throw it too by the window, when you have to stop your car dead some inches away to not run Creeper over, at the entrance of the scrapping.
“Shit, mami!”
“Sorry, Crep'!” You say, sticking your head out of the car for a moment.
Biting your bottom lip, dying of shame, you continue by the gravel road to the front yard. Parking close to the motorcycles, Angel receives you between his strong arms, as soon as you step out of the Camaro.
“Gotcha!” He screams with a singing voice, lifting you up some seconds, squeezing you under his grip and making you laugh.
“Stop! You're gonna break me!”
“Yeah, sure… 'cause you're soft and fluffy, aren't you?” He jokes pocking the tip of your nose, before placing an arm on your shoulders.
“What does Bishop want?”
“You will see, (Y/N)”. He smirks at you, bringing you to the inside of the clubhouse. “He's in the Templo”.
Greeting the other members and grabbing another cup of coffee, you take off the sunglasses that cover the black bags under your eyes coming into it. Closing the sliding door, El Presidente gets up from his chair to hug you with an arm on your back.
“Sit down, querida”.
You have been all day thinking about the thing you want EZ to explain to you, making a whole speech in your head that you know you're going to forget when you see him again. Yes, you still be raged and bereaved, but you can't erase all at once a year of relationship, and a life of friendship. Your hands tremble over the steer wheel, clinging your fingers around it when you drive through the scrapping again when the night has fallen down above Santo Padre. Soon, you find him sitting on the porch waiting for you, after his brothers told him that you wanted to talk. Licking your bottom lip and breathing by your nose, you leave the car parked close to the motorbikes, getting out of it with dubious steps and your hands keeped in the back pockets of your jeans. Ezekiel smiles with a saddened aura wrapping him, noticing that the shine you used to have in your eyes now is gone. Standing up on his feet, you follow him to the roulotte, where everything happens. And even if you would like to have this conversation in another place, you know it's going to help you because of all the memories you have built there. This place is going to keep you in the real world.
Opening the door, the younger Reyes lets you come in first, closing it behind his back in the meantime you sit at the table. Your hands are intertwined in a first over the wood, with your gaze fixed on them, until he has a seat in front of you. Emboldening, you look at him.
“Those… three or four times you left past midnight, you went to see her?”
He nods.
“Yes”.
Licking your incisors with the tip of your tongue, you tour your lower lip with it. You already knew it. But it's painful hearing him confirming it to you.
“Did you f—”.
“No”. He just says, interrupting you with his eyes constantly on yours. No doubts, no trembling tone of voice. “I would never touch her. I would never touch any woman that it's not you”.
“Well, you were ‘actually’ touching her”. You laugh with a bitter and sarcastic laughter, resting your back against the sofa watching him snort. “Why? Why did you lie to me?”
“I couldn't tell you anything until being sure”.
“Being sure about what, Ezekiel? Fuck off with your secrets!” You bark hitting the table with the palm of your hand.
“Until being sure of who killed my mother... and who hired him”.
Placing both forearms on the table, frowning confused and your mouth slightly opened, you try to say something. Stuttering nonsense words. Now, in part, you feel like shit. You don't care anymore why he didn't tell you but the fact he has been through this alone. Rubbing your face with both hands and pulling back your hair from the roots to flood them onto your nape, you snort.
“Angel knows it?”
“No”.
“And… why Emily? What does she have to do with all this?”
“Jose Galindo hired a hitman to kill my parents”. EZ briefly explains, keeping his gaze on yours at all times. “Pops worked for him, but when he met my mom and got pregnant of Angel, he left the Cartel and ran away. I don't know if he… did it because he thought that pops could speak with the DEA or… I don't know… I don't know yet”.
“Do you… know the name of the… man who shot your mother?” Ez told you that he saw his face, but it wasn't enough to find him. He just nods, freezing your blood.
And you know it's the exact and perfect moment to drop your condition on the table.
“I want you to leave the club”.
The youngest Reyes twists his neck confused, because he wasn't expecting these words and you're talking pretty serious.
“If you want me to come back, I want you to leave the club. I want you away from Emily, from the Cartel, from all this shit. I'm not gonna live as your mother did. I love you, but this life is not for me, Ezekiel”.
