#i’ll do what i have to for the tequila i guess

[spagheddiediaz]

there is nothing like cleaning out a closet w your ex, finding a fancy af tequila bottle from your anniversary trip to mexico, FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS IT, and then just agreeing on doing shots out of it??????

[eddiesxangel]

My Little Bunny | Older!Eddie x Reader

For Evie, @oneforthemunny prompt for her writing challenge. “based off the lore that older!eddie gets slutty on tequila lol. gimme tequila eddie. make it slutty. the og prompt was at the beach for a wedding of a cousin, if you’d like to follow that, but if not- where does it happen? how do you think it would go? don’t spare a single detail please!!!!” I hope I did your man justice 😘 happy one year!

Happy new year! Here is some smut to start the year off right.

This is pure filth, don’t look at me🫣

Cw: age gap, oral, p in v, ass play, anal. Minors DNI. Only slightly proofread so if you see a spelling mistake… no you didn’t 😤

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slurred. The man could not handle his liquor. But neither could you.

After what happened and the wedding, Eddie swore he wouldn’t drink tequila for a very long time. However, tonight was special. Tonight, the baby was with your parents, and Bri was off with your sister for the evening. It was just you. And Eddie. Alone for the first time in what felt like years. Eddie was wining and dining with you tonight.

You convinced him to go to a bar to dance. Well, you danced, he watched. He watched your body; he loved the new curves you got from bringing Delilah into the world. You returned to the bar where he was sitting and ordered four tequila shots. Eddie had been nursing a beer all night; he was shocked at your drink of choice.

“Bunny you know what happens when I drink this…” giving you a stern look.

“Maybe I wanna get a little freaky tonight…. It’s been so long” you run your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t know”

“What if I gave you an insensitive?”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to fuck my ass tonight” you whispered against your husband’s ear.

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slured again as you both stumbled into your home.

“Fuck I need you. I need your tight ass so bad”

You can’t keep your hands off one another. Your lips are attached to his neck, and your hands run up and down his body. You barely make it through the front door before your hands are trying to get down his pants.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom. You were stripping your man with each step. Something inside of you was burning, and Eddie was the only thing to put it out. A visceral ache in your core, screaming at you to do something about it.

“I need you, I need you so bad,” you whined because he wasn’t moving fast enough. You were already on the bed waiting for him.

Eddie giggled as he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Come here,” Eddie coxed you closer to him. “I need your help.”

“Arms up,” your mom instincts kicked in, and you pulled off Eddie’s shirt in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, you worked on his pants the second your fingertips left the fabric of his shirt. Your nimble fingers worked his belt, button, and zipper, and finally, why you craved most was released before you.

"God, you're so hot! How did I land a wife so fucking hot?"

You let Eddie cup your face, kissing you as he pushes you back onto the bed. His tongue parted your lips, and you gladly let him take charge.

It was needy and messy but so deliciously delightful. You missed your hundreds touch. You’d been so busy being a new mom, and Eddie tried picking up extra shifts to make a little more cash so you could take a nice vacation this summer. You hardly spent time together. You needed this. He needed this. The fire in his belly was also burning the second you mentioned your perfect tight little hole wanting to be stretched and pounded by his cock.

“You gonna be my good little bunny?” Eddie spoke as he slinked down your body so his face was level with your throbbing pussy.

“Yes!” You had zero patients, and he thought it was cute.

“Well then... You gotta get nice and wet, f’me”

“Already ammmmm” you wined again. Why was he prolonging this?

“Oh is she? I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.” Eddie didn’t spare another second. His hands wrenched your legs open, pressing them as far as they could reach.

You let out a moan of pleasure when his mouth finally attached to your lower lips.

Eddie needed to taste you. He usually didn’t do this often, but tonight you deserved to be thoroughly fucked. He needed to feel you cumming in his mouth, to taste you, to feel you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned into your pussy.

“Looks like you were right, baby bunny, and you taste so good. Just can’t get enough,” Eddie dove back in, flicking and licking at your clit. Your body was so reactive to him tonight. Let’s thank the tequila because it didn’t take much to make you cum from his mouth.

“Baby, I’m so close”

“Already? But I just started playing with her” he pouted.

“Yes! P-please.” You stuttered.

“You wanna cum? You going to cum for me?”

Unexpectedly, Eddie replaced his mouth with his finger just as you were on the brink. Before you could say anything, his finger was inside your wet fold, collecting all of your slick, and was quickly replaced by his mouth again.

You could feel the warmth building back up. Eddie continued to work your clit. All the while, his finger, drenched with your own natural lube, was starting to tease your other hole.

“Oh my god,” you moan as his finger slowly makes its way inside.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop!” You begged as your first orgasm washes through you.

“Fuck, your tight little ass is sucking me in so good,” Eddie continues to finger you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Good bunny. Turn around, ass up, show me what’s mine.”

You quickly obeyed his orders and flipped around so you could show him what he wanted. You loved when he got possessive.

“Tell me what you want bunny”

“You.”

“Nu-uh,” Eddie tutted. “Be more specific.”

“Edddiiiieee, please, I need you.”

Eddie couldn’t believe your extra brattiness tonight.

“No,” a sharp slap filled the room and your ass stung. “Tell me what you need, Bunny,” he spoke, and he massaged the area he slapped. Soothing your skin.

“Your tongue… and your fingers,” you pant.

“Good little bunny,” he smirked. “You want me to tongue fuck your tight little hole? Get you nice and ready for me?”

“Yes,” you sigh as you arch your back more so Eddie can see more of you.

“Fuck bunny, you’re perfect.” Eddie gripped each cheek, spreading you open before dipping his head down.

When you felt his tongue make contact with your hole, you cried out again. You were revelling in the fact you were in an empty house. You could be as loud as you wanted.

“Mmmmmm, you taste so good, Bunny,” he moaned into you.

“Eddie!”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“More!”

“More what?”

“Please fuck my pussy”

“You’re such a good little slut for me. Good girl telling me what you want…. But is that all you want?” God, he was so condescending.

You let out an irritated huff. “Eddie, please,” you begged as you wiggled your ass in the air to entice him.

“You need to behave, little bunny, or else you’re not going to get what you want.” Eddie’s hands gripped your cheeks tighter.

“I’m sorry, I just need you so badly baby”

“Ohhh, I like that; tell me more.”

“I need you so bad! I’m aching for you. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.

Eddie lined up his cock with your wanton hole and slowly stretched you out.

“Thank you.” You sighed with relief.

His thick long cock stretched out your walls. You couldn’t help yourself as you rocked your body back and forth onto his cock.

“That’s it, bunny. Show me what you really can do” he slapped your ass again. You rocked your knees and hips back onto Eddie’s cock as he stood at the edge of your shared bed.

“Mmmmmm”

“More!”

You felt a wad of spit drip down your ass, lower and lower, until Eddie’s fingers found it and rimmed your picked hole. As you rocked your body against Eddie’s cock he dipped in his single digit, adding another and another until you stretched out.

Your body is screaming; Eddie was making you feel so good.

“Ok, bunny, you’re going to ride me, bounce on this cock and show me how good of a Bunny you are.”

“Yes, please. Need you.”

Eddie pulled out so he could get underneath you, but not before he reached the nightstand to pull out the lube you had stashed away for nights like these.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked as he covered his cock in the slippery substance.

“Yes,” you swung your leg around his hips, aligning yourself with his hard cock that lay on his stomach.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he guided your hips down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you both grit out in unison.

You watched as Eddie glazed over with lust.

“Fucking so good. Damn, tight.” Eddie gritted through his teeth.

He planted his feet on the mattress to ground himself. His hips started thrusting up into you, matching your strokes.

“Fuck fuck fuck I love the way you take my cock. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you panted as you bounced on his cock. You felt so full, so complete. So ready for his cock to fill you.

“Baby, touch me,” you commanded.

Eddie dipped his head to take a nipple in his mouth as his hand found your pussy, finding your clit. A rush of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth and hands explored your body.

“Oh baby,” you threw your head back with pleasure.

“How much do you want it, baby bunny?”

“I want it so bad!”

“What do you want?”

“Your cum”

“Sucha little slut, want me to fill your ass with my cum?”

“Yes!”

Eddie’s hand never stopped working your clit. You could feel the pleasure build and build. Your legs were burning, but it was in measure to how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close baby I can feel you clenching down on me so tight.” He squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me, then I’ll fill you up so good you’ll be leaking for days. Do you want that? To feel my cum dripping out of you tomorrow?”

“Fuck. Eddie!” You cried out as your body clenched around his cock, cumming hard.

"Eddie continued to pound into your ass until he unloaded up into you, filling you up just like you begged him to do.

Your body went limp and your soar muscles rested as you lay your weight fully on your husband.

"Remind me again. Why don't I do tequila?" Eddie laughed as his brain released serotonin. "That was amazing." He kissed the top of your head.

"Remember that question tomorrow, big boy." You giggled, and Eddie finally pulled out of you.

"Come on, Bunny, let's get you cleaned up. " Even in his drunken state, he still needed to take care of you.

"Can't move. You fucked me too well." you sighed.

"I think you did most of the work Bun, you fucked me."

"I did, didn't I?" You smile at the realization.

"Don't get cocky now" He slapped your ass, and you jumped up out of bed with Eddie following close behind you.

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 7

summary: a hockey watch party, one last data point for the pizza theory, and one last chance at the national title. Word Count: 7.2k

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mentions of bullying, & some very mild angst

You watch the second round of the hockey championships from the floor of Lily’s apartment, surrounded by friends and friends of friends and anyone who cares enough about hockey to be there, really. You’re in a pair of Timberwolves sweats, your jersey, a team logo beanie, and even your socks are Timberwolves blue. The apartment gets warm, eventually, but you refuse to take any of it off.

They play a good game. The other team is good too, though. You hold your breath for almost the entire third period- it’s tied, 3 to 3. Alex makes save after save. Max takes shot after shot. Nothing is working.

Then, Oscar comes out onto the ice with just a few minutes left to play. You reach behind you and grab Lily’s hand. Lando snatches the puck away from the other team and sends it off to Max. Max passes it through a gap to Oscar. Oscar takes the shot.

The puck hits the net. The goal horn goes off, and the apartment falls quiet. Everyone is holding their breath now. Nobody dares to celebrate yet.

“There’s still a minute left,” you say, like you’re not all aware of it.

The seconds tick down. They feel endless. But when the buzzer sounds, the Timberwolves are up by one. They’re headed to the semifinals. The apartment erupts into cheers, and all you can do is finally breathe. Behind you, Lily does the same, melting into the couch.

“Guess it’s time to book flights to St. Paul,” she says, when you turn to look back at her.

You take a shot of tequila with her in the kitchen, and then you get seats next to each other on a flight out to the semifinals. Your phone rings nearly immediately after that- the apartment is noisy, but it’s Max, so you answer anyways.

“Bunny!” He yells. “We fucking did it!”

“I know!” You say back, feeling nearly as giddy as he must be. “Holy shit, Max!”

“I know,” he says back. You think he might be crying. “You’re gonna come, right?”

“Booked our flights already.”

Lando’s the next one on the line, and it’s pretty much a repeat of the same conversation. It continues. At one point, Alex is talking to both you and Lily on separate calls. You hope someone snaps a picture of him with two phones to his ears. The call lasts through their bus ride back to the hotel, and you want to ask for Oscar but you can’t, really, not when-

“Hi?” Oscar says, voice slightly confused. “Someone handed me the phone, I’ve got no idea what-“

“Osc,” you say, softly.

“Bunny,” he whispers, and the tone of voice makes you melt. “Hi.”

“Good job,” you say. “That goal…”

“Fucking insane,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “I’m so happy.”

You grin. “Me too.”

“I wish you were here,” he says, quietly.

You know somewhere during the call they’ve gotten off the bus and headed inside somewhere- maybe the hotel, maybe a restaurant. You wonder if he’s snuck away to talk to you, or if he’s counting on everyone being too excited to pay attention to him. Either way, you don’t mind. It’s enough to hear his voice, to hear the warmth in it, to know that he wants to talk to you too.

“Me too,” you say. Lily’s motioning to you from across the room, holding up the bottle of tequila. You nod, and she pours you another drink. “But Lily and I just booked flights for the semifinals.”

“Really?” He says, sounding a bit awed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you murmur.

“I- I’ve gotta go. We’re out for dinner, Seb’s buying, and-“

“I know,” you tell him, smiling to yourself. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have fun. Congrats.”

“Thanks, baby,” he says.

Then the line goes dead. You take your drink from Lily and take a sip. She gives you a look, a knowing smile on her face. You blink back as innocently as possible.

“You spent that whole call looking happy,” she says. “And then you got to the last five minutes and you looked lovesick.”

“Did I?” You ask.

She’s become convinced that your mystery boyfriend is someone on the team. She’s right, of course, but you’ve refused to tell her. You’d have told her tonight if they lost the game, but it’s the playoffs. You can’t do anything to mess this up for Oscar or the rest of the team. They’ve been so close the last 3 years. This is Lando and Max’s last chance. You’d do anything to see your best friends win.

“I’ll ask Alex who had the phone last,” she threatens.

“No, you won’t, because you won’t violate my trust like that.”

“Don’t call my bluff,” she groans. “Why won’t you just tell me who it is?”

You sigh. “They’re in the semifinals, Lily. I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.”

She sighs and pouts back at you. “He’s one of the good ones, right? It’s not, like…”

“He’s amazing,” you say, both to reassure her and because it’s true. “Trust me.”

…..

“Hey,” Oscar says, nudging his foot against your ankle. “I have a question.”

It’s late, probably near midnight. It’s a Wednesday, the night before the team flies to Minnesota for the playoffs. You look up from your laptop, propped on your knees in front of you, and blink away the blurriness to look at him. He’s sitting on the other end of your couch, a mirror image, soft and cozy in the warm glow of the lamps in the living room. He’s not doing anything other than scrolling on his phone, but he’d insisted on wanting to be here tonight. To spend the night with you.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask. Your homework can wait. You’d much rather talk to him.

“Why does everyone call you Bunny?” He asks. “Like. I get the idea, but how did it even start?”

You blow out a breath and click save on your document. “That’s a long story.”

He shrugs and sinks further down on the couch, leaning against the arm of it. His calf slots between yours, warm and comforting and there. The two of you have been busy the past few days, weeks even, with end of semester work and practices and everything in between. It’s all you can do to just be there for each other. To just spend time together, even when you’re writing an essay and Oscar is trying to decipher math problems. It always feels better when you can feel him next to you.

“I’ve got time,” he says.

“It’s almost midnight,” you respond.

He shrugs again. “I’ve always got time for you.”

And. Well. There’s not much you can do to argue with that, not much you could say back. It sort of makes you melt, really. You let out a low breath and sink back against the arm of the couch, moving your laptop to the coffee table. There’s a loose thread on the blanket that lays over your knees, and you twist it around your pinky finger.

“It was, uh. One of my old teammates,” you say, focusing on the string around your skin, not wanting to look up at his face. “I went to a party with Max and Lando after I got off the crutches, and she was there, and she… yeah. Said a bunch of shit, called me a puck bunny. And back then, Max was a bit more hot tempered, and obviously he didn’t hit her but he started yelling, and then she started yelling, and then so did Lando, and we got kicked out of this party, and-“ you close your eyes, remembering the moment, when the three of you had tumbled out onto the lawn, into the cold air, and when they both turned to check on you- “it was all so absurd, so stupid, so- she was supposed to be my friend, you know? So I just started laughing. And Lando was looking at me like I was crazy, but then Max started laughing, too, and Lando dragged us both home and ordered pizza, and Charles was still up, so he heard the story. And the name stuck. Honestly, I like it. It’s a way to reclaim the insult, you know?”

You look up and find him watching you, drumming his fingers against his knee. There’s a soft, sort of sad look on his face. Your cheeks grow warm. He makes you feel so seen, in this way that feels a little overwhelming at times.

“You and Max have this thing in common,” he says. “You tell these borderline traumatic stories like they’re funny.”

You scoff. “Me getting mildly made fun of by an ex teammate is not on the same level as Max’s stories.”

Oscar blinks. “But it’s not about the level of it, right? And that was a low blow from her, after you’d lost your sport and your support system, to say that about the friends you’d made. I mean. I get that it’s funny or ridiculous, but. It’s okay if it hurts, too. It can be both.”

You stare at him for a couple seconds, a little in awe of him. Of his kindness, of how much he seems to care. You shift on the couch to crawl over to him, pressing yourself into his side and smiling when he wraps his arms around you and giggles. He sinks down onto the couch and pulls you with until you’re cuddled up together, a mess of limbs and blankets and comfort. He kisses your forehead.

“Thank you,” you say.

There’s more you could say, but you don’t think you need to. He knows you so well already.

“Anytime,” he says. “I mean it.”

Before he leaves the next morning, he digs through his backpack in your living room, brows furrowed. “Swear it’s- aha!” He exclaims, pulling something out of the depths of the bag.

He hands it to you carefully, gingerly, like he’s a little nervous. He’s smiling, though. You take the brochure, eyes widening when you see what’s written across the top.

“No pressure,” he says, so quiet and soft. “You said you wanted to find a connection to soccer again, and I saw this, and…” he shrugs. “Thought of you. We can talk about it if you want, or not at all, or-“

You interrupt him, because you think he might be on the verge of rambling a bit. You stare down at the brochure in your hand and smile. “Thanks, Osc. This means the world to me, you know that? You mean the world to me.”

His face breaks out into a warm grin, and you can’t help but kiss him. He smiles into it, the way he always does when you first press your lips to his. Like he can’t quite believe it. You know the feeling.

He’s off to Minnesota in just a couple hours. You’ll be on your way shortly after that. You slip the brochure into your already packed carry on with a warm feeling in your chest.

…..

The guys fly out together, but you and Lily head there separately. The hotel you’ve booked is near the rink, just to make things easier. Max is the one to get you both set up with tickets to the game, since he’s the captain, so they’re relatively good seats, with a good view. By the time the game day rolls around, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Lily seems to be the same. You have a little pregame in your hotel room, just to take the edge off, really.

