#but they were definitely no show socks

[ainawgsd]

*Frustrated veloceraptor screeching* I just want colorful ankle socks. Ankle socks! No show socks ate. not. ankle socks!

Wait...did those socks have Dickson on them?

Yes, those are definitely dicks ...

[turrondeluxe]

Do you think Casey Marie would be upset by how long it takes for her to meet the babies, since there adults when she meets them meaning she missed out on their whole childhood

During the years which Casey is leading the resistance (and winning!) she sets her mind to the goal of getting New York back so she truly doesn't think much about the matter.

She definitely feels bad about it though after being victorious. She can't help it tho because it's just a fact, she did indeed miss out for a big part of the tots lifes, she can't change all the time that has passed.

That doesn't mean that she will forever be bitter about it though, it is a sad passing thought from time to time but it goes away when spending time with her family, all complete and together in the end!

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

I judge documentaries so hard about who they cast for what roles

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[reidrum]

hit me baby one more time | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: i have no explanation for this i just really want spencer to fuck me in a mini skirt. this was also fueled by me listening to baby one more time on repeat for the last week so enjoy my horny thoughts hehe

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v sex, munch!spencer, blowjobs, soft!dom!spence the loml, praise kink, spanking, suggestive dancing, kissing, afab reader, reader wears the outfit from the baby one more time mv (skirt and bra), i picture s11 spence so don’t mind the inconsistencies, idk if kirk actually wears a tie i am a star wars girlie not star trek, lowkey perv spence at the end but i would do the same tbh

summary: halloween brings spencer joy in many ways, this year he finds a new, and super fucking hot, reason to love the holiday more

wc: 3.3k

___________

spencer loved halloween. this was a known fact by many, he loved the lore behind the holiday, loved dressing up as his favorite characters, and loved playing tricks on morgan and jj around the office.

spencer also loved halloween because he gets to see you. not that he didn’t see you on a daily basis in the office or on the field catching killers, but in a state where you were carefree and didn’t have to worry about the behavior patterns of a psychopath.

in past years spencer has dressed up as different versions of the doctor (still claiming his tenth doctor costume was the best, because it was your favorite), the hobbit from lord of the rings, and nosferatu (to the dismay of morgan’s very scared reaction). you would go a more pop culture route, dressing up as characters from recent movies and shows including barbie, the scarlet witch, and wednesday adams.

he loved being able to tell you the lore of the different characters he was and he loved listening to you explaining the cultural significance and impact that barbie had on society. he could listen to you talk about literal garbage, actually, and still be hanging onto your every word.

what he loved the most, however, was your choice of costume tonight at the karaoke bar the team was out at.

for halloween this year you decided to go with a more nostalgic costume. clad in a black mini skirt, tied up white button up showing your tummy and just the right amount of cleavage to have your hot pink bra pop out, gray cardigan, knee high socks and mary janes, you were the spitting image of britney spears in the baby one more time music video. complete with the ribbon entwined pigtails.

the moment you walked in the bar, spencer knew he was utterly and absolutely fucked.

morgan knew about spencer’s infatuation with you, because, he’s morgan and spencer’s not subtle. so when he watched spencer’s mouth hang open like a beckoning for flies to land in, all he could do was pat him firmly on the back and say, “good luck, kid.”

he watched you walk over to the table the team had claimed, making your rounds at saying hi and hugging everyone. he was last, and when you reached up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck he had no choice (lie) but to rest his hands at your hips while his thumbs brushed the bare skin of your stomach. he also had no choice (still, a lie) but to be deathly intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo and perfume as you placed your head in the crook of his neck.

“hi spence! your costume looks so cool, i love how it turned out. were you able to find what you needed at that store i told you about?” you bubbled happily.

it took spencer about ten whole seconds of staring at you (and definitely not at your chest) to realize that you were asking him something and tried to quickly (embarrassingly) recover, “um, yeah no i was! she knew so much about star trek and was super helpful, she told me how much she loves seeing you in the store.” 

you giggle, “i’m glad admiral kirk, she’s a sweet old thing.”

he should be ashamed at how you calling him that went straight to his crotch.

“y- you also look great, who are you supposed to be?”

“i’m britney spears! in the baby one more time music video?”, you’re met with a blank stare, “spence, we have to educate you better on the true icons of our time.” you playfully grab his forearm.

he laughs nervously at your joke and the contact and proceeds to down half his beer in one gulp. thank god garcia comes out of nowhere to gush over your outfit, “oh my god girl, you look so hot. you have to get up there and sing it, it’s only right!”

“let me get a few shots in first and then i’ll see, penny” you chuckle back.

after about two shots you were already feeling loose, whatever anxiety you had about tonight dissipated as the alcohol overtook your bloodstream. truth be told, you had a super secret mission up your sleeve. 

you would be a terrible profiler if you didn’t notice the way spencer changed whenever he was in your company, and it never made you feel uncomfortable. you only craved his attention even more, and it made your crush on him run even deeper. he was kind and smart and caring. and undeniably sexy. you knew for a fact he wanted you too, and you were determined to make him do something about it tonight.

knowing spencer hasn’t seen the music video therefore not knowing why the schoolgirl outfit, it turned you on even more knowing he was going to lose his goddamn mind after you were done. the plan was already rolling in your brain as you sauntered up to the karaoke stage and got ready to put on a show.

the beginning beats of the song play and you get a couple of cheers and “let’s go, baby!” from the crowd and your team— sans spencer, who was hanging on your every move as you started swaying your hips.

“my loneliness, is killing me. and i-i-i. i must confess, i still believe, still believe.” you sing and dance the choreography to the song you know so well.

“when i’m not with you, i lose my mind.” you make direct eye contact with spencer, and are more than excited to see him locked in on you too.

you decide to kick your plan up a notch, and walk off the stage mic in hand towards the bau’s table, earning many cheers and phones capturing the moment. you play up the theatrics a little by getting emily and jj to sing along with you, morgan and rossi leaning into you as you wrapped your arms around their shoulders.

“give me a si-i-i-ign,” you’ve reached spencer, and the last step in your plan.

your finger leaves featherlight touches around his shoulders and across his collarbone as you stand behind his chair. a flat hand trails down his chest closer to the bulge in his pants, spencer’s eyes widening at the gesture. your hand reaches the final destination at the base of tie, and you pull it so he’s looking up at you directly.

“hit me baby one more time.” you finish with the biggest smirk, never breaking eye contact with spencer. the cheers and claps became louder but all you could focus on were the deep breaths he was taking to compose himself. you give him a wink as you hand the mic back to the stage guy and walk back to him to sit on his lap.

“you don’t mind, do you? all the seats are taken,” you smirk as you feel his hard on through your lace panties, “plus i really want to hear what you thought about my performance.” you finish whispering in his ear. he shudders in your hold, but the feeling of your ass weighing on the place he needs you the most, his primal instincts take over and suddenly he has a boost of confidence.

he lifts your head so his mouth is right on the crest of your ear, “how about i show you what your performance did to me?” he shifts a little and lightly thrusts up into your clothed core and you let out a small gasp. luckily the team had all but dispersed throughout the bar, getting drinks or dancing, so no one has to be privy to your conversation.

the glint in your eyes was all the confirmation he needed. you stood up slowly with his tie still wrapped around your fingers, and you pull it over your shoulder so he would trail behind you as you walked. spencer followed you like a dog getting tugged by a leash, literally, and stumbles at first when you pull him but he quickly regains his composure as you navigate through the crowds, placing his hands on your waist protectively.

you end up in front of the women’s bathroom and spencer doesn’t hesitate to push the doors open and lead you inside. it was one of those single person bathroom with no other stalls, but it was definitely one of the more nicer bathrooms you’d been in. the maroon pattern of the wall adding to the sultry vibe you’re setting, not to mention a spacious countertop for the sink and amenities.

the possibilities of what was going to happen run wild in your brain, only being pulled out of it by the sharp lock of the door and the feeling of strong hands snaking around your waist again.

you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror and watch spencer fiddle with the edge of your button up, “i don’t think i told you how much i really like your costume.”

“yeah?” you lean back in his touch, “what do you like about it?”

he moves his hands to the middle of your chest, “well, i like how soft the blouse is,” he deftly undoes the knot, “and i really like the color you got on underneath.” he lets the ends of the shirt fall to your side and slides his hands up to cup your breasts through your lace bra, massaging them gently.

you let out a half gasp-moan, “what else?”

