viareblogsstuff

[viareblogsstuff]

DON'T BE SHY, carmen berzatto

TAGS & WARNINGS → first time, first orgasm, spitting, hand job, p in v, needy soft dom carmy, praise kink :))

A/N → two carmy fics in two days? i don't know what's gotten into me honestly. i'm enjoying my little break from the mkverse, hope y'all are too!

WC → 1.3k

The first thing you notice is that he’s thick. you’re not sure he’ll fit, mind dizzied with the thought of him inside you. “Can i… can i touch?” you ask quietly, cheeks flooding with heat. “Wanna touch, please?” it comes out a breathless whisper, one that does things to Carmen.

“Fuck, yeah. yeah, baby, go ahead.” He settles his body against the headboard, one arm hooking around your waist to settle you closer. You kneel beside him and reach out a tentative hand. One finger traces up the underside of his cock and you notice how warm he is, velvet skin soft under your touch. You hear carmen suck in a gasp through his teeth and quickly pull your hand back, worried you’ve done something wrong. You tilt your head, observing the way his eyes go wide at the loss of contact. “N-no, baby, tha’s good,” he stammers, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek.

You find your lips pulling into a shy smile while your chest swells with pride at his words. “Really?” you ask, and giggle when another callused palm lands on your face, holding you between his hands and bringing you in for a kiss.

“Go on, baby. Y’don’t gotta be shy, m’kay?”

With his words of encouragement you lean back on your heels, reaching down to take his length in your hand once more. Your fingers barely wrap around all the way, you swallow thickly at the thought. You let your thumb trace over the sensitive head, collecting the arousal that pools there and relishing in the groan that tumbles from his lips.

“F-fuuuck, jus’ like that,” Carmen praises, voice rough and eyes watching you with a dark gaze. He ducks his head to muffle a moan while you build up a rhythm, mouthing at your neck. The pain of his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin is a welcome one, his tongue soothing the sting moments later. You shudder at the thought of the mark that will soon be blossoming in his wake. Proof of his devotion, claiming you as his. You squeeze him slightly, twisting your wrist in smooth strokes and his cock throbs in your hand. 

The feeling has a whine spilling from deep in your throat. The rush is dizzying, eyes focused on the way he throws his head back, tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck,” you whisper, getting lost in it—the rhythm, the heat, the feeling—as one hand tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

“You gettin’ off on this?” he asks, and your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the fact he noticed. Noticed how your thighs squeezed together with every slow pull at him, noticed how you squirmed until one heel rested right against the soft cotton of your shorts. You shouldn’t feel so bashful with him, you know you shouldn’t, but everything is so new, you can’t help it. You nod, trying to duck your head to no avail as his grip on your jaw tightens. “Good. Good girl, gotta make sure you're nice an’ ready f’me.”

Carmen lands a peck on your lips, his hand leaving your face in favor of covering your own, leading you on in easy strokes. He guides you into a more steady rhythm, quick strokes that have him smirking, kissing at your cheek and murmuring, “atta girl. S’good, fuck, doin’ so good f’me.”

You whimper, babbling as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Carmy Carmy Carmy, need you, please,” you beg.

And how could carmen ever say no?

A kiss to your forehead has his golden saint anthony chain bumping against your chin, the metal cool to your heated skin. He’s flushed a deep red color, saccharine groans pooling from his parted lips while you stroke his cock in tandem. You steal one more kiss, then another, then two large hands frame your hips.

Carmen smiles at you, “want these off?”

“Please,” you breathe out, barely a whisper as you nod. You lift your hips to aid him before his strong arms cradle your body, laying you down beneath him. Carmen’s weight presses into you and you sigh happily, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Tongues tangle with desire, you feel his leaking tip prod at your entrance as he cages your body underneath him.

“Gonna go slow, okay baby? An’ it might hurt a li’l, but just squeeze my arm.” Carmen is smiling softly at you, handling you like you’re precious as he kisses your palm, then guides your hand to his bicep.

There’s one kiss, then two on your lips before he’s pressing the throbbing head inside you. “Oh—oh fuck, shiiiit—Carmy!” You tense up a bit, squeezing his arm and tossing your head back against the pillows.

“Shh, shh babygirl, I gotcha,” he hushes against your skin. The rough pad of his thumb slips down towards your clit as he spits, circling the sensitive nub to placate you. Your thighs are trembling already, but he needs to draw this out. One hand hooks under your thigh to bring it up over his shoulder. Needy lips hush your whines, whispering against you, “doin’ so good for me. Tight fuckin’ pussy, squeezin’ me s-so good.”

And he’s only halfway inside, your nails digging crescents into his skin as his girth just about splits you open. “Carmy! Carmy—please—oh fuck!” you sob out when he fills you to the hilt. Instead of his fingers it’s now the wiry hair at the base of his cock that’s rubbing deliciously against your clit.

One hand cups your cheek as Carmen kisses you soundly, “hey, ‘s okay baby. Shh, y’re doin’ so good.”

You preen under his praise, whining and hooking the leg that isn’t over his shoulder around his waist. You draw him in closer, filling you in a way that has whimpers spilling from your lips. Finally, he begins to move. Something begins to crest within you, and you find yourself barrelling towards a form of ecstasy you’ve never felt. “Carmy I’m—oh fuck—I can’t, I-I’ve… Carmy I’ve never…”

You can’t even think straight, not with his cock drilling into you at such a sweet but deep pace, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Surely your legs will wobble in the morning, you’ll look like a baby deer as you stumble towards the bathroom with a happy ache in your cunt. Nothing has ever felt this good, no sweet dream or late night caress of your own fingers, the truth is you’ve never had an orgasm. And Carmen is about to bring you there.

“You never cum b’fore, baby?” he asks, voice strained. He’s close too, your cunt squeezing him so fucking tight, like a vice. He’s been spacing out, keeping watch on your sweet face so he doesn’t bust right then and there.

A series of whines and little “ah, ah, ah,” noises tumble from your lips, his thumb reaching up to trace your lips. You taste your own arousal on him, it’s excruciatingly hot, knowing what he was just doing to you. You suck the digit into your mouth, tongue circling it sweetly before releasing with a pop. You shake your head shyly, as his lips come down to your chest. His tongue flicks over your nipple, sucking on your supple flesh just enough for a light bruise. 

“Come on honey,” Carmen murmurs against your chest, both arms wrapping you up in a bear hug as his drills into you. “Wanna feel’ya, please baby girl, cum f’me?”

You warble out a cry as he picks up his pace, face buried in your chest. “Carmy, yes! Right there baby, right—oh!” You startle as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing slow and gentle circles in stark contrast to the quick, mind numbing snaps of his hips.

He’s pleading against your skin now, “c’mon baby, need t’feel– need to feel y’u cum on my dick, baby please.”

That’s the push you need. Well, that and Carmen rising from his sopt buried in your tits to spit on your pussy, speeding up his thumb until you’re thrashing with pleasure. You cry, years streaming down your cheeks and a smile on your pretty lips as you come undone, pulsing around him. 

Carmen brings his hands to your hips, nuzzling at your sternum as he whimpers, “gonna cum baby, can’t—o-oh fuck—can’t fucking h-hold it.” You cradle his head, fingers tangling in his soft curls as a wrecked whine falls from you. Carmen lays a kiss over your heart, his dick twitching as his hips still, his load shooting deep within you.

Carmen lifts his head to look at you, one hand cupping your cheek befre whispering, “look so fuckin’ pretty, all wrecked f’me.” Your cbeeks flood with heat as he kisses you soundly, tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like arousal and something sweeter, and you whine as his tip grinds deeper inside you. Carmen’s thighs shake, but he refuses to pull out. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs, cradling you in his arms.

You find yourself situated in his lap, softening cock still snug inside you. “But ‘m all sticky,” you say with a petulant huff. Then, “Carmy, come on! I was serious,” when he chuckles at you.

“Just a few more minutes then we’ll shower, m’kay?” he asks quietly, kissing your cheeks. You nod in agreeance, snuggling your face into his shoulder. He tired you out, that was for certain. Your thighs ached, core tight and lungs heaving. Feeling content and sated, you collapse onto Carmen with a soft sigh.

© gallaghersgal, 2024. div. © cafekitsune, saradika

THX 4 READING → once again dedicated to @carmenberzattosgf cause she's been waiting for this one!

[viareblogsstuff]

oh my GODDDDDDDDDD

you’re writing for carmy now omg i’m frothing at the mouth 😭 i love the trope where reader is quiet in bed and needs to be coaxed a bit but… i feel like it would be kind of hot if reader was the one coaxing carmy? 👀 no worries if you’re not feeling this one!

ty for requesting! — you teach the bear how to use his voice in the bedroom (new relationship, inexperienced!carmy, experienced!reader-ish, smut 18+)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Carmy never notices when he’s quiet. His head is always so loud in comparison — it’s easy to forget he isn’t saying anything out loud when his mind’s constantly racing. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. He’s just chronically observant. And painfully silent with it.

He lays on his back, pressed between unmade sheets and your warm body. The covers bunch at your bare hips as you roll in languid thrusts over his lap. A satiny summer breeze smooths over your burning skin from a cracked-open window. Every time the curtains billow, more of the moonlight peeks in. It drips in silver shades over your naked skin and your pretty face, now twisted in a look of undeniable pleasure — brows scrunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open.

Carmy’s tattooed hands rest impatiently on your hips. His fingers dig into the plush of them as he rocks you back and forth over his cock. You make pretty noises for him every time your clit brushes his coarse thatch of pubic hair, so he angles his hips just right to make sure you keep hitting that spot. 

“Carmy,” you moan in a whimsical sigh that makes his chest swell. “Just like that. ’S so good like that. Please don’t stop—”

His face, made of dark shadows and sharpened edges, is pinched in a look of acute concentration. A distant feeling of deja veux swims in his stomach. It makes him wonder if he’s seen this in a painting before. One of those Renaissance types. The kinds that are harrowingly realistic and always heart-wrenchingly beautiful in a way. 

It makes him want to draw you. Just as you are now. Head tossed back, mouth gently agape, lashes fluttering over glowing cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to do any of it justice, but he tries to memorize the soft lines of your face, anyway. 

Your hips slow to a stop. Reality hits him hard.

“Woah, woah— Hey,” Carmy mumbles in protest, brows pinched in confusion when he comes down from the clouds. Through labored breaths that make his sweaty chest rise and fall, he wonders, “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

His icy blue eyes dart over your face, searching for any sign of harm. In true Carmen Berzatto fashion, he immediately thinks he’s done something wrong — that he got too far in his own head and hurt you in some way without realizing. The anxiety is fleeting, but he feels the pinch of it anyway — right where your palm rests flat on his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, similarly panicked. Your bare chest sparkles with a thin layer of sweat and catches the moonlight with every uneven inhale.

