#carlos is a big himbo and an absolute puppy and no one can tell me otherwise

[balladeer-angelo]

Pretty pretty please☆ 39, with carlos x reader cuz i have an extreme thirst♡♡♡

this turned out so long and I’m so sorry but I just had too much fun with it lol enjoy!

Carlos x Reader

39: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

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He wasn't sure what was going on this week, but he swore you were up to something.

It all started Monday morning, the beginning of a busy work week for both you and Carlos. You were in the kitchen cooking breakfast, pancakes with a warm cream cheese frosting, humming and swaying in your pajama shorts and a tank top while you whisked the batter. He shuffled into the kitchen with a 'good morning' yawn, immediately going for the fresh pot of coffee. You greeted him, pouring some batter into the sizzling pan. He was leaning against the counter, sipping his hot cup of Joe when you turned to ask him if he slept well as he'd been having trouble just keeping his eyes closed most nights. Those tired eyes of his zeroed in on your chest, something white and translucent drizzled across your cleavage. He almost choked.

"You've got- um..." His voice rumbles out from behind the ceramic mug, teetering off as he continued to stare like he had fallen into a trance. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "Your chest. There's... stuff on your-." He points at you and draws in the air with his finger.

You look down and click your tongue. "Ugh, damn it." You whined. "Guess I wasn't paying much attention while I was making the frosting."

You tug down the front of your top just enough to reveal the rest of the sticky mess and, inadvertently, the valley between your breasts. Carlos watches you drag two fingers through one of the many tiny ropes of frosting and place them in your mouth. His cock stirs at the sight and he finds himself completely mesmerized. You pick up as much as you can, casually cleaning off your digits with your tongue like he's not in your company, mumbling to yourself that at least you didn't do a bad job. Carlos wonders if you'd let him rut his cock between your breasts so he could paint your chest and watch you lap all that up as well. Then the two of you would eat the pancakes you'd made right after and he'd give you a lingering kiss and be on his way.

His eyes dart to the tiny clock on Mr. Coffee. He doesn't have time. With a sigh he sets down his cup and lumbers over to you to plant a kiss to your forehead, doing all he can to avoid looking at your chest any longer lest he ends up being late.

"You're not gonna eat?" You pout up at him and he gives an apologetic smile.

"I gotta go in early today. New recruits. 'Lot of ropes to show."

"Fiiine." You groan dramatically, though he knows you're not actually upset. "Don't go too easy on 'em."

He chuckles and gives you one last kiss to the crown of your head. "You got it, boss."

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The next day, he had found a pair of your panties, the thin kind with a lot of lace embroidered on it, in the back pocket of his pants. He wasn't even the one to notice them first. One of the new recruits had openly pointed at something pink poking out of his pocket, nosy as to what it was. He tugged it out and immediately crushed it in his hand before shoving it back into his pants upon realizing that it wasn’t a handkerchief. The other men snickered amongst themselves and Carlos roughly cleared his throat. "Alright, alright. Settle down."

He called you as soon as he was on his lunch break.

"Any idea how your panties ended up in my back pocket, babe?"

"Hm? My panties?" You sounded genuinely confused over the soft tapping of your fingers on a keyboard.

"Well, they're not mine. Pink and lace aren't exactly my style."

"Ohh!

I was wondering where those went! Must've gotten mixed together during laundry day. I usually wash the intimates separately."

He pulls your underwear back out to look at them. The silky fabric felt soothing against the new callouses sprouting on his palm. He's curious how they might feel wrapped around his rousing cock.

"Guess so..." He mutters to himself.

Your voice cuts through the polluted thoughts filling his mind and he's reminded then by the silent ticking coming from the wall that, once again, he doesn't have the time to find out.

"Is there any chance you could swing by the grocery store after work? We're running low on eggs."

"Sure thing."