“this skirt is really cute, fits you well.” he hums while he smooths over the front close to your core, leaning down to press love bites into your neck.

you turn around in his embrace to face him, lay your hands flat on his chest, and look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster, “want to see what’s underneath it?”

the ghost of a smirk lies on his face and he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hand cups your cheek closer to him while his other one grips your ass and lower back.

his tongue slots between yours as he deepens the kiss, and he reaches down to the backs of your thighs to lift you up onto the counter. your legs open up instinctively and he steps in between them letting his hand run up the plush of your thigh to the band of your panties. he toys with the lace pattern of it before he detaches his lips and pulls the skirt all the way up.

he slowly sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you as he whispers, “this is definitely my favorite costume on you.” he’s face to face with your pink panty covered pussy and he lets out a groan when he notices the wet spot in the center. he tentatively traces a finger up and down your slit, gauging your reactions.

soft whimpers fall from your mouth as you let out a whiny, “spencer…”

“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna take care of you.” he coos, “lift your hips.” you oblige as he gently pulls your panties down and stuffs them in his back pocket. his large hands push your legs apart, giving him better access as he tugs you closer to the edge and leans in to draw a long stripe up your core with his tongue.

you let out a high pitched moan at the contact, bracing yourself on the counter with your palms flat down. his tongue draws shapes on you and you feel his finger prodding around your hole before plunging in, driving you straight to delirium.

the sensations begin to overwhelm you and you feel the peak rising in your gut. you tangle your hands in his curls, “pl- please don’t stop.” you whimper.

he groans into your pussy and you feel the vibration sent throughout your entire body, enough to push you over the edge and let the white hot overtake you. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers or his tongue as he drags out your orgasm for as long as you’ll take it, before you’re yanking him by his hair off of your core and up to your face to kiss him dumb.

the salty taste of you lingers on his lips as you grab his face with both hands and keep him close to you. he lets out a whimper when you tug his hair again, and you smirk as you break the kiss to slide off the counter and drop to your knees. you quickly undo the clasp of his belt, the sound of his zipper going down making spencer’s heartbeat go faster.

the size of his bulge through his boxers was intimidating but it only spurred your desire to please him more. you look up at him and offer an innocent smile as you lean forward to pull back the fabric of his boxers with your teeth and let it fall back into place with a snap.

the impact caused spencer to moan out loud, and he watched with bated breath while you slowly tugged his boxers down to let his cock spring free. you let out a tiny gasp, “spencer…i never knew you were so pretty.” 

his preening turns into a sharp moan as you take in the head of his length into your mouth. swirling your tongue around like a lollipop. you lay your tongue flat on the underside of his cock and slowly let it enter your throat until your nose is flush with his tummy and you’re gagging to keep him inside.

“ho-o-ly shit, fuck.” spencer groans when he looks down to see his whole length down your throat and your eyes bulging with tears at the fullness in your mouth. he wishes he had a photographic memory so he could engrave the vision of you on your knees for him in his brain forever.

you retract back and start bobbing your head on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you couldn’t easily fit in your mouth. expletives and moans fall from him every millisecond, the feeling being so irrepressible that after a minute spencer had to pry you off him so he didn’t finish in your mouth.

“what, too much?” you grin mischievously, dragging your thumb across your bottom lip to wipe the spit.

his heavy breathing is the only answer you got as he turns your body around to face the mirror, and bends you down at the waist to lean your upper body on the counter. he flips your skirt up so your ass is on display for him and draws his hand back to give your right ass cheek a big smack.

you moan out languishly and he lets out a small chuckle, “kinky, are we?”

“you’re the one who spanked me.”

he bends down to whisper in your ear, “yeah, but you liked it. i can feel you getting wetter.” his fingers return to your core to spread the new wetness onto his cock before aligning it at your entrance. he slowly pushes in, stretching you out bewitchingly. he breaks his gaze from where you connect to look back into the mirror, and god, is he so fucking glad he did.

your face is beautifully fucked out, eyes glistening with tears about to fall over, cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed, your arms pressed so perfectly against the sides of your chest your breasts are threatening to spill out of your bra.

“god, you look like a dream,” spencer whispers from behind as he begins thrusting into you. you moan back in response and push back on his cock to meet his thrusts. the noise of your hips meeting and him sliding in and out of you filled the bathroom. 

“i’m so close, fuck, oh my god.” you whine pathetically. spencer can’t help but smugly grin in response, “already? it can’t be over that fast, hold it.”

you gasp out, “i can’t, please, i need to come.”

he wraps one arm around the front of stomach to hoist you up and uses the other hand to tug on your pigtails to lean your head back towards him, “you’ll come when i say you can. you’re my good girl, right? gonna show me how good you can be for me?” he whispers hotly in your ear.

a loud moan escapes your throat as you try to keep your composure and hold your orgasm at bay. his precise and timed thrusts doing nothing to help you, you feel yourself starting to float away, becoming so cockdrunk off of spencer you can barely keep yourself conscious.

“almost there, pretty girl. you’re doing so well, ‘m so proud of you.”

you make the mistake of looking back up at the mirror, becoming grossly entrapped by the image of spencer pounding into you from behind and his equally fucked out face tucked into your neck, “spence…baby, please.”

he whines at the pet name and finally gives in, “okay princess, you can come now.” your second orgasm of the night ravages through you, leaving nothing behind but thoughts of spencer. he continues fucking you through your peak, chasing his own release to come shortly after.

“fuck, i’m close. where d- do you want me to..?” he stutters.

“in my mouth.” you breath out.

he groans out loud, “on your knees.”

he pulls out of you and you immediately drop to your knees, not hesitating to take his length into your mouth and using both hands to pump the remaining. spencer puts a hand on the back of your head and guides you to thrust onto his cock until he lets out another stuttered groan, spurts of his release coating the inside of your mouth.

you make sure to get every last drop of him down your throat, seductively sliding your mouth off his cock with a resounding pop. you’re breathing heavily and you remain on your knees as you try to remember what fucking world you’re even in. spencer grabs you by the forearms to pull you back up to him, and gently perches you back on the counter noting you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own anyway.

spencer breathes hotly into your face, his hand coming up to caress your cheek and brush a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. his other hand remains on your waist, drawing soothing circles. you grin widely, and spencer notices and matches your smile without hesitation.

“what?” he laughs lightly.

“nothing, it’s just it looks like my plan worked.” you replied.

“and what was this plan of yours?” he grins.

“well, i just wanted you hot and bothered. i did not expect you to fuck me in a bar bathroom,” he blushes at your admission, “plus, you don’t even shake people’s hands. i definitely thought having sex in a public place, let alone the bathroom of a bar, would be so not your style.”

“i think if you keep wearing outfits like this around me,” he gestures to your disarrayed button up and bra, “you’ll be surprised at what i’d be willing to do.”

“so, is this a good time to tell you that britney has other music video outfits that are just as iconic as this one?” you gleam up at him.

his eyebrows raise in curiosity, “it certainly would be. on a totally unrelated note, i’m parked right out front.” he half jokes as he pulls you off the counter towards the door. you giggle and follow blindly behind him, when your eyes draw to the back pocket of his trousers and you notice a flash of hot pink.

“spencer! my panties, oh my god. give them back.”

he looks over his shoulder at you, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he feigns. you roll your eyes and let him have it, totally ignoring the way he shoves the panties further down his pocket out of sight.

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[zweiginator]

thinking about Stanford era art begging you for pussy <3 you insist that you don’t fuck athletes anymore, but he has his sights set on you and he just needs you so so bad :((( he’s willing to get on his knees and prove how badly he wants it :( just down soooo bad for you <3

wait how have i not seen this until now.....im sorry i got so carried away with this and its so long

art feels like he sees you everywhere. you work at his favorite coffee shop; it's the little cafe right off campus that he walks by on his way to the tennis courts every day before class. he sees you at the library and at the grocery store. he sees you at little gatherings: tiny house parties and bonfires and everywhere.

he asks people what your name is, who you are, if they know you at all. and people just shrug. say they've seen you around but they don't know you particularly well.

and he asks these questions to these random peers of his because he thinks he's in love with you. his obsession has festered since you wrote his name on his coffee cup back in august. it was the third day of the semester and there you were in low rise jeans and a simple white t-shirt, your hair pulled back. your lips were the color of bitten cherries and you smiled at him. said 'cold brew for art!' in the most saccharine, syrupy voice he had ever heard.

he already thought he loved you then. and then he kept seeing you. and seeing you. and then seeing you again. you definitely didn't remember him. thousands of customers a day near a vast college campus made art's face fade into a sea of other students with cold brew orders and milk substitutions and impatient sighs.

his thoughts were pure, for the most part. he really yearned of buying you roses. the look you'd have on your face when he handed you the full dozen. giddy as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. and there your cherry cola lipstick would stain. a mark of your territory. he wanted to fucking be yours.

his thoughts were pure until it was early september and it was still hot outside. oppressive, hellish heat made practice unbearable. art remembered seeing signage indicating that stanford had a pool open for students to swim for free. so he followed them and there he was in his socks and sandals with a towel slung over his arm as he searched for a chair.

and when he peered over his sunglasses, there you were in a gingham bikini, baby pink. reading a book. the oils in your sunscreen melded with your sweat and made your legs glisten, a blinding beacon that almost reflected light like a mirror. looking at your legs only guided him to ogling your torso, the expanse of your neck, that too glistening with perspiration. and then he saw your tits and the curve of your ass and every thought he had about dates and dinner and roses was pushed aside.