The arena is cold, like most of them are. It feels strange. You’re so used to the home rink that this one feels new and weird and sort of wrong. You file down to your seats and try your best to take it in. You look down at the ice, where in just a little bit, your friends will be playing their hearts out. Your boyfriend will be playing his heart out. You feel nauseous, suddenly.

Lily grabs your arm and squeezes softly. “Your stomach?” You nod, and she smiles sympathetically. “Yeah. That’s normal. I get it every big game Alex plays in.”

You frown. “I’ve watched so many games, though.”

“It’s different when it’s someone you… care about.” She says.

Her suggestion for a cure to the nausea is soft pretzels, so the two of you make friends with your seat neighbors, leave your jackets there, and head off in search of warm bread. It doesn’t take long to find it. You take small bites of the pretzel as you wander the arena. They’re selling merch- jerseys and beanies and anything else you could imagine. Both of you stop to buy something, wanting to remember this. Lily picks up a t-shirt for Alex. You buy a beanie for yourself and a baseball cap for Oscar. She studies you carefully, but she doesn’t ask any questions.

You stop her just before you get out to the rink again, in the walkway to the seats. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

She laughs and reaches for your arm again, squeezing. “Babe, it’s not hard to figure out. But what you said at the apartment, after the last game- it’s the playoffs. If you’re superstitious about it… I can wait to confirm.”

You take a breath and nod. “Okay.”

“But as soon as this is done, I’m kidnapping you and making you tell me everything,” she says. She squeezes your arm again. “Also, I’m very happy for you.”

You melt. “Thanks, Lily.”

The two of you get back to your seats just before they take to the ice for warmups. You catch yourself holding your breath as you watch Oscar skate loops and patterns around the rink. He goes through his normal warmup routine, he chats with Max and Charles along the way, and then he takes a second, spinning slowly on the ice and looking up at the crowd. You wave when he faces you. You don’t expect him to see it, but then he waves back, and your heart stutters in your chest. Lily’s not looking, too focused on Alex. You let the moment take a little weight off your shoulders.

The team hasn’t made it to the semifinals since you became friends with them. There’s something strange about this atmosphere. There’s so much resting on the game. You feel like you can’t quite relax, and maybe you won’t be able to for the whole thing. Then the puck drops, and Max takes it down the ice, and they score within the first two minutes, and you start to wonder if you ever had anything to worry about.

They win, easy and beautifully, and keep a solid two goal lead on the other team the whole time. They’re through to the finals. You and Lily hug each other in the stands, and you think she’s crying. You think you are too. Oscar’s down on the ice, hugging his teammates. Max stands in the middle of it, talking it all in. Lando bumps into him, grinning. Your boys. They look so proud. You’ve never been more proud.

You tell them as much when you find them after the game. They don’t have a lot of time- Seb’s set a strict hotel curfew, and you probably won’t see much of them until after the last game.

Lando pulls you into a hug in the parking lot of the rink, his face pressed against your shoulder. “One more game,” he says, quietly, and your heart breaks.

“One more,” you say, as Max comes up and hugs your other side. “So we make it count, yeah?”

Lando’s done after the finals game. It’s the last of competitive hockey for him. Max will be off to another team, hopefully, but he’ll be a rookie instead of a team captain. This last game will hold so much weight for both of them. They’re tired and nervous and you can feel it seeping out of them.

“How about I sneak you guys some pizza?” You suggest, and Lando pulls away, face lit up. “Not exactly on the meal plan, but…”

Max pulls back with a grin. “One last data point for the pizza theory.”

“Yeah,” you agree, ruffling his hair before smoothing it off his forehead. You do the same to Lando. “I’m so proud of you two, you know that?”

Any other day, they’d tease you for being cheesy. They’d roll their eyes and duck their heads and do anything to get you to stop. But today, Lando pushes his head against your head, a bit like a cat, and Max smiles, all squinty eyes. You smile, too.

Behind them, Oscar’s leaning on a barricade, talking to Alex and Lily. You want nothing more than to run over and kiss him, but the playoffs aren’t done yet. He smiles softly at you, and you smile back.

You order the pizza to your hotel and then walk it over to theirs, because Seb would definitely not approve and he’s more likely to catch the pizza delivery guy. Max lets you know that they’re hanging out in one of the conference rooms, and gives you directions on how to get there. The boxes are heavy in your arms- Lily had offered to come with, but two of you together would be even more suspicious.

They’re having some sort of movie night- a way to wind down and celebrate before practice tomorrow and the final game the day after that. You knock on the door lightly and hold your breath. Someone shuffles behind the door and then opens it.

It’s Charles. He grins, widely, and doesn’t even make a comment when you peer over his shoulder. They’re watching something with racecars on a giant projector screen. You hand over the boxes.

“Hi,” Charles whispers. “Thank you for the pizza.”

“Of course,” you whisper back. You know you won’t be invited in- the superstitions are running high, now. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Charles grins. “Thanks. We will see you soon, yes? Oh, and- you should take the stairs down.”

You blink at him, but you figure he’s just worried about you getting caught by one of the coaches. You nod. “Okay. Tell everyone I said good luck, yeah?”

He nods, and then he shuts the door.

You head off for the stairwell at the end of the hall, figuring it’s better to play it safe than sorry. You nearly jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat when you open the door. You come face to face with your boyfriend, and you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You understand the direction to take the stairs now.

“Osc,” you murmur, stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says, all pink cheeked and smiley. “You got my message, huh?”

You nod. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Charles knows.”

Oscar nods. “I can’t stay long. They’ll get suspicious eventually, and… you know. But I wanted to see you.”

You smile and cup his face in both of your hands. He grins into the kiss when you press your lips to his. His hands fall to your hips, warm and broad, holding onto you to keep you both steady.

“You’re going to the finals,” you tell him, pinching one of his cheeks as you pull away. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

He blushes even more at that, eyelids fluttering closed. “Just one more game.”

“One more game,” you agree.

Your heart twists in your chest. You wonder if he’s feeling what Max and Lando are feeling too, though maybe to a lesser extent. Last game with this team. One last time on the ice. Do anything to make it count. You hadn’t known your last game would be the last game. Oscar has a whole season left after this one, but it still must sting, you know it.

You kiss his cheek. “Go hang out with your teammates. One more game. I got you guys extra breadsticks, but if you don’t get there quick Carlos will definitely eat them all.”

Oscar sighs, rolls his eyes, and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears into the hallway without a trace. You find that you miss him nearly immediately.

…..

When they take to the ice for the last game- of the playoffs, of the season, of their time as a team, as this team- they don’t look nervous. You can feel the nerves in every inch of your body, every hair standing up straight, every muscle tensed. You’re shivering, but not from the chill in the arena. They look calm, cool, and collected. You suppose that’s a good sign.

Lily grips your hand tighter than ever as you wait. Every second ticks by so, so slowly- the anthem, the announcements, the pre game warm ups. You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. Oscar’s down on the ice, running his typical warm up drill, the one you know all too well. Skate from one side to the other. Shoot 3 pucks. Skate back to the other side. Find Charles, who’s waiting. Fist bump. Helmet pat from Max. Deep breath. Shoulder shake. Okay, here we go.

You hold your breath through the entire first period. No goals. You swear you can see the sweat dripping from Alex’s brow in the goalie box, even from up in the stands. Lily’s taken to gripping onto the armrest now, after she squeezed your hand a little too hard and you yelped. You’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands. Neither of you move during the period break.

They come back out onto the ice raring to go, ready as ever. The other team has two near goals. Max snatches the puck, finds a gap, takes off down the ice, and- he scores. You can’t even scream- it’s more of a sigh of relief, really. Next to you, Lily’s on her feet. You follow suit.

The other team follows it up with a goal of their own five minutes later. Lily winces when Alex hangs his head. You watch Oscar skate over to him, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He’s come so far, really, from staying by himself at practices to this. It warms your heart.

You grab Lily’s hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” you say, deciding to be sure of it. “This is it. They’ve got this.”

When the final buzzer rings out through the arena, you’re still holding her hand, fingers knitted together. You think she might be crying. You’re pretty sure you’re crying too. Nobody would blame you, really. There’s loud music playing, confetti flying through the air, and down on the ice-

A sea of blue jerseys, blue sweatshirts, Timberwolf blue, everywhere. Max is already holding the trophy, high above his head as he ping pongs back and forth between his teammates on the ice. They did it. You knew they would, but they really did. The Timberwolves are the national champions. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

By the time the two of you get your legs to work and make your way down to the ice, they’re already clearing the team off of it. They’re headed for the locker room, wide grins on their faces, yelling back and forth. Max is the first to spot you, followed by Lando- they’re sweaty and gross but you try not to make a face when they wrap you up in hugs- ones that are frankly uncomfortable with all their pads on.

“Bunny!” Max yells, basically in your ear. You’re searching the crowd over his shoulder, watching for Oscar. “We did it!”

You pull back and ruffle his hair, grimacing at the sweat. “I knew you would.”

Lando grins and knocks his shoulder against yours. “Yeah. Always been our biggest believer, huh?”

Your chest warms and tightens. You feel like you could cry again, but you’re smiling so, so wide. Oscar’s nowhere to be seen. He probably has no idea you’re even down here.

“We’re going to change,” Lando says. “And then we’ll see you at the bar down the street?”

You nod, sure your eyes are shiny. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Time to celebrate.”

“One more time,” Max says. Lando nods.

“One more time,” you agree.

Lily finds you seconds later and tells you she got the same message from Alex. When you see Charles on your way out, you stop, tugging on his wrist.

“I couldn’t find him,” you say, hating how pained your voice sounds, how obvious it all feels. Charles smiles. “Can you tell him…”

“I’ll tell him you were looking and that you’ll meet us at the bar,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod. “Proud of you, Charlie.”

He grins and wraps you up in a quick hug. “Merci, lapine.”

…..

After a quick stop back at your hotel room to change and freshen up, you find them in the bar, nerves coursing through your veins. They’re easy to spot, decked out in playoff and Timberwolves gear. The song that’s playing is loud in your ears, but not loud enough to drown out your racing heart. Lily squeals and drops your hand when she spots Alex, taking off across the bar to get to him.

Oscar’s in the middle of the sea of people. He has a drink in one hand, and his other arm around Charles’ shoulders. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His hair’s a half dried mess, his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a wide smile on his lips. He’s a national champion. Your national champion.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and it pulls you in like the tide. You cross the room, and he drops his arm from around Charles. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have heard Max yell your name, or seen Charles hold Lando back with an arm, or noticed Lily tugging on Alex’s arm to get him to look. You don’t, though. It feels like a movie, the way the whole crowd disappears. It’s just him and you. He hauls you into his arms when you get within reach, and one hand slip to hold your lower back as you wrap your arms around his neck. When his lips touch yours, the music and flashing lights fade away. All you can feel is Oscar, and the way he’s kissing you. He steals your breath away. From that very first day, when he walked into the house, bright eyed and new, to now- it’s all been leading up to this. He cradles your face in his hand and tugs at your lower lip with his teeth. You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair. And then-

You’re in a bar. Surrounded by your friends, his whole team. You’re pretty sure the coaches are here somewhere. You remember that, suddenly, when he pulls away abruptly. Your face is hot, his cheeks are red, but both of you are smiling. He’s so hot like this, oozing confidence and pride and you nearly lean in to kiss him again.

A hand appears between the two of you, and Oscar bursts into laughter. You turn and find Max and Lando standing there, looking utterly bewildered. You start to laugh, too.

“She has a boyfriend,” Lando scolds, eyes wide. “Bunny, you have a-“

Max rears his head back. “Lando, you are even more dumb than I am. He is the boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Lando says, though he’s in a bar so it’s more of a shout. “Oh! You fuckers, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Shots?” Carlos says, popping up next to Lando. He has a tray of shot glasses and limes in his hand. “Celebratory shots, anyone?”

You and Oscar both take one of the glasses eagerly, matching grins on both your faces. You cheers with each other and throw them back, reaching for lime slices at identical times, fingers brushing each other. You start to giggle again, feeling giddy. Carlos blinks around the circle at you and Oscar, and then his gaze settles on Lando.

“What is happening here?” He asks, jabbing a finger into Lando’s shoulder. “Lando, you look upset.”

“They’re dating,” Lando says, and Carlos is fighting a laugh, you can tell. “Each other. Apparently.”

“We will need more shots for this,” Carlos says, eyebrows raised. “I will be back.”

You and Oscar spend the next five minutes dodging slaps on the back and congratulatory hugs from the rest of his teammates- not on the win, but on your relationship. Carlos returns with more shots and Charles in tow. Charles, who’s got a wide grin on his face. You wince.

“I am so glad everyone finally knows,” Charles says, and both Lando and Max frown. “I’m very bad at keeping secrets, you know.”

“You knew?” Lando asks, blinking between you and Charles. “You told Charles first?”

Max reaches for a shot and throws it back as you start to explain. “He… figured it out. I didn’t tell him.”

Charles nods. “I am very perceptive.”

“But, but- we were looking for clues,” Lando whines, elbowing Max. “We had theories and evidence and— I almost bought a corkboard. And frickin’ Charles figured it out before us? And the whole time it was frickin’ Oscar?”

Max snorts and passes Lando a shot. “Mate, I think we are maybe just oblivious.”

Lando opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. He blinks at the shot glass in his hand. He holds it up and switches his gaze to your boyfriend, and then takes a deep breath.

“If you ever hurt her-“ he starts.

“Lando, we can give him the talk later,” Max interrupts. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Right now, we have a lot to celebrate.”

Lando rolls his eyes but nods. “True.”

You reach for one of the shot glasses. Everyone else follows suit, and you clink them together in the center. “To the national champions!”

“Hey, that’s us!” Lando yells giddily before he knocks the shot back.

Oscar deposits his shot glass back on the tray and pulls you under his arm. He’s not big on PDA- the kiss a few minutes prior being an adrenaline fueled exception- especially when being stared down by his team captain, your best friends. But the little bit of contact is nice. The heavy weight of his arm around you is comforting. Max turns and nods his head towards the bar.

“Alright, kids, first round of drinks is on me,” he says, grinning. “What will it be?”

He takes the orders, and Lando goes up to help him carry things. Lando gives you a hand motion, a vague sort of I’m watching you gesture. You roll your eyes. Oscar laughs. Next to you, so does Charles.

“This is all fun and games,” Charles says, pointing at Oscar, “until you have to ride back on the plane with them tomorrow. No escaping.”

Oscar pales and swallows tightly. You pat his back soothingly.

Max comes back with drinks and a grin on his face, Lando tagging along behind. It’s then that it hits you, square in the chest- their senior year, their last game, last chance, national championship. They did it. The thing they’ve been trying to do for years . Max is grinning so bright, so wide. Lando’s eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying. They did it. You feel your own eyes start to well up.

“M’so proud of you guys,” you say, voice wobbling.

“Oh, shit,” Oscar mumbles, already rubbing your shoulder soothingly, studying your face. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“She’s only two shots in,” Max says, sounding fond. “It is early for her to be this weepy already.”

“Shut up,” you grumble. “I’m emotional.”

“We have time to be sappy later,” Max says, patting the side of your head. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

It’s nice, more than nice, really, to get to be with Oscar like this. To lean against his shoulder without fear of what anyone else is thinking. He makes you feel so bright. It’s something about the way he looks at you every time he tells a joke, already laughing, looking to see if you are too. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and shining. When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you feel like you’re shining, too.

You dance badly with him to the bad music in the bar. You sit on barstools together and shout to be heard over the cacophony. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, because it’s with him. The two of you make the rounds with the rest of his team, and you tell them all congratulations on the win while they say the same about you and Oscar.

Logan grins and nudges your side. You ignore the fact that he’s far too young for this bar. “Should’ve known when you bought all that Australian food, huh?”

The truth is, you hadn’t even known then, not really. And yet, you think he might be right.

…..

Halfway through the night, you spot Max sitting in a booth in one of the corners, alone. You frown and nudge Oscar’s side, nodding your head towards the team captain. Oscar frowns, too, and shrugs. You frown deeper. He nudges your side, then, urging you towards Max. You lean up and kiss his cheek softly, giggling at the near immediate blush that rises up under his skin, and then head towards Max.

You slide into the booth across from him. He’s nursing a gin and tonic, and he gives you a smile when you sit down. It’s forced. You frown deeper still and tilt your head at him. It’s loud in the bar, but the sigh he lets out is big enough for you to hear it loud and clear.

“I’m fine,” he says, which is so obviously not true that you almost laugh. “Seriously, Bunny, go celebrate with your boyfriend.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the tone he uses, by the way he nearly trips over the word boyfriend. You blink at him. He sighs again and scrubs his hand harshly over his jaw.

“Talk to me,” you insist, knocking your glass against his lightly. “Come on, Max, you’re a national champion. You shouldn’t be pouting in the corner at your own party.”

He huffs, rolls his eyes, but his shoulders sag. “Everything is changing.”

You nod sympathetically.

“Everything,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s my last game, and soon it’ll be graduation and I’ll be leaving everyone, and Lando’s not even playing hockey after this, and you don’t trust me anymore, and-“

He tried to keep rambling, but you cut him off. “Max, what?”

He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It’s good, you know. To see you come out of your shell. I’m glad to know that when we leave you will have other people but- I know I look like my dad but I’m not him, Bunny. You could have told me,” he says, “and I would have been happy for you. I wouldn’t have called you a puck bunny. And I-“

You feel sick, all of the sudden. He called her a puck bunny last year. He did what? Max had a heated argument with his dad before he left after the game, one you heard about from Lando and in whispers between Charles and Carlos. The stress of everything is weighing so heavy on his shoulders, but for some reason this is the straw that’s breaking the camel’s back. You reach over and grab his wrist lightly.

“Max,” you say, emphatically. “We didn’t tell you because it happened on spring break and we wanted a little time just to ourselves,” you say, quietly. “And then it was the playoffs. Nothing changes during playoffs. My boyfriend has facial hair right now and I’ve put up with it because of the playoffs.”