“You can't ask m—”.
“Yes, I can. And I'm doing it. I've been with you for the last eight years. Unconditionally. Always by your side. But I can't. I can't anymore”. You sentence about to cry, gesticulating with one hand to cut the air between both. “I'm leaving Santo Padre tomorrow. You have until noon”.
You're hating Bishop right now more than you thought you could ever hate someone in your life. But that man is wise like a damn rat. And sometimes, he knows you better than yourself. Even so, you're fucking up EZ so bad that he's about to break into pieces when he watches you getting up from the sofa. A lot of bullshit dances in your head. His mother's murderer, Emily trying to get him closer, Angel living happily in his ignorance. You're sure that your brain is going to explode from one moment to another, when a strong and firm hand grabs your left wrist. Bowing down your orbs to the fingers clinged around your skin, you raise up your gaze to the man with his eyes filled with tears.
“I cho—choose you over everything”. He says with a broken thread of voice, shaking like a scared kid, slowly pulling you closer.
Surprised and stunned, you let him sit you on his lap. Sinking his face in your neck, he finally lets go of all those things that were oppressing his heart, turning them into tears. His tensed arms surrounding your waist, making you know that he doesn't want you to go.
“Isn't it enough to asking him to do it?”
“Querida, words will always be words. And words are gone with the wind”.
“I'm gonna destroy him”.
“Didn't he do it first? I want his kutte on my table”.
Doubting, you bring your hands to the back of his head. As soon as he feels your touch again, his cry gets louder staining your shirt holding you stronger. EZ is trying to ask you to stay, to tell you that he's going to do whatever you ask him for, but his voice is so low that you can't hear him well. Your fingers caress his scalp slowly, from his nape to the top of his head, resting your cheek on it.
Ezekiel takes one last look at the leather kutte exposed over the table of the roulotte. Since he came out of jail, the only two reasons he have had to continue his life have been you and this piece of clothes. They're his family. They love him. He enjoys the shit he does in some kind of way, but he can't imagine a life without you. For him it's going to be easy to find a job, start from zero in another city, another country. He knows it well. But he's going to miss riding his bike as much as he has done until now.
Taking the kutte and cleaning his tears, EZ has a deep breath before stepping out of the trailer, guiding his steps through the alley towards the clubhouse. Every member of his charter is sitting at the table inside the templo, without understanding what's happening when they watch him coming in with the vest in a hand. No one, except Bishop and Angel. He's devastated, having his heart divided in two. One of them falling into pieces. But that feeling is taken to the background because of the confusion that tours through his body, when he finds you there too behind Bishop's chair, resting your back on the dark wall.
“I just… want to thank you for… welcoming me here, as one more of you. For letting me be part of this family, but…” Ezekiel leaves the kutte over the table with trembling fingers, running his hands through the fabric to wipe out some small wrinkles. “I leave the club”.
“What?” “Brother, the fuck?” “Bishop, what is that?”
All the members talk in unison, while Angel looks at his brother in silence. Actually, he's feeling proud of what he is doing. Yes, he's leaving the club. But Ezekiel is showing that he cares about his family, more than anything.
“I don't know if I have to do… something before… leaving”. He says then, clearing his throat and tangling his hands behind his back.
“Wear that fucking kutte and place the boxes of beers that came this morning”. Bishop just says, while you take some steps to put your hands on his shoulders. “See? I told you, kid”.
“Listen, querida, I would leave the club too if you asked me to do it. You're the kind of person that could put out the flames of hell”.
“But… I don't want him to do it”.
“He will do it, if he loves you. If he truly considers you his family. We're always with this shit about ‘club goes first’, but that's not true. Blood. Blood goes first. No matter how bad your true family treated you, it's in our DNA. I will not let him go, it's just a test. And if he chooses the club over you, I'll fuck him up”.
“If you cross a single world, again, with Galindo's wife, listen to me, Ezekiel”. El Presidente gets up from his chair, placing one hand over the table to use the other to point at him. “I will cut your body into pieces, keeping you alive all the time possible, to spread it all over the desert. Don't play dumb, prospect, I am not kidding”.
