#these dudes got drunk and high-fived their dicks together

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[tyongxnct]

𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑒 - 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝐽𝑎𝑒𝘩𝑦𝑢𝑛

pairing: Jaehyun x reader

summary: After your break up with Jaehyun, you were always on his mind. It’s been almost two years and he missed you so much, it was torture being without you. Nobody loved him like you did and no matter how much he tried to get you off his mind, he only wanted you. Every night a different woman in his bed but he always imagined you. Jaehyun wanted you back but were you ready to face him?

song: feel me - Selena Gomez

genre: angst, exes-to-lovers!au

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, alcohol consumption, mention of sex

word count: 3,7k

A/N: this is part two of lose you to love me  I hope you like this, I literally wrote this in five hours lmao, have fun reading and don’t forget to listen to feel me by Selena Gomez! 

taglist: @fluffyjaes​ @m1na4u​ @cosmiclatte28​

© tyongxnct on all platforms

No one love you like I love ya Never cheat, never lie Never put no one above ya I gave you space and time And now you're telling me you miss it And I'm still on your mind We were one in a million And love is hard to find

Do you stay up late, just so you don't dream?

“Hey buddy. Are you ready to go home?”

Johnny looked at his friend with worry in his eyes. “Let’s stay a little longer. Please Johnny.” Jaehyun begged Johnny. He needs the distraction. He needs the alcohol to feel numb, the pain he feels is slowly killing him.

“Come on, it’s late. You need some sleep buddy.”

“N-No Johnny please- I don’t want to go.” Jaehyun mumbled.

“Jaehyun-“

“You can go home if you want. I’m going to stay.  I don’t want to be alone.”

Jaehyun and his wife, his ex-wife now, divorced almost three months ago, about five months after their wedding. Jaehyun met her one night at the club and she wrapped him around her finger and one night became many sleepless nights together. He should be with you, his girlfriend, but the woman in his arms was someone else and after spending so much time with her, he was confused and thought that he fell in love with her.

Breaking up with you wasn’t an option, he was still in love with you, he was just bored after spending years with you and he wanted something new, something exciting and cheating behind your back was the only way he could feel the thrill.

Jaehyun really wanted to marry you, but not while he was cheating and he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop secretly meeting her and talking to her when you were sleeping. Jaehyun didn’t want to let go of that thrilling feeling and whenever you talked about marriage, he feared loosing the excitement he felt when he was with her and not with you. But Jaehyun never thought that the option of you leaving him was there. He never thought about how you felt and how he treated you. Jaehyun thought you’d stay with him forever, no matter how long it would take him to breakup with her and marry you.

You were always there and when you told him that you want to breakup, he didn’t know what to feel or what to do. Should he stop you from leaving? Should he break up with her and just marry you?

After you left he spend more and more time with her and when he did the mistake of asking her to marry him while he was totally wasted, she agreed and it didn’t take long for them to say yes.

Jaehyun did many drunk mistakes in his life and he slowly realized that everything leads back to her, his ex-wife. Your relationship was destroyed because he cheated on you with her, your relationship was destroyed because he told himself that he wanted her and not you, your relationship was destroyed because he couldn’t stop his affair and his relationship was destroyed because he let you go to be with her.

Jaehyun realized while he was married, that every decision he had made was wrong. Everything he did to push you away was wrong. The thrill he always felt was wrong. The excitement he felt when he was with her was wrong, everything turned upside down and he regrets chasing that weird feeling he felt when he first met her. He regrets letting her in and letting you go. The love of his life.

How could he? How could he do that to you? How could he destroy the best thing that had happened to him?

After the divorce, Jaehyun felt lonelier than ever, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know that the missing puzzle piece was you and that it was always you he needed and loved.

He didn’t know that you were the one his heart longed for, but after seeing you one night with your friends at a bar, after seeing you smile so happily, he realized that the missing piece was you. Jaehyun realized how lonely he was because you weren’t there, because he didn’t see your face and that beautiful smile you have.

Jaehyun’s chest tightened and he left the bar before you could see him. Jaehyun was ashamed, he couldn’t face you after everything he did to you.

Jaehyun missed you every passing day more and more. He was thinking about you and every time he remembered the way you looked at him when you broke up with him, he found himself crying and suffering because you didn’t deserve any of that. You didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you. You were everything and so much more.

Jaehyun regrets leaving you alone all the time and the one time he asked you to stay longer at Yuna’s makes him so mad, because back then, he missed you so much but he ignored the feeling until you left him forever.

“Dude, come on-“

“Seems like your friend doesn’t want to go home yet.”

Jaehyun and Johnny looked at the person talking. A pretty woman, her body barely covered, and the look in her eyes was enough for Jaehyun to stay and not go home.

“Don’t worry, I can keep an eye on him for you.” She winked and Johnny looked at Jaehyun who was so drunk that he didn’t mind staying with her.

“I don’t think-“

“Go home Johnny. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jaehyun turned away from Johnny to the woman and next thing he knew was how she sucked his dick in her bed.

Jaehyun couldn’t sleep at nights, whenever he closed his eyes he saw you and you followed him in his dreams. The painful look in your eyes was burned in his mind and every dream was about you and losing you. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to wake up from another dream.

Do you stay up late, just so you don't dream?

Every time your lips touch another I want you to feel me I want you to feel me Every time you dance with somebody I want you to feel me I want you to feel me

Jaehyun spend nights with many different women under him. He tried to replace you, he tried to keep you off of his mind, but he failed every time.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips on hers, he didn’t even remember her name but he also didn’t care. Jaehyun imagined you under him, he imagined your lips kissing him and your hands on his chest. Jaehyun’s favorite position was fucking from behind so he wouldn’t see their faces when he fucked them.

“F-Fuck Jaehyun.” She moaned when he sucked her neck and slowly fingered her.

“Don’t talk or I’ll stop.” He mumbled as he kissed her again to shut her up.

Jaehyun always told them to stop talking so he could imagine it was you he was fucking. Sometimes, your name slipped his lips but he didn’t care. If this is the only way he could feel you again, he wouldn’t stop.

Do your days get a little bit longer? Nights get a little bit colder? Heartbeat a little bit louder?

His friends were worried. Especially Johnny, his best friend.

Jaehyun would spend all of his free time in clubs and bars and drink until he couldn’t even walk properly. With no sleep, his days got longer and he felt stuck. Jaehyun felt like he was stuck and there was no escape. Every day was the same but the pain in his heart got worse and worse.

He was so drunk, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he thought he was going to die. Jaehyun really thought that it was the end of everything. The end of his suffering and the pain and the end of your story.

But when he woke up in the hospital, he knew that it wasn’t over. He still needs to suffer because you were also suffering for so long. Jaehyun knew that he needed to suffer more than you did, he knew he deserved all of this.

“Finally awake huh?” Johnny said.

Jaehyun looked to his left and saw Johnny sitting on the chair next to the bed.

“What happened?” Jaehyun couldn’t remember anything.

“Alcohol poisoning. You’ve been sleeping for three days.”

Jaehyun closed his eyes. His stomach hurt.

“I didn’t see her in my dreams. I didn’t see anything in my dreams. Maybe-“

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.” Johnny hissed.

Johnny knew that Jaehyun thought that this was the only way to sleep without dreaming of you.

“But-“

“No fucking buts, god, Jaehyun. Don’t you see how much you are destroying yourself?!” Johnny said a little louder.

“I deserve this.” Jaehyun whispered.

“No! No one deserves something like this. Okay, we both know you did some dumb shit, but why don’t you talk to her? We both know that she won’t kill you. Grow the fuck up now and face the fucking truth.”

Johnny was right.

Jaehyun is a coward.

He’s fucking scared to make things worse if that’s even possible.

Facing you? How could he do that? He couldn’t even look in the mirror, how could you look at him?

“I know where she lives, Jaehyun. And I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself more and more. Please, go talk to her.”

Jaehyun knew that sooner or later he had to talk to you. He always chose later but things got worse and he needs to do something.

When you're running, who you run to? Where do you go to hide? When she ain't giving you enough to get you through the night Won't be caught up in the middle Of your highs and your lows Baby, 'long as you're not with me, you'll always be alone

Do you stay up late, just so you don't dream?

After Jaehyun was released from the hospital, it took him two days to knock on your door.

It’s been months since you saw Jaehyun and when you opened the door, he was the last person you expected to see.

It was silent for almost ten seconds.

Jaehyun’s legs felt like jelly and his eyes got teary. You looked so beautiful, you were glowing. You looked so much healthier and just happier. Jaehyun didn’t know what to say and was so nervous he almost turned around and ran away.

“Jaehyun?”

Oh, how he missed to hear his name coming from your mouth.

“H-Hi.”

Hi? Seriously Jaehyun?!, he thought.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

Jaehyun tried to talk but he was so fucking scared of saying anything wrong that he didn’t talk.

“Jaehyun?” you said his name again.

“I-I wanted to talk… to you… if that’s okay…” Jaehyun scratched his neck awkwardly.

“You want to talk?” you asked, still in shock that he was standing right in front of you.

“Y-Yes.”

“What do you want to talk about?” you leaned against your door, arms crossed in front of your chest.

“U-Us?” he said unsure.

“There is no us though?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, about y-you and me.” You never saw Jaehyun this nervous.

“What is there to talk about? Oh, congratulations by the way, I heard you got married.” You said sarcastically.

Jaehyun gulped, he looked at you and licked his dry lips. “I-“

“Was it the girl you cheated on me with? Or someone else?”

“Y-you knew?” he thought you didn’t know that he cheated.

“Of course I knew. You really thought I’m a dumb little girl?” you spat.

“N-No never it’s j-just-“

“What? A secret you never wanted me to find out? So tell me Jaehyun, did you marry her?”

Jaehyun looked down and nodded. “I-I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Did you get her pregnant?” you asked.

“No! I mean, no no it wasn’t like that.” He shook his head.

“So you married her because you loved her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know why I did that, I-I thought that after you broke up that she was the one and I t-think I was scared that she’d leave me too s-so I married her.” He explained but you just laughed at him.

“W-We aren’t together anymore. We got a divorce five months after the wedding.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I just want to e-explain everything and… and I’m sorry. For everything. For everything I did and everything I didn’t do.”

“Come in. I don’t want to disturb my neighbors.” You really wanted to know why he did what he did.

Jaehyun smiled as you let him in.

He looked around your apartment and saw many pictures of you and your friends and family. When he looked at your couch, he saw a little cat sleeping.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, cats don’t hurt people like humans do.”

Ouch, Jaehyun felt a pang in his chest.

“You can speak.” You said ignoring the look on his face.

“I met her when I was out with the boys, a-and I was drunk and next thing I knew I was in her b-bed and I-I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t stop a-and we were together for so long I thought I needed something… new. It went like this for a year and then your broke up with me and I know that you had every right to do that after how I treated you. I kept the affair a secret because I couldn’t break up with you. I loved you and I wanted to have a family with you, you were my everything b-but I felt like I was stuck with you forever. We were dating for years a-and I needed something new, but I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t stop either. I-I thought I’d stop seeing her one day and we would get married but I-I…” Jaehyun hid his face in his hands as he told you everything. “I-I didn’t want to lose you but in the end you still left me a-and I didn’t want to be alone so I married her and I swear to god I hate myself so much for doing that to you. I hate myself so much for hurting you like that.” He sobbed.

You didn’t say a word.

“T-There’s no one like you. Nobody is enough for me, they’re not y-you and I feel so, so fucking alone without you. My heart hurts and I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do anymore. I need you so much, I miss you a-and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe I-I lost someone as perfect and rare as y-you. I love you so much.” He whimpered.

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and looked at you. Jaehyun’s eyes were bloodshot red and his lips were trembling, just like his hands.

You didn’t know what to say or to do or to think.

“Jaehyun, look. This, all of this is confusing me. And I really don’t know what you want me to say. You broke every promise, my trust, and my heart. You have no idea what I went through. You have absolutely no idea how hurt and broken I was. You’re suffering? You’re missing me? You’re crying because you are sad? How would you feel If you were me. How would you feel If I did that to you? Hm? This is not a game, this is real life, and you made your decisions. Jaehyun, you chose to hurt me. You chose to cheat on me and you chose to marry her. This had nothing to do with me. I loved you. I waited for you and I was always there for you.” Your voice was calm and you didn’t feel the need to cry but Jaehyun on the other hand was still crying and hating himself even more after he heard your words.

Jaehyun stepped closer to you but you didn’t move away and you looked down to the floor.

“D-Do you hate me?” He whispered.

“No.”

“So you still l-love me.” He hoped you did.

“No… Jaehyun-” you looked up with empty eyes.

This hurt Jaehyun even more. You felt nothing for him. Nothing.

“I love you, Y/n. And I will always love you. P-Please don’t let go of your love for me. Please love me, please- Y/n- please love me again. I can’t live a life without you. I can’t- I just can’t move on. I’ve been trying- I’ve really been trying to move on but it’s impossible. My heart screams for you and only you. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He hugged you tightly and you just let him, you didn’t know what else to do. “Please y/n. One last chance please. Y-You know what? L-Let’s get married. Right now. Marry me, Y/n. We’ve been waiting so long to get married, let’s do it now- please Y/n- marry me. Be my forever- please.” He cried out.

“Jae-“

“No, please no, just think about it. Just you and me. Forever. You and me forever that’s all I want. I’m ready y/n. I’m ready to spend eternity with you please give me one last chance to make things right. Please let me fix this and let me love you again.” Jaehyun cried his heart out as you slowly caressed his back.

“I-I know you still love me. D-deep inside you still love me. We’re meant to be together. Please give me a chance to show you how much I love you. Please marry me.”

“Jaehyun we can’t get married just like that.” You told him.

“B-but,” he let go off you to look at you, his face inches from yours, “So y-you still love me, right?” he looked hopefully at you.

“Jaehyun t-this isn’t as easy as you want this to be! I-I don’t trust you, I don’t know what you want me to say. Let’s forget everything and start over? It’s not working like that, relationships are more than just I love you’s! It took me so long to get back on feet, it took me so long to accept that you did this to us. I always blamed myself, I thought I did something wrong but it was always you. You’re the reason this relationship or whatever that was ended. So, I can’t just get back with you after everything I’ve been through. Not… Not like this.” Maybe it was time for you to cry, too. Tears fell down your eyes, you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

Remembering the pain you felt, the betrayal you felt and how miserable you were, hurt you.

“Jaehyun I was so fucking hurt y-you have no idea, I just wanted to die and n-never wake up.” You were the one sobbing now.

Your body stopped working and you fell in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You heard him say.

“The love of my life married someone else, Jaehyun. You married someone else b-because you d-didn’t want to marry me… You didn’t w-want to marry me. You didn’t want me- y-you didn’t want me.” You repeated the last sentence over and over again and it felt like a knife was stabbed in his heart every time you said that.

Jaehyun held you in his arms as you were both sitting on the floor. This time he caressed your back and tried to clam you down. You bawled your eyes out and you hate to admit that, but you felt safe. You felt safe in Jaehyun’s arms.

“Y-You never l-loved me…” you whimpered.

“T-That’s not true, I always loved you. Do you remember the first time we met? You fell on your butt because we crushed into each other and ever since, I had this huge crush on you and when I asked you to be my girlfriend and you said yes, I was ready to fight the universe for you.”

“B-But y-you didn’t. You fought against m-me.”

If Jaehyun’s heart could break again, it would. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. He hates himself, how could he make you feel that way? How could he hurt you so much? How could he break you like this?

Jaehyun wished he could turn back time and change everything. But that was impossible. All he could do was do the right things now, it was his last chance to have a perfect future with you. 

“Please. One chance, all I need is one last chance to show you how much I love you. Let me fix this, please. Please let me treat you like how you deserve to be treated. Let me love you until my last day on earth.”

“I-I’m so scared, J-Jaehyun. So scared.” You whispered.

“Don’t be scared. I can’t lose you again- I won’t lose you again. I love you. I’m so in love with you.” Jaehyun pressed you against his chest and kissed your temple.

You looked up to him. His face so close to yours after months. It felt surreal, you couldn’t believe that it was really him, holding you so tightly because he was so scared that you’d slip away.

He wiped your tears with his thumb and leaned in. You closed your eyes and let him, after so many months, kiss you with his soft and warm lips. You could feel how much he longed for you just with a simple kiss. You could taste both of your salty tears in the kiss and neither of you stopped crying.

Allowing Jaehyun back in your life didn’t change anything about you. You were still confident and strong, and you could be confident and strong with Jaehyun, too. Jaehyun would never dare to take that away from you. He would never dare to hurt you and make you feel small or vulnerable. Jaehyun loves you and you slowly let him back into your life. Your breakup with Jaehyun helped you so much, no matter how much you suffered and how hurt you were. You learned how to love yourself and how important it is to put yourself first and that is something you’d never learn if you hadn’t gone through the breakup.

Feel me Feel me Feel me

[smellyfootboy]

SMELLY ENCOUNTERS WITH ETHAN PT. 4: A Grand Finale.

It had been about 4 days after I started staying with Ethan at his house while my floors were getting done in my own house. Each night, Ethan has used my mouth as his own personal masturbation toy at least twice a day. Which I certainly did not mind, but I think I’ve eaten more of his cum than I have real food. We did not sleep together in the same bed… He would make me sleep on the couch. Honestly I kind of loved this friendship the way we had it going. What shocked me though, is that he hasn’t made me smell his feet or do anything foot related for a few days. Just yesterday I checked his laundry bin and couldn’t see any used socks, which brought me to the conclusion that after the last time he did laundry, and must have been wearing the same socks since… and he was probably waiting for the perfect stink to “torture” me with… and he had to be on at least day 4 or 5 by now. The dirtiest I’ve ever smelled his socks was my very first foot encounter with him. He had worn them for 4 days back then and basically made me put them in my mouth. That was about 7 months ago.

Ethan came into the living room while I was playing on my phone sitting on his couch.

“Hey man- I’m going to have a couple of the guys come over tonight for some beer pong. You down?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah, sounds good to me… anyone I know?” I asked.

“Joe from my college that you met before and my brother, Riley.” Ethan said. Joe was a quiet, skinnier guy, but really cute, and Riley I had not met.

Later that night, after Ethan came back with beer and snacks, I helped him put up the pong table, which we placed next to his dining room table. We set up all the snacks and cups.

Joe was the first to show up. He wore a white button up shirt, jeans, and white adidas shoes. We talked for a little while before Riley showed up. I was shocked to see how much he looked like Ethan. He wasn’t as built, but they definitely could almost be twins. Riley was wearing a black t shirt, black shorts, black crew socks, and a very similar pair of converse as Ethan was wearing. He looked about the same age as Ethan as well. Maybe a little younger, mid 20’s possibly.

We made some drinks, talked about our jobs, and got a little buzz before we started on the pong. Ethan and Riley were on one side and me and Joe were on the other. I was pretty terrible at beer pong so I hoped Joe was a little better than me.

We started the game.

“Hold up… we should make this more interesting. Make some bets and shit.” Riley said. Oh God, here we go, I thought.

“What like money? I don’t have any cash on me.” Joe said. I saw Ethan’s eyes light up. I knew what was coming.

“Losing team has to sniff the winning team’s feet for 2 minutes.” Ethan said proudly.

Joe made a grossed out face. Riley kind of laughed.

“Bitch- I grew up with you, I know how rank your feet are… do you still wear the same socks for multiple days.” Riley asked.

“Depends…. I think these bad boys are on day 4.” Ethan said. I wasn’t going to bring up that I’m pretty sure they were day 5.

“Dude, I’ll throw up.” Joe said.

“Then… don’t lose…” Ethan laughed.

“Whatever… man- I went running today so I might be pretty ripe myself.” Riley said. We all continued to play. I may have purposely missed the cup a few times and Joe was not very good. So things we looking pretty grim for us.

“My feet feel really hot and sweaty, how about you bro?” Riley said to Ethan jokingly as Joe missed another shot.

“Fuck man, I can smell both of our feet through the shoes.” Ethan said back.

“Oh God…” Joe said.

We only had one cup left. Riley was taking the shot.

“You think I’ll make it?” Riley asked

“No way…” I said

“If he makes it, yall gotta add some tongue to our feet…” Ethan added.

“And if he doesn’t, we skip all the foot crap.” Joe said nervously.

“Deal.” Riley said.

It seemed like time went in slow motion for that shot. And sure enough… he made it in the cup.

Riley and Ethan high fived each other. Me and Joe looked at each other and he kind of shook his head.

Ethan walked over to the dining room table and kicked his feet up.

“Joey, get over here and take my shoes off.” Ethan said. Joe sighed and walked over and sat across from Ethan.

“Just two minutes right? Someone time it please.” Joe said sadly.

Riley nodded and we both just watched what was unfolding. I’m sure it was my turn next.

Joe pulled off Ethan’s shoes one by one. The smell hit the air so fast. Ethan was wearing black socks with white heel and toe. I actually felt bad for Joe… He had no tolerance to Ethan’s feet.

“Oh man… it’s so bad.” Joe said as his eyes began to water. Riley was laughing pretty hard.

“Come on, nose in the foot.” Ethan said.

“Dude why… I could smell this even if I was standing across the house!” Joe said.

“Joe don’t be a bitch!” Riley yelled to him. Joe shook his head again before burying his face in Ethan’s socked foot.

Ethan used his toes to pull off his sock on one foot, and then the other.

“Tongue…” Ethan said as he wiggled his pudgy toes. Joe hesitantly stuck his tongue out. Ethan slid his toes across Joe’s tongue. Joe gagged.

“How’s that taste Joe!” Ethan yelled.

“Ok… that’s enough.” Joe said as he stood up.

“Yeah that’s good… you were sniffing for about 4 minutes.” Riley laughed.

“Are you fucking kidding me man.” Joe said. He ran to the bathroom and we could hear him spitting and rinsing his mouth out.

“Alright buddy- your turn” Riley said as a looked to me. He went and sat in the corner and pulled off his converse. I followed him over there.

“Lay on your stomach.” Riley said. I did what he asked trying not to come off so willing. His black socks were kind of shiny and almost looked greasy. He stuck his feet side by side on my nose. His stink was definitely not as strong as Ethan’s where it would fill the room, but I could 100% tell he went running that day, his odor was almost cheesier than Ethan’s. He kind of cupped them around my nose. I was getting an erection, taking in Riley’s stink, I’m glad I was laying on my stomach so no one could tell. Ethan was watching from across the room, smiling. Riley took his sock off.