Max looks up at you. A little anguish melts away from his face. “That is stupid superstition,” he says.

“Tell that to your beard,” you mutter. He laughs. “Max, you may look like him, but you are your mother’s child, through and through. I know who you are. That was never what it was about,” you say, shaking your head. “I just knew how important the championship was to the team. To you. To me. I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.”

Max sighs and shakes his head. “Your happiness is more important than some stupid trophy.”

“I am happy,” you say. He’s lit up by the soft glow of a hanging lamp, and you see him smile a bit, something lighting up in his gaze. “Happier now that I got to tell you guys, but. He makes me really happy, Max.”

The grin that breaks out across his face is contagious. “Then that’s all that matters,” he says. “That’s all we’ve wanted for you since the day we met you.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or do a mixture of both. Max seems to sense it, and he reaches out to squeeze your wrist.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head towards the bar, where Oscar is currently being interrogated by Lando. “We can be emotional later, yes? Right now, we have a championship to celebrate, and you have a boyfriend to celebrate with.”

…..

The night ends with you and Charles toting a very drunk Lando, Max, and Oscar back to your hotel. Lily had let you know ahead of time that she’d be heading back to Alex’s room with him, so yours is free. You’d much rather it was just Oscar coming back with you, but you couldn’t leave them all to Charles to watch over.

Oscar’s not a big drinker, not a heavy partier, but tonight he’s a national champion. You’d taken it easy and taken the responsibility off his shoulders. Now he’s leaning heavily against you as you walk back, his arm around your shoulders, his head knocking against yours. He’s rambling about something, words slurred. You’re nodding along like you can understand.

He stops on the sidewalk, mid sentence, even as Charles tries to corral Max and Lando out of the road. Your boyfriend turns to look at you, eyes wide and bright.

“I really like you,” he says, the clearest he’s sounded in at least an hour. “You know that, right?”

You laugh and press your hand to the side of his face. “Yeah, Osc. I really like you, too.”

He nods, reaching up to place his hand on your cheek, too. “You’re really cute. Can’t believe I get to call you my girlfriend. And I get to tell everyone now.”

You laugh and pinch his cheek. “You’re cuter.”

“Bunny!” Max yells from up ahead. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend. You have the room key.”

You scoff. Oscar blushes. The two of you hurry down the sidewalk towards your friends.

You drag all of them up to your hotel room with you, because Max and Lando shouldn’t really be left on their own, you want to keep Oscar with you, and it would be rude to leave Charles out. They fumble into the room, full of giggles. Max flops down on one of the beds. Lando lands on the other.

“Nope,” you say, shoving at Max. “That’s my bed.”

Max grumbles but rolls over anyways, sliding onto the floor between the bed and the little balcony. You snort out a laugh. Oscar sits down on the end of your bed and grins at you, cheeks rosy. You smile right back at him.

“Hey. You two,” Lando says, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he has his face smashed against. “No sex while we’re in the room.”

“Oh my god,” both you and Oscar say at the same time. You tack on a “Shut up,” for added effect.

Charles rubs at his face sleepily. “I need to sleep.”

Everyone seems to agree with that. You crawl into bed, and Oscar follows, seemingly too sleepy to be apprehensive about it even though your friends are in the room. He leans over and kisses your forehead.

“G’night, champ,” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles back.

“We are all champions,” Max calls out from the floor.

“Go to sleep,” Charles says with a whine.

…..

You’re the one to get all four of them up the next morning, ready with coffee and pastries from the hotel lobby to try and fend off the hangovers. You hand Oscar the hat you’d bought for him the night before, and he takes it gratefully, shoving it down on his head to cover his messy hair. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, but he’s grinning so wide. He’s subdued this morning- they all are, nursing the hangover of the century- but he still finds a second when nobody’s looking to pull you in with a hand on your hip and press his lips to yours. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel a little ridiculous for it, but when you pull away his cheeks are red, and you think maybe he’s feeling it too. The pride, mixed with getting to spend moments like these together. Celebrating together, recovering together. It’s all you’ve wanted.

You corral him, Charles, Max, and Lando out of the hotel room just before their call time to get on the bus. You walk them all the way to their hotel- it’s not far. Sebastian is standing outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his own eyes, clipboard in hand. He laughs when he sees the five of you.

“Carlos said you would have them,” he says, gesturing at all of you. He has one eyebrow quirked, like he’s trying to assess exactly what’s going on. “They are lucky their teammates were nice enough to gather their luggage. And, probably, that you were there to… take care of them.”

You shrug. “I’m not running a brothel or something, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, Bunny,” Max says with a roll of his eyes.

Seb balks. “That is not what I was saying, because that would be weird and inappropriate.”

“Forgive her,” Lando says, patting Seb’s shoulder. “She had a hell of a night.”

“She did?” Max snarks, nudging your shoulder before he follows Lando. “Do you remember what happened when she walked into the bar?”

Charles laughs, shakes his head, and gets on the bus, too. You’re left standing there with Oscar and Seb. Oscar pouts- he’s not one for PDA, especially in front of his coach, it seems- but he pulls you under his arm and dashes a soft kiss against your forehead. It’s enough, for now. It’s more than you’ve had before, really.

Seb clears his throat. “Sorry, lovebirds,” he says, pointedly looking up at the sky. “We’ve got to go.”

“Good luck with them,” you say, nudging your shoulder against Oscar’s.

He nods, making a solemn face. “If I don’t make it back, you know who to investigate first.”

You nod. “Carlos, probably.”

Oscar laughs, eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he’s stepping away onto the bus. You feel the distance in your chest already. Then you hear his teammates start to holler and whistle at him, and you laugh. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t love him.

Seb nods goodbye as he climbs onto the bus. Then he turns back over his shoulder, voice low, as he says, “you really brought him out of his shell. Thanks.”

The door closes before you can respond. It’s okay, though- you think it’s pretty plain to see, to anyone who’s ever looked at the two of you together- Oscar’s helped you just as much.

…..

note: thank you ALL so much for sticking with me & this story. i’ve got plans for one last part, but these next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic so please bear with me! tysm for reading, hope you enjoyed!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11 @tsireyasgf @si1ver06 @scopeiguess

[hoesformatt]

“YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT”

chris smut, this was an old draft but i fixed it up and here we finally have the long awaited plug fic…

dom!plug!chris • poc!reader friendly

contains: mentions of smoking and drinking, choking, heavy petting, making out, edging, orgasm denial, cowgirl, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 1.5k

not proofread

It was getting late, I was getting lonely and bored so I decided to go grab my smoke bag to find my tin. I got all giddy when I found my tin, but then my smile disappeared when I felt there was no weight to the tin.

Please tell me there’s something in here, please tell me there’s something in here, I repeated in my head but to no surprise, there was nothing but the whiff of weed and my hopes and dreams.

I contemplated on what I was going to do on my Saturday, either sit here and puff on my nicotine til I got nic sick, or call my plug aka my late night therapist, which I did not want to do.

He is my last resort call because of our history, my plug was one of the scariest people I’ve ever met and I try not to ring him too much because I do not want to see him… but I do at the same time. He is fine as fuck, I can’t deny that shit but I am petrified by him even so I’ve never given him my address and I always meet him at his place.

I decided to face my fears and shot him a text

Are u up?

What do you need mama

He replied immediately and called me that pet name that gave me instant butterflies

I ran out, I need a new pack of woods

it’s about fucking time

My heart dropped to my ass

you buy so much shit and then dip, I like seeing you

Fuck, what do I say. I was lowkey feeling how he was flirting with me. My thoughts were interrupted by another text

Let me pull up on you

Hell the fuck no.

The usual place?

Nah

Lemme pull up, it’s late and shit

It’s no problem, the usual place is good i’ll be there in 10

Being left on delivered, I was tripping out at this point. I guess I’m thugging it out tonight… sober. I grabbed my juicy peach ice, geek bar from the cushion beside taking a puff. May the pulse be with you I guess, I was thinking in my head too much, trying to remember where I put my blinker.

Hearing a car driving past my driveway, I glanced at my front door and the window beside it trying to see who is. A car door shut close and then the door soon began to jiggle and open.

I frantically ran into the kitchen but when I turned around and looked in the living room I saw my plug walking into my home, holding a plastic white bag, bee-lining for my couch “FUCK CHRIS, What the fuck are you doing here, how the fuck do you know where I live?!” This is exactly why I’m terrified of him.

My heart felt like it was beating 1000 beats per second right now, and it was not going down. It’s like he was a serial killer out for my blood. Apart from the fact that Chris walked into my house as if he owned it, I’m half naked wearing the smallest Ethika set ever.

My eyes almost instantly scaled to crotch, clothed behind his grey sweatpants. “I followed you home before” Chris had two paper bags, pulling out a dark liquor and a bottle of tequila. I was trying to still catch my breath, attempting to register everything at once. “Last time you needed shit it was around this time, a rando was watching you, so I followed him to your house,” Chris said it so casually, popping open the Hennessy “You have shot glasses? and chasers?” He looked up at me for a response.

Finally, I calmed myself down after he told me someone was following me and I just pulled out the glasses and sodas from my fridge “Get yourself one too” He suggested.

He then got up taking the can of Pepsi and the glass from my hands to my living room table. I slowly followed after him, finding my place, far away from him. “C’mere baby, don’t be shy” Chris gestured for me to sit beside him and I didn’t move an inch.

Chris grabbed his waistline pulling out a gun from there, tossing it casually across the other side of him then looked back at me. “Now what?” He arose from his seat to come and sit next to me, sliding a shot to me. “It’s too late for me to drink” I came up with a petty excuse. Chris scoffed, downing both of the shots without making a face, straight Hennessy.

“Ok.” He raised out of the position he was in taking the white bag beside him opening it pulling out packs of woods. “How much are you gonna buy then, since you want me gone.” I snatched two packs the Loose Leaf, Watermelon Dream from the pile, almost salivating about the thought of the high I was going to get. “Let me get my wallet” I got up but Chris’ legs were in my way “‘Xcuse” When I walked past him my ass brushed his face which Chris touched.

I gazed down at him, completely infatuated by my juicy ass, unable to keep his hands to himself. I brushed it off since I was too happy to care. I collected my wallet pulling out my cash, I handed it to him, still standing up “I don’t want your money” He said flinging the money in my direction. Chris’ glacial blue eyes fucked me, and he found it hard to control himself. I noticed his cock grew hard in his sweatpants, and he bucked his hips upwards, enticing me. “You know what I want.”

Finally I gave in, straddling his lap and his hands immediately pulled me down to press upon his hardness. I waved my hips, making him moan as I took control.

Chris grasped my neck with aggression while stripping me of my tube top, lowering it. He latched his lips to my nipples, moving his hands down to my hips and helping me wave them. “Take your shorts off.”

Raising me, I removed my shorts in anticipation as he set free his large length that slapped against his stomach. He whipped out a condom from one of his pockets sliding it onto his length. When I got back on his lap, he had licked his two fingers, dipping them into me then back out to lick his fingers. “You must love me with the way you’re so wet for me” Chris smirked, aligning himself to my pulsing cunt. He pushed my hips down to settle onto his cock, I threw my head back to the feeling of him stretching me out.

With no patience Chris began to thrust upwards with a tight grip on my waist, making my tits jump. I cupped my hands over my mouth because I couldn’t show him how good he was making me feel, reaching points I didn’t know were there. Chris smacked my hand "Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you” The sounds of his raspy voice and the wet noises faded together, I felt our wetness puddle under me. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel” Chris whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t believe that he was making me cum so quickly and he knew it, so he took his thumb and massaged my clit relentlessly trying to get the words out of me. “Tell me.” I shook my head no but my body was beginning to grow tired. Then he stopped. He stopped thrusting into me and I whined, “If I don’t make you fell good you should do it yourself right?” Chris didn’t care at all and I needed my release badly.

I took both of his wrist, putting them behind his head to ride my high. My erotic movements made Chris twitch inside me as he hit wall to wall.

It was so addicting that I wanted to feel him raw inside me and when I pulled his cock out of me, the condom was coated his sticky liquids. I yanked the rubber off his length and it slowly rolled up until it was off and I threw it elsewhere, jumping back on his dick.

Chris succumbed to my wetness, whimpering loudly as I wrapped around him. I bounced on his cock, hoping that my legs wouldn’t give up on me but Chris suddenly decided to take control again and ram into me. “I need to cum, I need to cum, please, please” I begged Chris to let me cum, reaching my climax. “Yes Chris, yes, yes—” Just as I was about to cum, Chris pulled out again and this time he threw me back on the couch.

“Please Chris, why— ” He had put back on his pants, packing up the rest of his shit.

“I don’t fuck ungrateful whores” He said casually, gripping my hair and kissing my cheek.

tags: @lunariaxzz @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @zayyluvz @i8kth @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @livvy4realll @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @love4chris @mattslutt @nickgetsmewetter @hearts4chriss @thenickgirl @jnkvivi

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[sunnys-out]

One for the road | Alex Morgan x Reader

Part 2 of Your damn cherry chapstick

A/N: Again we are going to, again, pretend that voicemails can be this long lol. Tech at work stopped working so was able to write this.

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, slight nsfw, not a happy ending

WC: 684

*Ring*

“Hey sorry I missed your call, just leave me a message and I’ll get back to you when I can! Bye!”

“Hey (y/n), this isn’t technically a text…but you will probably not even listen to this. So, I guess I’ll just say what I need to say for my own sake.”

Pause

“I remember the first time that I had met you…you were way too excited that morning practice…I was not. laughs Then we got paired up for drills and I could barely keep up with you…I don’t think you even broke a sweat”

Pause

“You were one of the few that had class after practice while the rest of us headed back to Clark Kerr to shower and sleep a bit longer. I made an off-hand comment as we were going our separate ways. I had seen a vendor near our dorm on the weekend selling strawberries and wondered when they would be back so I could buy myself some”

Pause

“I didn’t think about it until that evening…you knocked on my door with a small,green basket filled with strawberries. Honestly, I didn’t expect it especially from you...I mean we had just met. You just took one from the basket and took a bite, ‘just one for road as payment’ you said to me with a wink as you walked away to your room down the hall”

Pause

“I think that is when I started to fall in love with you…yeah I loved you…I probably still do…no, I still do. Sigh You became my best friend and I don’t ever think I can be as close to someone as I was with you. When we had our first kiss in the hallway of the frat house celebrating our win against Stanford…I swear I didn’t taste the tequila that you drank earlier but the strawberry you had the day we met.”

Pause

“I fell harder for you every day but I got scared…when you introduced me to Servando…I saw an easier future. You were everything I dreamed of but my career was just starting…I was becoming a poster child and the world is better but- I- sacrificed everything I had with you to have everything I have now. I hurt you I know…it hurts me knowing that. The Gala, I left you the moment I saw the recruiters, my fear came back again and I attached myself to Servando. You would be ok without me was my thought; you didn’t need me…Portland was smart to take you when they got created”

Pause

“(Y/N), I didn’t realize how much what I did affected you until you got injured for the first time in Portland. The eyes you shot at me when I approached you in the physio room to check on you. The force that you used to pushed me away, ‘Don’t fucking touch me’ keeps playing in my head when I remember that day. I really lost my best friend”

Pause

“You said that you remember the way I-...I remember those times too…I haven’t forgotten that. You were more than that to me. That last time…it was a goodbye but I just wanted to be close to you again to just be around you. I wanted to be near you when you had your career ending injury with Portland. That’s not what I did. I kept my distance when I saw you go down and from then on I kept myself from you.” 

Pause

“I did listen to your voicemail if it isn’t obvious…I’m sorry…You’re right when you say that I would think to run back to you if you showed up at the wedding…but it would only be a thought. I’m still that scared university student, fearful for her future but so in love with her best friend. You don’t deserve what I am doing to you, so this will be my last message to you ok? I love you and even if I won’t be in your life anymore…I will always be rooting for you…maybe in the next life we-... never mind. Goodbye, (y/n)”

…

[glcnpowell]

birthdays || 12/365 || also on ao3

//

He’s thirteen and Mav buys him his first leather jacket.

There are patches on the sleeves already - old squadron patches that Mav’s collected, sewn into the fabric by his mother. Her smile is just as bright as Maverick’s, her laughter infectious as she squeezes Bradley in a hug.

“Isn’t it sharp, baby? Looks so good on you.”

“I love it,” Bradley gushes, turning to hug Mav for the third time since unwrapping the box. “Thanks, Mav. This is awesome.”

Mav’s eyes are shining, his hand ruffling through Bradley’s curls. “You’re welcome, Bradley. Happy birthday.”

//

He’s sixteen and Mav takes him up in the Mustang for the first time.

The sky feels like home. Bradley realizes he shouldn’t feel hurt anymore by Mav leaving so often — how could Mav be kept from this? How could anyone?

Bradley feels the phantom thrum of the controls underneath his hands. He can see his future, knows instinctively that this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’ll be a pilot,” Bradley says into the headset, confident despite the slight crack in his still-changing voice. “Just like you, Mav. No backseat for me. I’m gonna fly.”

“I know you are, kid,” Mav laughs, guiding them back toward the hangar. “Can’t wait to see it.”

//

He’s seventeen and he realizes his mom isn’t going to make it to his eighteenth.

She’s tired. So goddamn tired. Bradley wishes he could do more, but he isn’t prepared for this. All the time in the world couldn’t prepare him for this.

He’s living in a world that constantly refuses to equip him. It isn’t fair.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Carole whispers, smiling as best as she can manage, her frail fingers tangled with his. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too,” Bradley whispers, hugging her close. “I bet — I bet I’ll be able to hear you, y’know? Up in the sky. The way Mav hears Dad.”

With his head resting on her chest, he can’t see her expression, but he feels her fingers tighten around his reflexively.

“You don’t have to be in the sky to hear me, baby,” Carole says, and it’s the strongest her voice has sounded in weeks.

//

He’s nineteen and he’s alone.

Shitty food network reruns, cheap beer, the low thump of music from one of the apartments downstairs. There are messages on his answering machine that he’s ignoring and a card left in the mailbox downstairs.