The crew are still confused, but they know that as soon as you leave the Templo, Angel will explain to them what was the conversation between Bishop and you.
“And about you, querida”. The man turns a little, twisting his neck. “Look where you drive by. Creeper was shot some months ago, don't run him over too”.
“Yeah! Exactly! I'm fucking fragile, mami”.
“Like a Fabergé's egg”. You say rolling your eyes.
“If you say that because of what I'm thinking… I'm not bald, I like to shave my head”. He replies making fun of you, watching how you walk closer to EZ.
“Oh, c'mon! Isn't that bad to be bald, Creeper. You save money on shampoo”.
The laughs flood the Templo, in the meantime that you grab the kutte to help a confused EZ to put it on.
“Let's go, prospect, you have work to do”. Palming his shoulders, you accompany him to the bar, after closing the glass door.
“I… I… Wha—What hap…” Your boyfriend isn't able to form a sentence, rubbing his face with both hands. “Did you… Did he…?”
“We did” You reply, crossing the bar to grab some beers. Opening both, you offer him one. “I didn't want to reach the extreme of watching you hand over the kutte, but Bishop wanted to push you to your limits”.
“But, then… What happens with us? Are you leaving? Are you leaving Santo Padre? I did what you ask me to, you ca—”.
“Sometimes, I really think that you're not this… smart as you used to, Ezekiel”. Drinking from your bottle, you shake your head with a fleeting smile. “It was just a test, EZ. I'm not going anywhere. Bishop had the… brilliant idea of makes you proof me your love over the club”.
“So… You're staying?”
“I'm ready to punch you in the face, if you ask me again”.
Leaving his beer away over a table, he takes three big steps towards you, clinging his arms around your body. For a second you're sure that you're running out of air, before he starts to kiss your face all over it. He was truly fucked, and now is when you're seeing it. Surrounding his back with your arms, you push him closer to you, shortening all the possible distance between both.
“I promise I'll not keep any other secret from you. Never. I swear to my mom, baby. There's no one in this life over you, over what I feel for you”. Ezekiel assures you, sinking his face in the space between his forearm and your neck. “I love you. You're gonna see it every fucking day, mi amor”.
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Text
This Is Crazy, Isn’t It?
Title: This Is Crazy, Isn’t It?
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester (Mentioned)
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Words: ± 2000
Description: The trio enjoy a night out in Las Vegas. Things don’t go quite as expected.
Written For: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Square Filled: Accidental Marriage
Warnings: Fluff, Stranger Danger, Mentions of Alcohol Use, Hints of Smut and gets a bit smutty towards the end.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :) I don’t own any of the characters or gifs used. :) As usual, there was no beta, so all mistakes are my own.
Please leave feedback, like, share, or whatever. It gives me life and motivation! Thank you loves!
As always, thanks for the awesome dividers @talesmaniac89
Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.
Masterlist
The afternoon sunlight was bright and intrusive as it cascaded in through the large window overlooking the city, interrupting (Y/N)’s sleep and stirring her awake. She groaned and scrunched her face up against the unwelcome light, her nose wrinkling with discomfort.
Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding painfully - courtesy of all the alcohol she and the Winchester brother’s had consumed the night before. They’d been out celebrating Dean’s birthday and naturally, he’d insisted they go to Vegas for a night of fun.
Now, as fun as it may have been at the time, her body was definitely regretting her choices.
With another groan, she tried to roll away from the source of the sunlight and yanked the covers over her head, shifting on the mattress to face the other direction. The comforter was fluffy and heavenly, wrapping her into a cocoon of warmth. Her body connected with something solid beside her and she froze, having not expected the sudden skin on skin contact.
Her (Y/E/C) eyes shot open wide and she gasped in surprise as she looked beside her, eyeing the naked man she currently shared a bed with. She withdrew herself, nearly falling out of bed in her haste to get away from the stranger.
She hugged the covers close when she realized her clothes were also missing, covering her bare chest as best as she could. She stared at the man with wide eyes, trying to put a name to the shaggy brown hair. Upon further inspection, she soon realized that the man in her bed wasn’t a stranger at all… It was Sam.
