#they always called me “the brain” and yeah... i thought they were calling me stupid backhandedly but no | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinsofnivan · 2 months ago

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INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything.

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock."

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat.

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face,"

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf.

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face.

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much,"

"i love you too, mi amor."

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you.

mind?

what mind?

"c , chris!"

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . . love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away.

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix.

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit.

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment.

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby,"

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you.

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . .

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama,"

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . "

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ"

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full.

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him.

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist,"

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy.

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine.

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here,"

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?"

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear.

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw.

wesker is strict. firm.

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack!

"f , four!"

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ).

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment.

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK!

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull.

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours.

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions."

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up. "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange.

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!"

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look.

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks.

too bad he's still gotta discipline you.

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers."

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm.

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away.

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you.

only for you.

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function.

"who owns you?"

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet."

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!"

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers.

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt.

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back.

"sleep, my love. i'll be here."

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out.

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different.

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!"

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . . you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom.

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned.

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom.

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry. "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed.

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts.

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point. “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you.

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it.

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal.

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting.

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now.

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn,"

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm.

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind.

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . . fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter. "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!"

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time.

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet.

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . "

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . .

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?"

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged.

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now.

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . . but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour.

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—,"

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it.

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios . . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours.

[ god . . oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out.

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily. "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy.

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself.

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

1K notes · View notes

teaspacebar · 5 months ago

Text

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

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

word count: ~9.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, where are you —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you even get it all here?”

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

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

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

Fridge Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

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

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

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

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Natalie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I’m saying!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what we’re saying!”

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

Nan’s Books & Brews

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

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

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

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me?!”

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

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

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

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

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

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

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

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

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you're looking right at him.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

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

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

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

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

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

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not-”

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

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

“For yelling at you?”

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

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

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

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

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

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

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

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

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

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t—”

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

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

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

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

You smile, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Starving,” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

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

“Hey Carm?!”

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

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

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

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

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

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

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

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

“What notification?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love that, Bear.”

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

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

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

You’re here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

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

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

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

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

They’re talking about you.

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

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

“You should absolutely come!”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

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

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

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

He’s trying to make you feel better.

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

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes

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muntitled · 9 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓!

- How svt hip hop unit would react to you using your safeword

- cw: fluff, established relationships, humor, slight angst, quickies, rough sex, smut, breeding, degradation, safewords, +18, mdni, mingyu as his own warning

Always be safe, xo

⤑ Seungcheol

"This is good right? You're good?" Over and over again, Seungcheol had peppered you with reassurances. They bounced off the bases of his soft, pillowy lips with the same convictions as the wet kisses he was leaving on the side of your face.

You could feel how rough he was beginning to get.

"You like this, don't you?" You were swimming deep in subspace, a land of pink pillowy nothingness where your brain essentially became a tabularasa. A blank fucking slate.

Like a fucking concrete monolith was stationed between your thighs, rutting against you harder and harder the more time that seems to ebb between you.

"F-Fuck, baby you're so tight, huh? Such a tight little princess for me?" He was completely and utterly delirious. You can't crane your hand to look at him no matter how badly you wish to. Your back flat against the polished wood of his desk, and his hand around your throat keeps you there as Seuncheol traps you underneath him. He fucking loved being framed by your soft, pillowy thighs. They got tighter and weaker intermittently around him, all while he whispered the most vile words into your ear.

"Y-Yeah- Cheol- fuck-" Seungcheol watches in pained ecstacy at your blissed out state, completely catching him in the height of his own Dom space. With your tongue lolling out, Seungcheol dips down to whisper straight into your open mouth, "You're such a pretty little slut you know that-"

He was squeezing the base of your throat as he rutted into you. More and more you began to wonder if you were even a person anymore.

"Just a pretty fucking slut for me to use-"

You felt like an object.

A toy.

And despite your walls clenching around his cock your hand flew to his wrist. "Ch-Cheol-"

"You're gonna make me cum, you stupid fucking bitch-"

"Cheol-"

"F-Fuck you're such a dumb little girl-"

"CHEOL- Ohmygod-PEACH-" as if released by some evil spell, Seungcheol immediately uncuffs his iron grip from the base of your throat. He is off of yoy in five seconds, creating as much distance possible while his chest rises and falls and rises and falls. You turn slightly, eyes wide and brimming with... something. It wasn't fear, Seungcheol would hate himself if it was that.

"Baby- I-"

"Could we maybe like, ease up on the name calling. J-Just a little."

He looks fucking devastated "Fuck, I'm- genuinely so-"

"I know. Babe, it's not your fault."

"When you said Degradation I just-" he shakes his head. He wasn't about to blame you. Anything but that. "Fuck I'm sorry-"

"Hey, you're so good. So good. I'm just not into it as much as I thought I was and that was an error on my part."

"Don't fucking apologize. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being a safe enough place to tell." You shrug.

Seungcheol looks around the messy room with deflated shoulders.

"Are we.. do you- I mean I could run you a bath-"

"Get inside me, I was still close,"

⤑Wonwoo

There isn't a moment that Wonwoo isn't always just a little bit overly cautious during your various sexual escapes.

Whether it was a quickie in the bathroom of a Michelin Star restaurant or a divinely long session of lovemaking under the wooden beams of the ceiling, with both your bodies submerged in a sea of blankets. So completely consumed with one another, you've already filled the entire expanse of the messy California king with all your tussling and lovemaking. Wonwoo is always careful.

Infuriatingly so.

Howevsr, there are moments like tonight, where the stars were aligned just a little differently, and your long-term boyfriend was feeling all the more frisky.

You can feel his hands everywhere the very second he stormed into your bedroom from being cooped up in study.

What you expected would be the usual, sober, safe, sex with Wonwoo quickly bled into something else when he pushed open your legs and pulled down your underwear along with your tight pink bum shorts in a single fell swoop.

"Uh -" Your body just let itself be undressed by him. All you could do was watch your boyfriend and his stoney visage as he paid special attention to undressing you. The warm glow of the overhead lights shone off his glasses as he lifted your torso up as if it was nothing, undressing you as if you were a child with underdeveloped motor skills.

"Did everything go okay at work-"

"I can't write. Jihoon wants to record tomorrow and I still haven't written my verse," Wonwoo pays extra attention to rubbing his hands on your soft supple skin. His shadow falls over you as you feel completely vulnerable underneath him, and he has yet to spare your actual eyes even a single glance.

"I'm sure every amazing rapper's had writer's block once and a whi- FUCK!" Your head shot back into the pillows as Wonwoo buried his face in between your legs, eating you out with the most fervour he'd ever radiated in a single sitting. Gone was the poised, level headed Wonwoo. He died somewhere between the pages of his coffee stained notebook.

"God- Wonwoo-" he sticks his tongue out, lapping hungrily at your cunt that only gushes for him. He hums against the tortured skin and your fingers immediate reach for his scalp.

"Fuck-" he mumbles against your cunt before lifting his head, "Can't work like this-" he says before pulling off his thick rimmed glasses and discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your eyes cross the moment his plush lips rub against your cunt and your hips lift almost automatically from the bed. His hands are encircled around your ample thighs, promising you you're not going anywhere and his mouth visibly moves as he begins to eat you out in the most literal, most vile display of eating out you'd ever witness.

One tap on your thigh let's you know you're not watching him like he wants you to. Eye contact was sacred and Wonwoo always let you know.

You gain enough energy to crane you head down to make eye contact but the second you see his mess of overgrown hair, tousled from your harsh grip, or the eager, half lidded eyes, you're completely done for. You gush all over his face, and your limbs wrack and writhe, but he keeps you locked there.

"W-Wonwoo- Fuck-i cant-"

He doesn't listen, as if trapped in his own reverie of pussy-drunk pleasure as he continues to slurp at your cunt with his mouth sucrioned onto your clit.

"Wonwoo- Baby- please-"

He's far too locked away in the essence of you, way too fargone in the softness of your cunt to begin to realize you're becoming way too overstimulated.

It's only when you're tapping furiously at the side of his head, furiously screaming, "YODA! FUCK- YODA-" that he's ungluing his puffy lips from your poor clit, breathing heavily with his eyes wide as ifhed just been set free from the shackles of a spell. You're crying. That's the first thing he noticed. The second is your quivering legs, shaking like autumn leaves in the wind. Your bottom lip is shaking too, that's what gets him scrambling beside you where he immediately envelops you in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Princess-" and you can tell he means it, but still you weep silently.

Your voice is quivering as you say, "You-You know I can't go again so quickly after... after..." Your chest rises and falls and rises and falls and Wonwoo immediately presses your face into his chest, to let you air out all the bad emotions onto his plain white tee.

"I thought I was doing something good for you, but I only ended up thinking about myself," he admits against your forhead, where his lips refuse to part.

"I just... needed a break from work-" he says, "I'm sorry," and you forgive him because It's him.

⤑Mingyu

"Shh," he whispers, pulling your braids across your shoulders as he makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror, "This'll be really quick, I promise."

"I dunno, bro-" you whisper back, despite your hands already gripping the marble finishes of the bathroom sink. "Your quickies are never as quick as they need to be-" you say, pushing you ass back against the bulge in his designer jeans as you lower your torso to the sink.

Mingyu smiled from the mirror, something diabolical, his hair cropped, and his skin crisp from the warm, orange glow of the bathroom. Outside, somewhere down a labyrinth of corridors, the rest of his group sat in the VIP section of the televised award show. All of them humming along to whatever group has taken the stage with the hopes that their rapper would make it out on time for their own performance.

"You just indirectly told me I last long, baby," he says, clutching his heart through his Balmain dress shirt while making heart eyes at you through the mirror.

"Hurry or you're gonna miss your-"

"Fuck you're so wet- why are you so wet?" Mingyu rubs the softness of your ass while examining the gush of arousal coating your panties. He lifts his head, "I'm going to breed you-"

"Mingyu-"

He's already pulling his pants down, quick enough to pull his dick out and shove it inside your cunt. Your lips part and your head pushes against the mirror and you're seeing absolute stars. Quickies with Mingyu always felt particularly barbaric because of how sloppy he tended to get. His tongue practically rolled out his mouth like the golden retriever he was so often described to be, while he rutted into you with some base heavy trap song pouring through the speakers.

"F-Fuck, Mingyu- please,"

What he thought was a silent plead for more, spurred Mingyu. He was an insatiable brute as he laid a hand on your back, pushing you further against the sink. When the side of your face hit the marble, your blood ran cold.

"I'm going to fucking breed you , baby." His eyes are obscured by heavily tinted designer shades and his head his thrown back in ecstasy. He was beginning to drill his cock into you and you were beginning to find there is nothing you can do about it.

"'Gyu- you can't come inside, you know that-"

"I really don't think you should be on those pills anymore, babe-"

You instinctively lift your head to try to glimpse him through the mirror because he was talking crazy. His hand lifts his shirt as he drills into you, revealing his chiseled core and a near perfect lopsided smile.

"Are you talking about my birth control?"

Instead of giving you a response: "Down-" He grunts, forcing you to bend over again as his thrusts became sloppily and sloppily, "Almost there, don'wanna miss the performance-"

"Mingyu you're not cumming inside me-"

"Fuck- why not? You're so perfect and so tight. Your body's just begging for me to fuck a baby into it-"

"PEPPERONI-" You scream immediately bullying him off of you until he's stumbling backwards and your back is pressed against the marble. You watch him shake his head, pants loose around his waist and yet he still somehow locked infuriatingly perfect.

"What the fuck- DUDE!" You can barely keep the anger from seeping out of your voice as you glare down your irresponsible boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"I didn't finish!" he whines while stomping on the ground with his heavy sneakers.

"Were you seriously going to finish inside me!? After I explicitly told you-"

"Shh, shh," Mingyu says, stepping towards you to even out the angry creases on your forhead. "It was just for the fantasy, babe," he whispers, "Just for the fanatsy,"

⤑ Vernon

You didn't wanna say the word. It just sorta slipped. Straddling Hansol while some Pixar film played in the back was definitely not how you expected your second sexual encounter to go. There was still so much you had to learn about one another. Your bodies were vast fields of uncharted territory, and you weren't particularly sure Vermon would like all of those parts.

"Fuck, you're so hot- he whispers against your bare chest because discarding your shirt had been the first order of business. "So beautiful-"

You had begun rutting against him, with your skirt falling over his sweatpants, and your breathing became heavier and heavier. There was no explaining the tension that bubbled as your cunt rubbed greedily against his front but you were well aware of that feeling.

"God, you feel so damn good," he whispers, "You gonna cum for me?" Hansol's voice is utterly dripping with sex and all you can do is whimper as you dig your fingers into his hair- "Hansol, I-"

"Fuck, I think you're gonna cum from humping me, baby? Thats so hot..." A pool of wetness trickled from your cunt and it stole all the strength to immediately push yourself off screaming "NEMO-" you tapped out.

"Woah-" Vernon looks confused, justifiably so as you scoot to the floor, your legs quivering underneath you as your orgasm ebbed away.

"What do you need?"

You evade eye contact as you speak. "I just... didn't wanna disgust you or anything-"

"Dude, 'disgust' is literally the last thing on my mind. What's the problem?" You're still unable to make eye contact, causing Vernon to sigh as he sits forward with his elbows on his knees, to get closer to you in height.

"Is it the movie? I never thought Pixar would end up being a cockblock-"

"I nearly squirted." You admit. "Like everywhere-"

A moment of silence swells between you two and you can feel your heart sinking with every passing second. You wish to be anywhere but here. You could already smell all the warm popcorn you would ingest out of heartbreak, all the movies you'd-

"Fuck, and you thought that would 'disgust' me?" You peer up at him in pure wonder while lust descends on his visage like a shadow. "Sit on my face right now."

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 10 months ago

Note

hello 🩷recently found and loved your account so i’m here to ask from you!!

criminal minds SSA aaron hotchner x reader

i’d love any explicit smut 😋

ideal trope(s) would be jealousy, established but secret relationship due to workplace like the whole thing stems from AH being jealous af that you’re getting hit on or smth and he can’t do shy about it in public but oh when ur home.. 👀👀👀

hahaha sorry the brain rot is real

thank you if you do this!!

and i hope u never stop writing i’ve been reading ur other posts too i love them sm

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: your new relationship brings out a side of aaron that he had never seen before.

— warnings: established relationship, jealousy (obvi), unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, couch sex, aaron lowkey bends you like a pretzel, heavy praise, he taps you on the cheek (lovingly ofc), implied creampie, consent king aaron!!, slightly insecure aaron, implied age gap but not specified, body massages and an implied size kink!