“Happy birthday, Bradley,” he mumbles to himself, popping the tab on another can of beer. “What’s one more.”

//

He’s twenty-four and swaying in the middle of a dance floor, tequila thrumming through his veins, when the realization hits him.

He’s officially reached an age his father never did.

Bradley thinks he mumbles an apology to the girl he’s been dancing with, but he isn’t sure. He walks on unsteady feet to the bathroom, ducking into one of the stalls and slamming the door shut, resting his sweaty forehead against the metal as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

He doesn’t know what a Bradshaw man is supposed to look like at twenty-four. He’s never seen it. It makes his stomach roll. The tequila burns even more on its way back up.

He’s wiping his mouth with a towel at the sink when he catches sight of his own reflection, sweat shining on his skin and stubble grown in around his cheeks. He brushes his fingers over his top lip, scratching against the hair there, and distantly remembers the way his dad’s mustache would scratch against his cheek.

When he shaves the next morning, he leaves the hair on his top lip alone.

//

He’s thirty-two and there’s another card in his mailbox, but there’s a text from a new number this time, too.

Happy birthday, Bradley. Heard from Ice about Top Gun. Congrats.

Bradley reads the text multiple times throughout the day. Blocks the number. Unblocks it.

At 11:58pm, annoyingly sober and exhausted, he finally replies.

Guess I didn’t need your help getting here after all.

Maverick doesn’t text him again.

//

He’s thirty-six and officially retired from active duty. Maverick’s hangar has become a second home to him again, just like it was when his mom was at her sickest.

“I’m older than her now,” Bradley says quietly, seated on the couch and watching the sun as it sets over the desert. “You realize that? I’m officially older than momma ever was.”

“I know, kid,” Maverick says, reaching over to clink his beer bottle against Bradley’s empty one. “It’s a hell of a thing, huh? Feels — undeserved, almost.”

“Does it go away?” Bradley asks. “It hasn’t with my dad. Guessing it won’t go away with her, either, will it?”

Maverick smiles, meeting his eyes. “Not completely. But your parents - they’d be so proud of where you are now. You’ve given them a hell of a legacy.”

Bradley’s quiet for a bit, long enough for Maverick to grab another bottle for them both. He speaks again when Maverick’s settled back with his book.

“I’ve hated my birthday ever since Mom died,” Bradley says. “Tried to avoid it, usually. Preferred spending it drunk or alone.”

Maverick glances at him. “Well, you aren’t drunk. Certainly aren’t alone.”

“Nah,” Bradley says, shaking his head. “And this is the first time in years I haven’t wanted to be. It’s the best birthday I’ve had in years, Mav.”

Maverick grins. “Wanna make it better?”

“How?”

“My birthday gift.”

Bradley snorts. “You get me another jacket?”

(Because he still has the one Mav got for him at thirteen. Treasured it even when they weren’t speaking.)

“Better,” Maverick replies. “Thought I’d let you fly a loop in the Mustang.”

Immediately, Bradley’s jumping up and heading toward the plane to get her ready to fly. Maverick follows him, laughing the entire way.

The sky feels like home. And just like he thought, he hears his momma’s voice in the roar of the wind.

Don’t you look sharp, baby. Thirty-six looks good on you.

[whereireid]

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

Summary: Drinking with Spencer turns out to be more eventful than you thought.

— warnings: fluff, alcohol

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making you feel warm and gooey, or the fact that Spencer’s hand hasn’t left your thigh since he slumped next to you on the sofa.

He’s drunk, that’s for sure. You both are. It’s been a rough day — for him more than you. It’s been a day so bad that when Spencer had come back to your apartment, mopey and dull, you’d taken the tequila out of your fridge and offered him a shot.

And another. And another.

“Do you think I’ll ever manage to save up and get my own apartment?” Spencer grumbles from next to you, his fingers trailing shapes on the skin of your thigh, his head lulling tiredly against your chest. 

“One day,” you answer honestly, your heart pitter-pattering in your chest as Spencer hums. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you take the chance to snuggle closer, your leg brushing against his. “But I don’t want you to.”

“Why not?” 

You bite your lip, focusing on the half-empty bottle of tequila as you speak. “I don’t know. I guess I’d miss you, Spence,” you mumble, your skin exploding with goosebumps as his fingers run up and down your skin. “Besides, it’s much safer with a literal member of the FBI living with me.”

Spencer snorts, the frame of his glasses rubbing uncomfortably against your shoulder, but you don’t comment on it. You’re afraid that if you do, he’ll move away, and that’s the last thing you want. No, you like Spencer being close to you, because it makes you feel good and warm and gooey.

“I failed my firearms qualification,” he mopes, sighing as you smooth his hair down gently in an attempt to reassure him. The touch makes his cheeks flush a wild red, and he hopes you don’t notice — and, if you do notice, he hopes that you think it’s because of the alcohol. “It’s hardly any safer with me around.”

“You’ll pass next time,” you offer, shooting him a gentle smile, and you try to ignore the way that your heart twists when his hazel eyes bore into yours. “I believe in you.”

“I’ve never failed at anything before,” Spencer slurs out, the dragging motion of his fingers stilling, his open palm resting on your thigh. There’s something intimate about the way he’s touching you and the fact that you’re allowing him. “It’s embarrassing.”

You grin, trying to ignore the way Spencer’s pitiful whining makes you yearn for him even more. “There’s a first time for everything, Spence,” you say, watching as his tongue comes out to wet his pink, plush lips, trying to ignore the way your stomach pools with warmth as he does so. “C’mon. Let’s stop the moping, and let’s celebrate instead.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Your first failure.”

Spencer tries to ignore the way his heart races in his chest when you lean in towards him, your hands planted on either side of his face when you speak. His senses are so dulled, and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact that he’s obsessed with how good you smell. He assumes it’s the Cantu coconut curling cream that you use — he’s smelt it on you many times before, but tonight, it’s making you insatiable and it’s making him dangerously unfocused.

And you’re thinking the exact same thing, because in your drunken state, the cologne he’s wearing seems to have become much more delicious. Spencer smells so good that it drives you crazy, and you beam at him sheepishly as he takes the shot you offer him, his face contorting into a grimace as he swallows the bitter liquid.

“Did you really mean it?” He asks, his hands now cupping your cheeks, his breath fanning against your face, flooding you with the smell of tequila. “When you said you’d miss me if I left?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, Spence. You know that.” You shoot him a smile, your face flooding with warmth as his thumb grazes over your lips. “Besides, you’d be able to tell.”

Spencer grins, sheepishly, his cheeks flushing a pastel pink as he gazes at you. “I’m going to ask you something and I need for you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay. Ask.”

His brows knit together, his tongue coming out to wet his lips again, and you curse yourself for getting so distracted by how adorable he looks. Spencer is so fixated on you that he doesn’t even realising how teasing he is, how being this close to you is only amplifying your attraction to him.

“Do you — do you like me?” He finally manages to stammer out, his ears flushing a twinge of pink as he speaks. “As in, like-like me? Because I think that I like-like you.”

You blink at him, drunken and confused, trying to piece together the words in your head. What they mean. And you’re pretty sure that you know — he couldn’t have been more obvious, but your heart is racing in your chest nonetheless because, holy shit, did Spencer Reid just confess he had a crush on you?

“I do,” you whisper, and Spencer’s grin widens, his entire face now a beet red. You’ve never seen him like this, so flustered and so intense. “I like-like you, Spencer.”

“Good. Because I feel more for you than a like-like, and it would have been really awkward if you said you didn’t feel the same just then.”

You didn’t think you’d confess to Spencer. Ever. And, now that you have, you’ve no idea what to do, blinking confusedly as the alcohol pulses through your bloodstream. Your body is warm and Spencer’s hands are insatiably hot as they press against your face, his close proximity clouding your thoughts. “Spencer,” you whisper, your eyes boring into his, your stomach tight with nerves as he gazes at you with pure, drunken adoration, “can I kiss you?”

“Please,” he breathes, his nose smudging against yours as you press your face to his, your lips intertwining, goosebumps prickling up and down your skin as he kisses you back, with the same feverish intensity. 

When you finally pull away, you feel hot, like an inferno. Your skin blazes wildly, and your eyes scan Spencer’s, whose so fixated on you that it makes you flush even hotter. Spencer’s lips are painted red, smudged with your lipstick, and you laugh, your thumb wiping away the mark that you left behind.

Spencer hesitates, his eyes scanning yours before he stutters out, “can you do that again? Please?”

You giggle, nodding your head. “I’ll do anything for you, Spence,” you say honestly, brushing the hair from his eyes as you lean in again, your stomach fluttering with butterflies as you kiss him, softly, your lips moulding with his.

You’re unsure of how you’re going to get any sleep tonight, because Spencer’s mouth on yours is more god-damn intoxicating than the alcohol you drank to get yourself in this position.

tags: @junieswrlds

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

So happy belated 3000! I know I am a little late to the party but we’ll, here I am 😅 I kinda missed the post for the „I love you 3000 writing bonanza“… But if you still take request I gonna leave this one here:

What about some smutty CEO!Ari „I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed“? Because… Ari is… 🥵

Ari is in a league of his own and it's been a while since I've written him so oh boy was this a treat!

Elementary - CEO!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Too many shots of tequila plus an insanely attractive boss equals an unforgettable night

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Fluff! Alcohol Consumption! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

You had no idea how you got into this situation. Well… actually no you did. To break it down into a simple mathematic equation (office party + alcohol) + insanely attractive boss = incredibly awkward and frankly stupid social interactions. 

From the moment you met Ari, you were completely smitten. You were surprised that you even got the job as his personal assistant after spending the majority of the interview drooling over his insane body which he teased with his rolled-up sleeves and one too many shirt buttons undone. Yet somehow you did, you guessed your extensive CV and experience did most of the talking because your mouth certainly didn’t. 

When you were offered the job you weren’t even sure if you should accept it or not. If you did you would have unlimited access to stare and daydream about him, you would be the person closest to him in the entire company. But you weren’t entirely sure whether you could actually do the job with a distraction as good as him only a short distance away. You didn’t think you could bear the embarrassment of being fired by him. 

Your friends and a couple shots of tequila gave you the courage to accept the job, because you were really, really good at being a personal assistant. So surely even if you were distracted you would still just be a good assistant. 

Thankfully it was surprisingly easy. While your crush remained it definitely became less intense and debilitating after a couple of weeks. You guessed it was because of Ari’s easy-going, charismatic nature. It was impossible to not become friends with him and with that friendship came an air of ease between you. He wasn’t a big terrifying CEO, he was just Ari. Did you still have fantasies about him? Yes of course, but you were still able to walk into his office and not be a bumbling mess. 

That easygoing friendship was irrevocably changed at the most recent office party. You couldn’t remember exactly why or what you were celebrating, you just knew that Ari asked you to book a private bar and make sure there was plenty of booze. Which you did, too well, because if there had been less booze you probably wouldn’t have made a fool of yourself. 

In your defence Ari is a terrible influence, all it would take was a flash of his lopsided smile and you’d do whatever he said. Including drinking more shots of tequila than you should have. You could argue however that you were a bad influence too, you were the one who dragged him out onto the dance floor. With so much alcohol pumping through your veins you didn’t think much about how you were moving your body, you just danced. Ari had laughed and danced along with you, the warmth of his hand never far from you as he held your hand, or ran it down your back or sides. 

“It’s a good thing dancing skills weren’t essential when I hired you” he laughed after you pulled out a dance move that was frankly criminal. 

You shot him a smile as you turned to face him, hips twisting as you placed your hands on his shoulders. He in turn rested his on your waist, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as your hands shifted down to rest on his chest.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you said beckoning him closer so you could whisper in his ear “I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed”

You could hear his quiet groan over the heavy bass of the music as he pulled away enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze turned so heated you were sure you were about to melt. 

“Oh really? Are you up for showing me those moves?” he asked, voice low, his hands drifting to the small of your back. 

You bit your lip as you smirked up at him. To hell with the consequences. You nodded your head. 

Ari gave you a wolfish grin “Let’s go then” he said, turning you around, keeping his hands on your hips as he led you out of the bar. 

You knew exactly where he was taking you, he’d asked you to book a bar in a hotel and to also book him a room so he could crash there without needing a driver to take him home. Your heart was pounding in your chest, electricity pulsing along your skin as heat pooled at your core. 

You’d barely stepped into the suite when you both began devouring each other. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and practically climbed him like a tree as he walked you back towards the bed. Your dress was discarded on the floor, and his shirt ripped open before the back of your knees even hit the mattress. 

Despite the amount of alcohol in your system, you felt 100% sober and aware as he knelt down, hooked your leg over his shoulder and dove in to taste you. If the alcohol was dampening your senses you wondered what this would be like sober because it was already so goddamn amazing. You weren’t even embarrassed at how quickly you came because it was the best damn orgasm of your life. 

As soon as he rose back up you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down on top of you, tasting yourself on his lips and his weight pressed down onto you. No time was wasted getting him completely naked and inside you. The stretch was so perfect that you were certain you were completely ruined. It was like a completely animalistic side of both of you won out as you clung onto him, nailed biting into his skin as he thrust deeply into you. 

The rest of the night was a blur, yet one you could remember with absolute clarity. You’d lost count of how many rounds you had gone but you knew that you had performed more positions in one night than you had in your entire sexual history. If you had a sex bucket list it would be halfway completed by the time you and Ari collapsed back into bed, too tired and out of surfaces to carry on. 

Which brings us to now. The moment you wake up, your body sore like you had climbed Mount Everest five times and your head pounding. You blinked a couple of times as your eyes tried to adjust to the light pouring in. Once they had it didn’t take you long to realise you weren’t in your bed, nor were you in your apartment. The weight draped across you was not your duvet, it was a long and muscular arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed the arm back towards its owner, alarm bells ringing when you saw Ari fast asleep next to you. Shit. You remembered every last detail from the night before, you didn’t regret any of it because how could you regret the best night of your life? But you were absolutely certain you were about to lose your job. 

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought at all though as Ari’s eyelid fluttered open and his bright blue eyes immediately landed on you. 

“Hey,” he murmured, voice deep with sleep. 

You instantly melted hearing his voice, he already had a deep sexy timbre but adding sleep to it just took it to a whole other level.

“Hey,” you whispered. 

His arm around you tightened, pulling you closer so your head was resting on his chest “I had a lot of fun last night… did you?” he asked, fingers tailing up and down your arm. 

“Yeah… I did” you admitted because there was no way you could lie to him. 

“Good” he hummed “wanna make it a regular thing?” you were silent for long enough that he added “And I don’t just mean last night, I mean dinners and all that other stuff people do together” 

You were pretty sure your heart skipped a beat, you gazed up at him and saw that lopsided smile that made it impossible to say no. And why the hell would you say no, more nights like last night and mornings waking up next to him? You’d be insane if you said no.

A smile crept onto your face as you nodded “I’d love that” you said quietly. 

Ari smiled back down at you, as he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly “Good” he grinned before shifting slightly beneath you “I don’t wanna talk about work but on Monday I want you to wear that cute little black pencil skirt” he smirked. 

You chuckled “Done, anything else you want me to do boss?” you smirked. 

“I want you to put out a job advert for another PA,” he told you. 

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you, yeah you loved the idea of being with Ari but you still needed a job “What?” you choked out. 

Ari shushed you gently “Don’t worry, you still have your job if you want it” he reassured you “I just think we’re gonna need another assistant to help out while we have some fun in my office” he grinned. 

Your smile returned to your face as you nodded “It’ll be the second thing I do Monday morning” 

Ari arched a brow “What’s the first?”

You bit your lip as you shifted closer to him, your lips a breath away from his “you” you whispered before kissing him deeply.

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Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[slvtforfiction]

Truth or drink (pt.2!)

☆ Colby X reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Suggestive (No smut) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Masterlist

☆ Part 1

☆ A like,reblog and comment is always appreciated:) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Cw: alcohol obvs (idc what u say tequila rose is banging,fight me)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I’ve lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

Colby 🖤:

Hey doll,you wanna do drink or truth again? Like a part 2 but just us?

You:

Yeah sure,am I gonna get embarrassed again?

Colby 🖤:

Welp we both are so does it matterrr?

You:

Oh god tell me some of the questions then 🤦‍♀️

Colby 🖤:

Maybe some about kinks and maybe something about some other stuff :)

You:

Yay I’m so excited this is going to make me want to really do more videos with you!

Colby 🖤:

Laying on the sarcasm pretty thick

You:

If your asking if I care,I don’t :)

Colby 🖤:

Love you’re always sarcastic,I’ll see you down here in 10 hm?

You:

Okay,omw x

Colby 🖤:

Good girl,see you soon x

I blushed leaving him on read as I changed my top to a red and black crop top he had gotten me and some black ripped jeans that I got on a shopping trip with him along with some fishnets below them to spice it up.

I walked upstairs to his apartment which was right above mine and knocked his door waiting patiently for an answer.

He quickly answered and I saw the living room already set up with a tripod,camera,2 shot glasses,tequila rose for me and Smirnoff vodka for him.

“Oo my favourite!” I smiled as I realised he had remembered my favourite alcoholic drink.

“Yeah ofcourse.” He said smiling clearly knowing i would say yes to the video idea by the already prepared drinks.

He finished the intro and grabbed his phone reading out the first question, “Why do you not talk to the last person you “did the dirty” with?” And I looked at him,looked at the shot glass and poured myself a shot downing it immediately.

“I still speak to the person I last slept with so,” I shrugged,not wanting to actually admit on camera that Colby and me were dating and therefore he was my last.

“Same but I don’t think they want to be public so I’m drinking.” He said before taking a shot and smiling at me.

I always seemed to find comfort in his smile no matter what he was smiling at or who he was smiling at,although I thought it was a much better feeling when he was smiling at me.

“What is your favourite activity with your significant other?” He asked as he looked at me softly,his gaze mesmerising.

“I like just laying on the sofa with them and cuddling,it’s the little things you know what I mean?” I smiled back as he looked at the camera clapping his hands together.