“This is what happens to bitches that lose. How’s that fuckin smell man?” Riley said, only turning me on even more.

“It smells like a greasy cheese…” I said muffled by his foot.

“Cheese? Good, maybe you’d like a taste then… tongue out.” Riley demanded. I slid my tongue across the bottom of his toes. They taste just like they smelled.

“How’s my foot taste? Ethan I think he likes this…” Riley said laughing. Ethan walked over and placed his rank foot on top of my head, pressing my nose and mouth even harder into Rileys foot.

“He’s just used to it, I make him worship my feet sometimes.” Ethan said. Riley laughed. I was slightly embarrassed but I felt almost hypnotized at the scent of Riley and Ethan’s feet mixed together.

A few more moments passed and Riley stood up and Ethan took his foot off my head. Joe finally came back in the room.

“Alright guys, I gotta work early… Thanks for a gross night.” Joe said, still looking a bit ill from licking Ethan’s foot.

We said goodbye and Joe left. Shortly after Riley took off as well. It was just me and Ethan on the couch.

“What a night…” I said. I could still smell Ethan and Riley’s foot stink on my face.

“Yeah it was…” Ethan said. He reached his hand down and started feeling his bulge in his pants.

“Hey, take your pants off. I wanna try something.” Ethan said. I stood up and took my shoes off and my pants.

“Now face the other direction.” Ethan said. I turned around. I could feel Ethan start to touch my butt. We had never done any butt stuff before, so this was new. He pulled my underwear down and put his finger in his mouth. Then into my shaved hole. It hurt a little at first and I was a little tense. It slowly started to feel very nice. He then switched to two fingers and I moaned.

“Fuck boy, you are so tight.” Ethan said as he thrust his fingers in and out.

Suddenly to both of our surprises, Riley popped out of the corner.

“Guys, I don’t think I can drive yet… that beer…” Riley started before he noticed what was going on. He kind of stood there in awe for a few moments. Ethan and I didn’t say anything. We just looked at him, his fingers half way up my hole.

“Uhhh. Some kind of bet I didn’t know about?” Riley said, confused. I noticed he was starting to get hard as the crotch of his shorts started to rise.

“Just a condition of him staying with me… I get to use him as my cum rag…” Ethan said with confidence.

“Huh…” Riley said, still taking in what he was seeing. Riley started to inch closer and ended up sitting next to Ethan. I was shocked to feel that Ethan continued to finger me. I could see Riley out of the corner of my eye on the couch. He had pulled out his cock and was stroking it while watching Ethan finger me!

“I aint gay. But hey, a hole is a hole right? And this boys got a whole other one not in use.” Riley said. He stood up and came around to me. He pulled my head down so his dick was right in my face. He was cut unlike Ethan. He was a bit hairier too.

“Lick my balls.” He said. What was it with this family and always wanted their balls licked first? Not that I minded. I started licking his smelly musty hairy balls. The texture of the hair on his nuts was something I wasn’t used to but I totally got into it. I could feel Ethan push me forward a little and bend me down a bit more. I heard him spit into his hand. It was finally happening. I felt Ethan’s cock start to go into me. It was easier since he used his fingers first. After he got the head in, I felt him slam the rest in behind it. I moaned in pleasure. He felt so good. Meanwhile, I started sucking Riley.

“Yeah suck my fat sweaty fucking dick, bitch.” Riley said, incredibly drunk. He was a lot bigger and thicker than Ethan in that department. Every time Riley tried to push in down my throat I would choke. I could see Riley and Ethan fistbump each other as they destroyed me. Ethan was banging me so hard that I could feel his huge nuts slapping my ass.

“Yeah boy, take my cock.” Ethan demanded. Riley grabbed my head and shoved his cock down my throat all the way to his nuts. My eyes watered .

“I’m gonna paint your fucking face…” Riley said. He abruptly pulled his dick out and jerked it aggressively and blew his load all over my face. I could feel it all dripping down my lips and chin.

"Fuck bitch. You like my hot nut dripping off your face don't ya" he said as he reached down and used his thumb to move a big blob of his cum into my mouth. I cleaned his thumb off. Riley backed up a little bit. Ethan suddenly pushed me down to the ground face first and planted his stinky foot on my face so that his toes were right over my nose. Im not sure how he had it readily available but he shoved one of his disgusting black and white socks from earlier into my mouth. Riley took his shoe and sock off and put his foot on my head next to Ethans. Ethan was still inside of me and banging me while they had me pinned with their feet. He started to go harder and harder. My hole was so sore. But it felt so good.

“Fuck boy… You like that dick wrecking your tight fuckin pussy.” Ethan said as he just kept going harder and faster.

“You gonna take my load while you taste that nasty sock and smell our feet? ” Ethan said.

“Fuck yeah…” I said.

“He loves the cock, taking both our loads…” Riley said.

I suddenly felt Ethan empty himself inside of me. He was out of breath and covered in sweat. He took his foot, now covered with his brothers cum from my face, off my head.

“Now clean my foot off.” Ethan said. I began to lick the cum off his foot, making sure to get it all.

“Damn Ethan, I need a house slut like that.” Riley laughed.

As Ethan’s hot load leaked out of my hole, and I continued cleaning his brothers cum off of his stinky foot, I couldn’t think of anything else I would rather do.

“Yeah… I think he should move in permanently.” Ethan said.

[passivenovember]

Boys on the Radio.

Harringrove April, Day Seven : Daisy Chain.

--

Steve has very high standards when it comes to men. Unbelievably rigid, according to Nancy; hilariously unattainable, according to Robin, and understandable, according to the one man that actually matters. 

Billy tells him that the privilege of not simply “taking what you can get,” comes from equal opportunity. 

The fact that Steve can sign up for Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, and HER without having to set his dating pool to only men, only brown eyes, 5′11″ or taller, himbo, must like dogs, must want nachos when drunk--means he shouldn’t have such a hard time finding someone to get coffee with, and yet.

Steve finds himself on the couch with Robin on Wednesday night, anyway. Swiping through a caste of 25+ gym rats and an inbox full of u spit or swalll-o, baby girl. 

Wishing and praying for a sign, like. Something to prove he’s not deflective. 

Steve clicks his tongue. Clicks out of Tinder. Clicks into Bumble. Swipes left on four guys with fifteen pack abs, Jesus Christ, searching for someone he knows will never materialize. 

Steve hates his life. 

He throws his phone down on the couch before picking it back up again, and. Opening Tinder once more.

“Billy gets so much dick on these stupid apps, it’s not even real.” Steve complains, after swiping through, like. Ten guys within walking distance alone. “How does he do that?”

“Easy. Billy knows his type.”

Steve considers Marcus. His chorded arms and tattooed thighs. His Incan Temple chest piece, before. 

Swiping left. 

“How the hell does he actually get what he’s looking for? I see these guys and, like. They seem perfect. Funny, smart, successful. Completely my type on paper, and then--”

“Just say you’re holding out for Billy and move on, Stever.” Robin’s phone dings. She dives for it, grinning and typing out a response, and like.

Steve hates her.

He scowls. “I’m not holding out for Billy.” 

It doesn’t sound right, even to his own ears. Robin peeks at him over the top of her messaging app, smile going lopsided in the middle. “’S fine. He’s holding out for you, anyway.”

Steve really, really hates her.

He opens Facebook and scrolls through his feed, stopping to comment a series of heart emojis on a picture of Billy and Max hiking somewhere in White Water State Park. 

Billy looks. 

Like Billy. 

Golden curls cropped close to his head, eyes squinting as the photographer catches him mid laugh, nose bunching up so. 

Adorably.

That Steve’s heart skips a beat. That the heavens fuckin’, like. Open, and shit, to shine on a delicate daisy chain around his forehead. 

Steve can’t believe he almost missed it. He spends five minutes picking the right color of heart emoji. Yellow and orange, with a sprinkle of stardust, and then. Another three deciding how many to include before closing out of Facebook entirely. 

Reluctant to prove Robin right.

Steve opens Tinder and promises that when the next face pops up on his screen, he’ll lower his standards. Be more chill about the whole thing. 

Actually read the bio twice and message back before deciding that no one could ever compare to--

Steve swipes left on Tyler.

Almost immediately, because. Look.

This guy is cute. Curly blonde hair and green eyes, but. Unfortunately for dude, his name is Tyler, for fucks sake. 

And unfortunately for Steve he looks too much like. 

Yeah. 

Robin makes a noise, all, “What’s wrong with that one?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously and Steve wishes she were off getting laid or something. “Besides the fact that he’s not Billy.” 

“His name’s Tyler,” Steve says. Like it should be obvious. He scrambles for something else, something tangible, before landing on; “And his teeth are too square.”

Robin stares at him. Sets her phone aside before pinching the bridge of her nose, like, “His teeth are too square.”

“Yep.”

“You’re impossible.”

Steve clicks his tongue. Clicks out of Tinder. Clicks into Bumble. Running into the same problem again. 

Too pretty guys with too straight teeth and too many abs, just. 

Terrible. 

“Maybe I should lower my standards.” Steve says, after another you got real pretty DSLs bby, from some fuckface claiming that Sundays are for Jesus and tan lines.

Men are hopeless.

Men are terrible, Steve wishes Billy was here and not on vacation.

“Maybe.” Robin smiles down at her phone, again, cheeks going bright pink when Barb says something so fucking witty, Steve, I’m in love. 

Steve frowns. “You can talk about her, dude.”

“Talk about who?” Robin sits on her hands. Swallows a smile. “Barb and I only just met. I’ve been stuck with you for years.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Robins phone dings again. She ignores it. “I don’t think your standards are the problem.”

“If you fucking--”

“Just admit that it’s only been ten years and you’re finally spreading your legs for the guy who includes a description of you in his dating profile.”

He really wishes she were out getting laid.

“Allegedly,” Steve says. Because; “I’ve never actually seen any of his dating profiles.”

Robin opens the message from Barb, grinning to herself, or. To the gods of chaos she seems to be in council with fucking always. “That’s because if you ran across one you’d swipe right.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.” Robin counters, not even bothering to look up from her phone. “Billy is exactly your type. Funny, smart, adventurous. Daddy issues. Has a thing for leather.”

“Dude--”

“Wearing leather, putting his partners in leather. Kinky but knows how to cook and clean, and how to take care of a bratty sub.” Robin puts her phone away, shrugging when Steve tosses a pillow at her. “Face it, man, he’s exactly your type. On and off paper.”

Steve wants to crawl under the couch and bury himself under the floor boards.

“I thought the whole point of online dating was to get out of your head about types and shit.”

Robin snorts, like, “No one actually believes that. We’re all just dating the same person over and over again. Making the same mistakes so we have something to complain about when our friends invite us over for wine.”

And. 

She’s not wrong. She’s never wrong. Steve, just. Knows what he wants. Who he wants. Steve aches and pines and yearns for Billy Hargrove. To cuddle up next to the fifteen-pack of abs he’s been obsessing over for years, and. 

Swear of this God awful dating sites for good. 

But. “Barbara isn’t your type.” Steve says, like. AHA! Pointing an accusatory finger that Robin nods away. 

“She’s exactly the type of girl I should be with, and exactly what I’ve wanted all along.” Robin says politely, but her eyes say fuck you I’m right. 

Just like now. Like always. 

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. “Okay.”

Robin blinks at him. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Steve mutters, because he’s a team player. He can admit defeat, especially for a battle that was lost to blue eyes long, long ago. 

But. He opens Bumble, shrugging sheepishly. 

“One more swipe for old times sake?”

“Steve--”

“One more swipe to prove that I should be focusing my dick elsewhere.” Steve says. He feels tears burning, sharp and mean, behind the lining of his throat. “I just need a sign, like. Something to give me the courage.”

Robin watches him for a minute, and.

Must see the way he’s barely holding it together, finger tapping incessantly at the loading screen. Her phone goes off once again, breaking the tension. 

Steve takes that as a yes. 

He closes the app and opens it again. Bumble plays through an ad for Candy Crush and Steve finds it hilarious that happy endings come with a price tag. A thirty second video telling him what he needs, and then. 

The guy on screen is perfect. 

Golden skin, bright blue eyes. His bio describes a perfect boy, a perfect date, profile stocked full of personality. 

Skateboarding and surfing on the coast. Tattoos and leather jackets. Metallica concerts and. 

A boy in a flower crown. 

Billy describes his perfect boy as brown eyed beauty, 5′11″ or taller, preschool teacher. Must like dogs. Must want nachos when drunk--

And when Steve finally, finally swipes right: It’s a match.

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Boom boom,how was your day? Anything new or hard?

Judging from my leon headcanon it's obvious I would like to be held 😔

[Daily reminder to everyone that you are amazing,great,worth it and royalty 😌]

Leon

-he gives me vibes of a person who collected whatever the equivalent of pokemon cards there. In his old room he still has some of those old cards in one of those fancy little books that you could put them in

-he was the one who caught hops wooloo!

-Teases hop about his crushes, but in the nice brotherly way and not the annoying one. Supportive but also very "sooo hop,you and them ayeeeeee?" Personally I'm a gloria and hop shipper, but that could work for anyone

-for hops birthday he has a special birthday snap back. He also wears this to your birthday, its colorful and has a party hat ontop of it. This was actually a little crafty thing hop made but he cherishes it (even if hop is like nOoO-) idk I just like to think he has special occasion snap backs like a Christmas one with dangly lights or it looks like santas hat.

-even though hes a very happy and confident person, alot of his years come up to him as more of a serious kind of dude like at the battle tower. Sometimes I cant help but think he looks at the window of his house and just thinks if this is really what life might be. As much as he loves being champion, sponsors and all- even that can get suffocating sometimes. But you're like a bright light to him, hes probably just amazing at cuddling with how big he is and hes just UGHH so great at comforting.

Steven

-Thinks hes sOo great at cooking until he somehow fails at BOILING WATER. Hes trying his best but sometimes your beat is not enough 😔 you probably will have to save him alot, oh well hes good at being champion so just keep it at that

-good singing voice, singing you to sleep? Gotcha! Singing at a party where he was being pushed to do so? Great. I can imagine he follows more on deeper tones, but hes good at high notes too. (Also somebody made Steven's theme with LYRICS I'm in love)

-when he was younger, Joseph always had to keep an eye on him if they visited the mines together because yes this little rock loving maniac is running around EVERYWHERE to get that fancy rock. Pls save Joseph. On other notes he'll bring his kids with him to mining too! But only on the places he knows are safe, he dosent want to risk his family getting harmed afterhismotherdiED

-more childhood headcanons is that hes good at science, especially earth science but not as great at math. He isnt terrible, definitely not but he cant compete at a competition. ALSO I agree that he wouldnt be super cool and suave, hes starting to be but man hes mostly a little bit of a nerd who carries around a book of rocks. He wasnt exactly popular with people wanting to date him until he grew up 😔 though he loves you alot so too bad you're stuck with a rock nerd your entire life.

Explosion my love, my MONARCH, my SOULMATE. Thank for these literally amazing headcanons! Legit grinning from ear to ear from these!

I had genetics today (my fave) and idk if I did something wrong (or too right), because I had way too much extra time left. Like I’m disabled so I get extra time on exams, and I didn’t even come close to using it. So I’m a bit spooked tbh lol. I got one more exam in a couple days and then I’m done!

Hope your day is as EPIC as you explosion!

I too want to be held by Leon, I just wanna be scooped up like a lil ball of ice cream into his arms. Legendary

Leon and Hop have such a wholesome relationship OML. It’s obvious they really care and admire each other. Their smiles are so precious!

Also Leon wearing tacky caps? I think it’s illegal for him not too lol

Bruh, Steven can make cold sandwiches and that’s it. Literally. He can assemble, he may even be able to chop, but you cannot rely on this man to even use a microwave. Good thing he;s rich, otherwise he would literally starve

I CANNOT believe we just thought of the same headcanon about Steven’s voice and being able to sing!! Legit just thinking about this. He’s perfect for lullabies! And drunk karaoke!

Lol I just imagine lil five y/o Steven pestering his dad about all the cool pebbles in the garden, and Joseph wanting to be a good dad and foster his son’s curiosity, so he takes him to local cave that does tours and baby Steven is literally acting as if he was in a sweet shop. He kept asking the tour guide questions about the rocks and every answer made him go “Wow! That’s so cool!”.

Bab steven is precious! Protect at all costs!

As a science lover who is not great at maths, I FEEL that deep within my soul. Personally I headcanon Steven has a bachelor’s in geology (with a minor in business because his dad begged him to), so he probably did a lot of science in college, and did only the easiest math bits to get by lol.

Steven was definitely bullied a bit in school, he was a really big nerd and hadn’t grown into the dreamboat we know and love yet. I think that’s how he met and became friends with Wallace, because they were classmates, and Wallace was also bullied, for being super flamboyant (and queer). They bonded over being outcasts and battling.

And when they grew up, got hot, and became fabulous superstars, it’s safe to say a lot of the people who wronged them were suddenly very interested in being friends with Hoenn’s champions.

Moral of the story? Don’t be a dick!

Ugh, thanks again for these fantastic headcanons! They are so good!

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? (Ch. 8)

Previous | Fic Masterlist

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove.  He wants to marry him–as friends–so they’ll always be together, and he’s going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off.  Also he’s in a band, and they run a bar.Billy’s buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation.  Also he’s just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, “I can’t take this anymore.”

In this chapter:  Billy's pretty drunk when he comes back to Steve's hotel room, and he wants to see Steve wear the thongs. 

Billy eventually hauled Steve back out of the bathroom—Steve was content to stand there forever, with Billy’s earnest, alcohol-redolent breath in his face, listening to him proclaim his undying affection—but Billy yanked his arm. “Come on,” he slurred. “Max’s gonna...give up on us.” Steve splashed some water on his hot face, and then trotted after his fiance.

“Did you just bone my brother on the bathroom counter,” Max asked crisply, not looking up from her menu as they approached the table.

“You know it,” Billy said, laughing, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Fuck no, that counter’s covered in like ten layers of old hand soap,” Steve said, making a face. “Billy deserves better than old hand soap.”

“Like the alley out back,” Billy muttered, dropping into the booth, and Steve sat too close, elbowing him.

“Like a honeymoon suite,” he countered, and got to hear Max and her brother groan, and watch Billy’s ears turn even redder.

“So I hear Steve has been proposing for like. Months,” she told Billy, who glared at Steve. “You never said a word.”

“He was letting me pine,” Steve said, grabbing the soju away as Billy poured more, and tossing it back.

“Yeah, no more for you,” Max said, grabbing the bottle, and filling her cup. “How come you were still dating that shithead, then?”

“Not enough brain cells,” Billy sighed, and Steve slid an arm around him, then pressed his luck, and a kiss to Billy’s temple, feeling it heat.

“We’re hoping our combined six brain cells are a little smarter,” Steve told Max, and she snorted a laugh—and then smiled a little softer, he thought, watching Billy as he leaned into Steve’s shoulder with a grumbly noise like a drunken bear.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, silently, and Steve flushed. “Be good to him or I’ll kill you,” she added, in a creepily sibilant whisper, and Billy mumbled inquiringly. Steve hugged his head, nodding back at her.

Steve had to half-heft Billy into his hotel room that night, full of barbequed meat and more liquor than was good for either of them, and then help him undress, sliding his hands down Billy’s ass and thighs to get his too-tight jeans off, and crouching between Billy’s knees to pull at his boots. Billy dropped back onto the mattress with a long sigh, and then Steve had to haul him back upright to tug at the buttons on his sleeves, and run his hands over the muscles of Billy’s shoulders to push the shirt off them. He kept pausing to look at Billy’s tattoos, or a couple times because the feel of Billy’s skin was distracting, warm, muscled, a little hairy on his arms and legs, and softer over his stomach and ass. Billy curled away from Steve’s hands on his abs.

“Quit it,” he mumbled. “You don’t care if I do my crunches, right, if I’m not...cut,” and Steve shook his head, running his knuckles over the soft curls that crept out of Billy’s pajama pants toward his bellybutton.

“Nah, you’re perfect,” he said honestly. “You’d be perfect if you turned into that blueberry from the Willy Wonka movie, y’know.”

“...s’weird you don’t give a shit,” Billy sighed, his whole body flushed with alcohol as he watched Steve’s knuckles stroke his side softly.

“If you’re too pretty, people are gonna keep following you home,” Steve told him. “And what if I just like, see you when I’m onstage, and I drop my guitar?”

Billy burst into cackling laughter, his eyes wide. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked breathlessly, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“I have eyes, man,” he told him, and Billy’s smile widened, lazy and delighted.

“You think I’m pretty,” he mumbled, still giggling.

“Of course I do,” Steve told him, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ear, and cupping his warm, stubbly cheek to feel him smile. “You’d probably look way better in those thongs,” he sighed. “I look like a moron who forgot to wash his own underwear. Or like, those bastards at the laundromat, you know, that just steal whatever, and you’re like ‘what the hell did you want with one of every sock’.”

“Y-you put them on,” Billy choked out, pushing himself back upright to stare at Steve’s face, and Steve scrambled back, licking his lips. “You wore them?!”

“Uh,” Steve said, his cheeks heating. “I mean, just—just in case you were serious, I wanted it to fit.”

“...I wanna see,” Billy said, drunk and sincere, and Steve couldn’t believe those wide, hazy eyes were lying to him.

He grimaced. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably gonna look more stupid than that.”

“It’s gonna be a religious experience,” Billy said, patting around the bed for his phone, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why don’t you wear ‘em,” he tried, “—if you like the damn things so much.”

“You said,” Billy huffed, still slapping the bed for his phone, and pouting, so Steve sighed, grabbed Billy’s phone, slapped it into his outstretched hand, and dropped his pants. Billy made a noise like he’d swallowed a leaking helium balloon, and Steve heard the camera shutter noise.

“You send anybody that picture and I’ll—” break your face, was Steve’s first thought, but then he remembered Billy’s bruises. “—I’ll order pineapple and anchovies on every pizza for the next year.”

“...hurting yourself to hurt me,” Billy huffed.

“I can gag it down,” Steve told him triumphantly, and yanked his briefs off, to another strangled sound from Billy, and more shutter noises. “...I mean it, though, don’t send blackmail pictures to Robin.”

