#sorry if it looks so rushed i wanted it to be done today but i got home a little late /_^; | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nicksolemnlyswears · 10 months ago

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THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader

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parfaitblogs · 3 months ago

Text

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making.

Except for you.

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during.

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work.

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears.

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered.

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag.

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more.

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly.

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink.

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in).

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you.

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear.

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready.

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there.

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question.

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not."

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk.

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled.

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him.

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut.

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours.

But you were yet to kiss.

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable.

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him.

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you.

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze.

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head.

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down.

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh.

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing.

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead.

"No. We haven't," he agreed.

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips.

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him.

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'.

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks.

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again.

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#spencer reid: throughout the years ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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beingsuneone · 1 year ago

Text

I BET You Think About Me

SYNOPSIS: being Theo’s girlfriend is a dream… until you find out why he asked you out in the first place.

FANDOM: Harry Potter

PAIRING(S): Theodore Nott x fem!reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Snape

GENRE/AU: Snape’s Daughter!Reader, Asks you out cause of a bet, kind of angsty, kind of fluffy, slytherin!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: swearing and kissing.

A/N: agh. It’s 3 in the morning. Enjoy. May have a tiny bit of pacing issues but it’s fine

DEDICATIONS: the polls who decided they wanted Theo while I decided I was gonna post Mattheo and Rhysand instead.

CREDITS: n/a

…Six Months Ago….

——————————————————————————

“You can’t do it, Theo.” Draco says plainly. “If she’s anything like her father she won’t be able to feel that kind of emotion.”

Theo shakes his head. “She’s still a girl.”

Mattheo snorts, Enzo sputters. “That’s a bit sexist, Theo.” Enzo says, looking over at Y/n L/n.

She’s Severus Snape’s daughter and completely untouchable. Theo hasn’t seen a single guy going out with her in the whole six years they’d been at hogwarts.

That might be because of her father.

“Draco’s right.” Mattheo says. “She’ll never fall for you.”

“I’m gonna prove you guys wrong and you’re gonna owe me a shit ton of money for it.”

…. One Month Ago ….

——————————————————————————

Mattheo stares at you as you walks away. “Damn, I guess you were right.” Both him and Draco reach for their wallets but Theo waves them off.

“I don’t want it— any of it.” It felt for him wrong to take the money from the bet. Theo had fallen for you just as hard— if not harder— as you’d fallen for him.

Hell, Theo would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked him.

“What do you mean?” Blaise asks incredulously. “You won the bet.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows. “Whatever, I don’t want the money.”

They all stare at him.

One, two, three minutes of silence before Mattheo blurts out: “Oh my god. Theo fell for her.” He starts to laugh, and the other boy's eyes widen.

“Wow. That’s a little bit pathetic, Theo.” Draco teases.

Pansy slides in beside Blaise. “Wow. Famous playboy Theodore Nott fell for someone?” She snickers. “Who?”

Theo deadpans. “What do you mean who?” You are Pansy’s roommate after all, Pansy should better than anybody.

Her face falls. “You don’t mean y/n. do you?” Theo nods and she gives him an exasperated look. “Theo! You literally only dated her to win a bet!”

“Yeah, I know!” He retorts. A beat of silence, then, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You have to tell her.” Enzo cuts in. “If you truly like her, it isn’t something you can keep secret.”

Theo nods his head absentmindedly. “I know, I know. I’ll tell her soon.”

He didn’t want his new relationship to end before it ever began.

….Present….

——————————————————————————

Today, you woke up late, stubbed your toe on your bed and then spent the ten minutes you had to get ready looking for your damned potions book.

When you’d finally found it, threw on your uniform and got your hair into some sort of presentable, you rushed out your dorm and down the hallways as fast as your feet would take you.

Your class was on the opposite side of Hogwarts and you were already ten minutes late.

In your haste, you aren’t watching for other people in front of you and run straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim frantically, picking up your books as she picks up hers.

She looks familiar but you don’t know her name.

“No, it’s okay— Oh.” Her faces twists into a scowl when she meets your gaze. “You’re Theo’s ‘Girlfriend’” she airquotes as she says ‘girlfriend’, causing you to narrow your eyes at here.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Uhm, yeah, I am. Why did you say it like that?”

She crosses her arms. “Because you and I both know that he doesn’t actually like you. You’re not his girlfriend.”

“And who, exactly, are you?” You ask, annoyance settling in your chest.

She looks down at you, a cocky expression written on her face. “You should probably just stay away from him, you know that, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, he’s going to be mine so I don’t even know what you’re doing.” She waves you off, as if she truly believes this.

You shuffle your books around in your arms and shift your weight into your other leg. “You do know that you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, and you still don’t know her name. “Doesn’t matter if he calls you his girlfriend, it’s not like you’re a threat anyway.”

What does she mean ‘not a threat’? You feel like that’s a sentence better used to describe her considering, you’re Theo’s actual girlfriend. “What is that supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously but still relatively calm.

She gives you a mock sympathetic expression. “Oh, Sweetheart,” She starts, taunting you with each syllable. “You didn’t really think someone like Theo would settle down for someone like you… do you? I mean, he’s all parties and good times and you’re… well, you can’t even dress yourself properly.”

She looks you up and down, from your half-untucked uniform shirt to your loose tie and your unwrinkled skirt. You’re not usually this messed up. “Clearly, I do, because he did.” You pause, sigh deeply and roll your eyes. “Why am I even entertaining this conversation?” You turn away from her, preparing to tune her out and walk away.

She tuts, shaking her head. “Because you obviously know you mean nothing to him— after all when your relationship starts with a bet, I don’t think it’s ever been super stable.”

This makes you stop and turn back to her. “A bet?” You say it slowly and the words taste awful on your tongue. “What bet?”

She scoffs-laughs and smiles evilly. “Oops, did I say too much?”

Theo chooses this moment to walk up behind the two of your . He slides his hand around my waist, letting it rest there as he stands beside me. “Are you okay? You’re super late.” He asks, looking you over. His eyes flit over to the girl who was talking to you and his nose scrunched. “Why are you talking to Tracey?”

Tracey, that’s her name.

I don’t think he likes her too much.

Tracey opens her mouth to respond but I cut her off and begin dragging Theo away. “I don’t even know, Theo, let’s go.”

I can feel Tracey’s glare until we’re well out of her line of sight.

Jealous.

……

You can’t get Tracey’s words out of your head. You know it was a tactic to rile you up and, you suppose, it worked but you had this horrible feeling that maybe she wasn’t lying.

Asking Theo about it though? That was hard; you didn’t want him to think you didn’t trust him but you also didn’t want to get upset before you knew whether it was true or not.

You decided to ask one or two other people before Theo. Pansy Parkinson, was first. She’s been your friend since first year but she hung out with Theo’s group long before you ever did.

“Hey, Pansy.” You say airily. She looks up at you and smiles.

The bed creaks as you fall down onto it and sigh. “Can I ask you a random question?” You ask, fidgeting with the corner of your blankets.

She looks up at you expectantly but also with a good deal of worry. “Yeah, of course; What’s up?”

She shifts in her spot at the end of her bed, turning her full attention to me.

“Did you ever… I don’t know,” you stop, trying to find the correct words. “Did you ever hear anything about Me, Theo and a bet? While you were, like, hanging out with them.”

Pansy looks down at your fidgeting fingers and then furrows her eyebrows. She thinks about it for a minute, and her face drops so slightly I almost don’t catch it. “Oh, y/n…” she trails off. “He didn’t tell you?”

Every muscle in your body locks up. “He didn’t tell me what?” You don’t think you really want the confirmation now that you know it’s coming.

Pansy stands and then sits down next to you and pulls you into her in a side hug. “When Theo started trying to get with you it was because of a bet.” She stops but you just gesture for her to continue. “… I wasn’t actively apart of this conversation so I only got the gist of it but I was there.”

“What was the bet.” You say, with your eyes hot and your throat restricted. Your tone makes it seem like it wasn’t a question.

“The boys bet him that he couldn’t make the next woman he saw fall in love with him by the end of the year.” She gives your a sad smile. “I guess the next woman was you.”

What. The. Fuck. You’re gonna kill him, because he obviously won that goddamn bet already. You give Pansy a quick squeeze and then stand up. “I need to go talk to him.”

Pansy nods and walks back to her own bed, waving bye as you walk through the door.

Your vision is a bit blurry and your hands are shaking with betrayal and anger as you storm away from the girl’s dorms and right through the common room to the boy’s dorms.

When you reach his door, you knock loudly, despite it being late.

Draco answers. He looks you up and down and then turns his back halfway to you. “Theo, your girlfriend is here.”

Theo appears a moment later, an easy smile and his piercing eyes that you want to love so badly right now. He gently moves you back a bit and steps out of the dorm. “Hey, Baby, what’s up?”

You shudder at the pet name and his face drops. “Oh, I don’t know, Theo.”

He pulls you to the other side of the hall and keeps his hands on your arms, comforting both yourself and him. “What’s wrong? Did somebody do something to you?”

The worry on his face seems so genuine, you almost want to believe the bet was a lie— but you’re not that stupid.

“Yeah, Theo, someone hurt me.” You pause. “It was you and your fucking bet.”

He freezes. “Shit. Who told you about that?”

You don’t want to— no, you can’t look in his eyes. “That girl, Tracey, and then Pansy filled in the finer details.” You’re arms are crossed now and he can’t hold you like he was before. “Is that seriously the only thing you care about right now— actually, obviously it would be because I’m just a bet, right?”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Actually,” you continue. “I don’t want to hear it— just, have a good life, Theo. I’d say we’re over but I don’t think we really ever started to begin with.”

You walk away before you second-guess yourself and ignore as he calls your name. He doesn’t run after you, which you’re equally glad for and disappointed by.

God, you don’t think your heart has ever hurt this bad.

…..

You haven’t seen Theo in class for the whole week after you ‘broke up’; you’ve seen glimpses of him outside, always smoking, or eating in the Great Hall but it’s like he’s intentionally missing every class you have together.

He probably is.

He shouldn't have that right. You’re the one who gets to avoid him, he doesn’t get to avoid you.

You’re the one who got played like a violin and ended up battered and bruised.

You don’t see him for most of your days, but, when you do— when you look at him, his eyes are always already on you.

As a result the other Slytherin boys glance at you while he stares, because of how intensely he does so. You can feel his eyes burning holes into you at all times.