“I don’t really know I think just their presence in anything I do is really special to me,I just like everything I do with them.” He said smiling softly and I smiled,blush running to my cheeks.

I knew after this video I was ready,ready to go on twitter and scream and rave about him being my boyfriend as long as Colby didn’t mind.

“Name 2 non-vanilla kinks you have.” He said smiling at me before he saw me pick up my drink,watching his smirk fall of his face.

“You know what? If you answer I’ll answer.” I said laughing putting my drink down. “Oh god Uhm okay.” He said laughing nervously clearly not expecting that.

“Can we say ones we said in the last truth or drink video?” I asked and he shook his head. “Nah that’s boring and also you can’t anyways because you said vanilla kinks.” He said smiling at me.

“Okay you say yours then and I’ll say mine I guess.” I said laughing nervously and he looked me dead in the eyes before leaning back on the sofa and putting his hands behind his head,kissing his teeth.

“Okay um,I’m nervous now.” He said laughing before kissing his teeth again and answering “okay um I like tying up my partner and I mean if a girls gonna call me daddy she’s gonna call me daddy.” He said and I giggled to myself.

“I didn’t actually think you would answer.” I whined not wanting to answer. “Well come on you have to answer now.” He said laughing at my embarrassment and im sure by now he had figured out my humiliation kink although I wouldn’t have said that anyways.

“Okay uh I have a size kink and I really like hickeys and stuff so I guess marking?” I laughed nervously as I realised my boyfriend was the one sat next to me probably making mental notes to himself.

Colby cracked up laughing as he clapped his hands together trying to make sure I knew that he was going to use this against me and honestly I was definitely wanting him to tie me up after this video.

We soon moved on and after about an hour of filming we got to our last question, “What’s one thing you dislike about me?” He asked and I shuffled closer to him to whisper in his ear.

“That you haven’t tied me up underneath you yet.” I then turned round and grabbed my drink,pouring myself another shot,at this point I had had about 10 shots,so what’s another one?

I downed my drink and he quickly downed his before ending the video.

“Don’t say shit like that to me whilst filming.” He said,I smiled and turned around from the fridge after grabbing myself a bottle of water.

“Hm I’ll think about it.” I said and he continued to walk up to me,cornering his hands around my waist against the counter top.

“Do you want to be tied up like a little slut?” He asked “Is that what you want hm?” And I smiled at him whilst he remained silent and faking his anger.

“Maybe it is..daddy.” I whispered in his ear before kissing down his neck,he picked me up by the waist and carried me upstairs.

“Wanna cuddle up on the sofa,beautiful?” He asked softly raking his hand through my hair as I laid my head on chest.

“No,wanna stay here.” I mumbled half asleep and fully naked still lying on his chest.

He had his boxers on and got up quickly leaving me on the bed barely able to move.

“Come back Colbs.” I whispered and he smiled, “I will im just going to get you a shirt,okay?” He asked and I smiled sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“Can we be public? Like us?” I asked quietly scared to even suggest it “Yeah sure,I’d like that.” He smiled looking back at me.

“I’ll post it on twitter tomorrow morning if you still want to yeah?” He asked and I whispered an ‘okay’.

His lights remained off,his LEDS being the source of red light throughout the room and I smiled bashfully again as he lifted up an arm and then another putting me in his xplr shirt.

The room still smelt of sex and my wrists still had marks which Colby would religiously kiss for the next few days.

“Love you Colbs.” I said before falling asleep with an arm wrapped around me and another still taking through my hair.

“I love you too sweetheart.” I heard him whisper before dozing off.

[slxsherr]

Feeling Like I Never Should

read part II here

pairing: kirby reed x fem!reader x charlie walker

summary: kirby is your best friend, which is why she knows you and charlie will never get together without a little outside help.

wc: 3077

warnings: fem!reader, inexperienced!reader, inexperienced!charlie, dom!kirby(?), cursing/swearing, descriptions of alcohol & alcohol consumption, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), squirting, creampie, virginity loss

a/n: this is kinda very kirby centered but for good reason

Kirby is your best friend, and as your best friend she knows exactly when you need a push. Especially when it comes to Charlie. She loved to make the two of you squirm, to tease, to torment, until you were both a mess. 

You like Charlie, maybe more than a friend should, but his obvious feelings for Kirby have stopped you from ever pursuing him as anything more than a friend. But Kirby knows something you don’t, that no matter how much she heckles or taunts Charlie, no one makes him squirm like you do. 

His logic isn’t half bad, feign interest in her so that you don’t suspect his feelings for you, but one thing the dweeb never considered is that you might reciprocate his feelings. It’d be cute how oblivious the two of you are if it wasn’t so pathetic. Both of you pining over the other, too afraid to make a move. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Kirby asks you, shutting your locker abruptly and startling you.

“Please stop doing that,” you groan, ever the unexpecting victim of Kirby’s jumpscares. 

“You know I can’t,” Kirby says, disregarding your request. “So, any special Friday night plans?” 

“I’m alone again this weekend, so probably just takeout and—” you begin to say, but Kirby interrupts you. 

“And a rager?” She suggests jokingly. 

“No,” you shoot down her idea quickly, even if she wasn’t being serious. “Charlie wants to come over to plan Stab-A-Thon and my sister left behind some werewolf trilogy so we’re probably gonna watch that,” you answer, bracing yourself for Kirby’s response. 

“Sounds like a hot date,” she says sarcastically, reveling in your involuntary embarrassed reactions.

“Shut up. Why are you asking?” You say, changing the subject. 

“Because Jill, Olivia, and I are going to a party and I thought I’d extend an invitation, but you have plans. So, invitation withdrawn,” she answers, a teasing lilt in her voice. 

“You’re just gonna end up watching guys fawn over Olivia and Jill spend the entire time on the couch with Trevor,” you tell her, knowing that inevitably she will show up at your house sometime after two in the morning, drunk off her ass and complaining about how lame the party was. 

“At least there’ll be some free booze. See you later!” Kirby says before walking away. 

It doesn’t take long for you and Charlie to plan Stab-A-Thon for the third year in a row, sharing Chinese takeout while going over location, equipment, and all the other small details of the club’s most notorious event. Pretty soon you’re both sprawled over your couch, dissecting the first movie that your sister described as a feminist cult classic, your legs resting comfortably over Charlie’s lap. 

“Honey! I’m home!” Kirby yells, interrupting the second movie, letting herself in with a copy of your house key that you gave her freshman year. “And I’m really drunk!”

“Is that Kirby?” Charlie asks when you pause the movie, confused. 

“Yeah, I guess she decided to bail on the party early,” you say, getting up to bring her to the den. 

“Ugh, you were right,” Kirby says when you meet her at your front door, struggling to take off her shoes. “Olivia left with some guy and Jill barely let go of Trevor’s arm. But I got this!” She says, kicking off her shoes and holding up a bottle of tequila. 

“I don’t think you need anymore of that, come on, I’ll get you some water,” you say, leading her to the living room. 

“Charlie! How’s the werewolf trilogy?” You hear Kirby ask while you go to the kitchen to get her water. 

“Basically a high-budget snuff film,” you catch the end of Charlie’s thoughts on the movie when you come back with a water bottle for Kirby. 

“Ooh, will it be brought up at the next club meeting?” Kirby asks, pulling your back to her chest when you join them on the couch, resting her chin over your shoulder. 

“Maybe,” Charlie says, taking a swig of the tequila Kirby must have given him while you were in the kitchen. 

“Drink some water, you need to sober up,” you tell Kirby, twisting in her hold to raise the now open water bottle to her lips. 

“And you need to loosen up,” Kirby says, drinking the water reluctantly. 

“Only if you drink some water,” you say, handing her the plastic bottle. 

“That’s my girl!” She cheers, drinking more water while you turn back around to face Charlie. 

Your fingers brush against Charlie’s when you take the tequila from him, lifting the heavy bottle to drink the unpleasant clear liquid. It burns as it goes down your throat, settling hot in your stomach, the heat seeping throughout your body. Your face scrunches at the bitter taste, and you already know Kirby’s gonna have something to say about that. 

“Aw, do you need a chaser?” She teases, wrapping her arms around your waist, empty water bottle dropped to the floor. 

“Something tells me you didn’t bring any,” you rasp, relinquishing the bottle back to Charlie. 

“It’s not so bad,” Charlie says after taking another drink.

“I’ve had better,” you say, nursing the bottle, keeping it away from Kirby as she playfully bites your shoulder. 

Without mixers, it’s not long before half the bottle is gone and you and Charlie are about equal to Kirby’s somewhat less intoxicated state. The movie is long forgotten, frozen at the end of the first act. The three of you are squished at one end of the couch, you’re slumped against Kirby, legs thrown over Charlie’s lap, listening to Kirby’s drunken rundown of the party she left and how she stole the bottle.

“Hold on, I gotta pee,” she says, pushing you off of her to run to the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” you say, hearing Charlie groan when you’re shoved onto his lap. 

“No, you’re fine,” he says, hoping you don’t realize the hard situation he’s in. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna finish the trilogy tonight,” you giggle, laying back where Kirby was seated. 

“Definitely not,” he says, hands nervously resting over your thighs.

“I’m back!” Kirby announces her return, and you sit up to let her return to her spot.

“That was fast,” you say, shifting halfway on Charlie’s lap, too distracted by Kirby to notice him throwing his head back, his hands just barely gripping your skin.

“God, you’re such a tease,” she says, pulling you off of his lap and towards her once she’s sat. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, relaxing into her hold.

“Look what you’re doing to him,” she says, redirecting your focus to Charlie. “He’s pitching a tent just from you crawling over him like a little minx.”

“That’s not—” he tries to deny it, face flushing from being called out, but Kirby cuts him off. 

“Are you gonna help him out with his problem or not?” She asks you, both you and Charlie shocked by her words. 

“D-Do you want me to help you?” You ask him, head fuzzy from the night’s turn of events.

“Yes,” Charlie answers, and as soon as the word leaves his lips Kirby is pushing you onto his lap. 

Your thighs straddle his hips, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders from being moved so abruptly. Looking between them, you’re unsure of what to do, but as your best friend, Kirby already knows of your lack of experience. She moves closer to the two of you, cupping your cheek and turning your head to face her. Leaning in, she presses her lips to yours, kissing you wantonly. You return the kiss, albeit a bit sloppily, lips parting when her tongue swipes at your bottom lip, licking into your mouth. She pulls away soon after, not wanting you to forget about Charlie.

“Kiss him like that,” she instructs you, turning your head back to face him. 

You lean in, goosebumps rising across your skin as a shiver tingles down your spine from his intent gaze, pupils dilated from lust and alcohol. Pressing your lips to his, you copy Kirby’s movements the best you can, kissing him sensuously. He kisses you back hungrily, as if he wished to devour you. When your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, he parts his lips just as you did for Kirby, and follows your lead as your tongue meets his. The makeout is messy, both of you new to the act, and Kirby takes the opportunity to move Charlie’s hands to your hips from where they rested on your thighs. 

“Move her however you like,” she whispers in his ear, giving him the go-ahead to grind you on his crotch. 

Charlie’s hands move your hips slowly, his own hips bucking up to meet yours as you whine into his mouth. He’s not quiet either, low moans escaping him at the lewd acts unfolding. Your nails scratch at the fabric of his flannel, supporting yourself with his shoulders as heat pools in your core. Despite the layers between the two of you, the friction is just enough for a wet patch to appear in your panties.

“Alright, calm down, greedy boy,” Kirby says, pulling you away from the kiss by your shoulders. “Wouldn’t want you finishing before the main event,” she teases, having heard the desperation in his voice as the two of you began to get lost in pleasure. 

“Be nice,” you tell her, the words slipping out without thought. 

“You want me to be nice?” She asks, her mouth stretching into a devious smile. “Come here,” she says, scooting to the edge of the couch, back to the armrest, where she sat when she first arrived. 

You make your way towards her, letting her flip you around to face Charlie when you get close, your back to her chest like before. Her fingers play with the hem of your top, soft lips brushing against your skin as she leans forward, whispering in your ear to lift your arms. You do as she says, arms rising above your head, and she pulls up your top, exposing you to Charlie. He’s watching attentively, you can feel his stare hardening when your bra comes into view, fabric lifting over your head and being thrown to the side. 

“Come closer, Charlie,” Kirby says, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, moving closer to the two of you, slotting himself between your legs. “Isn’t she pretty?” Kirby asks, fondling you over your bra, and your breath hitches from her actions. 

“Yes, she’s very pretty,” he says, voice low and airy. 

“Do you wanna play with her tits?” Kirby asks, pulling the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts. “Go ahead,” she says, when Charlie only responds with a nod.

His hands are surprisingly cold, a shock to your overheated skin. Kirby undoes your bra, sliding the straps down your shoulders and stripping you of the last garment on your upper body before placing her hands on top of Charlie’s. She guides his hands to be less gentle, and you watch through hooded lids as he lowers his head to your chest. 

His tongue flicks over your pert nipples, testing for your reaction, continuing when he hears your soft whines. Kirby pulls his hair back, giving you a better view as he mouths at your tits, licking and sucking your hardened buds, skin shining from his spit. She pulls him away from you harshly by his hair, holding him in place.

“If you wanna get your dick wet, you need to prep her,” Kirby says, letting go of him. “Take these off for her,” she instructs, snapping the waistband of your shorts and panties against you. 

You lift your hips so that he can pull your bottoms off, and he accidentally pulls you closer to him, your head sliding down to rest against Kirby’s stomach. She doesn’t say anything, watching him push your legs up to slide the last of your clothes off. You’ve got your thighs pressed together tightly, feeling vulnerable being the only one naked, but Kirby doesn’t allow that for long. She forces your legs apart, giving Charlie a clear view of your wet cunt. 

“This,” she says, one hand trailing down to spread your folds with two fingers. “Is her clit, play with it right and you both get a prize,” she continues, rubbing tight circles on the bud, making you mewl as your hips buck for more. “Be patient,” Kirby warns you, pulling her fingers away to hold your hips down, ignoring the whimper you let out from the loss of friction. 

Charlie’s fingers replace Kirby’s, messy circles leaving you breathless as you moan quietly. Eyes screwed shut in pleasure, you don’t see him moving down until his mouth meets your core. He licks a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking the bud experimentally between his lips. You’re left keening from his actions, Kirby’s hands keeping your thighs from shutting around his head and hips rolling for more.

“Good boy,” Kirby coos from behind you, watching Charlie eat your pussy like a man starved. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. “Now stretch her hole with your fingers,” Kirby instructs, ignoring your hands gripping the wrist of her hand holding your hips down.

Charlie slides a finger in tentatively, stroking your walls gently. You’re a whiny mess, begging for more, sweet voice echoing through the room. He slips another finger in, your tight walls sucking him in greedily. His thick fingers prod deep inside you, massaging a spot that has your stomach twisting in pleasure.

“Charlie,” you moan his name, breathing heavy as he fucks you open with his fingers, face flushing in embarrassment when you hear your pussy squelching lewdly. 

“Is he making you feel good?” Kirby asks, and you nod quickly, thighs trembling as she holds your legs open. “Is he doing a good job?” She asks, enjoying the way you struggle to muster even a non-verbal response as you do your best to nod. “No, use your words, hon. Tell him how good he’s making you feel, how good of a job he’s doing,” she says, watching your glossy eyes meet Charlie’s. 

“Feels so good, Charlie,” you say between ragged breaths, mewling when he thrusts his fingers harder. “You’re doing such a good job!” You cry, ears ringing and gripping Kirby’s arm tighter as you begin to teeter over the edge. 

“Stop,” Kirby says, and you whine at the empty feeling when Charlie pulls his fingers out, your orgasm ruined. “Shh, don’t worry, love. You’ll get to come,” she reassures you, massaging your thighs. “Take your clothes off, Charlie,” she instructs him, and he wastes no time stripping. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he says, down to his boxers, slowly moving back to where he was between your legs.

“You don’t need one, you’re both virgins and she’s on the pill,” Kirby says, pushing him to sit back to cushion, moving you onto his lap. 

Your thighs shake when you straddle him this time, nothing separating the two of you now. His dick is pretty, pale with a pink, almost red, tip, shiny from leaking pre. He’s got a protruding vein on the underside, you lick your lips wishing you could trace it instead, a trimmed dark patch of curls trailing up. 

“Spit,” Kirby says, interrupting your thoughts, holding your hand up to your mouth. “Good girl,” she praises you when you let your saliva dribble into the palm of your hand. “You’re lucky,” Kirby says to you, wrapping your hand around Charlie’s dick. “To have such a pretty cock as your first,” she finishes, pumping your fist leisurely around him. 

The sight of Charlie is sinful, almost pornographic moans slipping past kiss-swollen lips. His hair is a little messy from Kirby’s rough handling, blue eyes glistening as he watches Kirby move your hand around him, hips desperately meeting yours for more. But Kirby reminds him who’s in charge, hand holding him in place just as she did you before stopping your movements altogether. 

“Now sit,” Kirby says, pulling your hips up and lining him up with your entrance.

Charlie’s hands hold onto your hips as you sink further down, thick head stretching your hole as you lower. It’s not as painful as so many of your friends had said when they told you about their first time, moreso uncomfortable as his shaft stretches you wider than his fingers prepared you for. Your mouth is open in a silent cry, gravity forcing you further down and it feels like you’re being split apart.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks when you’re fully seated, hands kneading your hips comfortingly.

“Yeah,” you answer, getting used to the full feeling, gaze shifting to Kirby’s, a question in your eyes.

“Ride him,” Kirby says, hands on top of Charlie’s, guiding you up and down his cock. 

Your hands find themselves on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself as you’re bounced on his lap. You moan wantonly as the two of you move together, pleasure zinging through your bodies each time your hips slam down. Kirby removes her hands from Charlie’s, one instead softly tracing across your lower back as you lose yourself, trembling as he thrusts up to meet your movements. 

A string of expletives leave his mouth, a whispered groan as he no doubt nears his release. It’s cute, Kirby thinks, how desperate the two of you are to finish. You hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder, hands tugging at his hair as your hips struggle to keep up with his punishing pace, moaning incoherently into his skin. 

