Introducing.. 70s WEIRD KID MARTIN

FROSTED FLAKES pt.2

In the summer of ‘76,, Matt meets a walking social disaster. In simpler terms.. a girl. I know. Matt Sturniolo and girls aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. But maybe this one is an exception?

Matt Sturniolo wasn’t a guy people noticed. He was the one on the edge of every conversation, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding along but never speaking. He existed in the background, the human equivalent of white noise, there, but never quite there. And he was okay with that.

But for some reason, ever since that day at the grocery store, he kept noticing her.

At first, it was just a passing thought. A flash of curls and big brown eyes somewhere in the back of his mind. Then, it was something worse, a weird, nagging feeling, like he was waiting for something. Like maybe he’d run into her again.

Except summer stretched long and hazy, and she didn’t show up anywhere. Not at the record store when he went with Nick. Not at Nate’s house, where the air was thick with the scent of weed and cheap cologne. Not even at the parties Chris dragged him to, where everyone blended together into a blur of voices and smoke and music that wasn’t as good as people thought it was.

So, he forgot. Mostly.

But then school started.

And there she was.

At first, it was just a glimpse in the hallway, like a trick of the light. Then he saw her again, on the front steps, in the cafeteria, at the lockers, in the exact wrong places at the wrong times. And every time, it was like some cosmic joke, like fate was dangling something just out of reach.

He didn’t approach her, of course. Matt Sturniolo did not approach girls.

Chris would. Chris could walk up to any girl, any time, and just talk. Didn’t matter who, didn’t matter where, he had a way of slipping into conversations like he belonged there.

Matt? He was lucky if he could get a sentence out without sounding like an idiot.

So he didn’t talk to her. He just… saw her. More than he should’ve.

It was starting to feel like some kind of setup.

Then came the next morning.

Chris had to go in early for tutoring, something about making up for skipping too many classes last year, so Matt got dragged along for the ride. The school was barely awake yet, the halls stretching empty and hollow.

With nothing else to do, he went to the cafeteria, figuring he’d sit there until people started showing up.

And that’s when he saw her.

She was standing in the breakfast line, her hair a little wilder than usual. She grabbed a little plastic bowl of Frosted Flakes and a carton of milk, shaking the box like she was testing how much was inside.

Matt didn’t mean to stare.

But she must’ve felt it, because right then, she looked up, straight at him.

And smiled.

It wasn’t just a polite smile, either. It was real, bright, warm, like she knew something he didn’t.

Then, before he could even think about looking away, she turned and walked right toward him.

Matt swallowed hard, his hands instinctively tucking into his hoodie pockets as she dropped into the seat across from him, setting her tray down with a little clack.

Matt stiffened, pulse kicking up, every instinct screaming at him to look away, act normal, pretend you weren’t staring like a freak.

“Hey,” she said casually, ripping the plastic lid off her cereal. “You always sit here?”

Matt blinked. He hadn’t expected her to actually talk to him.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. My brother had tutoring.”

She tilted her head. “Huh. Didn’t know they did tutoring this early.” Then she scooped up some cereal, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him again. “You got a name, or should I just call you ‘guy who stares at me from across the room’?”

Matt felt heat creep up his neck. Great. She noticed.

“Sturniolo,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Matt,” he amended.

She nodded approvingly. “Better.” Then, after a beat, she slid the bowl of cereal toward him. “Hold this for a sec? Gotta grab a napkin.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him sitting there, staring down at a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes.

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face.

This girl was gonna be a problem.

Matt sat stiffly, staring down at the bowl of Frosted Flakes like it was some kind of test. The milk was already turning sugary and pale, the cereal floating lazily on top. He didn’t dare touch it.

Across the cafeteria, she was rifling through the napkin dispenser, curls bouncing with every movement. Like she wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she’d just sat down with him. Like this wasn’t weird at all.

Matt felt his throat tighten.

She didn’t even know who he was. She probably sat down because he looked alone, and people like her had a way of making things less awkward for the ones who didn’t fit in. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was he sitting here like his entire morning had just been thrown off course?

Before he could think too much about it, she was back, napkin in hand, sliding into her seat like she belonged there. She pulled the cereal back in front of her, barely sparing him a glance before she dug in again.

“Thanks, Matt.”

His stomach did something weird at the way she said his name. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they’d always been friends.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She grinned mid-bite, like she could hear the awkwardness in his voice.

“So, do you, like, not eat breakfast, or do you just enjoy staring at people while they eat?”

Matt frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t stare.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Mmm.”