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By Wednesday, his suspicions were steadily mounting to almost headache-inducing levels. You had stopped by his workplace to go over paperwork with one of the higher-ups, something boring. Carlos was tasked with helping you pull down some files in one of the archive rooms. He watched you squat down in front of one of the shelves to pull out one of the many brown boxes on the bottom, sifting through its contents. Carlos finds that he really likes you in formal wear. A blazer, dress pants, and heels were a good look on you.

"Carlos, can you reach up there and start pulling down the boxes at the top for me?" You pull him out of his thoughts yet again and he carefully walks over to you, shins gently nudging against your back as he reaches up and grabs a box with both hands.

He keeps up this uniform pace; taking boxes from the top shelf and placing them in a pile to your right while you search the pile you've made beside your left. He's not even entirely sure what you're looking for and he figures he should probably ask. But your exclamation catches him by surprise, as does the way that your body is slotted up against him when you suddenly rise to your feet.

"Oh! I think that's the one!" You take his arms and lower them so they're caging either side of your waist, removing the flimsy top to the box he's still holding. Carlos swallows hard, staring at your hands from over your shoulder as you rummage through the files. Your ass is perfectly pressed right into his crotch, warm and soft. It rubs against him in such an unassuming manner as you shift your hip to one side. You're not even leaning any of your weight into him but he can feel every inch of you through his clothes, licking at the sweat on his skin like fire on gasoline.

There's no way you can't feel how hard he's getting. Just as he starts imagining just how fucking hot it would be if you let him fuck you right up against these shelves in this cramped dingy space, if you let him stuff his now aching cock into you from behind while he uses his fingers to keep you quiet, you're tilting your head up to peck his chin and slipping out of his arms before he can even muster up a single word.

"Found it! Thanks a bunch, babe. I'll be back to help you clean up in a sec!"

You trot out of the room with the files you were looking for, leaving him with a box that was slowly beginning to slip out of his clammy palms and a throbbing hard-on. His groans fill the stuffy room, frustrated and grumpy. When you had returned to help him like you said, the boxes that had been disturbed were put back in their place, though precariously and not alphabetically, and Carlos was nowhere to be found.

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Thursday was the day he was sure he would combust on the spot. You had the day off while he was scrambling to get out of the door on time, somehow managing to snooze through his alarm once sleep had finally found him. While he was in the bathroom briskly scrubbing his teeth, he catches something out of his peripheral vision in the shower, something pale pink and... thick.

He slides the glass door open and nearly spits up all the foaming toothpaste in his mouth. It's one of your toys, a dildo, your favorite one, suctioned to one of the tiles on the shower wall at a particular height. Upon closer inspection, he notices that it's got a glossy wet look to it that he knows isn't water. It looked as if it had just been used.

He could feel his heartbeat in his groin again as he stared at it with his toothbrush dangling between his lips. When did you use it? This morning? You did wake up before he did, and it's not like he could go and ask you about it since you were already gone to take care of errands. He could text or call you, but... He starts to imagine how you must've looked when you decided to play. Hands pressed against the glass, fogged-up with steam, wriggling your pussy back onto the heavy hanging toy while your moans get drowned out by the rushing water crashing down on your dipping back.

Did you think of him while you were fucking yourself? Did you imagine it was his cock instead? Were you breathing his name into the glass so he wouldn't hear you? If you needed to get off so bad, you should've just asked him to take care of you! He would even lay there and let you use him, use his body, his hot cock to chase your pleasure. Ride him all throughout the early morning haze, coming over and over again around him and letting him fill you up with copious amounts of his cum.

He finished brushing his teeth with yet another painful erection that he couldn't take care of because time just wouldn’t allow it. Thoughts of you naked and writhing beneath him, fervently sucking him off, peering over your shoulder at him with that knowing smirk as his hips slam into the plump flesh of your ass are all that flood his head for the rest of what felt like the longest day of the week for Carlos.