You try your best to ignore him as you stand to leave the Great Hall.

A boy stops you near the entrance, you think you recognize him. He’s the same year as you, and pretty nice as far as you know. His name is Lucas, you’re pretty sure.

“Hey.” Lucas says warmly. “How are you?”

He’s a bit close, and you’re sort of backed into the wall. You laugh awkwardly. “I’m alright, um, how are you?”

He smiles. “About the same,” he looks behind him and then back at you, same easy-going smile that isn’t easy the way Theo’s is. “Anyways, I was wondering… since you broke up with Nott, maybe you’d wanna go out sometime? With me?”

“She doesn’t.”

Lucas’s shoulders jump at the sound of Theo’s voice and he backs away from you and spins to look at Theo, whose standing there with a dangerous look on his face.

You glare at him. “Maybe I do want to.” It’s a challenge and Theo knows it.

Lucas sputters. “You know, I actually realized I’m busy, so…” he scrambles off after that you’re left with Theo.

You scowl at him. “Theo, what the fuck?”

“He’s not good enough for you.” He shrugs like he knows what’s good enough for you. Mr. Bet-Winner.

Your heart aches in your chest just looking at him. “And how would you know what’s good enough for me, Theo? because you sure as hell weren’t.”

He scowls now. “I treated you like you were a fucking princess, Y/n, all he would’ve done was treat you like a piece of ass.”

You huff. “A princess, Theo? None of it was even real!” You spin to walk away but Theo catches your wrist and pulls you back; he slips his other arm around your waist and pulls you right to his chest. Your faces almost touch.

Your breath hitches like the traitor that it is.

He pulls your hand up to rest on his chest, where his heart beats hard and erratically. “Does this feel fake to you?” Theo’s fingers dig lightly into your waist. “Do you honestly think that all of that— everything we said and did— meant nothing?”

His breath fans across your face.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s the ice bucket that can save you— but your pride and anger are like the fires of hell; irreparable.

“You took a bet to make me fall for you, Theo, and lucky for you, you won it. How much was I worth, huh?”

He replies almost instantly. “I didn’t take any money, Y/n.” Theo breathes deeply and you feel his chest rise and fall, forcing yours to do the same.

“You— what?” You can feel your resolve cracking, the hope leaking through that somehow you were wrong.

“Let me explain the full story.” He waits for you to give him confirmation; you nod and he continues. “Yes, it started with the bet, and yes, I had never planned for it to last. It was cruel and mean, and I’m sorry. But the thing is, I didn’t anticipate that I would end up falling in love with you right back.” The words feel like a kick to the heart.

“But, on the other hand, how could I not? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you’re intelligent and funny, you laugh at all my stupid jokes. You love potions more than any other class and you’re really good at it too.” He stops. “Y/n, you’re perfect and I’m so, so sorry I never told you— or, even worse, that I did it in the first place.”

Your heart skips several beats. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” You’re at a loss for words.

He just looks you over, trying to assess what’s running through your mind like he always does. “Please forgive me, Y/n. I love you so much it hurts.”

You pull away from him and he reluctantly lets go, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“You’re serious?” You ask quietly. “No bets this time? Nothing you haven’t told me?”

He shakes his head, giving you the saddest, puppy-dog look, unintentionally.

You’re silent for another long moment before, finally, you say: “you love me?”

Theo looks into your eyes. “God, yes.”

“Okay.” You say softly.

He straightens. “Okay, you’ll get back together with me or Okay, I don’t forgive you?”

You hold up one finger and he seems to understand because he pulls you back into him so quickly and presses his lips to mine; you kiss him back, and kind of stand there, kissing, for a long moment. Probably longer than you should’ve.

But you wish he never had to stop.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo x reader #hp characters #x reader #the slytherin boys #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n

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hoshigray · 8 months ago

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I told you I was going to do it and here I am lmao. Any who reader and Toji are bumming on the couch watching a movie within the movie there is a spicy scene involving 69 that is mediocre. It gives reader an idea to make a bet with Toji to see who can last the longest. Toji isn't budging at first but when the reader mentions that they want to do in the same position within the movie (something they never did before) he gladly accepts the challenge. I'll leave the plot and ending up to you love. I know you will work your magic for him.

69 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 .ᐟ | toji fushiguro

hehehe ty jazz, i'll do my best for youuu ☆☆☆

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m! receiving) - 69 position - oral (f! + m! receiving) - impact play (spanking + f! receiving) - overstimulation - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pet names (baby, doll, mama, pretty thing) - mention of saliva/spit. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

“Wow….this movie kinda sucks.”

“Mhm…Aye, y’re the one who wanted to watch this shit.”

“Well, I mean, at least it’s…semi-enjoyable.”

Toji and you were sitting on the couch, winding down in the living room after a nourishing dinner. One of the many things you liked to do with your man was to watch movies, figuring that would be a perfect thing to do during the downtime to chill and huddle with your man. What you didn’t expect, however, was how underwhelming the movie seemed.

It was one of those rated R movies batted around within the year, figuring now would be an ideal time to get to it. Welp, it was entertaining enough for you two to continue watching. Now, being midway through, it’s getting a little frustrating to deal with.

“Oh, okay…” annnnnd now the film has transitioned to an abrupt sex scene….how great. “I guess this is why it’s rated R.”

The sex scene you two were watching was…average at best. You’ve seen way spicier scenes in your life — hell, literal cringey porn you’ve watched with your friends was heavily more explicit than this. There was the rushed kissing, the frantic clothes coming off, no amount of foreplay whatsoever — just heading right into it, exaggerated cries coming from the woman as the guy frantically humps her nude frame.

You observe the scene through a neutral gaze as you lay against Toji’s side, his arm stretched to your shoulder to keep you close. But then, your head tilts when something on the screen catches your attention.

The camera pans to the guy’s face, who’s lying on the bed as the other straddles them, facing his lower half. For a few seconds, you can only see the guy’s face until the camera follows him going closer to the girl’s ass that’s hovered before him. His tongue sticks out before he propels his mouth to her bottom, and her muffled moans can be heard off-screen with his grunts.

Loud, amateur sounds aside, the position sparked something for you to turn and ask the following to your boyfriend: “Hey, Toji?” He hums, feeling the vibration of his voice from your hand on his chest. “Have you ever done that position?”

You can see his eyebrows trench down — not bewildered by your question, but pondering how he could answer truthfully. “Mmm…I think so? Been a long while, though.”

You nod aimlessly with your eyes glued to the screen, hearing the woman’s whimpers get a bit louder as the guy grasps her ass while “eating her out.” The thought of being on top of Toji and his mouth and hands on your body like that, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to remind yourself not to get too—

“Why you ask; ya horny?” Well, you can’t be too modest around this man, huh. You finally turn to look at him, prepared for the smirk he greets you with. A smile is all you reply with. “Sorry, baby, I don’t know about tonight. Kinda tired.”

For a few seconds, you’re on his side. You understand he’s a little fatigued from work today and only wants to chill with his partner. However, a tiny part of you – the devilish cutie side – takes over and slides your hand from his chest. Down to his hard abs covered by his black wife beater, stopping at his clothed inner thigh, resulting in him hitching his breath.

“Tired?” You say in a soft tune, your eyes peering down to your hand as it rubs on his thigh, inching further and further in. You take note of Toji’s fingers tapping on your shoulder – a silent warning. “Are you sure about that?”

“You better move that hand, Y/n.” His body jolts when your hand creeps up to his groin, motioning around it with provocative kneads.

“Hmm, why?” You play coy, placing kisses on the underside of his chin. “You tired of me?”

He throws his head back at your soft lips, attacking his neck while your hand comes to the hem of his sweatpants. A shaky breath is released at the contact of your cold fingers on his warm erection. “Hmmm…could never be tired of you….Ahhh,“ your forefinger swipes around the glans.

“Then what are you so scared of?” You keep pressing on, sucking on his skin under your lips. His length gets firmer under your grasp, veins grazed by your fingertips. “Scared you wouldn’t last longer than me?”

“Ohh, don’t play with me, Y/n,” Toji grunts, the hand on your shoulder grips your cardigan. His erect cock throbs on your palm, and precum begins to leak out from you, playing with the tip. “–Mmmph…I already told you I wasn’t feelin’ it tonight.”

Liar, you say to yourself, noting him breathing slowly while you massage his balls. “Please, Toji?” You ask sweetly to his ear, his hand coming down to your waist as you stroke him off. “I never done that position before, but it looks real fun…I wanna do it with you.”

Toji doesn’t give in easily, looking at you with a raised brow. So you throw in another please with an innocent pout and two bats of the eyes to seal the deal. He chortles; how can he say no to you looking at him like that? “Bet I can make you lose within the first few minutes.”

You beam at him, “Bet I can make you cum first.”

“Y’re not gonna last for very long, princess, I can promise you that.”

A smirk pulls your cheeks. “Let’s try it out then.”

And just like that, with a mutual agreement, the challenge was put to the test.

So here you are, straddling on top of Toji on the living room couch, both your bottoms and his sweats on the cold floor. Your bare ass out in front of him to see as he lies with his head on the couch pillow. Your front facing his legs, and his dick erected for you to lick and suck on.

It started slow in the beginning; Toji massages your asscheeks as you lick around the glans and stroke his girth. “Mmmm, just like that, mama,” he praises, egging you on to take in more of him. Your mouth bobbing up and down his shaft, gradually taking in inch by inch until your mouth reaches the hilt. “Fuuck, feels so good…”

You aren’t forgotten either, Toji starting with slow licks, his tongue lapping your labia. You mewl on his cock, voluntarily moving your hips to satiate the throbs of your cunt. Shit, you love it when he eats you out, but this position makes you turn on even more — unable to see what he’s doing, letting his hands and tongue speak for himself.

And you have to give it to yourself; you mangled to survive for a little while! The first minute was just him warming you up, teasing your folds with swishes to get you real wet as you blow him, his fingers groping your ass as his thumb plays around your ass taint. It all had you riled up, rocking your lower half so much that the man had to station you still for him to feast on your wetness properly.

It wasn’t until you felt his tongue brush up on your clitoris did shit get serious. One sharp, muffled gasp paired with a jolt from your body. Of course, Toji noticed, his grin coming from ear to ear. “Oh, did I do that?” Yes, you did, you bastard. “Heh, you are not ready for this, baby…”

He says this before stuffing his mouth back into your leaky chasm so his tongue could swirl around your slit with vigor so rough that you nearly choked on your gasp for air. “—Oohh!! W–Wait, Toji, not so—Ahhn!” Fast licks have you squirm, prompting your man to keep you on him with his hands on your waist. It’s hard to concentrate giving Toji a blowjob with him nibbling on your labia before throwing more laps on your clitoris.

“Wait, Toji, s-stoop; I’m gonna—Nnaaah!” Your fingers clamp around his girth, howling as he bullies his tongue to enter your vagina, his face buried nose-deep in your ass while sucking on your genitals. “Fuuck, oh shit, I can’t…Ohh, ohhh!!”

And just like that, you release into his mouth before you could even prepare yourself. Your trembling figure jolts with every shock coursing through your body. And Toji drinks your essence with every passing wave, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you straddled above him.

Oh fuck, the clarity you experience is mind-blowing every time he eats you out — whimpers escape pretty lips as your sensitive nerves still receive gingerly laps on your soapy folds. That felt way too good, oh my God…

But it doesn’t stop there — no, no. Not with Toji, too pleased with how he made your legs tremble before him. He snickers while spreading your folds, “Pretty thing, look at you winking at me...Nnmm, so fuckin’ good…”

He brings his mouth back to your cunt, and you jerk from the contact as your body is still not rid of the shocks from the previous orgasm. You frantically call for him, trying to writhe your ass away from him. “Ohhnn, Toji, wait, let me rest for a—Ahhhnn!!“

A sharp pain comes from an abrupt smack to your buttcheek, the skin stinging from the impact of Toji’s hand. “Aht, aht, don’t try and run now. You talked big earlier, even when I warned you.” He smacks your ass again, his fingers digging deep into your flesh to pinch. You scream for him — that’s what he wants. “Now you’re gonna sit right here and let the winner have his fill.”

You can’t argue with him from there; Toji’s hold on you not giving in to your attempts of mercy — same for his mouth on your delicate labia. The noises coming from there are so raunchy, downright erotic, way more than whatever the hell that movie was doing. You could only wail out your cries, eyes spiraling up to your head from every lap to your clit. No point fighting the pleasure, resting your head on his thigh.

But that was short-lived because Toji was quick to correct you with another slap to your butt. Shit came out of nowhere, almost choking on your spit. “C’mon now, doll, you can’t leave me hangin’ here. Suck me off, princess.” He rubs the pain on your butt away, yet you know he’d do it again if you weren’t compliant.

You bring his fat cock back to your face, licking on the tip while stroking him. You take in the head and suck him in, bobbing your head and coating his length with your saliva. Kisses to his glans result in him burrowing his face into your ass again, hungry lips ravishing your tender insides. Jesus, the way his tongue flicks on your clit has you humming on his cock nonstop.

Oh, God, oh fuuuuck, you remove your lips from Toji’s dick, yet your hand keeps gliding up and down. “—Mwah! Hoohhh, oohhh, Tojiiii…! Again, I’m gonna cum, again….Khaa—Ohhhhh!!”

The second orgasm hits you hard, more keenly than the last, and your body quivers on top of Toji once again. Whines come from wet lips as you descend into your haze, and your toes curl as Toji doesn’t withdraw himself until he’s satiated his thirst with every remnant of your fluids.

With every jolt and shock flowing down your frame, you use this time to let your body ride this high out, placing chaste kisses on Toji’s cock. That is until you feel Toji suck on your folds suddenly. You jump and quake, turning around to beg. “Stooohp; let me rest, please!”

He gives you a smug look with a playful smack to your hot, stinging butt. “Done being curious now, mama?”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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luveline · 2 months ago

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hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask.

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.”

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?”

“I’m not sure.”

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.”

“Really?”

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.”

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops.

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.”

“Can I speak to her?”

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.”

“Lay back,” he says.

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy.

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?”

You laugh. He peeks up at you.

“Sorry, it’s just funny.”

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.”

“I won’t laugh again, promise.”

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.”

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again.

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says.

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?”

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m talking to your sister.”

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?”

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?”

“Can I?”

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.”

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle.

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump.

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.”

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.”

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks.

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.”

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?”

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says.

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side.

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says.

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?”

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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miserycanary · 8 months ago

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A FIXED HEART IN YOUR HAND ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

♡⃛ ‘My Hell For Your Love’ alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: is it done? hopeless love? How Ghost is after the break-up

tags: :3..

Ghost swears he’s going crazy. In his eyes, the walls are dimmer and everything seems… out of place. He seems out of place. Not when you’re not there with him. “Fuck,” he grumbles, tilting his head back on the headboard of the bed you used to share with him. He knows it’s disgusting but he hasn’t had the courage to change the bedsheets since that day, too scared he’d forget how you smell. Ever since you came over for the last time to take your things, he lost everything in the apartment that reminds him of you— that reminds you guys happened.

It seems like he’s in a worse state than he thought when even Price came up to him, asking him to hang after work shifts. Ghost knew that he was not in the best state and everyone in the base was muttering about it. Seeing as he had nothing more to lose (you were all he had), he agreed.

The bar was filled with cigar smoke and the smell of cheap liquor. It was bustling with bodies grinding on each other everywhere. He had let himself go but his build still managed to attract stares, often getting hit on by ladies looking for someone to fix their daddy issues. And each time he turns them down until he sees a familiar figure. Like a dog, he chases someone who seems to be you but only to feel a pang of disappointment.

The night seems to pass quickly. He’s suddenly in bed with the girl who looks like you. He knows it’s wrong to play with her, but he needs you— one way or another. It just ended up with him more frustrated. She wasn’t like you. The way she felt, her look, and her voice. Everything was so different.

He didn’t even stay the night, unable to process the fact he laid with someone who wasn’t you. Placing some bills on the bedside table, Ghost takes one more look at her sleeping figure that paints a scowl on his face. Even the way she sleeps wasn’t like you at all. The walk back home was exhausting, with a cigar between his lips and a burden in his heart.

His steps halted when he found himself in the familiar street of your unit. “I’m really going nuts,” he chuckled to himself, peering up to look at your unit that always had its windows open. He was about to risk it all when he heard your laughter and a voice. The sight before him made him lose it. You had a guy over. Someone who doesn’t even look like him! Ghost snaps back when he realizes he let go of his cigar. Looking down at the still burning light, he contemplated. Was it done? Were you gone from him forever? No, right? It’s a one-night stand, convinces himself.

It wasn’t a one-night stand, he realizes. Holding the wedding invitation in his hand 2 years after that. The words printed on the dedication had his stomach churning.

‘To my old friend, Simon,

I invite you to my wedding. Thank you for being with me for many years. You have helped me become who I am today, so I would love if you’ll be there. We promised we’d be with each other during our happiest moment, right?

All love,

Y/N’

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: the last and final part. Go read the alternative ending! Sorry if it’s rushed!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon riley call of duty #ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #canary’s melodies #RUSHED #simon riley #ghost angst

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ohdeerfully · 9 months ago

Note

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.”

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming.

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes.

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response.

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual.

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face.

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angst #TW: child death #child death #ohdeerfully

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shuafiles · 25 days ago

Text

young lust [y.jh]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and jeonghan couldn’t wait until you got home so he pulled over at the side of the road

PAIRING | idol bf!jeonghan x afab!reader

CONTENT | smut with no plot, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (dont), dick riding, nipple play?, slight choking, swearing

WORDS | 1.9k

A/N | heavily inspired by diet pepsi. im so glad jeonghan isnt bald (yet). this is for my girlies who miss him <3 NOT PROOFREAD

you absentmindedly fiddled with jeonghan’s fingers resting on your lap as he chatted with the boys. your mind began to wander as their laughter filled the air, likely over something funny mingyu had done on stage. it was the company dinner, a celebration of their successful concert, and you were more than happy to be invited by jeonghan and the rest of the group. watching your boyfriend interact with the people he cherished most made you smile. his concert makeup was still intact, he had joked about wanting to show you how pretty he looked up close. though you were used to his humor, you couldn’t help but agree—he really did look so pretty.

amid your thoughts, jeonghan’s hand gently slid from your hand to rest on your thigh. you didn’t mind—it was a familiar gesture between the two of you. he always loved holding you in some way, whether it was his hand on your waist or your fingers intertwined. as long as you were beside him, he felt at ease.

"y/n! what did you think of the show today?" seokmin's voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to face him with a smile. you had grown close with the boys over time. after nearly two years of dating jeonghan, it was only natural that you formed a bond with the people who surrounded him the most.

"it was amazing! you guys always—" your words faltered as jeonghan’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your clothed entrance. your eyes widened, and your thoughts derailed completely. seokmin noticed your sudden pause and tilted his head with concern.

"are you okay?" he asked, drawing the attention of several others at the table. all eyes were now on you as your breath hitched, jeonghan’s fingers continuing their slow, teasing glide along your core.

"everything alright, my love?" jeonghan’s voice was sweet, but the mischief in his eyes betrayed his innocence. he knew exactly what he was doing, yet acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. it wasn’t his fault that you walked into the room with a fitted black top that perfectly hugged your body. in fact, you knew he loved it when you wore skirts that flared out with your every move. he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself.

you cleared your throat, shaking your head slightly. “i’m fine, sorry. just a bit under the weather.” worried eyes watched you, but sooner or later, everyone returned to their own conversations. making sure that nobody was paying attention to you, you glared at your boyfriend, who wore a triumphant smile on his face.

jeonghan leaned closer to you, his hands cupping your pussy in the process, making you let out a tiny gasp as warmth flooded your body. “i can’t wait to take you home,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a teasing undertone that made your heart race. his eyes darkened as he stared at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up

as you slipped into the passenger seat of jeonghan’s car, a rush of excitement roared through you. jeonghan settled into the driver’s seat, and as he turned the ignition, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. he turned to face you, grasping your chin between his fingers to place a soft kiss on your lips. body warm in anticipation at the thought of having him. your body leaned closer to him, settling into his touch. he hummed against your lips before pulling away, “let’s get out of here before i can’t control myself.”

the rest of the car ride was pure torture. traffic flooded the streets, and you grew even more frustrated. jeonghan wasn’t helping as he continued to excruciatingly tease you. his hands sliding between your legs, spreading your arousal around your entrance. your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable from the wetness pooling between your legs. at every stoplight, jeonghan would lean over the console to kiss you with such possessiveness, his hand by the nape of your neck just to feel your lips even closer.

“jeonghan,” you breathed out. “i want you now, please.” desperation lacing your voice, jeonghan couldn't help but groan at your needy state.

“hold on, baby.” as soon as the lights turned green, he hit the pedal and pulled up on the nearest empty lot. “get in the back.” your stomach fluttered at his low voice. thank goddess for his spacious car because you hopped in the back with ease, while he stepped out of the car and followed you into the backseat.

you climbed on his lap the second he was seated. lips colliding with one another. his hands roamed your body, sliding the strap off of your top and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. letting the cloth fall, his lips attached to your neck instantly. one of his hands reaching for your breast, giving it a light squeeze before his fingers took hold of your nipple, circling the bud with his index finger and thumb.

“so fucking beautiful.” jeonghan whispered against your skin before entrapping the other nipple in his mouth. moans escaped your lips as your hand flew out to grip his hair, pulling on the strands, which made him grunt against your breast.

you feel his cock grow stiff beneath you, making you grind your hips against his. he pulled away from your nipple, making a light pop sound, before returning his lips to your mouth. his tongue caressing your lips before pushing it between to meet your tongue. you sighed in contentment, pushing your body towards him even more. you felt his hands pull your skirt up your thighs, your soaked underwear on full display for him.

jeonghan pulled his lips away from you, making you frown. he grabbed the hem of his shirt before lifting it off his body and discarding it somewhere in the car. he lifted your hips so that you were hovering above his legs. “how much do you love this pair?” his tone was mischievous as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your lacy underwear.

“i could always just get a new one.”

“good girl.” he smirked before gripping the fabric with his fingers and ripping them apart. you gasped at his actions, not expecting him to be so rough. his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and satisfaction as he admired his work, the now-torn underwear fully exposing your pussy to him.

“i could’ve just taken them off!” you swatted his shoulder, but he only laughed.

“where’s the fun in that?” his hands made their way to the button of his pants, undoing it before sliding the fabric down his thighs, leaving him in his boxers. his cock strained against his underwear, the tip peeking over the waistband, leaving your mouth watering at the sight. you sat back down on his thigh, hand palming him through his boxers. grabbing the waistband of his underwear, you pulled it down with the rest of his pants. his cock sprang against his stomach, tip red, and veins showing all over. “need to get you ready for my cock, princess.”

jeonghan spread his legs, leaving the space below your pussy open. his fingers reaching for your entrance, making you gasp and rest your head on his shoulder. his digits spreading your arousal through your folds before pushing two of them inside you.

“fuck!” you cried out once you felt him curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly. he knew exactly how to make you feel good. you grind your hips down to meet his hand, desperate for any kind of friction.

jeonghan tutted at your movement, a cocky grin plastered on his face, “so wet for me, baby.” he teased, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a painfully slow manner.

pulling your head away from his shoulder, you glared at him. “jeonghan, please,” you whined, “stop teasing me and just fuck me already.”

he chuckled at your plea, pulling his fingers from your cunt and leaning back against the seat. “my pretty girl, so needy for my cock.” he wrapped his hand around his cock, your slick transferring from his fingers to his length as he pumped himself. “c’mere.” he grasped your waist, lining up your entrance to his cock.

jeonghan rubbed the tip along your folds, grasping his shoulders, you slowly sank onto his cock. you moaned at the feeling of his length expanding your walls. he watched as you bit your lip, face twisting in discomfort and pleasure.

“slowly, baby.” his voice soothed you. soon enough, discomfort turned into pure pleasure, feeling his entire cock inside you.

“oh god, hannie.” you whimpered. his hands fell to your ass, gripping the skin as you slowly began to bounce on his cock. he hissed when you circled your hips, your pace getting faster once you got used to his size.

jeonghan helped you by meeting your thrust, lifting his hips to thrust into yours. your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you held onto him for assistance. gasping at every bounce you did as his cock perfectly kissed your cervix.

“you feel so good, pretty girl, fuck.” jeonghan moaned, eyes trained on your breasts as they bounced along with your movement. he brushed your hair away from your neck, exposing the skin to him, and he couldn’t help but latch his mouth to your chest, sucking and licking the supple skin. toes curling at the sensation, you picked up your pace, relentlessly fucking yourself with his cock. each thrust, leaving you craving more.

jeonghan pulled your body close to him, chests pressing against each other. legs burning from the constant movement, you halted for a second before proceeding to grind yourself on him. his cock deep inside you as you continued to move your hips.

“fuck! i’m so c-close, hannie.” you cried out. rocking your hips in a quick manner. feeling your stomach tighten.

“that’s it, baby,” he whispered, loving the way you’re using his cock to make yourself feel good. his hand reached up to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure. “say you love me, princess.” you gasped as his other hand fell to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. “say it.”

“i-i love you! oh my god, i love you so much.” your face scrunching up from his touch. “please, i want to cum, jeonghan!”

“look at me, and i’ll let you cum.” your eyes locked to him. the moonlight perfectly shining on his face, seeing a smile form on his lips as you tried to keep your eyes open. his finger working on your clit. “my perfect girl, let it out, cum all over my cock.”

as if it was on his command, your vision turned white as you came all over his lap, cursing his name in the process. nearly ripping his skin off as your grip on him tightened. feeling you clench around his cock made him release inside you. his warm cum spreading across your walls.

your body collapsed, head falling on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath. feeling his hand lazily dragging itself up and down your back to console you. you cringed at the feeling of fluids dripping out of you and onto the seat of the car.

in one sudden movement, jeonghan lifted your body before thrusting you back down, making you yelp. “keep my cum inside, princess, unless you want me to fill you up even more.”

#yoon jeonghan #seventeen #svt #jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 month ago

Note

I’ve been binge reading your emt polymarauders. And I gotta tell you ! It’s like sipping a nice lemonade on a summer day. Oh my…

I’m a medical student so I loooooove this prompt so much. I couldn’t sleep tonight because biochemistry has been rotting my brain. Ugh

Anyways,

I had an idea, could you maybe make a reader who’s in her first year of med school and she’s so stressed. The boys try to ease her a little but she doesn’t listen and itch closer to burnout. Until she starts to feel unwell and comes out of her study to drink water. But before she can react she passes out and the boys rush to help.

(Totally not happened to me once in front of almost 30 3rd years. Nooooo.)

Hope you like the idea ❤️

Thanks babe, I'm glad you enjoy them! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: academic stress, fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“What nerve supplies the posterior arm and forearm?” Remus asks you.

The words are beginning to sound like gibberish. “The, um…the radial nerve.”

“Well done.” Remus sets your flash card atop a stack. There are three of them, ones you know well, ones you’re still shaky on, and ones you’ve not got a clue about. This card goes in the first stack. It’s small enough that every addition feels like a victory.

Your boyfriends have been kind enough to bring you lunch at the library. It was quickly revealed as a plot to try and coax you into taking a break, but when that clearly wasn’t working they decided to stay awhile and keep you company. You have a reading room all to yourself today, so James has made himself comfortable on the couch and Sirius has laid his head down in his lap, content to have his hair played with while James watches you and Remus study.

“And which carpals communicate with the radius?” Remus asks.

“Um…”

“Think carefully,” Sirius says in his TV host voice. “This one’s for full points.”

You blink. You feel suddenly odd. Off-kilter. “There’s two,” you say slowly. “Lunate and…um…”

“Can we do hints?” James asks.

You’d rather not, but you feel like you need it. “Sure.”

“Alright.” Remus glances down at your card. “It starts with an s.”

“I know it.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I had this one yesterday. It’s like sca…sca something. Sorry, I feel like I can’t concentrate.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” Remus asks gently.

You sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

“It’s lunate and scaphoid.”

You groan, pushing your fingers into your forehead. “I knew that.”

“It’s alright.” Remus sets the card in the middle stack. He’s watching you carefully. “Do you think it’s time for a break?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath. “I feel weird, I think…” You pick up your water bottle, but it’s light, empty. “I’m going to go get some water.”

Remus’ eyes are sympathetic. “Good idea, dove.”

The feeling worsens when you stand, like the change in altitude is making you light-headed. You take two steps. The first wobbles, the second sinks.

You don’t remember passing out. There’s no darkening of your vision or panicky realization, just one second your knee is bending unbidden and the next the trampled fibers of the library carpet are smushed against your face.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” It takes you a second to recognize the feel of hands under your head and ribcage, but that’s James’ voice. The knees of Remus’ trousers are in front of your face. “What’d you do that for?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumble.

“Let’s get you on your back,” says Remus.

He and James work together to rotate you gently, and then you have a better view of the room. Remus and James kneeling above you, Sirius standing behind them with a look of wide-eyed horror. It appears each of your boyfriends has jumped up in a fright.

“Do you feel warm?” Remus brushes some hair away from your face while James picks up your wrist to get your pulse and Sirius launches into action, kneeling by your feet.

“Not really…” You startle as your legs pick up off the floor. “Sirius, my skirt!”

“It’s just us here, doll,” Sirius reminds you. “I promise to protect your modesty if anyone comes in, whatever the cost.”

You frown at what he could mean by that, but Remus thumbs over your cheek placatingly. “Is there anywhere around here that might have sports drinks?”

“Um, there’s a vending machine downstairs.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back shortly.” He gives your cheek a quick hold before leaving.

James kisses your palm once he’s done with your pulse, and then his fingers find the collar of your shirt, popping open the first two buttons with practiced ease.

Your hand flies up to prevent him going further. “Why does everyone keep trying to undress me?”

James laughs, and Sirius replies smoothly, “Why, is this not a good time for you?”

“Take it easy, lovie.” James takes your hand, holding it in his own. “We’re just making sure all the blood that wants to go to your brain can get there.”

“Oh.” You knew that. Or you should’ve, if your brain was working properly.

“If it’s somewhat risque in practice, I certainly don’t mind as much with you as I do with the old blokes we sometimes get.” Sirius winks at you.

You offer up a weak smile in return, and he pouts.

“How’re you feeling, sweetness?”

“I’m alright.” You take a breath. “Can I sit up now?”

“Let’s give it a bit.” James rubs your shoulder. “How do you really feel?”

“Just…weird. Shaky. But not too bad.”

“That’s good,” he says, though he looks like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“I think I’ll be fine once I get something to drink.”

“Mm, I think there’s probably a bit more to it than that,” Remus says as he comes back in. He crouches beside you, twisting the top off a bottle of orange juice. “That is a very well-stocked vending machine. Do you feel ready to sit up, dove?”

“I have been,” you say. “They won’t let me.”