“I don’t,” he insisted, but it came out weak, because, well… maybe he had been looking at her more than he should’ve.

She didn’t push it, just smirked like she knew something he didn’t. “Alright, not-staring-Matt, what’s your deal?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Like, what’s your thing?” she said, waving her spoon. “Everyone’s got something. You a football guy? A stoner? One of those weird band kids?”

Matt hesitated. He could’ve told her about movies, about the hours he spent watching and rewatching old foreign films no one else cared about. About the way music sounded different on vinyl, how he had a whole crate of records stacked in his room. But all of that felt… too personal.

So he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

She sighed dramatically. “God, you’re so cryptic.”

“I’m not cryptic,” he muttered.

“You totally are,” she said, shaking her head. “I bet you’re, like, the brooding type. Probably lean against lockers all mysterious, making girls wonder what your deal is.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me. Real mysterious.”

She laughed, and Matt didn’t realize how much he liked the sound of it until it was already out there, loud and full and unfiltered.

For a second, they just sat there, her eating, him sitting there, unsure of why he wasn’t getting up, why he wasn’t saying something stupid to ruin the moment.

Then—

“Hey, there you are.”

Matt’s shoulders tensed as he heard Chris’s voice.

He turned to see his brother strolling toward the table, looking like he owned the place, because Chris always looked like that. His grayish-purple shirt was half unbuttoned, his dark hair tousled in that effortless way that made girls trip over themselves.

And, of course, he noticed her immediately.

Chris slid into the seat next to Matt, grinning lazily at her. “Hey. Who’s your friend?”

Matt opened his mouth to say I don’t know, but before he could, she answered for him.

“Sage.” She stuck out a hand. “And you must be the brother?”

Chris took her hand like he was some kind of movie star, shooting her the most flirty smile, which Matt knew all too well. “of course.”

Matt groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

He could already tell, this was about to get so much worse.

@issysh3ll

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hi, i love ur lochlan fics!! specially the pinky promise one. also i'm so scared for the two episodes left 😔 no more twl sundays until next season. who do u think is gonna die in the last episode? i feel like it's gonna be an accident death like the others seasons finale. i hope lochlan n his bi twink ass survives n i hope chelsea too 🚬🚬

HIII THANK YOU ILY!! And tbh the 6th episode changed everything for me and I have a few candidates who might die at the end but I also think they’re gonna show more that happened the night with Lochlan and Saxon. I think Tanya is safe until the end of the show for sure. Honestly I’m thinking Rick. And I’m gonna throw in a wild card and say piper. But in all honesty I think Lochlan is safe, if Chelsea dies idk what ima do

LOCHLAN SMUT PLEASEEE everything im seeing is so fluffy but we all saw the way he kisses so um 👀

PINKY PROMISE

lochlan ratliff and reader smut

The boat sways gently beneath you, the ocean stretching endlessly into the dark. Everything feels too much, the soft hum of waves, the distant laughter below deck, the warmth of your skin against the cool night air. You’ve never done drugs before, and now you’re out of your mind, your senses cranked up to a hundred. You can feel everything. The way the wind grazes your arms, the rough texture of the boat’s carpet beneath you, the erratic thudding of your own heart.

Lochlan sits across from you, legs crossed, his fingertips trailing absentmindedly over the floor. His pupils are blown, his lips parted like he’s trying to catch his breath even though he hasn’t been running. You’re hugging your knees to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but you can’t. You’re both too aware, and it’s making you jittery.

It’s not like everyone else. They’d crashed a while ago, scattered below deck, passed out in a tangle of limbs and abandoned drinks. But you and Lochlan? You’re still here. Stuck in this hyper-aware, touch-starved limbo.

You try to distract yourself, rambling about the game earlier, how ridiculous it was, how terrifying it felt in the moment. Lochlan listens, a lazy smirk on his face, nodding along as you giggle.

“You practically made out with Saxon,” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.

He groans, rolling his eyes, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re bringing it up. “That was barely making out.”

You laugh harder than you should, breathless and lightheaded. It feels like you can’t stop. It’s like everything is funny right now.

Lochlan chuckles too, but then his laughter fades, his smile lingering but different now. A little tense. A little hesitant.

You’re still giggling to yourself when he finally speaks.

“Saxon kissed you.”

Your breath catches slightly.

“He was practically trying to eat you,” he adds, and his voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it. Something unreadable.

Your stomach twists.

“Yeah,” you mumble, pressing your cheek against your knee. “It was… weird.”

He watches you carefully.

You exhale, licking your lips. “Like, it was rough.” You frown slightly, trying to piece together the right words. “Like I had to force myself to like it.”