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After another tedious and grueling day of work, he was ready to go home and enjoy a nice relaxing weekend with you. Friday could've come sooner but he was too exhausted to complain, too eager to get inside and wash off the sweat and grime of the day. He stumbles through the door and his eyes are scanning the apartment for you almost instantly.

"Babe? You home?" He calls out, toeing off his boots by the door.

"In the bedroom!" Your voice echoes from down the hall, a sound he's quick to follow despite the fatigue setting in his body. When he finds you, the sight is enough to have him quietly groaning to himself, something familiar churning in his lower belly.

"Hey! How was work?" You ask cheerfully, naturally, as if you weren't just laying in bed on your belly reading a magazine, wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves rolled up to your shoulders, and some panties. The very same ones that had found their way into his pocket on Tuesday.

"Fine." He mutters though he isn't sure if you even heard him.

You toss the magazine onto the end table next to the bed and hop up onto your knees to stretch your arms above your head with a soft sound of exertion. His eyes never leave the sight of the sheer rosy fabric framing your ass.

"I just got off a few hours ago. It was such a slow day. But, T.G.I.F., right?"

You slide off the mattress and saunter towards the door, your arm brushing across his and you swear you feel him tense up at such a passing touch. A quiet current flowing through a tightly wound wick that was ready to ignite at the smallest spark.

���I’m gonna take a shower.”

His hand grabs your wrist and holds you in place for the merest of seconds before he whips you around to face him. “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

The look of surprise you give is authentic enough to have him second-guessing himself. Your blinking eyes, tilting head, and questioning hum almost dry up all the grounds for such a snap interrogation.

“I thought that maybe you really weren’t paying attention that morning when you got frosting all over your chest. And maybe you really did get our laundry mixed up cause there’s no way you could’ve slipped your panties into my pants without me knowing. But your little stunt at the office? And leaving your toy out in the bathroom where you knew I would see it? And now this?”

He gestures at his shirt hanging off your body, barely covering the lace culprit he had mentioned. “I’m startin’ to think that these little coincidences aren’t actually so coincidental.”

The look you give him could best be described as cat-like. A cat who rolled her red ball of yarn wherever she went with her tail held high cause she knew a certain someone would inevitably get snagged in her threads. And he was the big cute puppy she had banked on who got all tangled up.

“It took you this long to come to that conclusion, huh?”

The look on his face you would describe as utterly dumbfounded. Whether it was because of your overtly bold confession to his allegations or the fact that you weren’t coyly trying to deny it like he must’ve thought you would, you weren’t really sure.

“It started out as a coincidence that Monday morning, I’ll give you that much. But after I saw how riled up you got because of it -and don’t try to act like you hid it well- I just wanted to see how far I could take this little experiment before you caught on.”

You easily slipped your wrist from his hand, slowly slinking back inch by inch toward the door. “And especially since we were both gonna be too busy and tired through the week to even do anything, I thought it would be fun to keep you all hot and bothered for me until the weekend when we could let loose.”

You pause in the doorway, watching his expression. Heat had flooded his face, all the way to the tips of his ears though his hair did a good job hiding that. He looked like he was still processing all the details, seemingly at a loss for words at the moment. You took the opportunity to pull off his shirt, leaving you completely bare to him sans those damnable panties.

“I really am surprised it took until the end of the week for you to figure me out. And you’re accusing me of being the oblivious one?”

Whatever words he did manage to find come out in a splutter, the flush on his cheeks clouding over. His eyes follow the curve of your spine when you turn your back to him and playfully wiggle your hips.

“C’mon, puppy. You scrub my back and I’ll scrub yours. And maybe I’ll even show you how I used that toy of mine yesterday.”

The look you give him and those tacked on odds is ultimately what propels him forward, scooping you up into his arms and giving your shoulder an impish bite, relishing the taste of your skin and the sounds of your squeals and giggles as he carries you toward the bathroom.

He snarls into your ear, "You’re in for one hell of a weekend, fox."