“Such ingratitude,” Sirius teases as he sets your feet back down. “We were only waiting for your juice.”

James helps you up with a hand on your back, and it takes a second of wordless wrestling with Remus to get him to let you bring the bottle to your own lips.

“You could be dehydrated,” he says as you drink, “or you could just be exhausted, or both. And you can faint from too much stress too, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble, wiping your mouth.

Remus takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. You find your indignance shrinking under his steady gaze. “You hurt yourself when you push yourself this hard, sweet girl.”

“I know,” you say, softer now. “I thought I could handle it.”

“You need to take more breaks.”

You nod slightly.

“And work on putting less pressure on yourself.”

“Alright, Rem, lay off her.” Sirius rubs your knee. It breaks you from Remus’ trance, and your dark-haired boyfriend flashes you a smile when you look his way. “She’s got enough going through her head without having to remember all you want her to do. Let’s go home, yeah?”

James insists on supporting you while you walk out of the library. Sirius and Remus debate what film you should put on once you get back to your flat.

“Shouldn’t I get to choose?” you ask.

“Well, look who’s feeling up to asking questions.” Sirius gives your cheek a condescending little pat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re really ready to be picking out films, my love. Your decision making is probably still impacted from that fainting spell.”

“Really.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ve never heard of that side effect.”

“Well, you’re only a first year, doll. There’s lots you don’t know.”

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months ago

Text

Very first - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Request: First time with Lewis. I had 5 requests for that and I hope I did it justice (sorry for how long it took for a couple of those requests)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, all sorts.

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +5K

a/n: Haven't written in first person in so long, but all the drafts felt better like this. Also, it's huge, ops. Hope you guys like it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

It was easy with him, too easy maybe, but that's what made it so damn nice.

“So,” I started, turning to him with a half-smile. “You want to come up?”

We’d spent the morning driving through the countryside, talking about everything and nothing—his races, my job, the ridiculousness of the price of avocados.

His eyes met mine, and I could see the question there, like he was trying to read me. “You sure?”

It was cute that he was being cautious, but come on, we both knew why I was asking. I nodded, keeping my voice light. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the countryside air or just the fact that we had spent the day away from the madness of London, but today felt different.

Calmer, somehow.

I led him up the stairs to my apartment, trying not to think too much about how it had been a while since I’d let anyone in here.

Literally and figuratively.

“Welcome to my humble abode” I said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

He hesitated in the doorway, taking it all in.

My place was small, but it was mine—books, plants, a blanket that I was probably too attached to. It wasn’t flashy like the places he was used to, but I liked that about it.

“Nice place,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“It does the job” I replied with a shrug, kicking off my shoes. “Make yourself at home.”

He followed suit, slipping off his sneakers and setting them neatly by the door. “It suits you. Feels… grounded.”

I let out a soft laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

He leaned against the counter as we headed into the kitchen to grab some water.

But when handed him the glass, and our fingers brushed, it was fireworks all over again. God, how was I still reacting like a teenager with a crush?

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “So, today was fun.”

“It was,” I agreed, taking a drink to give myself something to do with my hands. “It’s nice to get out of the city for a bit. The countryside’s got this whole other vibe.”

“Yup” he said, setting his glass down. “Nice to just… let it go.”

“Even from the racing?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Especially from the racing,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

There was a beat of silence, and I could feel the shift in the air between us, that tension that had been simmering since our last date starting to bubble up again.

The last time… well, things had gotten pretty heated until his phone rang, snapping us both out of it.

It was a close call, but I’d pulled back, sticking to my rule. No rushing into things. I’d done that before, and it never ended well.

But this time, he was making it very hard for me to stick by that rule.

I wanted him, and from the way he was looking at me, I’d take a pretty good guess he wanted me too.

I took a step closer, letting my hand find his. That simple touch was all it took for the tension to skyrocket, and before I knew it, we were closing the distance between us, lips crashing together in a kiss that was anything but tentative.

His hands were on my waist, pulling me closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

God, the man could kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were, who you were, and why you ever thought not doing this was a good idea. His lips were soft, but the way he kissed me was anything but.

There was urgency there, a hunger that only fueled into my own, and I could feel it in every brush of his lips, every tug of his fingers on my shirt.

I pressed myself against him, deepening the kiss as I let my hands roam up his back, memorizing the feel of him.

The muscles there were as solid as they looked, and I couldn’t help but think that this man was literally built for this kind of thing.

I mean, I had the image of what he looked like shirtless—hell, half the world did—but feeling it under my fingers was a whole different story.

He let out a low groan against my lips, and I was losing myself in the kiss, in him, and for a second, I almost didn’t care about anything else. Almost.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. “Y/n…”

The way he said my name, low and rough, made me want to pull him back in and never let go.

But there was something in his voice that made me pause.

“Yeah?” I whispered, my hands still resting on his shoulders, my eyes closed shut.

“I just… I don’t want to rush you” he said, his voice soft but serious. “I know last time… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again.

Damn, he was really being careful, wasn’t he? But I appreciated it. More than I’d probably let on.

“Lewis” I started, taking a breath. “I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

He studied me for a moment, like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. Not this time.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I nodded, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw tentatively. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all it took.

He kissed me again, and this time, there was no holding back.

And damn, if it wasn’t about time.

We barely made it through the hallway before his lips found mine again, pressing me against the wall with just the right amount of pressure.

God, he was good at this. I could feel the heat between us, the urgency in his touch making it clear where this was heading.

“Bedroom?” I mumbled against his lips, not really wanting to break the kiss but knowing we couldn’t just do this against the wall like teenagers.

Although, thinking it back the idea didn’t sound so bad.

As soon as we stepped inside his eyes landed on the teddy bear sitting in the middle of my bed. Of course.

“What’s this?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pointed to the bear.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to let him see how much I loved that he was trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s Mr. Bear, and he’s not going anywhere, so you’ll just have to deal.”

“Mr. Bear?” He picked it up, inspecting it like it was some kind of artifact. “Well, I guess I’ll have to make sure he approves.”

“He’s a tough cookie” I quipped, crossing my arms and giving him a look. “But you might want to focus on impressing me instead.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he murmured, setting the bear down gently on the bedside table before turning back to me, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something much more intense.

He stepped closer, his hands finding the hem of my shirt. “Can I…?”

I sighed, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Lewis, if you ask me for permission one more time…”

He grinned, but there was something softer behind it. “Just making sure, love”

“I know,” I cut him off, my voice softer too. “But trust me, I want this. I want you.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, slipping his hands under my shirt and lifting it over my head.

His fingers grazed my skin, causing goosebumps down my skin as he took his time, clearly trying to be as gentle as possible, maybe even allowing for the time for me to back off.

It was sweet, really, but I was starting to get impatient.

“Lewis,” I said, a warning in my voice.

He chuckled, his hands moving to the waistband of my jeans. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop asking.”

“Good” I muttered, stepping out of my jeans as he slid them down my legs.

When I was finally standing in just my lingerie, his eyes roamed over me, and I could see the want—was it also awe? —in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” I said, my voice teasing as I reached for the hem of his shirt.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine with a tense stare.

“That you’re fully dressed” I replied, tugging at his shirt. “Especially when half the world uses your abs as gym inspiration.”

He laughed then; a deep, genuine sound that made my heart skip a beat. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

He raised his arms, letting me pull the shirt over his head. And yeah, the man was every bit as ripped as I had imagined.

I already knew what was under there, but damn, it was something else to see it up close like this.

And the tattoos. Those damn tattoos.

I ran my hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, and he watched me with that same intense gaze, like he was studying every move I made.

It was intoxicating, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered at that second.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Much” I whispered, my fingers trailing down to his abs, feeling them tense under my touch.

His breath hitched slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile.

It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling a little overwhelmed by this. He might be Lewis Hamilton, but right now, he was just a guy standing in front of me, and I was the one making him nervous.

He softly guided my chin up and smiled, that stupidly soft and loving smile, before leaning into my lips, my hands exploring his back, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach.

He took his time though, his hands sliding up my sides to my back, and only then pausing at the clasp of my bra.

With his lips still hovering over mine he breathed into me. “Can I…?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yes, Lewis. You can.”

And with that – and with his lips back on mine – he undid the clasp, letting the bra fall away as his hands moved over my now bare skin

Finally. And damn, if I wasn’t loving every second of it.

His lips started to trail from my collarbone down to the swell of my breasts, taking detours to worship every inch of skin he found on the way.

By the time his mouth reached my belly, I was practically trembling with anticipation.

When his fingers brushed the lace of my underwear, I couldn’t help the hiss that escaped my lips.

He paused, looking up at me with those deep, dark eyes that seemed to see right through me. Without a word, he moved back up to capture my mouth with his, as if soothing the impatience brewing inside me.

And I was impatient. The slow, deliberate pace was driving me insane, and he knew it.

I kissed him back hard, my hands roaming down his sides until they found the waistband of his boxers.

I was more than ready to speed things up, and as I slipped my hand under the fabric, I was pleasantly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Guess the rumors weren’t exaggerating,” I murmured against his lips, my fingers brushing over his length.

He responded with a low growl, one hand angling my head as he kissed me again, harder this time, effectively shutting me up.

But he never stopped me from continuing my exploration. I traced the outline of his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched under my touch.

Knowing I could get this kind of reaction from him was a high I probably wouldn’t get over for a minute.

When he finally broke the kiss, I met his gaze, silently asking for permission to go further. “It’s all yours, babe.” He chuckled, a sound that made me want to attack him and hide all at once.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down.

The moment his dick sprang free, I couldn’t help the way my breath caught in my throat.

He wasn’t impossibly long, but he was definitely above average, and the girth—God, the girth—was enough to make my pulse quicken.

He was watching me, of course, catching every flicker of reaction on my face.

When he noticed my wide-eyed surprise, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. His smile was warm, reassuring even “We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded, grateful for his patience even as it frustrated me. I returned his smile, my fingers wrapping around his length. His breath hitched the moment I touched him, and I couldn’t help but bat my eyes at him playfully.

“Gosh, you’re trouble” he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

I grinned, taking my time as I began to pump him, feeling the weight and heat of him in my hand.

When I reached the tip, I leaned down to press a kiss there, delighting in the way he shivered at the contact.

“Sensitive here, huh?” I teased, looking up at him.

Whatever retort he had in mind was lost when he dragged me back up to his lips, his hands firm on my hips as he effortlessly maneuvered me onto the bed, pressing my back against the headboard.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine. “I’m good, love. But we need to make sure you’re ready” he murmured, his statement a promise to my ears.

Before I could respond, his mouth was on me again, trailing kisses down my body with single-minded focus.

When he reached my inner thighs, he took his time kissing through the fabric of my lace underwear, and I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips.

“Don’t tease,” I breathed, hating how desperate I sounded.

He giggled—that soft, infectious sound that I’d grown to love. “Just making sure” he whispered, his fingers hooking around the strings on my hips, slowly pulling the lace down and off.

As he finally took in the sight of my exposed cunt, his expression shifted into something almost reverent, like he was savoring the moment. He leaned down, leaving featherlight kisses on my outer lips, the gentle touch driving me wild.

“Lewis” I groaned, the frustration in my voice clear. “Please.”

He smiled against my skin, his breath hot against my thigh. “Patience, love. I’m just getting started.”

The first tentative lick sent a shockwave through my body, and my hands immediately grabbed at the sheets, fingers curling tight.

Every nerve on me was on fire, heightened by the slow, deliberate pace he was setting.

And just when I thought I might float away, he hooked an arm around my hips, anchoring me in place. His other hand found mine, fingers intertwining, as if he needed to connect with me anymore.

His eyes never left mine, and even if I wanted, I couldn’t really stop watching as his tongue lapped up my clit. A gasp escaping my lips as the pleasure spiked through me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, barely coherent.

He continued, his tongue moving with just the right pace, not rushing, just giving me enough to keep me teetering on the edge.

When he felt I was wet enough, he let go of my hand, moving it down to tease at my entrance with a single digit.

“I’ll need words from here, love” he murmured, his voice muffled. “Tell me what you like.”

“Don’t stop,” I managed to say, my voice shaky, almost pleading. “Just—don’t stop.”

With a grin, he slid a single finger inside me, his own hiss vibrating through the room as he felt my walls.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed, a note of awe in his voice. “This is gonna be heaven.”

He took his time, exploring with just that one finger, feeling around until he found the spot that had me squirming under him. When he hit it, I couldn’t help the moan that tore from my throat, my hips bucking involuntarily.

“Found it” he said with a satisfied smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

Then he added a second finger, the light stretch already making me gasp.

He started a scissoring motion, opening me up, getting me ready. All the while, his tongue didn’t let up, lapping at my clit in perfect rhythm, just enough to keep me on edge without pushing me over.

The wet sounds filled the room, mingling with my ragged breathing and his low murmurs of praise.

He was studying me, like he was learning exactly how to make me fall apart under him.

After what felt like an eternity of this sweet torment, he finally pulled back, sitting on his heels.

I watched as he switched to his middle and ring fingers, angling them just right before sliding back into me.

The feeling was delicious, and when he curled his fingers and found that spot again, I cried out, my hips lifting off the bed.

“Easy” he murmured, his free arm holding me in place as he started a relentless up-and-down motion.

His thumb brushed over my clit, making my breath caught in my throat and my head spin.

I was completely at his mercy, the pleasure building and building until I could hardly breathe.

The wet noises from where his fingers worked inside me were obscene, mingling with the desperate little sounds I couldn’t hold back.

He kept on the soft praises, but they were swallowed by my moans as I got closer and closer to the edge.

And then it hit.

My vision went white, and all I could do was hold onto his arm on his hips, feeling the waves of pleasure crash over me again and again. My whole body tensing before it felt like it had shattered into a million pieces.

He didn’t stop until he was sure I’d ridden out every last bit of it, his fingers slowing their movements but never letting up until I was trembling beneath him.

Only then did he pull his fingers out.

When I finally came back to myself, I found him watching me with a look that was equal parts smug and adoring.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as if sealing the moment. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice gentle now.

I could only nod, too blissed out to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

And then he had the nerve to ask if I had one more in me, and again all I could do was nod.

But apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. “I need words,” he insisted, and barely managed to get out “Fucking hell, you’re not leaving me without the rest.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t deny how endearing it was.

How many green flags could one guy have? Annoyingly checking every damn box.

When he went to his wallet, I knew what was coming next.

He handed me the condom packet, giving me that same patient, earnest look, like he was asking if I could handle one more thing.

I reached for him, giving him a few more pumps just to feel him twitch in my hand. Sliding the condom on, I could feel the heat building again, a rush of anticipation making my heart race.

He adjusted our position like he was handling something precious—placing a pillow just under my back, so deliberate and thoughtful.

But when he rested his dick on my inner thigh, all those coherent thoughts I had left my brain like it was suddenly a foreign language, and I remembered the girth.

Holy shit. How was I supposed to handle that?

The weight of him, the sheer size, and the fact that I was supposed to take it in?

Was this man sculpted by the gods or what?

And why did I have to get stuck on how considerate he was instead of focusing on the absolute insanity about to happen?

Before I could spiral any further, he came up to me, his lips brushing mine, dragging me back into the present. “We’ll take all the time you need, okay?” his voice like honey, smooth and sweet.

And there I was, rolling my eyes again, even as the warmth spread through me.

I wanted to snap back, something sassy on the tip of my tongue, but then his tip entered me, and all I could do was hiss at the sensation.

He kissed me through the first thrust, his dick practically ripping through my walls, and my hands automatically went to his back, nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life.

I tried to breathe, tried to adjust to the stretch, but when he finally stopped, I realized he wasn’t even fully in yet.

My eyes shot down, and sure enough, he was still focused, his breathing controlled, and all I heard was a low murmur, “Geez, you really are tight.”

I felt his arms on either side of me, solid and reassuring, and I squeezed them gently. His eyes instantly found mine, filled with concern, and I had to smile softly. “Move, Lewis. Just please, move.”

And then he did, thrusting into me with an agonizing slowness, deeper with each motion, until finally, I felt his balls press against my ass, and he sighed like he’d found what he was looking for.

My mind, however, was a different story.

Holy shit, how was I still breathing? I was split open in the best way possible, and all I could think was how the hell was this man real.

I was sure each thrust was going to create its own memory, and I was teetering between wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and begging him to go even harder.

But there was something about how he moved—deliberate, careful, like he was savoring every second, every reaction I gave him.

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world, was enough to push me over the edge again. And I could tell he was holding back, trying to keep control, trying to make sure I was okay, even as his own need was practically vibrating through his body.

God, I’m so screwed, and not just in the physical sense.

I was falling, fast and hard, and there was no stopping it now.

Not when he felt this good, not when he was this good to me.

Every thrust made me crave more, made me cling to him tighter, made me want to lose myself in him completely.

Lewis’s focus was entirely on me, and it was like he was memorizing every gasp, every twitch, every reaction.

It was overwhelming, in the best possible way, but still I needed more.

I wanted to be the one in control, to feel him from a different angle, to see what this man—this ridiculous, considerate, and sexy man—would do when I took the reins.

Leaning into his ear, I whispered, “I want to ride you.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I felt him tense beneath me, half-worried, half-hopeful.

It was adorable, really, how he tried to mask his excitement with concern.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, and there was that hint of amusement in his voice, but I could also hear the edge of desperation.

Did he really want this as much as I did, maybe even more?

“We’ll take it slow, right?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.

I sat up, pulling away just enough to guide him to sit on the bed, and as I moved into his lap, I could feel his heart on his chest.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto his dick, feeling every inch stretch me again, filling me completely.

My lips parted in an involuntary gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as I adjusted to the sensation.

His hands found my waist, gripping tightly as if grounding himself, and when I finally opened my eyes, he was staring at me with that same soft smile that always managed to break through my sarcasm.

I couldn’t help but smile back, pulling him into a kiss, the kind that had me wrapping me around him.

I started moving, rocking back and forth, feeling the friction build and spiral.

The kiss broke when he moaned against my lips, a sound that only spurred me on, making my moves harder, seeking more.

His hands guided me, helping me rise and fall on him, and every time his tip brushed against my cervix, I saw starts. It was so intense it almost bordered on pain.

I let out a cry, my body trembling at the sensation, and he immediately stilled, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and it was almost ridiculous how serious he was, but also incredibly sweet.

I looked down at him, half breathless, half in awe of how he managed to be so considerate, even in the heat of the moment. “Going to be even better when you drag that other orgasm out of me, like you promised.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He started to thrust up and I matched him, riding him faster, until I could feel that familiar tension coil tightly in my belly.

I wasn’t going to last much longer, and by the way he was groaning beneath me, neither was he.

A few more thrusts, and I stilled, holding him down by his abdomen, feeling the shift in him as he realized what was happening.

He searched my face, and then his expression shifted as he felt my walls clenching around him, my legs shaking as I came undone.

I couldn’t keep myself upright, collapsing into his chest as wave after wave washed over me.

Lewis took that moment to start thrusting again, riding out my orgasm, and I was vaguely aware of the way he was holding me, like he didn’t want to let go.

I could feel his rhythm faltering, and it wasn’t long before he let out a deep grunt, his fingers digging into my waist as he held me in place and his moans were all I heard.

We were both breathing hard, tangled together, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

It was just us, in this moment, and I couldn’t help the ridiculous surge of affection for him.

Who knew I’d end up here, wrapped up in the arms of a guy like Lewis? But here I was, completely wrecked and somehow, already craving more.

As I eased off his lap, I heard a low moan escape his lips, and I giggled as I looked down at him, sprawled out on the bed with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" I teased, reaching down to carefully remove the condom, trying to catch the mess inside. He didn't even respond, just lay there looking like the cat who got the cream.

I slipped off to the bathroom, tossing the condom in the toilet before taking a moment to pee—because there was no way I was dealing with a UTI when I had Lewis to myself like that.

And just that thought was ridiculous on its own.

When I came back into the bedroom, Lewis immediately pulled me into his arms, almost like he was afraid I’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He was sweet in the aftercare, his voice soft as he asked, “How was it? How do you feel?”

I could hear the concern laced in his tone, but that grin was still there, tugging at the corners of his lips.

It was impossible not to smile back, even as I decided to mess with him a little. My fingers wandered lower, tracing the lines of his lower waist, and I looked up at him with a teasing glint in my eyes.

“You know” I started, trying to keep a straight face, “I always thought you were a shower… I’m glad to see you’re also a grower.”

Lewis giggled, his chest vibrating under my chin as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah” I grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I mean, it’s only fair to acknowledge all of your… talents.”

He shook his head again, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. “And here I thought I had you speechless.”

“You did” I assured him, my fingers dancing across his skin again. “But I can’t stay quiet for long.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer, his hand running up and down my back in soothing strokes. “I’m glad. It’s part of your charm.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through me at his words. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

His grin softened into something more tender as he looked down at me. “You make it easy to be sweet.”

I pretended to look annoyed, but the smile on my face gave me away. “Okay, that was disgustingly cute. But fine, I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it?” he teased, his hand coming up to gently brush my cheek “What if I want to be disgustingly cute more often?”

I hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “I guess I could get used to it… as long as you keep up the other stuff too.”

He giggled again, that carefree sound that I was quickly falling for. “Deal. But just so you know, I’m planning on sticking for a bit.”

I smirked, resting my hand on his chest. “I think I can manage that.”

______________________________________________________________

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freakyformula · 1 month ago

Text

First time with the Lion

Summary: Reader is scared to lose her virginity but Max is the best boyfriend and helps her along the way.

Writers comment: The amount of hours I've put into this fucking fic...

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, swear words, oral (both receiving), loss of virginity, creampie, google translated dutch

Word count: 4,4k

You stood outside Max's apartment, waiting for him to come home. You had forgotten your keys and he was rushing back from the gym to let you in. You told him that you'd go back to your apartment to get the keys but Max was having none of it. You and Max had been seeing each other for a year by now, and he had given you the keys to his home a couple of months into dating.

"I'm sorry for taking so long, I ran as fast as I could." He pants as he sees you when he steps out of the elevator.

"Max, it's been like 5 minutes, it's not like I'll die just because I have to wait for you." You mutter to him while you rub his arm.

He opens the door for you, kisses your forehead, and returns to the gym to complete his daily workout.

You lounge on the sofa for a bit before you feel your stomach grumbling. You walk to the kitchen and realise that the fridge is full of food, unusual for Max, considering he doesn't cook, you think.

It's already dusk and you've started preparing dinner for the two of you when he gets home.

As soon as Max sees you in the kitchen his lips form into a wide smile. He walks up to you and hugs you from behind.

"Hmmm, smells good. What are you making?"

"Penne alla vodka with chicken." You state, suspecting that Max didn't understand one word you just uttered. You smirk at him, "Pasta with tomato sauce, basically."

In response, he nods and continues to observe you while you work on the pasta.

"So… What do you want to do tonight, Y/N?" He suddenly asks.

"I was thinking we could stay in?"

"Sounds good to me…" He grabs your hips and presses himself against you, tickling your face and neck with light kisses. You can feel his hard-on through the fabric of your clothes.

While having supper, you make plans for the next racing weekend. You were not accustomed to the busy paddock, but Max was. Even though you had attended a few races and hidden in the grandstands with other fans, it was all new to you. It was important to maintain a low profile because you and Max had not yet gone public.

When you're done, and as you're finishing up the dishes, you feel his touch behind you again.

"Touchy today, are we?" You ask.

"Hmmmm…" He hums.

And with that, he easily lifts you up on his shoulder, carries you to the sofa, and lays you down with the utmost care.

He places himself between your legs as you part them for him, and he lets out a barely audible groan. He looks you deep in the eyes as he leans in to kiss you.

He begins stroking and kneading his way down your arms, chest, hips, and hands as soon as you start making out.

Max knows you're a virgin, you had told him when he took your makeout session too far once. Turns out he had already assumed you were because of the purity ring you were wearing.

Before you met Max, you'd been focusing on your studies, which meant little time for anything else. Your family was also extremely religious and anything considered sexual was forbidden before marriage.

While you and Max had done some stuff already, like seeing and touching each other while naked, you hadn't really gone further than that, the reason being your inexperience.

"Is this okay?" Max asks as he supports himself on his elbow, admiring your beauty only a few centimeters away from you. You could feel his breath on you, and he was panting heavily.

You spend the rest of the evening cuddling on the sofa, later moving to the bed to finish an episode of your favorite series.

In the days after, Max couldn't keep his hands off you. After that night, you waited for the opportunity to ask him about his intentions. It seemed as though the nature of the relationship had changed. Max had planned a romantic dinner at one of Monaco's top restaurants, followed by a stroll around the harbour to watch the sunset.

You sat on the balcony of the restaurant and enjoyed the food and each other.

You were wearing a floral midi dress and he was rocking a pair of beige shorts and a blue button-up.

When you considered yourself done, you slowly started walking towards the harbour.

The evening was beautiful, with the sky shining in all sorts of different colours.

You inhaled deeply and gathered your thoughts. The nerves were almost getting to you. Max flung his arms over you to try and warm you up, so he must have noticed how much you were shaking.

"Max… I need to ask you something." You begin, "About last week, did something happen that night when we cuddled? You've been acting strange ever since."

He turns to look at you and takes a deep sigh. You can see his face frown, seemingly deep in thought.

"Y/N, you know I love you. All I want is to treat you well and avoid causing you harm. But lately, you've turned me on so badly, and I'm afraid that expressing how much I need you would just harm you. He glances up at you, relieved to have voiced what was on his mind.

"Oh, Max…" You lean in, give his lips a peck, and rest your head on his arm, happy with the fact that he'd confessed his feelings.

"I don't want to rush, it's not like that at all. But I can't keep pretending like I'm not turned on by you." Max admits.

You look up at him and smile, "That makes two of us."

The look he gives you is so hilarious, it makes you giggle.

"D-do you mean that…?" He asks with big eyes.

"Yes… I have a suggestion, why don't we go back to your place and you can show me just how turned on you are?"

The whole walk home, Max holds your hand tightly, almost as if he's afraid of losing you on the way. As soon as he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. Max stumbles out of his shorts and you unbutton his shirt, and he helps you with your dress.

When it touches the ground and you're standing in only underwear before him, you cross your arms, afraid and uncomfortable. Max softly grabs your hands and softly bends your arms open, letting him see you fully.

"You're exquisite, Y/N. Never claim otherwise. Can I touch you?" He carefully asks.

You nod and he starts by sliding his hands up your arms, to your collarbones, and down to your chest. You let out a small whimper when you feel him move down to your hips.

The sounds of your family telling you about waiting for marriage and the importance of abstinence rang in your ears and you panicked. You back off and leave Max confused. He quickly makes his way up to you and holds your face.

The same thing had happened before; you desperately wanted to take the next step with Max, confident that he was your soulmate, but your conscience would not let you.

"It's okay, Y/N. We don't have to go further than this." He says, hoping to cheer you up.

"But… I want to. I want you."

"Then what's stopping you? I'm here."

And it's as if all the morals you've ever stored in your body melted away.

You felt ready, even if it would take time to get used to this. Anything sexual being sinful was all you knew of growing up.

You lean in and kiss his lips softly, daring to touch his shoulders. As the kiss deepens, you move your hands to his chest, and down to his stomach. You feel him mimicking your movements, giving you control that way. Without breaking the kiss, he starts to steer you towards the bedroom.

Once you reach the second-story staircase, Max picks you up into his strong arms, causing you to yelp. Max lays you down on the bed with care and follows, placing himself on top.

"How far are you ready to go, Y/N?" He asks.

"I don't know yet, but I'm okay so far. Just keep going."

"Can I take these off?" He asks, gazing down at the bra and panties.

You nod.

"First off, words. You need to use words for this to work, it's for our safety and well-being." He explains.

"Okay… y-yes." You stutter.

"Good girl." He smiles at you and starts placing kisses on your naked skin, that nickname making you absolutely feral.

He starts peppering kisses on your mouth and works his way down to your neck, and further to your covered breasts. He unbuckles your bra and helps you with the straps. The hunger in his eyes when he sees your bare chest is something you've never felt before. He dives down and begins sucking on the sensitive peaks.

Where his mouth isn't, his hands are, caressing you. You let out a moan and Max follows your lead. He lets out a moan and looks at your lust-filled eyes. He takes it as a sign to continue further down. When he grabs your panties and slides them down, you clench your legs together in order to avoid exposing yourself. Max, of course, doesn't accept that and opens them up again. He gasps at the sight, and bends down, placing kisses along your inner thighs.

"Can I touch you here?" He checks in.

"Yes, please."

"Good girl." He chuckles and leans into your heat. He dives in and starts licking, sucking, and teasing your entrance. He soon adds his hands to the mix, with his fingers flicking your clit while his tongue works the rest of your pussy. You feel your orgasm building up quickly, you're feeling ecstatic but your parents lecturing is pestering your mind and you can't help but whimper and move back from his care.

"I-I'm scared." You admit, on the brink of tears.

Max tuts, lies down next to you and holds you while you calm down again.

"I know this is a big step for you, Y/N, but you're doing so well, and we won't go any further than you're ready to."

He rubs your shoulder languidly until you let him know that you're ready again. He goes down again, but this time, he only uses his fingers.

"Does this feel good, mijn schat?" He checks in.

"Oh shit, don't stop." You force out, bucking your hips and lifting your legs over his shoulders.

He works your clit like a pro, and you feel an unfamiliar knot in your stomach.

What is happening? You thought. Before you know it, the knot snaps, and you scream out the first orgasm of your life.

You pant heavily and look at Max, who smirks down at you, clearly pleased with his work.

"So that's what it feels like…" you say.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Honestly, I've never been better. Thank you, Max."

A couple of weeks pass and you repeat the same routine every night you spend together. He's giving you at least one orgasm per day.

You started feeling selfish, yearning to give him the same treatment back but not knowing how to bring it up with him.

You wait patiently for him to make the move, but he never asks. Being the gentleman he is, he doesn't want to pressure you.

"Max, tonight I want to make you feel good too." You say as he makes his way down your stomach to your already sopping core.

He slowly looks up at you in shock. Never could he believe that you'd be comfortable pleasuring him this soon. You could see the outline of his manhood in his briefs as he sat up.

"Are you sure about this? You don't have to, I'm enjoying giving you pleasure and I don't mind keeping it that way." He asks, but behind that caring gaze is a look that you can't place, it's like a fire out of control.

"No." You say as you grab his wrist. "I want to do this."

"Okay. Let's switch positions." And with that, you find yourself on your knees.

"Ready? You can start by touching me, and getting used to the feel and how I react to your touch."

"Like this?" You ask as you take his member into your hands, feeling and studying him, and rubbing up and down his length.

"Yes, Y/N. Just like that, oh god, don't stop."

When you touch the head of his throbbing and leaking dick he lets out a moan.

"Do you like that?" You smile up at him.

