#anyway. my brother was giving me shit for not sticking with friends for more than a few months and like. bro I have good reason. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tastesousweet · 3 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x black!reader

396 notes · View notes

olvitier · 2 months

Text

Sorry its so late buf i am in an Edling mood tonight and I will never stop thinking about the idea of how theyre the epitome of right person wrong time.

(obviously in a context of like fandom shenannigans where canon events arent 100% set in stone like edling arent canon but also idc !! they are to me! im ignoring it let me be insane) ANYWAY

Even if they wanted to be together post promised day Ling has all the responsibilities of Xing and his clan and Edward would never hold him back from that for a second. Im of the opinion that brotherhood Edward feels a lot of guilt for wanting love from the people around him particularly those he sees as good (winry, alphonse, etc) especially if hes done things hes perceived as hurting them (maes’ death, the transmutation, etc etc). Which is why I think Edward connects with Ling so well cayse he doesnt carry the weight of a lot if his past mistakes, and then when the stone happens its like goddamn it i roped this guy into my shit again. Like i dont know Edward doesnt really dedicate himself so fully to people outside of winry and ed a lot so its interesting like!!

He cares about a lot of people like the majority of the allied cast and we see him be openly affectionate towards Nina and Hughes pre their deaths but I think Ling is the only person hes ever decided to stick with WITHOUT alphonse? I may be wrong but the whole sure Ill stay with you and trust my brother and Winry to stay safe and follow you around the outskirts of the east for a week till the promised day to protect my new friend is so??? what?? huh???

But anyone my point is post promised day Edward cant really ever see a future with Ling because of all the responsibility Ling holds outside of him and its veyr tragic imo like especially because in a different scenario if Ling didnt have those responsibilities and Edward wasn’t so dedicated to the people around him to a fault of never thinking about his own desires I think they could have the possibility of a future.

Like I have read a lot of fanfiction abiut Ed traveling to Xing and living with him there but?? I realistically cant see him ever doing that just solely because Edward is not the type of person to settle down! like its my one and only criticism of the fma manga is that I cannot see Edward ever being satisfied with a simple life? Like even in Fma 03 which is my favourite interpretation of Edwards character once he gets stranded in our world he learns?? Rocket Science?? For the chance to get back to Amestris but he doesnt really seem to take that goal all that seriously especially considered Alfons ends up getting involved in a lot more aircraft projects than Edward like Edwsrd genuinely enjoys learning!!

Im pretty sure he was the one who dragged Alphonse into Hoenhiems office when they were kids after he left, probably to Al’s reluctance of if they were allowed in there, and started ripping through all of his old books just to learn. Edward never stops and it gets so bad that he never stops to even consider himself constantly worrying about getting his brother back or improving the states of others lives especially when! ya know! the whole country is at stake!!

So in a circumstance post promised day where Ed decides what he wants to do (my personal favourite interpretation is either an alchemical researcher outside of directly performing alchemy, ie revolutionizing the circle matrixes and discovering nee combinations or becoming a professor of some kind) I dont think he would give that up to settle again. And obviously Ling cant exactly up and leave being Emperor unless he decides he doesnt want to, im not the most knowledgable on Lings characterization so I wont speak there but!

They have so much fun together and compliment each other and genuinely care about each other so much but their happiness and fulfillment as people to themselves and others make it so its nearly impossible they would ever realistically end up together and its really doomed and tragic!! idk i think about it a lot.

#fma #edward elric #edling #fma thoughts #andrew be normal challenge it is NOT this deep this anime came out over a decade ago gay people arent real pre 2013 idk man im just insane #thought id share anyway please give me your thoughts fellow edling fans #specifically edling fans cause i dont wanna debate ship legitmacy #day speaks

53 notes · View notes

theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

Text

Halloween Housewarming

NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: Forbidden relationship, Alcohol, food, Brother's Best Friend Miguel, PiV sex, angst, keeping secrets, oral sex (afab receiving), nonbinary reader, Halloween costumes, ass play (if you squint), size kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me! [AO3 link] Thank you for beta-ing @sweetercalypso

Summary: You finally move our of your parent's house, just in time for Halloween. You and Miguel finally give into your desires.

“Yes mom, I’ve got enough food and snacks, there’s a bowl of candy outside the door for trick or treaters, but there aren’t many families in my building anyway.”

You speak into your headphones as you continue to set up your new apartment for tonight’s festivities. It’s not much, but it’s yours. The main living space is tiny, typical of this part of Brooklyn, but it’s enough. You smile to yourself as you hang the last of the bat-shaped bunting on your walls. You’ve pushed all the furniture to the edges of the small space to maximise party room.

“Well, I hope you have a lovely time tonight, and if the O’Hara boy is there, give him a kiss from me.”

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you think of Jason’s best friend. The way his smile twists your insides and makes your tongue feel too big for your mouth. You have it bad for Miguel, but your brother had made it abundantly clear. You recall the way he pulled you aside at your homecoming barbecue six months ago after Miguel had introduced himself.

Do not fuck Miguel, for all that is good and holy, he’s my best friend. Promise me?

You had promised him, but that didn’t stop you from crushing on him from afar, nor the pair of you from texting back and forth like teenagers. But he clearly hadn’t given Miguel the same pep talk.

He brought you lunch whenever he stopped by your brother’s office, always with too much food so he could make the excuse to stick around and help you eat it all. On your birthday he even brought you a cupcake and some flowers – much to your brother’s ire. The perks of working as tech support at your brother’s company meant you got more than good dental.

“Mom!” You groan down the phone as she chuckles away to herself on the other end.

“Alright, I’ll behave, just don’t tell your brother that I’m rooting for Miguel and You.”

“Thank you, mom. I love you, thank you for checking in.”

“I love you more, my Little Sparrow. Have a good time tonight.”

“I will, bye mom.”

“Speak soon.”

The line goes dead, and you don’t miss the way you’re still grinning like a fool at the mention of Miguel. You glance at the time on your phone and your eyes go wide. You’ve got less than an hour before the party is due to start.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself as you hurry to your bedroom to get ready. You and Miguel might have planned matching costumes, not that you’d admit that to your brother, and you were excited to see if he would pull through on his end of the bargain.

~*~

You’re buzzing with nervous energy as you secure the red-lensed goggles on your head, making sure not to obscure the supple, leather-like material of your cat ears connected to the hood of your costume. You look at yourself in the tall mirror in your bathroom as you make the final adjustments.

The stretchy leather playsuit hugs your curves, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks as you realise how revealing the costume is. The front is fastened together by way of a zipper and a ridiculously oversized silver ring. Your breasts are pushed up, the zipper nestling just right so that your bra is hidden from view, but your cleavage is sinfully on show.

Miguel’s guy did an amazing job.

You think to yourself as you make a mental note to thank him for the recommendation of “Mr. Z” whom the only thing you know about him is his name, and the PO Box you had to send your measurements to. Miguel told you not to worry about the cost, it was his treat.

But now you look at the craftsmanship you realise this was no cheap throw together.

Did he get a super-suit tailor to make this?

You wonder aloud as you bite your tongue excitedly. You’ve known Miguel’s secret for months, and every time you see Spider-Man save someone on TV you’re in awe that they’re the same person. You almost can’t believe it sometimes. Then you remember that night in Manhattan when you’d been cornered by some jerk with a tire iron.

Spider-Man had come to save the day, but he made the mistake of getting too close, of not scrubbing the scent of himself off before donning the suit. Because the moment he whisked you to safety you smelled it, the raw earthy scent of Miguel that you buried yourself in every time he gave you a – very platonic, definitely not wildly sexually charged – hug when he visited you at the office.

You’d said nothing at the time, but the more you thought about it, the more you watched Spider-Man on TV, the more you were convinced it was him.

Who could mistake that ass?

You think to yourself with a chuckle as you hear the buzzer for the front door. You shake yourself physically as you try not to linger on your crush’s secret nighttime antics.

Within minutes your apartment is flooded with familiar faces, friends from work, your brother’s friends, and other people you assume are plus ones. The music is blaring and you’re making sure the chip bowls are topped up when you feel a large, unmistakable presence behind you.

“Gotcha.”

Miguel’s deep voice rumbles from behind as you feel his hands on your hips. You feel like you’re about to combust as his large fingers wrap around your waist. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you feel your lacy panties cling to you as you feel yourself getting wet already.

“Not so fast, Boy Scout.”

You purr as you place your hands on his, lacing your fingers between his thick digits. You make like you’re holding them there, and gods do you want to encourage them lower. But you quickly spin on the balls of your feet, twisting his arms up and over your head as you effectively cross and lock his arms in front of him.

“Gotta do better than that Big Stuff.”

You pout up at Miguel as he grins down at you through the Batman mask. You can only see his strong, angular jaw as he smirks at you. But his eyes are shining chestnut, flecked with crimson as he nods in submission.

“Shouldn’t have underestimated you, Cat.” Miguel growls as he lets his eyes linger on your painted lips just a little too long.

“Fucking hell.” Jason growls as he notices the two of you holding hands. You quickly pull away before cocking your head to the side with a wide smile plastered on your face. He’s dressed as Mal Reynolds from Firefly and the nostalgia of watching the series with him as a kid gives you a warm, fuzzy hit of serotonin.

“Sorry Bro, it was just part of the bit, we aim to misbehave after all.” You say with as much sincerity you can muster. He cracks a smile at the Firefly reference and his stern look melts away.

“Whatever you say Sib,” The use of gender-neutral pet name floods you with warmth. “Where’s the beer?”

“In the fridge, dumbass.”

“So,” Miguel flashes you a cheeky grin as he looks you up and down, “Cat-Them?”

“Cat Woman is fine, I’m dressed up as a specific female character. But thank you, Miguel. I appreciate you making the effort to check.” You place your hand over Miguel’s bicep, lingering a little longer than most people would consider appropriate. But you can’t help it, even with the Batman mask on, even with the fact your brother was only a few feet away, you are utterly infatuated with him. You secretly hope he’s just as smitten as you.

“Anything for you, gatita.” Miguel says with a wink, and you bite your lip at his blatant flirty tone. Your brother returns just as another round of guests need to be buzzed in. You hurry off, all the while Miguel’s eyes are on you like a hawk.

~*~

It’s almost one in the morning when your apartment slowly begins to vacate, the more brazen of your friends ready to hit the town, the more conservative ready for their own beds. Jason is passed out on your couch as you begin to tidy up.

You’d made sure not to drink too much throughout the night. You wanted to be sensible, but you enjoyed yourself just fine with only a low-level buzz.

Miguel has already located the black trash bags and had started collecting up the fallout of having over twenty people partying it out in a Brooklyn one-bedroom apartment. You load up the dishwasher quietly as you steal glances at him. You feel his eyes on you more than once as you dance around one another in silence. The tension builds between you slowly, like the soft rain preceding a raucous summer storm. You’re both just waiting for the lightning to strike.

You get the apartment back into a reasonable state fairly quickly and before you know it, you’re leaning against your kitchen counter, Miguel next to you, elbows brushing as you both nurse a glass of water each and share a bowl of salted popcorn.

“So, you wanna stay and watch some shitty horror films with me? Or do you need to get going?” You ask, you’ve barely been able to get any time alone with Miguel tonight and it sucks because you had so many cheesy superhero lines queued up to fire at him.

“I mean, sofa’s kind of taken, not sure how we’re going to watch anything tonight.” Miguel chuckles as he gestures at your brother with his thumb.

“I’ve got PC in my room and a big ass gaming monitor if you don’t mind cosying up.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Is that a no?”

You raise an eyebrow at Miguel as you look over your shoulder at him. You watch his lips purse as if he’s offended at you even suggesting his refusal to spend time with you.

“Course not,” Miguel tilts his head at you as he elbows you gently. “Go on and get set up, I’ll get us some snacks.”

“My hero.” You didn’t expect it to roll off your tongue quite as mockingly as it does, and you try not to react as you see a flash of something dart across his crimson-brown irises.

You turn and retreat into your bedroom a little too quickly, and you fall back against the door with a large huff, heart beating too fast in your chest as you try and keep calm.

You feel like you’re a teenager again, sneaking around, inviting a boy back to your room to watch a scary movie. It’s so cliché it hurts. You thank your past self for making sure to change your sheets before the party.

You’d chosen a deep, royal blue and white set. You dub this your romantic set, not as slutty and desperate as your black and red satin sheets, but not as harrowingly embarrassing as your novelty Spider-Gwen sheets you had bought at a comic-con way before ever knowing Miguel, let alone knowing he’s actually Spider-Man.

You log in to your PC and bring up your VPN before diving into the streaming services. You trawl for a while, switching out locations on occasion, just to make sure you weren’t missing out on any region exclusives. With every flip between regions, you see the same set of films over and over, but one series sticks out for you more than the rest.

Scream.

Miguel knocks softly and you feel your heart rate soar as you mentally prepare yourself for him to enter your bedroom. You take a deep breath and clear your throat. You throw yourself back against your pillows, folding your legs to the side you go, trying to act natural.

“Come in!” You call, hopefully not loud enough to wake your catatonic brother.

Miguel inches the door open, struggling to get his large frame through the doorway and you suppress a giggle. It certainly didn’t help that he had decided to bring half of your pantry into the bedroom, as well as water, some beer, and napkins with the little ghost motifs that you bought especially for the party.

“Need a hand?

“I got it. Get the movie started,” he grumbles, his pride clearly preventing him from letting you help. He makes room on your nightstand and sets down the snacks and drinks, managing to do so without dropping a single thing.

You shake your head and crawl to the end of the bed, your room so small that your desk is well within reach as you lean forward to click play. You make sure to lean forward just right that you know Miguel has a perfect view of the way the suit fits snug against your ass. You hear the not-so-subtle way Miguel’s breath hitches behind you, followed by a fake cough, as if to cover it up.

“Hope you don’t mind; I went for a semi-classic.” You say as you turn to see him frozen in place, the bulge in his suit noticeable, but you don’t linger on it. You’re more interested by the way Miguel’s eyes are wide, his jaw slack as he stands there mesmerised.

“Earth to Miguel?”

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s ok, I don’t mind.”

You crawl back up to the pillows and settle down in the middle of the bed, knowing Miguel will have a hard time staying on the bed if he doesn’t cuddle up next to you. You pat the bed as the opening credits start to roll and Miguel obeys your silent demand. It’s like he’s in a trance, his movements are slow, measured as he settles in next to you.

“Shame we didn’t have more time to talk tonight.”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper as you concede a little more room on the bed so Miguel can settle comfortably. He has his hands in his lap, no doubt trying to obscure his boner as he stares forward, seemingly laser focused on the film.

“Yeah, you were so busy. S’good to see you having fun though.”

“You have a good time?”

You lean over Miguel to grab two of the European lagers he brought in and a bag of your favourite chips. You’re being way too forward; you know it, he knows it, but neither of you want it to stop.

You hand him a bottle and twist the cap off your own as you pop open the bag of chips. You take a slow swig of the beer, the condensation from the bottle dripping over your lips and down your chin. You chuckle and wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“You’re making this awful difficult.” Miguel grumbles as you set your beer down on the other nightstand before looking over to see him smouldering down at you. His eyes are glassy, his lips parted as he loops his arm around your shoulders.

“Making what difficult?” You ask as you bat your eyelashes up at him, leaning into his embrace as you tilt your head up.

“Keeping your promise to Jason.”

His voice is strained as he places his beer bottle down, not looking away for a second. You smile to yourself at the fact he’s probably able to sense the placement of the coaster or something, one of his many Spider-skills.

You wonder what else he can sense.

“That promise was made months ago, Miguel. And under different circumstances.”

“That so?” He murmurs as he reaches up to cup your face, hesitating long enough that you grab his wrist and press his hand to your cheek for him.

“I thought you were just a hot piece of ass back then.”

“Oh yeah? And what am I to you now?”

“A hot piece of ass,” you start, a wide grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as Miguel’s plush lips curve up in amusement. “But I also like you, Miguel. Like, really like you.”

“I like you too, and you’re not too awful to look at either.”

Your eyes go wide in faux outrage as you swat at his chest with a flat hand.

“You wanna go and sleep on the floor next to my brother, O’Hara? Because I can arrange that.”

You pout up at him, your hand still lingering on his chest. You can feel his heart racing under the suit, reverberating through your fingertips and sending ripples of warmth through you. Your thighs clamp together in an attempt to soothe the ache building in your core.

“No, don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

“Good.”

The hand cupping your cheek moves up gently to push back the hood of your costume. You know your hair is a mess underneath, but you don’t care. You mirror his actions and slip your fingers under his mask, his skin is hot under your touch, and you pull the mask off gently.

His hair is a perfect mess of wavy locks, somehow undeterred by the night under a tight mask. You smirk to yourself as you scoot closer, your knees firmly pressed against his thigh.

“So, you’re the man under the mask, I didn’t expect Spider-Man to be Latino.” You chuckle gently but Miguels’ body goes rigid, and you realise the slip-up too late.

“What did you say?” Miguel’s voice is tight. His hands fall from your face as he sits up, looking at you with a furrowed brow.

“That I didn’t expect Batman to be Latino?”

You try in earnest to sell the lie, but you’re panicking now. This fuck-up could ruin everything.

“I think you said Spider-Man.” Miguel’s tone is flat as he stares at you, pushing you to say something.

“That’s weird, I meant Batman. No idea where Spider-man came from!”

“Yeah, weird.”

There’s an awkward silence as you realise you’ve killed the mood. You feel the sting of rejection under your skin, burning through you as you force yourself to look back at the film. You shift over on the bed, giving him space as you try not to spiral, but you can already feel bitter tears burning at the back of your eyes. You can’t hold it in any longer, so you pause the film.