— wc: 2018

⋆ a/n: WOW a long smut fic, who would have thought? anywho, i'm trying to break free from posting headcanons because i just know they'll overtake this account. thank you for this request!

masterlist | AO3

Aaron felt his eye twitch.

His eye never twitches.

The culprit? The maintenance man that won’t stop talking to you.

He had so much paperwork he needed to complete, the stack of it had begun to tower, but Aaron couldn’t manage to get himself to focus on anything else but you.

Your relationship was fairly new, so you both had just agreed to keep it low-key for now. It wasn’t like you guys were lying, how could you when you were constantly surrounded by nosy profilers?

With new relationships came new feelings, and one of them he hadn’t felt since he was a young man somehow managed to resurface right under his nose: jealousy.

Yes, he had his moments of jealousy when he had first gotten with Hailey, but this? This was different. The age gap between the two of you wasn’t that large, but it was considerable enough that when he saw men closer to your age creeping around you, it always put him in a foul mood.

Like right now he just wants to storm down there and kiss you right in front of that stupid kid. The urge was primal and unfamiliar, and quite frankly it drove him insane.

Aaron was sure you hadn’t meant to come off as flirtatious, and who were your colleagues to step in if you looked genuinely interested in the guy? For all they knew you were single.

Oh, yeah, this was going to drive him over the edge, and it was all your fault.

It was safe to say you were excited when Aaron had decided to call it an early night, you just hadn’t expected him to jump on you as soon as you breached the threshold of your home.

He didn’t give you time to think or even put your things down, his briefcase followed along by your purse collapsed to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud!

Your lungs burned and your face was hot, heated between the two furnaces that were Aaron’s large and work-worn hands. You desperately clung onto the sleeves of his suit jacket, the material twisting between your fingers to keep yourself sturdy as he walked backwards.

“A- Aaron wha - what’s going on?” You pleaded breathlessly. You had to slightly shove the man away even though you were met with his uncharacteristic resistance. He just stood there and stared at you like a wild man, pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with every hastened breath he took.

He shook his head and blinked, like his thoughts were escaping him. Aaron couldn’t think when you looked at him like that; your lips kiss swollen with a light sheen of spit, your blouse covered breasts grazing his firm chest.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Was all he could say before reconnecting your lips.

He continues to walk backwards before the back of his calves meet the couch. He allows himself to drop down with a slight oomf, his needy hands tugging on yours encouragingly until you clambered onto his lap.

He didn’t give you time to show him any hesitancy, his palms gripping your hips firmly and all but holding you down against him. You gasped at the feeling, your fingers scratching at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck.

“Aaron! What has gotten into you?” The question was a flustered giggle. Aaron’s eyes casted to the side in a rare show of nervousness.

“It’s ridiculous.” He mutters. “I can bet you a million dollars that whatever you’re going to say isn’t as silly as you think it is.”

“It was that guy. The one that wouldn’t stop talking to you.” It took you a moment to think back on it before you finally understood what he meant. “The maintenance man? What about him?”

“He was flirting with you, and - I don’t know, it made me feel things I haven’t in a long time.”

Saying the actual word jealousy seemed so juvenile to Aaron; he was a grown ass man with a grown ass man job, so what right did he have to be acting like this?

“Oh.” It was long and drawn out. You felt a smirk begin to form on your face and you gently coaxed his eyes to meet yours. Aaron’s gaze was unsure.

“You know I’m yours, right? I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, no matter how young, rich or tall.” Your hips begin to grind down on his and Aaron chokes back a groan. His grip on your flesh gets stronger and it draws a whimper out of you.

“Yeah?” He asks sensually, his voice a low purr. He aids in your grinding and your head grows fuzzy. “Yeah.”

He’s quick to reposition the both of you, your back now resting on the couch cushions. He kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. It sends a shiver down your spine and your lower half canting up, desperately searching for friction.

Your hot cunt meets his knee. “Ah! Aaron.” You whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your boyfriend has one foot on the ground and the other wedged between your legs.

Aaron rises from your chest for a moment, shoving off his suit jacket and working the buttons on his shirt. You take it upon yourself to take your blouse off, arms reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with learned precision.

His eyes fall on your breasts and you could have sworn his movements gained a bit of franticness.

“Like what you see?” You couldn’t help but tease, your hands now working to shimmy your pencil skirt down your thighs. “Very much.” Aaron agrees with a lazy half smile. “Here, let me help.” You lift your hips up and he takes both your panties and skirt off at the same time.

The casual show of strength made your stomach clench, and you all but snatched Aaron by the back of his neck back down to your level. A noise of surprise escapes him and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Your body begins to heat up, his taking grabs and grips driving you insane.

“Fuck me.” You heave. Aaron pulls away from you, “Are you sure? You aren’t prepared well yet, and I don’t want to hurt you.” You smile softly. “As much as I appreciate your concern about me, I’ll let you know if there’s any discomfort, okay?”

Aaron thinks on your words for a moment, mulling them about in his brain before relenting at the feeling of your sweet, tempting hands stroking his bare chest.

“You always have to keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

“That was in the agreement.” You bite playfully. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but sits up once more to unbutton his pants.

With what feels like forever, he’s finally bare for your hungry eyes and clambering on top of you.

Resuming his old position, he wraps your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock poking at your slit. The two of you shiver at the feeling.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You know I don’t mind eating you out; I’m in no rush.” Your cheeks turn warm at his crudeness. “I’m sure, baby. I need you. Now.” With one final search of your face, he begins to push forward.

Your breath catches in your throat and you hold on to his muscular biceps. Your eyes flutter shut at the full feeling of him, your legs trembling and stomach tightening.

The first initial stretch hurts of course, but with a minute of laying there adjusting to Aaron’s size as he delivers very stimulating circles on your clit to distract you from the discomfort, you find yourself loosening up.

“Move.” You grunted quietly.

Aaron’s jaw is set tight, the vein in his forehead slightly bulging when he proceeds to thrust experimentally. Your lips roll in between your teeth to hold back the whorish moan that threatens to practically barrel out of you.

He does it again, and again, and again, until all of his self control is thrown out the window and the only thing he can think of is you; of how tight you are around him.

“It feels so good, baby. So, so good…” You babble, your hands reaching up to grip the armrest of the couch for more leverage. “I know honey, I know. ‘M gonna get deeper, okay?” Aaron groans. You nod wildly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face.

He steadies himself on the knee placed on the couch, lifting your legs up so either one sits on his big, broad shoulders.

The change in position caused your back to arch, your mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ shape as you struggled to keep your head on straight.“Mphm! You’re so - you’re so deep.” You cried out, tears brimming on your eyelashes. “I know I am, baby. But you can take it right?”

“Mhm! I can! I know I can!”

“You can take it because you’re mine right? Because you’re my good girl?”

His praise pushes you dangerously close to the edge, and you’re honestly convinced that the crescent shape of your nails will leave an imprint on the material forever. The couch cushions stick to your skin like glue, the so of skin hitting skin resounded throughout the room lewdly.

A hand lightly slapped your face, your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, puckering slightly.

“I asked you a question, didn't I sweetheart?”

“You did, you did! ‘M sorry. ‘M your good girl, please.”

What you were begging for, you didn’t know; was it mercy? Was it a desperate call for your sanity? Whatever it was could wait, because you were going to cum.

“Gah! God, Aaron, ‘m gonna cum! Help me cum, please.” You begged again. “I got you honey.”

Aaron’s hand slithered down your body before landing on your clit, a calloused thumb drawing it around in firm circles. Your body moved and convulsed violently, your moans growing in volume – you’re sure you’re going to receive a noise complaint in the mail later.

That coil in your stomach threatened to snap, and all you could think to say was, “Cum with me?”

To be frank, Aaron was ready to cum a few thrusts before, but he was always one to prolong his pleasure if that meant satisfying you.

“Of - of course.” He stuttered, his dominance slowly slipping away from him.

Aaron bent forward just a little more to test how far he could push you, and though you were sure your muscles were going to ache when everything died down, but God, this was so, so worth it.

“F- fuck!” You swore as you came.

Everything disappeared for a moment besides the sound of Aaron’s guttural groan that sounded more like a loud, long-drawn-out whimper than anything when he came too.

You were slowly brought back to reality by Aaron massaging your sore muscles, gently twisting them and rubbing out any potential knots that threatened to form. You knew he'd disappear in a minute to grab something to wipe you down with, but you couldn’t seem to find it within your post orgasmic bliss to care.

“Mm, that’s nice.” You rasped, your eyelids fluttering open to face your disheveled boyfriend. His hair was all out of place in the best way possible, his bare body shining in a clear sheen of sweat. If you weren’t so tired, you think you’d jump straight to a round two.

“I’m sure,” Aaron’s voice was just as hoarse as yours. “I think I pushed your body a bit too far.”

“Don’t get started, Aaron.” You chided lightly. “It was perfect, okay? You were perfect. Now get up here.”

You dragged him from where he was and laid his body on top of yours.

“Down.” You demanded playfully. “I’m heavy, honey.”

“Don’t care.” You exaggerated the ‘don’t’ and pulled the rest of him down.

“I want to lay like this for a minute.”

“Alright,” Aaron nodded to himself. “I can do a minute.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

Text

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

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moonlight-records · 3 months ago

Text

Hole in one | LH44 & LN4

pairing: LH44 x Reader x LN4

summary: your boyfriends want to go golfing on a rarely non-busy day but your mind has other ideas seeing how hot your boyfriends are. luckily, you're not the only one who thinks golfing isn't the only hole in one today--

warning: age gap between lewis & partners, semi-threesome, dom/sub dynamics, mention of eating out, mention of sex, mention of overstimulation, semi-free use(?), cockwarming, blowjob, semi-public exhibitionism (aka car sex), mmf threesome sorta???, edging, facial, mention of medication.

fc: none!

a/n: I KNOW THE TITLE IS CHEESY. DOES IT MAKE SENSE?? IDK AND IDC. It's late and i used my brain power for the smut--don't look at me

wc: 4.1K

God, you were certain you were going to go straight to hell. Poor boys just wanted a nice bonding day and you were imagining their hands helping you get out of this golfing outfit.

The thought crossed your mind glancing between the two Brits who were currently standing by the golf tee happily talking while you looked between the two trying to figure out which one you wanted to take first.

First, Lando was in those black golf shorts and that stupid black wife beater. You had so much to look at that you didn’t where you wanted to focus on first. Between the vein that pops out of his neck when he swings to his hands that gripped the gold club the way you wish he would grip your hair to his muscles just on full display along with a gorgeous tan that would look so much better with marks from you. Your eyes kept linger up to that curly mullet he had just gotten and you wet your lips because damn it. That mullet was just coaxing you to run your fingers through and grab and yank. Maybe you could get a hold of that chain and—

There was some laughter as a darker male nudged Lando with his shoulder. Lewis was the polar opposite of Lando.

While Lando looked like he had just rolled out of bed ten minutes before his ride came, Lewis was dressed like he was always on the golf course. A cream (you think it’s cream anyway) woven short sleeve polo and green golfing pants. The pants fit Lewis in a way that you could clearly see a little bit more than typically bargained before. You learned that the hard way by hole 3 when you realized Lewis did not have his hands in his pocket and now at hole 11, you were disrespectfully staring at any chance you got. When you couldn’t, you took to staring at all the different tattoos that you could see on his arms and watching his muscles. What you wouldn’t give for those damn tatted biceps putting your head in a headlock.

God, what do people call this duo?

Pairs??

You squint when the rare sunlight is suddenly in your eyes before a figure steps to the side slightly to give you shade. The gentle swipe of a thumb across your bottom lip snaps you back into reality.

“Something distracting you, love?”

Your face flushes almost immediately when Lando speaks to you. You avert your eyes while clearing your throat before letting out a soft noise of surprise when Lando lets his hand slip just underneath your jaw and forces your head up just an inch higher. You look back at him and blink because wow. The guys were right. You really did just need a few touches from either of them to turn into a mess.

“Sweetheart,” Lando murmurs while leaning down, “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“Yeah..”

“You haven’t answered me. You know I don’t like repeating myself but you are just too cute like this so I’ll ask one more time. Is there something distracting you, love?”

“Oh!” You start, “Oh no—not really—” you ramble out and sit up a bit straighter when Lando sits next to you in the golf cart, resting an elbow on the steering wheel as his hand moves back to his chin, swiping his thumb on your lower lip, “just thinking about…things,” you murmur while nodding, more so trying to convince yourself then Lando, “that’s all.”

“What were you thinking about?” He smirks.

You squirm slightly under his gaze while glancing at Lando before letting your gaze drift around. Nobody else was around, which wasn’t a surprise considering you and your boyfriends decided to go golfing only an hour after the rain stopped even though the clouds still hung around, the sun was coming out. At least Lewis was kind enough to tip the workers very well as a thank you. Speaking of, your gaze lands on Lewis who is still by the golf tee, texting someone intensely which means Lewis is distracted.

Glancing back, you’re met with sea green eyes that meet your gaze. There’s a dark fire burning in them that you know screams lustful trouble. You knew better than to give into this temptation. You were in public for christ sake and the last thing you wanted was to get in trouble but you’ve been dying to get your hands on his mullet and it’s right here.

Trouble be damned, you slide closer to Lando, letting a hand make its way around his neck and you start to run your fingers carefully through his curly mullet. You gently scratch his neck as Lando rests his head on your shoulder. You gasp silently when warm lips brush against your neck teasingly. You bite your bottom lip harshly feeling Lando nip at your neck to stay quiet as you press your thighs together. You yank his hair slightly feeling his hand slide between your thighs.

“Lando,” You murmur as a warning trying to close your legs.

“Shhh,” Lando murmurs in your ear. You shiver hearing that stupid smirk in his words as a finger traces the waistband of your skirt on your skin shifting so one of his legs caught yours and forced your legs open for him. You whine softly as his hand starts to slip under the waistband.

You gasp when Lando’s head is yanked back and your eyes flick up to Lewis, standing behind Lando while holding his head back to look up at the older Brit. Lewis is looking down at Lando before his gaze finally makes it over to you and he raises a brow, “what do we have, here?” Lewis asks.

You stare at the older male then at Lando because you have two options. You can either go down with the ship or save yourself. Typically, you’d probably go down with Lando but you were still recovering from two nights ago when you and Lando decided to send Lewis some rather risky photos while he was at the factory. The memory of being being sat in Lewis lap having orgasm after orgasm from Lando, who was on his knee for that entire time eating you out and that was about a good…two hours before Lewis had showed you some mercy by letting you lay on the couch while Lewis had Lando bent over the coffee table an apologizing mess.

“I tried to warn him.” You admit to Lewis.

“Y/N!” Lando manages before he groans slightly when Lewis tugs his hair a bit more while Lewis leans over him, "Sorry,” Lando breaths out.

Lewis shakes his head while looking down at him, “you just love to cause trouble don’t you, you fucking brat,” Lewis smirks at Lando’s feigned innocent smile. He looks at you and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up. “Meanwhile, Y/N over here is being such a little angel for me.”

“She is not,” Lando breathes out, “She was enjoying it more than what she’s leading on.”

Lewis hums softly and thinks it over, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. I did interrupt before anything fun could happen, but.” Lewis leans down, “it seems that out of the two of you, you typically are the one that initiates trouble and y/n has such a pure heart to not let you get punished on your own. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You bit your bottom lip gently while nodding in agreement, “That’s right.”

“See? She’s so kind,” Lewis praises as he leans over to give you a peck, “unlike a certain brat.”

“Well, someone has to keep things lively,” Lando muses, “Besides I never hear either of you complain.”

“You’re right, we don’t complain,” Lewis starts, “we love it very much but sometimes, we just want an easy and I just want you to behave for me. Like today, it was supposed to be an easy day with golfing and cuddling but now I have to punish you for misbehaving.” Lewis shakes his head softly, “what am I going to do with you?” Lewis hums looking between the two of you and grins, “I know exactly what to do.”

It was a miracle that the golf cart made it back to its area in one piece. Even though it only went up to 20 miles per hour Lewis made it feel like it was going much faster with how determined he was to get the three of you off the course after telling Lewis your idea. Lando was growing more excitedly anxious while you sat between the two of them, curious to see what is suppose to happen.Lewis had given you the keys to the Mercedes, telling you and Lando to head over early as he wrapped up and you happily obliged with Lando giving Lewis a mock salute and following.

“Lando,” you start when you two are close to the car when Lando is pressing against your back, kissing his neck. Lando murmurs something into your skin as you tilt your head to give Lando better access as you unlock the car. You get the back door open before you yelp when Lando gives a sharp slap to your ass, whipping around, “Lando!”

“What?” He feigns innocence as he pulls you close by your hips. He lets his hands travel down to your ass to gently rub soothing circles where he slapped before grabbing your ass, “Am I supposed to just stare? Can’t touch it now?”

You giggle softly while wrapping your arms around his neck. You let Lando back you up to the car as you hum softly, “I suppose that wouldn’t be fair.”

Lando grins before leaning down and catching your lips in a kiss. You let a hand find its way back into the mullet as Lando tilts your head, deepening the kiss. You moan softly which gives Lando a chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He stumbles you backwards, breaking the kiss to help you into the back seat before climbing in after you. He shuts the door but something stops it and Lando whips his head around to see Lewis holding the door handle. “Oh,” he says breathlessly and laughs, “Lew. Jesus.”

“Sorry,” Lewis chuckles sheepishly, “didn’t have the heart to interrupt the show.”

You giggle softly while scooting over so Lewis could climb in. Once he was in, you comfortably sat back in your corner watching Lewis pull Lando into a searing kiss by the back of his neck. You fanned yourself watching because it should not be as hot as it was watching Lando just crumble under Lewis’ touch slowly but surely. When they finally pulled away to catch their breath, you didn’t even want to join in. You were much happier just sitting in your corner watching Lando turn into a mess as the curly hair driver was now straddling Lewis, kissing and nipping at his neck for more attention.

You lock eyes with Lewis and he just nods his head slightly. You immediately crawl over and Lando lets out a huff when Lewis shifts him to straddle one thigh while you straddle the other. You’re cupping Lewis’ face and kissing him stupid. You pull back before slinking off of Lewis thigh.

You and Lewis work together to get into position. Lewis manages to turn Lando before having him sit in Lewis' lap. While Lewis pulls Lando’s into another kiss, you move yourself to the floor. It’s a bit tighter than you anticipated but you made it work. You glance up, seeing Lando’s with his head back on Lewis shoulder gasping and whining. Lewis was murmuring in his ear while one hand was up Lando’s shirt playing with his nipples while the other was loosely messing with Lando’s belt. He glances down when you gently push Lewis’ hand away from Lando’s belt before undoing it.

You stick your tongue out as you fiddle with the belt while Lando squirms above. You huff before smacking his inner thigh gently causing him to yelp out of shock, “stop moving!” You tell him as you get the belt undone before undoing Lando’s shorts.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You ask.

“Could you do me a big favor?” Lewis asks, “could you go into the glove compartment and grab me the travel lube? Please?”

“Of course!” You take a hot minute to turn so your back is to your boyfriends and lean over the counsel and just get the glove compartment open. You shift to lean a bit more as you dig through, listening to the sound of kisses and soft gasps and whines. “Oh, was someone eager?” You hear Lewis behind you, “Was a good enough boy to at least your butt plug.” You put your lips together tightly as if you were eating a lemon to keep from laughing out loud as Lando just murmurs something before he groans out in pleasure before he tries to quiet himself.

“Found it!” You announce happily as you lean back offering the travel lube to Lewis. The second that it’s out of your hand you’re leaning forward to close the glove compartment while behind you Lewis and Lando shuffled around before Lando . When you turn around, Lando is now sitting in Lewis’ lap. He was panting slightly his back against Lewis chest, shorts and boxers now pulled down, face flushed.

“Ah, there we go,” Lewis purrs while hooking his chin on Lando’s shoulder. You watch Lewis’s hands moving down to stroke Lando’s cock, making you kneel right there as he does so, “You’re very pretty as a brat,” Lewis whispers but besides Lando’s gasps and whines, you can hear Lewis, “but you’re much prettier when you’re like this.” Lando manages out a breathless “Yes sir,” while gripping Lewis’ arm like a lifeline.

Lewis drags his teeth against Lando’s neck, finally biting a mark on his pretty skin (which you’re jealous of since you’ve been wanting to do that all day) but you’re getting more flustered while looking semi-embarrassed, turning as red as Ferrari’s suit and ducking your head. But Lewis is quick to snap his fingers and motions for you to rest his head against Lando's bare thigh while he works. You hesitate but do what is asked with Lewis praising you, "just keep looking here baby. Don't look away from how pretty Lando's being for you,” and Lewis goes back to working Lando up. "See? Look at how well behaved Y/N is? You see what happens when you behave? You get rewarded. We should probably do something to reward her...right?"

You watch Lando swallow a strangle cry probably because the three of you were in a mainly empty parking lot and currently doing—this. You see Lewis use his free hand to slip up Lando’s shirt to grab his chin, forcing the younger Brit to look at him, “Well? Do you think Y/N deserves a reward?” “I—mm yeah,” Lando manages out, “but I thought—”

“Oh trust me. I didn’t forget about you.” Lewis grins and kisses him, “you are going to sit here on my cock so pretty for me while Y/N enjoys her reward and let us just use you how we see fit, is that okay?” Grabbing his jaw a bit harsher, “and the only time you can cum is when I decide. Understood?”

Lando whines but nods. “I—yes sir,” Lando says softly while digging his nails a bit more into Lewis' skin, “I understand.” Lewis hisses feeling Lando digging into his arm. In return, Lewis leans down to nip at Lando’s neck, leaving another mark while rolling his hips up. Lando arches his back and moans loudly, squirming slightly. “Oh fuck—”

Lando completely ignores the reaction he pulls from the younger driver while using his free hand to brush your cheek. He shifts a little further forward and ushers you up. "Come on, you’ve earned a reward for being so good and not following this brat’s lead for trouble. Go on," He urges, nodding his head before you get the picture. You look up at Lewis and Lando before adjusting your kneeling position the best you can.Then you duck your head and wrap your lips around Lando’s cock, replacing Lewis’ hand. Immediately, you hollow your cheeks out when you start sucking the other off.

“Such good sweethearts, both of you,” Lewis says above directed at both of you. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks and neck as your lips stretch over the girth of Lando’s cock. It earns a strangled cry from Lando as Lewis speaks. "Fuck you two are just too pretty," he moans, rolling his hips up into Lando, earning another gasp and moan as Lando bucks his hips forward slightly. It causes you to choke on Lando briefly and when you pull back, there's a string of spit connecting your lips to Lando still. “Oh are you okay sweetheart?” Lewis purrs softly, “Lando isn’t being rude, right?”

“No, no he’s not being rude. Just, surprised was all,” you admit.

“Well, why don’t you take a bit of a break?”

You blink and nod slightly as you lean back, panting softly. You press your thighs together when you’re reminded just how strong these drivers are as you watch Lewis grab Lando’s hips hard enough to lease bruises before Lewis is practically using Lando as a toy. You watch Lewis manage to pick Lando up before slamming him down. Lando’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he grips onto Lewis, doing exactly what he was told. Sitting there, looking pretty, and letting you two use him however you two saw fit.

Really this shouldn't be turning you on as much as it is, but it is. Lewis is really hot when he gets all commanding like this, switching off from fucking Lando senseless to you sucking Lando off while Lando is being pampered and gets the praises he deserves and looks so sexy as he’s begging Lewis to show him any mercy and - you stick your tongue on the underside the younger drivers's cock, swallowing him down even more, some of your hair falling in your face when Lewis gently guides your head back dow. You know that your jaw is probably going to be sore tomorrow and you probably won’t be able to get in this car for a bit without getting flustered but you do not care right now when your boyfriends are being this hot right now.

"Look at her, Lan," Lewis breathes when he sees you giving into the job, "look at how much she's loving this,” you glance up seeing Lewis pampering Lando in kisses. Lando was breathing heavily, face and chest flushed. Hair stuck to his forehead from sweat while his cheeks were slick with both sweat and tears. His eyes are slightly red and glassy but he seems so gone in subspace. Lando almost sobs when you deep throat him, burying his face in Lewis neck as his hands fly to your hair to find purchase, holding onto your hair as you start bobbing your head again, randomly deep throating him to keep things interesting.

Pulling off, you pant while looking up, biting your bottom lip as you smile when Lewis strokes your cheek, “Oh, what a good little slut for you’re being - and only for us.” Lewis starts, “You think it’s time for Lando to have mercy?” You look your other boyfriend over and nod. “Okay. Well, how do you want him? Down your throat or all over your face? Tell me what you want."

Your brain short circuits because you swore that Lewis was going to make this decision, not you. This feels like a big decision and you aren’t really sure what to pick as you squirm in your spot, “I—um,” you start before Lewis is grabbing your hair and guiding you to look up at him a bit harshly, "Y/N," Lewis warns, "you have to use your words. Or we will stop and I will fuck Lando silly in the backseat and neither of you will get off. You understand me, don’t you? Tell me what you want."

You let your mouth fall open before closing your mouth and swallowing the lump in your throat. As much as you would love to see your boyfriends have sex, the idea of not getting off was the only thing that made the idea slightly unappealing. This was your reward so you found it a bit rude that you were now in the position where you couldn’t properly enjoy it. “I k—I understand sir,” you correct yourself swiftly, “I—” might as well go big since you’re already here giving a blowjob in a car, “I want Lando to come on my face, please.”

“Such a pretty slut,” Lewis whispers to you while gently pulling you up closer to him. You shift before he pulls you in into a kiss so searing that neither of you remember how long it lasts but he knows when it's done, he has both you and him gasping for air. “Whatever our princess wants is what she gets. He murmurs, “Now why don’t you sit back.” You nod quickly as you sit back. Lewis makes Lando look and he groans seeing the state you were in and you could only imagine how you looked. Lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. Lando tries to look away but Lewis catches his chin and forces him to look while his other hand replaces your lips and starts to stroke Land again. "Come on baby," he goads, moving them closer, angling them so his cock is pointed right at your face. "Give her what she wants. Paint his pretty whore face," he growls, the slick making an obscene noise. "Y/N, open your fucking mouth and stick our your tongue," he commands, voice rough. Your eyes widen for a second but you also follow that command, hands resting on Lando's knees and opening his mouth, waiting patiently. "See love?" Lewis whispers, pressing his lips to Lando's temple. "See how good she's being? Now be good for us and come over Y/N's face, yeah? Paint it for us."

Lando is so overstimulated between Y/N and Lewis that he can’t even remember his own name right now. He whines loudly when Lewis shifts slightly to kiss Y/N, feeling Lewis shift inside him and god if he didn’t get to finish soon, he was going to become the worst possible person for Lewis to handle. He groans loudly, melting into Lewis chest while jerking his hips into Lewis hand, eyes closed and head tipped back. He forces his head up to look at you and he lets out a strangled noise because oh fuck. You should not look this gorgeous right now with your tongue out and eyes on him. "Uh huh," Lando manages because it’s all he can muster.

There’s no warning. No heads up. Not even a single noise. Lando’s orgasm hits him hard and fast and unsuspectingly that Lando just lets his mouth fall open silently as he arches his back, legs shaking, and eyes rolling into the back of his head. Lewis is murmuring praises while running his free hand through Lando’s hair while you get a second to close your eyes because the last thing you want is seamen in the eye. You open your eyes when Lewis gently coaxes you to. Both Lando and Lewis moan softly seeing the absolute mess Lando made of your face. You blush slightly before you close your mouth and swallow whatever made it onto your tongue before sticking your tongue out again.

“Such a good princess for us,” Lewis praises, “did you enjoy your reward?”

“I did.”

“Did someone learn why they need to behave?” Lewis asks.

Lando hums while slumped against Lewis' chest, “yeah,” he murmurs, “I did. Not going to change anything.”

“We wouldn’t want it any other way,” you giggle and Lewis laughs.

“Okay baby,” Lewis rubs Lando’s back, “think you’d be good sitting for a bit while Y/N and I finish up?”

Lando groans softly and whines, “noooo,” he starts. “Just–five minutes?” Lando asks.

You sit next to Lewis and giggles softly while kissing Lando’s other temple, “sure baby. I can wait five minutes. I’m not in a rush. Babe?”

“I can manage waiting five minutes,” Lewis smiles as you and Lewis happily smother Lando into kisses. That is until Lando becomes a bit more coherent and stupidly says,

“You know this is the first time I lasted more than 10 minutes off my meds…oh my god. It’s like–a hole in one–”

“BOOOOOO.”

“Lando, that was horrible–”

“GOD FORBID I SPEAK THE TRUTH–”

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my-castles-crumbling · 4 months ago

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train - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 474

"I used to believe in love at first sight. My parents always told me this story about how the first time they saw each other, they knew. And I thought that same thing would happen to me. Maybe that's why I bothered Evans for years, even though we obviously were not meant for each other.

"But the first time I saw you, it wasn't love. It was a ten-second 'hello' on the train, and I was much more focused on playing pranks on unsuspecting Slytherins with my mates. I didn't know at the time that I'd just met the person that would change my life, you know? But I did, and Gods I feel like I wasted that moment.

"But maybe...Can 'love at first sight' happen later? I think so. Remember that Quidditch game during my sixth year, your fifth? That was my 'love at first sight.' When you looked at me like you absolutely hated me and told me if I got anywhere near you, you'd knock me off my broom. Gods, that was so hot. I couldn't look away at that moment, really. Couldn't look away ever again.

"And then, of course, I panicked. Because I couldn't possibly be in love with you. No! Not that loving you is bad, obviously! It's bloody perfect! It's just, you know, you're a boy, and you're you, and, erm. Yeah. Anyway.

"When I realized it was going to take a lot of work to even get you to look at me, I didn't even care because I knew you were worth it, and we're worth it, and honestly, I'm always right. Because you are worth it, and we're obviously worth it, because you make me so happy. Like so happy. I've never been happier, honestly, like I don't shut up about you, it really annoys people, I think and- oh. Yeah I'm doing it again.

"Which is why I'm here, obviously. You've shown me that love isn't a stupid love at first sight fairy tale, it's so much better. Every day I spend loving you is better than the last, and all I want to do is make you happy. And plus, you're so beautiful and you make my heart melt and I think I would combust if I could call you my husband. So..maybe...would you marry me, Regulus? Please? Because I think I'll die if I can't be your husband."

Staring down at James, Regulus's brain was short-circuiting, so much so that all he could think to say was, "You really mentioned Evans in you proposal, James?"

But tears were flowing and he jumped into his boyfriend's arms before he could respond properly, kissing him soundly on the lips, almost knocking the ring out of his shaking hands.

"Yes, James. Of course I'll marry you, you idiot," Regulus whispered, grinning from ear to ear.

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mismatched-sockss · 8 months ago

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You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #💜 s.r.#--- mismatched🧦

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tan1shere · 4 months ago

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I'm Sorry

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: saw this video on tiktok of this girl accidentally breaking a gift her bf got her and her being so apologetic, and I can just imagine how bill would be with you:(

Summary: Billie reassures you when you accidentally break her gift.

Warnings: none just fluff ! Kinda angst tho ??

Masterlist

It was time again. Your birthday, just another year of getting older. You were currently laying in bed, half asleep as the sun was shining through the curtains. You then feel hands on your shoulders. "Babyy, its your birthday!" Billie sings as she says that. You cover your face. "Does it have to be." She plops down on the bed. "Oh come on, it's not every day you're 21!" You open an eye to see she had a few gifts. Your other eye opens as you look at her. "Bubba, I thought we agreed on two at most." She puts her finger up to your lips. "I couldn't help myself."

You sigh with a bright smile, sitting up to prepare for her little gifts. She hands you the first one, some clothes you had been wanting. Next up, some skin care. She was always so thoughtful of the things you needed. And lastly, maybe your favorite. You open up the wrapping revealing a glass red rose. You marvel at it. "I know how much you love roses and how upset you get when they start to die, but this way you can have it all the time." She smiles at you. Your eyes meet hers as you almost have tears in them. You leap over to hug her tightly.

"Thank you baby! I love it so so much." She smiles. "Knew you would." Her hands grab your face, thumb swiping over your cheek. "Happy birthday angel." She leans in to kiss you softly, so glad you like the gifts. "Some of them came from your mother. I put them in a vase already for you." You then kiss her cheek, placing the glass rose down on the bedside table. "Thank you babe, I'll go smell them soon."

A few days pass and you honestly had the best birthday ever, Billie was spoiling you like crazy. Took you out for a nice meal too. Today you were working from home, doing some needed chores along the way. Bill was at Finneases working on some stuff in his studio. You did take a small break though. Getting into bed and scrolling for a glass case to put around your new gift. Just to make sure it's safe. You go to grab your water, but as you do. Eyes glued to your screen. You hear a shatter. Uh oh. Your head turns slowly.

Panic rising within you. "Fuck. No no no." You say frantically trying not to freak out. You get on the floor picking up the pieces. Shit. It was really broken. You cry. Cry because you broke the sweetest gift, given by the sweetest person and you broke it. You curse at yourself. You feel so stupid. You're an idiot your brain tells you.

How.

Could.

You.

You grab the pieces, but as you do you accidentally cut your finger. "Shit!" You winced. How could this get any worse. You pick up any remaining shards. Standing up and contemplating. She was gunna hate you. You thought. You don't blame her, you had only just got it. Your hands go to your hair, all these bad thoughts rushing through. You were going to have a shower after you got the case. But now you don't even need the case because you stupidly broke the rose. So. Stupid. Your tears still streaming down your face, you felt so awful. The image of Billie being so hurt right after she was so excited giving it to you.

You get into the shower, sliding down the wall. All you could think about was how she was going to react when she comes home. The hot water ran over your crying form. You hadn't even heard the front door open and Billie calling out like she always does. Until you hear faint footsteps and the bathroom door open. "Baby?" Had she seen it yet...

"Y-yeah.." You reply, she opens up the curtain to see you in the position you were in. Confused as anything. "What's going on love?" She always knew when something was bothering you. "I'm so sorry." You pathetically cry out. "Baby, talk to me." She says stopping the water from running. You just shake your head, lip quivering. "Sweetheart, please." You take a moment. "Don't hate me." You weakly say. "How could I ever?" Her bewilderment made your heart ache more for what you are about to tell her.

"Go look on my bedside floor." Your voice was hushed. So incredibly worried as she goes to do so. Her eyes land on the last little bits of glass, looking at the shattered mess on your table. Her heart breaks, but not because you broke it and most definitely by accident. It was because you were so upset, she hated seeing you upset. She comes back in the room to you still in tears. "Bub, hey. It's ok." - "it's not. Im so sorry I'm so-" She stops your apologies. "Baby. We can fix it. It's fixable. And if not I'll just buy you another. I swear to you. It's all ok."

Her voice was tender. So soft and reassuring. Your crying settles just a bit. "Are you sure?" She nods. "So incredibly sure. I'm not mad my girl, never ever would be." Her hand extends out for yours. You take it and get out of the shower. "Are you hurt?" You pout at how sweet she was, you loved this woman to absolute death. "What?" She chuckles. You just shake your head. "Youre just so kind, I love you." She brings you in for a hug, you wrap your arms tightly around her. She couldn't give a single fuck that your body was dripping wet.

It lasted for a long time, before she pulls back and looks at you. "I did just a tiny bit but I'm ok." You state. "Where abouts?" You show her the red mark on your thumb, she grabs it. Bringing it to her lips as kissing it gently. "Like I said before if we can't fix it I'll buy a new one, this time with a case."

"Great idea."

#billie #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish angst

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cvntluver444 · 6 months ago

Note

7 mins in heaven w ellie😇😇😇😇

thank you so much for your request and your support love!! <3

✞ 7 minutes ✞

✿ summary : the request!

✿ warnings : smut minors/men (boys) dni, puss rubbing, dirtyy talk, shy reader, sweet ellie, ellie teaching reader, reader is in closest!!!!!!, mentions of reader in str@ight relationship, almost getting caught!, if i missed any lmk pls!

✿ a/n : thank you for supporting my works as always! this is not my best work bc i used all my creative brain juice on my last fic so i am so sorry! unfortunately, i am headed back to school this weekend so my writing is going to slow down, but i'm not stopping don't worry babies. im hoping to put out 2-3 fics a week still!!!! keep sending in those requests! I have one more to work on, so to the anon who requested it its coming i promise my love!!!!

ALSO i did kind of make this a personal fic im so sorry LMAO basically i just explain how when i finally realized i was gay YAYAYA !!!!!!! but yeah warning again the reader in this is based on me so it is like finding out you're into girls later on kind of thing so if this is something you're not interested in feel free to skip! I hope you like it lucy!!! (idk if that's your real name im just going to call u that teehee) i love you all so much! muah

✿ as always, please remember to keep spreading information on and support Palestine!!

daily click

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you anxiously played with your fingers as the last of the party guest gathered around the huge circle. your friends and you decided to spend your saturday night at one of your classmates party, resulting in you now dreading your turn in the 'truth or dare' game.

"you okay?" you turn your head to your left as your eyes land on your friend, who clearly could pick up on how nervous you looked.

"yeah i'm fine," you tell her. "just hope i don't have to do anything stupid or embarrassing. she laughs at your comment.

"don't worry, i doubt you'll even get picked. there's a lot of people here and were all drunk so, who cares!'. her shouts fills the room, drawing a couple eyes toward the two of you. you giggle and hide your face, trying to tell her to keep it down. in the midst of shushing her, your eyes graze the room, watching people roll their eyes at her behavior. but your eyes catch someone else's and you freeze.

ellie williams

she sends you a soft smile, a dark look in her eyes. you gulp and look away quickly. god, she was so hot you thought. you hope she couldn't how flustered she made you. you hope no one could. your whole life, you've always had no problems catching boys' attention. you could have a whoever, whenever, but with this luxury came its flaw. you never actually liked the boys you went out with, you just loved being loved, being in a relationship. you never understood why you felt that way, but just continued on normally, not giving yourself a chance to actually explore more about yourself. but when you first met ellie freshmen year, the feelings finally became visible, especially after finding out she was also into girls; however, you were still not sure if she felt the same. This caused you to once again burry your feelings and close yourself up. You were too scared, and way too sober to even try to talk to ellie.

suddenly, a loud voice can be heard yelling throughout the house. "truth or dare starting now in living room," on boy shouted. your palms became sweaty and you prayed that everyone would pick up on your uncomfortableness and just leave you alone. as always though, the world likes to work in funny ways, and you feel a large presence sit next to you and tap you on the shoulder.

"hey," the boy smiles, "cool if i sit here?" you just give me a simple nod of your head and continue your attention elsewhere, your thoughts interrupted once again. "you look good tonight, by the way". you turn back around, and give him a quiet thanks, and before he could respond, everyone around you begins to pick who will go first for the game.

after three or four people went, you began to grow annoyed. the man next to you could not take the hint, and you were the only person here not having a good time.

"alright williams," the room cheers silently, "truth or dare". your attention is now fully on ellie. she stares up at her friend who just picked on her, small smirk on her face as she answers with a confident dare. "hmmm," her friend hums out loud, looking around the room. you swear you see their eyes stop on yours for a second, before they get an idea. "i dare you to do 7 minutes in heaven," they pause and the room is filled with oooo's. your heart drops a bit. "a person of your choosing." now everyone was going crazy. everyone knew ellie was gay, and everyone knew she made every girl gay, so it was a pretty heavy dare.

ellie smiles up at her friend, sage you think their name is, before she slowly starts scanning the room. you quickly look down, hoping that your avoided eye contact would make you more invisible. your only focus now was watching your fidgeting fingers and giving back half asses answers to the man beside you who still will not shut up.

you hear ellie suck in her breathe before she slowly gets up from the ground. all you wanted to do in this moment was sink into the ground, not sure how you were going to handle seeing ellie pick another girl that isn't you and go fuck her in the closet. too deep in your thoughts, you don't hear the air leave your friends lungs as a certain someone stalks towards you. you only know ellie is right in front of you once you see the beat up sneakers sneak right under your vision.

your eyes widen and you cant breathe. there has to be someone behind you right? no, she could not pick you. in fear that you would be disappointed when looking up, you keep your head down, telling yourself that you're just-

your friend next to you quietly says your name, excitement laced in her voice. she was the only one you told, the only one you could trust with something so personal to you, so to say she was absolutely ecstatic to see ellie pick her best friend, well that was an understatement.

after your quick reality check, your line of vision trails from the top of her feet, all the way to her line of vision, where you see hear towering over you, smirk on her face. you felt like you were going to throw up.

"wanna come with me?" she asks you, that little smile never leaving her face. you look around the room, everyone in just as much shock as you. you look back at ellie, and without thinking twice, you nod your head yes.

she grabs her hand out for you to take, and you two make your way into the closet in between the living room and kitchen, but not before ellie yells something along the lines of keep yourselves busy, and don't be pervs. you feel like you're dreaming, you can't believe ellie williams picked you. but suddenly, you're brought back into reality when she closes the closet and turns on her phone flashlight.

"so," she begins, "how's your night been." you now grow extremely insecure at how little you've been talking to her, not knowing exactly what to do next considering you've never been with a girl.

"oh uh," you begin, "it's been okay. what about yours?" stupid stupid stupid.

"pretty good. saw that guy talking to you. you looked uncomfortable so thought i would save you." she gives a light giggle, but your heart drops and you look at her with sad eyes.

"oh uh yeah haha thanks," you attempt to say, sadness clearly laced in your voice. ellie picks up on it.

"are you okay? did he do anything?" she asks you, coming closer, concern reading all over her face. you blush at how much she cares about you.

"no, no, he didn't do anything, just was annoying," you let out a breathy laugh. "i guess i just thought that we were gonna, ya know, since you picked me, um, never mind this is stupid." your cheeks are now red with embarrassment, and ellies face softens at your rambling.

"aw, no sweetie. just because i picked you doesn't mean we have to do anything. i know you're not into girls." she gives you a friendly tap on the shoulder. ouch. your heart has now sank completely, and you slowly go to reach for the closet door handle. ellie looks confused, before she panics and grabs your hand.

"where are you going? it hasnt been 7 minutes yet sweetheart," she asks you.

"i was just gonna go back. kinda boring just doing nothing here." you tell her sadly.

"well, what do you want to do?" she still hasn't caught on? at this point, you feel like you will never get another chance again. with your ego still a little boosted that she chose you, you answer her.

"i wanna kiss you, ellie," you tell her. she freezes in the spot she's in before she slowly relaxes and relief washes over her face.

"i wanna kiss you too." she tells you. you look up at her, hope in your eyes, and she slowly grabs yours chin with her fingers and pulls you towards her. your lips meet and you both slowly start to make out. now you know why it was called 7 minutes in heaven. pleasure rushed through your body, and you instantly melted into the kiss. it was the first time you actually felt something when kissing someone, and in the bliss of this new feeling, you now put your arms around her shoulders.

the kiss deepens and turns more sinful as ellies hands now trail down to your ass and give it a light squeeze. you moan into her mouth and she groans back in response. her hands now start exploring your body, covering every inch of you until they make their way down towards your loose jeans. you quickly pull away, feeling like a complete virgin even though this kind of stuff is nothing new to you.

"woah, hey, you okay? we can stop if you want," ellie tells you, scared that she may have gone too far.

"no ellie its not you, its just," you try to find the right words. "i've never actually been with a girl before." you tell her, shame written all over your features. she lightly grabs your face once more as she gives you another passionate kiss.

"im happy to help you through it, and if you ever want me to stop, you just tell me." she explains, leaving light kisses all over you exposed next and chest. you moan out as you give her your permission to continue. her lips find her way back to yours, taking control of the kiss. in between each breath, she made sure to tell you how beautiful you were, and how much she had been dreaming of this. you return the compliments, gasping when ellie now picks you up and leans you down on the closet floor.

now on top, she puts all her weight on her elbow, as the other one trails down from your chest, then your stomach, to finally the place where you needed her the most. still kissing you, her fingers undo your buttons. once your jeans were shoved down, and your panties moved to the side, ellie breaks the kiss.

you whine from the loss of contact, and she shushes you. "is it ok if i touch you?" she asks you politely.

"yes, ellie. please touch me," you beg her. "want you so bad." her lips suddenly reconnect with yours, and her fingers start rubbing light circles on your clit. you moan as she teases you, never feeling this way with any guy you've ever been with.

"you make the prettiest noises," she tells you, nipping at your lips. "fuck, and you're so wet too." her talking alone brings you even closer to your high, another new feeling.

you feel her fingers now trail down and tease your entrance, making the most sinful sound. she bites her lips, then starts pumping two fingers inside of you.

your eyes now roll to the back of your head and ellie falls to your side, the new position allowing her to finger you even faster. your head leans into her shoulder, and tears brim in your eyes from how good shes making you feel.

"faster, please," you beg, now staring into her eyes. the innocent look on your face causes her pussy the clench.

"yeah baby? you want me to go faster?" she teases you. "ill do anything for you beautiful." that was enough to send you over the edge, and you start to shake and she speeds up her motions.

"els" is all you can get out, but she knows exactly what you're trying to say, telling you to let go and cum all over her fingers.

and you're about to, until you hear yelling outside the closest door, and people are banging on your door, telling you seven minutes has passed.

you and ellie groan, and you're about to scream out of frustration, before ellies low voice cuts you off.

"i want you to get dressed and meet me outside my car, we can finish this at me." she tells you, a loving look on her face. you giggle and give her a quick peck, before jumping up and putting on your clothes.

you two come out of the closet, rushing towards the front door, completely ignoring all your friends and strangers random questions flying your way.

"where are they going?"

"are they holding hands?"

"do you think they did anything?"

"they so fucked."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

✿ a/n: heh, they came out the closet. anyways, like i said, very personalized im sorry i hit my penjamin and im in my feels but i really hope you guys liked it! my requests are still open! love you all so much and don't forget to follow because i post frequently!! <3

#ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfics #ellie williams x femme #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #lesbian #lesbians

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

no nut november - bangchan (4th to lose)

-> pairing : chan x fem!reader

-> words count : 3,1k

-> genre : smut, friends/sex friends to lovers

-> warnings : switch!chan, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, hair pulling, handbjod, manhandling, creampie, use of 'slut', a tiny little bit of angst because chan is overthinking + the way i'm depicting bangchan does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

November 18th, 10 pm, and all Chan was thinking about was you. Nonetheless, he should focus on what was going on behind his eyes, on his screen. But his mind was clearly not at it since this morning. He tried to work on his new song, on the lyrics, on the beat, on everything he could but nothing seemed to help.

Chan leaned into his desk chair, sighing and closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his thoughts from running. Without needing to concentrate this time, you immediately appeared to him. At first, it was just your beautiful smile when you were talking about the things you loved, or the way you had to sit on chairs, crossing your legs and making you look so tiny Chan wanted to protect you from the world. But then, it was like someone corrupted him. He could easily picture your blissed out face when you came around his fingers or cock, even more easily picturing your hands stroking his dick.

Chan sighed again, but that didn’t help him with his little problem. What would’ve helped him was if you were there with him. He saw his phone from the corner of his eyes, peacefully resting on his desk, and he hesitated for several minutes. What should he do ? Call you and lose ? Or just resist ?

Your relationship was pretty unusual, to say the least. Since the first time you saw each other, you clicked immediately. You were caring and calm, but once you started talking about something you loved, you were the most passionate person he knew. He loved it because you were always able to relax him just with your presence and voice, but he also loved the fact that you could be as energetic as him at other times.

But besides that, you were also someone who knew what she wanted. And you made it clear to him really quickly that he was what you wanted. And who was Chan to refuse such a proposal ? Obviously, he didn’t. But the more time passed, the more his feelings grew. And worst of all, he couldn’t stop it. Because you also made it clear that you didn’t want something serious, just being friends with benefits was fine, right ?

It was until Chan messed it all up with his feelings. But before his brain could even register it, he had grabbed his phone and called you already. Must do that quickly so he would not have the time to regret what he had done.

“- Long time no see Channie !”

The said Channie closed his eyes, feeling his heart skipping a beat hearing your voice. He stayed away from you since the start of this stupid bet, he didn’t realize until now how much he missed you, all of you.

“- Yeah… Sorry, I know I’ve been distant but…

- Don’t worry ! Binnie told me about it, I have no problem with that. And it’s kinda flattering.

- Flattering ?

- Yeah… It’s like you admitting you can’t control yourself when you see me, isn’t that right ?”

He gulped at your words. You were sadly not that far from truth, except the fact that it wasn’t only your body, but your all self that was tempting him, from the way you were clenching around him when you were about to come to your beautiful smile. Everything about you was a temptation to him, but he couldn’t admit it to you, nor was he able to stop all of that before hurting both of you.

“- You saw right through me again…

- I know you very well, I must admit.

- So you surely know why I call you ?

- Of course. I’m on my way.”

He could hear your smirk as you talked, and before he even had the chance to answer, you hung up. But you weren’t the type to lie, Chan knew you were gonna knock on his door in a matter of minutes, and he didn’t want to figure out why he felt a heavy weight on his heart.

________________

“- Missed this…”

Your lips trailed along his neck, licking and sucking on it, and Chan tilted his head to the side to grant you more access to his skin. His hands were gripping your thighs firmly, preventing you from moving away from him. Once you put one foot in his room, you didn’t let him think twice before pushing him back into his chair, straddling him and kissing him like you hadn’t tasted him in years.

“- Missed you Chan…”

His heart melted hearing your sweet voice saying you missed him. And God knows how much he missed you. So much. But he had to be realistic : you didn’t really miss him, you just missed his lips on yours, his hands on you, his dick in you. The facts were there, though. But Chan just decided to push it back and simply enjoy your lips on his and feeling your skin under his fingertips.

“- I missed you too…”

Your little smile made you look so hot, so hot he wanted to pin you down on his bed and ruin you. But he was weak, you made him weak. So weak you just needed to move slightly against him to get him to moan. And your smile widened at the sound, loving to actually hear the effect you had on him. You closed your eyes, starting to grind on him at the same time. Chan’s hands flew to your hips, pushing you down against his hard cock. You whined quietly, gripping on his shoulders for support.

“- What do you want me to do baby ? Just tell me.”

Your eyes were only focused on him, nothing else, and Chan felt overwhelmed. He wanted you to kiss him, to lick his body, to let him fuck you. He wanted you to do what you wanted, all of it, just because what he really wanted was to please you.

“- Whatever you want. I just need you.

- That’s why I’m here. My hands ?”

Chan nobbed and you pecked his lips one more time before backing off a little, allowing you more space to touch him. He saw you licking your lips while pulling off his shorts and boxer just enough to free his hard cock, and it was hot as hell. He should have been ashamed by the fact he was already leaking precum, but your hungry look threw away his last piece of dignity, leaving him entirely at your mercy.

“- You weren’t joking when you said you missed me, hm ?”

Once again, Chan should've felt ashamed, but you both knew you were right. The feeling of his own hands on him wasn’t quite the half of what he was feeling when it was your hands. Your lustful gaze was focused only on his throbbing dick, your teeth biting into the flesh of your plush bottom lip as you watched him chasing your touch. That was making it very difficult for him not to blow right away.

“- Feels good Channie ?

- Yeah… Keep going, please.”

You chuckled lightly at his pleading. He should have known how crazy he was driving you just by existing, not to mention the effect he had on you every time he turned into a stuttering mess under your hands, and it was even worse every time he decided to take control - and you let him do that happily every time. He should have known that he didn’t need to beg for it, that you were eager to please him whenever he liked.

You pushed your thumb against his flushed cockhead, making him gasp and whine under your touch, before spreading his precum along his now fully hard dick. Your wrist was moving way faster now, your fingers tightening around him. Chan closed his eyes shut, feeling his orgasm approaching too fast. He wanted to enjoy your touch some more, wanted you to look at him the way you did right now all the time - as if he was the only thing in your world. But he needed his sweet relief, he needed to finally let go of the tension and frustration of these past days.

“- Just a little more… Please…”

You almost moaned, only hearing his low voice begging you was enough for you to surrender and give him what he wanted. You quickened your pace one more time, leaning down to kiss him. And that was all he needed to completely let go, moaning in your mouth as he came hard, his vision becoming blurry and his head starting to spin.

Chan stayed still for a moment, trying to come down off his high. And when he finally opened his eyes again, it was to see you licking your fingers clean. That made something switch in him. You’d notice by the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched hard, the way his fingers dug into the skin of your hips.

Without saying a word, he stood up, placing his hands under your thighs to prevent you from falling. You were about to put your hands around his neck but he threw you on his bed, a whine leaving your throat when your back hitted the mattress. That. That was what you loved so much about Chan - he could be putty in your hands and the next second manhandling you like you weighed nothing.

You admired him as he tossed his clothes away, letting your eyes wander on his tough shoulders, his toned abs, his muscular thighs. You found yourself speechless every time you saw him naked. How could he not see how handsome he was ? You pressed your thighs together trying to suppress your growing desire as he hovered over you on the bed. In no time, he settled between your legs that you spread for him as soon as you felt his knee pushing against them, earning a growl of approval from him.

“- Take off your clothes.”

You didn’t think twice before doing it. You didn’t think at all in fact. His hungry gaze was burning you, so much you thought you’d explode if he didn’t touch you. Thankfully, he unfastened your belt, sliding your jeans and underwear down your thighs as you threw away your shirt and bra, ending up naked underneath his starved look. He immediately brought his hand to your core, pushing his thumb against your clit, making you whimper.

“- So wet already… Want me that much baby ?

- Yeah… Please Chan…”

He took your chin between two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him while he sucked off his thumb covered in your slit. And that was enough to make you whine, not only because he was so hot you wanted to bounce on his dick for hours, but also because you knew how much he loved every noise coming out of your mouth.

“- You’re really not going to stop teasing, hum ?”

Your smirk was telling it all, and Chan had enough of you and your filthy mouth. He just wanted to hear you cry and scream only his name, wanted to feel like he was the one made for you.

“- On all fours baby, and hang on tight.”

You gulped and just obeyed, as if your ability to speak had been removed from you. You settled yourself, and as soon as you stopped moving, he thrusted into you so roughly you would’ve crashed into the headboard if you weren’t gripping on it tightly. The sound you were letting out were animalistic, but you weren’t able to care anymore, not when Chan was pounding into you so hard you think you’ll split in two. But the worst was that you liked it so much, feeling like he could make you come with each thrust of his dick in you, even if he didn’t take the time to stretch you out, it was even more delicious.

“- C-Chan…”

You were interrupted by a loud moan when the man behind you buried himself even deeper inside of you, hitting all the right places at once. You tried to talk again, tell him that you needed more, but your words were coming out as an incoherent mumbling.

“- So dumb everytime I put my dick in you, aren’t you ? Just need me to fill up your tight cunt…”

You nobbed eagerly, unable to do something else than crying out his name. And that was driving him crazy, his chest filling up with pride knowing he was the only one to please you like that, to fuck you like that. One of his hands slid from your hips, all along your spine, spreading shivers on your skin, only to end up in your hair, grabbing a fistfull of them and forcing you to arch your back even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you. You were probably drooling, but you didn’t gave a fuck, simply moaning when Chan pulled your hair.

“- Look at you baby… Can’t even talk anymore…”

He tugged your hair harder, the nails of his other hand digging in the skin of your hips from how roughly he was guiding you on his cock.

“- Maybe I should shut you up like this more often, what do you think ?”

You wanted to say something, wanting to let him know he could use you whenever he wanted to and that you would absolutely adore it.

“- Would you like me to fuck you every time you talk back ?”

And like every other time, he knew what you wanted, saying all the things you needed to hear, doing all the things you needed him to do.

“- Please… P-Please Chan… I-I need to-”

Another thrust shut you down, reducing you to a mumbling mess. You felt tears pool under your eyelids as the pleasure hit you harder and harder with each thrust, tightening the coil in your stomach.

“- Use your words, slut.”

The nickname paired to the moan he left out when he felt you clench around his shaft made you feel dizzy, made you feel like you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“- N-Need to cum… S-Shit !”

Chan let go of your hair, your head falling back into the pillow, guiding his fingers directly on your clit, circling it harshly and sending you over the edge in less than a minute. Your moans were so loud you almost felt sorry for his neighbors. Almost because you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you were feeling so much pleasure you could’ve faint.

Your arms were numb, and your legs were shaking so much you would’ve passed out from the intensity of your orgasm if Chan wasn’t holding you. But his sloppy trusts were keeping you awake, aware of every move he was making, of every noise coming out of his mouth.

“- Fuck ! You’re so tight… Can I cum inside ?”

You couldn't help your smile, loving the fact that he kept asking you the same question, even though you both knew your answer would always be the same.

“- Yes, please…”

Chan moaned, and you could easily picture him throwing his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, face contorted by the pleasure he was feeling as his orgasm washed over him. You felt his hot cum being spilled out of your pussy as Chan slowed the pace of his thrusts until he stopped totally. You needed a long time to find your breath again, feeling the desire to sleep creeping on you quickly.

You didn’t react when Chan pulled out of you and helped you get on your back to clean you up. You hummed happily, feeling his touch as light as a feather on your thighs and whole body. You only came back to reality when he stroked your cheek, finding him smiling at you brightly.

“- Can I stay tonight ?”

You didn’t think about it, it just came out naturally, like it was where you should have been for a long time. It was strange to realize how much you wanted to sleep in his arms just now. But what felt even more right was his honest answer when he immediately said yes. You settled yourself comfortably in his arms, enjoying being engulfed by his warmth and scent.

“- Thank you for coming…”

You chuckled lightly against his chest, remaining playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“- You don’t need to thank me for that Channie, I’ll always be there for you no matter what happens.”

Chan stayed silent for a long time. He felt like it was the right time, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe he will scare you and ruin his chances to be with you one way or another. Maybe you will run away. Maybe you will tell him you just wanted him as a friend, just wanted him for sex. But he knew he could not keep up with this situation much longer.

“- I really did miss you… And not just only for… That… Think I might be starting to really like you.”

You said it almost in one breath, not wanting to lose your courage at the last second. You were aware that chances of him liking you back were very low, and you were aware it was you who had established the rules between you. But you also knew that you liked him much more than a friend or a fuck buddy. You liked all his little habits, even the ones he said were the most annoyings, you liked being the only one staying so late in his studio and getting to cuddle him even if he was busy as hell. You liked his smile, his tendency to always care for you, his ability of remembering all of these little details you even forgot telling him about.

“- Might take you on a date then… I want to do things right this time.”

You finally lifted your head up, meeting his nervous but shining eyes. You could feel his heart beating way faster under the palm that was still placed on his chest.

“- You did everything you could right. It’s me. I set up boundaries just to cross them out a few months later… And I was stupid to do that just because I was afraid of my feelings. I would love to go out with you.”

Chan kissed your forehead, and you sighed in relief. You didn’t realize until now how much you were craving this tenderness from him, and you couldn’t wait to finally be his official girlfriend to benefit from it every day, and so did Chan. You were all he could have ever dreamt of, and now you were in his arms. And he knew, for the first time of his life, that everything would be alright : with you by his side, he could only be alright.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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jeon-ify · 1 year ago

Text

thoughts- choi san ft. mingi

synopsis: while your boyfriend is traveling for a music video, you can’t seem to shake off sexual thoughts even for the slightest amount of time. you need a release, and who better to call than mingi’s best friend san?

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, reader cheats on mingi, san is a married man but cheats with reader, nipple play, breath play, rough sex, degradation, mingi calls san during sex, face slapping, pussy slapping, swearing, breeding kink (if you squint), etc. if i missed anything… let me know !

enjoy!

—————————————————————————————

with only 10 minutes left for mingi to head to the airport, you felt the sudden urge to bounce on mingi’s cock for no given reason, at the worst possible time. it’s always the worst moments that your brain and pussy decide to remix and come up with the worst scenarios at the most inconvenient times.

when you reached the airport, you helped mingi take his luggage out of the trunk of your car, getting ready to say goodbye to him. he closed the trunk, hugging you and taking in your scent before he leaves you for the next couple of weeks. though it was only 2 weeks, you can’t go any longer than that without mingi inside of you. you began to grow desperate for mingi right now, but you didn’t wait to tell him. the only thing you could tell him was “i love you, be safe. call me and text me as soon as you get to your hotel, okay?” and give him a kiss.

“i love you more, baby. don’t do anything stupid.” he reminds you as he kisses your forehead before he walks off.

“i won’t!” you shout behind him.

as you drive off, you immediately text mingi, in hopes that it’ll make time go by sooner.

y/n: baby :( how much longerrrr

y/n: miss u already mings </3

my mingi <3: baby? its only been like 3 minutes loll

my mingi <3: only 14 days left !!

turning your phone off with a sigh, you drive to find the nearest gas station. as you pump gas, you think about ways that you could wear off the sexual burden you’re carrying with you.

i could maybe masturbate or something?

you think. you’ve been touching yourself for far too long, afraid to ask mingi for sex, that he would get tired from how many rounds you’d ask for.

you go into the store to grab a redbull. as you pay and get into your car, you (hope to) brush off all sexual thoughts for the next two weeks.

3 DAYS LATER

“yeosang, are you at the house?” you say into the phone. you want to hang out with friends or have any human interaction after being locked up for 2 days because right now, no one is answering you. mingi must be busy, and your friends are busy too.

“no, san is there but its just him, why?” he’s quick to tell that something’s up, as you’d never call yeosang on your own.

“ok, can i go over? i’m hella bored and mingi’s busy. he’s not picking up my calls.”

“yeah, i’ll let him know you’re going over.”

“thanks, yeo.”

the call comes to an end, as you think about what you would even do at their house. you never go there without mingi. mingi never lets you go there on your own, knowing how his friends— san— are.

as you drive for the next 22 minutes, you decide to play music to possibly drown out all thoughts. you roll a window down, sip on redbull, but the thoughts just come right back to you.

you arrive to their home, parking in their unusually large driveway. you knock, hearing san rushing to open the door. “hey, what are you doing here?” he questions.

“i’m bored and yeosang said he told you i’d be here. did he not?” you say, voice shaking as you’re not aware of what might happen. if mingi knew you were here on your own, you would quite possibly end up single.

“yeah, come in.” he shuts the door behind you, just as confused as you are. he walks over to the kitchen, preparing cups and wine for the both of you.

“does mingi know you’re here?” he speaks with his back towards you, putting the drink in the fridge.

“no, and i don’t get why he doesn’t want me here. what’s so crazy about you guys that makes mingi so weird about me being here alone?” you begin. you want a conversation and you want san to tell what mingi won’t tell you. you feel like you’re cheating already, being here without your boyfriend.

“i don’t know. i’ve never done anything to him.” he argues. something must’ve happened on mingi’s end for them to end up so weird with each other.

“so how come you’re home alone? did no one invite you anywhere?” you question, taking a sip of the drink san had poured for you. he responds after a long pause of eye contact, watching the way your lips caress the rim of the glass.

“honestly, i didn’t wanna go anywhere. everyone else went out to wooyoung’s mom’s house and they’re spending the next 3 days there.” it’s like he has a convincing tone to his voice, not breaking eye contact as he confesses.

you want, so bad, to just let go of all sexual thoughts as they come back the second san watches your lips. you were never attracted to san, but the sexual absence that you’ve been facing has you in such a strong chokehold, you almost gasp for air in front of the man beside you.

your breath picks up its pace, trying to calm yourself before you let your intrusive thoughts win.

“y/n, are you okay?” he sets his drink down on the glass table, watching the way your thighs are clenching.

“san, if i tell you something you literally cannot tell a soul.” you set your drink down beside his, finally deciding to let some steam off.

“y-yeah. what’s going on, pretty?” he raises concern in his tone, the nickname sending shivers through your chest and down to your core. his voice is soft and deep, a sense of care and possessiveness without ever claiming you.

he knows what he’s doing.

“so mingi and i haven’t had sex in like 3 months, and when he left i guess my body went into autopilot trying to find a release when he like walked away from me. cus he looked so good in his outfit i guess the thoughts started flooding all at once. i dont know san, like why am i so-“ you ramble, san not even understanding what you’re getting at. your words leave your mouth at 100mph, trying to get to the point.

“y/n, what are you getting at?” he scoots closer to you. you feel his breathing becoming slower but deeper, his hands inching closer to your knee.

you sigh, in hopes to brush off the thoughts that are replaying in your mind— san being inside of you and filling in that void mingi had planted in your cervix. you also imagine the ways that san would wrap his rather larger veiny hands around your throat, cutting off all airways in multiple pleasuring ways. the way that he’d make you hold your orgasm makes your head spin. though you can only imagine, its almost as if he can hear your thoughts.

“has mingi actually made love to you? not just sex, actually fucked you the way you wanted.” he notices the way your mind races, picking at your cuticles in the anxious manner that san has created.

“we’ve had sex, but i guess he’s never asked me what i was into.” you mutter. san takes initiative, inching closer to your face.

“baby, how are you gonna handle two weeks with no release? you’ve gone however fucking long without the proper release, let your dear friend san show you a proper fuck, mm?” he takes your hand in his, running his free hand up your bare thigh. he notices the way your mouth lets out a gasp the closer he gets to your heat. your mind races again, finally realizing that this is why mingi never wanted you over here on your own.

“b-but—“ you try. you really don’t want this to stop, you know he’ll fuck you stupid. be honest to yourself, you wanna get fucked stupid, and who better to ask than san?

“let me make you feel good, hm? you want me to be rough with you? say the words, darling.” he inches closer, his right arm on one side of you as he leans on top of you. you stare at his lips, watching the way they drip with arousal already.

“san, use me.” fucking finally. as if you poured fuel to the fire, san immediately crashes his plump pink lips onto yours. the softness of his lips does not seem to match the roughness he implies into the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth. his tongue runs along the roof of your mouth, to your gums, and almost to your throat from how deep he’s kissing you. he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking and eliciting gasps from you, as you pull away and take his bottom lip into your lips, sucking and creating a red tint in his wake.

“fuckin’ hell. i need to taste you, pretty girl.” his lips move down to your neck, using his hands to unzip your sweater to kiss down your bare chest.

“no bra, it’s like you came over to fuck me, that right?”

yes, he’s right.

“n-no, please don’t tell mings—“ you moan as he takes your nipple into his mouth, almost sucking the entire muscle out of your chest.

“fuck! please, do something.” you moan. your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as san doesn’t stop sucking and swallowing everything you give him.

his long fingers move to take your shorts off, immediately rubbing circles on your pussy the second the fabric leaves your legs.

“oh my god, you are fucking soaked, y/n. what’s going on in your pretty head, hm? bet you think about me when you fuck mingi. right, pretty?” his fingers plunge into your hole, relentlessly fucking into your pussy. his free hand finds a home over your mouth to mask your moans and gasps while he fucks you with his hand.

your legs clench around his forearm, threatening to squirt on his couches. your stomach clenches while san moves his hand from your mouth to land a sharp slap onto your pussy. your body jolts with pleasure from the slap, san groaning from how hard you’re clenching his fingers.

“open.”

he brings his fingers up to your mouth as you suck and swallow your juices. “good girl, take it all.”

he takes his pants off, wasting no time in jerking himself and entering your sopping hole. your eyes widen at his size, intimidated that you won’t be able to take him.

“san, i don’t think—“

“you can and you will.”

he stops you, placing his right hand on your throat while the other guides his length into your hole. you throw your head back onto the arm rest, your legs threaten to shut around his waist while he already picks up the pace.

he pounds into you relentlessly, hitting your cervix and pulling the ropes of your orgasm.

“so dirty, letting me choke you out and fuck you like a whore. what would mingi say, huh? look at me when i’m talking to you, y/n.” he grips your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye when he pounds you.

“i-i don’t know! please,” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, because san’s giving you all that you’ve missed out on.

you should’ve said yes when he’d asked you out that one time.

“what are you begging for? i’m giving you everything your fuck-ass boyfriend can’t give you.” he slaps your cheek, leaving a red handprint on the right side of your face. you smile at him as he does it again.

“you’re so deep in me, sannie. it’s too much,” you begin to see stars as you yell out. all you can do is moan and cry for san to keep fucking you, even though it feels like you’re being ripped in half in the best way.

“you talk so fucking much, wonder why mingi won’t fuck you.” he lifts your legs onto his waist in a more comfortable spot, while he wraps both hands around your throat, squeezing tightly as he pounds into your pussy faster.

you whimper, san kissing your almost purple lips, using his thumb to open your mouth. he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue as you gracefully swallow him.

“keep clenching around me, there you fucking go. open your legs wider,” san is interrupted by his phone ringing. he doesn’t pull out, only reaching for it on the table by your head. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he leans back up to answer what displays as

‘Mingi’

he swipes to answer, putting the phone on speaker.

“yo,” you hear your boyfriend. you try so hard to suppress your moans, as san fucks into you faster and deeper. he places a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, even though he wants mingi to know how good he’s fucking you.

“mingi-ya. how’s ja-japan?” he mutters while you clench around his dick tighter. he moves his hand away from your mouth to pinch at your nipple.

“its good, hows everyone doing? i called y/n, but she didn’t answer.” concern and your name in the same sentence catches your attention while san looks at you in faux surprise.

“she’s good, yeosang checked up on her a few days ago, she’s just bored.”

he plunges his hips extra hard into you, staying in that one position, not moving an inch. your stomach clenches as you squirt all over san’s pelvis. he gasps, impressed by his action.

mingi is talking, but the both of you are just listening. san isn’t answering the way mingi wants him to, only reacting to what he says.

“are you good, bro? are you even listening to me?”

“uh— yeah, yeah i am.” san leans towards your face, licking the tears that fell from your doe fucked out eyes. you put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making any noise.

“alright, i’m gonna go. i’ll talk to you later, san.”

“bye mingi”

“you’re fucking dirty, such a whore.” he groans and swallows in an attempt to clear his dry throat as he tosses the phone somewhere in the room.

“i’m gonna cum, sannie. please cum in me.” you bring your hand up to the back of his head to pull him closer to you. you lick a stripe up his dimple as he smirks. you feel him swell up and twitch in your pussy, his hand coming down to rub circles on your clit. his hips stutter as he fucks you slower, emptying himself in your cervix.

“want my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy even when mingi’s around.” he pulls out of you, watching the way his cum leaks out of your hole. he uses two fingers to spread your lips, watching the way your hole clenches and how loose he’s made you.

you realize how much you were missing out on the minute san touched your thigh.

sex will never be the same again.

—————————————————————————————

i don’t even know what to say.

😁

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wolvietxt · 27 days ago

Text

𝓬harade.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : jealousy, friends to lovers, fake dating, fluff, kiss, light angst, mentions of bucky’s past (like once), possessiveness summary : you ask bucky to come with you to a charity gala, just to get tony off of your back. it’s beneficial to him too (he doesn’t have to be alone) but will the lines between fake and real blur? wc : 3.4k

bucky wasn’t sure when it started - this... thing between the two of you. he wasn’t even sure he could call it a thing, but something about you had a way of wrapping around him, unbalancing the careful walls he’d constructed to keep himself steady.

maybe it was the way you’d walked into the avengers tower three years ago, all bright smiles and teasing remarks, treating him like he was more than just a shadow from the past. or maybe it was how you never gave him space to brood for too long, always pulling him into group movie nights or challenging him to spar in the gym when you sensed he needed a distraction. whatever it was, bucky found himself gravitating toward you more than he liked to admit.

and now, sitting on one of the plush couches in the tower’s common area, staring at the team calendar where “charity gala” was written in bold, mocking letters, bucky was painfully aware of you.

“you’re glaring at that thing like it owes you money,” you teased, dropping onto the couch next to him. your knee brushed against his, and he hoped you didn’t notice the way his shoulders tensed at the contact.

he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s so stupid.”

“you say that about every event,” you replied, leaning back like you belonged there, like you belonged anywhere. “maybe this one will be fun.”

bucky gave you a look. “fancy clothes, fake smiles, and rich people talking about how generous they are? yeah… sounds like a blast.”

you giggled, and he felt the sound settle somewhere deep in his chest. “maybe you just need the right date,” you said, half-joking. “you know, someone to make it bearable.”

he snorted. “and who’s that supposed to be? steve? sam?”

“i was thinking me, actually,” you said, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

bucky’s brain short-circuited for a moment. he stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but it never came.

“hear me out,” you said, panicking a little at the blank expression on his face. leaning forward now, your expression more serious. “i’ve been trying to dodge tony’s matchmaking attempts for weeks, and you hate going to these things alone. right? we can fake it - just for the night. pretend we’re together. that way, we both get through it in one piece.”

his first instinct was to say no. it wasn’t a good idea. it wasn’t smart to pretend, to blur the lines that were already starting to feel too thin. but then he thought about the alternative: going alone, standing on the edges of conversations, enduring pitying glances. and there you were, offering him an easy out. offering to stand beside him, even if it was just pretend.

“fine,” he said finally. “but don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“oh please,” you said, grinning now. “if anything blows up, it’ll be because you can’t act to save your life.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

by the time the night of the gala rolled around, bucky was questioning every decision that had led him to this moment. he’d been uncomfortable in suits before, but this tux felt particularly suffocating. the mirror in his room didn’t help, either; no matter how many times he adjusted his tie, he still felt like a kid playing dress-up.

“hey,” your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and he turned to see you standing in the doorway.

for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. your dress was sleek and elegant, the color complementing your skin in a way that made you look effortlessly radiant. but it wasn’t just the dress - it was the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him.

“wow,” you said, stepping closer. “you clean up real nice.”

he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

you smirked. “aww, don’t get too sappy on me now, barnes.”

he huffed a laugh, but the nervous energy in his chest didn’t dissipate. he hoped you couldn’t tell, but out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw your smile falter.

when you arrived at the gala, the room was already bustling with people. chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, and the soft hum of classical music filled the air.

you slipped your arm through his, leaning in closer than necessary. “smile, bucky. we’re supposed to look like we’re having fun.”

he shot you a look but forced his lips into a semblance of his grin. “if you say so.”

you both made your way through the crowd, greeting familiar faces and dodging small talk whenever possible. bucky was doing fine - or at least pretending he was - until someone approached you.

“y/n,” the man said, his smile wide and just a little too polished. “been a while.”

bucky’s eyes narrowed as you returned the greeting, your tone polite but distant. the guy’s attention lingered on you, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made bucky’s jaw tighten.

“so, who’s your friend?” the man asked, finally acknowledging bucky.

“this is bucky,” you said, squeezing his arm slightly. “he’s my date.”

the man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“it’s recent,” you said smoothly, glancing at bucky. “but it’s going well.”

bucky didn’t miss the way the guy’s smile faltered, and for the first time that night, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer.

“yep,” he said, his tone even. “real well.”

after a few more pleasantries, the man finally walked away, leaving the two of you alone again.

“he didn’t seem happy to see me with someone,” bucky muttered.

“jealousy isn't a good look on him,” you said, but there was a hint of something in your voice - something he couldn’t quite place.

you glanced up at him, your expression softening. “thanks for stepping in back there. i know this whole thing isn’t exactly your scene.”

he shrugged, but his grip on your waist didn’t loosen. “it’s not so bad.”

as the night went on, the lines between what was real and what was pretend started to blur. the way you laughed at his dry remarks, the way your hand lingered on his arm - it all felt too natural, too easy.

and maybe that’s what scared him most of all.

bucky wasn’t sure when the room started to feel smaller, the air heavier. maybe it was the way you kept pulling him into conversations with people whose names he’d already forgotten, your laughter bright and unguarded as you charmed the crowd. or maybe it was the lingering gazes from a few too many admirers who clearly didn’t get the memo about you being taken - even if it was fake.

“you okay?” your voice broke through his thoughts, quiet and meant only for him. you’d leaned in close, your hand brushing his arm. the warmth of your touch grounded him, even as the irritation simmering beneath his skin refused to fade.

“fine,” he muttered, forcing a tight smile. “just... crowds.”

you frowned, your brow furrowing in concern. “we can leave anytime, you know. i don’t mind.”

“we’re not leaving just because i’m uncomfortable,” he replied, his tone sharper than he intended.

your eyes softened, the corner of your mouth twitching like you wanted to argue but decided against it. “okay. but let me know if you change your mind.”

he nodded, looking away before the guilt could settle too deeply. you didn’t deserve his moodiness, not when you were trying so damn hard to make this night bearable for him.

the tipping point came about an hour later.

you’d drifted away to grab drinks while bucky stayed near the edge of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he scanned the crowd. he wasn’t keeping tabs on you - at least, that’s what he told himself - but when he spotted you talking to someone near the bar, his chest tightened.

the guy was tall, with an easy smile and a smug air about him that bucky instantly disliked. he leaned a little too close to you, his hand brushing your arm as he said something that made you laugh - a laugh bucky didn’t like hearing from someone else.

bucky’s jaw clenched. he didn’t have a claim to you, not really, but the sight still ignited something possessive and raw. before he realized what he was doing, he was striding across the room.

“everything okay here?” his voice came out rougher than he intended as he positioned himself at your side, his broad frame cutting off the guy’s view of you.

your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you recovered quickly, flashing him a smile. “bucky. we were just talking about the gala.”

“right,” bucky said flatly, his gaze locked on the guy, who had the audacity to look amused.

“well,” the man said, taking a step back, “i’ll leave you two to it. nice meeting you, y/n.”

bucky didn’t relax until the guy disappeared into the crowd.

“jealous much?” you teased, though your tone was light.

“he was flirting with you,” bucky muttered, his arms crossing over his chest.

“so? it’s not like I’m actually your - ” you stopped yourself, your cheeks flushing slightly as the words hung between you.

“not my what?” he pressed, his voice quieter now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

you glanced away, fiddling with the stem of your glass. “nothing. forget it.”

but he couldn’t. the way your voice had faltered, the way your teasing confidence had momentarily slipped - it stuck with him, unsettling in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

later, the two of you found a quieter corner of the venue, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. you’d kicked off your heels, perching on the edge of a low bench with your legs tucked beneath you. bucky sat beside you, his tie loosened and his jacket draped over the back of his chair.

“sorry if i made things weird earlier,” he said after a long stretch of silence.

you glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “you didn’t.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i just... i don’t like seeing people treat you like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’re something they can just... have,” he said, his voice rough. “you deserve better than that.”

your gaze softened, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

“don’t tell anyone,” he muttered, earning a quiet laugh from you.

for a moment, the weight between you seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter. but then your laughter faded, and your smile turned wistful.

“sometimes i wonder if this is all i’m good for,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “being the girl people want to flirt with at parties. the fun one, the easygoing one. it’s like... no one really takes me seriously,” your voice getting quieter and quieter as you spoke.

bucky’s chest ached at your words, the vulnerability in your tone cutting deeper than he expected. without thinking, he reached for your hand, his calloused fingers brushing against yours.

“you’re more than that,” he said firmly. “you’re smart, and strong, and... you make people feel like they matter. you make me feel like i matter.”

your eyes met his, wide and searching, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“bucky...” you started, your voice unsteady.

“look, i know this was supposed to be fake,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i don’t think i’m pretending anymore.”

you stared at him, your expression unreadable, and for a terrifying second, he thought he’d ruined everything. but then you leaned closer, your free hand resting lightly on his cheek.

“finally,” you smiled, your voice barely above a whisper.

and then, before he could overthink it, you closed the distance, your lips brushing softly against his. it wasn’t a grand, sweeping kiss - just a gentle meeting of mouths, tentative and full of unspoken promises.

when you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“guess we’re both bad at pretending,” you said softly.

“damn right,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small, lopsided grin.

and for the first time that night, the air between you felt light again, the tension replaced by something warm and new.

the drive back to your place was quieter than usual. not tense, exactly - more like the air was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to shatter the silence. you fiddled with the strap of your clutch, glancing at bucky out of the corner of your eye. his hands were steady on the wheel, his jaw tight, but his gaze flicked toward you every few seconds like he was making sure you were still there.

you finally broke the silence. “you don’t have to walk me up, you know.”

“didn’t ask if i had to,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

you couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. even now, with your head spinning from the events of the evening, he had a way of grounding you, steady and unshakable.

when he parked outside your building, he killed the engine and rounded the car before you even had a chance to unbuckle. ever the gentleman - or at least, his gruff version of one.

the elevator ride up to your apartment was quiet, the tension from earlier creeping back in. when the doors slid open, you led the way, fumbling with your keys as you tried to ignore the warmth of his presence behind you.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked as you pushed the door open.

“yeah,” you said quickly, stepping inside. “just... long night.”

he hesitated in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space like he wasn’t quite ready to leave. you turned to face him, your lips parting to say something - what, you weren’t sure - but the words stuck in your throat.

his eyes were darker in the soft light of your apartment, the usual cool blues tinged with something deeper, something unreadable.

“you want me to go?” he asked, his voice quieter now, rougher around the edges.

you shook your head before you could stop yourself. “no. i mean... stay. if you want.”

you weren’t sure when it happened - when the air between you shifted again, from awkward and unspoken to charged with something electric. maybe it was the way he hovered near the kitchen while you made tea, his shoulders tense like he didn’t know where to put himself. or maybe it was the quiet gratitude in his voice when you handed him a cup, your fingers brushing for half a second too long.

“you don’t have to stay,” you said again, softer this time. “i know this whole thing has been... a lot.”

he snorted, taking a sip of his tea. “you think i can’t handle a few idiots and bad wine?”

“i think you can handle anything,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could overthink them.

he looked at you then, really looked at you, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“you shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he said quietly, his tone unreadable.

“why not?”

“because,” he said, setting his cup down on the counter, “i’m trying real hard not to cross a line here.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what line?”

he let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “the one where i stop pretending this is fake and start wanting things i’m not supposed to want.”

“bucky...” his name came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper.

he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the hardwood floor. “tell me to go,” he said, his voice low and rough. “because if you don’t, i’m not sure i can keep pretending.”

but you didn’t tell him to go. instead, you closed the space between you, your hand finding his like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“i don’t want to pretend either,” you admitted, your voice shaking with the weight of the words.

he stared at you for a long moment, like he was searching for something in your expression. then, without another word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

the kiss was nothing like the one at the gala - nothing tentative or unsure about it. this was heat and certainty, his lips moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. his hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. the world narrowed to just the two of you, the quiet hum of the city outside your window fading into nothingness.

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

you nodded, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “are you?”

he let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating beneath your palms. “fuck yeah.”

you giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips, softer this time, like you had all the time in the world. and for once, it felt like maybe you did.

later, you found yourselves tangled on the couch, your legs draped across his lap as his arm rested along the back of the cushions. the tea you’d made had gone cold on the coffee table, forgotten in the haze of everything that had happened.

“so,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “what happens now?”

he glanced at you, one brow quirking in that way that always made your heart do stupid little flips. “what do you mean?”

“i mean... this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “us.”

he shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “guess we figure it out.”

“that’s it? no grand plan?”

“plans don’t usually work out for me,” he said simply, his tone light but laced with something heavier.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “then we’ll take it one step at a time.”

he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “sounds good to me.”

the night stretched on, the city quieting outside as the minutes slipped by. you weren’t sure when you drifted off, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. but when you woke up to the first rays of morning light filtering through the window, he was still there, his breathing slow and steady beneath you.

for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus, @uncertified-doc

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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razrbladekiss · 4 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller — PART TWO

SUMMARY: after a chance encounter, joel miller is faced with a dilemma. will he be able to resist temptation, or will he crumble beneath your mystifying gaze?

PAIRING: dads ex-best-friend!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. soft!joel, i yearn for this amidst all of the angsty, grumpy old man joel. some dialogue that melts me. dirty talk. pervy joel. mentions of f&m masturbation. pussy eating. fingering <3 protected piv cus if you’re gonna fuck your dad’s ex best friend, then you need to at least do something sensible!! sarah calls joel while you’re…yano.

happy birthday joel <3

PART ONE

Should I really be doing this?

Joel’s inner monologue—and conscience—is about to implode, firing fragments of stupidity into each corner of his brain it seems. Because that’s the only way this could be described rationally.

He’s fucking stupid. He has to be. To come back to Point Pleasant, for one, to admit that he has a crush on his ex-best-friend’s daughter another, and then take her HOME with him.

To the house that your parents used to go to every Saturday night for parties, gatherings, meals. Joel used to host Superbowl Sundays there, too, which were arguably some of the best days had by your father and something he’ll always remember regardless of the precarious terms that he’s on with Joel.

That house would be your after-school retreat, when you and Sarah were best friends growing up. You’d spend hours there playing games, riding your bikes in the yard, telling one another your deepest darkest secrets.

You took your first sip of alcohol in that house at a party that—to this day—you and Sarah still keep secret from your parents. You had your first fight there—at the same party, actually—and the scar from the Jack Daniels bottle still sits uncomfortably above your right bicep. The scar that your dad still believes is from you cutting yourself on chicken wire, and not a result of an intoxicated kerfuffle with a college senior when you were sixteen.

You haven’t set foot in Joel’s home for years, and that’s what terrifies him.

What if this all becomes too real? What if she doesn’t want me when she remembers all the history, all the things that happened here?

His brain is working faster than what his mouth or body can even dream of keeping up with, and he hasn’t even realized that his truck is still stationary outside of the bar.

“Joel.” You say his name for the third time, and he finally manages to cut free the ties between his reluctance and desire. He smiles at you.

“Yeah?”

Eyebrows fused together, you stare back at him. Joel fiddles with the keys to his truck before he’s stuffing them into the ignition.

You choose to stay silent. He knows that you know that he’s playing dumb. How couldn’t you? You’d been having those same reticent thoughts leaving the bar, too.

It’s a tricky situation to be thrust into, but it’s not exactly your worst nightmare. Banging Joel is only something you could’ve imagined. And, truthfully, it was.

You’d spent many a night with your deft fingertips between your legs, touching yourself to the mental image of Joel’s cock splitting you open and fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. But you’d never admit that.

How could you? He’s Sarah’s dad. At one point, he was your father’s oldest friend. A man that—despite his physical allure and more than charming personality—is much, much too old for you.

You swallow your indecision, rolling down the window when you feel the air getting thick. A cool—almost orgasmic—breeze flits through the cabin and you’re suddenly comfortable again.

Too comfortable, maybe.

“When did you realize that you wanted me, Joel?” You ask. It’s a bold question. One that he mightn’t hold the answer to. But it’s worth a shot.

Joel clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead. His knuckles begin to turn white for the grip that he has on the leather-bound wheel is unyielding. Though, he doesn’t feel as tense as he appears.

“Actually, you don’t gotta answer—“

“When you left for college.” He speaks over you, feeling an inexhaustible shade of maroon bleed into his cheeks. “When your father called Sarah ‘n I over to say our ‘goodbyes’ before you went, that’s when I realized.”

Your heart starts to thump.

“I think it was the thought of not seeing ‘ya for a few months that put it into perspective for me.” Joel admits somewhat uninhibited. It was nice. “I was so proud of you, goin’ ‘n chasin’ your dreams. Always been a bright girl.”

You smile at him. He’s still focused on the road, trying not to heed too much the glare from oncoming vehicle lights as Joel’s old age has cursed him with damn astigmatism.

He squints.

“Always had more of a soft spot for you than what I should’ve.” He says. “Not in a gross old-man way. Just always saw so much of your dad in you when you were growin’ up, and it took me back to when we were kids ourselves. And then when you turned eighteen—and grew up a hell of a lot—I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Perv.” You joke and he just shoots you a pointed glare. But he knows you’re kidding.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t think that I forgot ‘bout what you said. How you’ve always wanted to fuck me.”

Eighty-five million shades of crimson flush into your face at Joel’s crude remark, but all he can do is laugh at your suddenly reddened state.

“How old were you when you had your sexual awakening?”

“Fuck off.” You chuckle and swat at his shoulder. “Eh. Dunno. I always thought you were kinda cute, but the shitty sex in college made me yearn for a good pounding from a seasoned professional.”

Joel’s jaw drops. You’re filthy. He loves it.

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking of me?” You ask completely nonchalant, mainly because you have fingered yourself to the mental image of Joel.

He huffs out a laugh—humorless—and turns to you when he hits a stop light.

Joel never thought he’d be asked a question like this, let alone have to answer it.

“Yeah.” He concedes. “I—uh—I have.”

Your pussy throbs.

“Spent a lotta time fuckin’ my fist ‘n thinkin’ of you.” He divulges and suddenly feels that familiar ache in the chasms of his tummy. His jeans start to constrict as his dick feels like it’s getting strangled by taut denim.”Those vacation pictures you posted on Facebook last summer…”

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“That little bikini.” He continues, torturing himself. “Fuck. The things that I’ve wanted to do to you—“

“Then do them.” Bold—completely brazen—you say. “Joel, I didn’t say that I wanted to fuck you just for the sake of it. I want you.”

“And I want you, too.” Joel tells you, shifting a little to look at you as he promptly realizes that his house is another ten minutes away. “But I can’t wait.”

Hastily—in a moment of complete madness, blinded by the most lecherous haze—Joel takes a sharp left turn down some slightly sketchy side-street. He yanks up the parking brake.

“What?” You blink at him, heeding the raging boner he’s flaunting. “You want to do it here?”

Joel nods. “Car sex not good enough for the princess, huh?”

He starts unzipping his pants while you, on instinct, pull off your dress.

“No.” Your head shakes. “No, absolutely not. Just didn’t think you’d want to eat me out in the passenger seat, s’all.”

“Yeah, well.” He pulls his jeans and underwear down, and his prick springs free. Its so hard it looks almost painful. “I’ve waited long enough to get you alone, ‘n I ain’t wasting no more time.”

You nod, pulling almost sheer fabric over your head. Fair enough.

Joel’s eyes all but pop out of his skull at the sight of your tits. They’re even more alluring in person, than what that goddamn Facebook picture alludes.

“God. Your father is gonna kill me.”

“What daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.” You retort with a smile. It’s almost innocent. It’s almost driving him fucking crazy.

His features harden. As Joel puts one hand to the back of your neck and the other wraps around his cock—slowly pumping his length—he kisses you. It’s teeth and tongues, and he’s moaning because the pleasure flowing straight to his tip mixed with the saccharine liquor on your tongue is almost too much.

It’s intense. It’s steamy and needy, and Joel just smells so good. He tastes pretty sweet, too.

You whine into his mouth, feeling a haze of lust devour any sense of rationality that you might’ve had before this very juncture.

“Fuck.” He rasps as he pulls away, his hand still affixed to his literal throbbing cock. “Get on your back.”

You oblige in a heartbeat, laying against lukewarm leather, skin already sticking to it as its getting damp with sweat.

“Jesus Christ.” He lets out an expletive, feeling his already solid cock harden to an almost painful degree as you begin to leak liquid sexuality at the mere thought of Joel eating you out.

Your chest heaves as Joel starts to lick at your cunt.

A searing warmth percolates through your body as his tongue works your heat, licking a chaste trail through your folds. Its demure, its soft yet lascivious, and its driving you absolutely insane, the way he’s touching you. Feeling you. Eating you.

He laps at your honeyed sweetness, hastening the pace at which he licks and sucks and jabs at your core. Your wanton—borderline licentious—whines only encourage him.

“So sweet.” He comes up for air, slipping his middle finger into your pussy while he writes his fucking name with his tongue on your clit and wrenches inside of you. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel—“

“Baby.” The man murmurs against your swollen bud, overstimulating you to a point of almost no return, and you whine. You cry and whimper for him as he laps at your weeping bloom, feeling every ounce of pleasure twist within the chasms of your abdomen.

He spreads both of your legs apart and pulls them over his shoulders—hands firmly clamping against your stomach—and goes at it, hammer and tongs. No remorse. No mercy. No goal aside from making you squirt and scream the place down.

And of course it feels wrong, to be pinned beneath the man whose first sexual escapade was most likely shared with your father mere moments later. But you don’t care.

You don’t care that half of Joel’s life was spent by the side of your parent, or that he was there the day that you learned how to ride a bike for the first time. Because it’s so different, now.

You don’t know him anymore. Joel isn’t the same. He doesn’t look the same, or act the same. He was so grumpy, so mad at the world for the longest fucking time. But now he seems to be at peace.

Here. With you.

“Bet those stupid college jocks never tried suckin’ your soul outta your cunt.” Joel mumbles against trembling thighs, kissing and biting a little trail before he’s diving straight back into your heat.

Your head shakes and you whisper a little “no.” Speaking feels impossible, now.

And while the words won’t fall from your lips, a sharp mewl—shriek, almost—falls from your lips as your warmth devours Joel’s tongue and fingers. You tighten around him, immediately feeling your release.

But he doesn’t stop. Joel stays at it. He laps up the desire that’s pouring from you, feeling his cock start to leak at the sound of you and the way that he’s forcing your body to convulse.

You writhe and moan and he wants to take pity on you, but he can’t stop. He paws at his length and jerks his hand in time with his tongue as it slips through your folds.

“Joel—“ your hand goes to his head on instinct, wreathing fingers into his hair as his hold is relentless. “Fuck me—I—“

“You what, darlin’?” He lifts his glance, watching your eyes roll back in your fucking head. “You can’t take it anymore? You want me to show you what a seasoned professional can do?”

You cringe at your words being thrown back in your face, but you nod. Because Joel’s calloused fingertips strumming away at your clit is making you fucking ascend, and you’d like to leave his truck with at least some of your dignity.

He goes back down for another taste, drinking your come as it pours out of you. He licks a final trail through your pussy and lands at your clit, sucking it before releasing with a soaking pop.

Joel pulls away and gets on his knees bwteeen your legs, admiring the mess that he’s made of you beneath him. It’s a beautiful sight. But he worries that if he basks in it for too much longer, then he’ll blow his load all over you.

Fuck. His load. Joel grunts, pulling a hand over his face.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, propping yourself up by your elbows. “Joel?—“

“Condoms.” He rasps. “You got any?”

“No.” Joel throws his head back, frustrated. “Hey. I’m sorry that I don’t carry them around with me, but I don’t usually go fuckin’ around with people that I run into in the hardware store—“

“Sorry.” He apologises, hoping that he hasn’t ruined the mood. “Think I got some in the glove box.”

“Hope they’re in date.” Joel glares at you. “What? When was the last time that you got laid, Miller?”

He rubs his lips together. He ignores your remark, instead pulling a lone rubber from the glovebox. Joel sighs, complacent.

You peer at the back of the foil. 02.04.26.

“Huh. Got your dick wet pretty recently.” You muse, slightly downcast. But if it weren’t for being at the store today, you wouldn’t be in this situation and all would be so different.

Joel feels your trepidation. But counters with “I’m pretty sure that Tommy put these in here after I went on a Tinder date in January.”

You watch as he rolls it over his prick, and raise a brow.

“You haven’t had sex since January?”

He shakes his head.

“Fuck. That’s wild. I thought you were always out bangin’ bitches.”

“No.” He chuckles, gripping firmly his cock. He lines it up with your—still completely soaked—core. “Used to be, but not anymore.”

“Aw, I feel special, now.”

Joel leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Always been special, sweetheart.”

Throbbing once more, your cunt glitters. It’s humiliating, getting so wet so fast. But Joel is fucking luxuriating in it. He loves this sight, you underneath him.

“You ready?” The search for consent—or at least approval—forces butterflies to wreak havoc inside of your stomach.

You nod at him. “More than.”

Joel’s heart pounds. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe that he’s being so fucking stupid. But, here you are. Here he is. About to have TRUCK sex with you, like you’re just some girl that he’s picked up from the bar.

IDIOT.

But he heaves all disinclination to the side, and pushes slowly his cock into the searing warmth between your legs.

He hisses out a “fuck” while you throb around him. You’re tighter than he thought, and he can’t believe it. He can’t get over the fact that he fits you almost perfectly, like his prick was just fucking made for you.

He could stay like this all day.

But he needs to get off. Quickly. Because it’s almost eleven-fifteen, and he promised Sarah that he’d call to see how her flight to Kansas was at eleven-thirty.

“Christ, Joel.” Your head hits the seat with a thump, feeling quickly the second orgasm that he’s bestowing upon you this evening. “Feels so good.”

“Can say that again.” He replies, breathless as he starts to hasten his pace. His knees dig deep into the leather-bound seat as he strives to keep his balance while rutting into you.

Your back arches as a surge of pleasure strikes your core, and Joel puts his right hand beneath the curve of your spine while the left is gripping tightly your thigh as it shakes and shivers.

“This pussy.” He groans through gritted teeth, watching his cock slide in and out of your weeping cunt. “This fuckin’ pussy is perfect.”

More of that arousal seeps onto his cock, slick and wet. A sharp squelch urges you to cringe, but the physical sensation cancels out any feelings of sheepishness.

You’re a mess. In Joel’s truck, on the front bench, you’re a fucking mess.

But it’s some of the best sex you’ve had in—well—forever, and you can’t even dream of elucidating the gory details to anyone. Because this is wrong. Completely forbidden. Yet it feels so good.

You’d die if anyone found out, but you’re hardly being private about it.

Your moans—loud and obnoxious—reverberate through the cabin and you’re pretty sure that people a mile away can hear how well Joel’s fucking into you.

“Wanna get on top.” You muster out and take him by surprise. But he’s into it, and pulls out to sit back down on his ass.

You clamber over—and feel that pooling wetness seap down the inseam of your thighs—watching him watching you.

Both legs land either side of Joel’s, and he takes it upon himself to line his cock up with your slit. You rub over the tip, slowly sliding down onto him while your eyes are locked on his.

Joel twitches and writhes underneath you. You put both hands on his chest—exposed through his green and red flannel—and slowly ride him. You’re gentle, with your movements. Unyielding, but gentle.

“Love your cock.” Through bated breaths, you say. “So, so big.”

“Love your pussy—“

He’s cut off by the almost offensive ringtone that came default with the phone that—honestly—you couldn’t put a name to even if you had a gun to your head

“Aw, fuck. What time is it?”

You shrug, rolling your hips. “Like, eleven-thirty.”

Joel grunts and groans, fishing around for his cellphone. He pulls it from between the seat and the door.

Sarah.

“Darlin’—it’s Sarah you’re gonna have to—fuck—gonna have to stop.”

You shake your head no. “I’ll just be quiet. And I’ll go slow.”

“Fine.” He says, though knows that you “going slow” will destroy him.

Joel clears his throat, feeling quickly his release looming.

“Hey, baby girl.” He greets her, and you hear her mutter something back. Something about him needing to stop saying that, and asking him to refer to her as something normal.

She hasn’t changed. You smile. It’s cute. You just want to kiss him.

But you want to torture him even fucking more.

Both hands take purchase against his shoulders, and you rock at a pace that you know is killing him.

He grinds his lips together, humming in response to something that she’s saying.

“That’s great, Sar’.” Joel shoots you daggers as your tits press against his chest. You moan quietly, writhing on top of his prick.

You’re not going to quit, and he knows that. So as she’s describing—in depth—the ordeal that she had at the airport, he takes it as his cue to lift his hips and pound into you. All the while striving not to make a noise.

“Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum—“ You whisper, hating how quickly you’re unraveling atop him. He jolts his hips upwards—fast and lazy—as you’re orgasming in front of him. Again.

And it’s only a matter of time before he starts his unyielding release, and so you ride him until you’re seeing stars. You’re so sensitive and overstimulated, and feel as though your cunt is going to drop off.

But it’s worth it. To see Joel’s face contort, and his breathing grow sporadic, is so worth it.

“What—uh—what day will you be home?” He asks her, throat hitching.

“Saturday.”

He groans, watching you throw your head back.

“Dad? You alright?”

“Yes.” He says, short. “Sorry, that was blunt. I’m alright. Kinda caught up in an emergency, hon. Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked. Can I call you back in the morning?”

She mumbles something about him being too nice and how he can never say “no” to anybody, and agrees to speak in the morning. Joel switches off his phone and throws it behind him, quickly fastening his palms to your thighs.

“”Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked?” Joel, you are such a shitty liar.”

“I know.” He says, letting his cock hit the spongiest part of your cunt as he slams into you—hilt deep—and mumbles a slew of curses entwined with your name. “I never lie. That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

You laugh for a millisecond, before pleasure is surging over you and your sweat-slick torsos are fused together. A gorge of complete and utter rapture almost drowns the two of you, and before you know it Joel’s cock is twitching—pulsating—inside of you as he hits his release and cum is spitting from the tip of his prick.

You’re grateful for the condom—as getting pregnant by your dad’s ex-best-friend is literally a death sentence—but desire the feeling of Joel’s hot cum painting threads of white against the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wriggling as he’s still deep within you. “Joel, that was—“

“Fucking amazing.” He finishes, panting. Sweat beads against his forehead, chest and neck.

Joel—hesitantly—pulls out, and his head hits the rest behind it. You peel yourself away and reach for your dress, quickly shimmying back into it before you’re curling up next to him. Joel puts his arm around you.

“Kinda glad that I went lookin’ for a gate lock, now.”

“Mhm. Me too, sweetheart.” He replies, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“I’ve gotta go and get caulk tomorrow. You gonna be there?”

Joel chuckles. “Depends. You gonna come home with me again?”

“We haven’t even made it back to your place once.”

“This is true.” He says.

Joel reaches for his pants and jeans.

He leans into you, nipping your ear. “But I ain’t done with you yet.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x afab reader #tlou x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut

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