Carmy nods rapidly, chestnut curls brushing the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m great. Why?”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, growing sheepish under his unwavering gaze. You feel a bit silly for stopping now. “You just aren’t… You aren’t really, you know… saying anything,” you answer shyly.

“Am I supposed to be saying something?”

You giggle quietly to yourself until you realize he’s being genuine. Your smile ebbs as you stammer, “Well, no, it’s just— Some people usually moan, I guess— When they feel good.”

Carmy nods firmly in reassurance. “I feel good.”

“Okay…” you nod back, slower and more unsure. 

“I promise,” he tells you, tattooed hands squeezing your sides. He shifts nervously on the mattress, similarly victimized by your adoring stare. “I just… I just like watchin’ you, I guess…”

A shy smile quirks the edges of your mouth as you peer down at the boy beneath you. “You’re sweet, bear,” you coo in a honeyed murmur.

“You’re sweeter,” Carmy insists. You think you see the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. “Wanna taste?” he teases a second later.

Wordlessly, you bend down for another kiss, far too chaste for his liking. He almost says something about it until you roll your hips again. The words of protest disappear when he inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask him.

He nods silently, squeezing your sides in a feeble attempt to move you faster on top of him.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” Carmy obeys through gritted teeth.

The subtle assurance makes you moan — a pretty, breathy thing that spills accidentally from your opened mouth. All he can think about is getting you to make that sound again. 

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” he wonders aloud, very innocuously curious.

You nod, brows furrowed as you grind over his lap. The bed frame squeaks quietly when you roll your hips forward. When you roll them back again, he can hear the faint sounds of your wet pussy — the quiet schlick-ing of his cock fucking into you. The two noises play one after the other in rhythmic tandem. The sinful sounds of sex.

Carmy racks his head for something to say in the not-so-silent meanwhile. You watch him get lost in his mind and cup his cheeks between gentle palms. “Don’t think so hard about it, bear,” you say with a wavering smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

You duck down to kiss him again. The angle shifts. Carmy bends his knees and fucks up into you, mercilessly and without warning. Your mouth hangs open in another weak moan that fans across his chin. 

“That good?” he pants.

“Yes,” you whine. “Carmy— fuck— You’re so deep…”

Babbles spill from your mouth in thinkless slurs. They tumble from your swollen lips with an admirable effortlessness, which Carmy has never thought himself to possess. He tries, anyway, to talk to you with such sinful ease. 

“You’re huggin’ me so tight,” he mutters through a clenched jaw. The very first thought to come to mind as the velvet confines of your cunt pulsate around him, squelching quietly in time with his thrusts. “Can feel you throbbin’ around me, babe— Shit— It’s like a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Your whine fills the quiet bedroom, adding to the symphony of bed squeaking and skin slapping. 

Carmy shifts his hips upward. The new angle allows his cock to reach a spongy depth inside you and pins your swollen clit against his happy trail, which now glimmers with a layer of your honey.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod wordlessly until the words catch up to you. The tip of your nose brushes the bridge of his. “Yes,” you whimper. 

His brutal thrusts pick up pace a second later, never wavering in their wicked pursuit. “Let me hit that spot,” Carmy mumbles to himself like a man crazed. “Let me hit that spot, let me hit that spot.”

Pleasure swells within you, overwhelmingly so. It’s a warm and sparkling feeling in the pit of your stomach — a tightening coil, a fraying rope, a dam about to burst. The intensity of your inevitable orgasm frightens you.

“Carmy…” you whimper.

“I know,” he nods sympathetically, right before he plants his feet on the mattress. He strengthens his thrusts, which have slowly started to lose their rhythm. “It’s okay. C’mon. Cum for me— I can feel you fuckin’ drippin’ on me, baby— C’mon.”

Your jaw clenches to fight back the scream clawing at your throat. It comes out in a pitiful whimper instead when you tense over his lap. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

Carmy goes accidentally silent once more as he watches you, swelling with pride as you reach the height of your pleasure. His light eyes flit over your features in a feeble attempt to memorize them — the furrow between your brows, the wrinkles beside your shut eyes, the spit-slicked sheen to your kissed lips.

You’re painting brought to life. A heavenly thing he can’t believe he gets to touch with unworthy hands.

“That’s it…” Carmy murmurs lowly. The words bubble in his throat and fall from his mouth mindlessly. He doesn’t even have to think about them now. It just feels right to praise you like this. “That’s it. There you go. So pretty… Always so pretty for me.”

As your body racks with aftershocks, you seek refuge in his arms. Your weight rests entirely upon him as your tense limbs slowly relax, but Carmy doesn’t mind. He just wraps his tattooed arms around you and holds your trembling body closer.

“I got you,” he promises through labored breaths, chapped lips brushing your temple with every word. “I got you. ’S okay. You did so good for me, baby. Thank you.”

You don’t have the words to tell him that you should be the one thanking him.

[viareblogsstuff]

Carmy eats it with the panties on because he’s too eager to wait for them off. After he’s got enough to think he’ll take them off and properly get started 😭

oh, you get me.

he’s appreciative of your collection. that expensive fabric costs money, and he admires it in a poetic kind of way, sees the likeness of himself there since the lace or silk or plain cotton gets to hug your hips, gets to cup your ass, gets to drape over his favorite button.

like… same, he thinks.

when’s got the privilege of shoving his head and broad shoulders between your legs, he presses kisses over it, revels in the warm texture against his lips. it’s an experiment for him. how much more warm and sticky can you get with the touch of his mouth alone? how many lingering pecks is he allowed to deposit before you’re whining for him to move on? it’s not a lot. dampness greets him eagerly, invites him with a heady scent, and his tongue sparks with envy, blisters with an itch like when he craves a cigarette.

he indulges in the addiction by first weaning himself. licking at your panties, adding to the moisture dilemma you face as you uncomfortably shift towards him. he sucks at your clit through the material, undulates his tongue into the fabric hiding your skin, and he won’t dare move them until they’re drenched with spit and your cream.

and he has the audacity to tell you it doesn’t count. so, you have to let him do it without them in the way now. it’s only logical.

[viareblogsstuff]

read while high😝😝😝 soo good

somethin' smoking weed does not replace

summary: Carmy gets high off your cart for the first time

title from: "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan

word count: 0.6k

content warnings: recreational smoking, dry humping, nothing crazy def a fade to black moment

side note: today's blurb is dedicated to my beloved Maggie!! happy holidays my love, I'm so glad I get to call you my friend <3

Carmen is not new to smoking. He smokes cigarettes enough through the day that his lungs are accustomed to it. They expect it.

However, he's not as familiar with weed as he'd like to pretend to be. Mikey brought it around once or twice, but Carmy was always too worried about the long-lasting effects to indulge. Sugar always scrunched her nose at the mention of it, less in favor of recreational smoking.

So it's safe to say he's got limited experience with weed and getting high.

You, on the other hand, have a decent amount of experience. Using carts and edibles and the occasional joint to get your high. Most of the time, you smoked before Carmy came over or he watched you smoke periodically throughout the night before bed.

When he asks you what it's like, you can't help but smile at him, offering him the cart in your hands. Carmy's hesitant, looking at the object with a frown and furrowed brow.

"It's like," you hum softly. "Like you're unburdened. Floating. No anxieties. Real quiet.."

Your words are loose, trying to find some metaphor for how you feel right now.

"It's like I'm only worried about what I'm feeling in the moment, and that's it." You tell him, leaning your face against the cushion beside you.

Your words must inspire something because he's grabbing your still extended cart and bringing it to his mouth to take a long inhale. His confidence makes you whistle lowly, watching as he pulls a face before exhaling the smoke. His coughing fit afterward surprises himself and makes you chuckle.

"Careful, bub," you tell him, offering him your glass of water off the coffee table. Carmy takes it graciously, taking a quick sip and following it with another.

You let him take a few more before he passes it back to you, leaning back against the arm rest. You can see when it starts working through his system, Carmy burying his face against his arm along the back of the couch. You watch him silently as you take another hit, blowing the smoke away from his face.

You learn quickly how touchy Carmy is while high.

It starts off small, his hand sliding up your calf and kneading the flesh softly. Soon, he's got both hands massaging at your legs, tapping an inconsistent rhythm into your skin. His face flushes when you groan at his actions, leaning back into the couch cushions. Carmy doesn't crawl up your body until you open your arms to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your chest.

The feeling of his half hard erection against your leg surprises you. Not entirely, given how easy he is to get riled up, but you didn't expect him to be so affected while high.

Carmy sighs as he buries his nose in your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you to keep your bodies flush. His thighs bracket your leg, letting him straddle your thigh and push his up against your core.

He's a little embarrassed at how hard he is already. Just looking at you was enough to cause a stirring in his jeans that had him flustered against your skin. His kisses are featherlight as he trails them along your neck and jaw, nipping softly at the juncture under your ear.

"Let me make y'feel good.... Please, baby..." Carmy pleads. The pressure of his thigh is enough to be teasing as he grinds against your hips. His lips are needy as he places messy kisses along your neck in hopes of enticing you.

Carmy is responsive to your own moans, whining into your skin as he slips his fingers past your waistband.

"Please, please, baby..." Carmy whines, tracing your hips lightly. You hum softly, winding your fingers through his curls and giving a soft tug.

"Okay, Carmy... Make me feel good.." You tell him.

And that's all the prompting Carmy needs before he's dipping his fingers into your underwear, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut.

Even high, Carmy is an expert with his hands.

[viareblogsstuff]

luvvvvvvv him

11 J and Carmy because I love the fluffy stuff.

I've written something rather romantic for you, the title can't be anything else than:

December 1st (Prompts from my seasonal prompt list: "Thank you for spending time with me today" & "First kiss") Carmen x gn!Reader 2000 words

“Good morning,” Carmen Berzatto greets you with a tentative smile, his breath clouding in the frosty morning air.

Your heart jumps, like every time Carmen comes, instead of Tina, to pick up the fresh dairy products.

“Hello,” you wave from the open door, the sun shining into your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. “Come on in,” you beckon him as you see his red nose and cheeks, holding the heavy metal door open to let him inside the storage room.

Carmen steps inside, shoulders tense against the chill. He rubs his hands together briskly, the friction sending little clouds of warmth into the air. “Colder than I thought it’d be,” he mutters, glancing around at the neatly stacked crates of milk and cream, along with various types of cheese.