'fuck' art almost whimpered it. he turned around because swimming at a public pool with his peers sporting a boner would be social torment. so he left.

and for months, art continued with his rituals. seeing you around, he would smile or nod, but he would never formally introduce himself. would never say hello.

even wearing sweaters and loose jeans art found you fucking irresistible. he imagined how your tits were bouncing as you walked to class. how they would look with you on top of him. it all spiraled until he inevitably ended up fucking his fist, his jaw tensed as his mouth fell open and he went to moan your name--just to realize he didn't know it.

now it's halloween, and art shows up to the tennis team's costume party. he doesn't want to be there. in fact, he's dressed up as himself--a lonely stanford tennis player. racket and everything.

art sits on the couch and twirls his racket on the floor, watching it spin. and then, he hears your voice. a trickle of laughter that makes him stand up to find you. and when he does his knees almost buckle.

you're a black cat, with ears glued to a headband and a tight black tank top. a tiny, tiny black skirt and fishnets and heels to match. your nose is painted pink, cheeks adorned with faux whiskers from your liquid eyeliner.

art interrupts your friends completely.

"i'm art." he holds his hand out, awkwardly as he stands in front of you. he's tall and obscures your view of your friend group.

you grab his hand quizzically and introduce yourself and art is beaming. he has your name.

and then you say five words that send an electric shock through his arm, right to his heart.

"sorry, i have a boyfriend." you nod your head to the boy behind art, who looks like he wants to tear his head off with his teeth. he's a football player, it's obvious by his build. he looks huge next to art, although art is taller.

art says meekly, "well it was great to meet you." smiles at you and walks away. he doesn't know what to do with himself. he leaves, dejected.

___

and if art thought he saw you a lot before that party, then the world is pulling pranks on him because now he can't escape you. and the boyfriend he had never seen before seems to always make a guest appearance.

but you notice art a little more too. he's polite and charming, a tad awkward in an endearing way. his arms look strong when he comes into the coffee shop, tennis bag on his back.

when he comes up to the counter, you look at him through your lashes.

"cold brew, art?"

he nods. flushes a shade of scarlet you've never seen before. you've never had this power over a man.

"can i have your number?" art asks, pointing to his cup. you're still holding the sharpie you wrote his name with. you tug your lip between your teeth.

"i told you not even a week ago i have a boyfriend." you lean forward and art looks at your tits unabashedly. he's a little more confident now as he leans forward too.

"can we not be friends?"

you cap the sharpie. "we both know that's not what you want." a pause. "he and i broke up after the party."

art's ears almost visibly perk up. a hope is sparked. was it for him?

"but trust me." you point to art's tennis bag, the words on his t-shirt. "after that douche, i'm never fucking an athlete again."

art bites the inside of his cheek. he nods and grabs a straw from the counter.

"well i'll let you get back to work. it was nice seeing you again." art flashes you a smile. it's contrived and laced with the pang of rejection, but he smiles.

always so cordial.

art takes everything as a challenge. tennis has always been his outlet; it's the one thing that fuels his fire. but now he has you and there's not even anyone in particular to fight against but he wants you. he needs you and he has to make you change your mind.

he sees you around less frequently now; he figures it's due to the changing weather. he asks you for your number a few more times when he sees you at the cafe; his order has changed from cold brew to cappuccino and you always draw a smiley face on his cup. but the last time it was a heart and art is going crazy for you.

maybe it's because he hasn't had sex since summer because he doesn't even want to if it's not you. maybe it's because tennis has slowed down and it's cold outside. but he's losing hope because you've rejected him five times now and it's just getting pathetic.

and then, at a christmas party, he sees you again. in red tights and knee high boots with thigh high socks and a sweater dress. he sees you talking to a boy with mousy brown hair and art wants to fucking strangle him. he walks up to you.

"cute outfit." art says, pointing at you with his beer bottle.

he's wearing jeans and a cream colored sweater. his hair is messy, lips pink from the bitter wind outside. you admit he's cute. you've never denied that. but it's fun to watch him vie for you.

"thank you. yours isn't so bad yourself."

the boy walks away. so he isn't your new boyfriend. art counts that as a win. and he follows you around like a puppy all night. he asks if you need a drink. it feels like before you get a word out, there he is with a new one and he never opens it because he wouldn't want you to ever be uncomfortable.

and usually you would be uncomfortable getting undying attention like this. art's being a little pathetic, but as your friend told you at the halloween party after he walked off:

"fuck, he's hot."

and hours later, art is still there. it's getting late and people trickle out but there he is on the couch. and maybe you're bored. so you sit right next to him. the smoothness of your tights rubs against art's leg as you settle into the couch. his eyes widen.

"why won't you leave me alone?" you ask. it sounds harsher than you mean it.

"i-i'm sorry. i can leave you alone if you want." art has this little frown on his face. but he knows you would've told him to fuck off months ago if that's how you really felt.

you turn towards him and furrow your brows, taking a swig of your beer. "i never said that, artie. i'm just asking why."

you swear art whimpers at the nickname you give him.

"because you're gorgeous." he says, plain and simple. the sky is blue, water is wet, and you're gorgeous.

it makes you melt a little. you don't show it.

"so you don't want to fuck me?"

art chokes on his own beer a little. he notices how everyone is down the hallway, chatting in the kitchen. their voices sound shallow and far away.

art thinks for a minute. he was raised to be a gentleman. to be sweet and kind and patient. but he thinks he's tried that already. so he goes for a more blunt approach.

art sets his beer down and leans in close to you. closer than he has ever been.

"if i'm being completely honest," he swallows. "i'd do anything for your pussy."

his vulgarity almost makes you jump. gives you butterflies too.

your voice is shaky and you are hyperaware of the feeling of his leg against yours. you never noticed his eyes are different colors.

"i told you, i don't fuck athletes anymore."

art draws in a breath. "who said you have to fuck me?"

his eyes are boring into you. pupils blown, a battle line of sweat has appeared over his brows. his jaw is square and tense and he rolls the sleeves of his sweater up.

"i'll do anything for your pussy, i said." he licks his lips. you swear you see him salivating and your legs seem to open without you even realizing it.

art can see your panties. white with a bow on top and he looks away because he was raised better than this. his eyes flit down again and there it is, the jackpot. the fucking powerball. a wet spot. he can even see it through your tights.

"anything? that could be anything." you say. you look around and nobody is there but the room is open concept, new laughter erupts every few seconds. the front door is unlocked.

"exactly." art gets on his knees in front of the couch. he pushes the coffee table further away and it looks like he's about to kiss the floor. he kisses your ankle instead. "i think i've been a good boy."

you want to push him around you want to pull his hair and call him names, god he's making it so easy.

"if you'd do anything, then come here." you pull him by the collar of his sweater and your mouths are millimeters apart. art doesn't know what you mean, what you're about to do.

you slap him across the face. it leaves a mark and the chatter in the other room stops for a second. or two.

a part of you, in the interim, expects art to get up and walk away. to call you crazy. but he smiles, big and toothy. his bottom lip brushes against yours and he mewls,

"do it again, please."

you slam your lips into his and he holds himself up with one arm. his free hand cradles your face and you grab it and slap his own hand across his cheek. art moans into your mouth. ruts against you. it's involuntary, but you feel his cock, hard and heavy through his jeans. but you said you wouldn't fuck him.

the desperation in his kisses makes you almost feel bad. like he's afraid you'll run away. but the way his lips latch onto yours and his tongue licks into your mouth makes you want him too. you pull his hair and wrap your hand around his throat and he pushes your fingers further in. he wants you to make it hurt so he can fucking remember it and see the proof. so you do and he chokes for air, his mouth falling open. you spit in it. he'll take anything you'll give him. he wasn't kidding.

he runs his hands down your body. takes his time with you and you watch to make sure nobody is coming. art doesn't care. he plays with your tits and hikes your dress up but you won't moan for him. he'll make you.

he tears your tights. throws your legs over his shoulders and presses a chaste kiss to your clothed cunt. your hips buck and he holds them down, throwing his forearm over your stomach.