“...blackmail pictures,” Billy said weakly, as Steve set his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled on the blue thong. His t-shirt partly covered it, thank god, he thought, because his dick was aware there was somebody on his bed even if Billy was a dude, and the friction of the satin was weird, so he had kind of the beginning of a hard-on. He sighed. Billy swallowed, his throat clicking like he needed something to drink. “...take the t-shirt off,” he whispered, and Steve stared back at him.

“Seriously?! You can see how it fits!”

“Come on,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned, but yanked his t-shirt over his head to more shutter noises. He tried to ignore his stupid cock thinking fancy underwear meant anything on him, and stared past Billy at the ugly 80’s pink and grey motel art. “...you look like somebody’s pulling your teeth,” Billy said.

“...the hell you want,” Steve gritted out. “I look like an idiot.”

“Well, they got me to fucking...agree to marry you, right, you could look like it wasn’t the shittiest day of your life,” Billy said, glowering at his phone, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, what then? Should I like. Pose,” he asked, flexing half-heartedly, and Billy took a weird jerky breath.

“...you really...think you look bad in those,” he rasped out, and Steve snorted a laugh, frowning down.

“I’ve got elastic up my ass,” he said, squirming. “I’m not even sure how I thought they were sexy on women anymore, jesus.”

“You look like a centerfold,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve—who’d spent nearly a year wondering whether he wanted to be around Billy or just be Billy—felt better instantly.

“...really?!” Steve asked, staring down at his untanned (compared to Billy’s) stomach, and his uninked arms. “...yeah, I’m hot, right?” he asked, laughing with relief. “I know I’m hot, huh, not everybody can look like you.” He twisted his body into a tits-and-ass superheroine pose, pursing his lips at Billy, who made a noise in his throat like he was dying. Steve snickered, and stuck his arm out and up to the side like he was Superman. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said, and Billy snorted a high-pitched laugh.

He’d half-covered his face, but he was still snapping pictures, and Steve couldn’t help wanting him to laugh harder, because Billy was cute, pink-cheeked with drink, giggling. Steve spread his arms, hearkening back to a long-ago role in the school production of My Fair Lady. “I have often slept/in this room before,” he began, throwing his arms wide, “—but the carpet always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am IIIII/several stories hiiiiiigh/knowing I’m in the room where you aaaaare—” he sang, and Billy burst out laughing, letting himself fall backwards on the bed cackling, his hands over his face.

Steve climbed up on the bed again, sitting on Billy’s legs like they were five, and kept going. “AND OHHHHHH, THE TOWERING FEELING,” he belted out, “—JUST TO KNOOOOW/SOMEHOW YOU ARE NEAR—”

Billy shoved at him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and turning a little to bury his face in the pillows.

Steve beamed, taking a quick breath. “THE OHHHHVERPOWERING FEELING/THAT ANY SECOND YOU MAY SUDDENLY APPEAR—” he paused, because the neighbors were banging on the walls again, and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh my god,” Billy wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Stop, stop, before they throw us out, jesus christ you fucking loon.”

“Maybe they prefer Elton John,” Steve said thoughtfully, opening his mouth to try some of Your Song, and Billy tackled him to the bed, both hands over Steve’s mouth, which was suddenly kind of awkward, as Steve remembered he was wearing only a thong. He tried to sort of hum that he was disarmed and un-dangerous, but Billy glowered suspiciously, leaning harder to hold his hands over Steve’s mouth, his mouth still quirked as he shook a little with suppressed snickering.

Steve tried not to squirm. Billy’s pajama pants were soft and thin, and Steve could feel thigh muscles through them. Billy’s butt hovered right over his dick, barely bound by the scrap of satin and lace, and it was hard to think of anything but that couple of inches of space between Billy feeling safe as friends, and finding out Steve got idiotically turned on by people thinking he was funny and hot.

Billy was panting, still out of breath from laughing, his chest and abs flexing right before Steve’s eyes, so he closed them, feeling the heat spread over his face. “You gonna behave?” he hissed, and Steve considered shaking his head, so Billy would just...stay on top of him, maybe, maybe fell asleep there, while Steve spent an agonizing night trying not to squirm and Billy breathed contentedly into his neck.

He nodded, instead, and Billy pushed himself up to stretch.

“You’re insane,” he commented.

“Everybody serenades fiances,” Steve said indignantly. “I could read you poetry instead.”

“Holy fuck, no,” Billy hissed, reaching to slap a hand over Steve’s face again, and Steve kissed his hand. He snatched it back like Steve had burned him, swinging his leg off Steve to curl his whole body into the pillows, groaning. “Why are you like this,” he sighed, still laughing.

“You love me,” Steve pointed out, biting his lip uncertainly, and Billy sighed again.

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped down next to him, his shoulder against Billy’s back, and imagined he and Billy in their suits. “We got a fitting tomorrow,” he said softly. “For the suits.”

“...yeah, I know,” Billy said, leaning back against him. “You gonna wear the blue thong? Something borrowed and everything?”

Steve laughed. “Oh. I was thinking white lace. Weddings. Y’know.”

“You...thought about it,” Billy mumbled.

“Dude, I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Steve told him, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I keep thinking you’re gonna say it was all a joke. Thongs, seriously? I’ll wear ‘em every damn day if it keeps you around, man.”

“...bro,” Billy said, laughing into his pillow with kind of a whine.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, grimacing. He swung his legs off the bed, and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “I’m gonna shower,” he told Billy, who was sounding sleepy, and saw what was probably a nod.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror again, and felt less shitty about being a man in satin and lace, because really, people could just...wear things, he figured, it wasn’t like the fabric cared. Billy’d looked happy as he laughed, and Steve smiled at the thought, and flexed again in the mirror. He was half-tempted to get a little apron or something and make Billy laugh his ass off again.

His dick still hadn’t gotten the message that it wouldn’t be getting any action, and he tried to ignore it fully peeking over the top of the elastic, and the damp spot from his reaction to getting thrown down on a bed. It’d be actually and metaphorically hard to sleep next to Billy without taking care of it, though, and he let himself thumb over the tip, biting back a groan, and trying not to think anything weird about Billy’s weight on him, or the muscles of his forearms as he held Steve down by the face.

He reminded himself of Tommy shoving his hand away, and stalking out of his life, and tried to think about tits as he climbed in the shower, his shoulders hunched.

The feeling wasn’t really the same, he told himself—he knew what he was feeling, watching a woman squeeze into a dress, and thinking about peeling her out of it, but it’d never been clear, as he tried to dress up like Han Solo, what exactly he wanted—to kiss him, or be him, or just be...as cool as him, or maybe just to have a janky spaceship to share with his very best friend.

He peeled out of the thong, his cheeks burning, and stepped into the shower, soaping his hand up. It only took a few yanks before he came over his fingers, thinking annoyingly neither of Billy nor an anonymous woman’s mouth, but ofTommy, how he’d shoved Steve against the doorjamb, and said “Yeah, why shouldn’t I go over to Carol’s again? What you got that’s better than her, huh?”

Steve had been bewildered when Tommy started yanking at his pants, but also drunk, and horny from the porn. The woman onscreen was still panting and begging, her tits jiggling, and it was hot with the heat of an Indiana summer, but their beers were cold. The sound of distant frogs nearly drowned out the grunting on the screen. Tommy’s hands were hot and tight, and at nineteen it didn’t take much. Steve’d woken deep under the surface of a hangover, looking around at his limp, sticky cock half out of his pants, and taken a shower before he even remembered what had happened the night before.

Tommy’d never picked up his calls again.

It hadn’t even been his idea, Steve didn’t think, scrubbing at his hair as his brain went over the familiar ground—Tommy’d yanked at his jeans, while Steve stared like a drunk idiot. He tried to remember—again—whether he’d leaned in too far, or seemed too willing, and growled, sticking his head under the showerhead.

After he towelled off, he slid into bed behind Billy, and slid an arm around him. Billy snorted powerfully, smacking his lips, and rolled over to grapple Steve in closer, smacking a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “...love...babe,” he mumbled, nuzzling his head into Steve’s neck, and tossing a thigh over his legs.

Steve lay motionless, his heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, Billy insisted they couldn’t be fitted together, and see each other before the wedding. Then he drove home.

After the gig the next night, Steve drove home after him. He slowed as he passed Billy’s apartment, but it was four-fifteen in the morning, and he was pretty sure that was grounds for divorce.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and typing text drafts to Billy he didn’t send, and checking the time, so finally he just cleaned—he scrubbed the whole fridge, and pulled all the popsicles and discount steak out to defrost the freezer. If he’d been female, he thought, with kind of a shivery feeling in his stomach, he’d have eaten the popsicles when Billy was over—just sucked them down until he gave himself brain freeze, leaning his head back so Billy could see the muscles working in his cheeks and throat. Steve bit his lips together, sighing, and gripped the counter, wishing the stupid, useless image wasn’t stuck in his head.

The sheets smelled kinda stale, so he washed them, and put another load of laundry in, before checking the time again, seeing it was too early to take Billy any breakfast, and flopping face-first on the couch with a groan.

He awoke to his phone ringing, and answered in a grunted slur of syllables even he couldn’t identify. It was Joyce Byers’ voice, he registered, his brain feeling like its tires were spinning in mud.

“Billy’s sick,” she told him. “He sounds awful. He’s by himself.”

“Enh,” Steve said. “Grungh.”

“...I thought you might be on the road,” she said. “Weren’t you coming back today?”

“M’I’m,” Steve mumbled, and rolled half on his side to prop himself up. “M’here. Drove...las’night.”

“Sorry to wake you, sweetie,” she said, sounding suspiciously like she was laughing. “He’s just as impatient to see you, hon. That’s why I called. He was smiling all night. I had to pinch his pink cheeks.”

“...my pink cheeks,” Steve muttered indignantly, and she laughed again.

“Go take him some cold medicine, okay? Maybe something hot to eat?”

Steve slapped his face a few times to try and get his brain back online, blinked, and frowned worriedly. “Is—is he okay?”

“Sounds like a question for the man himself. We’ve got this, if you don’t want to come in tonight,” she said. “Tell him not to worry about anything, and feel better!”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding.

“Make him take a nap too, sweetie,” she said, and hung up. Steve blinked at his phone, and then called Billy.

He didn’t answer.

Steve grimaced, sat down to work on the chords for his nearly-finished song, couldn’t focus, and cleaned the garage. He tried again an hour later, and got no response, so he waited a couple more hours, did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove.

He kept thinking about being sick, and he started to want soup, so he rummaged through his cupboards, and then pulled out the cookbook Joyce had helped him pick out when he first started living on his own. It had chicken soup in it, and Steve studied the ingredients carefully, jotting them down.

When he got to the part of the recipe that said ‘if using noodles, add them now,’ he stalled out, staring helplessly. He side-eyed the phone, and didn’t call again—Billy was probably asleep, he reminded himself, and there Steve was, waking him up every god damn hour.

He went out and bought sick-person groceries—the soup ingredients, obviously. Kleenex, benadryl, cough syrup, cough drops—and popsicles in case Billy had a sore throat. He got two whole boxes, resolutely not thinking about either of them actually eating them. He got a loaf of bread to slice for thick crunchy toast, and a carton of eggs to soft-boil. He threw some fluffy slippers by the register in, and then circled around again when he remembered tea.

When he knocked on Billy’s door, he kept it fairly quiet, and busied himself setting up a bag with all the things Billy might want—there was no point in giving a sick person the raw carrots for the chicken soup. Just as he was trying to remember whether Billy had a toaster oven, the door opened, and Billy stared down at him, wrapped in a blanket. His nose and lips were red, chapped and peeling.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ll go away,” Steve told him, standing up, and grabbing both bags of groceries. “But I just need to ask, rice or noodles?”

“Why are you going away,” Billy croaked.

“I, um,” Steve stumbled, uncertain. “But uh, I’m—I’m making chicken soup, so: rice, or noodles?”

“...you’re making me soup?” Billy sighed, leaning against the door jamb. “...what are you doing out here?”

“I brought you stuff,” Steve told him, wincing. “Uh, is it—can I come in?” Billy backed away, tottering over to blow his nose, and Steve came in and kicked the door shut with his feet.

It was both humid and cold, and Steve grimaced into the dim light, watching Billy curl up on the corner of the couch in his jeans and the sweatshirt from their work. He was surrounded by used kleenex. “...I brought…” Steve trailed off, as Billy tried to tuck the blanket over his toes, and not pull it off his head. “...why’s it so cold in here?” he asked, and Billy’s head jerked up.

“It’s fucking cold, right?! I knew the fucking thermostat wasn’t working—” he stopped, sighing.

“Okay, no,” Steve announced. “You’re coming to my place. I promise not to make you sign any, like, prenuptials, come on.”

“...I’m sick,” Billy told him, petulantly, as Steve found his shoes.

“That would be why,” Steve told him, battling to get one arm out of the blanket at a time, and push Billy’s arms into his coat. “You can figure out the thermostat later—I’ll call and fight with them, if you want—but I can see my breath in here.”

Billy submitted to being bundled down the stairs in untied shoes, his coat on, and his blanket wrapped around it, and Steve loaded the groceries back in, handing Billy the box of tissues.

“So,” Steve asked, as he shifted into reverse. “Noodles or rice? I bought both. We could try both, I guess,” he said, considering, and then realized Billy was trying to cover a laugh, which turned into a racking cough. He sounded like the seals at the zoo.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, finally, when he could talk.

All my Harringrove fic!

[herstarburststories]

Sensitive There

A/N: My beta asked me if I was drunk when writing this. 

My part for @kalesrebellion​’s Bring On The Giggles challenge. 

Prompts: front butt & cum gun

Summary: You and Dean get drunk, which leads to a new sexual experience.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: dirty talk, smut, nipple play, Sam being a cockblock, humping, excessive use of the word nipple, purposely written like that bc crack

A distantly familiar smell invaded your nostrils as soon as you entered the bar, but it was different; nothing like the lingering after current of alcohol that wafted through the air after a long day’s hunt. Dean had his arm on your shoulders as he and Sam talked way too excitedly about something that you didn't bother enough to pay attention to. Dear Chuck, that hunt truly drowned all your energy. Thankfully, the place with shining letters on the front door was only ten minutes away. You already felt your mood lift and a relaxed smile sneak onto your lips just for being here. What was a better way to lift your spirits than grossly excessive amounts of alcohol?

So, that is what not only you, but Sam and Dean did as well. Apparently, you weren't the only one sorely in need of a whiskey vacation. By noon, even Sam was drunk.

Fuck, how long had it been since you and the Winchesters got properly wasted? Not the daily beers or the occasional scotch, but really drunk, just for the sake of it.

‘’I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun.’’

You giggled at Dean, somehow finding his words exciting. Drunk flirting after a hunt was pretty much how you both ended together, mostly because you weren't soberly hearing his pick up lines.

Your chin rested on your hand as you leaned in. ‘’Yeah, babe? Where? On my chest? Or maybe right on my…’’

“Front butt,” Sam interjected, a proud grin on his lips for helping you to complete your sentence.

You and Dean turned to glare at the other person on the table, furrowed brows and slightly opened mouths in surprise. Who the fuck called a vagina that? Especially Sammy. 

“What?”

“No, dude. You can't be serious? Front butt? Really?” Dean threw himself on the chair, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

Sam tried to defend himself. “I forgot the name!”

“Call it filet mignon!” Now it was your and Sam's turn to glance at him a questioning tilt of the eyes, confusion alit on your features.. Dean arched his eyebrows, wasn't it obvious? “Because it's delicious and made of beef.”

You sighed, pouring another glass of vodka with soda. “We really should talk about your weird psychosexual obsession with food.”

“Before you came along, he said that waitresses were his favorite because they smelled like burgers.” Dean slapped his brother's shoulder, exclaiming a dude! as if he had told you a secret. “What? You said!”

Whether it was because you knew Dean or the fact that your blood was slowly turning into alcohol, you weren't actually surprised by Sam's information.

You shrugged. “He got turned on when he saw me wearing his hotdog pajamas.”

“Can we focus on Sam calling your pussy a front butt?” Dean huffed, taking a sip of his whiskey. In an attempt to shift the focus, he smirked at Sammy. “Maybe you should try a guy, they are all butt.”

“And balls. And penis,” you added, sighing dramatically before placing your hand on Dean's thigh. “I like your penis.”

The eldest Winchester looked to his leg, pushing his tongue against his teeth. All the mental images suddenly coming to mind involved you and a bit more of alcohol were very welcoming to him and his big cum gun. He definitely wanted to shoot you. And hey, he was always good with aiming  Dean could bet he could hit right in your hole.

Even a bit tipsy.

“Sam, stay here while we use the Impala.” He raised to his feet, pulling you with him. You giggled, pecking on neck only to gain a quiet moan in turn. His body was always so responsive to you.

Sammy, however, had another idea. He was completely oblivious to what you and Dean were up to. His brows knitted together along with a soft pout.

“What? You guys are just gonna leave me here? I want to go back to the motel too,” he said with a fragile tone, clearly sad about being left alone.

With a cocky smile upon his lips, Dean was quick to reply, “Unless you want see a front butt and a butt, I advise you to stay here until we come back.” 

“But I want to go, too. I'm sleepy,” Sammy whined, and your heart ached a little. He just wanted to spend time with his big brother and you. Wasn't it adorable?

Not in a threesome way. That would be weird. Two brothers fucking the same girl was weird, especially when she dated one of them, but Sam and Dean were hot in so many different ways. One had a physique of a fucking professional athlete and the other had Greek beauty with rough hands. And Sam's hair was so long... Did he let the girls he was with pull his hair? All right, but threesome with brothers was a level of incest. Even if they always fought in sync, so hypothetically, fucking the same girl could be just as good.

You shook your head, trying to push this image away. You'd never consider this after sobering up.

Tipsy brain, stop. Drunk imagination was wild.

Maybe that is why that author told people to write drunk.

“You are drunk.” Dean's voice managed to take you away from that dark place of your mind where you could see nasty images very, very clearly.

Sam huffed, gesturing with slow exasperation. “So what? I can be two things.”

“Yeah, a bitch and a cockblock.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean!” You scoffed, but your boyfriend just shrugged, not feeling guilty. “Let's go to the motel, Sam.”

Fortunately, the motel was only two blocks far, which made it easier for the gang to walk and stumble there. 

As soon as the door was open, Sam collapsed on the couch. Dean lost in the middle of the living room, his eyes searching everywhere to find the beds. They got a motel without beds? Well, at least there was a carpet on the floor. That could work.

He could use your butt as a pillow!

“Awesome!” Dean said to himself, turning around to find you. Sam snoring on the couch, check. A refrigerator that probably had some beers, check. He finally found you after a complete spin, seeing you against the door. Girlfriend pillow, check. “Y/N?”

“Sam and I got burritos while you were talking to the sheriff this morning. Mexican food, Dean.” Your voice was low and threatening, like you were telling a horror story. Dean gulped, knowing exactly what you meant. Glare lost on Sam's figure, you continued, “We've brought hell on us.”

As if he'd heard a calling, a farting sound echoed. And then another.

“It's starting... We have to run, Y/N.”

You didn't wait any further, immediately latching onto his hand and walking fast through the motel. Dean almost tipped on his feet, but he knew the mission was more important for the greater good — for his boner and your nose.

You slammed the door shut, waking up a scared Sam. You could hear him hit the floor with a loud thump, but you knew you had to save your oxygen while you still could.

“That one was lethal.” Dean rubbed his hands on his face, and you agreed, breathing fresh air in relief. He observed the room, surprise flickering across his features. “We have a bed.”

“Of course we do.” You plopped onto the mattress, looking at him with a sexy smile. “And we should use it.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “I couldn't agree more, sweetheart.” 

Dean started to take his clothes off, and you bit your lower lip at the sight. When the black shirt was thrown on the other side of the bedroom, you started giggling. Dean arched his eyebrows. That wasn't the reaction he expected.

“Your nipples are funny,” you said, still grinning. Wait, were yours like this too? You threw your shirt away, happily already not wearing a bra. “My nipples are funny too. Nipple high five!”

You raised from the bed and touched your nipples with Dean's, who was watching with an adorable, confused face. As soon as your nipples brushed against each other, it was Dean's turn to whimper like a baby.

“Sweetheart, you know my nipples are sensitive.” He pulled away with a smile, uncharacteristically shy for him. 

“I know, but what if it's a good thing?” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers as you led Dean to the bed. You felt light after all those drinks, and you could tell that Dean did, too. You both should have fun with that. “My clit is sensitive and I like when you touch me there.”

“What do you — “ You pushed him to lay on his back, soon jumping on top of him. “Woah, woman!” Dean's eyes were twinkling with much desire, or maybe he was just wasted — you couldn’t tell. Anyway, you would make sure to fulfill this necessity. 

“Besides,” you said, running your hands across his chest, enjoying the view and the not so subtle way Dean's body reacted to your touch. His green eyes were glowing anxiously for your next step. “Cosmopolitan says that we should give men more nipple love, too.” You smiled, surrounded by some nasty ideas. You leaned in, allowing your tongue to circle the outline of his nipple before catching it with your lips.

Dean's eyes shut closed as he bit his lip, the sweet agony lighting him up like a comet. He gripped the sheets tightly in an attempt to compose himself. Your skilled tongue proceeded to swirl his nipple a bit, pressing the wet tip against it before sucking lightly. 

This time, the Winchester couldn't help but exhale a needy moan. Fuck, was it supposed to feel so good? He loved to suck your boobs and imagine knocking you up to get cream from them like you did on his dick, but he never considered you playing with his chest.

Your hand found its way to his free nipple and started to rub it with your thumb, teasing the sensitive skin with a light blow before anything else. You already had gone a bit too fast on his other pinkened nipple for the simple fact of horniness. You could feel his nipple hardening against your finger, while you suck on his other one.

“Sweetheart, you are killing me.” His hold on the blanket tightened, his thick cock fighting to be free of his pants. You felt his cum gun getting ready to blow on your leg and adjusted yourself on top of him, sitting in his lap as you still worked on his breast. “Fuck.”

You pinched his nipple with your fingertips, gaining back a moan of pleasure. You moved your hips back and forth while riding him like a cowgirl, rubbing his erect dick with your wet pussy. You were both still clothed. Ultimately, you attempted to bite his nipple, and Dean groaned loudly, almost a scream. His huge hands knotted into your hair as he bucked his hips, pulling you closer to his chest. You kept exploring his arousement from that spot, scratching and sucking harder. You changed nipples, always caressing the lonely one. The faster you two went, the closer you got. Until your bodies went full YEE HAA and both of you reached liberation with a strong orgasm. His cum gun finally shot inside his pants, and you in yours.