Lochlan’s fingers flex slightly on the carpet. His knee bounces once before stopping.

Then he says, “I could do a better job than that.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, before you burst into laughter. You’re convinced he’s joking.

But he doesn’t laugh.

He just looks at you, waiting.

Your smile falters slightly, your heart hammering against your ribs. You try to play it off, voice wobbly as you tease, “You don’t have any experience.”

He smirks a little. “I wouldn’t try to swallow you.”

That warmth in your stomach spreads, creeping up your neck. The boat sways gently, and suddenly, you feel weightless.

“Can I try?” he asks, voice softer this time.

You don’t say yes.

You don’t say no, either.

And he doesn’t know what that means, so he just leans in.

Your breath stutters, but you don’t move away.

At first, it’s just a peck, soft and fleeting. He pulls back, grinning like this is the funniest thing in the world, but you’re not laughing.

He notices.

This time when he leans back in, it’s different.

His lips press into yours again, slow and unsure but eager, and you kiss him back, tentatively at first. He exhales through his nose like he’s relieved, like he wasn’t sure if you’d kiss him back at all. His hands slide down your back, hesitating before settling on your hips.

It’s awkward and clumsy and neither of you care.

You rest your hands on his shoulders, unsure, barely touching, until he presses forward, his weight gently easing you onto the carpet. Your back meets the floor, and then he’s above you, hovering, breath shaky, eyes locked on yours.

The world around you fades, the ocean, the boat, the distant murmurs from below deck.

Just you. Just him.

His lips find yours again, and this time it’s deeper. Slow. Uncertain. His hands tighten on your waist, then drift lower, settling just above your thighs like he’s testing the waters.

You exhale sharply against his mouth, gripping his shoulders tighter. He tilts his head, pressing closer, and your stomach flips, heat coiling low in your belly.

The touches are hesitant, inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter.

As you and Lochlan's kiss deepened, you felt something inside you ignite, an ache that spread through your body, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction. You pushed yourself up, your chests pressing against each other, and Lochlan's hands instinctively slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly, anchoring you to him.

You could feel his need, matching your own, as he pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You moved together, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate. Lochlan's fingers dug into your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Lochlan’s breath was uneven, his forehead barely brushing against yours as he hovered over you. The moonlight reflected off the water, painting shifting silver patterns across his skin. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his pupils dark and blown wide.

He wasn’t trying to be rough, it didn’t suit him. But there was something different in the way he touched you now. A little more sure of himself, a little more desperate. His hands traced tentative patterns down your sides, warm and steady, but there was an urgency to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.

Your heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out the waves lapping against the boat. You gasped softly when his fingers skimmed under the waistband of your bikini bottoms, not entirely pushing, just testing. Your hand instinctively closed around his wrist, stopping him.

Lochlan froze. His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to search your face, eyes flicking between yours, afraid he’d pushed too far.

“I—” he started, voice rough, but you shook your head quickly.

“It’s not that,” you whispered, though you weren’t even sure what that was. “You just…you donn’t know what you’re doing. Not really.” And the thought sent a nervous chill down your spine, despite the heat between you.

Lochlan let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Well, neither do you.”

You squinted at him, narrowing your eyes, and he smirked, soft, teasing, almost offended.

“Please…” His voice dropped, quiet and pleading. “Lemme try. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Just Lochlan. Just the boy who had spent the whole night laughing with you, the boy who looked at you like you were something delicate and precious, even as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

Finally, you nodded.

His lips parted slightly, exhaling in quiet relief. But before he could do anything, you grabbed his face between your hands, making sure he was looking right at you.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered, voice firm despite the way it wavered at the edges. “I mean it. No matter how much Saxon gets in your head, you can’t spill.”

Lochlan’s brows furrowed. “Saxon doesn’t get in my head.”

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Promise me.”

Something flickered behind his eyes before he sighed, holding out his pinky. “I won’t tell. Pinky promise.”

You hesitated for half a second before wrapping your pinky around his.

The moment you did, he pressed you back down against the soft, warm deck, lips crashing onto yours again, filled with a new kind of urgency. His fingers dipped under your waistband, dragging your swim bottoms down just enough for him to kiss along your stomach, slow and reverent, like he was worshiping you.

You feel his hands on your bikini bottoms, pulling it down slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you want to. But you remain motionless, staring at the ceiling, silently granting him permission to continue.

As the fabric slides down your legs, you sense his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. He lets out a barely audible breath, his voice a husky whisper that seems to vibrate against your flesh.

With deliberate care, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The position is intimate, vulnerable, and you feel a flutter of trepidation mixed with excitement. You're not sure where this is headed, but you trust him enough to follow wherever he leads.

His fingers brush against your inner thighs, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. You hold your breath, anticipating what might come next. Instead of plunging ahead, he parts your legs the slightest bit, as if savoring the taste of uncertainty.

Then, without warning, his face descends, his breath hot against your core. You gasp, your body tensing reflexively, but he continues undeterred,he moves closer and presses a feather-light kiss against your clit. The sensation is electric, and you can't help but clamp your thighs around his head, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment washing over you.

"Ow," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your grip. "Sorry," you whisper.

He returns between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your slick folds in long, languid strokes. Each pass sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your hips twitching involuntarily in response. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close, unsure whether to guide him or not.

As he works, his nose occasionally brushes against your clit, the slight friction adding another layer of pleasure. Your moans grow louder, more urgent, your body beginning to quake with the approaching climax.

His movements become more insistent, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every hidden crevice. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind foggy with the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, a particularly skilled lick sends you over the edge. A strangled cry tears from your throat as your body seizes, convulsing in your orgasm. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling the sound as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

When you start to relax, you release your death grip on his hair, panting heavily. He looks up at you, mouth wide curled into a shocked smile and he laughs at the sound you made. Without warning, he peppers your thigh with soft kisses.

Irritation flickers across your features as he laughs at your post-orgasmic vulnerability. You shove his forehead half-heartedly, trying to hide the pure utter embarrassment in your face. He catches your wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and presses a tender kiss to your palm.

Satisfied with the gesture, you relax into the carpet, the cool fibers a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from your skin.

With a contented sigh, he reaches over to gently tug your bikini bottoms back into place, covering your still-sensitive flesh.

He lays beside you on his back quietly. The both of you breathing heavily but at different paces, chests rising up and down at different times. Not even looking at you. And you not looking at him. Almost trying to see if you regret what you had just done.

Neither of you speaks, content to drown in the aftermath of your shared experience. Eventually, you both turn to face each other, exchanging smiles.

Breaking the silence, you both erupt in laughter.

sorry this is so long but this was my first time writing smut and I was feeling like Shakespeare.. I got a lot of requests and I’m trying to do them all in a short span of time..

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introducing… fratboy!chris

best paired with… you!

ᡣ𐭩 fucks around and finds out. player. head of his frat house. sweet talker. can never make up his mind. no filter. loves the fact that he can get anyone, but doesn’t. cares strictly about his hockey scholarship and not any “boring classes”. full of himself. best friends with nate. master at beer pong. commitment issues. quick temper. never said the word girlfriend. not in his vocabulary.

thoughts… this is definitely not me projecting ab a boy in my school that gets on my nerves… anyways! asks are welcome and i’m already writing a lil sum sum ab fb!chris 😚

can sunday come quickierr please. i need more of the incest brothers- i mean my two bfs who are brothers 😶😁

LMAOOO😭💔 bro in all seriousness i do think lochlan did more than just jack saxon off. That walk was CRAZY. AND THE SHORTS SWAP?? yeah they’re gonna start to remember more of what happened that night fs. And saxon might kill himself. Ugh they’re so fine.. anyways..

your telling me they’d rather do the whole tour again than just make long/better videos for EVERYONE to enjoy? And the way they’re setting it up it’s genuinely just sounds like this could’ve been put into a live stream but nah let’s do a whole fucking tour at the same fucking place with probably the same fucking people and make it super fucking expensive so we can make more money off all the 14-16 year olds attending. And for everyone at home you get shitty videos and weak ass vlogs yayyy!!! Like bffr and there videos are already getting worse and worse in my opinion like they’re not as entertaining so just put energy into something like the podcasts or genuine good long videos. but ig rent must be high. I was so excited for the announcement I was expecting the podcast to come back😭

Chelsea is a prime example of what happens when a girl loves to much. There’s a limit to how much you can give and she obviously crossed that line. It’s not her fault by any means but I wish she wasn’t obsessed with this man who couldn’t even say I love you none the less put her in danger because of his inability to let go. Stay safe out there guys cause ts is real, and it’s dangerous when you’ll do anything for someone. If you didn’t like the ending at least take stuff from it because mike white is very intentional with his characters and not making them too fiction and animated because these are very real and disturbing scenarios that can happen.

It’s not gay if it’s in a three-way

I hate my family I hate my family I hate my family omg I hate these hoes

Kiss wasn’t sexy enough for me .