"what if--" you worry.

he looks up at you through his lashes. you can barely see his irises; his cheeks have your handprint tatooed on them.

"i don't care." he pushes your panties to the side.

"fuck."

his dream has come true.

he runs his fingers through your folds and you're soaked for him, sticky and messy and it coats his fingers as he rubs your clit in slow circles.

you hold your moans back, still.

"prettiest pussy i've ever seen." his eyes are almost crossed, the way he's looking at your little cunt, fluttering for him. his mouth is hung open and his lips are so close to your hole, but he just plays with you. spreads you open and admires your swollen little clit as he pushes it around with his thumb.

his fingers are long and you watch him push his middle one into you, all the way to the last knuckle. you grip onto the couch and gasp and he pushes his ring finger in too. he fucks them into you and your eyes are closed and you swear you hear people about to come in--but you moan for him.

"art--artie, please. oh fuck please--"

you're loud. that was too loud, but art nods, knelt before you like you're his fucking princess. you are.

"want me to eat your pussy right here?" he asks it almost sweetly. his fingers fuck into you faster, curling as he works your clit too.

"god--yes, i'll do anything please artie--"

he spits on your pussy. it's probably mixed with your spit too. licks a thick stripe over your lips and spreads you open to flick the strong tip of his tongue over your clit. he moans more than you are; the vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure up your spine and you're yanking on his hair so hard you think it might come out. he kisses your pussy like it's your mouth. it's an extension of it, to him. fucks his tongue into your pretty little hole and he feels it flutter around him. drool drips down his chin. his stubble is rubbing the backs of your thighs raw and he pushes them back. holds the backs of your legs so your ankles dangle and he can spread your pussy himself with his tongue. he can see how you convulse for him. you moan art's name over and over and he never liked his name all that much but right now he loves it because it's tumbling out of your mouth in gasps and whimpers and your legs are shaking under his grasp.

you watch the veins in his hands and arms tremble as he spits on your clit again. the second he makes eye contact with you, he smiles. you hear people coming, and then you're cumming and art isn't letting off even though the hallway isn't that long.

but he pulls your dress down at the last second and purposely spills his beer off the wooden coffee table.

"everything alright out here?" someone asks from the group.

art feigns surprise. "yeah, fuck. spilled my beer. he turns around and it's all over his pants. he wipes your arousal from his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

you stifle a giggle, because there isn't beer on his pants.

[thewispsings]

and they were roommates | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x youtuber!reader

summary: you and oscar are trying to keep your relationship a secret, so when you move in together you tell everyone your just roommates, it isn’t as believable as you thought it would be.

liked by oscarpiastri, and 210,838 others!

yourusername: new city? new roommate!

view comments below!

user1: y/n in her monaco era ???

user2: i did NOT see this coming

user3: wait but i’ll miss your old roommate

user4: RIGHT ??? she was so funny 😭

user5: oscar in the likes ???

user6: what is oscar doing on a y/n post 😨

user7: what if HES the new roommate…

user8: reaching 😭

user9: oscar this oscar that WHENS THE BEW VIDEO ??? ITS BEEN WEEKS

user10: roommate? you’re a like gazillionaire why do you need a roommate ??

user11: why do you need a roommate ?? you’re rich ???

user12: hmmm something’s off

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, and 726,028 others!

yourusername; new video with my new roommate! enjoy :)))

view comments below!

user13: roommate???? not with the way he looks at you

user14: AHHH NEW VIDEO

user14: OMG I LOVED IT

user14: IT WAS SO FUNNY ????

user14: YOU AND OSCAR ARE HILARIOUS TOGETHER

user15: are you SURE youre just roommates ???

user16: roommates don’t look at roommates that way 😾

user17: i watched the video, and i honestly think you guys should just order out from now on…

user18: why is oscar looking at y/n like shes the beautiful girl on planet earth

user19: because she is ??? 🙄

user20: these two are DEFINITELY not just roommates

user21: i don’t think i’ve ever seen roommates who look like they are restraining themselves from kissing every second of the day ??

user22: no yall are definitely dating….

user23: RIGHT ??? because this whole ‘roommate’ DOESNT MAKE SENSE!!!!

user23: LIKE THEY ARE BOTH RICH, WHY DO THEY NEED TO HAVE A ROOMMATE???

user24; the way they both so polite cat coded

user25: if you aren’t already dating, i’m going to need you both to start IMMEDIATELY.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 835,017 others!

yourusername; why do i always pick rock? anyways guys yes i am dating oscar jack paistri, and he’s keeping me hostage.

view comments below!

user26: HELLOOO?????

user27: the feet pic ???

yourusername: yeah oscar’s really into feet ☹️

oscarpiastri: NO IM NOT????

user28: oh i love this…

user29: omg the love letter…

user30: clap if you’re suprised!!

user31: dead silence

user32: it’s kinda easy to tell you’re dating when you look at each other the way you do

landonorris: I KNEW IT!!!

yourusername: yeah we told you last year…

landonorris: exactly? I KNEW IT.

user33: omg he writes you LOVE LETTERS ??? @/user33boyfriend do better.

user34: wow i’m so lonely

user35: i have no idea who this people are, but instagram showed me this literally 20 minutes after my bf broke up with me

user36: so😭happy😭for😭you😭

user37: WHEN IS IT MY TURRN

liked by, landonorris, yourusername, and 924,104 others!

oscarpiastri; she always picks rock. yes im dating THEE y/n l/n

view comments below!

yourusername; never beating the foot lover allegations i fear…

oscarpiastri: YOU STARTED THOSE ALLEGATIONS

yourusername: AND YOURE NOT BEATING THEM

user38: omg the locket 🥹🥹

user39: how long do you think they’ve been dating

user40: twitter detectives are SPECULATING 3 years or so ??

user41: how did they keep this a secret for SO long

user42: you like feet don’t you oscar…

user43: THIS IS SO CUTE IM HYPERVENTILATING

user44: THE LOCKET, THE MATCHING SLIPPERS, THE CUTE SOCKS?? LITERALLY SO CUTEYEYDJDKSS

user45: “she always picks rock” “why do i always pick rock?” i feel left out and i DONT LIKE IT

. . .

notes; the streets are saying oscar has officially moved to monaco ?? so here’s this:

[ellecdc]

Poly!moonwater are the type to be relieved when plans to go out are cancelled. Rem will say loudly as he's talking on the phone- oh no, you can't make it? And reg and r will already be changing into comfy clothes and getting snacks and they'll all be cuddled together before the phone call even ends

mimi: *sends in thoughts/request* mimi: *waits 3 months for lexy to respond* sooorrrrryyyy for the wait! I loved this prompt and hoarded it until inspiration struck

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who loves cancelled plans

Regulus was crouched in front of you as he helped you slide your heels on when Remus’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

Regulus tapped your left foot to encourage you to lift it for him.

“Hey Prongs!”

You both paused in your actions and whipped your head towards your boyfriend to see him already looking at you.

“No, no. We haven’t left yet; we’re just at the door.”

Regulus slowly rose from his crouched position; helping you balance in your awkward one-heel-on stance. 

“Oh really! The poor thing…” Remus cooed sympathetically in a manner both you and Regulus knew was mostly for show. “I’m sorry to hear he’s feeling poorly.”

You finally opted to put your shoed foot back onto the ground as your naked-foot leg began to ache in your flamingo stance. 

“Blimey, no don’t worry at all, we’re totally fine to reschedule.”

And that was all it took for Regulus to crouch back down to undo the buckle of your heel as you all but ripped your jacket off of your shoulders. 

“I hope the rest of you don’t catch it, too.” 

Regulus hung both of your jackets up before pulling Remus’ off his shoulders too; you having long since fled further into the flat at the news of your newly free evening. 

“No, Sirius is definitely the worst sick person.” Remus agreed as he bit back a chuckle watching you come sliding (literally) down the hardwood floors in your fuzzy socks (which he’s asked you not to do as you were going to hurt yourself) and what he recognized to be one of his old t-shirts. 

“Well, you could just lock them both in Haz’s room until the flu has passed; save you and Lil’s the trouble.” 

Regulus appeared around the corner then, donned in his own pyjamas before joining you in the kitchen. 

“No you’re right.” Remus agreed, leaning against the doorframe to watch you and Reg in a practised sort of dance through the kitchen as you grabbed wine glasses and he grabbed the wine before quickly exchanging sides of the kitchen for him to grab bowls and you to grab snacks. “That would be cruel to poor Haz.” 

You had the wine glasses in one hand and a bag of crisps in the other as you went to pass Remus in the doorway, pausing to lean up on your tiptoes for a kiss he quickly reciprocated. 