You grab a clipboard from the hook near the door and pretend to study the inventory, but you’re acutely aware of every move he makes—the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the subtle dip of his head as he surveys the shelves.

“You get used to it,” you reply, even though the truth is, you’ve never really adjusted to the cold. It’s just something you tolerate.

“Do you wanna take something extra?” you ask, and as you look up, you find Carmen already watching you. His eyes quickly dart away. He looks skinnier than the last time you saw him, his cheekbones protruding.

Carmen does want to take something extra, and he asks you a surprisingly huge amount of questions regarding butter and mature cheddar and Swiss cheese from Stockton. Usually, Carmy barely speaks — he quickly loads the crates and is off. Not today.

“Swiss, huh?” you prompt, watching him as he shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “You planning a fondue night, Chef?”

Carmy huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head. “No, just… experimenting. Trying to see what works with, uh, some new ideas.” His explanation comes out fast, like he’s rehearsed it, but the way he avoids your gaze makes you think there’s more to it than that.

You glance over at the neatly wrapped blocks of Swiss cheese, then back at him. “Alright. But you usually know exactly what you want. Today’s… different.”

That gets his attention. His eyes snap back to yours, wide for a moment before narrowing like he’s trying to read what you mean. “Different how?”

“Dunno,” you shrug, though you absolutely do. “Just… you’re asking a lot of questions. Usually, it’s just a quick ‘hey’ and ‘thanks.’” You keep your tone light, playful, but there’s a part of you that wants to ask why he looks so worn down, why his usual confidence feels frayed at the edges.

Carmen glances at the crates and lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m—uh—“ He pauses, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s ... the first of December.”

“It’s the first of December,” you repeat slowly after him. Surely, there must be more to it than just the beginning of a new month.

Carmy looks immediately regretful, his boots shuffling on the concrete floor. “Family trauma,” he explains plainly. “Christmas. It always seems like once it’s December, I can’t avoid it any longer.”

“Oh.” For a moment, you don’t know what to say. Carmen doesn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the floor like he’s bracing himself for judgment—or maybe just for silence.

He huffs a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to dump that on you.” He shifts his weight, his hands digging deeper into his coat pockets. “It’s not your problem.”

“Maybe not,” you say quietly, watching the way his shoulders curl inward, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

You lean back against the shelf, crossing your arms to ward off the cold. “So… Swiss cheese, huh?” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

Carmen blinks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to decide whether to let you change the subject. Finally, he gives a small nod. “Yeah. Swiss cheese.”

You add the extra products to another crate, noting them on your list. Carmy pays, and you put the money into the cash box, then help him with the lighter crates into his car. Well, it’s Richie’s car; you already know that. Tina uses it too. Carmen shyly asks you to come along, explaining that they want to give you Bear Christmas Cookies, just as they do for all their suppliers. He shivers when saying “Christmas,” but you agree, quite happily, and get in the passenger seat. The car is cold too; the heating clearly doesn’t work. You intentionally don’t look around too much, just in case you spot something exceptionally gross in the clutter.

“I’m sorry for the state of the car. It’s Richie’s,” he adds quickly. “The only available car at the moment,” he winces.

“It’s fine,” you smile at him.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment, the hum of the car’s engine filling the space between you. The city streets blur past outside, with festive lights strung across lampposts and storefronts, their warm glow a sharp contrast to the December chill.

At the restaurant, you help Carmen get the products to the walk-in fridge. The kitchen is empty, being Monday morning, and gives off a completely different vibe—a bit sad, maybe. It makes you wonder if that’s one of the reasons Carmy’s been stalling so much today.

When you bring in the last crate, setting it on the metallic counter with a clang, Carmen’s there with a round, dark blue tin. As he hands it to you, your fingertips touch, fueling your well-nourished crush, and you can’t help but want more of him.

“Thank you,” you say, studying the Bear logo on the lid. “I’ll make sure to share it with the rest of the team,” you tell him. “Even though I don’t want to.”

That makes Carmen bark out a laugh, one that sounds genuine for once.

As there’s nothing else to do, the moment starts to stretch awkwardly.

“You know, maybe it’s not my place to say this—” you start bravely, “but I think a cup of coffee or tea would cheer you up.”

Carmen’s brows lift slightly, his lips parting like he’s about to respond, but he hesitates, caught off guard. “Yeah?” He looks down at the tin still in your hands, then back up at you.

You shift your weight, feeling the sudden urge to backpedal, but you’ve come this far. “Yeah,” you say, steadier now. “I mean, it’s cold as hell, it’s Monday, and you look like you could use… I don’t know. A minute to just breathe.”

Carmen huffs a small laugh, though it’s quieter this time. “Is it that obvious?”

You tilt your head, giving him a playful look. “Let’s just say you’re not exactly radiating holiday cheer.”

Carmen snorts and then says, decidedly, “Okay.”

It’s not a surprise to find out that the chef doesn’t know any nearby places that specialize in beverages, so you lead the way to the first decent-looking coffee house one street over. You order an almond milk latte, while he has chamomile tea, and then pays for both of you without hesitation.

The two of you lapse into a hesitant talk at a corner table with two armchairs, the hum of conversation and the clinking of cups filling the space around you. Outside, the festive lights strung across the street sway gently in the breeze, their glow reflecting on the window.

As much as your heart is ready to give out, with your fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic mug, a careful conversation develops. You talk about your job at the Home Produce shop, sharing gossip about all the other restaurants and chefs that buy from you.

When Carmen does speak, you can’t help but sneak glances at his tattooed hands, the ones you can’t get out of your head. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure Carmen catches you on one or two occasions but doesn’t say anything.

The conversation moves on to other topics, like favorite dishes, shared horror stories about difficult customers, and even the occasional joke. You’re pleased to see Carmy relaxing, taking off his quilted coat. Meanwhile, you’re wearing only your thick woolen jumper and a long red scarf, the coffee adding a very pleasant warmth to the mix.

Things take a turn when Carmen starts sharing half-explained stories about his family and the Seven Fishes tradition: festive cooking, car crashes, divorces, moving to New York—all without mentioning Christmas once.

You listen carefully, letting Carmy know you’re there, willing to help him carry a bit of the burden.

“Everything was always… too much,” he says, his gaze fixed on his tea, now lukewarm. “Loud. Messy. No one ever sat still long enough to actually… enjoy it, you know?”

You nod, watching him carefully, letting the words settle in the air. “And New York?” you prompt gently, sensing that he needs a nudge.

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I thought it would be different. It wasn’t. Just… louder. More people, more pressure. The only time I really liked Christmas was when I was on shift. Cooking. It was the only time I could control anything.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the way he talks about control like it’s both a lifeline and a curse.

“You’re good at it, though,” you say softly. “The cooking, I mean.”

Carmen fidgets with his sleeve, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table, and you realize he’s looking at you—not quite directly, but close enough that your pulse quickens.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he says suddenly, like the thought just slipped out.

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh. Well, uh—thank you.” Your nervous laugh fills the space as you grip your mug a little tighter.

You feel like you’re dancing around each other a little, trying to figure out where you stand or if there’s any affection coming from the other person. It’s exhilarating and a bit terrifying at the same time. You really want Carmen to like you, and you have nothing else to offer but honesty and openness.

It’s almost 1 p.m. when you get up, your stomach rumbling, murmuring something about having to get back to work. Carmen offers to drive you back, which you accept gladly. As soon as you both get into the car, you can’t help but shiver from the cold outside—and inside, as well.

“Oh, here you go,” Carmen shrugs off his warm jacket and drapes it over your arms before he starts the engine. The gesture takes you by surprise, and you blush furiously into your sweater’s neck.

When he parks and shuts off the engine, the sudden quiet feels almost intimate. He turns to you, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. “Thanks for spending time with me today,” he says, his voice sincere. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” you cut in, a little sharper than you mean to, but his self-deprecation stirs something protective in you. “But I wanted to. Because it’s you.”

The words hang there, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. His eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s caught off guard, maybe even a little unsure what to do with the kindness.

“I’m not great at this,” he finally says, his voice low, like it’s a confession. “Talking about… stuff.”

“Clearly,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood, though your smile is gentle. “But you don’t have to talk, you know. Not if you don’t want to.”

He exhales slowly, his breath curling in the frosty air like smoke. You’re unsure if he’s about to speak, but then he does something else entirely. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, plain and sweet. Instantly, it ignites a fire inside of you, the flames making your cheeks burn despite the cold.

For a moment, the world narrows to just that touch—fleeting, but enough to send your heart racing. When he pulls back, Carmen looks almost as surprised as you feel, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide like he’s already second-guessing himself.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “I—I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice steady even though your pulse is anything but. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes dart to yours, searching, as if he’s trying to figure out if you mean it.

“I… I’ve been wanting to do that,” he admits, his voice rough and hesitant, like the words are being pulled out of him against his better judgment.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too wide. “Me too,” you confess.

[viareblogsstuff]

DELECTABLE

My brain is rotting with the concept of Carmy sending you a video of him jerking off ( @wtfsteveharrington is to blame for this)

Currently, Carmen is in New York for a chefs conference. He can’t get you off his mind, and he’s missing your warm body in bed next to him. It doesn’t help that he just woke up at 2am with a massive hard-on.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles to himself, reaching for the switch to the lamp on the bedside table. He grabs his phone next. With shaky hands, he opens the camera app on his phone, switching to video mode. He clicks the start button.

Carmy’s lower half is still underneath the blanket as the video begins. He’s breathing heavy as he trails his right hand from the top of his sternum to the waist band of his underwear. He kicks the blankets off, exposing the growing bulge in his briefs.

Carmy’s not going to let himself get camera shy now, so he acts like he’s talking to you. “W-woke up like this—“ he breaths. His keeps his movements slow, letting his palm drift down to his covered dick. He applies gentle pressure, which makes his hips twitch.

“I wish you could have come here with me. Know you’d take care of this.” He grips himself harder, forcing a choked groan to leave his lips. Carmy can’t keep this up; he needs to get a hand on his throbbing cock. His thumb hooks into the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down. The camera angle shakes while he shoves them down his hips.

When the video steadies and focuses, it’s on his exposed cock. Carmy breaths deeply as his cock twitches, precum oozing from his tip. “Shit—I’m already leaking. See what you do to me, sweetheart? Just thinking about you gets me hard like a fucking teenager.”

Carmy’s hand disappears from the frame for a moment, but it’s obvious from the sound of spitting what he’s doing. Once his hand enters the frame again, now covered in saliva, he wastes no time and grabs his cock.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t need the extra lubrication with how much he’s dripping, but Carmy wants to replicate the feeling of your soaked cunt as best as he can with his hand. “W-wish I was with you. Know you’d be so fucking wet and warm around me.”