“I’m going to go clean up and put on some other clothes,” you say, voice trembling as you try not to look at him. “There’s a pair of your sweatpants and one of your hoodies in the second dresser drawer from that time I got caught in the rain after work.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, quickly hopping off the bed and grabbing your sleep shorts and an oversized Iron Heart t-shirt. You shut the door behind you quietly before making your way to the bathroom.

~*~

Miguel seethes as he sits on the edge of the bed, his clothes laid out next to him as he slowly peels off the suit. He’s pretty sure it was an honest mistake. You couldn’t know his secret, could you?

His fangs and claws extend out as he gets more and more worked up. His paranoia might’ve just cost him the chance to finally cross over from being your best friend to being something more.

“Pendejo.”

He curses himself as he strips down to his boxer briefs, piling the suit next to the nightstand and pulling on the sweatpants. It’s only when he pulls the hoodie over his head that he smells you on his clothes. His lips part as he pulls the garment on, your scent surrounding him like a warm embrace as he feels his cock twitch.

He hears the doorknob jostle as you make your way back into the room. He turns away quickly, trying to force his fangs and claws to retract. He manages it just as you shut the door behind you, any evidence of his affliction hidden before you can see.

His heart clenches in his chest as he takes in the way your eyes are glassy, rimmed with red. You’ve been crying and he feels like a pit has opened up beneath him.

Miguel closes the distance between you in one long stride. He falls to his knees before you, cupping your cheeks as he looks up at you with such sorrow it threatens to break your heart.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” he breathes as he rubs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Nothing to apologise for. It’s not your fault I misread the situation. I get it, let’s just watch the film.” Your heart feels like it’s being crushed in a hydraulic press as you try to put on a brave face.

“That’s not it,” he says with a soft exhale. “I just- I’m scared.”

“I am too Miguel. I’ve never felt so strongly about someone, let alone this quickly. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. I promise.”

Your heart clenches at that, knowing that he can’t make that promise – not with who he is. Neither of you can be fully honest, but you can’t wait any longer. You’ll take his word for now.

“Take me to bed.” You whisper as you turn your head in his hands, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to the base of his thumb.

Miguel gets to his feet without a word, lowering his hands from your face. He laces his fingertips through your own and pulls you gently towards the bed. He sits down on the edge, legs spread wide as he makes room for you to stand between them. The navy sweatpants do nothing to hide the sizeable bulge of his erection and you can’t help but stare as Miguel chuckles.

“We’ll take it slow, don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, I really want to.” You breathe as you lift yourself up, manoeuvring yourself to straddle his thighs. You drape your arms over his shoulders as you lower yourself onto his lap.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers as you lean forward, noses touching as you nod.

“Please.”

Your lips messily collide as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him as you grind down on his cock. His other hand engulfs the back of your head, fingertips digging possessively into your neck.

You lick against the seam of his lips and the feral snarl that escapes his mouth has you whining as you press your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues clash as you grind down harder on his cock. Your fingers tug and pull at the soft curls at the base of his skull and he bucks up against you as he pulls your bottom lip between his own.

“Too many clothes,” he growls against your lips as he plays with the hem of your t-shirt. You nod frantically as you hold your arms up, letting him peel your t-shirt off in one swift action.

‘A little too swift’ you think to yourself, but all conscious thought is blocked out as you feel the brush of Miguel’s plush lips on your right breast, followed by the press of his broad, warm palm on the other. You groan as he palms your skin, taking your nipple between his teeth as he flicks the hardened peak with his tongue.

“So beautiful,” he groans against your skin as he rolls his hips up, grinding up against your clothed core.

“Fuck- feels so good,” you whine as the wetness between your legs grows. You’re sure to have left a damp patch on Miguel’s crotch by now.

“God, you’re so fucking handsome,” Miguel mumbles almost bashfully. You feel a wave of euphoria wash over you as you pull his head back to look down at his dark eyes splintered with red.

“You called me handsome.” You breathe as tears well in your eyes.

“Is- Is that ok?” he asks as he looks up at you, eyes full of doubt.

“It’s more than ok – it’s perfect,” you say as you cup his strong jaw in one hand and tug on the hem of his hoodie with the other.

“Too many clothes,” you say with a wink before you start to yank the material over his broad torso.

The moment your bare chests connect, you’re done for. He’s so broad, his skin searing hot against yours as you rake your fingernails down his back, fusing yourself to him as his lips latch onto your neck, sucking hungry marks into your flesh as pleasure streaks across your vision.

“Miguel,” you whine as you pull him away. You can’t stand to wait any longer.

“What is it? What do you need?”

“You.”

In one surprisingly graceful movement, you slip off his lap and shimmy your sleep shorts down, turning to give Miguel a bit of a show. You’re rewarded with a low hum as you hear him shift behind you.

Before you have the chance to turn and see what he’s doing, you feel his presence behind you, just like when you were filling up the chip bowls at the party. His large hands splay across your exposed skin possessively, fingertips digging into your hips.

“Gotcha.”

This time, you don’t playfully fight back. This time, you let him pull you back against him. You whine softly as his larger form curls around you, his lips brushing against a spot just below your ear as he presses the length of his dick against the seam of your ass. It’s sticky and wet with precome and you tremble as his tip ghosts over the rim of your asshole.

You arch back into him, pressing against him a little too hard as you feel a small stretch of the tight ring of muscle. Miguel shudders behind you as he pushes your hips forward.

“Way too eager, gatita. Where’d all that fight go, huh?”

“Who says this isn’t part of an elaborate plan, Big Stuff?”

You turn your head to the side, angling your face up to press your lips to Miguel’s jaw. You bring one hand up to cup Miguel’s face, pulling him in to kiss you as you reach around behind you with the other to trail along his length. He’s thick, his soft velvety skin confirming your suspicions that he’s uncut. You can’t get a good grip from this angle, not that it matters because as soon as he feels your touch, he snaps.

Miguel groans against your lips before dipping his tongue inside your mouth, giving you no warning before he spins you around and hoists you up around his waist. He turns around to drop you onto the bed, his large form pressing down on top of you as he kneels between your legs.

Your eyes roam over his sculpted pecs and hard abs, then you see his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s beautiful.

“Like what you see?” Miguel chuckles as he squeezes the base of his cock in one hand before slowly pulling back his foreskin to reveal his weeping tip.

“You really have to ask?” you purr as you grab his free hand, spreading your legs wider and guiding his large fingers to your slick folds.

‘Fuck’ is all Miguel can manage before he’s hoisting your calves over his shoulders.

Once again, he’s moving a little too fast, getting sloppy as his desire takes over the logical part of his brain.

His breath ghosts against your thighs and you squirm as he parts your lips with his thick fingers before running them up to your clit, pressing firmly against the swollen bud as you hiss at the burst of pleasure that rocks through you.

“Please Miguel, just fucking eat my pussy already,” you huff impatiently, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. His eyes lock onto yours as he licks a long, slow stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste, sending low vibrations through your cunt.

He devours you slowly, savouring every twitch of your body, every drop of your arousal as he fucks you with his tongue, the thick muscle pressing deep inside you. You clench around nothing as he moves back up to your clit. He rolls his tongue around it torturously slow as you buck your hips up to chase the friction.

Your legs begin to tremble as he suckles on your clit and brings a finger up to your entrance, pressing slowly into you as you bite your lip, suddenly remembering your sleeping brother in the other room. You clamp your legs around Miguel’s shoulders as you feel yourself getting close. The way his finger curls and presses into your g-spot is almost too much as you whimper pathetically at every push of his finger inside you and every flick of his tongue against your clit.

“Miguel.” You cry out, unable to stop yourself this time as your vision splinters and blurs as the tight coil of pleasure in your core snaps. You come hard around him, your pussy clamping down on his finger as he continues to suck on your clit, his tongue licking hard, broad strokes as you quiver and tremble beneath him.

You’re about to push him away, overstimulation getting too much, but he preempts you as he rocks back onto his knees. He removes your legs from his shoulders with a feather-light touch. His hands ghost up the outside of your thighs and he smiles down at you, slick covering his lips, his chin, even his nose and you feel the heat rise up in your cheeks as you realise how much of a mess you made.

“C’mere.”

You hold your arms out, beckoning him into your embrace and he leans down slowly, his broad hips forcing your thighs apart a little as his dick rests heavily against your cunt. Miguel rests his elbows either side of your head as he leans in to kiss you. Your lips brush for less than a second before you’re running your tongue across his lips, tasting yourself before his tongue slides over your own. You moan as they meet outside of your mouths, twisting together between you.

Your slips slot back over one another as you feel Miguel’s dick twitch and you grind up against him, desperate to have him inside you. You let him claim your mouth as his large form presses you into the bed. It’s overwhelming in the best way, he never lets his full weight rest on you, but it’s just enough to make you desperate for more.

“Fuck me.”

You whisper against his lips as you both come up for air. His dark eyes seem to bore into your very soul as he smirks at your request. He shifts his balance, freeing up a hand to cup your face as he presses his forehead against yours. You smile at the gentle gesture as you loop your arms around his neck, holding you together in the surprisingly tender moment.

“You got condoms?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“I’ve got an IUD, and I recently got screened, came back all clear.”

“I did too, funnily enough, and it came back clear as well. Do you trust me?”

You share a look, realising that this was always going to happen tonight, no matter what, you’d both come prepared for this moment. You’d passed the point of no return the moment his hands fell to your hips at the start of the party.

“With my life.”

His smile is infectious as he bites his lip almost bashfully. He returns his attention to his cock and he looks up at you with a hesitant look.

“I’m not small, so please, let me know if it’s too much, ok?”

“I will.”

Miguel pulls back, looking like he wants to say something else, but he seems to mentally shake himself before moving his hand down your body. He brushes his knuckles against your nipples before trailing his fingers along your sternum before shifting slightly on the bed as he grabs the base of his cock. He lines it up at your core and you nod firmly up at him as he hesitates.

The stretch is blinding as he presses his tip in, just enough to make you squirm, desperate for more but already feeling the hot burn as he opens you up. You pant and whine as he eases in further, pausing every so often to let you adjust. All the while you twist your fingers in his soft locks at the nape of his neck. Your fingertips scrape against his scalp as he finally bottoms out.

You’re impossibly full and you feel another orgasm building from just being stuffed with his cock. But you need more, you need him to move. Your hot breaths mingle together, the pair of you panting desperately as you wrap your ankles loosely around Miguel’s waist.

“Gotta go slow, can’t risk waking Jason if we start banging the headboard against the wall.”

“Makes sense.” You whisper, a giggle bubbling in the back of your throat at the somewhat bizarre nature of it all.

The moment he begins to move you’re already fighting the urge to moan, to cry out and scream his name as you feel the heavy weight of him rake through you. He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls almost all the way out. He seems to hesitate and before he can ask if you’re ok you pressure your heels against the small of his back as you pull him down by the shoulders to kiss you.

You fist one hand in his hair, dropping the other to your clit so you can start urging yourself to the edge. You gasp as Miguel obeys your silent demand, rocking his hips forward to fill you up again. The combined pleasures of your fingers on your swollen bundle of nerves and Miguel stretching you out has you groaning into his mouth.

Your tongue assaults his, claiming his mouth as he claims your cunt with his cock. His thrusts get faster, just enough momentum to have you bucking your hips up every time he seats himself fully inside you. It’s merciful that he isn’t so big that your cervix isn’t taking a beating even on the deeper, harder thrusts.

“Fuck Miguel you’re fucking perfect, so fucking perfect.” You babble as you come up for air, you look down to see where you connect, and your head falls against his shoulder as you watch his length pump in and out of you. It’s pornographic how wet you are, and how easily he splits you in two.

“No, that’s all you baby, been dreaming about this and none of them compares to the real thing. You’re so fucking hot, and ‘feel so fucking good.”

Miguel’s voice is a whisper in your ear as he nips gently at your lobe, sucking the soft flesh as he snaps his hips hard. You bite into his shoulder hard, unable to control your strangled moan as he hits your g-spot again and again as his thrusts become harder, faster.

You almost worry about the noises your bed is starting to make as he seemingly forgets about the whole “being quiet” idea.

But the way pleasure is dripping down your spine like hot wax, pooling and overflowing with every circular motion over your clit, every deep, rolling thrust of Miguel’s cock inside you, you couldn’t care less who heard you.

Sweat beads on your brow as you cling to Miguel with one hand, digging your nails in deep enough to break the skin. He growls deep in his chest at this, and all notion of being quiet lays in tatters as he ruts into you so hard you see stars. You’re coming hard around his cock as you rub frantically at your clit.

His lips find yours as he stills inside you, his body quivering as he licks into your pliable mouth. With every jerk of his hips, you feel the warmth of his spend leaking out of you as you languidly drag your tongue over his. You tug him just that little bit deeper with your ankles, pulling him impossibly tight as you groan into his mouth.

You break the kiss as you feel him softening inside you. You run your fingers through his damp locks as he beams down at you, breathing heavily through his nose. You stay there for what seems to be an eternity before sense tells you to get up and pee.

“Alright, as much as it’s a romantic cliché to fall asleep in each other’s arms, I need to clean up first.”

He laughs and places a soft kiss to your nose before easing back out of you. You can’t believe how empty you feel as your combined spend leaks out of you and onto your sheets. You dress quickly and pop your head out into your living room, the heavy snores of your brother a relief as you tiptoe over to the bathroom. Miguel follows soon after you’re done, and you give him a chaste kiss as you leave him to tidy up himself.

You grab a throw blanket from the end of the sofa and drape it over your brother before heading back into your room.

You sit in the middle of the bed, back against the headboard as you sip on one of the bottles of water Miguel brought in earlier. You consider restarting the film, but the moment he walks back in there’s nothing else on your mind.

His hair is slicked back, the smell of your soap wafting through the air.

“Hey.” You squeak as you look at him with fresh eyes.

“Hey, any room on the bed for me? Or you going to throw me out on to the street now you’ve had your wicked way with me?”

“Dunno, you’re a pretty good lay O’Hara,” you cock your head as you pretend to consider your options. “I think I’ll keep you around for now.”

“What an honour,” Miguel chuckles as he eases himself onto the bed, both of you choosing to ignore the wet patch you’d decided to cover up by folding the comforter over it.

You shift over to give him room, only to snuggle into his side as soon as he gets comfortable. You wrap your arm across his chest and hook one of your legs over his thigh. He leans back and drapes an arm around you, pulling you in tight.

“So, do you want to start the movie again?” Miguel whispers into your hair as he rests his chin on your head.

“Sure, I’m not tired all of a sudden,” you say with a breathy laugh.

You roll over and grab a small remote from your nightstand and rewind the stream. Miguel gives you a funny look and you grin sheepishly up at him.

“So you didn’t need to bend over and show me your ass earlier?”

“Maybe,” You say with a playful lilt to your voice, “But you’re glad I did right?”

“Course, I’d do anything to see you bent over like that, gives me some ideas for next time.”

“Next time eh?” You feel your stomach flip at the thought of being with Miguel like this again.

“Mhm, unless you have any objections?”

“None at all, now watch the film.” You protest, huffing as you realise you’ve missed the iconic “Do you like Scary Movies?” line.

“Yess Boss.” He breathes as he does as he’s told. The pet name has you grinning like a Cheshire Cat as you try and focus on the film.

You still can’t quite believe you actually fucked your brother’s best friend, and you can’t ignore that this whole situation will cause issues for you all going forward.

But right now, all you want to think about is how tightly pressed you are against your favourite person in the whole world. And how no matter what, you’re going to make this work.

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me! [AO3 link]

71 notes · View notes

ashlingiswriting · 2 months

Text

do i know you? chapter nine

gifsource

[ chapter nine — 8.5k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight ] "i never fucking asked you to!" richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

just outside your apartment building stands mikey, hunched against the wind and smoking. he gives you a friendly nod and you grant him a nod in response, guarded but polite.

you never know what you’ll get with this guy. he alternates between foul moods that verge on frightening and a brilliant good temper that tempts you to shine your phone in his eyes to see the confirmation of pinprick pupils. he has moderate nights, but they’re becoming rarer and rarer.

still, his company beats the emptiness of your apartment. like a creature taken to a faraway zoo, you haven’t acclimated to your new environment in chicago, haven’t learned how to take this much loneliness; that’ll come later.

for now, you’re still standing on your separate little patches of sidewalk, familiar strangers engaged in tacit truce, when it comes flying out of nowhere.

fuck.

mikey snarls it so savagely that you look over for threat assessment, just quick enough to catch him looking up at the pitiless hard sky, profile: once-broken nose, twisted mouth, adam’s apple. wild gleam of desperate dark eye, more startling than the snarl. sudden rage from a man is no surprise, but this one looks worse. this one looks caged.

you can sympathize with that.

what? you say gruffly.

his eyes shutter, his jaw pulses. nothing.

you shrug, turn away. resume the truce.

in your peripheral, you can see him looking down and firing off a text. and you think that’s it, that’s all, but then he turns to you and says, you’re good at getting people to fuck off, yeah?

his voice is the voice of a friend, low and familiar, warm and a touch wry. his dark eyes the same. you’re looking at each other directly and it feels like a touch.

a laugh startles out of you. you’ve been pretty direct about rejecting his attempts at conversation, belligerent, sweet, or otherwise. but here he goes again, trying, and you’re tempted.

mikey turns so he’s facing you, chucks his cigarette, and sticks his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his big gray hoodie. for some reason, that does it.

yeah, you say, i’m a world-class expert at getting people to fuck off. they should be giving me tenure, the way i could teach that shit.

then you’re the one i wanna talk to.

you’ve got nobody else in this godforsaken city except patients and threats, and so it’s probably a side effect of loneliness, nothing to do with the man himself, but still: it feels good that somebody wants to talk to you.

you hesitate, fighting it. he exhales.

who’s after you? you say. debt collector? ex?

my brother, actually. there’s an odd space, flicker grimace, between brother and actually. he’s not proud of this. again, you can sympathize.

why do you want your brother to fuck off?

he says nothing, rubs his shoe against a lump of hardened gum on the asphalt. ‘s complicated.

with that, your sympathy—never in abundant supply to begin with—goes down the drain. if he’s gonna play the whiny teenager, making you beg him for his deep dark secrets, fuck it. compassion isn’t your style anyway.

okay, you say flatly. you turn towards the street, keeping him in your periphery just in case. the silence grows heavy, but you ignore it.

fuck it, he mutters. then, louder, it’s not that complicated. carmy’s the baby, and ma was always telling us to keep him out of trouble. i guess it stuck.

that’s such an innocuous way to put it, pulled from childhood. what about the rage from earlier, his trapped eyes? sense tells you to end things here. don’t be a trash bag for this man’s problems, whatever they are.

the thing is, though. it does feel good to have somebody talk to you like you’re a person.

what’s the trouble? you say.

he sighs, settles in. you ever seen a house on fire?

no, i’ve seen a helicopter on fire, but that’s…you look over at him, and you can tell it’s not the flames he’s talking about. no. you?

sort of. he pauses, and the silence is full enough that you know to wait for the coming story. so when i was little, i used to sneak down to the basement, right? i was supposed to be babysitting carmy and sugar, putting them to bed and all that good shit, but some nights i’d get bored. and they never got in much trouble without me.

they must’ve been pretty well-behaved kids, you say.

he laughs. he’s beautiful when he laughs, you can’t help but see it. not exactly.

i’m just saying, if my brother told me to stay anywhere, i would’ve been out the window by the time he’d gotten down the stairs.

mikey gestures with his cigarette at exactly the wrong moment, and the wind snuffs out his cigarette, but he’s so caught up in his story, he doesn’t even notice.

nah, i knew how to play it. sugar was going through this phase where she was fixated on us taking her seriously, so she loved the responsibility. and what was carmy gonna do about it? he was like five. he smiles, remembering. so anyway, before i would go down there, i’d put on my little light up sneakers, cause the stairs to the basement were dark and scary.

you find yourself smiling too. you can picture it.

and my mom would be down there in the dark, watching the tv, sitting in my dad’s old chair. she was usually drunk or sleeping, but sometimes i think she noticed i was there with her and she was okay with it. or, i don’t know. he laughs, short and sharp. she definitely never changed the channel on account of me. i saw all kinds of crazy shit on tv before i was twelve.

mikey pauses, then looks to you. what the fuck am i even talking about? there’s no real embarrassment in it, only appealing self-deprecation.

it works on you. you do want to know where this is going. house fire.

house fire, he echoes, pointing at you. okay, so one time i’m sitting on the floor next to dad’s chair, leaning on it, and i fall asleep. i wake up to this woman screaming. at first i think it’s real, but then i realize it’s from the tv, right? there’s a house on fire. the whole neighborhood is standing there watching, and there’s this old woman screaming, but they don’t look sorry for her. and after a second i figure out what she’s saying. she’s screaming at the firefighters to go in. and i didn’t get it, like, why is no one listening to her?

it scared him, you think. it must have. someone was in there?

i don’t know, i never found out, mikey says. mom woke up, and she saw that i was freaked out, so she got super fuckin angry and, uh. made me go to bed and all that. standing there and holding a cold cigarette, he looks tired. but when i was walking to the stairs, the woman stopped screaming. so i looked back and i saw on the tv that the house was gone. the whole thing collapsed. the roof must’ve caved in.

the silence lingers, then mikey looks across at you like a question. why should it matter whether you understand? why should you care? but your heart is in your throat.

it was right for the firefighters to stay outside, because if they’d gone in, they would have died. the roof was always going to crumble. whatever was inside the house, it was already gone.

you think you understand. so you’re inside the house.

nah, mikey says, i’m the house.

in the aftermath of christmas eve—gold chain, two generations, soup—christmas itself passes quietly without hurting much.

save for a handful of texts, completely unexpected.

> what’s the fastest way to infect people with food poisoning?

richie, of course. you don’t even bother to play coy by letting a few minutes elapse, like you had something better to do. he wouldn’t be fooled by that. he already knows better.

> it’s that bad?

> not fatal food poisoning, just the regular kind.

> it’s that bad? x2

> i think if we all threw up a lot we’d be having more fun.

> you want me to fake an emergency? pull a fire alarm, stage a bomb threat? i’ll drive the getaway car.

> your mind jumps to terrorism way too fast. you’re just looking for an excuse, aren’t you.

> seriously.

> you’re the third guy. it’s al qaeda, then isis, then you.

> seriously, get out of there. come get an unfrozen burrito, if you’re hungry.

no reply. not even three dots to show he’s drafting. with your left hand, you drum a nervous beat on your kitchen table, and with your right, you send another text.

> you can bring sugar and carmy with you.

and there they are, those three dots. you don’t know if you’re more worried about what will happen if he takes up your offer, or what will happen if he turns it down. you don’t talk about carmy to richie, though richie talks about carmy to you. he knows that. you like tina and you don’t mind his other coworkers, but you avoid the berzattos like the plague. richie knows that too. your reasons are your own, but if it really comes down to it—

> it’s fine. all the people i want to save wouldn’t fit in the car anyway.

relief. yeah, that’s relief, and you feel a little guilty for it, but it’s just easier this way: you in the kitchen and no one else.

> you have jumper cables in your trunk, don’t you? just tie pete to the top of the car like a christmas tree

> like i’d bring pete.

> cold hearted, that’s what you are.

nothing. no typing, no read 7:12pm, nothing at all. after fifteen minutes, you give up and toss your phone on your bed. drink your tea, though it has gone cold. try not to think about whatever’s happening in that other kitchen. try not to think about how close by it is, or how far.

the day after christmas, you’re so busy thinking about richie that you almost deliver yourself to the feds on accident.

walking to your boss’s house without an invitation is never a good idea, doubly so when your boss deals his displeasure in blood, but after so long without pay, work, and news about your carbon monoxide poisoning patients, you’re desperate. the idea is that you’ll barter your knowledge of howie and kevin’s stupid shenanigans in exchange for information. maybe you’ll even ask for severance pay.

that’s why you’re thinking of richie. you’re trying to keep calm, and he’s something to look forward to. you wonder how he’s doing ice fishing with carmy. will they get frostbite? maybe. will they catch anything? doubtful. will they end up shouting? definitely. will—

you’re just about to take a left onto the caruso’s street when you see it: about nine or ten houses down, there’s a gaggle of suburban moms gawking at the caruso house, and beyond them, cop cars.

this is it.

your stomach drops, and you look away immediately, heartbeat going full jackhammer about to drill through your concrete chest. keep walking straight, past the scene. you only got one glance before the instinct to flee kicked in, but you’re pretty sure that the cops were carrying heavy cardboard boxes out to their cars. you’re not worried about what evidence they might find—tweety bird wouldn’t let contraband be stored in her pantry, not in a million years—but you are worried that the cops were all a matched set. the navy windbreakers? that’s fed fashion. that’s.

yeah. this is it.

when you get on the bus, some part of you is surprised the driver even allows it. the end’s not here, but it is coming. only a matter of time.

as you get off one bus and get on another, taking a circuitous route in a useless effort to try and allay the feeling of being hunted, your dread coalesces into nausea, the kind you get when a headache or period cramps are left untended too long. it’s physical. you focus on the fraying cuff of your hoodie, and all you want to do is lie down.

you’ve expected the world to end for a long time, so you know exactly what to do. you’ve done research. you’ve imagined it all in excruciating detail, and you’re not bothered by the unknown, except for richie.

richie’s the one unknown. imagining the end of the world with him was so unbearable that you could never force yourself to go through with the exercise of imagining it, and you kept him at arm’s length just enough to pretend that the end of the world would somehow leave him untouched. now that shit’s real, you can’t pretend anymore. when it comes to richie, you’ll be flying blind. you could kick yourself. you could k—

your work phone rings. it’s your landlady. you ignore it, but she rings again and again and again. finally, she texts you.

> please come up to the office as soon as you can. we have discovered irregularities with your october and november payments, and unless this is fixed soon, we’ll have to explore our legal options.

your landlady was not the one who typed that message. if she’d been the one typing, it would’ve looked something like get your ass up here, give or take a few typos.

so yeah, there’s cops after you. this is it.

when you call your brother from a newly purchased burner phone, he answers immediately. what’s up?

it’s julie.

okay, he says very flatly. one nice thing about your family: minimum talking, minimum fuss. he doesn’t say a thing about the years past. he just repeats, what’s up?

i’m probably going to prison for a while, you say.

how long?

should i be insulted that you’re not surprised?

he says nothing. you don’t know what you expected, really, but you hate that you’ve become the talkative one.

stifling your annoyance, you say, like ten years max? it’s not like i killed someone, but i’m in with some assholes. i don’t know, i haven’t talked to a lawyer yet.

silence on the other end.

you pinch the bridge of your nose, nausea swelling. you can picture him, your one and only sibling, even though you know the picture must be outdated: broad-shouldered like you are, annoying, tall, decked out in some kind of colorless athleisure and the eternal baseball cap, slanted eyes narrowed even more than usual in judgment and exasperation.

are you there? you finally say.

you need bail? he says abruptly.

god, you want so badly to give him a shove, knock the stiffness out of him. no. no money. not from you, not from mom, not from anyone. that’s why i’m calling. if anyone finds out about this, just keep them out of it, yeah?

yeah.

that’s where you should shut up, unless you want feelings leaking into it, but today’s a day of helplessness and this conversation is no exception.

you say, a little desperate, i don’t want anyone near this one.

i got it, pebbles. with his particular mix of sardonic affection and condescension, the fog around you lifts, and there he is standing in front of you. you can see him clearly: pissed off at you now and probably forever, but still family. not much. but not nothing.

suck my dick, you say, awash with relief.

he snorts. and adieu.

you hang up on each other at exactly the same time.

i’m not telling you that.

you’ve worn your lawyer down to a thin veneer of professionalism through which her palpable annoyance has begun to show. and you’re not even sorry. it gives you a certain satisfaction, a sense of getting your own back—her steely, emotionless affect was getting on your nerves before.

you put all your remaining money into her retainer check because she’s not just a lawyer, but an effective one, according to your research. so it shouldn’t matter that you don’t know what she thinks of you. shouldn’t matter, but it does. you want to know her judgment, one way or another. maybe it’s because this is the first time you’ve told the full story to anyone.

or at least, as close as you’re ever gonna get to the full story.

i’ve already explained confidentiality to you, she says.

i already knew that you’re not gonna snitch on me unless i’m about to commit another crime, you say. but i’m still not telling you.

all right. let me get this straight. she spreads her hands out flat on her desk, and her wedding band clacks against the dark wood. there’s not a strand of her gray hair out of place, and her brown eyes have lost their annoyance. back to professionalism. disappointing. you’re here because you believe you witnessed federal agents bagging evidence at your employer’s house, and you believe your employer has been arrested. your employer is giovanni caruso—

hold up, you interrupt. giovanni? that’s his name?

you call him old caruso, son’s name is jack, there’s a limited number of organized crime families in the area and i happen to be acquainted with that landscape, generally speaking.

you snort. that’s so fucking funny.

if your lawyer finds you more annoying than before, she doesn’t show it. you have been working for caruso for over a year and a half in an off the books capacity as a doctor. you received biweekly payments to be on call between the hours of eight in the evening and eight in the morning, and during that time, you treated multiple gunshot wounds and other injuries, including broken bones, stab wounds, and carbon monoxide poisoning. while your clients were cautioned not to tell you their names or explain how they received their injuries, you do feel that you know enough information to be of interest to the police. you are not willing to testify.

on account of not wanting to die, yes, you say, adopting a professional tone to exactly match hers, dangerously close to mocking. you’re being an asshole for a reason. she’s tried to persuade you to testify before, and you don’t want her to try it again.

she continues unperturbed. you have been threatened with violence on multiple occasions to that end, sometimes with a weapon. so far, understandable.

now the lawyer spreads her hands out on the desk in a summary gesture.

now all of this is not necessarily as dire a predicament as you thought when you said you might ‘get ten years’. if you had proof you were coerced, i could get your sentence reduced even more, but as things stand this seems like a set of offenses that would land you around two or three years, five at the worst. you do have a medical license, so they can’t get you on practicing without. you never directly participated in any of the presumably violent crimes leading to the injuries, and you never procured the drugs and medical supplies yourself. other than the payments to your bank account, there’s not much of a paper trail because you took no notes, used neither laptop nor smartphone—yeah, you didn’t tell her about the michael and richie phone, because that would require telling her about michael and richie—and cycled through burner phones instead. so again, it will be hard for them to nail you on specifics, unless they have multiple witnesses.

i sense a ‘but’ coming, you say.

but i need to understand why you got into this in the first place.

with that, you snap. it’s been a day, and she’s using the words of a counselor with the expression of a robot. why the fuck do you care?

ma’am, she says, that glimmer of irritation just barely showing, you are paying me to defend you. i would rather not enter that fight with one hand tied behind my back.

you’re an idiot.

of course she doesn’t care about whether you’re good or bad, clever or stupid. there’s no judgment to be had. all she cares about is how defensible you are. you really are an idiot, and you’re so relieved.

with that, it flows freely.

i fucked up, you say. i was a resident at ui—university of illinois—and i was on my second to last year, everything was good. but then the carusos tried to blackmail me into getting them the medical files of one of my patients, so i freaked out and quit. it’s hard to convey to her just how much your world ended, without sounding melodramatic. in the end, you keep it brief. i burned all my bridges. but then i had no job and nothing else to do, and they knew it. shit happened, and now here we are.

she doesn’t hesitate. caruso tried to blackmail you with what?

no. that’s all, that’s it. she only gets the one word.

i can’t do my job if you’re being obstructionist.

i’m not tell you that—i’m not telling fucking anyone that. i’d rather go walk onto state street bridge and blow my brains out. there’s no way she knows what you’re talking about, but some of it must creep into your voice, because she does stop for a moment and think before pressing you again, this time with a slightly milder tone.

is it sex, violence, or money? she says.

none of the above. some money was involved, but not more than a month of rent.

you paid, or someone else paid?

all right, that’s it. you charge by the hour, right? you say.

in your current arrangement, yes.

well, the retainer’s all i got. so. you pat your hands on her desk in a brisk, final gesture. i’m gonna fuck off now, you have a think, and then tomorrow i’m gonna swing by and you can tell me what i need to know about turning myself in. in the meantime, i’m gonna go get a burrito.

for a split second, you think she’s going to argue with you, and you can pinpoint the exact moment when she resigns herself to having an unreasonably stubborn client.

you do that, she says.

as far as you’re concerned, she got the whole story. it ends with prison, the way it was always going to end. it starts the way it was always going to start too: you fucked up.

so you’re inside the house.

nah, mikey says. i’m the house.

he immediately goes digging in the pocket of his sweatpants to get his lighter, refusing to look at you. the shame is how you know this is real.

it hits you then: he’s the one you want to talk to. you distrusted him before because he was so transparently on the brink of falling apart, but now you can see that that’s just something you have in common. you’re the house. you’re the fucking house. and here he is, someone who knows what that feels like, and there’s nothing else between you. what are the chances?

what about you, mikey says, relighting his cigarette. do you have any younger siblings, or is it just the one?

the question comes unexpected, and you realize that he knows you have an older brother—that you’ve talked about your family, that you’ve been drawn in that much and that easily.

just the one, you manage to say.

ping, goes a little notification sound, and there it is, saved by the bell. he gets out his phone, and you point at it.

what? he says.

i got good news and bad news.

he looks back down at his phone, grimaces at the text, then puts it away. okay. what’s the good news?

you can’t help yourself. who asks for the good news first?

he shrugs, smiles, wide open and easy. i do.

for a second, you’re both smiling at each other. but then comes your next words.

good news is, i haven’t spoken to my family since 2019. when you say it like that, you can almost make it sound like something to be proud of. so. i really am the one you want to talk to.

shit, mikey says, looking at you.

it’s the first time you’ve thrown him off kilter, and you enjoy it.

you really are the one i want to talk to. he switches his cigarette from his right hand to his left so he can shake yours. i’m mikey.

his hand is callused and cold, but his grip is firm. it doesn’t feel perfunctory. it skitters electricity up your arm that you promptly ignore.

i know, you say.

his smile is harder to ignore. you never said what your name was, though.

you only vaguely remember rebuffing him the first time you both smoked outside together. it feels so far away now.

julie, you say. you only realize that you gave him your real name once it’s too late to take it back. his hand is warm, engulfing yours.

good to meet you, julie.

likewise.

he lets go first.

you wanna hit me with the bad news? he says.

you stick your hands in your coat pockets. bad news is: if you want him gone, you have to want him gone. you say you want him gone, but you’re still texting the kid. what’s he supposed to think?

so you’re saying i should block him? you can tell from mikey’s voice that he already hates the idea.

i’m saying you already know what to do.

i don’t! he’s almost laughing, like the whole thing is so desperate, it’s funny.

yes you fucking do, you say. you just haven’t ended it because you don’t actually think things are over for you. there’s a chance that you wake up a different person tomorrow, and that’s enough reason to postpone the end of the world, right?

he’s not laughing now. he’s not angry, either. the whole weight of his attention is on you, and he’s gone so perfectly motionless, you know you’ve hit bullseye. yeah. you really are the one he wants to talk to.

so, you say, the reason you want your brother to fuck off is not because you think you’re gonna sink to the bottom of the ocean and drag him down with you. it’s because you don’t want him to watch you floundering around, gasping for air, trying to survive. cause it’s fucking embarrasing.

okay, he says slowly, so you think i’m, what. being dramatic? it’s not a rhetorical question. he’s locked in, he’s really asking. you think the house isn’t on fire here?

you lift your shoulders an inch, wound tight, focused. honest, but not only honest. trying hard to say it right so he understands.

i don’t know you, you say. i don’t know the situation. all i’m saying is, if it’s only shame, then you’ll stay floundering in the in-between forever, fuckin miserable, never in and never out.

mikey is listening so intently, you think maybe he does hear you. maybe he does understand.

and, you know. don’t do that, you say. just let the kid in, if it’s shame. it’ll hurt, but it won’t kill you.

what if it’s not shame? mikey says. what if the house is on fire?

you hesitate. you love him?

he’s my brother. there’s years in his voice, decades. you can hear every second of them, and all you can do is nod.

yeah, you say. look away. take one last drag on your cigarette, then snuff it out before it can burn you. chuck it in the makeshift ashtray, and throw away your empty cigarette box too.

wordlessly, mikey passes his to you. you’re used to menthols, not whatever the fuck these are, but you take it because he offered. the taste is his, and the slow exhale.

is watching you, but before you can gather up enough courage to look back—he’s close now, which makes looking at him feel like a risk—his phone goes off and you try to tell yourself that that feeling is relief.

this fuckin guy, he mutters, then types a reply.

you smile to yourself over the rough affection in his voice. a private smile, all yours. you’ve lost track of time out here with him, and you’ve got no desire to find it again.

carmy’s not giving up, huh, you say.

what? it takes a second for his mind to catch up. oh, that’s not carmy. that was richie.

he’s so funny. you know you just say random names sometimes like i already know who they are?

richie’s my best friend, he explains.

and are you shaking him off too? you’re aware that this is a lot to ask, and you want the answer precisely because it’s a lot to ask.

to your surprise, mikey laughs.

richie? no. he holds out his hand, and you pass the cigarette back to him. richie’s not a guy you can shake off. his wife’s been trying to leave him for like a year, but he keeps hanging on. he’s that kind of guy.

you attempt to withhold the judgment from your voice when you repeat, for a year?

he shrugs. on and off, but it takes two to tango. it’ll work out.

okay, companionship only goes so far, no matter how much you like mikey. you’re not about to stand here and let a man tell you that keeping a woman in a marriage against her will is a good fucking thing.

it takes two to tango, but it only takes one to leave, you say. and i bet she has her reasons.

look, whatever she has, richie’s not a quitter, mikey says. fuck, i couldn’t shake the guy if i had a gun to his head.

you smoke in stony silence, thinking to yourself that this richie sounds like an absolute fucking nightmare. for a while, your thoughts and mikey’s veer off on such diverging paths that you’re almost about to make your excuses and go back upstairs, the feeling of camaraderie gone. and then.

hey, mikey says. there’s an odd note to his voice, nearly gentle. how did you shake your family, can i ask? what did you do?

you look over at him and hold that look for a long moment, fighting the urge to swallow.

there’s a lot you can give to mikey, and you’ll find out just how much in the coming year. but that. you’ll never give him that.

instead, you give him what you think he needs, what you’ve turned over and over in your mind during so many sleepless nights: the conclusion you finally came to, long ago.

you gotta make absolutely sure the house is on fire, you say. because if you’re not, if you leave your brother and live on, then you’ve done something unforgivable and you’re not even dead enough to escape.

there’s only one more thing you need to do before you turn yourself in, and despite the overwhelming urge to duck it—be a coward, find a way—you force yourself to walk all the way to richie’s apartment building. the exercise is supposed to wear you out, take some of the fight out of you, but it fails. now you’re just waiting for him with sore legs and recurring nausea.

you don’t have to wait long. one second, you’re grimly watching the smoke from your cigarette drifting upwards, and then there’s a flicker of motion down the street. you look, and there he is. richie’s coming towards you in long strides, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, a man on a mission. he’s clearly spotted you.

hey, he calls, when he’s still stupidly far away. what’s going on?

it’s okay, you want to say, but the words won’t come. as much as you’ve kept hidden from richie, you don’t like lying to him much. so you just put out your cigarette in case you need to leave quickly, and you wait.

when richie finally reaches you, he’s evidently curious, but you speak first.

how was ice fishing?

not too bad, weirdly enough. he settles in and lights himself a cigarette before continuing. maybe he’s under the illusion that this is one of your normal companionable nights, just happening in a different location. turns out carmy still sleeps better in a moving car, so i actually drove the long way home and i think it did him some good.

feels like it did richie some good too. he tried to take care of somebody and for once, it worked. you’re glad. he needed it, after that hell of a christmas.

you can sense his weary contentment, and you know you’re about to ruin it.

that’s good, you say quietly, and at the same time, richie says, what?

looking up into his face, your heart sinks right along with your hopes. his blue eyes are sharp enough.

goddammit, but he’s caught on. he knows something isn’t right, and you’re not asshole enough to try and claw back an ease that’s gone for good.

i gotta go away for a while, you manage to say.

how long is a while? he says, uneasy.

you can’t do this.

hey, he says, a little softer, and you have to look away. you shouldn’t have even come. you shouldn’t have even fucking come. five minutes with him, and you’re already fighting to keep your face under control.

can we go upstairs? it’s fucking cold. you feel exposed, visible to anyone who might drive by, and you can’t shake the rising urge to hide.

yeah, richie says. yeah, we can go upstairs. it’s not that cold out compared to your countless nights spent outside together, and he knows it, but he just opens the door for you.

the elevator ride is long and painful. you can practically smell the worry coming off him in waves, festering, so you don’t make him wait. as soon as his apartment door is shut and locked behind you, you say, how long i’m away kinda depends on the prosecutor.

you, uh. he runs a hand over his mouth, thinking. fuck. what are the charges?

we’ll see. i, uh, i have this feeling there’s feds involved. tomorrow i’m going to turn myself in.

fuck, he says again, hard. he runs his hand from his forehead back over his skull, then just stands there for a second, head half bowed and hand gripping the back of his neck. you want to comfort him, but shouldn’t. you want to run, but can’t.

instead, you take this opportunity to get in one last long stare. richie is the same as ever. his hair is dark and close-cut, his beard too. his eyebrows are scant, and there’s a ridge on his forehead as if to make up for it. his nose is straight and straightforward. there are bags under his eyes, because of course there are, but his eyes themselves are as blue as summer, so blue they’re barely believable. that’s him, that’s his face.

then there’s the eternal black leather jacket, oversized and complete with unnecessary shoulder straps for all the bags he’ll never carry. he smells faintly of smoke. he’s allowing you to stare at him, an indulgence that you can’t question without being a dick. he makes you want to not be a dick. all this is here, all this is real.

richie says, what can i do?

he looks at you, and though his voice is subdued, you can tell he’s dead serious. thank god. you thought you’d have to beg for it, but here he is, offering. you really want to know?

he nods once, tight. anything.

that one hurts, because he knows just how much a person can ask of him, and he’s standing there offering it anyway.

i want you to stay out of it.

dead silence. a muscle tics in his jaw. why?

i don’t want to make things messy. i don’t want to cause trouble, and there’s—you try to eke out a laugh, downplay it. but your laugh is raw and you can tell in his eyes that you’ve only made things worse. there’s some fuckin trouble in this.

okay. he digs out his phone, swipes a couple times, and then points at the round blue logo of the jpay app. you see this? his voice is tight. i don’t know what makes you think you’re so special, but this isn’t the first time i’ve had a friend catch a charge and it probably won’t be the last. so you don’t need to look so freaked out, you’re not gonna infect me. i’m fine. i can help.

fucking richie. the one night you need him to be unreasonable, and here he is making arguments, using logic and shit. exasperated, you try to argue your way out of this.

you were dealing coke just a few months ago.

richie scoffs. so what?

fak found out about that, didn’t he? you give him a look. fak, richie. fak. fucking—

he raises both hands, palms spread in irritation, voice rising. would you stop saying fak?

irresistible. fak.

i don’t—

come on.

okay. he gestures widely, in an exaggerated motion used to indicate he’s the sole light of reason in a dark world of total bullshit. maybe i've been exaggerating a little. maybe fak’s not the worst guy in the world. i mean, he can be a lot. clingy, sure. but a snitch? nah. he told carmy, but carmy’s not a cop, so that's different. it’s fine. we’re fine.

i'm just saying. if fak knows and carmy knows, other people probably know too.

it’s not even relevant, richie says. so i moved a little weight, who cares?

look, i’m not trying to be a dick, but i don’t think the cops were were hunting that hard for you. if they start digging into me, that’s gonna change. cause i’m not a snitch either, and i know they’re gonna want me to flip, so they’ll leverage whatever against me, and… yeah, you can tell he’s not finding this convincing. a bad feeling is growing in the pit of your stomach. just get it over with.

there’s one surefire way to make him flinch, and you push that launch button, voice casual.

you helped michael get painkillers too, right? you say.

takes a second, but he finally admits, yeah. i knew a guy.

michael was not keeping it neat and tidy, you know what i mean? it takes so much effort to seem this careless. but it works. he looks a bit more like he should—guarded, almost suspicious.

what are you saying?

i’m saying i knew he was using within a month of meeting him. and. you can tell you’ve hurt him a little, but still, your arguments aren’t working, your wild swings aren’t working, he’s not listening to you, nd desperation wells up in you. is there nothing you can do? just, can you please stay out of this. you didn’t mean to say please, but it burst out of you. i don’t know what’s gonna go down, and i just want everyone clear of this. i know they’re coming for me, i know i’ll lose, and i don’t—i don’t want you anywhere near it all.

richie is silent for a moment, thinking hard.

you rub your thumb over your wristbone. can we just…

what’s your plan? he says. that’s what i wanna know. like, you’re not fighting here, and i don’t get it. what happens after you turn yourself in? you’re not gonna get a deal if you don’t talk, so what? you’re just gonna sit there and take the twenty-five to life?

twenty-five to life? you echo. richie, what the fuck do you think i did?

after one long moment of the both of you staring at each other, he hums a little james bond.

your face lifts into a wide, incredulous smile. you think i’m. he does. he absolutely does, look at him. you could kiss him. you could shake him. you start to laugh.

his face twists like he just got pinched hard. no, i—what do i know, man, i don't know that much about the law or whatever, i just—

twenty-five to life!

—don't get fucking offended, okay?

i'm not offended.

i'm just a well-read guy with a very active imagination, and maybe i got a little carried away, but—

his shoulders are up by his ears, he’s so defensive.

richie, you say firmly. i'm not mad.

what? there he is. finally listening. eyes looking directly at you, electric blue, raw current.

you hold that silence a little longer than you need to, just to feel it. then, deliberately giving each word its own due weight, you say, you thought i’d killed somebody, and you were gonna help me?

richie shrugs helplessly.

i thought you had your reasons, he says. i always think you have your reasons.

that shakes you to the core.

goodwill, you already knew you had his goodwill. but faith? jesus. you’re the last person on earth that anyone should believe in, but richie doesn’t know how wrong he is and you can’t tell him, so you just to stand there under the weight of his belief and try not to crumble. at this point, prison would be a fucking mercy.

you have to get out of here.

it'll be five years at worst, you say. your voice sounds strange even to your own ears, but you keep going. the feds will be shaking me like a fruit tree hoping some juicy information tumbles down, but everything i did was pretty boring. you think of the factory, the bodies laid out like so many logs. nonviolent, anyway.

doesn’t seem very james bond to me, he says you fuckin drama queen.

bottom line, you say, the thing is enough of a mess already, so just let me do my time and we can hang out after. i don't want you anywhere near this. you start heading for the door. i gotta go anyways, i have—

you serious? he cuts in, suppressed and flat. warning bells are going off in your head, but you walk on.

dead fucking serious, you say, unlocking the front door. i don’t even want anyone to know that we’ve met.

dead silence, and then, richie says, well maybe you don’t get a fucking choice.

you turn and meet his eyes. there it is again, that stomach-churning nausea that you thought you’d managed to quell. the plummeting feeling of having no control. it stops you in your tracks.

what? you say.

i mean, i’m not going anywhere, so fucking deal with it? the life has come back to his voice, and with it, all the anger. his blue eyes are sparking with it, he’s gesturing, he’s gathering momentum, and you try to stop him but you already know it’s useless.

richie—

look, i don't run when things get bad, i’m not that guy. i’m here. he smacks one hand into another. like i’m in it. that's the whole fucking point.

the point of what?

you know what i’m trying to say.

the point of what, richie?

his face twists. oh, don't do that. don't do that thing where you act like you know everything that goes on in my head.

but i fucking do, though.

yeah, well i fucking hate it.

if you hate it so much then why did you give it to me then?

his voice goes higher. i'm not just gonna drop you!

i am literally begging you to drop me. somehow, you’ve crossed the room, you’re up in his face and he’s not backing down and the words are flying so thick and fast as you talk over each other that you can barely make out yours, much less his. i want you to drop me, i specifically—i did so much shit so that you could drop me, i was so fucking careful—

i never asked you to!

i got rid of my phones and i stuck to my rules and—

i never fucking asked you to!

if you get involved, it's gonna be fucking awful and it won't help, it won't even help, if that's what you think—

i can help! i'm not, fucking useless, like. you guys always—

that one, you hear. you guys?

why don't you ever fucking talk to me? he says, like the words are getting torn out of him.

who the fuck do you think you’re talking to right now? for a second, you just look at each other. breathing hard. when you finally speak, your voice is quieter. richie, you are the only person i ever fucking talk to. but it doesn’t matter. there’s nothing anyone can do.

i don't believe you.

you don’t know how to get around that. after a beat, you say, okay, what is it, richie. cruel. what is it you're gonna do that's gonna help. you asked me to explain my plan, now it’s your turn. you tell me how you’re gonna help me with this.

fucking…he looks up for a second, and then back at you. i know what you’re doing.

you don’t even know what the fuck you’re doing at this point, but the way he’s looking at you is frightening. you could almost believe that he knows. and honestly, you don’t want to find out.

what am i doing, you say.

he turns and walks away, towards the bed. after a second’s hesitation, you follow. he sits down on the bed so he can crank open the window, light up, and smoke out of it. you stay standing. you really don’t know why you haven’t left yet. you were supposed to ages ago.

sit down, he says.

fuck you.

fucking sit down.

no.

jesus. he exhales, slow. you can see him settling a little. do you know why carmy was opening the tomato cans?

what is this, storytime?

patiently, he repeats, do you know why carmy was opening the tomato cans.

to make spaghetti.

he points at you. exactly. but the reason he was making spaghetti is cause he’d just gotten mikey’s note. deep breath. this isn’t a story he’s happy to tell you. see, mikey had left him this note on the back of a the spaghetti recipe, but i—i didn’t give it to carmy until there was this day. syd and marcus were gone. shit had gotten bad.

i remember, you murmur.

i was in the front, and i heard people yelling fire, so i came running into the kitchen and carmy was watching it all burn. just standing there. not moving. his eyes were open, but it was like he was asleep.

and that’s why you gave him the note?

yeah. i know i should’ve done it before. but.

he looks up at you, and you can see him appealing to you for some kind of mercy. maybe comfort. this is the thing he’s ashamed of. you understand that, you understand him, you understand shame better than anyone else, and there’s a sick comfort in it, knowing he’s that much more like you. at least he was able to change course in the end. you never did.

you don’t tell him that, though, because you’ve realized something else.

this is the thing he’s ashamed of, which makes it usable.

so i’m carmy, in your off-base and condescending metaphor, you say, callous. you're gonna come and save me? you're gonna put the fire out.

his eyes darken. no, you're not carmy.

no?

you're mikey.

fuck you.

so fucking selfish, he says bitterly. it’s as close to hate as you’ve ever heard from him. but you’ve gone so far, you’re not stopping now.

richie, what the fuck do you want from me?

you know what i want! his voice goes quiet when he adds, did really you think there’s anything that could keep me away from you for five fucking years?

you know what he means.

can’t put words to it, can’t accept it, can’t fucking bear it—won’t—but you do know, you know exactly what he’s trying to say to you, what he’s trying to give.

you don’t deserve it, but it’s not for you anyways, it's for michael. it's all for michael, and it would be beautiful if it wasn't such a fucking waste to love a man when he's dead. richie’s gonna throw everything he has onto the fire in the hope that it will quench the flames. that just makes it his pyre, but he’ll never see it.

okay, you say. my turn at storytime.

you sit down next to him on the bed, accept his cigarette. take a drag, then lean on the wide wooden sill as you breathe smoke out into the cold. lull him into it. relax his guard.

you thought you inherited me, right? you say. conversational. no heat. you were gonna take care of me for him, that was the plan. i’m mikey.

that’s not what i meant.

you have it backwards, is the thing. you can feel yourself sinking into it, talking like you have time, matter of fact, cruelty showing at the edges. like you’re an entirely different person, which is, of course, your goal. michael didn’t give a shit about me. i was just there. i was just a woman who happened to be conveniently close by, and lonely, and he fucked me. and that was fine, that was convenient for me too, but he got worse and it got out of hand. he got hard to be around. i found out he’d started stealing from me, so i broke up with him. he found a way to get back into my apartment anyways, and he guessed the code to my safe and stole pretty much everything. so i told him tina shouldn’t call me for help next time he overdosed. i told him he could finally die, for all i cared. and he did.

you’re looking at the sheets. you’re still able to talk, somehow. you feel numb, detached, like you’re watching yourself say it.

the only reason you know me is because i felt guilty. i was gonna take care of you for him, that was the plan, but now this is getting out of hand and i’m fucking done with it. so here goes. it wasn’t just money he stole out of my safe. go take a look in the police report. i’d bet my life that there was a sig p365 in his hand when they found him. that was mine. i’m the reason he’s dead. you want to be loyal to someone? be loyal to him.

you crush the cigarette against the fake wood of the headboard. ash falls on his pillow.

playtime’s over. stay the fuck away from me.

this time when you leave, he doesn’t stop you.

on the train, hollowed out and swaying, you are approached by an elderly woman. her eyes are rheumy, concerned.

are you okay? she says.

hm?

you’re shaking.

you look down at your hands in your lap. she’s right.

there’s nothing else to say.