“Alright, no worries. Yeah, no absolutely, not a problem at all. We’ll catch up soon; hope Haz feels better, give Lily our best! Okay, yup, alright, bye.”

Remus all but tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter, turning to beeline it to your bedroom in order to change into his own comfies before joining you and Reg in the living room. 

You were already curled up in the corner of the sofa as you scrolled through movie options while Regulus poured a glass of wine, placing a kiss to your head as he handed it to you. 

“Harry’s poorly; has a fever.” Remus explained as he pressed a kiss to Regulus' hair before settling next to you on the couch.

You both made sympathetic cooing sounds, though neither of you turned to look at him. 

“Do you guys want Thai or Italian?” Regulus asked as he handed Remus a glass of wine with one hand and scrolled through his phone with the other.

You and Remus both answered Thai in unison as Regulus placed an order for delivery. 

“We should do this more often.” You said with a content sigh as Remus cuddled up beside you.

“Yeah?” Remus said with a chuckle. “What? Stay in?” 

“Cancel plans.” Regulus answered for you before sitting on the floor between you and Remus. 

“Technically we didn’t cancel plans, James did.” Remus corrected.

You snorted into your wine glass. “Even better.”

[pin-k-ink]

thirst // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, jealous sex, possessive!tobio, lingerie, unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk, nipple play, titjob

wc ⇢ 3.1k

"If you keep wandering around the mall like a hungry nomad, your feet are going to bleed." Tobio eyed your overloaded shopping bags with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement.

You stuck your tongue out at your best friend's teasing. Though the spring day was warm, you relished the coolness of the air-conditioned shopping plaza after hours of storefront hopping.

"Says the guy who spends entire days on the court practicing serves until his shoes wear through." You nudged him playfully with your elbow. "This is cardio for shoppers."

Tobio chuckled, running a hand through his raven locks. As athletes, you both lived by pushing your bodies to the limit - whether that was on the volleyball court for him or outside the dressing room for you.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to more carrying and following as you led the way toward another blindingly well-lit storefront. Your face brightened with childlike excitement at the lacy displays in the windows.

"Oooh, let's go in here!" You grabbed his muscular forearm, pulling him along excitedly. "I need to replenish my underwear supply."

Tobio's eyes widened almost comically as he took in the word "Intimate Apparel" spelled out in a calligraphic logo. A rosy blush crept up the back of his neck, but he allowed you to tug him inside the upscale lingerie boutique.

The boutique's plush crimson carpet muffled your footsteps as you eagerly browsed the satin and lace-trimmed displays. Tobio trailed awkwardly behind, the tips of his ears still tinged pink from embarrassment. Surely as your oldest friend he'd accompanied you lingerie shopping before, but the experience never failed to fluster him.

You ran your fingers along a silk negligee, admiring the delicate floral embroidery. "What do you think, Tobio? This one's pretty."

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "I, uh, yyeah. It's...nice."

Sensing his discomfort, you let the filmy fabric fall back against the mannequin's curves. With a teasing grin, you decided to have a little fun at your easily-flustered friend's expense.

"Oh wow, look at this!" You gestured toward a particularly risqué teddy with tantalizing peekaboo cutouts. "Maybe I should get this and finally snag myself a boyfriend to model it for."

Tobio made a small choking sound in the back of his throat. You laughed at the bright red now staining his chiseled features.

Before he could sputter a retort, a petite blonde salesgirl materialized at your side. "That's one of our lacier numbers," she said approvingly. "Very popular with the daring crowd looking to spoil their lovers."

"Well, I don't currently have a lover to spoil," you replied with a wistful pout. "Maybe I'll get it anyway in hopes of someday landing a special someone..."

You made a show of examining the flimsy negligee, tugging at the shimmery fabric as if gauging how it might hug your figure's curves. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Tobio's reaction intently.

The salesgirl watched your teasing display with an indulgent smile. When you glanced over at Tobio, you found he had wandered a few paces away, studiously examining a display of silk robes. His broad shoulders were tense, whether from discomfort or restraint you couldn't say.

"You know..." The salesgirl leaned in conspiratorially. "If you really want to knock his socks off, you should take a look at our specialty Brazilian line."

Your brows shot up as she led you toward a curtained-off section with a neon "Sexy" sign. Taking in the sheer, fringed confections on the mannequins, you felt your cheeks grow warm.

"These are...wow. Definitely bold," you murmured, running a fingertip along a minuscule G-string. The floss-like scrap of stringing and ribbons could hardly be called underwear at all.

The salesgirl's eyes danced mischievously. "For the woman who wants to drive her man wild. I'd bet you could get that tall, gorgeous friend of yours hot and bothered in two seconds flat wearing one of these numbers."

You threw a furtive glance in Tobio's direction, suddenly envisioning him flustered in an entirely different way. A shiver chased down your spine at the thought.

"You know, these might be just the thing to break the tension..." The words slipped out in a hushed tone.

Seeming to sense she'd accurately read the chemistry between you and your oblivious companion, the salesgirl gave you a conspiratorial wink.

Despite your pounding heart and flushed cheeks, you found yourself at the register purchasing one of the daring lingerie sets before you could overthink it. The salesgirl gave you a sly smile as she tucked the tissue-wrapped parcel into your bag.

"Good luck," she whispered with a wink.

You rejoined Tobio in the main boutique area, your steps feeling uncharacteristically shaky. He eyed your bag with furrowed brows but didn't pry, instead falling into step beside you as you headed for the exit.

The ride back to your neighborhood was a tense, charged silence that made you hyperaware of Tobio's proximity. You snuck sidelong glances at his chiseled profile, wondering if he could possibly guess the secret you now carried in your purchases.

Finally you arrived at your building, ascending the stairs up to your apartments on the third floor. Tobio walked you to your door out of old habit.

"I'll let you get settled," he said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long day."

You nodded, keenly aware of the slinky lingerie set tucked away and suddenly burning with curiosity over what Tobio might think if he saw it. Before losing your nerve, you blurted out, "Tobio? Do you maybe want to come in for a minute?"

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he gave a slow nod. "Sure, if you want some help with your haul."

Once inside, you excused yourself to freshen up, leaving Tobio alone in your living room with your multitude of shopping bags. Quickly you stashed away the lacy negligee in your dresser, hoping he wouldn't stumble across it.

When you returned, you found Tobio rooting through one of the bags, brows knit as he pulled out unfamiliar tissue paper packaging.

Tobio's dark brows knit as he pulled apart the tissue paper, his calloused fingers brushing against sheer, silky fabric. As comprehension dawned, a deep flush crept up his neck.

"Y/N...what is this?" His gravelly voice was tight as he held up the scarcely-there lingerie set.

You froze in the doorway, feeling your own face heat up. Of course he would find that particular purchase. Suddenly your heart was pounding.

"Oh...um, that?" You willed your voice not to waver. "Just a little something I treated myself to at the boutique."

Tobio swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the flimsy ribbons and frills draped over his large palm. "But...why would you need..."

"Need sexy underwear?" You arched a brow. "Maybe I'm finally going to put myself out there. Try to catch myself a boyfriend."

His penetrating blue gaze snapped up to your face, an unreadable storm brewing in their depths. You held his stare steadily, trying to gauge his reaction.

"A boyfriend?" The slightest edge crept into Tobio's tone. "Who did you have in mind for modeling this stuff?"

You pretended to examine your nails nonchalantly. "Oh, no one in particular yet. Maybe I'll put out feelers on a dating app..."

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. With two long strides, Tobio closed the distance between you until his body heat enveloped you.

"You really want to prance around in lingerie for some random guy?" His low rumble made your knees feel weak. "Let someone else see you like this?"

Dragging in a shuddering breath, you tilted your face up until it was a scant inch from his. "Would you prefer I only modeled it for you, Tobio?"

His gaze darkened with a molten heat, one large hand settling possessively on your waist as he angled his head down until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from yours.

Tobio's heated gaze dropped to your parted lips for a loaded moment before he tilted his chiseled jaw, the roughness of his stubble grazing your sensitized skin as his mouth brushed a feather-light, tantalizing caress against the corner of your lips.

A shuddering breath escaped you at the electrifying almost-kiss that was somehow more maddeningly provocative than a full-on lip-lock. Tobio's lashes were low, his pupils swallowing the blue of his irises as he leaned back just enough to hold your yearning stare.

With agonizing deliberation, he pressed the lacy negligee into your hand, his calloused fingers boldly grazing the swell of your breast as he stated in a low rasp, "Put it on. For me."

You felt your core tighten with heated anticipation at the commanding growl underlying his words. There was no mistaking the want, the hunger simmering just beneath Tobio's restraint now.