Sam fucking Winchester.
She brought a shaky hand to her head and tried to recall the events from the night before, but the effort only resulted in a piercing headache and fragmented images. Her eyes wandered back to Sam - who remained unbothered, laying face down into the mattress. She studied his face in an attempt to help jog her memories, to no avail. She exhaled heavily, blowing the air from her lips in a frustrated sigh.
The white sheet was draped over his bare ass, contrasting heavily with his sun bronzed skin. She couldn’t help but let her eyes scan over his naked form, traveling up the length of his muscular back and strong shoulders. She traced every dip and curve along the planes of his back, her breath hitching in her chest. He had his large arms folded beneath his head, tucked under his pillow while he slept.
(Y/N) felt her heart flutter with excitement and her cheeks grew warm and darkened in color, something inside of her stirring and building at the sight of him. She shifted a little and chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes taking in his peaceful expression. It wasn’t often she saw a Winchester so relaxed, especially Sam. It was a refreshing sight. She almost didn’t want to wake him.
A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, despite the situation she found herself in. What the hell happened last night? She tore her gaze away from the youngest Winchester and began to search the room for some answers, scanning over the discarded beer bottles and nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to the sofa. The sight of it made her stomach flip and turn. She wouldn’t be drinking any of that for a while.
Another groan left her and she had to shut her eyes to help fight off a wave of nausea. This would be the last time she’d let a Winchester talk her into drinking again. She combed a set of fingers through her tangled (Y/H/C) hair, ruffling it up a bit at the roots in an attempt to tame it after her apparently eventful night. Something snagged in the strands and she pulled her hand away to examine it further, her eyes going wide once again.
There, on her left hand, a delicate diamond ring sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. It wasn’t overly large or bulky and it felt out of place on her finger, but it was breathtakingly beautiful. Her eyes darted back to Sam and, regretfully moving too fast, she yanked his pillow from under his head to get a better view of his hands.
He woke with a sharp intake of air, his head jerking upward and making his vision spin. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He mumbled incoherently, still half asleep. (Y/N) ignored him and grabbed for his left hand, while also carefully keeping the blanket tucked close to her naked frame.
Sam was confused and groggy, his face heavy with sleep. His hair was tousled and sticking up at odd angles, and if (Y/N) wasn’t already preoccupied, she would have thought he looked adorable. Though, in her eyes, Sam Winchester was always adorable.
As suspected, there on Sam’s left hand, was a black wedding band circling his ring finger. Uh-oh. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and the blood seemed to drain from her face; what did they do?
Sam studied her face, his own filled with concern as he followed her gaze, dropping it to their hands. Realization quickly took over and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips. He shifted and took her hand in his, their fingers lacing together.
(Y/N) was puzzled by this gesture and her eyes snapped to his, his hazel gaze overwhelming her. She felt her heart beat a little harder, a little faster, inside of her chest as she watched Sam. He moved on the mattress, his muscles flexing and shifting under his tanned skin. His weight caused the bed to shift and dip differently as he moved closer.
She couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak. He lifted a hand and gently brushed it against her cheek, tucking away a few strands of hair. Her face burned with a blush and she found herself wanting to burrow into the covers and hide forever, but she was frozen in place, hypnotized by the beautiful man in front of her.
“You don’t remember, do you?” He asked, his voice a bit gravely with sleep, but full of kindness and adoration. Was this really happening?
(Y/N) shook her head, still unable to find her voice. Sam smiled fondly, dimples creasing his handsome face. “I’m not surprised, we were both pretty wasted.” He laughed lightly, the sound filling her with so much joy. He rubbed circles into the back of her hand, the pad of his thumb much rougher than she’d imagined. It was nice, though, and the gesture made her chest swoon.
“The shortened version; after Dean ditched us at the casino, we decided to check out The Strip. More alcohol was consumed, feelings were announced, lots and lots of kissing,” He flashed her his boyish grin and looked up at her through brown bangs, his own cheeks flushed with color.
The more Sam spoke, the more blanks he filled in and the distorted images in her mind were starting to become clearer. He chuckled before continuing, “We, uh, accidentally stumbled into one of those,” He used his hands to emphasize what he was saying, “over-the-top, overly exaggerated churches,” He laughed again.