[ next chapter pending ] [ masterlist ]

a huge thank you to all readers.

taglist: @garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109, @shinebright2000, @scorpiolystoned, @fancyvoidtragedy, @justficsandstuff, @fromirkwood — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #diky

50 notes · View notes

kitthepurplepotato · 3 months

Text

Shenanigans EXTRA (2/2) - Drum Contest! (THE END)

Summary: Katsuki has been struggling to propose to Y/N for months now. He comes up with a silly idea.

Shouto meets his long lost brother.

Warnings: Swear words. A lot of mentions of the naughty, but only in passing. Mentions of ding dongs. No actual smut though. 16+

Helpful note:

To make it easier I tried to play around with names to make it obvious who's who, so...

Izuku - Normal Izuku

Deku, Midoriya - Other world's Izuku

Katsuki - Normal Katsuki

Bakugou - Other world's Katsuki

I hope that helps!

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After a few minutes of silence the team finally calms down enough to actually start a proper conversation. Deku and Todoroki is sprawled out on the bed with Izuku and Shouto sitting on the edges, talking about hero life and Izuku’s battle scars.

You and your other self, together with the two Katsukis are sitting on the floor in one of the corners with your backs resting on the wall.

“So was it hard to find me in this universe?” You ask Bakugou, who looks away sheepishly with a slight blush on his face.

“Well… I had to work my ass off for months to have enough money and freedom to leave for a few weeks but funnily enough, I literally bumped into her in my first day. Then… it just happened. I barely had to do anything. It really felt like it was meant to be. Fucking freaky.”

“Yeah.” Your other self speaks up. “My friends thought I’m bonkers for meeting this random guy from another country every day to study together. But I just…couldn’t get enough of him.” She cuddles into Bakugou and you can’t hide the smile on your face as you look at the two lovesick idiots. They are so different from you two yet so similar at the same time; the love is just as deep but in a different kind of display. Their love is pure and romantic, a relationship full of hope and dreams while yours is more mature, more realistic yet just as bright, just as strong, if not stronger.

“Being in a long distance relationship really sucked.” Bakugou admits.

“Tell me about it!” Deku yells from the bed. “I was so done with waking up to you two having phone sex almost every single day!”

“Oh, shut up, we didn’t…” Bakugou is about to retort, but your other self laughs.

“No, we… did that quite a lot.”

“I knew it!” Apparently, Deku is more than happy to finally get a closure after wondering about all the weird noises coming from his best friend’s room.

“I’ve never done that.” Katsuki mutters next to you, looking offended like it’s your fucking fault.

“We literally moved in together almost right away. We work at the same agency. Damn, you live in the same building as your workplace, we literally could just run home and…”

“You did not do that. Did you?!” Izuku yelp from the bed, face beet red.

“Oh we did.” Katsuki gives him a shit eating smirk, clearly enjoying Izuku’s embarrassment.

“Going home is better than doing it in the locker room. I think.” Shouto mutters and that’s when Izuku decides he needs to get some water from the bathroom. He’ll be really disappointed when he realizes he can’t flush himself down the toilet.

“Fuck, I have band practice. I need to go soon.” Bakugou suddenly jumps up and takes his bag with him; there are two drumsticks sticking out of the side, quite battered by the look of it.

“If you tell me you play the drums I’m changing sides. The other me can take over Katsuki for me. He won’t know the difference.”

Damn, Bakugou Katsuki is a hot ass man anyway but drummer Bakugou Katsuki? Hot damn. Even the thought of it makes you feel all warm in all the inappropriate places.

“First of all, fuck you.” Katsuki retorts, flabbergasted. “Second of all, I would know the fucking difference. You look and act completely different, just how me and the blondie are different in a lot of ways. Third of all, if you think this bozo can outplay me with those chicken legs, you are really fucking stupid. I might not have a drum set at home but I do know how to play. I played drums since I was 11.”

“You play the drums?!” You can’t help but yell loudly. How did you not know that?! How?!

“He played the drums on the school festival in our first year. It was quite good.” Shouto adds.

“I can do much better than that pop shit we’ve played back then.”

“Is that a challenge, muscle brain?” Bakugou smirks, his eyes full of challenge and needless to say, Katsuki is in for the ride. “My practice finishes at 7 so see you there at 7:15. The bozos know the way.”

“If I win…” Katsuki looks at you with the same smirk. Mind blowing. “I’ll marry your fucking ass and you’ll never be able to leave me.”

Your heart leaps out of your chest. Is this really happening? Now? Like this? Well… okay. Okay, calm down, he might loose. Lol who are you kidding, THIS Katsuki? Loosing? No fucking way.

“Wipe the floor with his ass then, love.”

The way you two are eye fucking right now is downright disgusting but you can’t be bothered.

“Oh, I will, baby.”

~•💥•~

“Uhm, do you guys wanna go to Natsuo’s bar until 7?” Todoroki speaks up after Bakugou and Y/N leaves for band practice. You are a little bit offended that she’d left, but to be fair, she’s probably still extremely mindfucked by all this so it’s quite understandable she needs some space right now. She’s just a quirkless gal, she’s not used to this nonsense.

“He owns a bar?” Shouto looks up, clearly intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s half a bar and half a tattoo and piercing parlor. Quite edgy. The studio Kacchan is in is right next to it. They have open mic nights sometimes, his band plays there quite a lot.”

“Wow, your other self is quite cool, I must say.” You mumble, a little bit too infatuated with his other self for Katsuki’s liking so you get an elbow in your tummy. “Rude.”

~•💥•~

Natsuo’s bar is… sick as fuck. There is no other way to describe it. It’s massive but somehow still really homey, with dark wood covering the walls, the floor and ceiling. There are massive LED lights all over the place, red under the main counter, blue on the walls, white on the shelves full of random memorabilia, mostly old instruments and other music-related stuff like old vinyls and instrument parts, probably vintage and pricy as fuck. There is a massive doorframe on the side with hand painted curtains, blue flames and red feathers swirling together on the material. Some of the feathers are burnt by the fire, the edges black, the paint flaky, probably on purpose while some other ones are engulfed by the blue flames, just about to be burnt to a crisp and it’s the sickest design you’ve ever seen.

For some reason, you are the only one hyperventilating over the beautiful piece of art; Shouto looks like he’s about to throw up while Katsuki and Izuku just stares at the curtain like it personally offended them. You can barely see anything from their faces as “your team” is wearing a disguise to not freak out the customers but you really don’t need to be a genius to know something is wrong.

“Oh shit.” Katsuki mutters, slowly pulling Shouto towards the exit.

“Shou, let’s just chill in Todoroki-kun’s room, okay?”

Okay, what the fuck is happening.

“Can I go in?” Shouto asks Natsuo, who only nods, his eyes full of confusion.

“We told him about you, so he won’t freak out. We told our families about Y/N coming here before so… yeah, go on. He’s a bit rude but he’s harmless.”

“He’s harmless.” Katsuki mutters with a deadpanned expression on his face. “That’s… good to know.”

“Mind to explain why is everyone having a meltdown?” You whisper into Katsuki’s ear while Shouto and Izuku stomps towards the curtains.

“Dabi.” Is all he says and that’s when it hits you; Shouto is about to meet his long lost brother, Touya.

Well, shit got deep quite fucking quickly.

When Shouto pulls the curtain out of the way there are two people inside; an ash blonde, extremely handsome guy with a golden nose ring and… well… a guy who looks like a fucking fallen angel in a romantic fantasy movie.

His hair is white as the freshly fallen snow, eyelashes long and dark, his face looks almost feminine but his cheekbone is sharp and masculine, giving him an otherworldly look. You can’t lie, he’s probably the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen in your whole life. Not even the massive amount of piercings can ruin his mesmerizing look. He looks up from the random drawing he’s been working at and smirks at the deadpan hero in front of him. His beautiful face completely clashes with his mischievous attitude but that makes him even more interesting. He stands up from his desk gracefully and makes his way towards the Shouto, who just stands in one place with tears in his eyes, his face full of so many emotions now, you can’t even decipher any of them at all.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, little brother. Nice muscles, by the way.” Shouto breaks. “Hey, little one, what… what the fuck is wrong with you, oomph!” Dabi’s unable to breathe as Shouto runs into his arms, crying like he’s a little kid again. “Wooow, that’s… a hug. Okay, I’m not really a touchy person to be honest, I’m freaking out. Oi, you have a big ass scar on your face. Who did that? I’ll find ’em and kill ’em.” Shouto starts crying even more. “… uhm, with kindness, of course. Kill em’… with kindness. Yeah. Surely. Let me go, little brother. I can’t breathe.”

It’s quite cute how Touya can’t handle the situation and tries to talk up a storm to calm himself down.

“Touya, I think you are dead in their universe or something.” The ash blond guy smirks at him. “What a plotwist.”

“Hawks?!” Katsuki suddenly yells, giving the poor blond a fright.

“No, I’m Keigo.” He deadpans, utterly confused.

“Am I fucking dead?! Yo, little bro, am I? Did I go out with a blast, though?” Shouto only cries even more. “Oh no, please tell me I wasn’t born in a super powered world and got hit by a bus when I was twelve. That sucks balls.”

“Nah, you probably pulled some shit like killing half of your family out of pure spite after your mother gave you Pepsi instead of Coke.” Keigo mutters and the whole gang gawks at the guy. “Oh my god, did he?”

“Nii-chan…” Shouto sobs, still not coherent enough to make a proper sentence. He looks up at his brother and gives him a wobbly smile, stroking his cheek once then twice before he finally speaks up. “So this is how you would look like. Fuck, I think I’m having a mental breakdown.”

“Am I dead, little brother?!”

“Yes and no?” Izuku tries to help out but he looks just as choked up as his boyfriend. “Touya is gone but Dabi is alive. He’s in prison. For really bad things, but… it wasn’t your fault completely. Uhm. It’s a long story.”

“So Touya is dead but his penis is in prison?” Keigo forgoes his attempts to draw. This conversation is way too interesting for him now, that Touya’s penis is apparently involved.

“What?!” Izuku looks between the two males with nothing but confusion.

“I call his penis little Dabi.”

“You… why…” It’s Katsuki’s time to be completely bamboozled.

“Well, I pierced it so many times by now I decided to name it.”

Your gang falls silent. It’s this world’s Todoroki’s turn to freak out now.

“You pierced your… penis?!”

Touya turns into a really pretty shade of red.

“Well, we had to practice and none of you fuckers wanted a piercing so we practiced on each other! I did his nipples, he did my… Dabi.”

This conversation is wrong on so many levels and you are not even the person traumatized by that name.

“Can I… can I get a piercing from you, Touya?” Shouto gives his brother another wobbly smile and Izuku is about to pass out from the excitement.

“That’s so sweet, I’m gonna cry. Oh my god, I’m crying.”

Spoiler: He’s crying. I know. Shocker.

“Wanna get a ring like mine, baby brother? So we match?” Touya ruffles Shouto’s hair with a fond smile on his face. He looks exhilarated.

Nevermind. You are crying too. Even Katsuki has a tear stuck to his eyelashes but he tries his best to act nonchalant anyway.

“That would be nice, yeah.” Shouto laughs wetly as Touya points at the chair in the middle of the room. Shouto’s super edgy nose piercing is done before he can even breathe out an “I’m ready.” He’s quick and efficient, movements well practiced as he swabs at the fresh ring, cleaning it carefully with a proud smile on his face.

“Next time, I’ll give you a sick tattoo.” Touya daydreams, eyes looking into the distance, the fond smile still lingering on his face from a few seconds before. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you in your universe. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I might be a lost cause in that world, but tell my family that this Touya… would do anything to keep you guys safe.”

“Ok, I’m out.” This world’s Todoroki decides to leave the room, his face so neutral you really wonder if you should tell him to play poker.

“Come back, you little shit! Why can’t you be like this one, eyy! Cute and shit!”

“You would tease the shit out of me!”

“Well, duh!”

… and the mood is ruined. The whole gang laughs, loud and airy, Shouto’s face scrunches as the freshly made piercing starts to sting from the sudden motion.

Needless to say, the piercing suits him and you are extremely proud to be one of those people who know the real story behind it; a story so heartbreaking yet so full of love and affection; a story of a little brother finally finding solace by knowing that there is another Touya somewhere in the universe, content and happy, surrounded by his family who never ever gave up on him.

Shouto probably wishes his real brother could be here, too.

“Shit.” You cuddle into your boyfriend’s arms, way too emotional for your own good.

“Welcome in our world.” Katsuki mutters back.

~•💥•~

Katsuki has a confession to make. He’s been trying to come up with proposal ideas for a few months now, but none of them felt… right.

Going to a restaurant and propose is too basic. Going on a holiday and propose… well… same thing. Basic as fuck. Katsuki hates it.

Calling their whole friend group and family over is not possible, because Y/N’s family lives abroad and they haven’t even met him in person yet. Doing in front of one family and not the other would be mean, even Katsuki knows that.

The only thing he could think of that sounds almost okay is to go hiking and ask Y/N to marry him on a top of a mountain or a fucking lava but even that feels too normal for their abnormal relationship.

Okay, calling their relationship abnormal sounds extremely rude but honestly, they are not a normal couple. They’ve never been. Hell, they beat the shit out of each other in the training room almost every week. They yell at each other when then they cuddle by the TV like old people. They kick some ass on the battlefield then have aggressive sex after, praising the other about how hot they looked like when they kicked out the villain’s teeth. Sometimes they make work a challenge; whoever gets the last punch needs to uhm… make the other happy later. Don’t ask questions. Honestly, just don’t.

With that said, proposing to Y/N by winning a challenge is quite on-brand for them. They will need to redo the whole proposal in front of Kirishima otherwise he’s going to cry from being left out but Katsuki is more than happy to go down on his knees twice.

He must win today. He’s so done with carrying this fucking ring with himself just in case the time is right!

The ring he got for Y/N is actually made by his parents brand. His mom almost had a heart attack when Katsuki came over to their workshop with a bunch of silly ring designs. When Katsuki said he wants an orange diamond in the middle his father fell off his chair looking at Katsuki like he’s an idiot. Well, Katsuki knew what he wanted and he was quite aware that one small diamond cost 5 million yen (around £23000). That’s the one detail Katsuki was not willing to give up on even if his wallet will be empty for at least a few months afterwards.

So yeah, he was running around with that in his pocket for several weeks now. Hopefully, his suffering ends tonight.

“Get ready to get your ass kicked, Hero.” Bakugou smirks at Katsuki as he makes his way towards his loud ass band.

Oh no. Katsuki knows these people… well, most of them. He has no idea who the long, black haired goth guy is. Or girl. He’s not sure. Maybe something in between. Nah, Katsuki is sure he’s a guy. He looks familiar in a really weird way but he’s also quite sure he’s never met this bozo before.

“Oh my god, I thought you were joking when you said you’re bringing yourself twice.” Kaminari smirks, and he and his other self sighs.

“Annoying as always.” They mumble at the same time, the action followed by a smirk and a first bump. Kyouka laughs.

“I’ve always been wondering if other timelines exist and if they resemble each other in any way. I really want to say I got an answer but seeing how different your two selves look like I have more questions than answers. I guess I will need to live in the darkness for another day.”

NO FUCKING WAY.

No motherfucking way.

“Tokoyami?!” Izuku finally asks the million dollar question, notebook and pen already in his hands as he sneaks closer to the goth, lanky guy holding a guitar.

“I can’t take this anymore. First my long lost brother and now this?” Shouto sits down on the nearest chair, gobsmacked. “How is this even possible?”

“It makes a lot of sense actually.” Izuku goes back a few pages and reads a few notes before he speaks up again. “This world doesn’t have quirks or superpowers. Tokoyami’s appearance is connected to his power hence why he’s… different here. The real question is… how come you still have your half and half appearance? I’m quite sure your condition is extremely rare. Oh, I wish to be able to look into your genetics right now.” Izuku sighs and it sounds weirdly sexual so Katsuki decides to clear his throat before it’s too late.

“Wait a second, what’s wrong with me in your world?” Tokoyami puts his guitar down and comes closer to your little gang.

“Nothing is wrong, just…” Izuku blushes like an idiot, clearly regretting his words already.

“You are a fucking bird, Tokoyami.” Katsuki tries to help out and the joint yelp from the whole band makes him giggle like an idiot. Y/N gives him a side eye for being a cunt but he can’t be bothered. This is way too funny.

“Excuse me?” Tokoyami’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull and with that expression, he does look like his bird-self, to be honest.

“You have a head of a raven. In our world. And a human body. As weird as it sounds, it’s quite common.” Shouto adds helpfully and Katsuki is sure these bozos have never payed this much attention in their whole fucking lives.

“Pardon for the question but how do I have a love life with that face?”

“The same way you do in this world. You don’t.” Bakugou smirks and Katsuki is contemplating between giving the guy another fist bump or slapping his head for being a menace.

Tokoyami looks like he’s about to cry so Katsuki decides to go with the latter.

“So Bakubro said we are heroes in this world, so… I’m not single, right? Heroes must get a lot of chicks. That’s just how it is. In the movies.” Kaminari speaks up with hopeful eyes. Izuku looks extremely proud as he answers that question.

“While it’s true that heroes are surrounded by beautiful women and men, you’ve never really had your eyes on anyone else but your wife.”

“I have a wife?!” Kaminari cries crocodile tears as he embraces Izuku in a tight hug. “Oh my, you are so muscly. Wow. Like… no homo but I would happily go gay for you.”

Izuku blushes like a 30 year old virgin.

“Ahh, yeah, we almost had our first kiss on your and Kyouka’s wedding!” Y/N speaks up and by the look on Kyouka’s face… things are different in this world. Damn. Bummer.

“Me and Kyo? Married?!”

“Oh my god, Pikachu.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, not even surprised by this revelation. “Don’t act like you haven’t been making out in the dressing room for several months now.”

“Making out?” Midoriya joins the eye-rolling contest. “Kyouka comes to class in Denki’s shirts almost every day. They’ve been fucking for at least two years.”

“I thought she just likes his shirts?” This world’s Todoroki speaks up, flabbergasted.

“Oh, honey…” Midoriya taps his shoulders twice, not even bothering to answer him.

“Okay fuckers, now shut the fuck up and let’s hit those fucking drums! I’m so fucking ready!” Katsuki can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. He’s a man on a mission.

“Let’s do this, stupid, muscly twin. Let’s see who’s the best.” Bakugou smirks and the game is on.

~•💥•~

This is not a challenge between two friends. No. This fucking war. Both Katsuki’s take their turn to discuss their chosen song with the rest of the band privately. Everyone needs to wait in the hallway while the meeting is on. Then Bakugou comes out and Katsuki goes in. You swear there are flames under his feet as he barges through the door with determination.

“I know that look, Kacchan. You are fucked.” This world’s Deku decides to annihilate the awkward silence but making it even more awkward. Bakugou jumps in one place as a sudden realizations dawns on him.

“He will play THAT song. The bane of my existence. The one fucking song I just can’t get right. But that means he also can’t get it quite right, so… fuck, shouldn’t have played it safe.”

“Well, it’s important for him to win. And we are heroes. We never play safe. It makes sense. He wants a proper, KO win so he feels like he deserves the prize.” Shouto chimes in with a surprisingly fair answer.

“And if he doesn’t win, he’ll keep coming back until he does. Ahh, Kacchan is so amazing.” Izuku gets all red and the smile on his face is downright suggestive, it actually makes you wonder if there is more of a resemblance between him and his other self that you’ve thought.

“I will play the piano for you when we go to see Fuyumi next time.” Shouto mutters, his eyes glowing with determination.

“Ahh, that piano is really nice, isn’t it?” This world’s Deku chimes in. “My back still hurts when I think about it, though.”

Confusion. Awkward silence. Then it hits.

“You got dicked on the top of that piano.” Bakugou gawks at the boy, who tries to act all shy about it but he can’t really hide the shit eating grin on his face.

“I definitely can’t do that, there is a massive weight difference between this world’s us and uhm… us. There is also a massive difference between our family life, so doing something like that in my sister’s house would be highly inappropriate.” Shouto chimes in as well, speaking nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather.

“Shouto, I’m quite sure doing that in anyone’s house IS highly inappropriate anyway.” You try to add something to the conversation, because it’s getting out of hand. Izuku looks like he’s about the burst from embarrassment or something else, you are not sure. Thankfully the door opens and the whole band comes out, all looking pale and shaky.

“Bro. This guy… is an animal.” Kaminari stutters, making a beeline towards the closest drink machine.

“Honestly, ugly twin, give these guys a fucking challenge once in a while. They can play quite well.”

“I’m not ugly! I’m just small! Fuck you, muscle brain!” Bakugou yells with his face red. “And I do challenge them! They knew the song you are about to play, didn’t they?!”

“Yeah, and they also told me how you made them learn it then you never asked them to play it once.” Katsuki smirks and if this would be a normal world he would get an explosion to his face. But this Bakugou doesn’t have a quirk so he just pokes his other self on his side where it hurts the most. “Ouch, I think a mosquito just stung me.”

You can’t help but sigh. One Bakugou Katsuki is certainly enough for one world.

~•💥•~

Bakugou plays Basket Case by Green Day. And he looks extremely hot doing it.

You can’t believe you didn’t know they can play the drums like that. You can barely stop salivating over those muscly arms hitting the drums and this guy has half of the muscle mass your actual boyfriend does. You’ll literally pass out when it’s Katsuki’s turn to play. You also have a hard time believing he can top whatever Bakugou is doing on those drums. You are not a musician but you do have a good ear and Bakugou’s play is flawless, aggressive but precise, maybe a few mistakes here and there where he gets a bit too much into it but otherwise, he clearly has talent. Your other self also looks lovestruck as she stares at her boyfriend lovingly, eyes full of wonder and affection and damn, honestly, they are so fucking cheesy they make you burp.

Katsuki doesn’t even bother being his usual jealous self; there is a massive smirk on his face as the two swap places, his steps confident and when he looks back at you he mouths “keep your eyes on me” and needless to say that goes straight into your… you know what. He’s a hot guy, okay?!

Things only get worse from that point. First of all; he takes his shirt off just as he sits down then throws it right into your face with a massive smirk. The shirt smells just like him and you can’t help but daydream about being home, surrounded by this scent all over. You take the shirt and take a good sniff; Katsuki’s eyes darken, his gaze so lustful it makes you blush like this is the first time you’ve ever seen him look like that.

Somehow… it feels different. Possessive in a good way. Hah. You always hated when someone thought about their partner as “theirs” but now you start to understand that it’s not all about being someone’s possession, it’s more about you being a part of them, one not whole without the other.

Katsuki’s chosen song is Through the fire and flames by an old band called DragonForce.

Tokoyami plays the beginning flawlessly; It’s a fucking hard song to play on every instrument, mostly on guitar and the drums but while Tokoyami looks much more focused than he did when he played the easy chords in the last song, he doesn’t look that bothered. Kaminari on the other hand looks like he’s about to shit himself and it makes you giggle; this song is an absolute pain in the ass on the guitar and you are actually quite surprised that they somehow manage to play the song because even professional guitarists struggle to learn this one. Needless to say there are a few mistakes on their part, but otherwise, it’s quite impressive. You keep your eyes on Tokoyami and Kaminari for the first few seconds of the song as there is no drums at the beginning but when they get to the part with the drums you almost choke on your saliva.

Katsuki looks like a fucking rockstar. The way his muscles bulge when he hits the toms makes you salivate, but you can barely concentrate on the beauty in front of you as the way he plays is even more impressive. It’s powerful, precise, no mistakes whatsoever. The song already has complicated drums but you swear he made it even more difficult to play, even the easy parts sound more complicated and so much better than the original and when you finally tear your eyes off your gorgeous boyfriend you take a look at Bakugou, who’s sitting next to you, gawking at Katsuki with an open mouth, too impressed to be devastated about him loosing - because let’s be honest, he really fucking did loose.

The next time you look at Katsuki, he’s glowing. He looks so happy behind that drum set, so content and so-so handsome it makes your heart clench. You can’t believe this guy is yours. You can’t believe you’ll wake up every day next to this gorgeous fucking man, hopefully, for the rest of your life.

As Katsuki finishes the solo with an absolute sick drum solo, he stands up before the song wraps up and your body moves on its own; you jump into your boyfriend’s arms and he catches your legs and pulls you even closer as he kisses you deeply, right in front of everyone.

“Marry me, Bakugou Katsuki.” You mumble, incapable of pulling away from his puffy, soft lips. Katsuki takes something out of his pocket and let’s you down, but he doesn’t go too far away; He leaves a tiny kiss on your knuckles, tears pricking his beautiful red eyes as he goes down on one knee in front of you.

“Be my fucking wife, Menace. Let’s grow fucking old together. You are the best fucking thing that’ve ever happened to be and the most annoying one as well, but I fucking love you nonetheless.” Katsuki bursts out in tears by the end of his sentence and you are not too far behind; when you are about to answer a loud sob breaks out of your throat.

“Okay.” You mumble, letting him put the ring on your finger. You almost faint when you look at it because while you don’t have any idea about ring prices you already know this one cost a fortune. It’s so fucking beautiful and so perfectly him. Loud and fancy. Just like your fiancé. “I’ll be the best and the most annoying wife in the whole wide world. I promise.”

Katsuki seals the deal with another deep kiss then the moment is ruined when Izuku and Deku starts crying loudly. It’s so loud it actually hurts your eardrums.

“Save your fucking tears for the time I need to recreate all of this for Eijirou’s sake because I ain’t telling him that I proposed to her while he wasn’t here!”

“You want me to give this ring back to you?! But I don’t wanna! It’s so pretty!” You moan, but Katsuki only rolls his eyes.

“You will live, wifey.” Okay. You really fucking like the sound of that. “I’ll keep your mind away from it.” Katsuki pulls you closer by your waist and leaves a scorching hot kiss on your mouth. You melt like a fucking snowman in a microwave.

“Hmm. Deal.”

~•💥•~

“Oi, look! It’s Kirishima!” This world’s Bakugou points to the window of a coffee shop near campus. “He’s making out with the barista!”

“Fucking finally!” Deku rolls his eyes, annoyed. “He’s been pining for months!”

You can’t help but smile when you sneakily look into the coffee shop because that’s the same girl Kirishima’s been daydreaming about in your world. It makes you so happy to see him like this; Eijirou has a special place in your heart and you really hoped he’ll find his own happy end eventually.

“Do you think he knows he’s shagging that famous rock star’s niece?” Todoroki asks the million dollar question. Katsuki and you look up at the guy with question marks in your eyes. “That girl… is the niece of that famous singer-guitarist. The band name is… Crimson Riot? It’s Kirishima’s favorite band I think.”

“Oh my god.” Katsuki looks at you with a shit eating smirk. “Oh my god, I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes that. This is gonna be amazing.”

Yeah it will be… but that’s a story for another day - you think to yourself as you walk around the campus once more, hand in hand with your brand new fiancé. You can’t wait to get home and snuggle him until he blast you out of the window.

“Will you come over again, Y/N?” Deku takes your other hand and starts walking with you like he’s a little kid. You look at Katsuki who only gives you a cheeky smile but that’s all the answer you needed.

“Yeah. We will.”

The End.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I’m quite sure no sane human being can play the guitar part of the song Katsuki decided to play with that band. I’m just saying, because I usually try to be realistic and that wasn’t. Also, big thank you for my ex-drummer boyfriend for choosing that song for me because I was in stitches for days 😂 I can kinda play a lot of instruments but drums ain’t one of them. I once sat down and tried to play it and he cried. 😂😂😂😂

- The Dabi part inspired me so much that I actually started to write a DabiHawks fanfiction in this AU. It will be a completely separate thing from this and some details will be different, plus I’ll probably upload it on AO3, but just to let you know, that’s something I’m working on when I have the time! I’ll post about it on my Tumblr once it’s done!

- This is the official end of Katsuki’s side of this story. I’m sad but I’m also really happy for him! Thank you very much for everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! I actually uploaded the first chapter of this almost exactly a year ago. How freaky is that?!

- As you guys know, there is a spin-off for this series called Kirishima Eijirou’s daily shenanigans and the first chapter is already up so click here to read my first Kirishima x reader fanfic! 🪨

TL - thank you guys for being here 😭😭 @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou #pro hero dynamight x reader

42 notes · View notes

sparrowofthedawnsworld · 2 years

Text

Storms Call For Distractions - Sam Kiszka

A/N: I’m BACKKK GRESTIES! If you guys know me, you know I LOVE a good enemies to lovers (ish) moment. This is pretty cliche and cheesy, but it’s brought me out of my writers block, so just stick with me on this one haha. I hope you guys enjoy! Please note that I did not have time to perfectly proofread this, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance!

WARNINGS: Hurricanes (this could be triggering for some people). 18+ content! Minors please DNI!

Choking | Fingering | Oral (fem receiving) | Praise & degrading | Unprotected sex (wrap it up)!

••••

The five of you had agreed upon a little 2 week vacation, renting out a house just about 15 minutes from the beach.

You were lazily snuggled in between Jake and Danny, all of you were worn out from spending your entire day out in the sun. So far the trip had been lovely, spending time with your best friends… All except for Sam. The two of you couldn’t get along to save your lives and it was starting to make this trip frustrating. Josh, Jake and Danny constantly told you not to let him bother you, but being so close for two weeks straight, was starting to really eat away at you and Sam both.

“Guys, remember that hurricane they’ve been talking about this whole week? The one that was supposed to miss us?” Josh asked, walking into the living room with his phone in hand. You looked up at him, immediately noticing the concern written on his face that matched his voice.

“What do you mean the one that was “supposed” to miss us…?” Jake raised, a concerned hint to his own words, just like his brother’s. “Look,”

Josh walked over to the three of you, flipping his phone around to show you the forecast video. You listened to the meteorologist intently, worry clouding your mind the more he explained.

“This thing is gonna hit TOMORROW night?” You took Josh’s phone from his hands, examining the radar and forecast further

“Well, we’re fucked.” Jake huffed, leaning back into the couch with a noise of frustration. “We’re not gonna be able to pack up in a day… We’d end up driving in it. And that’s boldly assuming they don’t close the roads before we can load up and leave…”

“It’s not exactly safe to stay here either, Jake. This thing is a category 3 right now…” Danny pointed, glancing at the radar over your shoulder.

“How the hell did it even change directions so fast…”

“What’s with the little meeting?” Sam’s tone was laced with genuine curiosity as he entered the room. You did your very best at biting back some snappy comment and allowed one of the other boys to answer him.

“There’s apparently a hurricane that’s headed right for us now. We’re trying to come up with a plan… but it looks like we’re just gonna be stuck here a few extra days.” Danny explained, head leaning against the back the couch, getting lost in thought.

“I think we’d be okay here…” Sam shrugged. “We’re not directly on the beach anyway.”

“This is a big storm Sam. We’re still a little too close.” You tried to keep a cool tone, but Sam immediately became agitated by your words… As usual. “Do you have to disagree with everything I say? Or do you do it just to make me miserable?” Sam glared.

“You do your absolute best at making me miserable, Sammy. It’s only fair I take my opportunities.” You shot back, giving him a sickening smile.

“I love you both, but for the love of God, don’t start this shit right now.” Jake cut in pleadingly. “We have shit to do.”

“I’ll go to the store.” You declared, wanting a little bit of time away from the house, before you were all to become stuck there. “One of you come with?” You glanced around to Jake, Danny and Josh, praying one of them would say yes.

“Don’t wanna go shopping with me, dearest?” Sam sneered, throwing a hand over his chest.

“Hell no. I’m already gonna be stuck here with you longer than I planned.” You groaned, glaring at him.

“Just your worst nightmare, isn’t it, doll?”

“Y/N, I’ll go with you. Come on.” Danny said quickly, pulling you up off the couch with him. You gave Sam one final glare as you followed Danny out of the room.

“God, he’s insufferable.” You muttered.

“Maybe these next few days will bond you two.” Danny suggested, shrugging cooly. Instant laughter escaped your lips. “Yeah, if hell freezes over.”

You placed around various flashlights and candles throughout the house, while all the guys were outside putting away beach chairs and other outside furniture. Within the next five to six hours, you would be getting the outer bands of the storm.

“Y/N?” You heard Jake call through the house. “Yea?!” You yelled back from the top of the stairs.

“We were gonna ride to the beach for a few, now that we’ve got everything done. Just to enjoy the last little bit of sun.” He explained and you nodded. “You’re coming with us.” he added. You shook your head no, walking down the stairs to meet him where he stood at the bottom. “I don’t know if I wanna be on the beach now… the waves are probably huge already. I can’t imagine it’s safe out there anymore.”

“If they’re too big, we won’t get out of the car. I promise. Or we’ll just stay at the top of the beach.” Jake assured you, eyes softly begging you to agree on their little adventure. “Fine,” you sighed in agreement. Grabbing your shoes and following Jake out the door.

All of you watched the huge, crashing waves from the top of the beach. None of you even daring to walk closer to the water. Each wave seemingly getting bigger and bigger, coming farther up the sand. The wind was practically knocking you over. The beach was completely void of people, besides the five of you.

“Maybe we should have just tried to go home…” Jake spoke, a nervous edge to his tone that you weren’t used to hearing from him.

“We’ll be okay. Or at least I think…” Danny laughed, sounding equally as nervous.

“Can you guys stop?” You begged. “I’m horrified enough.”

“We’re gonna be just fine, Y/N. Don’t let their worry, be your worry.” Josh soothed you, rubbing a hand along your back comfortingly. Here you were, staring danger directly in the eyes and he was so calm and collected. You took a deep breath, taking in the last rays of sun and the warm wind.

“I think we should head back. I have just enough time to make us all dinner before this thing hits.” you told them, turning to walk back towards the car. All four boys complied and followed quickly behind you.

After eating and cleaning up from dinner, the five of you sat around the living room, trying to enjoy the company of one another. The impending weather had everyone on edge, none of the boys were quite as talkative and energetic as usual.

It was about midnight and the outer bands of the storm had been rolling in for a couple hours now.

“You know… I can’t think of a better group of people to be stuck in a Hurricane with.” You softly smiled towards Josh, his gentle attempt at easing the energy in the room made your heart swell.

“Honestly, you’re not wrong… but even the alcohol isn’t calming my nerves.” Jake admitted, holding up his cup of god knows what. “Yeah, no kidding..” Danny agreed.

“I just know Y/N is gonna be the first one to panic if something happens.” Sam spoke mockingly.

“Don’t you think I deserve to not have you pestering me right now?” you bit back with a cold look.

“You think i’m gonna spare you, just cause a little storm is coming?” Sam’s voice dripped with fake sympathy.

“Welp, this has been fun. I’m going to bed.” Jake interrupted, before you and Sam went any further. “Goodnight!”

“I wish you’d spare me all the time and just not fucking talk.”

“HAH!” Jake cackled from the top of the stairs.

Josh and Danny fought to hold back their own fits of laughter, sharing glances and snickering to one another quietly.

Sam scoffed. “Like you’re a real treat to listen to.”

“okay… You guys have fun, I’m gonna hit the hay, too.” waving his hand, Josh made his way up the stairs not long after Jake.

You stood from the couch, shooting Sam a look of distain. “I’m not about to get left down here with you, so goodnight.”

After hugging Danny, you made your way up towards your bedroom. You rummaged through your suitcase, looking for a specific oversized t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties, deciding to shower while you still had the chance. Who knows how long the power would last…

Once you were done showering, you crawled into bed, scrolling through tiktok until you eventually fell asleep with your phone in hand.

Your sleep didn’t last long though, being startled out of your sleep, by a loud bang just outside your window.

You shifted around in search for your phone and when you found it, you opened it up to go straight to your weather app. You were sure this had to be the worst of the storm, but you were shocked to see you still had a little bit to go until the worst settled in. The rain and wind beat loudly against the windows and sides of the beach house. At times the wind blew so hard, you could feel the room shaking.

‘How the fuck could it get worse than this’ you thought.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you walked over to the window and opened the blinds. The trees were tipped in a constant angle from the wind- they looked like they could snap at any second. A mixture of rain, leaves, sand and probably other various debris were being blown around.

You abandoned the window out of fear of something hitting it again and crawled back into bed.

You replayed in your mind what Josh had said earlier in the evening: “We’re gonna be just fine, Y/N.” in hopes that it would calm your raging nerves.

You tried your very best to lull yourself back to sleep, wanting to sleep through as much of the storm as you could, but it was no use. Your anxious thoughts were out of control.

Getting up out of bed yet again, you quietly made your way downstairs to the kitchen.

Walking through the doorway, you jumped at the sight of Sam sitting at the island. A cup of what you could only guess to be tea, settled in between his hands. He turned to you, wide eyed and startled slightly himself.

“Sorry… I didn’t think anyone would be down here..” you mumbled, making your way over to the cabinet to retrieve a mug of your own.

“What are you doing up? Scared?” Sam snickered, although it seemed a little more lighthearted than normal.

You rolled your eyes, putting the mug of water into the microwave. “Me, scared? I find that a little insulting.”

“It was fully meant to be an insult. You’re a baby.” smirking, he watched your cheeks turn pink in annoyance.

“And you’re an ass.” You snapped back. “So why are you up then, hm?” it was your turn to question him.

“Is Sammy boy a little scared, too?”

“Nope, not really. I’m always up late.” he shrugged, bringing his mug up to his lips nonchalantly.

“Right.” You turned back to the microwave, pulling out the mug of now hot water.

In the middle of opening the tea bag, yet another loud crash came from outside. You turned to Sam, who was sharing an equally wide-eyed expression. He slid out of his seat, heading in the direction the sound came from. You followed him, coming up behind him at the living room window.

“Fuck, well that’s gonna be fun moving…” He sighed, peering out of the blinds. “What? What is it?”

He moved out of the way begrudgingly, gesturing for you to look out. You didn’t have to look long, eyes falling on the large palm tree that had fallen across the end of the driveway. “Oh…”

“Yeah. “Oh..”” he huffed, trudging back towards the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes at his inability to be nice for even five minutes.

Returning back to making your cup of tea, you stayed silent. You sometimes wished that Sam would treat you as he did everyone else. The playful touches and teasing…

But you knew you would never get that from Sam.

While you continued on with your task at hand, Sam was eyeing you intently from his spot at the island. It had slipped your mind, that all you had on was a pair of purple panties and an oversized band t-shirt. Sam was praying that you wouldn’t turn around to catch him gawking. So, before you had the chance to, he downed the rest of his tea and got up.

You heard footsteps coming up behind you, but you didn’t move. Sam came up beside you, reaching around your body to sit his cup in the sink.

You paused suddenly at close proximity. “You couldn’t just go on the other side of me?”

“Didn’t feel like going that far.” Sam smirked. Oh, how that smirk did things to you that you wouldn’t be caught dead admitting.

“It’s right there, Samuel.” You pointed, annoyance mixed with heat rushing through you. Despite sitting his mug down, he was still all too close. He just shrugged again. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Watching Sam leave the kitchen, You wanted to ask him to stay, in fear of being alone… But how would that look? ‘I could always go wake one of the other boys..’ you thought to yourself, but you didn’t want to do that.

You finished your tea as quickly as you could and practically sprinted back upstairs. The warm liquid did little to calm you and when you finally settled back into your bed, you started to become anxious again.

You laid in bed, practically shaking in fear. Debating all your possible options, you decided you didn’t want to wake one of the other boys.

Sam was really your only option left.

Reluctantly, you got up once again. But this time, you went straight to Sam’s bedroom door. You lifted your hand to knock, but it’s as if your body was fighting against the action.

‘This won’t end well, he’s just gonna tell you to get out, amongst other rude things.’

You pushed the thoughts as far back as you could, forcing your hand to knock against the wooden door. It was soft, but loud enough that you knew Sam would hear.

There was shuffling heard from inside, before the door opened slowly. Before Sam could even say a word, you were already explaining yourself. “I know it’s late and you hate me, but I admit it, I’m scared and I can’t sleep. I know you’re probably gonna say no, b-“

“Y/N.” Sam interrupted sharply and you stopped mid sentence.

“Yeah…?” You spoke weakly, realization of the situation setting in.

“I’ll stay up with you. Just come in and settle down, for God’s sake.” You looked up at Sam in shock. He stepped to the side to let you in, but you were frozen in your spot. Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement, snapping his fingers in front you. “Earth to Y/N. Are you gonna come in, or stand there like a deer in headlights? If that’s the case, I’m closing the door.”

You blushed, finally stepping into his room. It was just like the rest of the rooms in the beach house, but the woodsy, sweet scent was what made it so obviously Sam’s. The only other difference, being the TV that hung on the wall.

“Thank you…” you mumbled, glancing around, taking in the cozy room. Sam walked by you, heading towards his bed and got back in. He opened up the blankets next to him, inviting you in.

You slid in beside him, somewhat awkwardly if you were being honest. Let’s be real, this was Sam. Of all the people in this house you could have sought after for comfort, this is where you ended up.

Once you were in, Sam pulled the covers up over you both. What he did next, shocked you to your core. Literally.

Sliding a little closer, he pulled you into his arms, securing you safely against him. You cursed yourself for how quickly your body relaxed into him and he seemed to

notice too, based on the cocky chuckle that shook his chest.

“All you needed was me, huh, doll?” He teased.

“Don’t ruin this for me, Sam.” you grumbled, rolling your eyes, earning a genuine laugh from Sam. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” he smiled cheekily, sarcasm laced in his tone.

“Aren’t you just a gem.” rolling your eyes, you dropped your head against his chest, trying to relax the rest of the way.

“Oh, I am a gem. Just not for you.”

“See? Here you go killing what could be a good moment.” you sighed frustratedly, only amusing Sam more.

“A good moment? Doll, you’re never gonna get a “good moment” out of me.” he chuckled lowly, eyes never leaving the TV. It was as if he couldn’t dare bless you with all of his attention.

“Given the way you’re holding me, your words are a little contradicting.” you argued, glancing up at him.

“I’m doing you a favor.” he said simply, still not looking at you.

Giving up on the conversation, you focused in on the TV and the scent of Sam’s lingering cologne from the day. As much as you hated it, the awkwardness that was lingering in the air eventually went away and you found a solid comfort in Sam’s arms.

A few minutes passed and you found yourself dozing off to sleep, when everything went black. The sounds of the TV and other natural noises from the house, stopped completely. Leaving only the raging, eerie sounds from outside, causing You to shift anxiously in Sam’s arms.

“Well, fuck…” Sam shifted as if he was going to get up, but you grabbed his arm. “Sam, where are you going??”

“To find a candle…? Do you wanna stay in the pitch black?”

“Please just stay here?” you pleaded, not realizing the death grip you had on his arm.

Letting out an exasperated breath, he settled back down beside you. It was then that he’d noticed how much you were shaking.

“I’ve got you, Y/N. Here,” Sam adjusted you both, so that you were snuggled deeper into the bed. You were facing each other now, and your eyes had adjusted to the new darkness, just enough to see his striking features. His hand found your cheek, his thumb stroking it lightly.

You blinked at him a few times, not believing that this was really Sam anymore. The Sam you knew wouldn’t do this… right? Right?!

“You know… You irritate me to no end, but this is exactly what I was hoping would happen.” Sam admitted and you could just barely see the grin on his face.

“And why’s that?” you pried, leaning into his touch a little more.

“Cause now I get to be the one to calm your anxious ass… And also do this-“ Before you could process what Sam had said, his lips brushed against yours gently.

His lips felt so welcoming and warm, you couldn’t fight your body’s urge to kiss him, once you got beyond your brief state of shock.

The kiss was slow and soft at first, almost experimental and cautious.

“I don’t think this is enough to calm me down, Sammy.” you whispered against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, his own curving up along with yours.

“Oh, say it isn’t? What can I do about that, doll? Want me to go back to making you miserable?” he jested, biting at your bottom lip teasingly.

He kissed down your cheek, picking a spot just below your jaw to bite and suck on. A barely there whimper made your skin vibrate against his lips and he chuckled darkly.

“Go on, tell me.”

“No, I want you to Keep going like this, Sammy. Please.” you begged, letting your head tip back just a little more to give him more access to your neck.

“Mmm. You want me to make you feel good? Is that it?” He pressed on, wanting to hear your shaky voice try to stutter out answers for him.

“Yes. Yes, I want you to make me feel good. S-so good.” you answer breathlessly, as he bit into another spot on your neck. You were in too deep to not see how far you would go for him, and how far he would go for you.

“And no teasing.” You tried to add on with a much firmness as you could muster.

“Aww, doll baby. That’s not how this is gonna work. I aim to please, of course, but I’ve gotta work you up a little…” his words caused a whimper to emit from your lungs. “I love when you get all frustrated.” he spoke lowly, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Why do you think I love making you mad all the time?”

“That’s so sick and twisted of you, Sam.” you huffed, tangling your fingers in his soft hair in an attempt to pull him back up to your face.

He grabbed your wrist, pinning it down to the bed, along with the other as he moved over top of you fully. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“But you love it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

You leaned up to connected your lips again. If kissing Sammy was something you could do without ever stopping, you would do it. His kisses were captivating, the taste of his lips was more addicting than you’d ever imagined. As much as you hate to admit it, you have thought about what his lips would be like, What they would taste like… many times.

You pulled away for air, gazing up into his eyes. You couldn’t see the details of them, but you knew they were probably dark with lust, just like yours. You stayed like that for a moment, until you were startled by what sounded like a branch hitting the window. You jumped in Sam’s hold and he squeezed your wrists. He leaned down, placing little kisses to your cheek.

“Ssshh. We’re fine…” he soothed lowly. “Let me get back to distracting…”

Sam let go of your wrists, hands traveling down to the hem of your t-shirt. “Can I take this off?” You nodded all too eagerly in response.

“Words, Y/N.” he said firmly.

“Y-yes, take it off.” you choked out, trying to keep your breathing even. While Sam was effectively pulling your attention and nerves away from the storm, you were shocked at the dominance Sam possessed… It definitely gave you something new to dwell on.

Pulling your shirt over your head, with a little help from you, exposed your fully bare chest to Sam. A soft groan left his lips at the site of you, now almost entirely naked beneath him.

“So beautiful…” his words came out barely above a whisper, hands coming up to cup both your breasts. He played with one of your nipples teasingly between his fingers, his mouth coming down to connect with the other.

A moan much too loud -given the other people in the house- ripped out of you and Sam’s hand retreated from your breast, covering your mouth instinctively.

“I need you to be quiet. We wouldn’t want my brothers’ or Danny to wake up and hear you, would we?” The thought actually made you throb and in light of wanting to push Sam’s buttons a little bit, you decided to be a little defiant. Sam pulled his hand away, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

“What if I want them to hear me?” Sam’s face fell and his hand flew to your throat.

“Don’t you dare forget who’s running this fucking show.” Sam growled. “Either quiet down, or I will turn over, go to sleep right now and leave your pretty little cunt aching and dripping. Got me?”

“Yes, sir- i mean, Sam- i-“ you stumbled over your words, flustered and dripping at Sam’s full display of dominance.

“That’s my good girl.” he smiled down at you, sickeningly sweet.

He abandoned your breasts once he was satisfied with the hickeys scattered over them, working his way down to leave more across your belly and hips. “My sweet baby doll likes when I kiss her here, huh?” he asked, sucking on the sensitive skin of your lower belly, making your squirm.

“Shit- yes, I love that…” you whimpered through labored breaths. “Sammy, please… I need more. Please.”

Sam peered up at you. “What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me.” He encouraged.

“Need your mouth, or your fingers. Anything please… I can’t take anymore teasing.” you sounded purely pathetic, but you were too focused on finally receiving some relief to care.

“Sooo desperate. Who knew you’d be such a needy little slut for me..” Sam teased, the degrading words leaving his lips were filthy and you loved it. He knew you loved.

Hooking his hands into the sides of your panties, He tugged them down, a soft moan leaving his lips at the wetness clinging to them. “-And so wet…” he breathed out.

The warmth of his mouth ghosted over your heat, still far too teasing for your liking.

“Are you really gonna make me keep begging?” you locked eyes with him, giving him a pleading look.

“I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it…” he paused, kissing your clit softly. “Since you want it sooo bad, beg for it, Y/N.”

“Sammy, please don’t make me beg anymore!” You whined, fisting the blanket below you in frustration.

Sam grabbed ahold of both your knees, yanking your legs apart

further. You moaned at the cool air suddenly hitting your burning core.

“Do you wanna cum or not? Stop being a little brat and let me hear you beg me.” He spat, biting harshly at the inside of your thighs.

“Okay, okay! Please, just please… I need your mouth so bad. I need you to make me cum, I wanna tell you how good you make me feel, Sammy, please!” Sam hummed to himself,nmore than satisfied with your response.

His lips finally connected with your throbbing bundle of nerves, sucking on it just enough to have you writhing beneath him. He threw an arm over your hips to hold you in place, the other arm moving under him to join his mouth. He slipped a single finger into your entrance first, dragging it in and out of you slowly. The sounds of your wetness was damn near embarrassing, but you had no time to focus on that.

Adding a second finger, Sam caused another loud moan to bubble out of you. You expected him to scold you, but he let it go, repeating the same action that drew out the moan.

“Fuck, Sammy. Fuck-“ you cried, hands reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair. You could feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

“Are you close? Talk to me, pretty girl.” Sam pulled away from your throbbing bud of nerves, replacing his mouth with his thumb, rubbing quick circles.

All that came out of you was another cry of pleasure, unable to form a coherent sentence. A pleased smirk tugged at Sam’s swollen lips.

“Give it up, pretty baby. I know you can do it.” he coaxed, voice almost mocking. “I know it feels so good, huh?”

Sam pulled himself up slightly, giving himself a little more leverage to better pin your squirming hips down. You turned your head into the pillow, muffling your loud moans when you felt your orgasm start to break over you.

“There it is… So pretty when you cum all over my fingers for me.”

Sam slowed the movements of his hand and let up on the hold he had of your hips, as you came down from you high.

“Oh… oh my god…” you panted out, trying to regain your composure. Sam laughed lightly at how fucked out your already were.

Bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, he slid them in slowly and you watched him intensely as he sucked them clean.

You reached a hand out for him and he moved back over top of you.

“What is it, doll?”

“Take these off, wanna taste you too.” you told him lazily, gesturing at his sweatpants and beginning to prop yourself up.

But Sam pushed you back down by your shoulder. “Absolutely not. I’m so hard it hurts and I will cum in your mouth instantly. I need to get inside you. Next time, pretty girl.”

Your mouth gaped at Sam’s admission and you could only nod, completely wordless. Next time??

Sam wasted no time ridding himself of his sweatpants and boxers, crawling back over top of you.

“Are you ready?” he asked gently, hand coming up to cradle your face. His whole demeanor had changed and you honestly liked this side just as much.

“I’m ready.” you answered confidently, but you quickly realized why Sam had become a little softer with you. The burning sensation of him stretching you out, was enough to drawl a quiet sob from your lungs.

“Oh, shit- i-“ you stuttered through whimpers, burying your head into the crook of Sam’s neck.

“Almost there, baby… You’re doing so well. Are you okay?” his hand traveled back to hold the back of your head, while he waited for you to give him the okay. “I’m okay, baby… keep going. I can take it.” you assured him, taking a few deep breaths.

Sam pushed in the rest of the way carefully, groaning at how tight you were around him. “Shit, Y/N-“

Once he was in to the hilt, he didn’t move for a moment, trying to regain his grounding.

“You can move, Sam..” you told him, and he shook his head.

“I know. I’m trying not to cum…” he whined, trying his best not to fall apart inside of you so soon.

After a few more seconds, he gave a slow experimental thrust and you both moaned in unison. Slowly, Sam set a steady pace, gradually working his way up to something more intense.

“you’re so good, baby. So, so good.” you praised him, nails digging into the soft skin of his back. You couldn’t help but notice the blush that tinted his cheeks at your praise.

You’d definitely have to store that moment away.

He picked up his pace, snapping his hips into you harder and faster. You quickly became a moaning, whining mess under him yet again.

“You look so pretty underneath me like this. All fucked out.” he panted. unrelenting in his motions.

“Who knew you’d be such a whiny little thing..” he mocked, fingers coming down to rub tight circles into your clit again.

“S-sam, I don’t know if I can cum again,” you choked out, eyes squeezing shut in intense pleasure.

“Yea, I think you can.” he grunted, easing up on the pressure of his fingers against you clit, opting for a softer, more languid touch. The combination of the harsh thrusts he was giving you and the light touch over your clit, seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, fuck- that’s it, Sam. Please keep going- please, please, please!” you sputtered out quickly, back arching off the bed.

“There we go, see I told you.” he smirked. “you’ve got one more in you Let me have it, sweet girl. Cum with me.” he commanded.

With a few more deep thrusts of his hips, the fire burning in your stomach exploded as your second orgasm took over your body. This one was more intense than the first, your vision blurring and the sound of Sam’s praises sounding like faint background noise.

Sam reached his own high just seconds after you, a shaking, moaning mess above you. Rambling constant praises to you.

When he finally came down, he pulled out of you carefully and collapsed beside you.

“Jesus christ…” he mumbled to himself breathlessly.

You both laid there for a few seconds, trying to recover and take in what just happened.

“Do you think we woke anyone up?” You asked, turning your head towards him.

“We?” he scoffed playfully. “I didn’t, but you might have.”

You blushed crimson, pulling the comforter over your face.

After another minute or two, you got up, searching around for your t-shirt.

“Where are you going?” the same words you’d said to Sam just a little bit ago, were echoed back to you. You giggled. “Getting my shirt so we can clean up.”

Once you located it, you picked it up and cleaned yourself off, handing it off to him after.

“Think you can go to sleep now?” Sam jested, eyes scanning over your naked body like he could honestly devour you all over again.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head back to my room now.” you faked a serious tone as best you could, reaching out for your t-shirt still in his hands.

His face contorted in disbelief and you couldn’t stop the smile that took over you face.

Using the shirt to his advantage, he tugged it as hard as he could, pulling you back down onto the bed beside him. “You’re evil for that.”

“Aw, does Sammy boy not wanna sleep alone during the storm either?” you quipped, reaching to poke his side and he squirmed away, snatching your wrist swiftly.

“Don’t even start. You’re the one who came to my door doe eyed and begging.” he smirked, pulling you into him. You opened your mouth to object, but he stopped you.

“It’s okay, though.” he kissed your forehead softly. “I told you; this is exactly what I wanted to happen.”

477 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 11 months

Text

ranting to y’all this morning bc y’all are my only friends and I hate everybody else :) long winded rant incoming!! I apologize in advance.

realizing I’ve been way too friendly w ppl and bc of that, they feel like they can try me. And then play victim when I bust back For context, I live in a predominantly yt small town and I’ve been here for years. I get along with everybody for the most part and it’s gotten a lot more diverse so it’s not too bad. Esp compared to when I graduated hs. but like a couple days ago, I changed up my hair color bc I was bored and needed sum different. I don’t work in public so it’s not like I have to have a neutral color and I used to wear different colors all the time when I worked at the local grocery store. Point is, im not new to this, im true to this shit. I used to be a walking rainbow. They’ve seen me before. Anyways, I always talk to a lot of ppl that work in the stores, or just passing by. mainly abt anime bc I’m always wearing something related to it (side note: there are like 3 blk cashiers who are in to animanga in my town and it makes me so happy! We always nerd out and shit) but I wore my new hair color out the other day, which is a orange and brown ombré, just to kinda change it up. Life is too fucking short anyways. I’m stuck in the house all day and when I go out, I tend to stick to the same outfits and hairstyles for no reason other than I’m too lazy to dig through my tons of clothes and 30 other wigs. Besides, I’m coming right back to the house anyways and I’m not tryna impress nobody so who gives a fuck. Well this bitch felt the need to ask me ‘is that all you wear?’ As if my lil AOT shirt was bothering her funky ass and she wasn’t even in the conversation b/w me and my fellow blerd brother working the register. To which I ask her are all her teeth really gone at 21 from doing meth? (It was quiet, no back talk then) and then, that same day, these lil snot nose ass kids call themselves walking by me laughing and trying to be funny. Then they tried to grab at my bag and keychains on them. And had the nerve to run behind their dad and play victim, so I told him that if he doesn’t discipline his kids, I’d beat their asses myself so keep a leash on them. And as if it wasn’t bad enough, another bitch made a sideways comment abt how she didn’t expect me to ‘wear something like that’ and I told her thank god it’s on my head and not hers bc I didn’t ask. Saying all this to say that I’m tired of folks trying me and then acting like bitches when confronted. I don’t like being made to be the aggressor bc a bunch of Mayo maggots can’t shut the fuck up and mind the business that pays them. 😭😭 like do not come for me unless I send for you and damn sure don’t try me. I may smile and be friendly but bitch I’m not. I will hurt y’all.

#cherry chats 🍒#like I really be chilling #and I enjoy the bit of social interaction I get bc it’s hard working from home sometimes (even though I’m never quitting!)#but ffs ion like when I gotta get out of character #like I can’t stand that bullshit #I should be able to express myself just like everybody else #I don’t owe you hoes neutrality to make you comfortable #fuck respectability politics #esp for a town full of ppl that do meth #imma go back to sleep before I get mad all over again lmao

54 notes · View notes

aveegrex · 2 years

Text

DUDE, SHE'S JUST NOT INTO YOU

When his captain's brother becomes his bi-awakening

genre: fluff, kinda friends to lovers but the story doesn't go much past the kiss pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Sanji Vinsmoke word count: 2,1k cw: explicit smoking, swearing, veeeery vague mentions of sexual activity (although there isn't even that word, just a tiny hint on it), btw kissing is kinda public but everyone's asleep at the moment

author's note: my first public characther x character fic here, woohoo!! hope you like it, please comment i'm in desperate need of feedback like PLEASE

Also available on AO3

“Dude, she’s just not into you”

A soft voice startles Sanji, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he looks around to see Ace settling on the sand beside him.

“I’d note that it is not yet confirmed nor denied, please and thank you” - the cook retorts, hissing when the heat from a bud reaches his lips. “Yeah, sure, - Ace scoffs, leaning back on a rock. - Look at ‘em and tell me you see two friends, I dare you”

Sanji’s sight is back on Vivi and Nami, nuzzling against each other in search of warmth under a blooming desert sunset . Their whispers are a little too far to make out the words, but the soft gazes the two share speak volumes, leaving only a total fool unsuspecting.

“Bet if you weren’t staring so hard these two would already be making out. - Luffy’s brother is getting a tad hard to ignore. - You lucky you look too love-struck to come off as a cree-”

“Oi shut it! - Sanji hisses, rolling another cigarette. - Does the D stand for dick?”

“Oh absolutely. - Ace grins. - I’m wanted for a reason, kitchen boy”

Sanji fears his eyes could roll out of skull. It would have its perks though, not seeing this smug face serving as a relief. “What do you even care? Is it your family motto to be insufferable?”

The Fire fist choses to stay silent for once, instead reaching his hand for the cigarette and pulling it out of Sanji’s mouth, no please and thank you’s. Sanji’s about to smack him only to halt his movements when he sees Ace puckering his lips to blow a line of smoke rings. “How.. Could you teach me?”

Ace lets out a few more rings and turns to face Sanji, holding a cigarette to his mouth. “Take a drag. - he nods, noticing Sanji’s hesitation.. - Don’t go shy on me now”

The cook reluctantly wraps his mouth around the filter, lips just slightly touching Ace’s fingers, and takes his usual drag, looking up expectantly. “Now roll your tongue into O. - the brunette pokes his own out, showing the goal shape. - Blow a little and push the tongue forward”

Sanji follows, but it ends up a usual exhale, making him cough out the rest of the smoke. “Sh-KHH-shit, it’s not working!”

“Just practice it more, man, that’s how I was taught”

The cook hums and fails again, hissing out the smoke. “Didn’t peg you as a smoker, actually” - brow quirked up, he wonders.

“I’m not. Well, usually. - Ace’s lazy eyes focused on Sanji’s mouth, pointy tongue flicking his bottom lip for moisture. - It’s more of a pick up tool, you know?”

Sanji’s eyes blow wide, a silent question met with Ace’s laughter. “It works!”

“Yeah, right. That’s why you keep showing off in front of Nami-chwan?”

“Oh, nah. - Ace’s face softens, hazy sight now cat-like. - I know better than to stand between a lady and her princess”. His eyes trained on Sanji, he snatches the cigarette out of his mouth again, only this time no revolts follow. “Besides, yours truly prefers blondes”.

Sanji feels a slight shiver running down his spine. The desert is still warm, welcoming even, the scorching sun giving way to a comfortable breeze. He finally notices how the sand sticks to his palm, and how his spine aches against the stone. He hears the same sand swishing, moving around to trick them all tomorrow into a new landscape.

“Anyway, time to hit the hay. Oh-, - Ace laughs childishly, getting up and brushing off the sand off his legs. - Report to me when you succeed”.

A tiny wink and he’s off to settle a little away from the fire, covering his face with the hat. Sanji just sits there though, palms still sweating against the dust, face a little flush.

What…

What the hell was that?

Did Luffy’s brother just flirt with him?

Did Portgas D. goddamn Ace just flirt with a guy?

…

Next day Ace is back to Luffy and his little antics, disguising his care with playfulness. They laugh, running around like there isn’t a water and food shortage on their trip. Everyone else is back on track, slowly dragging their feet through sand.

“You look worse than usual” - Sanji looks aside to see Marimo’s eyes trained on the road ahead, little exasperated breaths coming from Chopper behind him.

“Look who’s talking, snot hair”.

“You lucky I can’t let go of Chopper”.

“Yeah right. - Sanji stretches. - What did you want anyway?”

Zoro sighs, swords clanging rhythmically against his hip. “Dunno. Nevermind”

It’s the heat, probably. Yeah, most certainly. That’s why everything is a little off. That’s why Nami and Vivi are all lovey-dovey on that pervy camel. That’s why Zoro is suddenly initiating a talk with him.

That’s why White Beard’s kin hit on him under the most beautiful sunset Sanji’s ever seen.

It’s just the heat.

“Guys, midday’s near! - Vivi’s concern having everyone perk their ears. - We’re crashing in that cave for a few hours, don’t get lost!”.

All the eyes are trained on a little cavity in the distance, almost arousing with promises of coolness and shade. The desert is once more cut with a cry, this time Luffy’s happy one, the goofy captain taking off immediately to save himself the best spot.

…

“Daaaaamn! - Usopp’s musing echoing through walls. - So big!”.

Sanji leans back against a cold wall and pours his body to the floor, long limbs stretched out star-like. He can hear relaxed gasps and strained groans as everyone else finds themselves a spot, fried up bodies bathing in fresh air. Three minutes in and half the crew is already snoring away.

Sanji props up, the lighter clicks echoing through the cave. He barely had a chance to practice the new trick, and given how annoying D brothers are, Ace will be sure to ask about his success.

One try, two tries, three tries, hell… It takes about five rollups to master one flimsy ring. Sanji sighs, both annoyed and a little proud, starting to roll another one.

“I see my guidance bearing fruit” - fuck, can Ace NOT startle him every single time?

“Ye-yeah. - the cook glances up, meeting an expected smug grin. - Practice makes perfect though”.

Ace plops down next to him, a whiff of musk splitting the tobacco smell. “Don’t go too hard on yourself, you only have two lungs”.

“And exactly zero girls, man. - Sanji’s lighting up his recent doing. - Gotta balance it out”.

A soft airy laugh, much like yesterday's one. The cook registers a slight commotion, bringing his eyes up only to come face to face with the brunette. “Care to make me one too?”.

Sanji shrugs, the kit tin out again. “Thought you said it’s just a pick up tool”.

“It is”.

Oh fuck this guy.

Not like “oh yeah, imma fuck this guy”.

Sanji’s not gay.

Sanji’s as straight as a mast.

Well, not Mary’s mast, but a regular mast, a normal mast.

A straight mast.

Just like Sanji.

FUCK this guy. What the fuck is he thinking?

Sanji starts to reconsider his earlier judgment of the D family. At least Luffy’s not speaking in riddles. Not by choice, of course, but still.

“What are you saying?” - yeah, a straight question for a straight guy. About right.

Ace chuckles, lidded eyes sparkling in darkness. “What does it sound like?”

“Dude, I’m not gay. - Sanji’s patience is flat-lining. - Thought it was obvious”

“Me neither” - Ace gives up on waiting for his own rollup, stealing Sanji’s.

“Then what are you saying?”

A hum for an answer again. “Don’t have to be gay to chase a cutie. - blowing smoke into Sanji’s face, Ace grins, the sparks in his eyes interchanged for little flames. - Cuties come in all shapes, you know?”

Sanji’s fuming. Not literally, sadly, his cigarette still snug between Ace’s brownish lips, but visibly. “So you are hitting on me?”

“Have been for the past week. - the brunette blows a ring, this time aiming for the ceiling. - What, you’re telling me you’ve never… y’know… with a dude?”

“NO!” - Sanji’s shriek comes off a little louder and he sinks into the stone, glancing around.

“They’re all asleep. Temperature difference does that to peo-”

“I know what.it.does!!!” - Sanji’s hissing, snatching the bud from Ace and taking the longest drag of his life. His usual, straight, exhale winding up to the Ace’s cloud, he trains his eyes on the guy, suddenly noticing his heightened heart-beat and a weird knot tightening in his stomach. “I’ve just told you, I’m into girls”

“Yeah, I know. - Ace is somehow unphased by everything, his nonchalance bringing the cook to a boiling point. - Doesn’t mean you’re not into boys either”

The climax is ruined, anger giving way to confusion. “What you mean?”

“Both, man. You might like both”

“You like both?”

“Oh yes. - Ace smiles again, a whispered suppressed chuckle somehow soothing. - I don’t discriminate”

“That’s not how discrimination wor-... How did you understand that?” - Sanji feels his cheeks flushing, thankful for the convenient darkness.

Ace tilts his head to the side, eyes unfocused, long bony fingers toying with cold sand. “I ran a test with one guy”. He continues, noticing Sanji’s confusion. “He kissed me and I liked it”.

“And then you two… y’know?”

“Oh, haha, no! - brunette’s loose curls jiggle as he shakes his head. - No, we were like thirteen, I guess. It was back home” He glides his hands up and down his thighs, eyes unfocused. “Went fishing at night and cooked it on a bonfire”

“You kissed after eating fish?” - Sanji’s snicker rolling off his tongue with all the tension.

“Hey, it was sweet! Not the fish, the other thing, I mean. But, yeah. - Ace’s sight falls to Sanji’s lips and he licks his own, pink tongue poking out for just a second. - He turned out straight though, so we just went swimming after”

“Could have been a nice date” - the cook muses, finally back to rolling Ace his own cigarette.

The silence is comfortable now, and Sanji’s thankful for Ace coming up to him, watching the sleepy crew nuzzling deeper into their covers in search of warmth. “Hey, um-..., - he clears his throat, failing to shake off the tremble in his hands. - You think… you think you could test me? I mean, I’m sure it will lead to nothing, like me coming out straight and all, but like… I just wanna make sure, y’know?”

Ace hums, cigarette bud pressed tight between his fingers. He turns his whole body to face Sanji, eyes trained on the cook’s, the warm hand brushing the smoking kit out of shivering hands. “Close your eyes”

Sanji’s own blow wide, and Ace smiles softly. “It’s easier like that. Go on”

The cook lets out a sharp exhale and obliges, long lashes fluttering close. He feels calloused fingers tilting his head up slowly, feels a smoke-stained breath against his cheek. His heart is thumping inside his head, the sound threatening to wake everyone up any second. “Open your mouth a bit” - a thumb brushing over his lower lip, and Sanji obeys once again. “Good boy”.

And another mouth, a warmer one, presses against his own, wet tongue just slightly poking through his lips. Ace’s hand is in his hair now, buried into the soft locks. It’s soft, surprisingly soft, and not that wet, probably because they’ve been low on water for a few days.

Ace is gentle, polite almost with how slowly he’s going at it, pulling Sanji closer so it feels natural. His mind goes blank, all thoughts and concerns flicked away with that tender tongue and those kind chapped lips. There’s no teeth, no vigor or intensity, just exploration. He feels like he’s the receiver for once in this whole affection game, and Sanji melts a little, hands finding purchase in Ace’s salty curls.

He leans closer, switching the position slowly to not break the kiss. A tiniest moan escapes his chest when Ace pushes his tongue a little deeper, his warm hand sliding to Sanji’s heated cheek.

“W-wow. - Sanji whispers, lips a bit swollen and glistening in the dark. - H-hell”

Ace’s hand is still on his cheek, rubbing small circles into the soft flesh. He’s watching Sanji, fully focused on the cook’s ragged breath. “We still have time. - he cards a stray strand behind Sanji’s ear. - Don’t have to wake them all up just yet”

“Ye-yeah. - Sanji’s sight is on Ace’s lips, he’s scooting a little closer, mouth still agape. - Yeah, they should rest a bit more”

…

Listening to the tiny wet echoes, Usopp shifts in his place, careful not to make a sound. “Knew I should have gone for a piss sooner”.

NDNI, reblogs and comments are needed and welcome, never pass a chance to kiss Ace

353 notes · View notes