You fell beside him on the bed, and Dean wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer. Both were breathless, sweaty, and incredibly sensitive because of the newfound pleasure. You laid your head on his strong shoulder, laughing softly before grabbing the blanket to clean your mess on his chest. You and Dean stayed like that for a few minutes, just catching your breath.

“That was intense.” He smirked at you, throwing his body on top of yours. “But now, I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun. Gonna dirty your pretty mouth with my white juice. You won't be a veggie once you try my meat, sweetheart.”

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278​  (DEAN’S TAGLIST OPEN) 

Hunter @demonhunterbarbie​ (ALL SPN WORKS TAGLIST OPEN)

[zmediaoutlet]

Prompt: Dean gets cursed into being a virgin again. Blushing, fake bravado, the whole shebang. Sam has to break the spell. It'd be fun if Dean tends to become slightly more demure/blushy once Sam takes control, because that man clearly knows what he's doing (and knows Dean's body well enough to play him like a symphony) while Dean, for all his pretending and show-confidence... doesn't.

(read on AO3)

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sam says,and he knows he’s repeating himself but it’s just—

“Yeah, I heard you the first five times,” Deansays. Sam sighs, tipping down the screen on his laptop so the light’s not inhis eyes, but it doesn’t help at all with looking at Dean like—this.

A spell, is their best guess. Some kind of ritual, done bysome kind of practitioner—witch or hoodoo priest or a hopeful, weird, luckywiccan—and if they’re right it’s to prepare sacrifices, to whatever small godhas been lured to this small town. Making the harvests fruitful, making theseasons mild. Right now it’s a warm spring trembling on the cusp of summer, theforest full of gold light and the lake an idyll, and the town would be gorgeousif it didn’t have unexplained disappearances, once a season of people gonewho’d been acting strange just before they left, and when they found bodies,later, they were hardly recognizable because the people were emptied out.Husks, like they’d been drunk dry of life. It wouldn’t even be that bad,really, because they’ve both seen their share of weird deaths, if when Deancame back from the liquor store he hadn’t had his jacket zipped up to thethroat, and his face flaming, and his voice stuttering and stumbly as he toldSam that something—something’s wrong.

“You don’t remember—” Sam tries, and Dean rollshis eyes, immediately, says, “I told you, I don’t remember any of it.”

He’d been panicky, when he came back. Panicked, like theyhardly ever got anymore unless one or the other of them was dying, but it wasbecause of a woman, some random woman, who smiled at him in a certain way thathe couldn’t even describe, and when Sam snorted and said sounds like she was hitting on you, Dean had stared at him confusedand said, what do you mean?

“Dean,” Sam says, helpless. Dean’s ears and cheeksand throat, all bright red, and his arms folded defensive across his chest. “You’rethirty-six. You’ve slept with I don’t even want to know how many people. You’vehad sex. Jesus, you’ve had sex with me.”

Dean blushes harder. Tomato from his hairline to that tightclosed collar. Sam’s just as lost as he was an hour ago, but Dean just looks…miserable. Sam’s getting there himself. “What about last night?” Samtries. They don’t talk about this kind of stuff, much, but they’ve beentogether long enough that it’s not special. Except in how it is. He swivels hischair around, leans forward, tries to look—calm. “Talk to me. Whathappened?”

Dean rolls his eyes. Changed but not. Some kind of comfort. “Wedrove in to town,” he says, annoyed in that way he gets when he’s freakedout about something. “You bitched about the radio selections, like always.We got some dinner, and you bitched about what I ordered, like always. We got amotel room, and I showered before bed, and then I went to sleep. Like always.”

“Except that’s not—” Sam drags his hand over hisface, and doesn’t miss how Dean’s eyes jump all over, from his eyes to his handto his chest. “Dean. We slept together. Last night, after dinner, afteryou showered. Right here, on that bed.”

He gets big eyes, and a head-shake, and an honest-to-godquiver of the lip. “We didn’t,” Dean says, but soft and uncertain,and it’d be weird enough as it is but it’s way, way fucking weirder with Deanall—

“I don’t get it,” Sam says. He stands up anddoesn’t miss, either, how Dean flinches back, how he squirms with his kneestogether on the edge of the mattress. Dean’s got the Mark of Cain on his armand he’s treating Sam like he’s the predator. What kind of cruel joke is Sam’slife. He pushes his hand through his hair, looking at the research they’vemanaged to scrounge up in the past twenty-four hours. Missing people, theirpictures stuck to the wall. “Offerings, right? To something. Mostly youngbut not always, mostly women but not always, and with you like—like this—Iguess it’s—”

“Virgin sacrifice,” Dean says, and when Sam turnsaround he’s not red anymore but patchy pink-and-white, his eyes huge, and Samgoes right to his side and grips his shoulders, and Dean flinches still but helooks at Sam like he’s the only thing in the world.

“It’s not going to happen,” Sam says, and Deanlooks back and forth between his eyes before his attention fixes to Sam’smouth, and when it does he squeezes his eyelids tight, turns his face away likeit hurts. Sam cups the side of his neck, instinct, and Dean shudders under hishands like it’s revolting but doesn’t move to get away.

“You’re—” Sam starts, but bites the inside of hischeek before he can say it. Afraid. Disgusted. Virgin, his brainsupplies, and immediately after supplies Dean grinning and lascivious as heducked down Sam’s body, the night before, as he opened up Sam’s jeans andsucked down his dick like it was a treat he’d been looking forward to all day.Knowing Dean, it might well have been. Sam licks his lips and touches his thumbto the column of Dean’s throat, dragging slow even pressure down to the hollow,just above where he’s zipped up tight, and Dean actually—trembles, under hishands, like Sam hasn’t felt since—since he was soulless, that once, and healmost rips his hands away except that this isn’t that. He’s… almost onehundred percent sure, that it isn’t that.

“Tell me,” Sam says. His voice feels sore and heclears his throat. “What it feels like, Dean, tell me.”

Comes out harder when he tries again. Dean breathes shaky,eyelashes shuttered low. His cheek’s a line of hot pink, strange contrastagainst the stubble he’s let grow nearly into a beard. “I don’t—” hesays, and swallows, quivery against Sam’s hand. “I don’t get it. Whatyou’re—doing. I don’t know why you’re touching me like that.”

“Do you want me to?” Sam says. Almost ten years,he hasn’t had to ask.

Dean’s mouth opens, and closes. His eyes slide toward Sam’sface and he laughs, sort of, a strange unhappy sound. “It’s so fuckingweird, dude,” he says, and sounds a little more like himself. He lifts ahand and barely, barely touches Sam’s forearm, fingertips so light Sam almostdoesn’t feel them. “I—damn it, I’m freaking out, with you so close, andtouching me, and your—body—” His eyes squeeze closed, which is luckybecause Sam can’t imagine what’s on his face right now. “I just don’tknow,” Dean continues, low. “I can’t—I want to get away but I can’t.And I want—I want something, but I don’t know what it is. Like there’ssomething I’ve been waiting for and I’m gonna get it, but at the same time itfeels like—like I’m gonna die, if I get it. And I want it anyway.”

Virgins, Sam thinks, and a rolodex in the back of his headoffers up a dozen gods, a dozen rituals, too many spells to count. Virgins,scared and ripe, ready to be eaten up in exchange for all sorts of wonderfulthings. Yesterday they went to the morgue and looked at the last victim, awoman who’d been twenty-six when last seen by her husband, and on the metaltable she’d been torn open, her skin shrunk down to the bone, her eyes blackholes in her face. Used up.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Sam says, again, and Deanturns his face away, huffs with annoyance. Trembling still, like he’s therabbit and Sam’s the snake. Sam lets his hands go light but Dean doesn’t try toget away. “A spell. Right? But virginity isn't—anything. Physically, Imean. What matters is—”

That moment, he thinks, but it’s hard even to pin down. Toquantify or explain. That place where the hazy understanding from furtivewhispers and porn turns into something known. The facts immaterial in the faceof that shock of—he doesn’t even know how to think about it, really, but infront of him Dean really, really doesn’t.

“How long was it?” Sam says. He sounds rough.“Between when the victims went missing and when they were found?”

“Three days,” Dean says. The color in his cheekhasn’t faded.

Dean was gone for two months, not two months ago. Sam dragshis hands down Dean’s arms and squeezes his wrists. He’s not sure he’d make itthrough three days of Dean gone, at this point.

“Okay,” he says, and leans forward, and kissesDean’s mouth.

A flinch. “What,” Dean says, breathy, and Samgrabs his jaw and holds him in place to be kissed again, taking it even if it’snot offered. Dean’s hands come up to press uncertain against Sam’schest—pushing, sort of, but so light it’s like it’s not his brother, who couldwrestle him to the floor if he wanted, who could break his arm if he wanted.His mouth’s soft, yielding, and when Sam licks inside Dean makes this highstrange sound in the back of his throat like he’s being hurt and doesn’tparticipate, doesn’t grin and kiss Sam back, doesn’t grip Sam close and lean inlike this is the best part of his day.

“Fuck,” Sam says, as he breaks away, and Deanblinks at him huge-eyed, his mouth still half-open like he doesn’t know how itgot there. “Do you—” Dean shakes his head. Sam palms the side of hisface, this vague churn of nausea starting in his gut. “You want me tostop.”

Dean opens his mouth wider and then hangs, breathing, likehe can’t get the words out. Spells, Sam thinks, and sacrifice. Willing andnot-willing, beautiful and afraid. It’s as clever as it is vile. He closes hiseyes, ducks his head in closer so it’s nearly a hug, and Dean does touch himthen, a light hand on his side. Not knowing how to consent to things they don’tunderstand, so they can’t say no and they can’t say yes, either.

Well. Sam knows his brother, and he knows what’s waiting, ifsomething else catches him. “I’m not going to stop,” Sam says. Queercertainty, in the face of Dean’s confusion. “Dean. You’re not—I’m notletting you be one of those people.”

Frowning—confusion, like he has no idea what Sam’s talking about—andgod, maybe he doesn’t, but that doesn’t make this any less necessary. “Takeoff your clothes,” Sam says, and Dean gapes at him. Sam squeezes his eyesshut and pulls off his own shirt, his undershirt, yanking them over his headand tossing them aside, and when he looks again Dean’s staring at his bareskin, at his tattoo, and Sam ignores that because this skin should be familiarground, ten years and whole lives and deaths between them and Dean shouldn’tlook at him like anything but a known quantity. He hauls Dean closer with apull on his wrist and Dean staggers in, and Sam gets the zip on the jackethalfway down before Dean has time to more than paw at him, futile. “Stopit,” Sam says—asks—but of course Dean can’t help it, weird compulsion takingover his body, and so Sam has to just—muscle through it, shoving Dean’s handsaway and stripping off the jacket, pulling it down his arms and taking hisovershirt with it, and pulling the black tee over his head, and when he’s nakedfrom the waist up he wraps his arms around himself, like it’s something Sam hasn’tseen. Like that soft stretch of his stomach, like his chest that Sam’s bittenup and slept against, like that isn’t familiar ground. He looks at Samstartled, like he wasn’t Sam’s first time with a guy, both of them bruised andtheir knuckles sore and Sam desperate to prove—what, he doesn’t even remember.Like he didn’t hold Sam in the night, not two months ago, and kiss his jaw andsay I’m sorry, I’m sorry, like Sam needed an apology in the face of havinghim, having his body, home and safe again.

But Dean doesn’t remember those things. Sam kicks off hisboots, peels off his socks and jeans and underwear until he’s bare, and Deanstares at him with his face almost vacant. “I’m gonna take care of you,”Sam says, and Dean says, a strange note in his voice, “But this isn’t foryou,” and when Sam reaches out Dean backs up, nervous, until he hits themattress with the back of his knees. Sam’s hand curls helpless in the air, a second,before he reaches out and grips Dean’s wrist, hard.

It’s a fight and it’s not. Dean pulls away but there’s nostrength to him, and even if Sam’s been able to outclass him for years now itshouldn’t be like this, with Sam fresh off an injury and Dean with the marklighting up his blood. It’s easy, easy, way easier than it should be, and Deantwists but it’s all a playact, a show. Virgin from a movie, pink-cheeked and ignorant,not knowing what Sam’s going to do to him—what whatever ravenous thing wasgoing to do, what it might have bitten into and eaten out of him.

Naked with the lamps still on, Dean’s pale-golden, red fromhis ears to his throat to his chest, his thighs clamped tight, his dick soft.He puts his hands up when Sam grips him and shoves him further up the bed butof course he doesn’t push Sam away—his hands gripping at Sam’s shoulders buttoo lax to do anything about it. Sam hardly has to force it to get his kneesapart, to slide up between them where he’s home, but Dean’s face is scrunchedtight, turned away. “Can you—” Sam says, but on second thought he doesn’twant Dean to look at him—not like this, not with that tight fearful tip to hismouth.

He kisses Dean there, instead, and if he doesn’t have toforce it he can be—soft. Kind of soft. Dean lets out a small hurt noise but Samignores it, kisses him again, and props himself up on one hand so he can tipDean’s chin up, and kisses him gentle and unmet by affection on the lips,pressing in soft to lick inside. Dean’s fingers curl against his chest and heshudders but it’ll have to do, because Sam’s not going to fuck Dean without kissinghim—they’re better than that, now, and Sam’s not going back no matter how vilethis feels.

Despite everything—Dean’s taste, the same. The smell of him,the same. Sam dips and breathes against Dean’s jaw, brushes his lips againstthe too-long stubble, and despite everything his dick’s lengthening, pressingup against the soft inside of Dean’s thigh. He holds Dean’s throat and kisseshis collarbone and Dean’s chest hitches, unexpected, and Sam presses hisforehead there against Dean’s tattoo and slides his hand down, cups Dean’s softdick small in his hand and squeezes, gentle, coaxing. This at least isgenuinely new, to both of them. “You think you can get there?” hesays, something flickering inside. Dean makes a wounded noise, his thighs squeezingaround Sam’s hips, gripping at Sam’s shoulders enough to dig his nails in butno strength to push him away, and Sam kisses his pec, the skin soft and familiar—suckshis nipple in, the puffy soft of it just right under his tongue, and he’d biteusually because it makes Dean squirm and laugh and push at him hard, makes Deansay it’s not a friggin salad bar, freak, but with Dean like this—he’s careful,lapping slow, sucking just enough that the soft skin pulls between his lips, Deanalways as soft here as a girl—and—ah, there, Dean’s back arches and his handslips to the back of Sam’s neck, his dick plumping, a little. A little. Hisnipple buds up in Sam’s mouth and Sam groans for it, his own dick sliding up againstthe soft curve where Dean’s ass meets his thigh, and Sam has to pull away,breathing hard, while Dean pants above his head, confused.

“That’s not—” Dean says, and Sam picks up his headto find Dean frowning down at him, mouth red and tooth-dented, and Sam switchesto the other nipple, suckling it to a reluctant firmness, rolling Dean’s littledick in his grip while Dean squirms and faux-struggles and arches under him,learning something new.

Virgins, Sam’s been thinking, this whole time. Not anythingbased in reality but a symbol full of power nevertheless, and what symbolism isrequired to break it. What they’ve done before but what Dean doesn’t remember.What he’s scared of, every time his hips hitch under Sam’s and his knees dragup, trying to close.

When he’s done Dean’s chest is wet, his nipples even puffierthan before, worked red. He dips lower, kisses Dean’s shuddery stomach, kisses wherethe barely-there line of hair leads down to his dick—kisses his dick, wet, andfeels Dean’s thighs cringe up around his shoulders pressing them open, and whenhe sucks in one of Dean’s balls Dean cries out, sliding his hands into Sam’shair, pulling as much as he can. “Does it feel good?” Sam says,stupid instinct, and stupider when he looks up and Dean’s shaking his head,helpless. His face—

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam says, and buries his face therein the crease of Dean’s thigh and kisses whatever he can reach, touching himcareful, because Dean's—

“Stop,” Dean says, cracked, crying, and Sam shakeshis head and touches Dean’s asshole finally, what he’s been inching toward thiswhole time, because he knows how virgin sacrifices work and what’s going to berequired of them, here, and Dean actually does twist away, then—sets his heelsin the bed and pushes, trying to put distance between them. His dick’s halfwayto hard but that doesn’t matter—his body flushed, waking up to what Sam’s alwaysknown how to do to it, but that doesn’t matter—because whatever awful thing wantsit to hurt, wants it sore, and Sam pushes up, kneels revolted for a bare second,and then catches Dean around the thighs, drags him back into place.

“Dean—” he says, and he doesn’t know if he’s eversounded so pleading, but Dean twists his face away, panting, and Sam catcheshis forearm and pushes it back against the bed, his hand covering up the mark,and Dean of course stays there because even if he’s supposed to fight he’s notallowed to win. Sam clenches his jaw, closes his eyes, but he knows what he’sgot to do. He’s not going to let Dean get hurt by another hand ever again, ifhe can help it.

Dean cries out again when Sam presses lube-slick fingersagainst him—goes still, shocked, when the fingers press inside. Sam starts withtwo by habit but Dean’s tight, a vicious band of heat around his knuckles, and hewatches Dean’s face, careful. He knows Dean’s body but Dean’s body isn’tDean’s, right now. Panting at the ceiling, his hand that Sam hasn’t trappedgripping at the polyester blanket. “Talk to me,” Sam says, desperate,“tell me if it hurts, come on—”

“It doesn't—” Dean starts, and Sam pushes deeper,working the lube in as far as he can. Dean’s jaw drops, his thigh tipping out.Normally Sam might grin triumph and Dean would roll his eyes and smack him andsay, more, bitch, and Sam would—but he pulls his hand away, now,drizzles more lube in and pushes in again and Dean hitches breath, muscleflexing unexpectedly as he pulls at the blanket.

“First time,” Sam says, aching. He can’t fix itbut he can make it less—how it is. “You bet me fifty bucks and an oilchange that I couldn’t make you come like this, just my fingers. We had Pieces ofEight on the tapedeck, and we got to Queen of Spades before you started to—and fuck,it was hot, Dean, I know you can’t remember but it was the hottest thing I eversaw.”

“Sam,” Dean says, wet stripes down his temples andhis mouth trembling, and Sam says, “I’m gonna fuck you now,” and Deangrimaces and covers his face with his hand, and Sam picks his hips up, his assplush and sweet in Sam’s lap, tipped up so Sam’s got easy access to get justthe right angle, and he lets Dean’s forearm go—bloodless impression of his handoutlined around the mark, that’s gonna bruise, fuck—and pulls Dean’s hand away,holds it while he presses his dick against where he’s made Dean wet and soft, wherehe’s gonna bust him open.

“You like this, Dean, I promise you do,” Sam says,kind of desperate, and Dean shakes his head, chest heaving on a sob, but he’slooking Sam in the eyes, and that means Sam can see it when he pushes inside,Dean’s body giving up space around him the way it always has, tight-and-then-soft,hot, right. Right.

Dean stops shaking, the fine quiver in his skin stilling.Sam pushes deeper, the slick between them just enough from long practice, andDean’s thighs tip wider, his face an open shock. When Sam bottoms out he staysstill, and when he lets Dean’s hand go Dean doesn’t shove at him or try to getaway. He keeps his eyes on Dean’s face and lets him feel it—feels it himself,in a way he hasn’t. That perfect grip and Dean’s skin, and his eyes, wet andthe lashes clumped and dark but locked in, on Sam’s. Strange moment. Separatebut not, anymore, and Sam arches his hips, curving forward and cramming himselfjust that tiny bit deeper, and Dean’s lips part, his cheeks so red he looksburned.

“Feel,” Sam says, and curls in so he can kissDean’s face. Wet and salt, and the heat of that blush. He slips an arm under Dean’sback and rocks his hips just a little, and feels the jolt, and when he lifts upagain Dean looks almost like he doesn’t know where he is. Or like—

“Hey.” Sam grabs his hands, holds them tight.“Hey, are you with me?”

“Sammy,” Dean says, and lifts his hips. Itclenches, inside, and Sam lurches forward, crushing Dean’s legs back so they’realmost pressed to his shoulders. Dean winces but moans, too, and he takes ahand away to curl his arm over Sam’s shoulders, holding him closer.“Sam,” he says again, breathy, and Sam lifts up and kisses him andDean—he doesn’t respond like he should, but he doesn’t just lay there like amannequin, either, and Sam’s so relieved he could cry.

When they pull apart Dean touches his jaw, eyes distant. “Ican't—it’s not the same,” he says, shaking his head. He arches his backand groans, frustrated. “You're—I know something’s coming but I don’t knowwhat.”

Sam shifts, bracing his knees, and gives Dean a real, steadythrust, holding still again as he bottoms out, and Dean grunts, groans again,startled. Not the virgin fakeness—that maybe gone, from that first piercingmoment of someone inside him—but not fixed, not knowing. He grips atSam’s hair, breathes out with his head tipped back on the blanket, and Samfucks into him again, wondering. “Oh—god, god,” Dean says, squirming,“why does that feel so good,” and Sam pushes in and kisses him, intent,rocking his hips for real now, a rhythm they’ve worked out long before,cramming Sam’s dick in just where it does its best work.

“We’re not done,” Sam says, holding Dean’s face.Dean gulps air, rakes his nails against Sam’s shoulder. “I’m going to comein you. Make sure.”

“Jesus,” Dean says, shaky, looking thunderstruck.He hooks a leg around the back of Sam’s, arches, and his face goes distant asSam jolts up inside him at a new angle. God, he feels good. Hard now, too,between them. “What’s that like?”

Sam groans, lifting up. Dean’s spread out, below him, anopen feast. His eyes still uncertain but trusting Sam to know. “You’llsee,” Sam says. He cups Dean’s balls in his hand, rolling them soft, andwatches Dean’s face go tight, wanting. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, Dean.”

*

(Later—much later—Dean shifts, where he’s curled into the commaof Sam’s body. Sam hasn’t let go, really. He says, quiet, What if I’dfought?

Sam opens his eyes, looking at the curve of Dean’s shoulder againstthe light.

I can be—I could’ve hurt you.

Sam rubs his thumb against the tendons in Dean’s forearm.Slides up, to where he left his handprint, and closes his hand soft thereagain. I would’ve done it anyway. Dean’s head turns, enough that Sam cansee the shape of his cheekbone, his eyelashes dark against his cheek. Nothing’staking you away. Not again.