Carmy starts with a slow and calculated pace. His palm grips his dick as tight as possible without it being unpleasurable. On each up stroke, he applies additional pressure to make the pre drip down the head of his cock.

He’s making the most erotic sounds, a mix a raspy groans and needy whines. His abs flex while he pants, desperate for air. “Shit—baby. Miss you, pretty girl.” He fists his cock quicker, now, barely able to keep his hips on the bed. Carmy gives in and lets his hips work in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna fuck you so good when I get back—just-just like this—shit. You won’t be able to walk straight—“

It’s borderline hedonistic, the way his hips roll into his hand. Carmy’s completely unabashed. “S’good f’me. Feels s’good,” he mumbles like you’re actually there with him and not hundreds of miles away. The veins in his forearm clearly bulge out from the effort. There’s no telling how obscene the look on his face is right now.

It’s clear he’s nearing his peak from the way he’s whimpering. Small sounds and gasps leave his lips incessantly. His palm moves at a rapid pace, growing more sloppier by the second. A sharp, wanton whine escapes him before he murmurs. “Mmm, baby. Close—fuck. So fucking close, baby. Shit—gonna— m’gonna cum for you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His cock pulses as cum spills all over his abdomen. Carmy’s hips continue to fuck his hand through his orgasm as he whimpers with every spurt of cum. There’s no coherency to his sounds; only carnal moans escape him.

He continues to fist his cock until he’s milked himself dry. Carmy’s painted with cum; it’s all over him. His white-covered abs rise and fall rapidly while he catches his breath. Finally, he lets go of his cock with a groan.

Carmy looks at himself through the video on his phone and chuckles lowkey. “Made a mess didn’t I?” His hand falls to his stomach. He traces out your first initial in the pool of white before letting his palm smear the cum across his abs.

After a moment, he spreads his fingers in front of the camera, showing the ropes of cum sticking to his hand. His voice is gravelly as he speaks.“Fuck. Guess I need to go hop in the shower. See you soon, baby.”

[viareblogsstuff]

need him biblically fuckkkkk

𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎 - 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒙 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

kinktober 2024 masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The bathroom is already full of steam by the time you step inside, the hot water running in the shower and the room thick with the scent of Drew’s body wash. You can hear him humming softly from behind the curtain, and a small smile tugs at your lips as you lean against the door, watching the silhouette of his body move under the water.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask, your voice teasing.

You don’t wait for an answer. Pulling off your clothes, you step into the shower, the hot water cascading over your skin as Drew turns to face you. His hair is damp, water running down his chest in rivulets, and the moment his eyes meet yours, that easy, boyish smile spreads across his face.

“Was wondering when you’d stop just staring,” he teases, his hands already reaching for you, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed together under the hot spray. His skin is warm, slick, and you can’t help but sigh as his fingers trail down your sides, resting just above your hips.

“I wasn’t staring,” you counter, though your voice is softer now, your breath catching as he leans down to press a kiss to your neck, his lips brushing against your wet skin.

“Mhm. Sure.” Drew chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body, and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. His hands slide lower, gripping your waist as he turns you around, your back pressing against his chest. The warmth of the water mixes with the heat of his body, creating a haze of sensation that leaves you breathless.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. There’s something about the way he says it, the way his hands move over you with such care, that makes your heart flutter.

His fingers glide over your skin, slow and deliberate, working the tension out of your muscles as the hot water pounds against you both. His touch is gentle, but the way he grips your hips, holding you steady, sends a thrill of anticipation shooting through you.

“You like that?” Drew whispers in your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below it. His hands move higher, cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples as you let out a quiet moan, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“Mhm,” you manage to breathe, the heat between you intensifying as his hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you with slow, deliberate strokes. The water makes everything feel slick and heightened, every touch magnified by the warmth and closeness.

Drew’s lips trace a path down the side of your neck, his stubble lightly scraping your skin as his hands continue their slow exploration. One hand slips lower, fingers trailing down your stomach until they find the spot where you need him most. His fingers slide over your core, teasing you with light, lazy strokes that have you arching back against him, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Drew,” you gasp, your hands reaching back to grip his hair, pulling him closer as his fingers circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your legs tremble.

“Just relax,” he whispers, his voice rough now, his lips pressing against your shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

His fingers move with perfect precision, slipping inside you as his thumb presses against your clit, the sensation overwhelming under the hot spray of the water. You can feel the tension building inside you, your body responding to his touch in a way that feels almost unbearable in its intensity.

You try to move, to push back against him, but Drew holds you firmly in place, his grip on your waist tightening as he works you over with slow, deliberate strokes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, how to drive you crazy with each flick of his wrist, each brush of his thumb. The pressure builds and builds, until you can’t take it anymore.

“Drew, I’m—” Your words are cut off by a gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. Drew doesn’t stop; his fingers keep moving, drawing out your release until you’re trembling in his arms, completely undone.

When it’s over, you collapse against him, your head resting on his chest as you try to catch your breath. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the tension, leaving you feeling weightless and sated.

Drew chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?”

You nod, still trying to find your voice, your body humming from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Yeah,” you manage to whisper, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Definitely okay.”

His hands stay on your waist, and for a moment, the only sound in the room is the water cascading over you both. Drew's grip loosens as he leans back against the shower wall, pulling you with him until you're resting comfortably against his chest.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of your temple in a lingering kiss. “I think we both needed that.”

[viareblogsstuff]

dare i say… a masterpiece?

★ reader has a hard day and begs fwb!rafe to hit her during sex

you convulsed under rafe’s body as he pounded into you, breaths short and heavy. you thanked god that rafe answered his phone at 2am, letting you come over to his house for your “arrangement”. everything’s been going so wrong lately, you just needed to be of good use to someone, in any way.

rafe chuckled at your dazed figure underneath him, biting his lip as he leaned into you. he brought your leg over his shoulder as the other was pinned to the mattress by his hand. you groaned as his cock slid deeper, hitting your gspot perfectly.

“such a fucking slut” he spat, his bangs flopping against his sweaty forehead. you drank up his belittlement of you, closing your eyes.

but you needed more.

“rafe?….”

“—so tight for me fuck…” he was lost in his own pleasure, letting out groans at the feeling of your wet cunt.

“rafe—

—h-hit me.”

you whined, staring up at him with glossy, doe eyes. his hips stammers as he looked back at you, a look of confusion painting his face before shaking his head, as if he didn’t hear you right. his hands snaked up your body, crawling their way to your neck. you felt the thick flesh of his palms around your throat, closing in on it tightly.

“please, i need it…” you wheezed through his pressure. a tear streamed down your cheek as your hand caressed his arm, begging for him to raise it.

“fuck- y/n” he couldn’t do it. not you. even if you two found pleasure in each other from time to time, it's not like he didn't respect you. he made eye contact with your tearful eyes one last time, seeing how bad you needed it.

“……please” you rasped one last time, nodding your head slowly. you knew how he’d lash out from time to time, and you needed to feel him to use it on you. giving him the final go ahead, rafe sped up, shaking his head in frustration. god fucking dammit.

*crack*

with one sharp movement, rafe released your neck, his large palm coming down on your cheek fast and hard, making your head whip to the side as a cry slipped out. you writhed from the sensation, your cheek flushed and vibrating. you smiled softly to yourself, finally feeling relief from the chaos of your negative thoughts.

rafe let out an angered exhale, leaning down before grabbing both sides of your head, his teeth against your reddening cheek. his pace became harder, snapping his hips as the springs whined underneath you two.

“—don’t ever make me fucking do that again” he spat through gritted teeth, his words firm.

“thank you, rafey” you groaned, eyes fluttering in ecstasy.

he scoffed at your words, a small tear in his heart forming as he looked down at your red, mascara stained cheek.

it wasn’t long after that rafe’s pace and intensity made you release, coming undone in his big, strong arms. he held you closer than ever, grip tight on your limp body as he used your walls to make himself cum. you twitched at the familiar feeling of his warm spurts coating your insides.

rafe pulled put weakly before collapsing next to you, the both of you gazing at the ceiling.

“y/n—“ he started, pulling you into him.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” you shook your head, nuzzling into his warm figure.

[viareblogsstuff]

lethargic | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, stubborn (and sleepy) reader, use of petnames, no use of yn

Summary: anon prompt - R is a wee bit sleep deprived-- perhaps they're working hard on a case, and Em just drags them off to go cuddle and sleep

Word count: 1k

The cold air is a sharp contrast to Emily’s steaming skin as she walks out of the bathroom. Her skimpy attire of a cotton camisole and short shorts hardly defends against the cold; goosebumps rise on her bare arms, a small shiver going through her as she shuts the bathroom door behind her and glances around her room. 

You’re not on the bed like she expected you to be. Emily frowns.

“Babe?” She calls out as she leaves the room, padding into the hallway where the lights are still on.

“Here,” you answer, your voice audibly distracted. And a fair bit drowsy, too.

Emily’s bare feet are silent on the floor as she follows the sound of your voice, finally finding you when she walks into the living room. You’re on the couch, bent over the open files on the coffee table.

“Hey,” she frowns, “what are you doing? It’s late.”

You tiredly rub your eye. “Jus’ wanted to finish this,” you mumble, not looking up at her as your pen flies across the page. Emily walks over to the couch and peers down into the file, frowning deeper when she finds a half-finished report for the case you just came back from an hour ago.

She’s surprised, but she honestly shouldn’t be. Your work ethic is intense and—to her—ridiculous at times, so situations like these are not uncommon every once in a while.

“It’s not the time for that, hon.” She bends to kiss your temple, placing her hand on top of yours and gently stalling your writing. Her wet hair drapes over your head, skimming your cheek, “With me, c’mon.” She murmurs into your skin.

You shake your head. “Wanna do it while it’s still fresh.” The words twist around a yawn you try—in vain—to conceal.

Emily’s lips leave your forehead as she looks down at you. She gently hooks her finger under your chin and tilts your face up, stifling a smile when you blink at her with drowsy, half-lidded eyes.

“I hardly think it’s fresh when you can barely see ten paces in front of you. C’mon, chérie, did you body-swap with Hotch or something? Up.” She pulls the pen from your fingers and tosses it somewhere on the floor. You frown and Emily ignores it, wrapping both hands around your own and forcefully tugging you up.

You resist, but she digs her heels into the floor and pulls harder, forcing you to stumble up from the couch. She steadies you when you half-crash into her. 

“Emily, I need’ta finish it,” you protest as she links her fingers through yours.

“You will finish it,” she drags you to the bedroom, not even bothering to turn off the living room lights, “tomorrow. Now we need to sleep. God knows we’ve been awake long enough.” Her words escape in a low mutter. The case was long and tiring; all her weary bones want to do is sink into your embrace, curl around you so tight she can’t tell where she ends and you begin. Instead you’re doing paperwork. 

Paperwork that can very much wait until tomorrow.

Emily drags you into the room and very firmly shuts the door. You’re grumbling under your breath so she turns, drops your hand, and surges forward to wrap her arms around your neck.

“Cuddle me,” she demands.

A low chuckle tickles the skin of her neck. Emily stifles the urge to shiver as you hold her back, tightly despite your reluctance.

“So demanding,” you yawn, your face falling into her collarbone. Your lashes flutter against her skin; you sink into her, your chest brushing hers, and she doesn’t know who’s holding who up.

“And you’re so stubborn.” She returns, tilting her head to catch your lips with hers. You sigh into the kiss, your fingers digging into the warm skin of her midriff. The soft cotton of her camisole scrapes against your harsh work button-down. “I don’t think even Hotch has his own report done.” She mumbles against your lips. 

“Please,” you scoff, “he writes them on the plane.”

“Well, he’s Unit Chief. You’re,”—kiss—“not.” Emily’s lips trace yours. Another kiss goes to the corner of your mouth, “And thank fuck for that.”

You hum, the vibrations of it traveling from your mouth to hers. “’M so tired.” The confession comes out slurred, adorably so. 

Emily bites back a smile. 

“Are you?” She brushes the hair away from your sleepy eyes. “I hadn’t noticed. Sit down.” She nudges you backward in the direction of the bed, dropping a soft kiss on your lips, “I’ll get you your pjs.”

Thankfully, you don’t protest. Not even when she starts unbuttoning your shirt and not when she helps you wriggle into your pajamas. When you slide beneath the sheets with no complaints, Emily lets out a low sigh, both relieved and content as she nestles right into your arms.

The slip of the cold sheets is soothing on her bare skin. She hooks a leg over your hip, sliding her hand into your hair when you nuzzle into her neck. Her finger lazily twists around a lock of hair.

“You smell nice,” you say, your voice muffled and drowsy.

Emily smiles at the compliment. “Just showered. Like you should’ve been doing.”

“Hmm. T’morrow,” you mumble.

“Tomorrow.” she kisses your forehead. Once, then twice, for good measure. “Goodnight, chérie.”

“Love you.” You whisper.

“Love you back.”

As you curl into her, your hand slipping under her camisole to rest on her skin and your lashes gently fluttering closed against her jaw, both Emily’s wishes are fulfilled. She stays awake only a little longer than you do, taking a few brief minutes to soak in the warmth of your body against hers. A few more ghostly kisses to your forehead, a twirl or two of your hair around her index finger, and soon after that she’s tumbling into the swift darkness of sleep.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[viareblogsstuff]

get to know pogue!reader

pogue!reader who is super smart, knows what she wants, a little hyper independent, works hard for what she wants. she's easy to be around, she studied her life away to get a good scholarship, it didn't come until a year later, she had applied for thousands of scholarships and the community college finally gave her one. she wants to be a nurse but thinks being a teacher will be better fitting in obx. 

pogue!reader who is sweet, kind, shy and sassy at the same time. she stands on business, loves to help others. elderly people love her, everyone that meets her likes her. she's a sunshine,  just don't provoke her. she's a family girl, her mom is the most important person to her, and the pogues are her chosen family.

pogue!reader loves books, berries, flowers and painting. she doesn't have enough time sometimes to do stuff but when she does she enjoys it. loves sunsets and having a golden retriever one of her dream. escapes from the pogues from time to time to just be by herself. she feels guilty for wanting to stop being a pogue and get a better life, she has only admitted that to her mom and pope, who agreed with her, she still feels guilty about it.

pogue!reader who even kooks like her, the elderly more always saying how sweet she looked and how kind she was. she met this old couple once at the cafe she worked at, the sweetest elderly couple. she became their friend and they always gave her jobs in their events and helped her find a new job with better pay that allows her to help her mom with house bills. who is also friends with sarah thanks to john b the only kook the pogues accept and enjoy being around.

pogue!reader who for whatever reason is rafe’s soft spot, he doesn’t like her at least that’s what he keeps telling himself, but if she’s alone at a kegger keeps her company, cold? no problem his jacket is around her. she doesn’t get it either but at the same time doesn't complain. she put him in his place, he hates that. she’s outspoken, sassy, a smartass as he would call her but he finds that appealing, hot even. they can easily talk with each other. when he finds out she works at the country club, he finds the most stupid excuses to be there all the time. topper teases him about it but lets him be even comes with him to be used as his excuse and thats when he understands why rafe likes her so much. 

taglist: @starkeyvhs

authors note: im so happy to finally introduce her! im so excited for you guys to know her story, all that i have planned for her, this feels like a milestone because i have never let anyone read anything of what i've written ever in my life so i really hope you get to like her as much as i do and to like what i have planned.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[viareblogsstuff]

fuck i miss him so bad:( this was so sweet and captured so many emotions beautifully written!!!

Obvious - Fezco

Summary: You insist on meeting your cousin Rue's drug dealer and an interesting friendship develops in the process.

Fezco x Reader

Word Count: 4,840

Author's Note: Started this in March of 2022 and it's finally getting posted lol. This is my first Fezco fic since Angus' passing which is so hard to type I'm crying at that. I still miss him. A lot. Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Rue was your closest cousin. Not that you had many, and the few you did have lived somewhere outside of East Highland, but that was beside the point. She was a year younger than you, so the two of you spent most of your childhood glued to one another. When her dad died, you saw the toll it took on her. You realized then that she started using but she played it off like she had it all under control. That’s what an addict does. Eventually you did confront her about it. She said it was mostly weed, so you let it slide. One day she had you drive her to restock her supply. That’s when you met Fezco for the first time.

“So you’re the guy selling my baby cousin drugs,” you blurted out after Rue did a quick introduction then started making her way to Ashtray behind the refrigerated drinks.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” Rue shouted at you annoyed. “You’re only a year older than me.”

“A year and three months,” you corrected. You only got specific with the three months to annoy Rue. You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the ginger sitting on the counter in front of you. “And how old are you?”

Fez observed you carefully. It’s not everyday some random person immediately brings up him selling drugs directly to his face. Especially a cute random person. “You always talk to new people like this?”

“Only when my cousin’s health is at stake.” You sighed and shook your head. “Look, I don’t have beef with you. I realized a while ago that Rue’s gonna do what she wants. I just want to make sure she’s being safe about it... well, as safe as you can get with drugs.”

Fez nodded along as you spoke understanding your concern for your cousin. He knew Rue wasn’t going around promoting that she was doing drugs or that he sold. You were just looking out for her. “I get it.”

“I’ve heard too many stories about people overdosing on Fentanyl or something they didn’t know was laced with Fentanyl. I don’t want to find out that happened to my cousin.”

“You don’t have to worry, ma. I don’t mess with that shit. All my stuff is good.”

You squinted at him taking in his words. “Better be. Otherwise I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Fez chuckled. He didn’t doubt for a second you wouldn’t fight behind Rue. “Understood.”

“You go to school with Rue? I ain’t never seen you ‘round before.” Fez went to most of the East Highland High School parties to deal. Since he’s never seen you there, either you didn’t go to that school, or you didn’t go to parties. Either way, he was missing out on you. 

“Oh God, no,” you said. “I go to Centenary.”

“Oh, so you smart smart.” You smiled and rolled your eyes at Fezco’s statement, and he decided right then and there that was something he wanted to see more of.

“Something like that,” you replied giggling.

“You ready to go, Y/N,” Rue popped up practically out of no where and asked. Damn, why did Rue have to be so quick.

“Uhh, yeah,” you said to your cousin. Rue shoved her hands into her dad’s old maroon jacket and started to walk out the store. You turned to Fezco and said, “I’m gonna be watching you, sir.”

Fez smiled at the thought. “I look forward to it, ma.”

After that, you made a few impromptu trips to Fez’s store without Rue. You told him your grandma lived in the neighborhood, which she did, so it wasn’t a lie. But Fez did point out that before Rue, you had never came to the store before. 

“I mean I could always go somewhere else for my carbonated beverages if you want,” you said as you turned on your heel to leave the store without making your usual purchase.

“Nah,” Fez replied grabbing your wrist stopping you, “I ain’t say all that.”

When your mom told you that Rue overdosed, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe if you had told your Aunt Leslie what Rue was doing, she could have got some help. But you knew Rue. Ever since her dad’s death she had been struggling. She would have to finally deal with that grief if she was going to stop, and you knew that was the last thing she wanted to do.

A few days after Rue’s overdose, you went to visit Fezco. You weren’t sure if he knew or not. Even though he was her dealer, he was close to Rue, so you thought he should know. And it would be better coming from you than to hear it on the street.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” Fezco greeted you with a smile on his face. 

You tried to smile at the red head, but it was weak. “Hey Fezco.”

“What’s wrong,” Fez asked, immediately knowing something was up.

You walked to him fiddling with your fingers nervous to tell him about your cousin. “Uh... it’s Rue,” you said looking up at him with somber eyes. “She overdosed.”

Fez’s face became tense. He didn’t question it. He wasn’t shocked, just sad.

You couldn’t take looking into his piercing blue eyes any longer and set your eyes on the candy on the counter. “She’s still at the hospital going through withdrawals. Aunt Leslie’s going to put her in rehab when she gets out.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Fez said as he placed his hand on your arm to comfort you. Your eyes met his again and you could tell he genuinely felt bad.

“Its..,” you paused and laughed. “I was going to say it’s okay, but its not. She didn’t die, so that’s great but... I didn’t know it was this bad with her.”

Fez dropped his hand and leaned against the counter behind him. “Why’d you come here, ma?”

You looked at him confused. “What are you talking about? Rue’s your friend, I thought you should know.”

“She is but... you ain’t come here to blame me?”

You were taken aback. “No, Fez. It’s not your fault. Rue made a choice. And if she didn’t get her drugs from you, it would be someone else.”

Fez was quiet as he took in what you said. You wanted to, no, needed him to understand this wasn’t his fault. 

“Listen to me Fezco. Rue’s got a lot of problems that she has to deal with. She was using drugs to cope with her grief. I know you wouldn’t want her to OD. I’d rather know she was going to you for her fix, than some random guy who didn’t give two shits about whether or not she lived or died. So I don’t want you putting any of this on yourself, okay?”

Fez gave a small nod to let you knew he understood. You don’t know if he actually believed what you said, but you were glad it was out there. 

Over the summer, you visited the store more frequently. You did see him outside the store once at a pool party. Of course you pointed out that you’d never seen him at a party before. Your crowd was a little different than the East Highland High School bunch. Fez played it off though, but you knew he was only there for you. 

An unexpected hangout occurred one evening when you stopped by the store on a cloudy day. The flow of customers was already crazy slow, then it started raining and store had been empty besides you, Fez, and Ash for the last hour.  

“Aye, bro, can we go home? I’m bored as shit,” Ash said coming from behind the refrigerators. 

Fez looked to you sitting on top of the freezer that held the popsicles and ice-cream before he spoke. “Uh, yeah. Go head and pack up.”

You hopped off your self designated spot in store. “Welp, I guess that’s my queue to head home.” 

“Nah,” Fez said and stopped you in your tracks. “You ain’t gotta go home.”

“But I gotta get outta here,” you interrupted giggling. 

“Nah, ma. I was finna say you could come to my place and hang... if you want.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Fez’s and your relationship mostly consisted of you just hanging out at his store while he worked. The two of you texted every now and then, but that was about it. 

“Oh... Uh, sure,” you managed to stammer out. Then you realized that didn’t sound very enthusiastic so you added, “Yeah, I’d love to come over.”

You followed Fez and Ashtray home in your car since you drove yourself to the store. You were anxious the whole way there and the rain definitely wasn’t helping. 

Fez’s place looked homey. The living room felt familiar; the couches reminding you of your grandma’s house. 

“You want anythin’ to drank,” Fez asked making his way to the kitchen.

“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks though,” you replied slowly making your way to where he went. It was always awkward the first time you went over to a friend’s house. 

Fez reappeared from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He eyed you for a second before speaking. “You want to watch a movie or somethin’?”

The rest of the evening was spent on Fez’s couch, watching old 90′s movies. Even Ashtray joined you for one. It was nice. It felt normal, not like you somehow became friends with you cousin’s drug dealer.

“Oh my God, Fezzy,” you shouted excitedly. “You won’t believe- Rue,” you paused when you saw your cousin coming from the back door that led to Ashtray. You glanced at Fez, then back to Rue. “What are you doing here?”

“Just popped in for a visit,” Rue answered. Her hands fidgeted in her pockets of her dad’s jacket. 

“Unhuh...,” you hummed knowing she didn’t just stop by to see the boys.

“What are you doing here,” Rue asked curious.

“I came by to see Fez,” you stated quickly. “You just got out of rehab, Rue.”

Rue rolled her eyes at you. “Yeah, and I had no plans on staying clean. I learned my lesson cuz. I know my limits now.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You only know your limits cause you overdosed Rue! You almost died!”

“Key word being almost.”

“Oh my God,” you shook your head again turning away from the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later, Fez,” you said then turned to walk out of the store.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rue said and you stopped in your tracks. “You’re not gonna tell my mom are you?”

You huffed exhausted by your cousin. You telling her mom should be the least of her concerns. You still faced the door but turned your head to look at Rue. Your eyes glossed over with frustrated tears. “I wish you cared about yourself like the rest of us do.” 

Two weeks went by before you saw Fez again. The ginger was starting to think you blamed him for Rue’s relapse. Even though you had told him Rue made a choice to do drugs so it wasn’t his fault, your silence made him think you thought otherwise now. 

It was Sunday afternoon when Fez heard someone at his door. He looked through the peephole and saw you, then quickly opened the door.

“What’s up, ma?”

“Hey... I went by the store first but you weren’t there. I know I should have called or something, but I just wanted to see you.”

“Nah, you good. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“Nah, come in,” Fez said then stepped to the side to let you in. 

“Thanks,” you replied as you walked past him. You had only been in Fez’s place once, but it felt familiar. You just stood in the entry way while Fez closed the door. “Um, can we talk?”

“Yeah, come on,” Fez said nodding towards the living room. 

Fez took his usual place on the couch and you followed suit sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry about ghosting you these last two weeks,” you said, not being able to make eye contact with him. You felt guilty for ignoring him even though your issues were with Rue. Fez just sat there quiet. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you needed him to say something. “Not to sound cliché, but it was me not you.”

“It sure felt like it was because of me,” Fez said.

You turned on the couch to face him more. “It wasn’t, Fez. I promise. I’m mad at Rue, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but she got her drugs from me and Ash. I could have told her no.”

“And then she would have thrown a fit and went somewhere else. Probably somewhere dangerous.” 

“Why you keep makin’ excuses for me? You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

“What,” you asked, your eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Fez, no, I don’t want to be anywhere else but near you.” You spoke before you could realize what you were saying but it was true. Fez finally looked towards you and you averted his eyes. The silence was too loud. You were careful with your next words. “If I have to tell you every day, then I will,” you said slowly then looked back up at him. “Rue’s choice to do drugs, and keep doing them after her OD, is hers and hers alone. It’s not your fault.” 

Fez took in what you said and how it made him feel then began to shake his head. “Nah, y/n. You tryin’ to justify it still don’t make it right.”

“Fine,” you said exhausted, throwing your hands up in the air. “It’s not right! Rue coping with drugs. You selling her drugs. None of it is right, okay! But Rue is family and you’re my friend. So I’m not going anywhere,” you shouted then just fell back into the couch crossing your arms over your chest. 

Fez just watched you from his place on the couch. Anger and annoyance evident on your face. The situation sucked, but Fez didn’t want to lose you. He was worried if Rue overdosed again, not only would he lose a sister, but you would never forgive him. Regardless of how much you told him it wasn’t his fault she was on drugs, he was the supplier. But, if you wanted to keep being friends with him, who was he to tell you no. 

“Aight, ma,” Fez drawled out in his usual tone. 

“Aight what,” you asked for clarification. 

“You’re right... and stubborn,” Fez said, trying to stifle a laugh. 

You eyed him cautiously. “Elaborate.” 

Fez stayed sitting forward, but turned his head turned towards you and let it fall back on the couch. “Rue’s gonna find a way to do drugs whether or not I give them to her. She was on them before she met me.”

You uncrossed your arms resting them in your lap as you sighed feeling sorry about your cousin. You hated the mess she got in and wished for nothing more than her sobriety. While you were thinking about Rue, Fez’s hand grabbed your forearm then slid down to your hand, pulling it so it was on the empty cushion space between you two, so he could hold it.

“And you’re right about us being friends,” Fez continued. You bit your lip trying to stop your grin from getting too big, and Fez returned a small smile. 

After that day, you had seen less of Fez than you usually had in the summer. It was your senior year, so you were busy trying to keep your grades up while staying active in your clubs. You explained your schedule to Fez so he didn’t trip at the fact that he was seeing less of you. 

Things between you and Rue were strained. After you talked to Fez, you talked to your cousin and told her if she kept doing drugs you weren’t going to stick around and watch her kill herself. You were no longer holding any sympathy for what she was going through. Your Aunt Leslie and Gia managed to keep living without having their grief hold them back, why couldn’t Rue at least try? But Rue became spiteful, not caring that you were cutting yourself off from her. 

You missed how things were in the summer. No stress. Rue was in rehab so you knew she was safe. Spending afternoons at Fez’s store. Missing Fez was how you found yourself at an East Highland party. One of your friends brought it up and you were quick to agree to the outing. You knew he would be dealing at the party, and that was more than enough of a reason to go.

“Hey,” Rue said plopping down on the couch by Fez.

“What’s up, kid?”

“What’s going on with you and my cousin,” Rue asked, cutting straight to the chase. She was never one to beat around the bush.

“Whatchu mean,” Fez asked.

“Y/N doesn’t do parties. Especially not East Highland parties. And I know she’s not here for me.”

“Shit, she might be here for you,” Fez replied nonchalantly but he was hoping you were here for him. He missed seeing you on a regular basis. 

“Nah, she’s not even talking to me right now. Cut me off cause I won’t stop using. Trying to teach me a lesson or some shit,” Rue said while she rolled her eyes. “So much for family.”

“Don’t say that shit, Rue.” Fez was getting agitated, because he knew how much you cared for her. “That girl loves you. She just wants you to do better.”

“If she loved me, she wouldn’t leave,” Rue argued, her shoulders tensing up. 

“Nah, kid. That’s not how love works. She just doesn’t want to sit around and watch you kill yo’self.”

Rue sat there stunned, your words replaying in her head. “That’s exactly what Y/N told me... how much have you two been hanging out?”

Fez just shook his head as he took his blunt from behind his ear and lit it. “She misses you. Talk to her, Rue.”

You had been at the party for about an hour now. Attempting to play it cool as if Fez wasn’t the sole reason for you being there, you were trying to wait before you went and actually spoke to him. You noticed him a few minutes after you arrived. The two of you made eye contact and waved, but that was it.

Finally managing to leave your friends, you were making your way to Fezco when Rue stepped in front of you.

“Oh sor- hey Rue.”

“Hey, cuz,” Rue said. She looked... nervous. She was fidgeting with her jacket’s hood strings. Her eyes looking practically everywhere else but at you. “Um, can we talk for a sec?”

You looked past her to see Fez still sitting on the couch. Some guy coming up to him to make a deal. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s step outside.”

Rue nodded, then you both made your way to the front door. There was too much going on in the backyard to have a private conversation there. You opened the door and let Rue step out into the cool night air first. 

You leaned against one of the front porch beams while Rue just stood there awkwardly and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. 

The silence between you two was awkward which was a first. You tried to wait for Rue to speak, but she struggled to find the words.

“What’s up, Rue?”

“Umm, I just- I,” Rue stammered out while she fidgeted in her spot. “Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. We’ve never not talked to each other like this and I hate it. I miss you.”

You sighed, sorrow filling your eyes. “I miss you, too, cousin.”

Rue’s eyes glossed over as she started to smile. “Uh, I haven’t been using as much anymore.”

You reached out and placed your hand on her wrist for a moment. “That’s great.”

Rue nodded, her eyes dogging around. “Yeah... I met someone.”

“Oh,” you replied, your eyebrows rising up in surprise. You were thrilled Rue was using less, but you knew if her sobriety was because of a person, it wouldn’t last long. “Do I know them?”

“No, she’s new. Her name is Jules.”

“Jules,” you repeated, making sure you pronounced it right.

Rue nodded, her smile growing bigger. “Yeah, she’s here tonight. Pretty blonde in the bright pink mini skirt.”

“You look happy.”

She ran her fingers through her curls, pushing her hair back. “I’m working on it.”

It was quiet for a moment as you looked down at your cousin. “Hey, Rue.”

“Yeah?”