"God, yes." He responds.

You continue stimulating him with your hands, and when he announces that he's close you bend down, and give the tip a lick. He's bucking his hips at this point, desperate to come.

"Don't stop, Y/N, please." And you continue pumping him with your hands and you take the head into your mouth, sucking down on it. With each bob of your head, you take more of him into your mouth.

"Where do you want my seed?" He asks desperately.

With your mouth full of dick you only look up at him, and when he comes a few seconds later, he pulls you off him, but leaving you at close proximity. He pumps his cock which starts twitching and splurting out white streaks of cum. You've placed your face under him and feel the warmth on your face as he pumps out every last drop of his fluid.

"Y/N, that was fantastic, you're fantastic! Such a good girl for me…" He praises you as he cleans the sticky mess off your face.

Miami.

You'd spend your time at the grandstands as usual, all to avoid getting associated with your boyfriend. You didn't feel like it was time to make your relationship public yet, Max would love to to make your love for each other official, but you didn't want to because of the tendency to get called out as a gold digger by the so-called fans.

It was warm, insufferably warm. You wore a flowy white sundress but were still sweating.

You were there with the other fans to cheer Max on as he drove past the checkered flag in the first place and yelled his name when he stood on the podium and heard the Dutch anthem as you had many times before, both at home but also when you'd attended races before.

Max and you shared the hotel room, much to your pleasure. You arrived before him, because of the interviews and briefings he had to do after the race. After you stepped into the room, you undressed and threw yourself onto the bed, naked. You were sticky and sweaty from the warm and humid weather. Getting yourself freshened up felt fitting, so you poured yourself a bath and sank in. The cooler water felt like heaven as you scrubbed your body clean.

You had no idea how long you stayed in that bath, but it must have been quite long because when you were in the process of drying off, you heard Max arriving.

"I'm in here!" You yell as you see Max peeking in through the door.

"Hi, my love." He tuts as you try to cover yourself up.

"Congrats on the win!" You smile at him.

"Thank you, schat. Now, what do you say about a special celebration?"

Slowly, he grabs the towel and lets it fall to the floor. His breath hitches when he sees your naked body.

"Ohhh… This is exactly what I was looking forward to when I walked up to the room."

For what seems like an eternity, you stand there while Max simply takes in your beauty. You cross your arms in order to cover yourself up.

"No, no, baby. Let me see you."

You both take deep breaths as you process your current experience. With each passing second, you can feel your core becoming increasingly hot.

"Max… Need you."

"Do you now?" He asks, with admiration in his eyes.

He steers your body towards the bedroom without breaking eye contact, analysing your facial expression as if he's afraid to accidentally overstep a boundary.

"You decide what we do today, liefje, I'm just your guide."

You stand there for a moment, considering your next move carefully. You sit down on the edge of the king-size bed. Max follows and sits down next to you, unable to keep his hands to himself. His hands are caressing your hands, arms, thighs, face, anywhere he could reach.

It didn't seem fair that you were sitting naked while he was fully clothed.

You straddle him in order to get closer. He seems surprised by your sudden confidence and pulls you impossibly closer to his warm body.

You lift his shirt gently and start tracing his stomach. Your touch leaves goosebumps along his skin, and he closes his eyes.

"Feels so good, sweetheart." He admits.

You remove his tee and begin working on his belt to remove the skinny jeans as well. The pace is slow; you take your time with one another. Max gently touches your sides as you unbutton his jeans. He assists you in removing them, leaving you to admire the magnificence of his body in front of you. Your gaze travels down to his growing member, making you look away.

"Come here." Max encourages you.

As you lie down next to him, he moves halfway over you, placing his leg in between yours. He places soft kisses along your jawline, along the edges of your mouth, along your eyebrows, along your collarbone.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah." You nod as you pull his head closer to you. He moves down to your exposed breasts and starts sucking on the hardened nipples. His tongue caresses your tits and you feel your heat dripping in anticipation.

"Oh god, Maxie, need more." You comment.

"Patience, love." Max smirks.

His statement makes you groan, looking away from him, trying to cover yourself up.

"You're okay." He smiles as he continues massaging and sucking on your tits. The purple and red marks he leaves will be visible for days but you don't care at the moment.

His mouth finds your stomach, and there too, he leaves marks. When he reaches your mound, he stops.

"Can I go further?" He checks in.

"Yes, please, Maxie!" You instantly reply, sounding desperate.

Max hums and gives your mound a couple of appreciative kisses.

He moves down to your heat, and as you already knew, your juices were already leaking. You feel his heavy breaths on your clit, and Max stays there for a while, relishing in the sight of your pussy.

Then, out of nowhere, he plunges in.

The way he circles your clit causes you to buck your hips up and down again. He pushes down on your stomach and grounds you, continuing to eat your pussy. He teases your entrance with his tongue, opening you up a little.

"Taste so sweet…" He whispers under his breath.

Max has learnt what works for you these last weeks, and in 5 minutes you've had your first orgasm for the night.

You squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure, completely out of breath. Your chest keeps heaving up and down despite your best efforts to find your breath again, but just as you're about to fill your lungs with air, Max laps around your clit.

When he inserts a finger, you yelp.

"Shhhh, it's only my finger."

He curls his finger up towards your sweet spot and you yell out.

"Hngh, gonna cum again…" You manage to say in a strenuous tone.

Hearing that, Max starts sucking and pumping into you harder, and within a couple of seconds you're pushed over the edge once again.

You yell out your spasms and Max pauses, knowing you easily get overstimulated after cumming.

"More, more, more…" You chant.

"Do you want to go all the way, Y/N?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Maxie." And with that, you sit up, pushing him onto the bed.

You take his length into your hands and pump him a couple of times to see how he reacts to your touch. He looks up at you with blown eyes, giving you a wide smile. When you pump him a little harder though, his mouth turns into an O shape.

"Treating me so good, princess."

"Yeah? What about if I do this?" You ask and take his tip into your mouth. As you hollow your cheeks, you hear Max groan loudly but you're too occupied with taking his cock further into your mouth. You bend down a little further until you're on the limit of gagging. You don't dare to go lower. Max gives you an approving look, making sure that you're okay.

Your velvety soft cheeks must've driven Max incredibly close to the edge because you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. You can feel the salty precum on your tongue.

Oh lord, what if your parents found out what you were doing at the moment? They would disown you for sure.

You release his member from your mouth and brush the drool away with the back of your hand.

"Do you think you're ready for me?" He coos.

You stay quiet, pondering your answer carefully. You roll the ring around your finger nervously.

"J-just be careful." You stutter to him.

"Of course, my love." He whispers back as he places you on your back.

"Spread your legs for me." He asks of you while he pumps his cock.

You lift your knees up and slowly spread your legs a little.

"A little more." He demands. You spread them a few centimeters more before you close them shut again in embarrassment.

Max quickly finds himself at your side, peppering you with kisses and praise.

"Liefje, I know this isn't easy for you. I know your parent's lectures are plaguing your mind at the moment. But I just need you to know how incredibly beautiful you are and how turned on I am by you. Here, let me help you…" He says and spreads your legs with his hands. "There you go, good girl."

"I-I'm scared." You admit.

"What are you scared of?"

"The pain?" You ask yourself. You didn't really know what you were scared of, but it was eating you alive at the moment.

"As long as you relax and breathe, you'll be fine." Max comforts. "Ready?"

"Y-yeah." You nod.

He lifts your legs over his strong arms and pulls you closer to him. He pushes a finger into your pussy, and soon adds another one. The stretch scares you at first but you adjust after a couple of gentle pumps. Then, a third one. That's when you start to panic; if you're in this much pain now, how much more will you experience when Max fucks you?

But Max is good, and he slightly pulls back his fingers and slowly pushes them in again, opening you gradually.

When you feel his tip against your opening, you think of what he just told you. Relax and breathe.

"I'll push the tip in first, sweetheart, let me know if it's too much. Breathe with me."

When he lines up with your entrance, you look up at him. He looks like a god like this. Your gazes meet, and you start to breathe together. When he places his tip against you and gives it a little push, you feel a jolt of pain between your legs and yelp by pure instinct.

"You're okay, it's just the tip."

You cry out as Max stays put where he is. He looks down and concludes that the tip is indeed inside.

The face you make when he pushes into you a little further seems to worry him. You can't breathe, can't move, can't speak. The pain is too much to handle.

Max pulls out a little in order to let you recover. You've adjusted well to his tip, you can't feel any pain when just the tip is in.

"Do you want to continue?" Max asks.

"Of course I want to! I'm not backing down now." You exclaim.

Max pushes into you a little further while he caresses your hips. He watches your face in pity.

All of a sudden, after adjusting to his size, the pain subsides and as he's pumping into you, you feel pleasure. You gasp at the feeling of him inside you.

When he bottoms out, you both moan into each others mouths as you kiss.

"So tight for me, schat." He whispers in your ear.

You only groan as an answer, too overwhelmed to form any words. His pace is slow at first, but after checking in with you, his thrusts pick up in speed.

His hips piston into yours and you cry out another orgasm, lightening something within you. Your body is completely limp at this point, exhaustion evident in everything you say and do.

He grabs your hands, places them above your head, and holds them down with his bigger hands. Not that you'd have the energy to move your hands anyway.

His pace is relentless, fucking into you at an unforgiving pace.

"Turn around." He says as he guides you on your hands and knees.

Agonizingly slowly, he pushes into you again, taking care not to hurt you. This position makes you feel everything even more. As if things weren't intense enough, Max moves his hand down to your clit, circling it with his fingers.

"Where do you want my cum?" He asks.

You hadn't even considered this. "What about… In me? I'm on the pill, you know that."

"Hmmm… Classic." You and Max chuckle together.

Max does as you ask and spills his seed impossibly deep within you, chest heaving against yours. All you know is him for what feels like an eternity.

Your chests are heaving against each other, both of you out of breath.

You can't help letting out a small whimper when Max parts from you. You collapse on the bed from exhaustion.

You hear Max in the bathroom, and decide to check on him. When you're about to enter you crash into him.

"Oh! Sorry, I was just about to come get you. I'm running a bath for you, and I've brought a towel if you want to clean yourself up."

You spend the rest of the night talking while Max helps you bathe.

You grab the purity ring on your finger and throw it on the nightstand, not caring about either the ring or your parents opinions anymore.

You fall asleep comfortably, knowing that you were brave enough to finally do it. You finally surrendered yourself to the man you love and adore.

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