But Kirby can’t have that, so she sneaks a hand between your bodies, rubbing frantic circles on your clit. Your whole body tenses up, taut like a string, biting into Charlie’s shoulder to muffle your wail as your release sprays against his stomach and thighs. He fucks you through it, despite your walls tightening to push him out, hips jerking as he pulls you down one last time, coming inside you.

Kirby is your best friend, but even in her drunken state she can recognize that maybe that’s not a good enough excuse for what she did tonight. Driving you into Charlie’s arms just because she doesn’t have the balls to admit she’s in love with you is somehow worse than Charlie’s misdirection strategy. But that’s a problem for hungover Kirby, she thinks.

[imightgetbetter]

wedding shenanigans

this is straight filth. i don't even know what anyone wants me to say about it. just .. yeah cw: oral (male receiving), exhibitionism (i guess?)

Matty’s curls fell loosely over his forehead, his nose tucked into your hair as his thumb rubs over your shoulder gently, his eyes trained on the person speaking across from you. His thigh is relaxed under your hand, your thumb barely moving as you pay attention to the story. Matty’s hands have been on you all day, from the moment you slipped on the pale, yellow satin and asked him to adjust the back for you. His hands ghosted along your skin, his thumbs tucking under the curves of your breasts and his mouth leaving delicate kisses across your shoulder blades. His disregard for your warnings was proven by his hums against your skin, telling you that he didn’t like that he would have to see you arm in arm with another man, even if it was only up and down the aisle. ‘Not like I’m marrying the guy, Matty,’ you’d said, in hopes that it would ease some of the jealousy you could feel piercing the air in the hotel suite. Matty shook his head, saying he would all but collapse if you ever said such a thing again. He was always one for dramatics, not that you minded very much, you were always one dramatic reaction behind him.

“Obsessed with this dress, baby,” Matty hums against your cheek, kissing you sweetly before leaning back in his chair and grabbing his drink to take a pull of the liquor. “Made that guy look like a proper wanker.”

“Hey,” you say, patting his inner thigh warningly, his eyebrows ticking up at the gesture and his spare hand grabbing yours before you could inch any higher, “be nice. He’s a nice guy.”

“Keep saying that he’s a nice guy, love. Making me believe you were more than his friend,” Matty snickers to himself, shaking his head as he finishes the last of his tequila. His lips purse at your silence and suddenly distant stare, “Were you? More than his friend?”

“None of that matters, now,” you say, turning your body in your chair and leaning into him, your chin leaning on his arm as you stare up at him. “I’m here with you. Not to mention, you and I have been together nearly six years. I’m marrying you, too. That should all matter more than a guy I slept with in college that doesn’t even matter, now.” Matty nods slowly, a bit too slow, and you know what’s happening. “Matty, seriously, don’t go silent on me. I’ll give you a reason to be annoyed if you’re going to act this way.”

Matty knows that you’re telling the truth, that you will give him a reason to be annoyed and angry if he really wanted to behave as if you were teenagers, again. He knows that it doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean that using the slight edge to his voice and the way you can’t seem to take your hands off him for granted. “Can I ask you a question, baby?”

“Are you going to make me angry?”

“Never,” Matty smirks, gently brushing your hair behind your ear and leaning his head down to meet his mouth to your ear. “Will you tell me something, YN? Has anyone else ever made you feel as good as I do?”

“Matty,” you whisper, your hand grappling at his thigh tighter than before. He must’ve noticed the way you were eyeing him in his suit, the primly pressed button down and the well-fitted jacket, the way his curls were falling perfectly in his face. He must’ve noticed the way you couldn’t take your eyes off of him during the ceremony, always glancing over at him even though you should’ve been looking at the bride and groom. He certainly must’ve noticed the way you clenched your thighs together every time he twirled your engagement ring around your finger and mentioned your own wedding, the way you do things so different. He must’ve noticed the way he effectively wormed into your brain, itching under your skin. Matty must’ve noticed, that’s why he’s doing this, right here, right now, in the middle of the reception, in the middle of a lively conversation at your table. “Don’t do this here. I, I don’t think I can sneak away without making it quite obvious what we’re going to do.”

“Only asking you a question. Have you ever cum the way you do with me? Answer me, this time.”

“No.”

“Do you think any other man in here could make you feel the way I do? Could do all that I do when you’re insatiable and needy?” His words drip like honey down your spine, making your skin prickle with goosebumps, and you suddenly are very aware of how hot your cheeks have become and the way your hand is nearly covering his groin. “I would like to see you on your knees, right about now, acting like the perfect little slut you are for me.” Matty pulls away from your ear and grabs his drink, acting as though he hadn’t said the filthiest thing in your ear. Not another person at the table or in the reception is looking at you, and why would they be? It’s not your wedding. Matty and you slipping away for fifteen minutes would barely be noticeable amidst the dancing and familial speeches. You could very well do it, and the idea of Matty saying anything in that vain again has you clenching your thighs and willing the thoughts of falling to your knees out your brain. “Hm? Nothing to say now? What’s got you so speechless, gorgeous?”

“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” you say in a mere whisper, sliding your hand down his thigh and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of your chair and wrapping it around you. “I’m going to get some air while everyone is dancing, I’ll be back!” you say with a smile, desperately trying to brush off the way your cheeks feel like they’re going to be set on fire.

Outside, the chilled air felt like a sweet relief, the stars twinkling amidst the moon guiding your quickly made walk to the bathrooms, your hand quickly knocking against the door, trying to hear if anyone would be in there for you to lock the door. Upon a quiet response, you open the door and lock it, shrugging off the suit jacket and leaning over the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror. Over the years, you have done some questionable things with partners, especially in the years you were desperately trying to forget Matty back in Manchester. With Matty, though, there is something in you that just never gets enough. Matty could ask you to fall on your knees and you would. He is just something else, lighting your skin on fire with every touch and making your thighs shake with every kiss. He was everything and anything, and hearing him talk about marrying you was enough to make all your rational decisions fly out the window.

“Open the door, gorgeous,” is accompanied by three quick knocks, and you’re rushing to the door, pulling him in by his collar and attaching your mouth to his. He smiles against you, locking the door blindly and grabbing your ass tightly, wrinkling the back of your dress without second thought. “Obsessed with you, you know that?” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling away and beginning to leave a trail of kisses along your neck and his hands bunching your dress around your hips. “I want to see you on your knees, beautiful. My pretty girl with my cock in her mouth.”

Grabbing his suit jacket and laying it on the ground, you immediately get to work on his belt and his waistband, pulling his trousers down smoothly with his briefs, your mouth nearly watering at the sight of his cock hard against his stomach. He guides you down to your knees, his hands wrapping your hair around his fist, his head lolling back against his neck as you begin trailing your fingers across his tightened lower stomach, kissing the happy trail that you always praise, your hands holding his thighs tight. “I like when you call me your slut,” you admit quietly, moaning when he yanks your head back by your hair, asking you to say it again. “I like when you call me your slut.”

“I know, you filthy girl,” Matty smirks, tapping on your bottom lip with his thumb. “Open up, baby.” His eyes are dark and round, the lust burning within him. Matty waits until your tongue is held out, spitting into your mouth easily. “Go on, gorgeous.”

His cock is heavy on your tongue as you lick a stripe up his shaft, your mouth welcoming him easily with the spit on your tongue. His hand in your hair guides you at a quick but steady pace, your eyes watering as you inch his cock further and further down your throat. His moans fill the bathroom, and you’re sure that anyone that walks by would know what’s happening in here but you don’t care. His swears are encouraging and you can feel his thighs tightening under your hands. Looking up at him, you can feel the way the innocent stare brings him closer to his edge.

“You look so pretty with that ring on your finger and my cock in your mouth.” His words are filthy, making your thighs clench together and your nerves feel aflame, and if you had more time and a short dress, you would have him absolutely take you on the bathroom counter, but the promise of his pleasure when the wedding is over is enough to satisfy.

His thrust quicken slightly and you know he’s nearing his orgasm, and you do what you always do, grabbing the base of his cock and squeezing as you swirl your tongue around his tip, and without warning, his climax is on your tongue and you’re pulling him out of your mouth, smirking as you sit back on your heels.

“You’re filthy,” Matty says with a breathy laugh, shaking his head and gently rubbing your head. “Are your knees okay?”

“I’ve prepared my knees for a moment like this,” you laugh, taking his hand and standing on your feet, grabbing his suit jacket and standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his briefs and trousers up his legs. “I would be on this counter if my dress wasn’t so long.”

Matty wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder and gently smoothing his hands over your backside, “Oh, I would have you on this counter if your dress wasn’t in the way.”

“My lipstick is a mess,” you whine, grabbing a napkin and wetting it lightly to try and fix the smudging on the corners of your mouth. “Don’t say anything.”

“Fine,” Matty laughs, gently turning you around by your waist and taking the napkin, wiping the corners of your lips for you, kissing you sweetly. “I’m pretty sure my dick has more lipstick on it than your lips, right now.”

[meamiya]

LESSON 2: TITTY FUCKING with FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

 synopsis♱ ‣ I mean the title speaks for itself. We’ve got Megumi and we’ve got tits. Put them together (lol) and what do we get? An orgasm (spoiler alert).

 cw♱ ‣ nsfw, characters are aged up (21+), afab!reader, slight alcohol use, slight handjob, tittyjob, one dick lick, mutual pining, friends to lovers. (Let me know if I missed anything)

 word count♱ ‣ 3.3k words

 author’s note♱ ‣ Megumi is a tits guy, and I will die on this hill. Also, this was way longer than I had planned to make it. Additionally, take a shot every time you see the word tits if you’re of legal drinking age (Juice is fine too I guess). Anyway, Enjoy!

 ♱ explicit content! minors do not interact ♱

 Even in your slightly inebriated state you could feel his eyes on you. Warm embers flit along the exposed skin of your arms and neck in tandem with his gaze before they lock on your chest. Goosebumps follow in their wake, and you feel a satisfied shiver run down your spine once you identify where his stare has firmly rooted.

 Megumi Fushiguro, the Megumi Fushiguro, the one who acts as if he has a permanent stick stuck up his ass and who you thought had less romantic or sexual interest in you than a damn rock, is staring at your tits.

 You owe Nobara a fat kiss on the cheek and 10 bucks because never in all your years of trying have you managed to grab his attention so relentlessly.

 The cropped camisole (read scrap of fabric) you’re wearing is courtesy of Maki, who greatly underestimated how well you’d fill it out. Between the dainty straps and low neckline, there was truly little left to the imagination. You’d usually never be caught dead wearing such an item, let alone even have such a thing in you closet, but in the comfort of Maki and Nobara’s apartment and with the help of your good friend, tequila, you were relaxed enough to let them work their magic and catch their long-awaited prey.

 Laughter brings you out of your thoughts as you take in the scene before you: Yuuji lies passed out, ever the lightweight, across the living room floor while Toge, Yuta and Panda attempt to lug his heavy body somewhere more comfortable. The initial shock of your tits greeting everyone before you could had worn off; mostly. The incessant probes from your left told a different story, though. Nobara and Maki, who had been whispering amongst themselves now direct their gaze toward you, in a way that ensures trouble will follow, before they turn to get everyone’s attention.

 “I have an idea everyone!” This is not a statement you trust coming from Nobara but you listen, nonetheless. “Let’s play Truth or Dare!”.

 A chorus of eh’s and oh no’s ensue, and you wish to be sucked into the earth as you follow her train of thought.

 Before anyone can formally protest, she exclaims, “I’ll go first!”

 Oh God.

 “Panda! Truth or Dare?”

 Thank God.

 “Dare!”

 “I dare you to down my drink and yours!”

 Panda immediately complies and the game continues peacefully quite unexpectedly. Yuta admits that his favourite teacher is Gojo, Toge swallows a tablespoon of wasabi, Maki is dared to switch outfits with Yuta and before you know it, its Megumi’s turn.

 The devious glint returns to Maki’s eyes as she appraises an apprehensive Megumi. “Megs, Truth or Dare?”

 To everyone’s surprise, he picks dare, though you fear neither choice would have worked out in his favour.

 “I dare you to take a body shot off of the hottest person in this room.”

 Megumi splutters while taking a sit of the beer he had been nursing the entire night and your stomach drops. Thoughts of him picking either of the two women to your right, or anyone in this room as a matter of fact, swirl in your head as everyone stares at Megumi expectedly. Under the harsh gaze his cheeks immediately bloom a cherry red, and his eyes scan the room before landing on you. You freeze.

 “I-” he stutters, lost for words as a light sheen of perspiration covers his face, immediately breaking eye contact.

 “You...?” Maki mocks.

 “I… I need to go to the bathroom.” He’s on his feet in the flash of an eye and leaves the room briskly, completely ignoring the boo’s that follow him. You don’t miss the way he tugs his hoodie over the front of his jeans and neither does Maki.

 “It’s now or never, Hun.” She whispers encouragingly and gives you a light shove to pull you away from the negative thoughts that render you immobile.

 You get to your feet, dawdling to the hallway that Megumi had just disappeared down while wiping your sweaty palms down the length of your jeans.

 Your decade long crush was either about to reach fruition or come crashing down with your heart as the only casualty, and all the pep talks you had received from Nobara are now mute mutterings in the background of your fear clouded mind.

 You look back hoping that someone will take pity on your poor soul only to find five pairs of thumbs up pointing back at you.

 If that wasn’t a kick in the ass, then you didn’t know what was. With newfound courage, you turn back and continue your journey towards the bathroom, towards your inevitable fate.

 A steady, deep breathe steels your nerves as you knock firmly on the door, hoping he can hear you over the sound of running water.

 No response.

 Another knock. “Megumi?” you call.

 The water turns off and your breath catches in your throat. A pause.

 “I’ll be out soon. I just need a second.” He replies, so quiet you barely catch it.

 It truly was now or never. “I have something I really need to tell you. Can I come in? Please?’

 The silence behind the door is deafening but the pounding of your heart surely resonated throughout the hallway. Your patience wears thin with every passing second and before the defeated sigh passes through your lips you hear it, ever so softly.

 “The door’s open.”

 You don’t waste a second, breaking down the final barrier standing in your way and making your way inside, closing the door behind you.

 The air in the bathroom feels different: more palpable, thick with unspoken thoughts and fears. Your back knocks against the door as you appraise him.

 His tall form is hunched over the sink to your left, held up by strong arms, and his raven hair shields his face, drenched in water as the plop of each droplet hitting the sink echoes in the still space.  

 He speaks first, voice void of emotion. “What did you want to say?”

 Although you dreaded having to make eye contact; the flush of your cheeks and nervous intertwining of your fingers being a dead giveaway for what was undoubtedly a precursor for you pouring your heart out, confessing to his back was not in the cards for tonight.

 “Turn around Megumi.” You ask, ultimately command, gently.

 “No, you’re going to make fun of me.” His head lowers even further.

 His statement renders you completely confused as this situation lacks any semblance of humour.

“Why would I make fun of you, Megumi?”

 Looking back, you failed to take note of one thing. Compared to Megumi, Yuuji was an elite drinker and the fact that he was now passed out on the living room couch spoke volumes. Megumi was a fucking lightweight. And if there was one way to know if Megumi had been drinking, it would be the fact that his lips loosened tremendously and drunk, tipsy in this scenario, minds speak sober thoughts. The one beer that he had been sipping on was the final nail in the coffin of his restraint and the words flowed freely before he could stop himself.

 “Because I couldn’t go one minute without staring at you tonight even though I’ve been able to control myself for years. And you’re so short so every time I looked your way, I could see down that sorry excuse of a top and that, combined with the fact that I could smell your perfume with every breath I took, made my dick throb like a fucking teenager.” He’s basically whining at this point, ashamed of his own thoughts and desires. “Years. Years down the drain.” He mutters to himself.

 “You thought I’d laugh at you for that?” your giggling betrays you. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, unsure if you’d walked into an alternate reality or if your long-time crush had just confessed to you being his long-time crush.

 “Why wouldn’t you? I’m such a loser.” He complains, gripping at his hair

 Your feet move a step closer on their own accord.

 “Megumi.” you whisper but he ignores you, lost in self-anguish.

 Another step forward; he’s within arms reach now.

 “Megumi.” You call again, louder this time, but to no avail.

 You take the plunge, closing the distance between yourselves, and grip his damp face firmly between your comparably smaller hands, forcing his attention to you. The blush that travels from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck surely mirrors your own.

 Your voice is quiet and nervous as you whisper, “Does that mean you like me?”

 His eyes remain downcast as he replies. “Isn’t it obvious. Now that you know just reject me once and for all.”

 Your heartbeat picks up if that was even possible. If only he could see the hearts in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

 The pout of his lips and puppy dog eyes make you want to tease him just a little more. “Why would I reject you, Megumi?”

 He scoffs, as if the answer was obvious. “Because I know that you like Yuuji.”

 Your shoulders shake as you try to keep your laughing fit at bay, but the subsequent shaking of your hands against his face finally draw his attention to you, his scowl deepening further at your amusement during his time of turmoil.

 “Yuuji? Why would you think I like Yuuji?” you ask incredulously.

 He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Because you’re always at his place when I visit and every time he whispers something in your ear you turn bright red.”

 You can’t help but find the way he had noticed these details and completely misinterpreted their meanings endearing, deciding to finally put him and yourself out of your misery.

 “Did you ever think that he specifically invites me over on the days you visit so that he can fulfil his desire to play matchmaker and that each whisper is just to tease me about how obvious my crush on you is? Well, obvious for everyone else.” You tease.

 He’s momentarily stunned, eyes wide and mouth dropped slightly as you wait for him to process what you had just declared.  

 “You like me?” he asks in disbelief.

 Since your words had not completely punctured his thick skull, you attempt a more hands on approach. Grabbing the sides of his face more firmly, you tilt his face down and rise to the tips of your toes to accommodate for the height difference before your lips meet his. The kiss is soft and innocent but allows you to communicate years’ worth of longing and once the initial shock has worn off, he relaxes and moulds his lips against yours.