His hand fell away as you clutched the lingerie to your chest like a lifeline. You struggled not to squirm under the smoldering promise flickering in the depths of his eyes. With leaden legs, you forced yourself to turn and head for your bedroom before your weakening knees could betray you.

Shoulders squared, you shot him one last look over your shoulder. "Don't go anywhere."

The words emerged lower, huskier than you intended. But from the way Tobio's strong throat reflexively constricted, you knew the message had landed.

In your bedroom, you tugged the sundress over your head and quickly shimmied into the sheer bra and matching panties, taking in the sight of yourself in the mirror. You were no stranger to lace, satin, and all the accoutrements of seduction, but the lingerie set was far more scandalous than anything else in your closet. The delicate ribbons and sheer panels accentuated your curves, making you feel impossibly more exposed - and more irresistible.

Giving a little shimmy, you adjusted the straps and let out a shuddering breath, nerves fluttering. It was hard to believe that the moment you'd been imagining and fantasizing about for years was finally here.

Pulling open the door, you were met with Tobio's piercing blue gaze roving over you with unmasked hunger as he stood hunched over with his hands braced against the doorframe, trapping you in his shadow.

He straightened, a predatory glint flashing across his features. Your pulse quickened as he backed you slowly toward the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sat back.

Tobio loomed over you, his large frame blocking out the light, the air crackling with tension as his hooded gaze swept over you. He looked every inch the conquering king surveying his domain.

You fought to steady your erratic breaths, feeling suddenly dizzy. A small whimper escaped you as Tobio reached out, the rough pads of his fingers skimming the sheer, gossamer panels of your bra, tracing the swell of your breasts.

Your body trembled as he brushed his thumb across your nipple, sending a jolt of electric heat straight to your core. Tobio's intense, heated gaze never left yours as he repeated the motion, his touch firm and deliberate, watching you respond.

"This is the kind of stuff you wear for someone who’s about to fuck you," he said, his voice a low rumble that had you clenching your thighs together. "And you're telling me you wanted to model this shit for some random guy?"

Your breathing quickened, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you as he palmed your breasts through the thin fabric, his thumbs and forefingers deftly tweaking the hardened buds.

"What if I told you I didn't want you to model it for anyone but me?" Tobio's low, silken tone was almost a purr as his calloused fingertips drifted higher, curling around the slender straps holding up the scant top.

Slowly, torturously, he eased them down your shoulders, his eyes following the path of his movements, drinking in every inch of bare flesh. You watched, transfixed, as he pulled the fabric down further, exposing your breasts and the hardened, rosy peaks.

Tobio let the straps fall to your elbows, his large hands moving to cup your naked breasts, squeezing them with just enough force to make you gasp. A small smirk curled his lips as he thumbed your sensitive nipples.

"Answer me."

"I..." The words caught in your throat, and you had to swallow hard. "I wouldn't let anyone else see me like this. Only you."

Satisfaction flared in Tobio's gaze at the confession, his thumb and forefinger twisting the pebbled buds harder, sending a fresh wave of sparks dancing over your skin. He let his knuckles dance over your skin, skimming the smooth expanse of your throat before he roughly slammed you down onto the bed, his broad frame covering yours.

His lips captured yours, and the kiss was fierce, possessive, claiming, as he nipped and sucked at your bottom lip. His tongue plundered your mouth, demanding and unyielding.

Tobio's calloused hand slid along your skin, skimming the curve of your waist before palming your thigh, the touch scorching through the sheer panties. Your body felt on fire as he traced a finger along the elastic waistband, teasing and taunting, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip before he bit down, sucking hard enough to draw a moan from you.

Your hips bucked as his hand delved lower, his fingers pushing the panties aside. You moaned again as his thumb swirled around your swollen clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

Tobio chuckled lowly against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he kissed and licked his way down to your breasts. You arched against him as his tongue swirled around one of your hardened nipples, and then his teeth were biting down, and you were moaning his name, begging for more.

The sound of his zipper sliding down was like a gunshot, and your core tightened in anticipation. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, shoving them and his boxers off completely, his thick, erect cock springing free.

The sight of his length was almost intimidating, and for a moment you wondered how he would even fit. He smirked at your reaction, a gleam in his eye as he rubbed the tip against your wet slit.

"Not yet." His voice was low and husky, the promise of pleasure dripping from his tone. "I want to fuck those tits first."

Next thing you knew, his hands were on your hips, tugging you further down the bed until he was straddling your stomach. His hands bunched up the lacy material, his cock sliding against your sternum.

He grabbed the front of the negligée you wore, the lacy cups forcing your tits together as Tobio held the fabric as what could only be described a rein. Your lips parted in a gasp as his thick length slid between the soft globes, the tip of his cock appearing above the sheer cups.

Tobio's gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes dark with desire. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching as his hips rocked, his cock thrusting between your tits. The sight was obscene, and you felt a fresh wave of arousal flood your core.

The sensation of his cock sliding between your tits was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. The friction was intoxicating, and you could feel the tension building in his thighs as his pace quickened, his length growing slick from the beads of precum that had gathered at the tip.

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the headboard as his hips continued to piston, his cock thrusting in and out of the makeshift opening of your bra. His eyes were half-lidded, his jaw clenched, his muscles rippling under his skin.

Your own hands found their way to your nipples, playing with the sensitive nubs, and Tobio growled at the sight. The sound went straight to your core, and you squeezed your thighs together, desperate for some relief.

You could tell he was close, his pace growing erratic, his breaths coming in sharp pants. His hips snapped, and then his body tensed, and you felt his cock throb between your tits. His cum spurted, landing in white ropes across your throat andchest, and he continued to rock his hips, fucking his release out.

His chest heaved as he stared down at you, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting himself.

You were a mess, his release staining the fabric of the lingerie, the front of it twisted and wrinkled. But Tobio didn't seem to care, his hands still tangled in the lace as he tugged it down, exposing your breasts again.

"I wanna see those tits bounce when I'm pounding into you," he said, his tone dark and possessive, as if he had no intention of letting you leave his sight.

Before you could react, he grabbed your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed, his hands digging into the soft flesh as he spread them wide. You were soaked, your pussy dripping and aching to be filled.

Tobio gripped his cock, using the tip to nudge your sodden panties aside. You gasped as he slowly pressed into you, and your walls stretched to accommodate his thickness. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust, before he began to thrust.

His pace was relentless, his hips snapping against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. You could feel the tension building, your muscles clenching around him as his cock plunged in and out.

Your moans were loud and wanton, and you were sure your neighbors could hear, but you didn't care. All that mattered was Tobio and his thick cock driving into you, the feel of him filling you, the slap of his skin against yours.

His grip tightened around your thighs, pressing them back until you were almost bent in half. His cock hammered into you, and the new angle made your toes curl, his length hitting all the right spots.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, and you cried out, your pussy clamping down around him as you gushed and sprayed him with an obscene amount of liquid. He kept thrusting, prolonging your pleasure, his eyes locked on yours.

His pace faltered, and his body stiffened, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, spurting and filling you with his seed. He grunted, his cock pumping rope after rope, his thrusts slowing as he milked his release.

Finally he stilled, his length buried inside you, and his gaze locked on yours. His lips curled into a smug smirk, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours.

"Don't think I'm done with you yet," he said, his voice husky. "I plan on fucking you over every surface in this apartment, and then some."

[kleftiko]

❦ FAMILY AFFAIR

"keigo can’t help that the sight of you with kids makes him want to put a baby in you, and you’re so willing to let him"

cw: rut, breeding, marking/biting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, cream pie

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

It started with your niece and nephew.

When the two of you knocked on the door, only for the five-year-old girl to open it a sliver, scream your name in glee, and immediately start giggling and running around, Keigo already felt it in his stomach.

Then it was the way you sat on the couch, and she crawled into your lap while her older brother started showing you his latest drawings. The way you could so easily switch between talking to the two of them, holding your niece as she started climbing all over your shoulders, had him tuning out his brother-in-law in favour of admiring you with the unknowing feeling again.

The next was the way you handled your nephew when he tried running up the stairs in his clean socks, only to slip and hit his knee. Keigo could only freeze up when he heard the crying, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. When you bent down to his level and showed him one of the little scars you got when you were younger and fell off your bike, explaining how you also cried when you hurt yourself, he felt his cheeks heat up.

The final straw was when your niece, who carried around her hawks plushy everywhere, whispered in your ear while looking at him with a shy glance. You smiled kindly at her and said, "I don't think so. I'm gonna marry him." And he finally recognized what he was feeling.

He wanted to make you a mom.