“With the Elvis impersonator. Oh god.” (Y/N) recalled and dropped her face into her palm, hiding it. They both laughed, a little embarrassed by their actions… but somehow, not regretting them.
“Right.” Sam confirmed, a smile still adorning his face. “Well, one thing led to another and…” He held up his hand, twisting the band around with his thumb.
The pair of them sat in silence for a moment, despite a few longing gazes and giggles, letting everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours sink in. Her eyes fell to the diamond sparkling on her finger again and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Sam asked with care, gingerly touching her exposed knee to steal her attention. He offered her a closed lip smile for assurance, urging her to share her thoughts.
“This is crazy, right?” (Y/N) stated, the rational part of her brain taking over. Her heart couldn’t be happier, but there was no way this would actually work, right? They were drunk. Fuck, were they still drunk? Panicking, she moved to stand up, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around her tiny frame, covering her exposed skin.
She paced a little, padding the length of the bed and back again. “I mean… we’re married, Sam. Fucking married… man and wife… sickness, heath, death due us part… married.”
Sam watched her, his eyes lingering over the skin he could see from where the blanket hung low, hesitating on the dimples of her lower back. “Is it though?” Sam asked from his position on the bed, stopping her in her tracks.
“What?” She snapped back and looked at him in bewilderment, but then quickly averted her gaze, having forgotten he was completely naked.
“Is this really that crazy?” Sam corrected, moving to join her on the other side of the bed.
(Y/N) didn’t notice his movement, her eyes closed with frustration. “Sam.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb.
“No, I’m serious. (Y/N/N), look at me.” He encouraged, his voice gentle. He stopped in front of her and gently caressed her cheek, before hooking his finger below her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. She couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her worries already beginning to ease.
His large, puppy dog eyes bore into hers, making her legs feel weak. “I don’t regret our decision, however reckless it may have been.” He laughed a little, before continuing, “I haven’t been this happy in a very long time,” He said, swallowing thickly and forcing his Adam's apple to bob with the motion.
“I am beyond crazy about you, (Y/N/N), have been for a while now and I know you feel it too… you admitted it last night.” He reminded her with a smirk, making her blush again. “I just… I fail to see how this is a bad thing. And I don’t want to.”
(Y/N) stared up at him, stunned into silence. How could this be happening? Everything she’d ever wanted to hear him say, he was saying it. Right now. Right in front of her. Sam and all his glory, was admitting that he loved her. “Well what are you waiting for, then? Kiss your wife.” She muttered, breathless.
A smile broke across Sam’s face. He didn’t need telling twice. He dipped his head and her eyes shut, her long lashes fluttering. Their lips crashed together, molding and morphing into one, as if they were meant for just that purpose. She parted her lips for him, inviting him in.
(Y/N) felt herself moving closer to Sam, her body moving on it’s own accord, her hands releasing the blanket in her grasp as she pressed her palms firmly into his bare chest. The sheet fell into a heap around her feet, forgotten. Her hands travelled up, bracing herself with his strong shoulders as she hoisted herself higher, wanting to be closer.
He groaned and placed his large hands at her thin waist, spraying out his thick fingers and dimpling her skin. His tongue eagerly tasting the inside of her mouth, hungry. He lifted her with ease, his hands moving down to cup her ass and she responded with a moan, her legs wrapping around him.
Sam turned toward their bed, gently laying her against the mattress while he hovered above her, careful not to put too much weight onto her. His lips left her mouth and attacked her neck instead, leaving a wet trail along her jawline, traveling down to her pulse point where he suckled gently. He nibbled at her ear, his breath hot and heavy against her flesh. She shivered beneath him. “I’m going to do more than just kiss my wife.” He promised through a lustful growl.
Thank you for reading!! <3
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@akshi8278
#anyfandomgoes#anyfandomgoes2020#sam winchester#sam x reader#sam#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfiction#spnfandom#spnfanficpond#guppy#guppy writing#fluff#fluffy#smut#smutty#marriage#accidental marriage#bingo#bingo square#sweet#sweet sam
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