Gleam on Dean’s skin, where the tear-tracks dried. Good,is all Dean says, and Sam closes his eyes, and they sleep.)

[skinks]

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

[a-simple-imagine]

When an Angel gets her wings

Synopsis: Y/N is finally getting her wings so the angels take her out to celebrate but things go wrong after a spot of day drinking. 

Pairing: Elements of Jane Kano x fem!reader. (might do a second part that delves a little deeper)

Words: 2.9k

A/N - Charlie’s Angels (2019) is a brilliant movie you guys are just mean. I love these characters and would die for each and every one of them. I didn’t know if anyone would actually be interested in this but I wanted to write about my favourite angels. 

Drifting giddily through the large double doors of the outpost in search of three in particular angels after some much-deserved appreciation. It had been months of hard work in the making. Day after day of training. From defusing bombs to jumping out of planes - which almost brought your lunch back up - you were officially done and ready to get your wings. You were dreading the needle to come but it'd all be worth it when you're out in the field as an agent. The outpost was pretty quiet but Sabina seemed to notice your arrival. Jumping over the arm of the sofa chair with surprising grace, she walked towards you.

"So?" You purse your lips, making her wait just for the drama of it all before breaking out into a cheesy grin.

"Guess whose getting her wings tomorrow?"

"Yesssss," The excitement clear on her face. Both hands in the air, she slapped them against yours in a high ten. "That's my girl. I'm taking you out to celebrate and I will not take no for an answer.

"But-"

"Ah ah ah," She shoved her finger against your lips bringing you to an abrupt stop. Brows knitted together in utter disgust. "Go collect Jane. I'll get Elena and we'll meet back here in five."

"But I haven't agreed yet." You counter but she just slips away in search of Elena. Slapping her hands over her ears and turning back to look at you. "Sorry what? I can't hear you."

"You're such a dick." With a playful roll of your eyes, you spin on your heel and wander off to find arguably your favorite angel. Becoming an angel had never been the plan then again you didn't exactly know about the organization. But being a spy definitely hadn't been what you told the career advisor back in the days of your youth. No, you hadn't a clue where you were heading or what you wanted. From eighteen you'd pretty much been on your own; social interaction was not your strong suit but then you found a sense of purpose at the agency. A will to live. You had been shy at first but after Elena took the first step in approaching you, you'd grown in confidence and joined the trio making it a quadruple. You had a soft spot for Jane though, you had since the day you first saw her decked out in her tactical gear. Tall, beautiful and deadly was such a glorious combination that described her perfectly. She could also be a little cold but that was easily overlooked when you got to see her dorky side. So who can blame you if you may or may not have developed a teeny little crush on her. You liked to think you were good at hiding it but who knows; she was a former MI6 spy so she's gotta be pretty good at reading people.

You find miss Kano, doing some target practice; throwing some very sharp blades at a black target ten feet away. Typical Jane using her free time to train. You waited until the last knife slipped from her grip, flying towards the middle of the three black circles. She had an impeccable aim. "Guess who finished their last day of training."

Jane turns spotting you overhead and giving you a smile. Heading down the stairs, you practically run into her congratulatory open arms. "I'm being dragged out to celebrate if you wanna come with? I think Sabina could do with adult supervision."

"First of all, she's older than me," You leaned back with a cheeky grin. "And that's what you're there for."

"We both know I need the supervision too. Sabina just has to look at me and I cave into her, she's very convincing." You insist. "Elena is probably the most sensible one and that's saying something."

"Yo," Sabina's voice interrupts the conversation. "How long are you two gonna gaze into each other's eyes? Let's go!"

Without so much as a glance in her direction, you stick up a middle finger.

"I'm gonna pass, sorry" Jane flashes you a sympathetic smile before turning to go collect her knives."Maybe next time."

"Is the kill joy coming?" Sabina shouted.

You take a deep breath, rolling your eyes at Sabina but keeping your attention on Jane. You were hoping she would come so you can't say you're not disappointed. "No worries. You're gonna be there tomorrow though right?"

"Isn't Sabina gonna be there?" She glanced briefly back at you, yanking on one of the knives stuck in the bored.

"Yeah and Elena too but I want you there too. I only get my wings once," You flash your best puppy dog face, batting your eyelashes. "Please. You promised."

The last blade came loose, and she walks back towards you. Noticing your expression, she sighed softly. "Fine."

You jumped on the woman, pulling her into a surprise hug; careful to avoid the sharp metal in her hand.

"Dude hurry it up. I wanna see how drunk we can get before the sun goes down."

You both glance towards Sabina then back at each other. Waving your hand dismissively, you let out an awkward little laugh. "She's kidding, we're gonna day drink responsibly."

"I know you're lying."

With a playful wink, you walk back up the stairs. Giving her a little wave as you go. "See you later, have fun training." Sabina puts one arm around you as you walk up beside her, pulling you into flush against her. "Where's Elena?"

"Patience, young angel, she's coming."

"Not an angel" You remind her.

"Soon to be."

"Where's the future angel?" You'd recognise Elena's voice anywhere and just as you unravel from Sabina a pair of arms grab you from behind. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks." You comment, slipping from her grip. Sabina leads the charge turning around to the two of you.

"You're gonna make a great angel."

"I'm ready to get so drunk I don't even know my name."

"When are you ever not?" You tease, pushing her out the doors with Elena giggling behind you.

You headed downtown to a small, rather empty bar then again it was two in the afternoon. There were like five people max and three of them were you guys. The other two seemed like regulars. One was sat the other end of the bar, staring up at a small TV that was playing some sporting event. The other was a woman, sitting alone in a booth looking as miserable as ever. Your cheery attitude didn't seem to be received well by her but that didn't matter. Taking up three stools at the bar, Sabina starts the festivities off with shots and by the time the sun went down, you had no concept of time anymore. The entire night just blending into one.

With your ear firmly pressed to the receiver of a tabletop red phone, you listened to the dial tone ring and ring and ring. Humming along as you waited. Sabina was sat in a chair next to you while Elena was next to her.

"H-hello?" The voice was heavy with sleep and you can't really blame her considering the time but you're grateful she answered. She sounded so cute when she was sleepy.

"Jane!"

"Y/N? Is everything all right? Why are you calling me at," there was a moments pause. "Three A.M?"

"Are you mad? P-please don't be mad."

"Hi Jane," Sabina called loudly down your ear so you shove her away.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything but Sabina said you'd probably be mad and I don't... I don't want you to be mad at me, okay? I don't know anyone else's number by heart so I had to call you-"

"You're rambling," Jane interrupts bringing you to a stop. When you drank you seemed to gain the confidence to become chatty. You could go on for hours about nothing at all. It was a real talent. The only shame is you can't be drunk all the time otherwise life would be simpler.

"You would know Jane's-"

"Shut up Sabina." Your palm collides with her cheek shoving her away from the phone. She pushed back against your hand.

"Let me talk to her,"

"No, I'm talking to her."

"Y/N," Sabina whines.

"Go away." With gritted teeth, you push back harder giving Elena the chance to take the phone. You continue to playfully fight with Sabina until you're both scolded by a cute officer who sat behind a desk not too far away. It was late so not much was happening. A few people waiting to get booked. Two officers were chatting over a cup of coffee. Elena was now explaining the situation as best she could with zero pauses or interruptions from a drunk Sabina.

"Tell her we are at the station." You utter in a louder whisper than intended. "Tell her she has to come pick us up but make it very clear that Sabina is to blame because I've never done a single thing wrong in my entire life. I was well behaved like always."

"That is not true." Sabina shoves into you, stretching over your lap to grab the phone. Elena just moves away slightly. "She's always blaming everything on me. I didn't do anything- make that clear. Not a single thing."

Elena shushed the both of you and you couldn't help but giggle. Finishing up her conversation, she finally hung up the phone and placed it back in its holder before sitting down next to you. "Jane said she'll be right over."

"How long?" You wonder, letting your head fall to rest against her shoulder.

"Not sure."

"Can't we just leave then. They're not charging us."

"They want someone to come get us." With no clue how long she'll be you decide nows a good time to rest your tired eyes. Feeling the weight of Sabina as she falls to rest her head against you. Drifting off into a relatively light sleep.

When you're awake, you jump a little at the sight of Jane staring down at with a stern face. Arms folded across her chest. A dopey smile spreads over your lips as you reach out for her. "Jane! You came."

"Excuse my friend here," Sabina yawned, patting your shoulder. "she's a little drunk."

"No, I'm not." You argue, shaking your head rapidly. "I'm fine. Just happy Jane is here- Hi Jane."

"Hi Y/N." Her voice was surprisingly gentle. you're glad she's here but you feel bad for making her get out of bed. "Come on, Let's get you in the car."

Pushing up, you trip over your feet and fall forward into Jane's awaiting arms. "Whoa there. You alright there? Think you can walk?"

"Carry me." You whine softly, pushing your bottom lip out in a pout. Jane helped you stand up straight, the world around you feeling a little dizzy.

"I gotcha." Sabine insists. bending her knees. "Get on my back."

You climb onto Sabina's back, wrapping your arms carefully around her neck as to not strangle her. She supports you by looping her arms around your legs, hiking you up a little higher into a piggyback. "Ready?"

You nod a little, holding her tighter. "Let's go superman."

"Come on, Jane." Sabina starts running towards the door and although you feel uneasy you can't help but giggle. Elena is already out the door while Jane simply trails behind.

You're sat in the back of Jam's car, watching the world pass by out the window. The motion was not agreeing with you so the pressure was on to not puke everywhere was high. Sabina sat to your left, Elena was in the passenger's seat with Jane behind the wheel. Nobody was talking and for some reason, Jane wouldn't put on the radio no matter how many times you asked.

"I can't believe you three." Jane finally scolded

"Really," Sabina questions. You rolled down the window a little, needing the fresh morning air.

"Okay, maybe I expect this from you but not you two."

"Jane?" Sabina leaned forward against the back of the driver's seat. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Depends,"

"It's about Y/N. She spills secrets if you get enough alcohol in her." You glance towards Sabina, unsure of where this was going. There were so many possibilities. "Seems our dear friend here has a little crush on-"

"Shush," you leap on the woman. Had you really told her about your crush on Jane or was she just teasing? Given the circumstances, you weren't willing to risk it. "Please don't."

You lay in her lap and without asking, Sabina starts running her hand through your hair. "You're looking a little pale there bud."

"Yeah I feel like I'm gonna puke and I'm not opposed to doing it all over you if you tell them."

"Do not puke in my car," Jane growled.

"Wait where was I when you were sharing this?"

"Bathroom," Sabina replies. "Don't worry it was no one special."

Crisis averted for now.

The pounding in your head was paired nicely with the pit in your stomach. A rough groan as your eyes flutter open to a place far too bathed in sunlight for your liking. Wait... this isn't your apartment? When did you get here?

"Rise and shine sleepyhead."

"Where am I?"

"My apartment." Pushing up, you feel overwhelmed by dizziness. Jane stands before you; fresh-faced and taking a bite of a small banana. How did she manage to always look so good? You look around the room, expecting to spy the others but it's just the two of you.

"What happened to... to Sabina?"

"Taken over my bed, she crawled into it as soon as we got here. You passed out on the couch while Elena who seemed to the only competent one got in an Uber."

"I blame... Sabina." You face planted the arm of the couch, feeling like you got hit by a truck.

"I heard. You shouted it down the phone at the station, after you got arrested for getting into a fight," she explained, disapproval laced in her voice. You vaguely remember a fight, more like an argument that resulted in Sabina punching a man.

"Fuck," you mumble, turning your head to the side. Cheek pressed into the fabric, sore eyes focused on Jane. "Sorry for making you come pick us up."

"What happened to responsible day drinking?"

You laugh weakly at the joke. "That went down with the first shot."

"You're gonna have to get up," Jane urges. "Big day and all."

"What's today?"

"Your wings."

"My tattoo." You push up instantly, the throbbing intensifying to the point your entire face scrunches up in pain and you have to take a moment. "I'm gonna be a fucking angel."

"Are you okay?"

"A little hungover- Maybe still a little drunk." You reply, letting your body fall back down with a painful thump. "I'm gonna go back to sleep until it's time."

"Y/N, it's-"

"They say the best way to cure a hangover is to keep drinking. I'm gonna need an aspirin and some vodka."

"No vodka." Jane scolded, pointing in her direction. "Water. I have orange juice too in the fridge."

Sabina was stood in the kitchen area, half-dressed but still doing better than you seemed to be. She saluted before pulling open the fridge. "You know Jane, you really should consider being more fun."

"Leave Jane alone." You grumble, sitting up entirely. A glass of water sat on the glass coffee which you happy took along with the aspirin.

"No one asked you." She huffed, pulling out a carton of fresh orange. Twisting off the cap, she must have been debating downing it straight because she paused before getting a glass.

"Fuck you Beany."

"Love you too." She took a sip of her glass of juice before gently placing it down. Flinching at the sound. "Say it back."

Jane smiles at you. "Do you want me to take you home? You are in dire need of a shower, no offense. So are you, Sabina. My apartment reeks of alcohol."

"You are just full of complaints, Janey." She downed the rest of her juice. "I can make my own way home. I'm a big girl but I'm sure Y/N would love to."

"I'll take a ride, I'm not sure I can make it home by myself."

After Sabina finally put her pants back on, she headed home while you took Jane up on her offer. The car ride was pretty quiet, your head in shambles under the bright lunchtime sun. You had apparently slept for most of the morning which makes sense. The drive was silent. You didn't want to say anything in case she was mad and Jane kept to herself. You'd occasionally glance towards her but nothing would follow. It didn't take long for her to drive to the drop off point although it felt a lot longer.

"Thanks," you state with a quick smile as she pulls up outside your block.

"No problem. Sober up and I'll see you later." She returned your smile and you can't help but smile a little brighter. You got out of the car, closing the door behind you. "Oh and Y/N."

"Yeah?"

"You having a crush on me was never a secret." She drives away before you can even think of a way to respond. Sabina had definitely snitched at some point.

[peterthepark]

crush culture - [four]

party tattoos

pairing: steve harrington x reader (university & modern!AU)

summary: gold dresses, unspoken kisses, and impulsive decision making are always good starts to the new year.

warnings: strong language, uses of social media & alcohol, pure utter fluff fluff fluff, kissing, mentions of tattoos, bad dancing?

a/n: inspired by party tattoos by dodie :) sorry it’s taken me so long to update. this chapter isn’t long, considering i haven’t been active for some time. but the next chapter makes up for it! thanks for ur patience everyone!

Shelves line up Steve’s peripherals as he pushes the shopping cart. The rolling wheels squeak loudly beneath him while you hum and coo at the quirky party decorations that embellished the aisles. Having never hosted a celebration at your own place before, you had decided to entrust in Steve and his experience with parties to help you out.

Robin and Kate wanted a golden theme for the party, both of them being shockingly specific about the type of decorations you should buy, while they prepare the food and drinks. And now here you are, sitting cross-legged in a shopping cart as Steve hand a pack of gold solo cups to you. You pile it into the rest of the decor: paper plates, those little flag thingies you hang up on walls, white and black balloons, and of course, sparklers that would certainly be Instagram-worthy.

“How ‘bout these, Y/N?” Steve snickers, placing an oversized frame of glasses on his face. With a lopsided grin, he does a playful spin for you. You flick the glasses off his nose, laughing at him as he feigns a look of offense. “Hey! Chill!”

“We’re supposed to be shopping, not messing around, you idiot.” You scoff at him, quirking a brow as he puts the glasses back on the shelf. His hand subconsciously moves to rest on top of yours on the bar of the car; the gesture comes to you easily, and you don’t seem to mind the way his thumb runs over your knuckles.

“Okay, so what’s next on the list?”

-

The kiss hadn’t been brought up.

Not even once.

And you honestly think that maybe you must’ve dreamt it, seeing as Steve seemed to act like it hadn’t happened it.

The morning after said incident, you awoke to an empty bed and the familiar smell of freshly-brewed coffee. Steve was in the kitchen, speaking to Jonathan in a hushed voice. You didn’t care to eavesdrop, knowing that the conversation seemed to be none of your business. But Steve began acting differently towards you after that. He seemed more open, more comfortable, and happier around you. Yet, no one had the guts to bring up the late-night kiss.

“Steve, is this straight? Does this look straight to you?” You whine, glancing down at him with a frustration expression. The chair wobbles as you lean further to tape the hanging decorations to the wall, and Steve is quick to keep the chair still, not wanting you to fall and hurt yourself. “Does it look okay?”

“Y/N, it looks fine, but you’ve gotta be careful. You’re literally gonna fall.” He says in exasperation, gripping your hand to help you down.

“I just want this to look good. I’ve got King Steve here himself, I’m sure he knows what a good party looks like.” You tease, biting your lip.

Steve cringes at the thought of you knowing about his whole King Steve phase, and he ruffles his hair sheepishly at the smirk on your face. “Okay, who told you about that? Was it Jonathan? Like I know I was a complete dick back then, but man-“

“No, silly. Robin told me. I didn’t know you were such a playboy.” You walk past him, chuckling as he follows after you into the living room. “So, are you gonna tell me all about your whole high school experience or what?” You purr, arranging the fairy lights for the DIY photo booth that you made together.

Steve huffs, hesitant to even tell you about the person he was in high school. “I was such a dumbass back then. You don’t even want to know, Y/N.” He groans, kicking his feet atop of the coffee table.

“You’re also a dumbass now. We were all shitty people in high school, trust me.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.” He probes, leaning forward on his elbows.

“I fucked my chemistry teacher.” You reply nonchalantly, earning a sputtering cough and a loud exclamation of really?! from Steve. “I’m kidding! It’s a joke! I did get into a lot of rumor and drama shit, so I guess my high school life wasn’t as perfect as I try to make it out to be.”

Steve lets out a breath of relief. It’s not that there was anything wrong with you possibly screwing your chemistry teacher, it’s just... he honestly wouldn’t expect it from a sweetheart like you. Then again, sweethearts sometimes have hidden agendas.

He starts to look at the way your jeans hug your thighs and then his eyes skim over the expanse of your hips...

Fuck, dude. Not cool.

“Steve? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Huh?” You laugh at him, rolling your eyes at his dumbfounded stare. He shifts awkwardly on the sofa, and he’s praying that you didn’t see the way he was totally ogling you. Which you did.

He’d be in a treat for later then, because the dress you were planning on wearing was definitely far from anything he’s seen on you wear.

“I said, you should go rest before the party. It doesn’t start till like nine, and it’s only five right now. Maybe you’d want to take a nap or - or get ready or something - I don’t know.” You ramble shyly, setting out a couple bottles of champagne and wine. You look over to him, nearly knocking over the bottles when he licks his lips. Instinctively, he catches the bottle before it rolls onto the ground, blushing alongside you as your hands come in contact with each other.

“You tryin’ to get rid of me already, Y/N?” He smiles, pulling his hand away.

“I’m tryin’ to give you a break before we get blind drunk at this party. Take it or leave it, Harrington.” You nudge his shoulder, sharing a lingering gaze with him before you actually make him go home. “O-okay, for real though, go.”

“Alright! Alright!” He raises his hands up, hesitantly making his way towards the door. “Do I have to?” He turns, before you seriously shoo him away. “Okay, bye. I’ll see you later... Y/N.”

He winks teasingly, then he’s out of your apartment.

You sigh dreamily.

You love it when he says your name.

-

“It’s just tequila. Y/N, please, c’mon, do it with me!” Robin cackles, shaking your shoulders. The walls of your apartment rumbled as the speakers played music, blasting out throwbacks and current songs alike. Robin had dragged you to the island in the kitchen, expertly lining up half-filled shotglasses on the counter. She bounces on her toes, clasping her hands together as she begs you to take shots with her. “Please! Just this once!”

“Dude, the last time I drank tequila, I lost all control. Do you not remember how wild we got? I’m not putting myself through that again. I swear - Ro, there’s no way-“

Interrupted, Robin bursts into a gasp, spotting a familiar face from the front door. “Steve! Steve!”

She runs out to pull the chestnut-haired boy into the kitchen, holding him by the shoulders as she drags him towards you. His jaw drops slightly when he sees the gold dress hugging your body, and you don’t hesitate to greet him with a grin.

“If Steve takes a tequila shot, will you do it?”

Steve’s face breaks into a smile at Robin’s question, and he gestures at the shotglasses with raised brows. “I can’t say no to that offer. Y/N?”

You take a moment to stare at Steve, recognizing the mischievous glint in his eyes that ultimately causes you to give in.

“Ugh, okay. Yeah. Fine. Tequila.” You wave your hands about, pacing in your heels before you courageously down a shot with Steve. You both groan at the taste, screwing your eyes shut as it burns at your throat and tongue. “Bleh! Ugh, I already feel drunk.”

“Just two more shots.” Steve insists, placing his hand on your arm. He dips his head down to look at you.

“You know what? Who’s to say we were done anyways?” You smirk at him, before you hold out a shot glass for him to drink out of. You unknowingly part your lips as he grips onto your wrist to down the drink, gently pulling your arm away when he’s finished. He wipes his mouth, hissing at the spicy kick.

Parties were boring. Unless you’re blind drunk.

And in this case, parties were fun.

Because well, you’re blind drunk.

The flash of the camera goes off as Kate pulls you into her chest, squishing your cheeks together while Robin comes up behind to sandwich you between them. Classmates and mutual friends alike pile into your shared apartment, easily making conversation or dancing to the music in the living room. The sway of your hips is enough to show the liquid courage that was running through your body as you made your way over to Steve, holding onto his hand to pull him into the makeshift photo booth.

“What are you doing?” He drawls out, raising his eyebrows at you as you stand next to him in front of the backdrop. “Y/N, I look like a mess-“

“You’re hot, Steve. You need to chill out.” You slur, slinging your arm around him as Kate starts taking pictures.

And in the meantime, Steve knows how idiotic he looks in those pictures - mouth open, eyes wide and lips pulling into a smirk as he realizes that you just called him hot. He tries to ignore the way that your face feels against his face as you embrace him tightly and hold up a peace sign.

“Y/N?” Steve asks over the music, nearly shouting. “You look beautiful!”

Your gold dress glimmers under the disco ball that hangs from the ceiling fan, and you forget everything else around you as Steve’s eyes slowly drift down the length of your legs and heels.

“Thanks, Steve.” You reply, blinking up at him hazily. He hesitates for a moment, stepping closer towards you, before Robin quickly whisks you away towards another area of the apartment.

You glance behind you, meeting Steve’s eyes in the growing crowd of people. He raises a glass of beer at you, before he completely disappears in the sea of the party.

“No way. Absolutely no.” Kate groans, clasping her hand over her mouth as her gaze follows yours. “You brought a tattoo artist to the party?”

“More like I paid her to come.” Robin whispers, scratching guiltily at her head. “What? She’s hot! I just - I don’t know she seemed really nice and really sweet and yeah, cute. C’mon, K.” You shake your head at Robin with a smile, taking her hand in yours before giving it a squeeze. “You said you’ve always wanted a tattoo, Y/N?”

“I mean... yes, but... I’m also very drunk right now.” You laugh, rubbing your arms. Robin’s black lipstick tugs up at the corners, and she raises her brows at you with suggestion. “What would I even get?”

The buzzing needle pricks against your skin painfully. You hiss as Gemma puts pressure on your wrist, black ink forming words as she goes on. You shut your eyes, already regretting your decision as you tune out her comforting coos. Kate records you on Snapchat, while Robin laughs drunkenly in the background and praises Gemma for her work.

When she’s finished, you examine the plastic wrap around your wrist, fingertips hovering over the black words as you gasp in awe at it. Kate and Robin gush over it, and you start to become aware of the permanent decision you had just made.

Always indecisive.

Always impulsive.

But never unsure about your feelings for people.

Especially Steve.

After taking a few more drinks to numb the dull pain on your arm, you moved towards the balcony. You step out onto the glass-fenced terrace, shutting the sliding door behind you. Steve turns to glance at you, smile turning into an amazed laugh as you show him the state of your newly-tatted wrist.

“Oh, my god. You did not.” He huffs with unbelief, holding onto your hand as he looks it over. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Only insane when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, shifting from one foot to the other before you put your arms on top of the fence. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“No. No, definitely not.” He answers quickly, waving you off.

“Ooo, I don’t know, Steve. Sounds a little bit like a lie to me.” You push his elbow with yours, burying your nose against your shoulder as you look up at him coyly.

“Okay, maybe I do. But I’m not proud of it. It’s a terrible tattoo, I got it when I was in high school and it’s - it’s stupid.”

“Oh, now you’ve got to show me!” You gasp, pulling on the sleeve of his top as he groans at you. You beg him, promising not to make fun of him in any way shape or form - no matter how stupid the tattoo could’ve been.

So, he preps you a little bit. You mainly think he’s stalling but he claims that he’s just preparing you for the worst. He’s trying to explain himself, yet honestly, you can only hone in on the way he gives you a blushing smile, all while using hand gestures to make light of his point. Fed up, you interrupt him, telling him you don’t quite need an explanation to whatever his damn tattoo even is.

He sighs at you, slumping over jokingly before he decides to untuck his top and tug down the waitband of his jeans to reveal the ink on his hipbone. The tattoo isn’t as bad as you had thought it would be. Steve was simply just overreacting, and maybe self-conscious at the fact that you’d be seeing such a tattoo on him.

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be, Steve.” You smirk, leaning over to look at the tattoo on his hipbone.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.”

“I’m serious! It’s pretty cute.”

The black-inked heart with an arrow through it sits prettily on his fair, flushed skin. It was far from embarrassing, and it was far from a horrible design. You weren’t lying when you said it was cute. It seemed actually... endearing, to have a gentleman like Steve have such a soft-meaningful tattoo in a place where no one could really see it.

“Does it mean anything?” You tilt your head at him, chewing on your lip as he thinks over your question.

“I dunno. Guess I’ve... I don’t know, I guess I’ve always been a - a hopeless romantic? Do those even exist?” He asks aloud, running his clammy palms over his denim-clad thighs. He shrugs, “I’ve always - I’ve always been a little too crazy for love, so whatever, so... it’s a - a fitting tattoo for me, I suppose.” He stares off into the city line, eyes twinkling when he shifts his attention to you. “And what about yours? Any meaning?”

“It’s... it’s open to a lot of things.” You nod.

The words SEE YOU SOON are red with soreness on your skin, healing under the plastic wrap as you carefully let Steve trace over it with his thumb. You can feel his breath against your collarbone as he mindlessly bumps his arm against yours.

“See you soon?”

“I like to think that... people who are - who are meant to be in your life - but leave for whatever reason - are always meant to find a way back to you. It’s just... a lot of people come and go. Especially now. It’d be nice to find a person who’ll stay one day.”

“Deep.” He mumbles, earning a laugh from you. You don’t fail to realize that his hand has slipped into yours, and he holds it over the railing as the chilly Chicago air bites at your skin. “I hope that you’ll find someone who’s willing to stay, Y/N.”

You feel his eyes on you, and without hesitation, you turn your face to look at him. His cheeks are reddened, his cheekbones are accentuated under the moonlight and bright stars, but your more drawn to the way his lips pout together.

“And I hope you find someone who’s just as crazy about love as you are, Steve.” You smile.

He’s about to say something, to ask you a question that he had been longing to ask you for so, so long. But the cheers and drunken chants from the inside call you both back to the living room. The flatscreen TV broadcasts the Ball Drop from NYC, showing the masses of people that had gathered to celebrate the new year. Guests clink their glasses with one another as the countdown hits at the twenty-second mark, and you feel the heightened adrenaline of having a new year approach. Kate and Robin manage to find you, snapping last minute 2019 polaroids in the span of 10 seconds.

“Robin, kiss me!” Kate cackles jokingly, pulling Robin into a rib-crushing hug as they jump around in excitement. You laugh at them, taking your phone to record the moment around you as people begin to count the last few seconds.

Five...

You tuck your phone back into your bag, crossing it over your body as you wrap your arms around your front.

Four...

Steve mimics your posture, but he can’t help but look over at you, waiting for you to pick up on what he was very subtly trying to suggest.

Three...

“Y/N?”

Fuck it.

“Yeah?”

“About that kiss... on - on the night we went ice skating...” He scratches his neck, rambling. “I really - really enjoyed it. And you. Spending time with you.”

“Yeah, me too. I... I had lots of fun and I’m glad that you brought it up because well, I wasn’t sure if I had messed up or something since you weren’t talking about it.”

“Oh! Oh, trust me, you - you did everything perfect.”

Two...

“I did?”

“Yeah, of course. But... but I wanted to ask if... I don’t know if ice-skating counts as a - as a first date but...” He swallows nervously. “Would you like to go on a date with me? Like a real one?”

One...

You step forwards on your heels, cupping Steve’s cheeks in your hands as you kiss him intensely. Your fingers brush over his jaw, and his hands come to rest on the small of your back as he brings you further against him. Party poppers and confetti erupt through the apartment as the clock hits midnight, and you force yourself to pull away from Steve’s lips.

“I’m available next weekend.” You utter, catching your breath.

“Huh?” Steve replies with shaky hands.

You giggle at that, touching his arm. “I meant that I’m available next weekend for our date. If you want to go around that time.” You say to him with blushing cheeks, but never break eye contact.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, me too. I’ll pick you up again. Or we can meet there, whatever you’d prefer.” He smacks his lips together, unintentionally tasting your fruity lipgloss.

“Just text me. And we can plan from there.” You nod, pulling your hand away from him. Before he can say anything else that would embarrass him, Steve excused himself to go make conversation with Jonathan, who seems to have turned up with a few old friends from his hometown.

But at the same time, he couldn’t really focus when all he can see is you across the room, talking animatedly with your gold dress and your high heels and your captivating smile.

And those eyes.

The way you look at him.

The way you give him your undivided attention.

It drives him a bit crazy.

Steve swore that you were just another crush - just another girl who he’d try to get by and probably break up with in the following week after officiating things. But no. You had completely caused him to take a full 360, like literally: when you had hit him with your car, when you offered to bring him coffee, when you said yes to ice skating. He was already entranced by you.

It was supposed to be a crush.

Only a crush.

Nothing more.

But here he was - already falling in love, and he hasn’t even taken out on a proper date.

New year, new beginnings, right?

[miss-choco-chips]

Put a ring on it 2

Gonna drop this here super quick and then go back to cram for my finals. Who allowed me to schedule six finals in one week? I’m gonna die. Pray for me.

Tagging @jedissica ‘cause they asked me to, and @animemangasoul who I think will like this.

---.---

-Batman, here we are. It’s been a while since you last called an emergency meeting. Is everything okay?

-Were you aware that our children eloped together?

-...what.

-As in, my third kid, your first one, Diana’s second, and Barry’s… grandchild. I’m not exactly sure about who married who, but there was more than one wedding and they have a group chat called ‘hubbies and waifu’. Whatever that means.

-...

-...

-That’s my girl. I always told her, go big or go home.

-Diana, no.

----.----

Cassie’s phone went off again with her specific Diana ringtone, and she gave up, turning it off and throwing it on the pile with Kon’s, Bart’s and Tim’s (the last one had four all by himself, so it was quite a big ‘phone tower’; Hah, pun intended).

-You’re gonna freak out so badly over this when you actually wake up -she informed Tim’s fluffy hair. 

Said vigilante only released a cute little snore, face buried on her lap, legs thrown over Kon’s, one hand that had fallen from the couch resting on Bart’s head where he sat on the floor in front of them.

-Well, they were going to find out one way or another. And this was probably among the best scenarios.

-How? I’m sure this one was top five on Tim’s ‘worst case’ nightmare list.

-I was there and saw their faces. I didn’t even know Batman could express any emotion other than ‘cold’ and ‘overflowing with rage’. That image will bring me joy in future distressing times, I’m sure. My patronus memory, if you will.

-I’m soooooooo jealous, dude.

Cassie snorted, carefully not moving an inch, fingers cradling through Tim’s hair. Over her dead body would he ever cut it, now that it was finally long enough to make itty tiny braids all over it, her favorite therapeutic iddle work.

-We’ll make Tim give us footage when he wakes up. He has to provide for us, after all.

Kon let his arm, resting on the backrest of the couch, fall over Cassie’s shoulders- Be sure to include footage from after we left, too. Nightwing’s  ‘As in more than one?!’ part was solid gold.

-No kidding, I want that as my ringtone for you and Tim -chimed in Bart, carefully moving Tim’s hand back to the couch and then running to the kitchen- Ice cream?

-Do you even need to ask?

---.----

By the time Tim woke up, the hero gossip network had done it’s thing, and almost everyone with a costume was aware of the news. Even Cissie, who was officially retired, and Zachary Zatara, away on his shows and usually out of reach, had called, the first one to offer congratulations and ask if the thing was real emotionally-wise, the second to just laugh at them for full six minutes before hanging up. 

He did text them later, asking when the celebration ceremony would be.

-It’s not a bad idea -mused Cassie, showing them her phone screen with the magician’s text- a party, I mean.

Tim, from his place working a case on the Titan’s main computer, tuted- Batman might actually kill me for that. I think we’ve survived this far only because there are no written records making this official, and a part of him must think it’s all some elaborate prank.

-It’s not -insisted Bart, head poking out of the kitchen- we are family now, officially. No take backs.

Their Robin shifted in place just enough for them to see his smile, a gift on itself- I know, guys, and the sentiment is much appreciated. But from a legal standpoint, it’s not that different from what a few kids on a playground could do while playing family. Only place this could stand against judgement would be the future, some ancient Amazonian tribe, or Krypton.

-Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s true for us. And, I mean, we didn’t want to cut your options if you ever wanted to actually get married the classic way.

This time, their bird actually turned around, a warmth on his expression that he usually reserved for his team. It made them feel special like nothing else.

-Yeah, I know. Thank you for that. It was really considerated.

As if they would drag Tim into something like legal marriage without previous consent. The fact that he even felt the need to thank them for showing him basic human decency was making their blood boil with the need to punch a bat on the face.

Kon flew over, the high chair preventing him from draping himself on his best friend’s back, but not from hugging his neck and messing his hair.

-Back at my point -cleared her throat the amazonian-, your former mentor can suck my metaphorical Freudian dick. We could throw a party, and it would only be different from a normal one because marriage celebrations include gifts, which I’m totally for. I haven’t seen Zatara, Cissie, Greta and Anita in a while, and Miguel, Raven and Gar might murder us for not telling them about our plans and not making it up to them with a party. No ‘adults’ out of the ones on team, or mentors, invited, enough alcohol to re-drown Atlantis, fancy food bought with Bat’s credit card…

-You are right, it does sound kinda nice -hummed Kon, floating just out of Tim’s range when former Wonder Boy tried to slap his hands away. Silly bat, always denying affection.

-All in favor?

-I don’t know -giving up, Tim went back to his case files- I have a lot to do this days, and there’s a lead that might take me to Asia…

-Isn’t Cass there? Ask her to take over it for you, as a marriage present or something. C’mon Tim, do it for the gifts. Imagine what Zatara might get for us. So crash.

-If  it’s a magical object, I won't want it anywhere near me. We bats don’t have the best track record with that stuff, and I swear to god if I get deaged I would use my non-prosecutable age to murder someone. Probably Zatara himself.

-Adorable as that might be, it totally won’t happen.

----.----

-....can you repeat it one more time? Slower, though. I think I’m getting hearing problems.

Raven, through the video call connecting the Cave with the Tower, didn’t seem fazed by Nightwing’s slightly threatening tone.

-I said, the team had a party, everyone got drunk, and it was fine for a while. I was watching over them, but then I needed to use the restroom. When I got back, someone had gotten ahold of Zachary’s gift for Tim, Cassie, Kon and Bart, and…

-Why for those four? -asked Hood, standing right by N’s side. He had came in during Raven’s first explanation, and felt like there was something he was missing.

-It was a marriage gift. Moving on…

-A what?! Since when is Lil Red married? The fuck happened while I was in Russia?!

-...someone had gotten ahold of the gift -Raven kept going, cool as a cucumber. On the background behind her, teen heroes were running back and forth, people were screaming and something was smoking-, which happened to be some sort of magical artifact. Zachary wasn’t really aware of what it did, he just randomly choose it from among his collection of magical tools when he remembered at the last possible time a gift was mandatory for a wedding party. I returned from the bathroom and everything was a mess, the couch was turned upside down, a pipe had burst, the tv was on fire and Tim had been de aged.

There was a battle scream, in a distinctly childish voice, somewhere on the room out of view of the camera, and Raven’s eyes left the screen for a second as if looking at it.

-Was that Red Robin? -Batman, because of course he was listening in, started typing at the console, frantically trying to get a new angle to see what was going on on the Tower.

-He’s unharmed, and everything is under control.

Another scream, this time louder.

-...that didn’t sound under control -mused Dick, apparently still processing the information. Bruce typed faster. Robin gripped his sword tighter, as if readying himself for a war.

Jason still looked utterly lost.

-Marriage? She said marriage? AND YOU ASSHOLES KNEW ‘BOUT THIS?!

-He’s… throwing a tantrum -the woman ignored him, still looking only at her former leader-. Something about using his age to kill Zatara without being convicted. I’ll need to leave now, I only called to ask you to take over Tim’s cases while we solve this issue.

-Wait! Rae, if Timmy’s a kid, he needs to be with us. We are his family, it’s our jurisdiction.

A green bird suddenly landed on her shoulder, halthing whatever response she might give. Gar pecked her on the cheek lightly before turning his beak their direction.

-Husbands and Wives get priority, N, you know that. Cassie, Kon and Bart are looking after him, and keeping him from killing Zachary, while the rest of us research how to turn him back. Zach is actually trying to contact his cousin, maybe the great Zatanna will quicken this process. So, yeah, no Bats allowed on the Tower until then!

-But/!

A loud crash, followed by a wail, made Gar wince and Raven’s head to snap to the side and growl.

-Whelp, gotta go, Tower out! -a ‘Tim!’ could be heard in the background just before the screen went dark.

-...

-...

-...

-...Anyone gonna fill me in?

-Drake eloped thrice over without informing us and has been living in sinful unworthiness with his three partners since last month or so, that we know about. Probably more.

-...Partners?

-You heard her. The speedster, clone and amazonian.

-...

-...

-Dickie, how t’fuck did ya allow’is to happen?!

-IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS ASKED FOR MY BLESSING, JASON!

-B, what the utter hell, ain’t ya supposed to keep track of this kinda shit?!?

-...

-Don’t bother, Father has been broken since learning of Drake’s mistake, and will go unresponsive at the most inconvenient times.

-...

-Fuck, I need a drink. Also, ’m going there.

-You heard Gar, Jay -pointed out Dick- we can’t just walk in there, and the Tower is legally his. We have to be smart about this, plan this through, and/

-Yeah, no, he said ‘no bats’-gesturing at his gun holsters, he started to walk to where his bike was parked-. RIP ya’ll, but I’m different. See ya.

-...

-...

-Tt. Useless. I’ll go back to training. Father, Grayson, should you two, as the plebeians say, ‘snap out of it’ and come with a good plan to get Drake back under our tutelage, I’ll be by the mats waiting.

-...

-...Don’t look at me like that. I raised him for a few months tops, but he’s your kid, not mine. Same with Tim, and Jason’s entirely your fault.

---.---

Meanwhile, back at the Tower, Kon let out a screeching ‘Tim!’ before diving out and catching the baby bird in his arms, halting his fall from the ceiling rafters where he had been climbing. Behind him, Cassie let out a relieved breath.

-God’s above, you almost gave me a heart attack. Okay, new ground rules, this two little feet stay on the ground.

Tim, as proudly as a three year old toddler could, frowned at him.

-Don’t patwonize me, Kon. And lemme go, I havta cacth Zac/ Zat/… Magic-boy.

Bart materialized by their side, arms looping below Tim’s armpints to carry him to the recently put back to its correct place couch. He dropped there, tiny bird in his lap, cooing all the while.

-Aww, you’re precious.

-I could still huwt you -pointed out the toddler, resigning himself at being manhandled.

-I know -replied Bart lovingly, softly stroking his turf of hair.

Somewhere on the side, Cissie clapped her hands, as if getting rid of the dust there.

-Okay, I putted out the fire, so now I’ll be heading home. This magical bullshit is way out of my ‘retired’ comfort zone.

Cassie landed by her side and gave her a quick hug, while Greta walked up to them- I understand, thanks for coming.

-Give us a call when this is solved, we can have a coffee while you complain about your husbands. And… child, now, I guess. God, it was already weird calling Tim your husband, but now he’s a baby and it's doubly weird. Figure this out quickly.

-Will do. See you guys later.

One by one, they all left, some offering their support (appreciated, but not needed, thank you, we’ll manage), some still laughing. In the end, only the Core Four, Gar, Raven and Miguel remained. Zachary probably was there somewhere (if he dared leave without helping them fix this, he was dead meat), but out of the enraged toddler’s sight, which. Wise.

Even if said little human being was pint sized and cow eyed, he was probably still the most dangerous person in the room, unarmed or not (you know what, scratch that; if time with Tim taught them anything, was that no bat was ever unarmed. Even bare handed, their own bodies were weapons).

-...So... What should we do while we wait for Zatara’s solution?

-I vote movie night. It’s not like we can keep on drinking, with a kid in the room/ Auch! Pointy elbows, Tim!

Kon swooped in, picking Tim from Bart’s not invulnerable lap and cuddling to him on the couch by the speedster’s side. Tim knew better than to hit the Boy of Steel without proper equipment, so he let himself fall back against the broad chest. Cassie, talking to the older members of the team on the side, smiled softly at them before returning to her conversation.

As mad as his current situation made him, Tim couldn’t bring himself to pout too much. It had been a fun night, all things considered.

-----.-----

[shhhhyoursister]

75 thank you

75- “I want you to fight for me!” i got some sudden inspiration to write an angsty fic so im combining this with an ask that just said “ angsty davenzi fic?? :))) “ so yes!!! here you go!!! some angst!!!! i think i took this in a slightly different direction than expected so i hope thats okay!!!!! (tw: homophobia, transphobia, homophobic slur, discussion of discrimination)

It was somewhere between early and late on a Saturday night, and the boys had decided to go out to a bar to drink instead of sitting on Matteo’s couch like usual. They had found a booth that could fit them all (with Matteo and David squished together, and Matteo squished into Jonas), had each taken a shot or two, and then decided that sitting was too boring and went to find a pool table. 

They had been taking turns getting the drinks after the first initial shots, and the boys were all drunk enough that they were less playing pool and more just just smacking the balls around with the cues and laughing. David was grinning widely as Abdi knocked a ball into the pocket closest to him, and he smiled even wider when he felt Matteo drape himself over David’s back, his arm wrapping around David’s shoulder. David turned his head and kissed whatever part of Matteo was closest, and he felt Matteo smile into his shoulder blade. 

“I think it’s my turn to get the drinks,” Matteo mumbled into his shirt, “do you want to come with me?”

And it was tempting, with the way that Matteo’s hand was clenching into his shirt and his hair was tickling David’s neck, but Abdi handed David the pool cue with a challenge on his face, and who was he to turn down a challenge?

“How about the next one?” he said, turning his head so he could kiss Matteo’s head, and then he smirked into his hair and whispered, “or how about we get out of here soon? You look too good for me to not do something about it.”

He laughed when Matteo bit his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his cheek, whispering, “One more round then back to my place? Everyone else is out.”

“Sounds good, baby,” David reached up so he could squeeze Matteo’s hand, and then adjusted his grip on the cue when Abdi loudly and obnoxiously cleared his throat, “now let me beat these idiots’ assses.”

“We’re barely even playing, dude!” Carlos yelled from across the table, and Matteo just rolled his eyes and kissed David on the cheek again before going to get the drinks. David focused and set up the cue, and somehow managed to get three balls into pockets with one hit. Jonas screamed and high fived him, and declared the game over as nobody would be able to beat that move. Carlos and Abdi seemed to be too drunk to really care, and they all decided to go back to their booth. 

David realized that somebody should let Matteo know that they were moving, and realized that if he took on that responsibility, he’d get to see his boyfriend even quicker. He looked over to where Matteo was standing, and took a minute and let himself just stare.

It was a pretty casual night so he wasn’t dressed too fancy, but the simple sweatshirt and slightly tighter than normal jeans were enough for David, and he started thinking about how they had the whole flat to themselves, and the endless possibilities that came with that scenario. He was getting a little distracted, and the next time he refocused his eyes he noticed some tall, blond guy standing next to Matteo, facing him and chatting in a way that was obviously intended to be more than friendly.

And David got it, he really did. While Matteo himself never understood, and almost never really picked up on it, David could see why people would hit on his boyfriend; his ruffled, dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and pink lips were eye-catching, and his small, sweet smile once he got started talking was to die for. David may have been a little bit biased, but he really got it.

Which was why his initial reaction was to just stand there and watch for a minute. He knew that he had nothing to worry about, so there was no harm in watching his boyfriend blush a little and mess with the hair hanging in front of his face. It was only when the guy took a step closer and the smile dropped from Matteo’s face that David tilted his head to the side, and started making his way over. 

He walked up to the bar with his arm already outstretched, and it wrapped tight around Matteo’s waist when he got to him. He turned to the guy who was standing much too close to his boyfriend and said, “Everything okay over here?”

The guy smiled tightly at him and David smiled tightly back, squeezing when, with too much familiarity the guy turned to Matteo and asked, “Who’s this?”

“I’m his boyfriend.” David said through his teeth, and the asshole raised his eyebrows. David watched his gaze flick down to his wrist, where there was a rubber bracelet with the trans colors that someone from his school had been handing out. He had meant to take if off before going out, and was kicking himself for his forgetfulness. He could tell from the sudden smirk on the blond’s face that he caught on quickly, too.

“Boyfriend? Yeah, okay.”

David tensed at the humor in the blond guy’s voice, and was suddenly hyper aware of how the interaction was going to go. Matteo hadn’t quite caught on, and was just staring between the two looking worried. David leaned back a little, pulling Matteo with him, but stood his ground.

“I think it’s time to go back to the boys, hm?” David said, and tilted his head towards Matteo, his eyes not leaving the blond man’s. He tightened his grip on Matteo when the guy scoffed.

“Oh, so you’re really just another faggot settling for monogamy? How boring.”

Matteo gasped a little at the word, and David immediately saw red. He knew that if Matteo wasn’t there and he was the slightest bit drunker he would’ve fucking decked the guy, but Matteo grabbed his arm and gripped it tight, his nails digging in a little.

“Okay, we’re going to walk away now. Have a great night, asshole.” And maybe David was testing it a little but he pulled Matteo away quickly, pushed him in front so if the guy came after them he’d reach David first. David turned to check but the guy didn’t move from his spot against the bar, except to raise a hand to cup around his mouth and shift his gaze to Matteo.

“Good luck with your freak boyfriend who doesn’t even have a dick to fuck you with!”

Matteo stopped and turned, and there was a look on his face that David had never seen before. He looked like he was a second away from either breaking down or fighting, but he was trying his hardest to stay calm. Matteo was staring straight over his shoulder and David could see him take a breath before smirking the tiniest bit and yelling back, “He’s got plenty, and he uses them better than you would!”

David didn’t know how to react to that, had checked out of the situation besides trying to keep them safe, so he just grabbed Matteo’s shoulder and gently pushed him in the direction of the booth with their stuff. David looked over his shoulder to make sure that there was no angry blond guy with a raised fist behind him, and Matteo handed him his jacket and he took it and put it on. He noticed Matteo talking to Jonas but couldn’t hear what he was saying over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, but then Matteo put a hand on his back and nudged him towards the door. 

He didn’t notice until he was outside that his right hand was in a fist so tight that his knuckles were white, and when he stretched his fingers out there were marks on his palm from his nails. He knew that he was still running too hot, so he took in a few deep breaths before turning to Matteo. He had been so focused on not flipping out that he didn’t think to check on his boyfriend, who was standing silently at David’s side.

“Well, that fucking sucked,” he said mostly to himself, and let out a long breath as he turned to face Matteo to ask, “are you okay?”

Matteo was staring at the ground, clenching and unclenching his fists and breathing a little hard. David tilted his head to the side and took a couple of steps towards him, and Matteo’s head lifted. David almost broke when he saw a few tears on Matteo’s cheeks, and he stepped forward to place his hands on Matteo’s face and wipe them away with his thumbs. 

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” he said calmly as Matteo sniffled, all of his anger dissipating, “we got out, we’re safe, and we can just go home and pretend that never happened.”

“No we can’t,” Matteo huffed out, wiping a hand across his wet eyes and taking a step back, out of David’s space, “it happened. I don’t want to just ignore it.”

“What do you want to do then? We can go home and talk about it, if that’s what you want?” David took a step back too, and watched Matteo’s arms swing up to curl around himself. David bit his lip to keep from making a noise at their lack of contact, but he figured Matteo needed to not be touched in that moment. 

Matteo sucked in some air and nodded, and grabbed David’s hand tight in his own before leading him in the direction of his flat. They were quiet as they walked, as anytime he went to say something Matteo would tense up even more, so he stopped trying after a bit. David couldn’t stop his eyes from constantly drifting to Matteo, though, and hated how upset his boyfriend looked. He knew it was valid, and knew that if he himself wasn’t filled with so much anger over everything, he’d probably be just as sad. 

As they walked they both sobered up, too, so when they reached the flat Matteo immediately began rolling a joint, and David didn’t say anything. He could tell by the tremble in Matteo’s hands that he probably needed it to calm himself down, and while he knew it wasn’t a healthy way to cope, he wasn’t going to try to have that conversation right after everything that had happened. 

Matteo sat on his bed and took a few hits, barely moving the joint from his mouth. David sat next to him and took the joint when Matteo brought it up to his lips a fourth time, and took a couple of hits himself. It wasn’t something he did as often as Matteo, especially not during times of high stress, but he felt like he needed to do something with his hands, and smoking had the added benefit of causing the physical tension to drain from his body. Matteo took the joint from his lips before he had even started his third hit, and he didn’t argue. 

He kept looking at Matteo but his face was offering no insight to what he was feeling. The only tells were that his shoulders were tense, his jaw was set, and the fingers on the hand not holding the joint were slowly scratching lines up his arm. As gently as he could, David grabbed that hand and held it in his own, and Matteo gripped it tight before putting the joint out and turning to face David, his legs crossed. David mirrored his position, and watched quietly as Matteo played with his fingers.

“I…” Matteo started suddenly, but then stopped and took a breath before softly saying, “I really didn’t like that.”

“I know, baby, that was really fucking awful.”

“I can’t believe someone would say something like that. He was fucking flirting with me too, why did he think that was okay?”

“I doubt he thought it was okay, babe, I think he realized you weren’t going to go home with him and it made him mad.”

“So he calls me a slur? Like what the fuck?” Matteo dropped his head into his hands and rubbed them roughly over his eyes. David just sat quiet, knowing that Matteo needed to process everything as he was talking.

“And he’s gay too! Or at least he’s not straight. Why would he-- I just don’t fucking get it.” David watched Matteo’s hands curl into fists again, and he grabbed them when he noticed how tightly Matteo was squeezing them. He held them in his own as Matteo shook his head, staring down at their hands and sniffling again. 

“I don’t either.”

“And then!” Matteo sat up more and his eyes widened a little, “and then of course he had to say some shit to you. That was… I don’t know if I’ve ever felt angrier. Like I could handle him saying shit about me, I didn’t like it but I could handle it. But fuck, it took all I had not to fucking punch him.”

David couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little as he asked, “I thought you were against violence?”

Matteo looked at him like he was stupid and said, “It’s different. It’s you. I’ve never… felt as much about anyone as I do about you. And the idea of someone saying that kind of shit to you…” Matteo cut himself off and shook his head. 

“Damn, where have you been the past five or six years?” David tried to joke, but the sad tone in his voice made it fall flat. Matteo made a noise and pulled one of David’s hands up to his face so he could kiss the back of it, and then all of his knuckles. David smiled again and blushed a little, and Matteo set his hand back down with a sigh.

“I wasn’t there, but I am now. And I’ll punch anyone for you David, I mean it.”

“I don’t really think I want you doing that, baby, you might break your hand.”

Matteo let go of one of David’s hands so he could punch him in the arm, and David laughed and grabbed his hand back quick.

“What you said to him was pretty funny, though.”

Matteo smiled and excitedly said, “You thought so? I didn’t really think, I just needed to say something. As if I’d fuck that gross asshole when I have you.” David smiled back and squeezed Matteo’s hand before continuing. 

“I get it though,” he said, staring into Matteo’s red-rimmed eyes, “when he said that to you I- fuck. I’ve never actually hit someone or gotten in a fight, but I would’ve done it if he said anything else.”

“You should’ve,” Matteo said, a bit of a smirk on his face, and David couldn’t help but smile back as Matteo continued, “I want you to fight for me! It would’ve been hot.”

“I don’t think watching me drunkenly fight some asshole would be particularly hot.”

“Agree to disagree?”

David laughed at the hand that Matteo stuck out, but he grabbed it and shook it anyway, before lacing their fingers together again. 

“I don’t want either of us to fight anyone. I just want to be able to exist, you know? I want it to be okay for me to be trans and dating a boy, and I want it to be okay for you to be gay and  dating a trans person. Fuck, I really just don’t get why people care so much when it isn’t any of their fucking business.” David felt himself getting a little worked up, and Matteo squeezed his hands.

Matteo shoved himself back on the bed so he could lie down against the pillows, and he pulled David onto his chest. David let out a deep sigh as he shoved his face into Matteo’s neck, taking in a long breath through his nose that was all Matteo, and he felt himself calm down again. 

“It is okay. And yeah, maybe we need to be more careful when we’re going out, but there are lots of places we’re safe and we don’t have to worry. We have the boys, we have your flat, we have my flat. We have my mom, you have your godmother and Laura.” One of Matteo’s hands started stroking through his hair, and he felt himself relax even more, melting on top of his boyfriend. 

“I don’t want to be careful. I want to take you everywhere, Matteo, and I don’t want to have to worry.”

“It’ll be like that one day, and we can travel the world just to show off how functional and in love we are. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah?” David shifted so he was leaning on his elbow, hovering above Matteo with a small smile on his face. Matteo smiled up at him and grabbed his face to pull him in for a short, sweet kiss. 

“Of course. We have to spread the gay agenda somehow.”

David giggled and the sound made Matteo smile, and David collapsed back against Matteo’s chest.

“So now that our night is officially ruined,” David said, and snorted when Matteo squeezed him, “and now that we’ve had a big important talk about discrimination, do you want to finish that joint? And maybe cuddle and watch something?

Matteo was already shifting to grab the joint and the lighter as he asked, “Can it be something gay?”

“Of course, baby,” David said with a chuckle, “it can always be something gay.”

[thrushpot]

william-hargroves here! 5 facts or headcannons for punch-drunk love 🥰

a/n: masterlist is in my bio if anyone wants to know what this comes from. I don’t even know how to do tiny headcanons I’m way too extra for them but I freaking LOVE you dude!!!!!! still working on the sequel for this too. anyone can send me a fic of mine they’d like more scenes from in my ask !

5 extra scenes to punch-drunk love:

1.) When The Breakfast Club first came out his senior year, Billy got dragged to the theatre by his little sister to go see it. The little redhead was beaming with excitement over her crush on Andrew Clark and the fact that it was a John Hughes masterpiece.

Her brother, however, complained the entire drive AND trailers about how pointless and typical teen movies are. They’re far from his preference. If there wasn’t a sex scene with a hot girl or gore and violence then he just wasn’t interested, plain and simple.

But as the movie progressed, the characters started to get to know eachother in their little circle, smoking pot and bonding over how much they hate themselves and their lives; he couldn’t deny he was thinking of all the good times you two shared in detention or Saturday school too. He totally pictured you being the Molly Ringwald to his Bender. Kissing and adoring you before graduating when the days spent in solitary were over. Maybe you’d even give him one of your shiny dainty earrings just like Molly did. Then afterwards he’d dramatically throw his fist in the air in triumph like Bender.

He keeps the tears that welled up away from Max so she couldn’t see by the end credits. He didn’t ever admit it but he went to see Breakfast Club at least another four times by himself.

2.) It was kinda but kinda not a secret that you were a sly troublemaker. Billy asked the day he got to talking with you why you were even in here, weirdly a lot like how inmates in prison talk about their sentences. You’d been coy when he asked, but he knew you were guilty at least of drawing dicks on the desks and sticking a thumbtack upside down on Kaminsky’s swivel chair before he sat down. He ended up taking a week off to heal his ass that had been stabbed. Billy totally gave you a high five after that one.

3.) Sometimes Kaminsky would take naps while “watching” over you both, and it was his fault for being foolish enough to make himself so vulnerable in front of two delinquents that loved creating chaos just for the sake of chaos. Billy would share contests with you on who got to fuck with him the most before he wakes up. You’d always win that trophy of course. You even got away with plugging his nose while he snored with his head back and feet propped up to the cluttered desk. Mastered the art of batting your eyes and looking all innocently pretty, getting away with much more than Billy ever could.

4.) Billy would blow spitballs at you with a laugh while you’d flip him off and try dodging his attacks. Sometimes you two would also take turns drawing each other pictures to waste time. He drew you his best Picasso-esque illustration of boobs and skulls. You’d giggle at the dirty joke before it was your turn. Playing hangman or patty cake in sheer boredom too. One time he even let you paint his nails black. Billy couldn’t lie and say it didn’t look badass, and he got better at it the more you taught him how to stay in the lines of his fingernails. He asked for your pink colored polish one time and didn’t give a fuck about any of the weird side-eyed looks he got from his dad or superficial friends. Because you said so yourself that it was hot if a guy was in touch with his feminine side and the courage it took to break the norms of being masculine, he didn’t stop.

5.) Billy always gets fucked up and does shit he regrets at every get together with Tommy’s place being their playground. Deliriously partying on a usual Friday and fiercely losing track of how many he’d had that night, he saw you sipping punch in the corner hiding from the rest of the crowd.

Billy approached you with what he thought to be smooth, irresistible seduction, which, to be frank without any drunk goggles on... was a sloppy slurring mess. His opening line was even “what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this” before hiccuping. You’d been stunned by him even noticing you outside of detention, raising a brow while taking small careful sips from the red solo cup.

He spouted more nonsense about you, the pranks you always pulled, and Molly Ringwald. Confused yet still entertained, you noticed his eyes at one point resting a second too long to be considered a blink and his speech slowing down even more. So you took him to the couch and tucked him in with a mountain of blankets smothering every inch of him. The drunk disaster that was hardly making sense anymore had whined when you wouldn’t cuddle with him. He just pouted to himself before snatching a nearby pillow and drooling on it in a drunken sleep. You didn’t know you’d ever hear him say the things he said while that fucked in the head with booze, but you were wrong when the phone rang one particular night a few months later.

—

super carried away and lost in this, but SEND MORE OF MY FICS YOU WANT EXTRA SCENES OF ! I WEIRDLY LOVED DOING THIS

[11thstreetgirl]

Sparks (Nasty x male reader)

Summary: The Hanoi boys show up at your usual haunt and make the place buzz. There’s unexpected sparks between you and Nasty. Flirty banter and things ensue...

Requested? Yesss by @thespacecowboyyy thank you!

AN: Sooooo this turned out weird. I’m not happy at all with it and Nasty feels very out of character and the dance scene is like the shittiest thing I’ve ever written, but this was so fun to write! It’s been years since I got a text out of my head this easily! So thank you! Also this turned out longer than I planned so I decided to post it in two parts if you guys like it. More notes at the end. To be continued... ps I suck at titles, please bear with me

The music was loud, so loud I almost didn’t hear myself think. Not that I was thinking straight anyways, beer always made me feel funny. On a second thought, I didn’t know if coming here just to check out some guys counted as thinking straight, beer or not. I snorted at my own joke as I made my way towards the bar. I could feel the looks on my back, there was something in the air tonight, something that this place usually didn’t have. I was actually getting interested in my surroundings. I snorted again to myself. Oh wow, this shabby joint really was rubbing on me.

I ordered another beer. Mark was behind the bar as usual and padded my shoulder as he walked past. His hands were full with work, the place was packed. I sat at the end of the bar and sipped the cold drink. So, what was it about today that had the place buzzing? I scanned the dancefloor and some of the booths but didn’t see anything too out of the ordinary. People dancing, people drinking, people making out, all of the underground queer heroes coming together.

- Hey Mark! How come this place is suddenly so popular? I chaffed at the old bartender. He rolled his eyes at me and leaned on the bar.

- Dunno. Could be the band that played down the road tonight. Heard they sold out the place. They popped up here with such an entourage it would’ve put the queen herself to shame. I’ve seen them around here before too.

- Where are they?

The older man pointed to a dark corner. There was so much people it was hard to see, but there clearly was something going on. Young guys and girls swarming and seeking attention from whoever were sat in the middle.

And then the crowd shifted and I saw them. Five guys, or at least I thought they were guys, sat in a booth that was surrounded with people. They were clearly life of the party, downing drinks, laughing, flirting and keeping court. Because that was definitely what they were doing. All of the people around seemed to hold them to a high status. They had a dangerous haze around them, and it pulled me like a moth to a flame. Finally something interesting was going on in this god forbidden place.

I was pretty sure I guessed which one was the lead singer. Huge blond mane framed his face, he sparkled in the dim lights with every movement and he looked like he was about to start climbing on the walls. He was very different from the rest. They all had dark hair and somewhat mysterious feel to them. At first i couldn’t tell them apart, then i started to notice differences. The one in striped jacket seemed to be having a genuinely good time, he was laughing a lot and drinking even more. He talked to everyone around him and everyone wanted to talk to him. Next to him sat a skinny young-looking guy with hair so wild I had no idea how he saw where he was going. He had a goofy, shy smile and talked to one person at a time. Then there was the artistic guy. I could almost hear all of his rings and bracelets tinkle together as he gestured wildly when he spoke. I doubted he even cared if anyone was actually listening as he partially hid under his hat. The last guy had a different feel to him, I could tell even from this far. He was more calm but had a dangerous charm. Like someone I definitely wanted to get to know but most definitely shouldn’t. He was handsome, too. Like, really really handsome. Stupid hot to be honest. Not that all of them weren’t ridiculously good-looking but he had something that made my insides twist. He too hid under his black hair and was downing beers in a supernatural rate. I’d seen my fare share of quick drinkers here but these guys were something else. The guy was having a conversation with someone, he was resting his arm on the back of the couch and had his body partially turned towards me. He seemed to be like at home in the situation.

Suddenly he turned and looked me straight in the eyes. I felt my stomach tighten. He’d probably felt my stare on him. My heart skipped a beat as I awkwardly looked around and back at him just to see he was still looking at me. A grin spread on his face and it took all of my will power not to drop my goddamn jaw on the floor. He was gorgeous and I wanted to jump him right here.

- Close that piehole of yours comrade or you’ll be eating flies for dinner. Or some of these pervs will stick their dick in. I know they’re good looking but get your shit together man.

Oh shit. I could hear the laughter in Mark’s words but he was right. Staring wouldn’t get me anywhere. Getting this starstruck wasn’t like me at all, but that kind of guys showing up here wasn’t ordinary either.

- Ha ha. I need to be a lot more drunk for my next stunt so pour me a vodka will ya.

It didn’t take long for the alcohol to kick in. Just enough for me to loosen up a bit. I usually didn’t dance, like at all, ever, but somehow I felt this was the way to go tonight. At first it felt awkward as hell, to be shaking my ass all over, but then I got the hang of it.

The music was loud and I felt intoxicated. Whether it was the booze or the looks I got I didn’t know. I didn’t get a second of peace as there was constantly someone trying to grind on me or hold my attention. I was having fun and I was damn sure I didn’t want any of these people with me. Every now and then I took a glimpse of the guys sitting in the corner, more specifically of the stupid hot one. The look of him just sitting there, all nonchalant and rockstar, made heat rise to my cheeks. I wanted to show off and hell it felt good to know that I looked good. All the attention was doing miracles on me and I got lost in the beat and the thought of him.

- Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it’s working.

The low voice startled me. It took a few seconds for me to get a hold of reality. As I turned around I saw the gorgeous man from the band standing dangerously close to me. His straightforward approach made me forget how to speak for a moment. It should have not been hot in any way and I probably should’ve been running in the opposite direction right now, but I couldn’t help the shiver going down my spine.

- And you think that’s a good pick-up line? Straight to the point? I finally got out of my mouth.

- Dunno. Is it working?

- Have a guess, cowboy.

I had no idea where this conversation was going, but the man in front of me clearly did. He stared me down with a smirk on his face. He was so sure of himself in such a lowkey way that made everyone else seem either like assholes or iffy.

- Well I did see you staring at me earlier and then sneaking glances at me while shaking your ass on the dancefloor so I’d say you’re the one that started.

I could feel his piercing eyes on me, but i didn’t see them clearly from behind his hair. His voice was soft but somehow stern and it made my guard slip down way faster than i liked. It took a lot more concentration to keep my cool.

- Oh, that. Yeah I saw you and your gang over there. They say you guys are a band.

- Uh-huh.

- Let me guess, you’re the drummer?

- Nope. Guitarist.

All the while he was standing way too close to me. I didn’t want to take a step back because it would have meant he’d gotten the upper hand. I wasn’t gonna give it to him so easily. He took a long, deliberate look down my body and apparently he was pleased with what he saw because the one-sided satisfied smile grew on his face. It made something move in my lower stomach and I shivered again. Nope, no way I was gonna get all hot and bothered right here right now just from a hot guy standing too close. Nope nope I wasn’t a kid anymore.

- So what is mister Guitarist’s name? I needed a distraction, fast. And another beer. Or four.

- Looks like my pick-up line is working after all. Name’s Nasty.

The man cocked his head to one side and clearly waited for a reaction to such a name. I wasn’t gonna give him one. We were still standing awkwardly on the dancefloor. We definitely needed to move.

- Hmh. Does a guitarist called Nasty want a beer?

Finally he smiled properly. It was a lot sweeter than I expected and he looked absolutely beautiful. My jaw must’ve dropped because he chuckled.

- Took the words out of my mouth.

Damn it, I needed to keep my head clear. He was wrapping me around his finger as easily as he probably made playing guitar look. The thought of him with a six-string made my knees unexpectedly weak. Not good.

I felt him follow me tightly through the mass as I navigated towards the bar. I felt nervous, I suddenly felt drunk, I felt stupid and oh so turned on. Still. Not. Good.

There was just enough room for us to squeeze through. Luckily Mark saw me and handed us our beers in no time. The Nasty dude definitely was a big deal here tonight as he constantly got pats on his back, pretty open flirting and even some straight-up invitations to fuck one’s last brain cells out in the alley. Nasty had a mischievous smile on his face as he politely turned down person after person, all the while making sure I saw all of it. Gee, I couldn’t believe this guy.

I sat on a stool and took a huge swing out of my glass. Nasty didn’t take a seat, just moved closer to me again and leaned his elbows on the bar. I reeeaaally wanted to just watch him stand there, all nonchalant and disturbingly hot. As soon as the people passed, the smile wiped off his face. It had suited him, but the serious look suited him even more. It made him look more dangerous, more in his little role. Although i wasn’t sure it was a role anymore. How come it was suddenly so warm in here? In the corner of my eye i could see a few creeps eyeing us and whispering to each other.

I downed the rest of my drink in one go. Fuck me sideways till Sunday, I didn’t see a good ending for this evening no matter what happened. Either I’d leave now and spend the rest of my night, and probably the rest of my life, jacking off to the thought of this man. Or I’d drag him home, have a marvelous time with him and then what? Probably still the same outcome. Talk about fucking till Sunday… it was already Saturday night. Damn.

But my God was he gorgeous. His eyes stayed hidden behind his hair as he observed the people around us without a trace of emotion on his face. Definitely the cool guy in the band. His jawline was as sharp as they come and cheekbones high. I traced his neck with my eyes and landed on his collarbones. He had a simple tank top on and a light blue jacket over it. It was a bit too big and a little worn out, but it just added to his i-don’t-care based charm. His pants matched the jacket and he had tucked one thumb under the waist. His hands were large and strong-looking in the very way that made a guitarist’s hands such a turn on. I was probably eye-fucking the sweet Jesus out his tall, slim figure by now.

I thought i was being discreet drooling over him, but clearly he had noticed because he chuckled. A low, warm sound.

- Like what you see?

Shit. I couldn’t get my thoughts back together in the fragment of a second I had to answer, so I went for the least horny thing that crossed my mind.

- I’ve seen better, plus your rockstar attitude isn’t gonna get you anywhere.

Great. Now I sounded like an asshole. An asshole that’s been lusting over the guy half the evening. Wonderful.

- So you trying to play tough huh? Wont work on me. I can see right through you. He leaned closer and his lips almost touched my ear as he whispered:

- I’m just like that too. He squeezed my thigh so gently it would’ve almost been polite if it wasn’t for the fact that he was very much in my personal space and I could feel his breath on my skin. He straightened back up and smiled. That’s when I saw it too. He looked almost nervous and a lot more child-like than before. Then his mojo was back with full force. He hid behind his bangs again.

- Wanna go get some fresh air?

We climbed up the stairs back to street level. After the deafening music even this part of London felt quiet. We stood there for a moment, Nasty light up a cigarette.

- So what kind of name is Nasty anyway? I asked just to say something. And why would someone so gorgeous call himself Nasty, a small voice at the back of my head wondered.

He laughed a little.

- It’s not a real name silly. Just a stage name.

- Yeah I got that. But why Nasty of all things?

He was quiet for a while, then a smirk spread on his face.

- I’m just so so nasty. Want some proof? His low voice rumbled, I bet it was on purpose. I felt a shiver roll down my spine nonetheless. My lonely night of beer and man-watching was going south fast. I should’ve known better than to play along his game, but I was getting more and more curious about this Nasty-persona. I wanted to know what was real and what was created for his little rock band. I kept stealing glaces at him. He looked like the epitome of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll with his overgrown jet black hair. A creature of the night no doubt.

He put out his cigarette and i quickly turned my eyes the other way. No way in hell I was going to get caught staring at him twice tonight.

He stood quietly for a while. This timeIi felt his gaze roaming on my body. Usually I would’ve been more self-conscious but this was just gasoline to the flames. I wanted badly to see how he looked with fire in his eyes, so I turned my head back to his direction. He was just standing there and staring at me.

With a one-sided grin and a wicked look that bore it’s was straight down to my crotch he leaned closer and planted a forceful kiss on my lips. Jesus. My mind went blank and I skipped a breath. Jesus fuck.

- See? Nasty.

He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when I covered it with mine. He made a noise of  surprise. No way I was going to let him get control over me like that. In an instant he was kissing me back with such fire it made my knees dip. He tasted like cigarettes and beer and bad decisions, but honestly? I was too far gone to care. All the tension between us blew up into that blistering kiss. His hands took a strong grip from my sides and he pulled me closer. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I grabbed his ass and unashamedly grinded against him. A small, unexpected moan escaped this throat and I swallowed it. He definitely wanted me as much as I wanted him.

- Excuse me! An annoyed voice broke us apart. A bouncer was staring at us with a look of warning, and as soon as my head somewhat stopped spinning I realised we’d better find a more private place before we entirely devoured each other. Nasty realised the same thing seconds later.

- Come on. Let’s go, he panted and all I could do was nod.

After what felt like an eternity keeping my hands to myself in the taxi we arrived to a house in Tootin Bec. Nasty was pretty swift in his movements for someone who was so turned on. Because he was very visibly turned on. My mind on the other hand wasn’t co-operating one bit. I just stood there and drooled as he opened the door.

- Good, the others aren’t home yet. I can actually make you make some noise! I blushed at the thought and I had no doubt he was gonna get some sweet sounds out of me. Mind is strong flesh is weak and so on. As if to prove my line of thought I felt my cock twitch in my pants at the sight of Nasty taking off his jacket. So much about mind being strong…

I tried to distract myself just so I wouldn’t jump him right then and there. I made a note of how messy the house was. Clothes, empty bottles, papers and guitar equipment lying around everywhere. It was pretty clear that there was five guys living here. Such a rock n’ roll cliche. Nasty grabbed a half empty liquor bottle from the nearest shelf and took a swing. He then offered the bottle to me and I downed a good gulp too. He chuckled as he put the bottle down. With a crooked smile he took a long good look at me again and stepped close to me.

- I think it is pretty clear I want to have sex with you. I just want to make sure that you want it too, he said, his voice rough from lust and alcohol. He stared at me with his beautiful, mysterious eyes. I couldn’t get him right in my head, he was such a weird creature. A weird, ridiculously hot creature who’s words got my head spinning. Sweet too.

- Trust me, I really really want to fuck your brain out right now, I smirked and got the exact reaction I wanted as Nasty shivered. He kissed me fast, bit my lip and grabbed my wrist. Without a word he pulled me after him up the stairs. I adored his ass with every movement as he walked in front of me and almost asked if we could to the stairs again just for it. Instead I opted for the less pervy thing that my no-good brain decided to push out.

- You really aren’t a man of many words huh?

- Nope. More a man of action, Nasty said and opened a door to a small room.

- Ohhh shy are we? I teased.

- Mmhm, Nasty hummed back matter-of-factly. It was weird, the whole man was weird, one huge contradiction. I loved it. It was nicer this way, neither of us had our roles on anymore.

The room only had a bed, a small closet with clothes falling out of it and a few guitars. Nasty sat on the bed and I awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

- Now let’s get those clothes off, he squinted playfully at me. I was dumbfounded.

- What, like now? Here?

- Yes, well sex kinda requires us to take off our pants and stuff. Off they go. His face was serious but I could hear the laughter in his voice.

- You want me to strip for you? I couldn’t believe this man. Oh he had nerve okay. He nodded as a smile spread on his face. I just stood there like an idiot, my cock painfully hard in my pants, and stared at him. I had no idea if he was serious.

- Oh come on. Let me help you then.

AN: So this is the first part. The second part is still work in progress and it’s basically just shameless porn lol. I didn’t want to add it to this one in case someone doesn’t like that kind of stuff. So please please tell me what you think of this and if you guys wanna read the nasty part ;) pun intended. I’m awful I know

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, an anonymous reader donated $30, and requested ‘wincest + belly bulge kink ’. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

The third time they pass through the town, Sam feels it coming on slow. Something tugs in his belly, like a little flinch of memory, as they pass the standard faded Welcome To--! sign. Been a while and he doesn’t know why they used this road, why Dean didn’t make a huge curving detour around it like they have in times past. Dean makes a little, cut-off noise, when they’ve passed inside city limits, but when Sam looks across the bench seat Dean’s jaw’s all squared-off like he’s ready for an argument, and he doesn’t really feel like giving him one. It’s been a good day. Who knows; maybe it’ll get better, for once, instead of worse.

There’s a motel on the edge of town that they stayed in, before. Dean passes it and they end up at a bar. Kind of scuzzy but that makes it feel homey. Little fleet of motorcycles parked out front, gleaming in the setting sun, and Dean whistles at one. “Classic,” he says, admiring, and Sam shakes his head but smiles, too, because Dean’s smiling. Whatever’s coming--well, he’s not that worried about it. They can handle it. They can handle just about anything, together.

Bar’s warm, dim, crowded. Dean leads the way to an empty high-top, hitches his ass up on the seat. His face squinches, in an odd way, but then there’s a waitress smiling at him, sweet, and giving Sam an open up-and-down. She brings their beers fast and hugs her tray up to her stomach in a way that pushes her tits high, round and tan peeking out of her tank top. “Anything else?” she says, over-the-top, and Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam when she’s sent on her way.

“What, are you putting off pheromones?” Dean says, under the music. His pupils are a little wide. Sam licks his lips, looking at him, and Dean’s eyes drop immediately to follow the movement, and Sam wonders. He might be. It’s not as--strange, this time around.

First time they were here it was ridiculous--both of them transforming, Dean turning into a tiny high-pitched twink and Sam a caveman--and the second it was just embarrassing, with Sam going what Dean insisted on calling a ‘boohoo pathetic emo-boy.’ Not a bad description, but not flattering. Sam didn’t think they’d ever be back, thought they’d agreed even if silently that this was just dumb, but here they are. Dean watches his mouth for another few seconds and then seems to notice that Sam’s watching him right back, and he looks away, up to the bar televisions. His ears are already pink. Sam drinks his beer, wondering.

Different motel, on the other side of town. They get a room around midnight from the night clerk and they’re both a little loose, though of course not drunk. They have to actually work for that, these days. Sam still feels--mostly the same, his personality and body not shifting, at least as far as he can tell. He’s just relaxed, and kind of horny from watching Dean get clearly turned on even if he doesn’t know why, and when Dean shuts the door behind them both and they drop their bags, Dean says, “Okay, so,” but before he can continue Sam catches his wrist and reels him in, and kisses him.

Soft. Sweet, nearly, which isn’t what Sam usually associates with five beers and a dinner of wings and fries. Dean makes a soft hurt sound against his mouth and clutches at him, curving up into the kiss, letting Sam lick as deep as he likes. “Mm,” is the sound he makes, when Sam pulls back, and he drags his hands down Sam’s chest, slow, like he’s savoring it.

“Dean, you know where we are,” Sam says. Is his voice deeper? It sometimes is, when he’s turned on, and god, he really is. Dean nods, tipping his head so it’s half-tucked under Sam’s chin, his hands going to Sam’s belt to get it open. “Dude. What are you thinking? You want to be another--what, trope?”

“A what?” Dean says, and Sam would explain but Dean’s got a hand on his dick, all of a sudden, slipping in under the waistband of his jeans, and Sam clutches the back of Dean’s head and sighs, feeling it. Familiar, good. Sweet, the adjective coming to mind again, but that’s not really all that out of the ordinary either, if he lets himself go there. Dean’s his brother, but that word’s never really been sufficient--not enough to explain what they are, together. Dean kisses Sam’s collarbone, jerks him slow, and Sam presses his hips into it, feeling--feeling--

He grunts, surprised. Dean’s breathing heavy, against his chest, and Sam pulls him away a little, looking down between them. Dean hasn’t pulled him out of his jeans and so his dick’s lengthening in an awkward trapped curve under the denim, and Sam feels that usual tight urgency, his balls wanting him to push into something, to fuck, but it’s... bigger, somehow. More. He feels his gut tighten, warm, and his dick--it’s--

“Fuck,” Dean says, fervent, and he slides his hand down to follow the bulging line, pressing an almost grotesque shape down the inside of Sam’s right pantleg, bigger than it’s ever been. He squeezes, down by where the head’s finally stopped, and looks dazed. “God, it’s even bigger than I thought it’d be.”

Sam feels almost lightheaded for a second. He undoes the button, the zip, and Dean takes a step back to give room--because when Sam shoves at his jeans, gets them to his knees, his dick flops out like--like a fucking monster, thicker and darker and almost grotesque. It’s standing out from his body, eager and ready. Horse-dick, Sam thinks, dry-mouthed, but when he looks at Dean he’s just greeted with Dean flushing rose-red, his lips wet and dark like he’s been biting at them. “Jesus, Sammy,” he says, sore and faint, and when Dean finally looks up at his face he’s nearly drunk-looking. He strips in record time, shoving off layers and boots until he’s naked in the lamplight, and he’s--paler, maybe, than usual, and Sam can see his freckles better than usual, but he’s still Sam’s brother, still recognizable, his dick still heavy against his thigh, his body still muscular where it needs to be and soft, where Sam loves it.

Dean reaches out almost tentative, his fingers tender when they skim over Sam’s dick. He grips Dean’s shoulder, pushes reflexively into it. He doesn’t know how big he is normally--Dean claims he measured once when Sam was sleeping and got seven inches soft, which may or may not be true--but he’s usually a shower, not a grower, so this is...

“What is this, a foot-long?” Dean says, rough-voiced. He grips and his hand goes around, but only barely. “Baker’s dozen?”

His face, and him pushing up against Sam. He drags his hand up to the big purple-dark head and Sam squeezes his eyes shut, his self-control fraying. He knows what Dean wants but there’s no way. “It won’t fit,” he says, trying to hold on. He can imagine, trying to shove in. He squeezes Dean’s shoulder, balls aching. “I don’t want to--I don’t know what story this is supposed to be, but I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Dean’s hand, on his jaw--breath--and he tips his head down in time to meet the kiss, Dean combing his fingers through Sam’s hair, calming him down. It’s good, the way Dean’s mouth is always good--practiced and familiar, knowing just the right amount of give-and-take--but then Dean peels Sam’s hand off his shoulder, taking control. He slides it down, along his back, and over his ass, and he sucks at Sam’s lower lip when he guides Sam lower, lower, until his fingers brush--metal?

He pulls back, startled. Dean blinks at him, eyes almost black. “Felt it go in when we came into town,” he says, and tugs Sam backwards until his legs hit the bed, and when he falls back and spreads his knees wide Sam can see it. A plug. Jesus, a plug, with a thick circular base pressing Dean open, and Sam goes to his knees, spreads Dean’s legs wider to look. Dean breathes shaky just from him looking, his erection twitching heavily against his hip, and Sam has to touch, gripping the plug, twisting. Dean makes a tight weird noise, his hips lifting, and he grabs Sam’s wrist. Not stopping him. “Fuck--Sammy. It’s been--stretching me out, all night, and I’m--feel, I’m so fuckin’ wet.”

Sam’s jaw’s been slack; his mouth’s dry. He gulps air and grips the plug, pulls, and watching the fat silver base of it bloom out of Dean’s asshole is--jesus, jesus, he didn’t--he didn’t know Dean could get that wide. He could fit his fist in there, he thinks, unbidden, and just for thinking it he ducks down and sucks in Dean’s dick, the familiar bitter-salt replaced with--sweet, fuck, he’s so sweet, and Sam goes down to the base and fucks the plug in and out, his fingertips gauging the fat slide of it, how it’s stretching Dean wide, getting him slack and ready.

Dean grips his head, thighs cringing up either side of Sam’s shoulders--groans, and whines, and says fervent Sammy, Sammy please, and it’s--not that different, not that strange, and Sam slurps off his dick with a wet gulping noise and lets it slap back against Dean’s belly, and Dean looks at him down the stretch of his body and says again, “Please, come on--just do it,” and Sam sits back on his heels and pulls the plug all the way out, gleaming, imagining--it sitting heavy up in Dean’s guts, all night, while they drank and watched the game, while random faceless women flirted with Sam, while they wanted him, and Dean knew--the whole time, he knew--and when the plug’s finally out Dean gushes, clear lube-slick wet pushing out of his asshole, dripping onto the bed, and Sam knows what he’s meant to do, how this story is supposed to go, and he grabs Dean and pushes him up further onto the bed, pushes his legs wide and kneels up high, and he pushes in without needing to ask, without pausing, because Dean’s--built, for him. Dean wants him. Dean needs him, deep, and Dean responds instantly, moaning wild and loud, one hand grabbing Sam’s arm and the other flashing down to the inches of his dick, holding the fat pole of it as it pushes deeper, deeper, spreading Dean even wider than the plug did.

“Fuck, you’re gonna bust me open,” Dean says, frail, and Sam moans and shoves forward, past any resistance, and Dean yelps as his hand gets knocked away, his whole body arching so that only his shoulders are left on the bed, his hips caught up in Sam’s grip, and--and--

“Holy shit,” Sam says, breathless. He’s throbbing, his balls pressed up against Dean’s ass. He pets Dean’s hips, soothing, but his attention is somewhere else. He pulls back a few inches, pushes back, and he’s--he’s not imagining it. “Dean,” he says, and he grabs one of Dean’s hands, rough, presses it against the low pit of Dean’s belly, just under his navel where Dean’s always had that softness, that plush skin that Sam’s bitten up, on wilder days. Dean’s hand fits smaller, under Sam’s, and he presses it flat and tight against the skin, and when he hauls his hips back and then shoves back in Dean feels it and his mouth falls wide, his hips flattening against Sam’s. “You feel?” Sam says, fuck-stupid, and Dean nods just as stupid back, feeling the girthy fat head of Sam’s monstrous dick pushing up inside him, insanely deep, deep enough that it’s pressing Dean’s belly out like he’s a hundred-pound twink. Sam does it again just to watch Dean’s face flinch, their knuckles grinding together, and then he can’t hold back anymore and grips Dean’s ass and shoves in, shoves again, long deep in-and-out fucking like he almost never indulges in, and Dean cries out and squirms and grips at him, his insides splitting wide around Sam’s colossal length, but Sam--he knows it’s okay, knows that Dean’s open and wet and hungry for him. Means he has permission, down to the bones, and he kneels up and fucks up into Dean’s guts and makes Dean wail, makes him cry, makes his dick spit up against his tummy where Sam’s shoving him full.

Dean comes first, his legs tightening around Sam’s hips and his hands pushing against the headboard, shoving him down deeper onto Sam’s cock, and he’s so wet it gushes out of him at both ends, his dick creaming up his belly and his ass spasming tight enough around Sam’s girth that the wet slides down, drips off Sam’s balls onto the mattress. He sobs for air, grips at the pillow, and Sam leans down and hooks his arm under Dean’s hips and hitches him boneless into just the right place for Sam to cram in deeper, deeper, and Dean moans and shakes and lets him, lets him, his body pummeled into a soft sweet new thing, something that he can bury his face into and push up inside and own, deep enough that he’ll never leave.

Almost a surprise, when he finally comes. His hips flinch, against Dean’s sore open ass, and he unloads for what feels like a full minute, his balls clutching up and pouring themselves out, Dean moaning like he can feel it. Sam presses down hard against his belly, where he’s bumping the shape of himself out of Dean’s skin, and he can almost feel the twitch. His dick, doing everything it can.

It’s a slow, heavy slide out. He watches, doesn’t pretend otherwise. The fat dark girth of him, slicking out. The way Dean’s rim is all creamed up, stretched so wide it’s totally smooth. When his head finally pops free Dean gapes a little, a punched-out dark circle, and when Sam pumps Dean’s limp wet dick Dean gasps, and his asshole spasms, trying to tighten but hardly able to. A gush, then--cream, Sam’s jizz spilling free, and Sam doesn’t think before he dips down, licks up the spill. Dean moans harder, says breathless up somewhere north Sam, what-- but Sam doesn’t listen, just licks soft and as gentle as he can, slurping up the mess, the taste of himself mixed with Dean’s unnatural creamy sweet.

He holds it in his mouth, thick. He kisses Dean’s tired nuts, and his soft shaft, and licks up a thick gobby pool of Dean’s own come that’s caught in his navel. Dean’s skin shudders, all over. Sam crawls up, kissing his sternum, and his nipple, and when he props himself up so they’re level Dean’s--a wreck. Sweaty, fucked-out. Sam smiles at him, close-lipped, and then dips in and kisses him wide, and when their shared load pours into Dean’s mouth he shudders, again, his fingers curling helplessly against Sam’s stomach.

Sam looks at him, when he’s done. His dick’s still fat, mostly hard, dragging against Dean’s small soft shaft. “You knew,” he says, and watches Dean open drugged-looking dark eyes. “Dean. As soon as we came into town.”

Dean bites his lip. His thighs splay weak around Sam’s hips, his whole body open. “I sent a girl a message,” he says, finally. His voice has gone rough, low. “With an idea. I didn’t know if it’d--it might not have worked.”

A little red, in his cheeks. Sam tilts his head, something a little weird curling under his gut. “You want more?” he says. They have--when they’re not here, in this bizarre town--good sex, he thinks. Fun sex. He didn’t realize--

Dean shakes his head, though, and his knees come up enough to squeeze Sam. “Just a fantasy,” he says, firm, and Sam believes him. He looks down between their bodies. “Crazy, right?”

Sam studies his face. He braces on one arm, and slides his other hand down, pressing deep and low against Dean’s belly. “I was right here,” he says, and Dean’s lashes flicker. He rocks his ridiculous dick against Dean’s, and then tilts his hips enough to slide past Dean’s balls, between his split-open cheeks, the fat head catching against where Dean’s still open. Wet. Dean blinks, looks up at him. Sam licks his lips, wondering. “Want me up there? All up inside, Dean. Like fucking a baby in there, making your belly all big.”

A flinch--Dean’s eyes opening, in real surprise. Sam’s hardening up fast, rubbing against Dean’s wet, and he dips in for a kiss. “Want me to?” Sam says, and Dean breathes hot in his face, and nods, and Sam rolls him over, gets his knees up underneath him. Sam presses four fingers into him, presses him wide, his fat dick nosing up into the gap. Dean groans, grasping at the bedcovers. “Gonna stretch you out,” Sam promises, and when he pushes inside he has Dean’s hand right in his, ready to batter his palm when he shoves out his belly from the inside. Sam doesn’t know whether this town is cursed or not, or why this happens always when they’re here, but he pushes in and makes Dean gasp, and thinks--well--maybe they won’t try to break the spell this time. Not until morning, at least.