The whole way home, he was quiet, and it was a little unnerving. But Keigo couldn't help the thoughts going through his mind. If you had a little girl, would she look as beautiful as her mother? His heart couldn't help but swell at the thought of going home to his two favourite girls and holding them close. If you had a son, he would definitely be a mama's boy, smiling up at you for praise every time he did something. You were just so good with kids that it would be impossible for him not to be.

And then he started thinking about making a baby. He couldn't help the way his cock twitched in his pants when he thought about fucking you raw. You two had never done that before; clean-up was always easier when he had a condom, and it gave the two of you peace of mind with his hectic job, but thinking that he could make a mess of you by filling you up with his cum so that it was dripping out onto the sheets beneath you was something he didn't know he needed in life until that exact moment.

The noises you would make as he fingered his cum back into your sopping pussy, the way you'd waddle around when you're pregnant with his kid, the fact that you'd be forever his when he gives you a child—it all made his brain fuzzy.

So when you softly asked if he was okay when you came home, he couldn't help but grab you and kiss you. He held you tightly, feeling a deadly rush of emotions and gratitude for having you in his life.

And the way you so easily let him slip his tongue into your mouth without question had him whining in need.

"I wanna give you a baby." He mumbled between kisses, pushing you blindly to your shared bedroom.

You uttered a sound in confusion, but it was interrupted by a gasp when he started sucking at your neck.

"Need to make you mine, baby, all mine." He babbled. "need to get you pregnant—need to fill you up."

You whined loudly at that and grabbed the belt of his pants, yanking his body right up against yours and pushing his hard cock into your hips.

"You wanna fuck me raw, baby?" You asked with such a sweet voice that his legs wobbled. "Finally wanna cum inside?"

He nodded his head vigorously, his cloudy eyes filled with desire.

"Yes, please," he whimpered, his voice laced with desperation.

Your hands reached down to grope him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath your touch, and a wicked smile played on your lips.

"Mmm, you're so hard for me," you purred as you teasingly squeezed him. "I can't wait to feel you deep inside me."

His breath hitched as he let out a low moan, completely lost in the moment.

As you pushed him onto the bed, his muscle memory nearly kicked in, and he almost reached to the side table to grab a condom when he remembered what you two wanted. Instead, he grabbed your hips and threw you down beside him, foggy mind barely registering the harsh bounce against the mattress.

With animal-like speed, he pounced on you, strong hands gripping your wrists like iron as they held them above your head. His mouth dipped to the curve between your shoulder and neck, pearly white teeth sinking into the flesh that had you hissing in pain and rubbing your legs together.

"Keigo!" you shouted, completely enraptured with this new feeling.

"Sorry, baby," he muttered half-heartedly, his whispers tickling the edge of your ear before he bit down there too.

You couldn't stop the delightful shivers if you wanted to. Keigo's mouth continued its trek, nipping at all the soft spots along your beautiful skin that had you panting. He only released your wrists when he couldn't take the confinement of his pants anymore; the pathetic whimpers he let out as he clumsily undressed his lower half had you equally rushing your jeans off as well. You didn't have time to take off your shirt when your boyfriend smashed his lips into yours for a heated kiss, his cold tongue immediately swiping across your own in a desperate attempt to taste you. and you didn't bother slowing him down; the rational hero he was by day was long gone, and the man in front of you held no other purpose than to be completely yours. His rough fingers slid under your shirt, one hand groping your tits through your bra and the other sliding between your legs.

He whined into your mouth, barely detaching your lips to mumble, "How are you so wet, baby? want this just as bad as me?"

All you could do was clumsily nod, your boyfriend not letting you leave his touch for more than a moment. It didn't matter, though, because with the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, he could tell you only wanted to be closer.

There was a messy overlap of hands as the two of you feverishly grasped for Keigo's thick, leaking cock and lined it up to your heat. The erratic atmosphere only cooled down for a second when he slipped inside you--you both releasing sighs of euphoria--before your boyfriend when absolutely feral.

His movements became all the more intense and primal, as if all those years of pent-up desire and longing were finally free. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other balanced your leg over his shoulder while you clawed at the soft skin of his arms in an attempt to clear your mind from the pleasure he was giving you. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic collision of your bodies, heightening the passion between you both.

"Fuck, baby, you're mine—you're all mine," he panted. "'m gonna make you feel so good. 'm gonna fill you up."

"Gonna give me a baby, Kei?" You responded, just to hear him whimper and see a thin line of tears well up in his closed eyes.

If it was possible, he slammed into you harder, sending your back to arch in ecstasy at the feeling and the sound of your dripping cunt sucking him in.

"Fuck, mama, you'll be so good." He babbled, moving the hand that was digging into your hip to your leg and pushing them both forward.

You gasped breathlessly as your knees hit your chest, but you didn't have time to say anything when your voice broke in a scream at the feeling of keigo hitting you so deeply in this new position.

Your body trembled uncontrollably as the intense pleasure consumed you. Your senses were overwhelmed by everything—the heat of his body against yours, the sound of his pants and the thrusts moving the bed, the smell of both of your arousals dripping from your leaking pussy—it was all too much. Every thrust from Keigo sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. You didn't have any sense left in you to warn him that you were cumming; instead, you let out a strangled gasp as your head rolled back.

Whether or not your boyfriend understood what happened didn't matter, because seconds later he was screaming your name in a daze and releasing his hot cum into your abused pussy.

Then the atmosphere became softer, tired and satisfied pants coming from both of you as he laid his sweating body on top of yours. His hot breath tickled at your neck, his arms wrapped around you, and his now-softening cock stayed stubbornly inside you. It took a few minutes before you could catch your breath and say something, but neither of you minded, not when you lovingly kissed his head and traced the red scratches you left on his biceps.

[dorkybunnydotcom]

Dabi was infatuated with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Your cute clothing and the features that made you look like some sort of prey animal…

You where fucking adorable to him, precious and sweet and delicate like if he touched you you’d just break into peices. He didn’t understand at all why such a cute thing like you wanted to cling to him all the time, not that he was really complaining. He loved the contrast between you two, the way you held onto his arm and trailed behind him slightly when together. The way the insane amount of cute keychains on your bag jingled when you walked. And the way your lip gloss rubbed off over his scars every time you kissed them gently; it didn’t take long for him to become obsessed with you.

He loved having traces of himself on you, not exactly corrupting your cute innocent self- but something akin to it. He smirked when he was able to leave enough marks on your neck and thighs that they showed in places your clothing didn’t cover, the dark marks and bites making the cute bows and socks and sweaters you wore that much cuter.

He had you wear one of his obnoxiously chunky and aggressive looking rings- which couldn't even fit on your finger. Even better to him, he put it on a necklace and you wore it around your neck every day- it wasn’t noticeable enough to ruin your outfits but it was clear you were someone’s- claimed by him.

His favorite was when you got cold, the way you cling to him and begged for his jacket, he’d call you a brat and complain lightly, but the way his heart ached seeing you drowning in his jacket was unmatched, now that definitely ruined your cute outfits, but he didn’t care and neither did you.

He also doesn’t give a damn how much or little you wear, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about creeps. So he makes sure to keep note of who’s looking at you so he can cremate them later, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head.

After all you’re his. Since the moment he first laid eyes on you, since the first moment you opened your mouth and spoke to him, that sweet soft tone he has come to love, he had already claimed you in his mind, his pretty doll and no one else’s.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

AHHH hi … I wanted to write something similar to the Tomura x Doll S/O with Dabi because I absolutely love him and he reminds me of my bf

I so hope you guys enjoyed thisssss !!