“I know we haven’t been talking, but... you know I’m here if you need me.” You placed your hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“I know,” Rue said nodding. Then you placed your other hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. Since you were on the step above her, you towered over her in the hug so you sat your chin on her head.

“Okay... you can let go now, Y/N,” Rue said after you were holding onto her a little too long.

“No, gotta make up for lost time,” you said, hugging her tighter.

“It wasn’t that much time.”

“It felt like forever,” you said dragging out the r then placing a bunch of kisses on Rue’s head.

“Ew, okay okay, I get it,” Rue said squirming in your arms. “Why don’t you go and kiss Fez?”

You stopped abruptly, pulling back slightly to look down at Rue. “Why would you say that? Did he... did he say something to you?”

Rue gently pushed herself out of your arms. “No, but it’s obvious something is happening between you two.”

“What,” you asked shaking your head, nervously running your hand over your hair. “Nothing’s happening. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends who wanna fuck,” Rue replied. She was always the blunt one in the family. 

“Rue!”

“Am I wrong,” she asked, her eyes on you.

“Uhh-I mean...”

“Un huh. Just tell him how you feel,” Rue said as she started to make her way back into the party.

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

Rue turned around so she was walking backwards now. “It is when the other person likes you back.” Then she turned back around and you lost sight of her in the sea of people.

“But...,” you shouted then began to whisper since you no longer saw her, “how do you know he likes me?”

Now you were nervous. You weren’t really one to flirt, at least not on purpose anyway. It was one thing to act normal around Fez and pretend you didn’t have a huge crush on him, it was another for someone to tell you he liked you and pretend to be normal. What if Rue was wrong? What if whatever sign she was getting from Fezco, was just him being a good friend, and not him being interested in you?

You made your way back into the party, but completely passed by the living room and went straight for the bathroom. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a line so you went right in. You locked the door then went to the mirror to look at yourself. Everything was still in place. Your lipstick was perfect. Your hair styled the way you liked it. Now, if only you could get that look of fear off your face. 

“Breath, Y/N,” you said to yourself. You took a long exhale then inhaled. “Rue wouldn’t lie to you... well, maybe about drugs but not about this. And it’s Fez. Just put out some feelers to see where his head is at.��� You nodded at yourself then turned the faucet on to splash a little water on yourself. Then your eyes grew wide as you thought, looking at yourself in the mirror again. “But what if he’s just being nice? IT’S FEZ! He’d never intentionally be mean to me. So how will I know if he’s only being polite and not actually flirting with me. Ughh!”

You dried your hand on a nearby towel then turned away from the mirror. You took some deep breaths to try and shake off the nervous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. “Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine.” You thought about every time you hung out with Fez over the summer. Going to his house for the first time. Him giving you candy for free at the store. Him holding your hand on his couch. Fez was a good friend and you didn’t want to lose that, but you couldn’t keep holding your feelings for the ginger in. 

“Hey Y/N,” Fezco said once you stopped in front of him. A small smile growing on his lips. Somehow his eyes managed to shimmer in the crappy living room lighting. 

“Uh can you give me a ride home? I don’t feel so hot and I can’t find my friends.”

Technically it wasn’t a lie. You didn’t feel great. Your anxiety about asking Fez how he felt about you made you sick to your stomach.

“Sure thing, ma,” Fez replied, getting up from the couch without a second thought. Add that to the list of reasons you liked Fez. He would drop everything for you. The party wasn’t done so there was still money to be made, yet here he was, walking you out the party to his car.

The ride was quiet and awkward which was unusual. You only felt awkward around Fez when you had to bring up Rue’s drug addiction. Glancing over at Fez, he was oblivious to the worry that was going on in your head. His eyes focused on the dark road ahead as he nodded along to the music. The streetlights highlighting his freckles as you drove through the neighborhood. 

“Do you like me,” you asked, interrupting Fez.

Fez’s eyes left the road for a moment confused at your sudden change in the conversation. He readjusted himself in his spot before he spoke. “Yeah, course I like you. Wouldn’t be giving you a ride home if I didn’t.”

You shook your head annoyed. “No, Fez. I mean do you like like me? Like if we were in middle school and you found a note in your locker that said ‘do you like me? Yes or no.’ Which one would you circle?”

“Oh.”

Oh. OH! What did he mean by oh. Your brain was running a mile a minute now. Fez better say something else and quick. 

After what felt like forever, but was only about 5 seconds. “Yeah... thought it was obvious I was feelin’ you.” 

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “Obvious?”

“Yeah, I mean I thought you was real cute that first day you came in the store grillin’ me about what I was sellin’ Rue.” Fez chuckled to himself remembering that day.

“You thought I was cute,” you asked baffled. This was all so confusing for you. 

Fez shook his head, eyes still focused on the road. “You gonna just keep repeating everything I’m sayin?”

“Uhh, yeah,” you replied, your eyes wide trying to prosses what he was saying to you. “It doesn’t make sense and you’re being so nonchalant about this.”

“How am I supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, your hands flailing around. “Not like this! Just a minute ago I was freaking out wondering if I would ruin our friendship, or if there was even the slightest chance you liked me back... and you do. My brain can’t comprehend.” 

Fezco put his car in park and you realized you were in front of you house. “Well, comprehend, ma.”

You slouched back in your seat staring out at the road ahead of you taking it all in. Rue was right. “What do we do now?”

Fez reached over the center console and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Well, we could start with a date?”

You turned at looked at Fez, biting your lip to stop your smile from getting too big. “I’d like that,” you said, nodding your head.

“Cool,” Fez said smiling. 

“Cool,” you repeated grinning right back. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. 

“You know what. I’m feeling way better now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah... don’t think I’m quite ready to go inside yet.”

“You got something in mind?”

“Not really,” you said, pausing to think for a second. “Just not ready to leave you yet,” you replied, squeezing his hand a little while rubbing your thumb back and forth on the back of his hand.

Fezco’s checks got incredibly hotter as he looked away from you avoiding your eyes. He let go of your hand and put his car back in drive beginning to drive off then said, "I think I know a place."

[viareblogsstuff]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[viareblogsstuff]

Family Style

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x AFAB Reader

Warnings: none? some angst? syd and carmy having a spat in the middle of dinner service, what's new

Word Count: 600 something, it's a little guy I'm new here

Syd is yelling at him. 

She’s absolutely fucking shouting at him and he deserves it because he shouted first, but Richie is yelling something too and Carmy isn’t entirely sure who he’s supposed to be listening to—

“Carmen.” 

He hears his name over and over again, like an alarm he forgot to turn off, half-asleep as it just goes and goes—but his mouth is still going, shaping some words he probably doesn’t even mean but Sydney’s volume is matching his and that’s just second nature, to reach that level—

“Carmen Berzatto,” a finger snapping in his face, the sight of you coming into focus when he finally looks up from the paper in front of him, Sydney still screaming from your other side. 

“Honestly, like why the fuck even speak if you’re just not going to listen—“ Syd is saying, and Carmy just—

“Sydney! Carmen! Shut the fuck up, chefs!” You shout, and the whole kitchen just…quiets. 

Silence. 

Chopping stops; everyone stops moving. Even Richie is looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

Not once have you raised your voice in this kitchen. Not once. 

Even though, admittedly—childishly—he might have been trying to provoke you into it once or twice, just to see if eventually you’d crack. He’s such a fucking asshole for that and he knows it, they all know it, but it never happened. Your voice has always been perfectly even, perfectly controlled. 

Maybe that’s what he hates about you. 

He hated it from the moment Sydney brought you in, that control. He has none of that and it comes to you so effortlessly; the careful choice of words and the one-two punch of the right thing to say that hits him so hard in the gut when he’s so used to everything being the wrong thing. 

“That’s enough.” You snap, so loud that Richie jumps in the already-quiet of the kitchen. “Chefs, fire two t-bones, two cannoli, three bone broths, and one foccacia. Now.” 

There’s a chorus of yes, chef, that rings through the kitchen as everyone moves to action, and Carmy and Syd are just left standing there with you so deliberately between them. Carmy’s chest feels tight. 

“We’re not going to do that, ever again,” you snap at them, and Carmy feels—well, he feels a little bit like he’s just been scolded by a teacher. Syd has a look on her face that tells him she feels the same. 

“New rule,” you start to say, as the two of them stand there like children, heads hung. “Every night, we’re going to have a debrief. None of us will leave this restaurant until we’ve hashed out what has gone wrong and what we can do better. We are not going to bring what happened yesterday back into this fucking kitchen. I don’t care if I have to chain you both to the goddamn bar and keep you there until three in the morning. We are never, ever going to do this again. Am I clear?” 

You look between them and Syd is the first to nod vigorously, an apologetic look on her face and a fist closed over her heart. 

“Heard, chef,” Syd says, nodding. 

Then you and Syd are looking at him expectantly, and he’s just so—hot. The kitchen feels suddenly really warm when you’ve got that look in your eye, and some threat about being tied to something is swimming around in his head. You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

“Heard,” he whispers, unable to get the word to come out any louder, fist on his chest in response to Sydney. “Heard.” 

The rest of service, they’re on their very best behavior, even if Carmen’s heart beats way too hard every time you look his way. 

[viareblogsstuff]

Red Wine Supernova

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × Fem!Reader

For: Anonymous Request, @cmkinkbingo2024, and @imagining-in-the-margins Pride Challenge!

EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT

Content Warnings: Partially clothed, fingerings, rough (all consensual), reader + Emily are closeted, coming out (everyone is supportive), Emily calls reader baby, reader has afab anatomy

Summary: You tease Emily at a party and she decides she's had enough.

Author's Note: HAPPY PRIDE!!! Listened to so much Chappel Roan and Kehlani while writing this, hope you can tell.

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

You and Emily were enjoying yourselves a little too much. David had thrown a lovely party, complete with pasta, singer, and plenty of wine. You had been flirty all night, the drinks going straight to your head (and between your legs).

Emily was clearly getting riled up, shooting you glances and glares at every opportunity. As much as she wanted you, there was nothing she could do about it. The two of you hadn't come out to the team, not because they wouldn't support you, but because it was nice to have something that only belonged to the two of you.

However, Emily didn't share the same sentiment at the moment. She wanted to do nothing more than bend you over the elegant mahogany table and fuck you senseless.

The party started to wind down around 11, and everyone lounged on the leather seats in the living room. You listened to Rossi's stories from the early days of the BAU, Garcia's latest date, and JJ proudly showing off Henry's latest achievement.

You locked eyes with Emily, giving her a knowing smirk before standing up and stretching out your arms. "I'll be right back, just getting a drink."

Her eyes glinted with need, and you knew your plan had worked.

She waited a few seconds as so not to arouse suspicion before standing as well. "I've got to use the bathroom. Hotch, show JJ that video of Jack scoring his goal."

Emily successfully distracted everyone as she made her way upstairs. As soon as she saw you, she pulled you into the nearest bathroom and locked the door.

"What the hell was that?"

You shrugged innocently, denying anything as she visibly seethe. Before you could egg her on any more, she pushed you back into the sink and kissed you harshly.

Grinning, you kissed her back, raising your hands up to cup her cheeks and pull her closer. She broke the kiss and shook her head, grabbing your wrists and pinning them against the edge of the sink.

"No. You're going to listen to me."

You nodded, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you as you kissed her again, albeit a little more cautiously.

She spent a few minutes lavishing your lips before moving on to your neck. Emily took in your sinful sounds as she worked bruises into your neck, looking up smugly.

You watched her with heavily lidded eyes, your focus on her dexterous fingers currently groping your breasts hungrily.

"Oh my God, Em-"

She shook her head, bringing her fingers up to your face and pressing her index and middle to your mouth. "Open."

Your jaw dropped slightly at her boldness, and she took full advantage of it. Her fingers slipped past your lips, pressing down on your tongue. You lapped at them, causing the tension between you to grow.

Finally, she caved. Emily gripped your hips and spun you around, bending you over the sink. Your cheek pressed against the mirror as she yanked your pants down, getting a good view of your panties before pulling them to your knees.

"If you wanted me, all you had to do was say so, baby."

Your thighs clenched at the sound of her sultry voice, and she knew she had you right where she wanted you. Her hand slipped against your waiting heat, relishing in the slickness she found there.

"You knew exactly what you were doing all night, didn't you?"

You nodded dumbly, too focused on the way her fingers were currently pressed against your clit.

"Em, please."

She smirked even more at your desperation, starting to draw agonizingly slow circles.

"Apologize."

You tilted your head back, taking in your needy expression and deciding it was best to do as she said.

"Sorry. 'M sorry."

She nodded satisfactorily, rewarding you with her middle finger slipping past your entrance. Immediately, you let out a moan, clenching tighter around her. Emily reveled in your noises, curling her finger to elicit more.

A particularly harsh thrust hit that spot just right, and you practically squealed. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, but she yanked it back.

"No, let them hear. I'm tired of hiding this."

Meeting her gaze in the mirror, you realized behind all the sexual frustration, it was more about having to hide who you both were. You nodded, squeezing her arm reassuringly.

"We can tell them after this."

Some of the tension left her expression, but she didn't forget what she was doing as her ring joined her middle. Your eyes nearly rolled back, the pressure in your lower belly starting to grow. "Em, I'm so close."

She nodded, bringing her thumb back to your clit as she kissed the back of your neck. "I've got you, baby."

You started to see stars, your vision waffling as you clenched around her fingers, moaning her name.

She helped you come down before pulling her fingers out and licking them clean. The sight had you eager for another round, but you knew there were conversations to be had.

She washed her hands as you used the bathroom, making sure you were alright before you opened the door.

Standing right outside was Spencer, his hand raised and ready to knock.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Um, I didn't realize it was occupied. I've only been here for a couple seconds. Take your time."

The two of you burst into laughter at his fumbled apology, waving him off and letting him head inside.

"See, it's not that hard coming out."

You rolled your eyes at her, holding her hand as you both made your way into the living room. Everyone looked up at you, clearly having heard Reid's awkward encounter.

She cleared her throat, holding up your entwined hands. "We're dating."

The rest of the group were in various states of shock and confusion, but to your relief, no one was upset. There was nothing but overwhelming acceptance in everyone's eyes as they all gave you their congratulations. Rossi raised his glass, and everyone else followed. "To our new lovebirds."

You raised an imaginary glass, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. "Actually, we've been together for about nine months."

Garcia let out a squeal, standing up and pulling you both into a suffocating hug. "I'm taking you two to the next pride!"

[viareblogsstuff]

i’m melting omg!

jack & ellie trying to make soup for a sick aaron🥺🫶 they’re like tossing around dry pasta noodles in a pot 😭😭🫶

- 🧶

sick day

WAIT you just gave me an idea so let me elaborate i hope that's okay 🫶🏻 cw; mentions of sickness, dad!aaron, fem!reader, fluff <3

Jack and Ellie were huddled underneath the shade of a tree, heads together and busying themselves away with something.

The window above the kitchen sink allowed clear visibility into the backyard, letting you keep an undeviating eye on them. It was a bright summer afternoon, all windows in the house were open, a cool breeze sweeping in. You could easily hear and observe the two of them, while also doting on your sick husband.

This morning, you awoke to a sweaty Aaron beside you; cowlicks and t-shirt drenched. He was sporting a sore throat along with his fever, as well as a lingering headache. Last night he had even returned home early, the fluorescent lights of the BAU not having mercy on his head.

"How's it going?" You peered your head into your bedroom, Aaron buried deep under the comforter. While it was quite warm outside, he had stated he was freezing.

A muffled, "Fine." came from beneath.

"Need anything?"

Another incoherent mumble in response.

After obtaining him more water (and making sure he drank some) you went forth with your day, cleaning up the kitchen's mess after lunch. As you did so, the screen door rolled open, slamming with a shut.

"Watch fingers." You advised, continuing to place dirty cups into the dishwasher. With the two of them coming in and out of the house so hastily, you were eager to prevent potential broken fingers.

In your peripheral they passed, rather slow for their usual nature. It raised your suspicions immediately, causing you to slow, before committing to follow. Especially when Ellie recalled the word dirt.

They ventured upstairs and into your bedroom. It was dimly lit; lights off and curtains pulled, the slight sheerness of the fabric allowing the sun to subtly brighten the room. Again the windows were agape - allowing fresh air to circulate through the room.

"Daddy." Ellie whispered, her face close enough to his whereas he could feel her breath on his face.

"Hm?"

"We made you soup."

Her words snapped him out of his feverish haze, both his eyes opening and heart melting in one go.

"You did?" Aaron gingerly sat up, using his elbows for leverage and leaning against his pillow. He purposely strained his voice; finding his soft, Dad tone and attempting to push past the hoarseness; sounding as normal as possible.

Jack produced a small bucket, one that usually remained within the sandbox. Instead it was filled with water, dirt, grass, miscellaneous leaves; anything the backyard could provide.

The contents took Aaron by surprise, stalling for a split second once in his grasp. Dumbfounded, but extremely touched.

"Do you like it?" Ellie asked, clambering onto the mattress besides him.

"I do." Aaron commented, offering her a smile. "It's... organic, that's for sure."

"Bunnies eat grass." Ellie explained, looking from the 'soup' to him. "'member when we found the baby bunnies? You said they eat grass to be healthy and strong. So this will help you not be sick."

Aaron's face softened more; the logic making complete sense in her little mind - why wouldn't it? He laughed gently, and naturally he didn't have the heart to tell her it was inedible. "Thank you sweetheart, that's real kind of you. Did you make up this recipe all by yourself?"

Ellie nodded, a thoroughly pleased expression on her face. "Jackers helped too. He put the water in from the hose and added the leaves."

"I didn't tell her you couldn't eat it," Jack quickly whispered to him, "she really wanted to give you something that could make you feel better."

Aaron offered him a look, an understanding between the two of them. "Well, it definitely is making me feel better. I can promise that."

"Really?" Ellie blinked up at him.

"Really. I had no idea I had such skilled chefs for kids." He coughed; his voice was slowly beginning to give out, the more he spoke.

"Like Grandpa Dave!"

Aaron laughed brightly, ignoring the burn in the back of his throat and the heaviness in his body. "Just like Grandpa Dave."

"Here," You pushed yourself off the doorframe, where you had been silently (and pleasantly) observing. Ellie had been a bit too close for too long, and you could tell Aaron was gradually fading.

You took the 'soup' from him, internally grateful all of it had stayed in the bucket despite traveling up a flight of stairs. "Why don't I take this. Daddy needs to get some rest, that'll help him feel better too."

"Peace and quiet."

"That's right, peace and quiet." You echoed Ellie as she hopped off the bed, touching her head gently to gesture her out. You flashed Aaron a smile as the three of you exited, one tugging onto his lips too as he drowsily eased back against his pillow.

[viareblogsstuff]

Keeping Up With The Camerons

- Leaked Footage -

Just the thumbnails (?? That what they’re called?) for the episodes of season 1 because it’s taking longer to write each episode then I thought 😭

Taglist: @viawritesstuff @aariahnaa @mymelodylvr @rafeinterlude @cerya

Any predictions? I’d like to answer them and see what you guys are thinking, may incorporate some if I like them ❤️🌹

I was hoping to get the first episode out by Friday but may be pushed back until possibly Monday? I’ll try my best! X

[viareblogsstuff]

threesome with kiara carrera & sarah cameron

 ⋅˚₊‧ 𓏵 ‧₊˚ ⋅.

sarah’s hand roaming over her body as the other grips the pillow behind her head as she cries and moans in to it. her thighs shake around your head as she grinds against your tongue. jumping slightly as you feel kiara come up behind you, hand caressing your ass as she rubs her strap against your clit. “you look so pretty like this. keep eating baby.”

the position has you free use to both women, not that your complaining. wiggling your hips impatient, as kie continues to tease you. rubbing her cock between your lips. she smacks your ass causing you to whimper, “wait.”sarah’s hand strokes your hair as your tongue lazily licks her pussy, wrapping your lips around her neglected clit. she palms her breasts, eyes rolling back as she presses her hand further in to the pillows. kie finally sinks her strap in to you. your groan sending vibrations against sarah that makes her twitch and buck her hips. you feel kie’s hand grip your hips, pulling you into her thrusts before her hand grips your hair. shoving your face into sarah’s cunt as she picks up the pace. you’re at their mercy. letting them use you however they want. gripping sarahs thighs tighter, you pull her impossibly closer. it’s hard to breathe but it’s worth it to hear her pretty moans. too pussy drunk to worry about anything else that isn’t the sounds coming from the women filling your senses. grunts and groans escaping kiara’s mouth as she pounds in to you. thrusting in to you harder, her hand reaching your cunt making you cry out. she circles your clit as your moans are muffled by sarah grinds roughly against your face -drool and her arousal coating your chin, dripping on to the bed. kie admires the scene in front of her. how pathetic and helpless you look. a smile gracing her lips as she slaps her fingers against your clit, seeing you jolt and shake. hearing muffled squeaks. locking eyes with sarah, who lets out a giggle before groaning as her back arches. you’re just a toy for them.