 You pull away all too soon, far too soon for his liking. “I like you too, Megumi.” You finally confess, the words once a stone in your heart now something you wish to shout from the mountain tops. “I love you.”

 The words have barely left your lips before he’s encasing them in his own once again, dragging you closer with one hand on your waist and the other entangled in your hair to deepen the kiss.

 “I love you, too.” He whispers against your lips before he deepens the kiss, making up for the years he wasn’t able to. The years of delusion he had lived in thinking that you weren’t meant to be his and he yours. He had so much time to make up for and he was going to start right now.

 His face twists to deepen the kiss even further, tongue peeking out hesitantly to lick at your bottom lip and your hand moving to pull him in at the nape is more than enough permission for him to explore the wet heat of your mouth hoping for you to reciprocate and you do. The residual dampness coating his skin transfers to your own but neither of you care. The kiss is full of passion and yearning, soft sighs and moans, and the gripping of clothing to bring the other that much closer. So close that you’re reminded of what you, and Maki, had caught a glimpse of in the living room.

 Hard and hot against your thigh lies something you had seen before in countless dreams. Dreams that left you breathless once you awoke, sweat coating your entire body and mixing with the slick that dripped from between your thighs, coupled with a needy throbbing that only relented after a moment of self-deprecation and two fingers shoved into your cunt. Megumi’s cock was pressed firmly against you, and you just had to see it in person, knowing it would be a thousand times better than the half-baked image in your head.

 You pull back once again, and Megumi’s whine worsens the wetness between your legs. “You did so well in telling me how you feel, and I know it must have been hard for you to admit all that. Well, I know that wasn’t the only hard thing for you tonight so how about I make it up to you.”

 You drag his large frame towards to toilet before you plop him down onto the seat, kneeling between his legs. From your new point of view, his bulge is mouth-wateringly large, and your insides tingle in anticipation.

 Glancing up you take note of his flushed face and the soft pants falling from his swollen lips. Your hands make their way to his thighs, rubbing soothingly in order to calm your and his nerves.

 “Is this okay?” you whisper.

 His nod is enthusiastic to say the least and doesn’t fail to make you grin up at him.

 Your hand trails higher now, finger tracing over the zipper of his jeans, and his bulge. His lidded eyes follow your movements.

 “Is this okay?” you ask, lower and more seductive.

 “Yes.” A barely audible confirmation; the gulp that follows louder.

 Your patience is wearing thin, and you know Megumi’s is too by the way his leg taps sporadically, so without wasting time, you unzip his pants, grab the material of both his jeans and boxers and pull both down his legs with his assistance.

 Mouth-watering was a more than apt description as you were practically salivating at the sight before you. Pink and pretty. And big.

 Mournfully, you tear your eyes away from his appendage to look up at him, only to find his eyes had returned to their fixation of the evening. Your camisole had fallen that much further down your chest and your pebbled nipples were begging for attention, covered only by one layer of fabric.

 “Do you want to touch them?”

 His eyes jerk up to meet yours, shining with equal parts nervousness and hunger, and he nods shyly. With extreme caution his hands make their way to your tits, pausing an inch away from direct contact, almost as if to prepare himself, until his featherlight touch makes contact with the material of your camisole.

 Unsatisfied with his hesitance and the intense need to have his hands on you, you cup your tits over his hands squeezing them firmly in his grasp.

 The moan he lets out is guttural as his palms feel the tell-tale peaks of your nipples, and the sound shoots straight to your core. “Fuck.” His hands have a mind of their own now as he moulds them into his palms with pure abandon and a small smile makes their way to his lips at the moan you release.

 The unmissable twitch of his cock brings your attention back to the task at hand. You bring your hand up to grasp his solid length in your tiny hands, stroking upwards to collect the precum that had been leaking from his tip and it mixes with your sweat-lined palms allowing you to stroke him with ease.  

 Soft pants and groans escape Megumi, and you want them to increase tenfold, want him to invade all of your senses.

 “Is it okay if I try something, Megumi?” you ask and, in his state, all he can do is nod meekly.

 Prying Megumi’s hands off of you physically pains both you and him, but you place them at his side, nevertheless. Your camisole sticks to your flushed skin as you peel the straps off of each shoulder and slide the material down your torso, shivering under Megumi’s heated gaze. He admires your tits as you had admired his cock; with an intense need to suck it into the wet heat of his mouth.

 Megumi’s imagination continues to run wild, failing to take note of you leaning closer to his crotch, cupping your chest. Its only once the pillowy softness has enclosed his dick in its warm and suffocating embrace that he is brought down to Earth, and he swears his legs turn to jelly at the slight before him.

 You’re looking up at him through dark eyelashes, watching his reactions closely before sticking your tongue out and letting your spit drip over the tip of his dick to aid the movement of your tits gliding up and down his cock.

 Megumi’s head falls back against the wall behind the cistern, eyes rolling to the back of his head and a groan so loud you pray no one outside of the bathroom can hear it leaves his open mouth.

 You squeeze your tits that much closer together, maximising the contact between your skin and his, and with every downward motion, his core tightens and his thighs twitch. You found it incredibly endearing as he tried and failed to keep the movements of his hips at bay, but before long his hips began thrusting at their own pace, a much faster one. The squelching coming from the mixture of his precum and your spit had increased in volume and frequency, and you are unable keep up with his thrusts any longer, instead remaining stationary and allowing him to chase his fast-approaching orgasm.

 His hands have found their way to his hair again, grasping the drenched locks in tight fists. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m gonna come.”

 Your eyes lock on his drowsy ones. “Don’t apologize, ‘Gumi. Come whenever you want.”

 If the upwards tilt of your seductive eyes combined with the nickname you had just called him was not enough already, the tip of your tongue that you ran sloppily over his tip on one particular upward thrust sent him over the edge and straight into a mind-numbing orgasm.

 His hips lift off of the toilet seat as you feel the warm liquid of his cum coat your chin and chest, and with a few short thrusts to ride out his orgasm, he slumps back down onto the seat, fucked out and limp from the best orgasm of his life.

 You’re quick to grab a piece of toilet paper, wiping yourself down and tossing it into the trash while Megumi’s breathing levels out and he’s become lucid enough to button up his jeans. When you’re within arm’s reach again, he pulls you down onto his lap, tucks his chin into the crook of your neck and encircles his arms around your waist.

 “I love you.” He whispers into your skin, embedding it into your flesh.

 Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him infinitely closer. “I love you too, ‘Gumi.”

 You welcome the comforting silence for a second but noise from outside of the bathroom brings you back to reality.

 “Let’s hope you still love me after we get flamed by every one of our friends once we leave this room.”

 His laughter is light-hearted despite the fact that you were dead serious.

 30 minutes was a normal amount of time to be in the bathroom, right? Right?

  Meanwhile in the living room:

 Yuta looks down the hallway for the umpteenth time in the past 30 minutes before his curiosity gets the best of him. “You don’t think they’re-”

 “They are.”

 “100%”

 “Shake.”

 “What he said.”

[mynameismckenziemae]

She’s a Fire-Chapter XV

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Hotter than Hell

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: mutual masturbation, pretending to be into your BFF to tease your men…so queerbaiting I guess? Sending dirty pictures, unintentional orgasm denial, etc.

Three days pass in radio silence and it’s killing you. Sunny does her best to keep you distracted but she works 12-hour shifts with virtually no phone access.

10 PM on Thursday, you finally get a text.

Bradley: Hey, sweetheart. Sorry to text instead of call, but I’m sharing a room with Bobby and it’s lights out, so we’re both stuck in here. How’re you?

You laugh, knowing what he’s hinting…Please don’t turn me on right now.

Rowan: It’s okay, I understand. I’ll send you my dirty pictures next time. I’m good, just missing you. How are you?

Bradley: Can’t fucking wait. I haven’t gotten off since we left. They’ve been running us ragged. I’m so tired. Bob doesn’t cuddle like you. He’s all ‘Get off me…’ Why are you hard?’

Rowan: LOL, why do I feel like you’re not kidding though?

Bradley: …

Bradley: Kidding. Seriously, Sunny would kill me if I touched Bob (and didn’t let her watch).

Rowan: Wow…same though.

Bradley: Oh yeah?

Rowan: Definitely. I’d be ticked if I missed you getting dicked down by Bob. 😏

Bradley: No, it’d be the other way around. I’d be doing the dicking-downing or whatever.

Rowan: Not a chance. 😂

Bradley: Wow.

Bradley: Damn it, times up. Hopefully, it won’t be too long before we talk again. Love you, see you soon.

Rowan: I love you too, get some sleep.😘

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Even though Bradley keeps a tidy home, you spend Saturday doing a deep clean. You find some photo albums in the attic when you bring a box of your things up, not sure yet if you want to donate it yet or not.

Tears fill your eyes as you flip through the photos. There’s one of Carole holding teeny-tiny Bradley in the hospital, tired but glowing. The next one has the tears spilling over—Nick’s holding him, terrified but excited. You laugh at the one of Bradley on his first birthday, frosting all over his face and curly hair, grinning at the camera.

Your smile falls a few pages later when you see Bradley alone in front of his dad’s coffin, saluting. You turn the page, a wave of nausea hitting you imaging your own child in the same position. The next photo is at least a year or two later and you swallow your sob, knowing Carole was probably so devastated and overwhelmed trying to take care of herself and Bradley that capturing memories with pictures wasn’t even a thought in her mind.

You decide that’s enough for now and put everything back where it was and head back downstairs to finish cleaning.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sunny picks you up on Sunday for brunch and wedding discussions. She and Bob picked a date next fall back in Minnesota when the leaves should be at their peak color.

Sunny snorts as you show her your conversation from the other night with Bradley about her and Bob. “Agreed. Bradley would definitely be the one bottoming.”

After eating and a few drinks, you both decide to shop off your slight buzz (in truth, neither of you wants to go back to an empty house).

“Ooo, let’s stop here, I want to pick something pretty up for under my bridesmaid dress for Jake and Nat’s wedding,” Sunny says, opening the door to a fancy lingerie boutique.

You laugh, but follow her in. Never should’ve let Sunny have that second tequila sunrise.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Maybe shopping wasn’t a good idea, you think as Sunny tosses items at you to try on.

There are only two fitting rooms and one is occupied so you share the vacant one as it’s roomy enough for two, and the girl at the counter barely looked up from her phone when you walked in.

It’s pretty in the dressing room; walls painted a dark burgundy, accented with a baroque chair and flattering lighting.

“You know what would be fun? To send the boys some sexy pictures of us together in here. I’ll put this little robe on for the ones we sent to Bradley and you can for the ones I send to Bob…?” Sunny asks in a whisper, checking her reflection in the mirror.

Apparently, tequila does more to Sunny than make her clothes fall off. But…it’s not a bad idea. Bradley would lose his mind.

“I like the way you think” you whisper back with a wink.

Sunny wears white, while you’re in black

You take a few photos of her alone; your favorite is her kneeling, eyes closed and your manicured thumb is pressing on her bottom lip. She then does the same for you.

“Go bend over that chair, arch your back, look over your shoulder at me….yeah like that, bite your lip now. Perfect! Bradley is going to die. Look at that butt!” She whispers excitedly, showing you what she snapped.

Next, you set your phone on the shelf and hit the timer for the ones of you together.

You put on your robe and then start behind her, one hand on her lower stomach, the other skimming her cleavage, eyes half-lidded on each other. You step around to her side, hands still on her body as you press your lips to her neck. A few more positions and then you switch; you drop your robe as she dons hers.

You start off the same way, her hands skimming over your body, she takes it a hair further and puts her fingertips in the tops of the lacy underwear, “Hey, buy my dinner first.” She snorts, causing you to laugh.

You take a few more, lips almost brushing in a near kiss before turning to her side and rotating you around, so your ass is to the camera. You bite your lip to not laugh as she squeezes a handful of your ass. “I’m straight but your ass is making me question things.” She whispers before delivering a hard open hand smack to your cheek.

“Jesus, Sun,” you whisper, trying not to laugh too loud, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

“Nah we’re fine. Wait, don’t move. I’m gonna take a picture of my handprint.”

You can’t help but laugh, and let her, knowing Bradley will like it.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You both end up buying what you had on for your impromptu photo shoot and a few things more. The girl at the counter didn’t comment on the fact that you were both in the same fitting room for 45 minutes; you weren’t sure she even noticed.

You two sit in the car and go through the pics, giggling as you send them to her.

“I’m not sure I should even send these…” Sunny laughs as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“What?! Why not? It was your idea!”

“I’m kidding. I’m so sending them. I may regret it though when I can’t walk the day after Bob gets home.”

You laugh. “Same.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Later, you smile as you hit send, hoping you don’t have to wait too long before you can talk again.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Your 2 hours start now!” Cyclone yells.

Bradley heads to the common room, giving Bob privacy in their bunk room for the first hour. His phone is vibrating nonstop, incoming messages all coming in at once as it powers on.

Sitting on a chair, he pulls out his phone and scans the room—nearly empty save for a few others scattered around.

Rowan: Dirty pictures as requested, featuring a special guest.

What the…oh my fucking God, Rowan, he thinks as he clicks on the first picture of you, his cock hardening in an instant.

He slowly flips through them, looking you over in pretty lingerie, nearly swallowing his tongue as he sees one of you bent over the chair, looking at him so innocently over your shoulder, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He discreetly adjusts (palms) himself as he finds the first one with your “special guest”.

It’s his oldest friend clad in a silky robe. Sunny’s a beautiful woman, but he’s never been attracted to her.

There is definitely something attractive about the way she’s touching you though, skimming her fingers over your breasts. Holy shit, her fingers are almost in your panties.

He groans at the next one but covers it (poorly) with a cough. Sunny’s got a handful of your perfect ass. You’re looking at each other’s lips like you’re about to kiss.

His cock twitches and precum leaks as he swipes to the final one. A close-up of Sunny Girl’s handprint on your butt, the red a stark contrast to the pale skin.

40 minutes later he realizes he could’ve been talking to you this whole time.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You reach for your phone as a text comes through.

Bradley: Your pictures had me so distracted I forgot I could text you for the last 40 minutes.

You laugh as you type a response.

Rowan: Sorry?

Bradley: Don’t be. You are the most breathtakingly beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, hot, woman I’ve ever seen.

Bradley: Sorry, that wasn’t even remotely smooth, lol. I don’t even know what to say. All the blood from my head is in my dick, which is gonna fall off soon if I don’t get to jerk off.

Rowan: Lol, thank you. You’re always smooth. 😉Wait, you still haven’t been able to? It’s been almost a week.

Bradley: No. Shared bunk rooms, shared showers, shared fucking everything. There’s always someone around. We have phones until 9 so Bob’s in there now, we’re gonna switch at 8.

Rowan: 11 minutes and you’ll be able to. I’ll even let you watch me.

Bradley: I can’t fucking wait. Is the vibrator charged? I want to see you use it.

Rowan: Yep, charged it after I used it last night.

Bradley: Oh, don’t even say that. I’m gonna end up jizzing in my pants.

Rowan: Again? 😬

Bradley: Ha. Ha. So fucking funny. 🙄

Rowan: I thought so. ☺️

Bradley: I’m heading back, I’ll call you in a few.

Rowan: Can’t wait.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A red-faced Bob is coming out just as Bradley approaches the door.

“Sunny send you pictures too I take it?” Bradley asks.

“Yeah. Never thought I’d be okay seeing someone else touch her but…Jesus Christ,” Bob says, running his fingers through his hair. Bradley’s never seen him flustered like this.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Bradley says, slapping him on the shoulder as he walks into their room, locking the door behind him.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You answer on the first ring, grinning when you see his handsome face and bare chest.

“Poor Bob looked like he was put through the wringer” is the first thing Bradley says, smiling when he sees you.

“Hey, it was Sunny’s idea…after we had tequila sunrises with brunch” you laugh, “I wore a robe for the ones she sent to him, just like one she wore” you assure him.

“Eh, I wasn’t worried. We share everything else nowadays.” He jokes, winking at you.

“Oh yeah, Sunny and I talked about it and she agrees, by the way. You’d definitely bottom if you two were to get together.”

He scoffs, offended. “Whatever.”

“Sorry babe, you just give off that submissive vibe” you tease.

“I’ll show you submissive.” He says, changing his tune, “Get naked. Now.”

“Yes sir,” you reply sarcastically but oblige.

You set your phone on the nightstand and strip quickly before flipping back on the bed.

“Good girl,” he says lowly, and a shiver crawls up your spine. “Now tease those pretty nipples for me. Yeah, like that. Pinch ‘em too…good.” He tells you, his voice rough. You can hear he’s starting to touch himself too.

“I wanna see all of you, baby, please?” You ask, still playing with your nipples.

“Yeah, hang on,” he says, setting this phone above him so you can see more of his stomach and his hand stroking his erection.

You sigh as you watch him. Out of all the things you’ve done together, this is the first time you’ve watched each other masturbate.

“Your body is incredible Bradley,” you say, fingers now circling your clit. You pick up the vibrator from the nightstand, turn it on, and replace your fingers with it. “God, just look at you.”

He groans, hating and loving your words. He’s so worked up from not cumming in a week, especially after getting off at least twice daily in the 10 days before deploying.

“Row, fuck, I’m sorry but I’m close already. I want you to get there first. Can you do that?” He pants, cheeks ruddy as he fists himself.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” you say, pushing two fingers in and pushing the vibrator setting higher. “I can’t wait to have you inside me,” you whine, curling your fingers and finding your G-spot.

“I’m almost there-almost…I-I…” you can’t finish your sentence as your orgasm hits you, whimpering as you do. It feels so good but it’s not the same without him here.

You notice he’s quiet you catch your breath, not yet able to open your eyes. “Bradley, did you cum?”

No response. You open your eyes and your phone is black. You pick it up and turn the screen on.

The call was disconnected.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Row? Can you hear me?” Bradley pants, so so so close as the screen going black.

“Are you still there? Fuck!” He growls, picking up his phone to call you back. But it’s no use. ‘No service’ is all that comes up when he tries.

He hears frustrated voices in the hall, so he’s not the only one affected. He looks down at his throbbing erection and sighs before pulling his pants back on, hoping to find out what’s going on so he can call you back.

Bob is about to knock as he opens the door.

“Something was detected on sonar, so they cut the phones early. I got a text out to Sun before mine went, I’m sure she’ll let Row know.”

“Thanks, man”, he says flopping back on his bunk, reciting the flight manual in his head to get his cock back under control.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: I hope the queerbaiting doesn’t offend anyone—if you read Sunny’s story, you’ll see that she (like Rowan) gets off on teasing her man and loves turning him on at inappropriate times (can you tell I like it too?) I am pro-LGBTQI.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

[moonbeamwritings]

“This can’t be real.” You whine, your face suddenly feeling hot, the collar of your costume tightening around your throat. Had the elastic strap of your stupid squirt bottle cap hat always been this uncomfortable under your chin? “This is a nightmare. Pinch me. Please, put me out of my misery.”

“A nightmare!?” Your friend whispers incredulously. “This is a dream. Look at him! His friends look hot, too.”

You take a big gulp of your tequila. “I can’t talk to him like this. It’s humiliating.” You gesture to the cheap, ill-fitting ketchup bottle costume you’d adorned for this night out, your life choices coming into sharp, dizzying focus. Why couldn’t you have just worn a revealing costume like a normal person? It’s times like these where committing to the bit isn’t always a good thing.

“Hey,” she scolds, clicking her tongue at you, “ketchup can be beautiful!”

“Not enough to talk to- to that!”

Across the room, in all his beefy, athletic glory is Bokuto Koutarou — your calculus deskmate and occasional study buddy. Someone you’ve had a crush on all semester. Your eyes scan his figure and you realize that no amount of tequila or cheap beer could give you the confidence to go say hi to him. Not like this.

He’s wearing a baby blue crop top, one that’s a size too small and tugs across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, squeezing at his massive biceps. Drawstring shorts in the same color expose the meat of his thick thighs and for a moment, the breath catches in your throat. What the fuck is in the water for these volleyball guys?

His two friends are in much the same state, red and green get-ups matching Bokuto’s own. The Powerpuff Girls. Bubbles has never looked so intimidating.

“I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and I’m wearing a fucking ketchup costume.” Tequila angrily sloshes in your cup, threatening to spill.

Your mustard counterpart rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’ll drag you into the yard. Give you a little dignity.”

You nod solemnly. “Thank you.”

Unbeknownst to you, your costume hasn’t escaped the ever vigilant gaze of the famous superpowered trio. In the opposite corner, Bokuto bounces on the balls of his feet.

“That’s them! The one from my calc class!”

Kuroo’s (Buttercup’s) head whips around to follow Bokuto’s gaze. “The witch?”

“No,” Bokuto responds, mildly offended. “The ketchup.”

“Ohh, right. Should’ve guessed.” Kuroo’s eyes roll.

Akaashi (Blossom) chimes in to add, “They were looking over here earlier.”

“They were?”

“I mean, it’s kinda hard not to notice,” Kuroo gestures to the three of them and their lack of clothes, “all of this.”

Bokuto downs the rest of his beer in one, resolute chug, confidence emanating from his very being. “I’m going over there.”

You’re in the middle of lamenting about how ridiculous you look when your friend reaches out to grip your elbow. “He’s coming over here.”

Your face drops, anxiety thrumming through your veins as your heart pounds. “No. No, don’t say that.”

“Oh, look!” She calls, glancing anywhere but at you. “It’s...... that girl that I know! I’ll uh... I’ll see you later!”

You open your mouth to tell her to get the fuck back here, that this is truly an ultimate and bitter betrayal, but the words die in your throat as Bokuto approaches. He beams as he comes to a stop in front of you, like you’re making his night by simply... existing. The sight brings heat to the apples of your cheeks.

Bokuto has to bend a bit to be heard over the music, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your ear as he says, “Hey! How’s it going!?”

“Good! How are you?”

With how close he’s standing now, not only do you get an even closer look at his defined pecs (which seem even bigger up close), but you also notice, much to your amusement, that his spiky hair has been pulled into two pigtails, wrapped together with little blue bows. How someone can manage to be cute and hot at the same time is equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

He smiles like he knows something you don’t, a hint of mischief sitting in the corner of his upturned lips. “I’m good! It’s not every day you get to talk to your favorite condiment.”

You put a hand to your heart as a surprised, teasing grin over takes your face. “Who? Lil’ ol’ me? You’re flattering me!”

“I’m only speaking the truth!”

“Well,” you start, any anxiety you felt before melting away the longer you spend in his presence (and the more the tequila settles in your stomach), “if you must know, Bubbles was always my favorite Powerpuff Girl.”

Bokuto seems thrilled at this, shifting a little to bump his arm into yours. “You’ve got good taste.”

Conversation flows easily after that. You talk about class – he hasn’t done the homework yet and he’s not ready for the test, don’t ask. He asks what your drink of choice is (it’s tequila) and how you landed on ketchup for a costume of all things (it was a joke that felt funnier at the time than it is now). It’s comfortable and breezy, and you regret not coming to these stupid house parties sooner.

You open your mouth to ask if he’d want to study together, and maybe the alcohol had loosened your tongue enough to ask if he’d want to grab coffee too, but you’re interrupted by Buttercup.

Buttercup eyes you for a moment, his eyes flickering between you and his “sister” before a smirk pulls at his mouth. An expression crosses Bokuto’s face, one you can’t read, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I hate to interrupt,” he interjects, “but it seems we have a situation in the upstairs bathroom. Mind giving me a hand?”

Bokuto sighs, his gaze shifting to yours apologetically. “Sorry, duty calls.”

You smile, a half-hearted thing that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Bokuto. “Go save the city, ladies.”

“I’ll uh-” he pauses as if he’s really considering his next words before a little twinkle alights in his golden eyes, “I’ll ketchup with you later.”

As he turns to leave, you swear you hear his friend shout over the music, “Dude, that was terrible.”

Having lost your condiment companion and your superhero crush, and with no one else to talk to, you decide to venture outside, hoping that the cool October air will help to ease the flush on your cheeks.

You can still hear the music from out here, can listen in on the gossip offered up among friends sharing a smoke at the table in the yard, but now that you’re separate from the party, looking out into the backyard, you can’t help the doubt that creeps into the back of your mind. It’s a blink of a thought, a wisp of smoke in the wind, and you suspect it’s only because you like him so much, but you wonder, idly, if someone like Bokuto could ever be into someone like you. You deflate, dropping your cup on the deck railing and pulling the stupid bottle cap hat off your head. Sighing, you feel stupid all over again.

You spend another few minutes in relative silence before the back door slides open and an excited “I found you!” sounds from behind you.

A hand presses into the small of your back. “I was looking all over for you! I came back downstairs and couldn’t find your little hat in the crowd anywhere.” The thought of him seeking you out again makes your head spin. “I brought you another drink, if you want it.”

Bokuto offers you the cup with a cute, almost sheepish quirk of his lips, and you take it gingerly. A smile forming to mirror his own. You take a sip and it’s the exact drink you had before, mixed to perfection and made all the tastier knowing Bokuto brought it for you. “It’s perfect! Thank you.”

He’s all too pleased by the praise. “I’m glad! I practically had to wrestle the last of the Sprite from some drunk dude in the kitchen.”

His expression and the hand resting on your back make your legs feel like jelly. “My hero.”

“I do what I can for my people! You wanna sit?” He gestures vaguely to the stairs leading to the yard and you nod. Before you can sit, you try, and fail, to pull your costume over your head. It isn’t exactly the most forgiving fabric for anything but standing, and you huff when you can’t bend your arm enough to pull it up and over your head.

“I hate this.” You grumble, dropping your new cup onto the railing right next to your old one. “What the fuck?” You try again and when it doesn’t budge, the annoyance only seems to mount. “This costume is cursed, I swear.”

You bring your hand up to angrily pull at the offending fabric, but Bokuto stops you from tugging again by placing his hand over yours. “Want some help?”

“Please.”

Bokuto needs all of about five seconds to get it over your head, and in that time, the costume drags the fabric of your undershirt up, exposing a sliver of your stomach. His eyes widen and he feels like those memes about Victorian men getting a glimpse at a woman’s ankle.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you breathe a sigh of relief, plopping the costume onto the ground behind you. “Thank you. God, that was so much easier to get on.”

You collapse onto the deck stairs and pull your cup back into your grasp. Bokuto follows your lead, and when he puts his free hand behind him to rest against the wood, it ends up on top of your own. You don’t move a muscle and neither does he. The moon hangs bright and brilliantly yellow in the sky, painting Bokuto’s face in shadows that bring out his eyes and accent the high points of his face. For the umpteenth time, you think about how pretty he is and the chaos it’s causing in your heart.

You’re broken from your revelry when his eyes meet yours and, unable to hold his curious gaze, the tree in the distance suddenly becomes far more interesting than his side profile. When you’re not looking, Bokuto’s expression is struck by unabashed lovesickness. God, if Kuroo could see him now he knows he’d never hear the end of it.

In the comfortable silence that follows, and free from the confines of your condiment prison, your unasked question from earlier sits on the tip of your tongue. Do you wanna get coffee with me? The question plays over and over again as you rehearse the words and imagine them leaving your mouth. It can’t be that hard, right? People in cheesy rom-coms make this part seem so easy.

As if sensing your hesitation, you feel Bokuto’s hand curl a little tighter over yours. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You’re convincing yourself more than you are him, and it shows. His brows furrow and he seems to lean a little closer to you, awaiting an explanation. “I was just...” You sigh, collecting your nerves. “I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee with me this week? I could help you with the homework, too, if you want?”

Bokuto’s head tilts to one side, and before he can think to stop himself, he asks, “Like a date?”

He watches as your eyes widen. “I mean- I-...” You flounder, your face hot under his gaze. “If you want!”

The grin that overtakes Bokuto’s face is downright blinding, and you’re certain it’s the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. And, for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his dimples. It should be illegal for one man to be this handsome.

“I’d like that. I don’t have practice on Tuesday. Wanna go at 11? I can pick you up from your dorm and we could go to that place down the street. Get off campus for a while before hitting the books?”

Your nod only spurs his smile to widen, his dimples to deepen. You have to fight the urge to reach out and pinch his cheek. “Sounds good to me.”

“Now,” Bokuto says suddenly, plucking your hat off the ground and fixing it over his pigtails as he moves to stand, “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Get that costume on and let’s go dance!”

With his free hand, he pulls you up. His hand only leaves yours for the second it takes you to pull your costume back on before his fingers are intertwining with yours again. And as the colorful lights of the living room bounce off his face, his laugh ringing out over the music as he pulls you close on the makeshift dance floor, you can’t wait for Tuesday.

[bangchanbabygurl]

02: Birthday Girl {In The Eyes Of Love }

Genre: Dark Romance/Smut/Angsty/Thriller

Warnings: Explicit language/mention of domestic violence/mention of violence/alcohol abuse/mention of death/stalker/mentions of blood/drug abuse/smut scenes/dark mature themes/triggering scenes/traumatic experiences

╚» Now playing —» Contaminated by BANKS

“Have you ever considered taking anger management classes?” Changbin asked as he finished stitching up my palm; I glared at him. “What do you mean?” Chan asked as he looked at Changbin, “Well, we already know Y/N did this due to her anger, so what did you do this time, Chan?”Changbin asked. Chan looked at him and me with a sad expression, “It's okay, Chan, it's fine. Just maybe consult with me beforehand.” I said with a small smile. Seungcheol stood there with arms crossed and a brooding expression on his face; Changbin was filling out paperwork. “Don’t use your left hand for two weeks; come back in 30 days to get the stitches removed,” Changbin said handing me a prescription.

“Well, guys, nothing to worry about. Just make sure Y/N refrains from using her left hand.” Changbin implied, looking at Chan and Seungcheol. I got off the bed and grabbed my hoodie.

Seungcheol tilts his head, “That’s a nice necklace,” He said. I look at him, “Thanks; I guess I mean it contains my sister’s ashes.” I said. My index finger softly grazes the silver vial with a ruby gem on top. Seungcheol looked at the vial, “I’m sorry for your loss,” He said. I forced a small smile. “Well, birthday girl, you should go back and celebrate. Just don’t get too wasted,” Changbin said, patting my shoulder. I rolled my eyes, “I’m getting tired, so I probably will head h…home,” I said.

Changbin nods, and I follow Chan and Seungcheol out of the room. “You can't go home yet; there’s still that party over at Jackson’s we all planned on,” Chan said with a frown. I sighed. “I don't know, Chan; I’m annoyed and tired,” I responded softly as I signed some paperwork for the nurse. I fix my hoodie and zip it up, “Not to mention I have to get up early in the morning to stick some patients.” I said crossing my arms as we walked out of the hospital. Seungcheol was quiet, I glanced at him to see that his gaze would occasionally meet mine. I look at Chan as he opens the door of the black Porsche Cayenne, “Just stay for at least an hour.” Chan suggested. I look at him with furrowed brows, “If you don’t want to be there for less than an hour I’ll drive you home myself,” Seungcheol implies. I looked at him, his cold eyes sent shivers down my spine.

I sighed and got inside the car without another word, why the fuck am I listening to Seungcheol? Like he’s merely anything to me besides just Chan’s friend. But of course, I don’t want Chan to witness his friend go against his other friend. Having him to choose between the two. I bite my lip and hold my bag tightly on my lap, this drive to Jackson’s is going to be very awkward and long.

I could feel my eyes getting tired and sleepy; I don't even want to be here. I got out of the car; it was loud and packed. “Seungcheol will drive you home if you don't want to be here for an hour,” Chan said as he hurried inside the house. I let out a huff of breath and followed Seungcheol up the stairs. “How do you know Chan?” I asked Seungcheol, who looked around the place before turning to look at me. “Through work,” He said, what a shitty response. I was expecting him to engage in this conversation; I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. I purposely bumped my shoulder against his and walked inside the house; I saw Nayeon and Jackson doing a love shot as everyone cheered and took tequila shots.

“Mm, Birthday Girl is here!!” Jackson points at me; I shake my head, embarrassed. “Y/N! Happy birthday!” BamBam came running from the backyard, “Girl, can’t believe you’re finally 23 already; you gotta stop growing out on me,” BamBam whines. I chuckle, “Seungcheol! My man! Huh, what a surprise,” BamBam exclaims as he clings to Seungcheol. I gave him a look before walking off to look for Suzy, “Birthday Girl!” Joshua wraps his arm over my shoulder. “So, how was the ride with Seungcheol?” He asked. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “It sucked, I tried to create a conversation with Seungcheol, but he gives shitty responses.” I complained.

Joshua laughs and shakes his head, “Well, Seungcheol isn't one to be very talkative with first encounters. Give him time.” He said. I shrugged and looked to see Jihoon and Suzy walking inside through the back door, “So, did you finally end things with Edward?” Joshua asked. I sighed and nodded, “Yeah, but he didn't like it.” I said. Suzy gasped and smiled as she made her way over to us, “Y/N!! Happy birthday.” Suzy exclaims with a big grin. I smile and let her embrace me, “I heard what happened to your palm. Are you okay?” Suzy asked as she pulled away. I looked at Jihoon, who smiled shyly, “Yes, I'm fine; it's not a big deal anyway.” I said, shrugging. Suzy smacks her teeth and shakes her head, “Not a big deal…tch, yah Y/N. Next time you hurt yourself I’ll be the one hurting you even more.” Suzy chews out. I laugh and pat her shoulder.

I felt a headache rise as the music got louder, and everyone began to shout along to the lyrics. Joshua was sipping on his beer with Jihoon, and Suzy was out dancing with Nayeon. I left the kitchen; Chan was chatting with some girl by the staircase. “Enjoying the party, birthday girl?” Chan asked as I walked up the stairs, “Yep,” I said, throwing a peace sign at him and reaching the top floor. I felt tired, and the headache worsened; I got to Joshua’s room. I closed the door and sat on the bed; I rubbed my eyes and looked at the time on my phone.

There were three missed calls from my dad and sixteen text messages from my mom, I sighed and lay down on Joshua's bed. I look through the photo gallery on my phone, clicking on the video from five weeks ago.

“Say hello! Y/N say hello! You’re on camera!” Rose laughs, “Yah! Rose! What are you doing with my phone?!” I laugh. Rose smiles as she turns the camera towards her face, her short purple hair going everywhere due to the beach’s wind. “Hello mom! Dad! Hi Daniel! As you can see, me and Y/N are finally here on vacation in Seoul! The beach here is ammazzzing!!” Rose squeals, “Y/N come say hi to the camera! Please!!” Rose whines. I laugh and walk over to her, “Hi! Seoul is amazing! Maybe after graduation, I’ll move here so Mom and Dad you’ve been warned.” I said with a smile as Rose laughed.

I wipe away the tears as the video continues, with Rose running into the waves, “Y/N! I love you! Mom! Dad! Daniel! I love you!” Rose smiles as she waves at the camera. The video ends, and I let out small cries as the video replays again. “Y/N!” I turn my phone off as the door opens, “You okay?” Joshua asks as he enters the room. I wipe away my tears and sit up, “Yeah just tired and I have a headache.” I said. Joshua sighs and closes the door, “Why do you keep torturing yourself?” Joshua asked. I look at him confused, “Stop watching her last video, you're torturing yourself.” Joshua implies.

I sigh and lay back down, “I’m not torturing myself…” I said. Joshua sighs and lies beside me, “Y/N, it's not your fault; you know that, right?” He asked. I look at him, tears swelling up in my eyes, “Joshua, Rose’s death will always be my fault. No matter how many times you say it's not…it will always be my fault.” I sobbed. Joshua pulls me into his arms, “No, it’s not; you weren't the one driving under the influence, Y/N.” Joshua said, patting my back softly.

“Pabo…stop torturing yourself. You need to start living in the present and not the past.” Joshua whispers as I close my eyes. I wipe away the tears and try to sleep through the headache, “You need to live…freely.” He murmured. I let out a shaky breath and let myself fall asleep.