[buntanteen]

sweet and loving boyfriend!joshua headcanons <3 (sfw)

summary: shua and reader romantic relationship headcanons :3 (you can read as a stand alone or as a part of the upcoming jihan poly relationship!!)

contains: mushy romance. implications that reader speaks korean & english

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

boyfriend!joshua who'll let you cling and bite onto his thick ass arms and put your face in his tiddies😌

sunday mornings are exclusively quality time with boyfriend!joshua. y'all will be making a breakfast spread or sitting on the balcony soaking in the sunrise, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. joshie’s absolute favourites are rainy sunday mornings (…WE KNOW WHY) and he will smoother you with in bed cuddles <3 🥹

boyfriend!joshua who is completely and utterly enamoured by you. the two of you will make eye contact and he'll hit you with that lil ◠‿◠ smile and then you're melting and now he's melting and you're both melting, and the members are disgusted at how ooey gooey y'all are being

disgustingly sweet boyfriend!joshua who always does cheesy shit to make you blush. he’ll ask "hey, can you hold this for me? ><" and then proceed to put his hand in yours fgjkdbs

having to compromise with boyfriend!joshua about texting back because why does this man not reply to people??

boyfriend!joshua who will always order food for you!! and will always feed you the perfectly made bites of his meal as well :3

boyfriend!joshua who likes to share his specific taste in things (furniture, perfumes, jewellery, etc.) with you. even if you aren't for fancy things, you'll show interest for him because it makes him happy 😊

an absolute sucker for seasonal or weather-based dates. especially water based dates...what can i say boyfriend!joshua likes water. is so so happy in the rain, just running around splashing puddles (what can i say...he likes water :3)

winter dates: going ice skating and when u fall boyfriend!joshua skates up to u in distress and asks if u need some ice for that😑will buy you snacks at the street vendors as an apology and to warm you up <3

summer dates: at the beach where boyfriend!joshua loves taking sunset pics of you to make his phone's lockscreen and background

boyfriend!joshua who can't meet you empty handed and will get you random things such as lil drinks, a pair of socks cuz they were cute or an expensive ass perfume cuz he thinks it'll smell nice on you :3

boyfriend!joshua who will sweetly serenade you with his guitar…and then bust out the sunday morning because he got too shy afterwards

on days where you don't feel the best, boyfriend!joshua will come home to you with a care package when you feel down and absolutely pamper you with whatever you desire until you feel better. he'll definitely do that head patting thing to you 🥹

boyfriend!joshua kissing your hand as he leaves for his schedules. you tightening your grip and pulling him closer, causing him to do that delighted laugh of his before he gives you a proper goodbye kiss gjkfbd

matchy matchy outfits and items with boyfriend!joshua 🥰 loves when you’re matching him with a phone case or a keychain or jewellery or the entire fit

boyfriend!joshua being a gentleman and you being a one right back at him. it becomes a competition atp for who can do the more chivalrous thing. you opening his car door after he's driven you to your date destination? he'll open up the door to the establishment for you (he waved open to the sensor door thing lmao)

boyfriend!joshua u find him not crazy but it turns out u just are the same level of freak as him :D he's just crazy and crazy for you <3

trying out different hands on activities with boyfriend!joshua!! y’all are on a mission to try to impress his momma with baked goods (cuz wdym making cookies is easy THAT SHIT IS DIFFICULT😭)

switching languages with boyfriend!joshua during conversations. pulling different english or korean words whilst the members just stare at you confused (vernon either joins in or is in his own world)

boyfriend!joshua sweetly calling you “baby” or “yeobo”. or will casually call you “babe”. calls you “my baby” “my darling” in very romantic moments or when he wants something really badly cuz he knows it'll make you fold 😌

always making boyfriend!joshua laugh because it makes you so happy to see him so happy. his laughter pierces you, blooming and spreading joy throughout your body

boyfriend!joshua who is just a soft lover with a glowing warmth to him. he's the rays of the sunset that warms you after a long day with the promise of a better tomorrow <3

ames note: i am so SOOOO down bad for this man it is crazyyy. his recent live was my first ever live of joshie and i was just?? giggling??? and smiling??? so much!?!? svt at lollapalooza is in just over a day!! i hope everyone can enjoy ittttt (it is at like 3am for me rip. i hope y'all enjoyeddddd the writinggg~ i'm gonna write a jeonghan and jihan poly headcanon at some point idk when tho <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[st4rymoon]

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

[sturn-saturn]

hey baby girl

pairing: fem!pregnant!reader x husband!chris

warnings: just cutesy stuff <3

a/n: i thought of doing this while watching shameless 😁

week 20: "hey, baby girl!" chris says as he holds up a camcorder. "so today, mama and i went to the baby doctor and we found out you're a girl!" your husband turns the camera to you and your hand is placed on your baby bump rubbing it up and down while the other is holding up your ultrasound pictures.

"we're so excited to meet you baby girl!" you smile kissing the camera goodbye.

week 21: "hey, baby girl!" you say holding the camera. chris is upstairs in your shared bedroom still sleeping. "as you can see, mama just woke up, i'm very tired but dad i have some errands to run so we can prepare for you to join us in 19 weeks. so the plan for today is to visit your grandparents, dads parents, then we're going out to target to look at some onesies for you and little socks to keep your tiny toes warm, after is the grocery store. i'll be sure to get some yummy stuff so i can keep you and i fed! alright baby girl, catch you later!" you say kissing the camera once again.

week 22: you and chris were on the couch watching coraline since it was your favorite comfort movie.

"hey baby girl!" chris says holding the camera up to face you both has his other hand is rubbing your belly gently.

"so right now dad and i are watching my favorite comfort movie because i wasn't feeling well today."

"her tummy was cramping but don't worry, it wasn't your fault. you're our baby girl, you could do no wrong." your husband says with a big grin.

"i'm hoping when you're older you enjoy this movie as much as i do. your dad and i actually watched this on our 5th date i believe." you smile.

"alright sweetheart, mamas gotta get her rest, see you tomorrow!" your husband says kissing the camera.

week 23: "hey baby girl! alright so we are in the car right now and todays plan is going to the doctor to make sure you're healthy and see how much you've grown. after that we need to find a bassinet for you to get a good nights sleep!" chris smiles at how cute he finds you.

"there are so any people who can't wait to meet you sweetheart. 4 grandparents, a bunch of aunts and uncles, our friends too!" he adds.

"you're so loved already, honey. okay we're here! time to go!" you kiss the camera.

week 24: "hey baby girl so today, uncle nick and uncle matt dropped by and got you some presents. they got you the cutest onesies, some baby bottles, and toys! we know you wont be able to play with toys until you grow a bit and get used to the new world but you are going to love them! also dad has something to say." you hand the camera to chris and get up to get a snack.

you over hear your husband talking to the camera and your eyes soften looking over at him.

"mama and i are gonna do everything we can to protect you. we will support you in anything you want to do. the only things we want from you is to be a good person and spread love. also you have to play lacrosse or hockey like me and your uncles did!" he laughs.

"chris what if she doesn't wanna play either of those?" you ask.

"well what every she decides to play she's gonna be amazing. she's half of you anyway. bye darling!" he yells kissing the camera.

week 25: "hey baby girl! we're currently at grandma and grandpas house for a little cook out with the family." you say showing everyone around.

"are you guys making a little vlog for the baby?" jimmy asks.

"we are!"

"mind if i say a few words?"

"not at all!" you hand the camera to jimmy and you use this time to rest your arms a bit.

"alright sweetheart. as you know, i'm your grandfather, your dads dad. i just wanted to let you know that i can't wait to meet you. you're my first grandkid! as much as i love my boys, i've always wanted a girl in the family and you're finally making that dream happen. i will definitely be taking you on fishing trips so get ready!"

jimmy hands you the camera with a big smile on his face. "you're gonna be a great mother, honey."

tears start to well in your eyes from the love you've received from your husbands family throughout the years. you thank jimmy and you kiss the camera goodbye.

week 40: "hey baby girl!" chris whispers. "today is a big day. mama felt some extra kicks last night and it turns out you're coming today! she's currently resting right now so she can use all her energy and strength to bring you here. keep this between us, but your moms a superhero." he smiles.

"chris?" you mumble. "come here."

chris comes over with the camcorder in his hand with a look of concern on his face. "what's up mama?"

you reach your hand for the camera and he hands it to you.

"hey sweet girl. i'm sure dads told you we're at the hospital right now waiting for you to come. it's currently 10pm and we're all super tired but this is all worth it if it means we get to finally meet you." you smile lazily.

4 hours later...

the doctors all finally left the room. they said that was the easiest delivery they've had to work through. chris is currently standing with your baby girl in his arms facing the window to see the city lights.

"hey clara." chris whispers rocking his daughter back and forth gently. "mamas resting again. the doctors told her she did a great job! i told you your mom was a superhero. in just 3 days you'll get to come home with us. how exciting is that!? grandma and grandpa are coming tomorrow to see you as well as your uncles. i love you baby girl. goodnight." chris kisses his daughters head before setting her back in her bassinet.

he relishes in the feeling of being a new dad before he drifts off into a good nights sleep.

taglist:

@sturniolos4life16 @hoeforchrizz @luckyscharms @emely9274 @chrispotatos @weirdratperson @simpson12 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @angeldvstee @pussypie456 @valentinasturniolo @chrissturnioloenthusiastforlife @cravingchrissturniolo @wonnieeluvvr @flouvela

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit. 

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again. 

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head. 

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain. 

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago! 

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth. 

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!” 

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register. 

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.” 

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!” 

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron. 

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal. 

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.” 

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous. 

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips. 

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

 A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns. 

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick. 

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor. 

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn