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jawxme · 8 months ago

Text

there's no one else around (you're touching yourself) (18+)

summary: By pure accident, you stumble across the home page of your manager's brother's cam site. But neither of them have to know, right?

title from: "Wet Dream" by Wet Leg

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: MDNI!!! male masturbation mention, what is technically sex work, camshow/cam work, afab reader genitalia, vaginal/clitoral masturbation, rabbit vibrator you're my best friend, pillow humping ummm, don't think there's anything else

side note: HI BEAR WITH ME I FEEL LIKE THIS IS SHORT BUT TRUST WE WILL GET BETTER WITH TIME

You should not be here. By here, you mean Lip's cam site.

You stumbled upon it completely on accident. It had been a long week, and you needed to blow off some steam, and your friend had suggested looking into cam sites for something more interpersonal than just porn. So it was safe to say you were surprised when, in the top twenty for the local area, Lip Gallagher was streaming.

You only know it's Lip from the triangle tattoo on his chest that you have not stopped thinking about since you saw it.

You should not be here. You should not be entertaining the idea of watching your coworker, your manager's brother. Your mouse is hovering over the video, the stream playing in the small display on the sites front page. But Fiona doesn't have to know, right?

That's what you keep repeating to yourself as you go through the process of making an account (of course Lip would set his page to accounts only, why wouldn't he, it's the best way to insure money is made.)

That doesn't stop you from feeling slightly embarrassed by it. Fiona doesn't need to know, Lip doesn't need to know, nobody needs to know.

You make your user something meaningless, something he wouldn't be able to tie back to you. Once you get the minimum access... It's enough to make you blush, mouth going dry as you take everything in.

In most of the thumbnails, you can only see Lip's chest. In a few of them... Well, in a few of them, you can see more than just his chest. So much more.

There's a few items on his site that require a subscription fee and... Well, you're not ready to commit to that just yet. The streams will do, for now.

You're quick to roll out of bed and grab your headphones from your shelf, wasting no time connecting them to your laptop and putting them on. Once you're sure they're connected, you quickly click on the stream, not leaving any room for hesitation as the video loads.

It is. A lot.

The stream only takes a few seconds to load up before it's playing on your screen. You move by muscle memory, putting the video in theatre mode.

You haven't even looked at the live chat as it blows by, little pings and animations dancing on the screen. You're not taking in any of it.

All you can see is Lip. All you can focus on. The only coherent thought in your mind is him.

"Fuckin' hell-" Lip grunts in your headphones. Your eyes are wide as you take in everything you can. You can't even be bothered to get yourself off, you feel like you'll miss something if you tear your attention away from the screen.

You've chosen an interesting stream to start with.

Lip's body is framed perfectly. It's different from the other thumbnails, more of him being shown. His arm is extended, bracing himself on what you can only assume is the wall beside his setup. His chair is positioned sideways, a pillow folded in half and positioned snuggly in the angle of the chair. The leg closest to the camera is extended, giving him a firm footing as his other rests on the seat of the chair.

If you hadn't already taken your jeans off, you'd be fighting with yourself to get them off as quickly as possible.

You're glad that past you had the forethought to place your vibrator beside you, and all you needed to do now was take off your own underwear. Lip's home page was enough pre-game that you don't have to play with yourself too much to slip in the silicone toy.

You have to hit a few buttons before you land on the setting you want. Timing the grinding of your hips with Lip's movements and the rhythmic vibrations of the rabbit is tricky, but you manage to match the pace as best as you can.

Lip repeats this pattern of thrusting into the pillow, punctuating each one with a firm grind against it and then stilling before starting up again. The motions are enough to drive you mad, letting yourself shut your eyes and pretend the toy inside of you is actually Lip as he groans in your ear about how tight you are.

He encourages you and the audience to edge yourselves for as long as you can. To keep yourself dangling on that edge of release until he tells you to let go.

He gives you the clear right before he lets himself come. He doesn't have to tell you twice as you grind against the rabbit buzzing against your clit. The feeling is damn near overwhelming as you gasp softly, listening to the way Lip grunts out praise and curses.

You slam your laptop shut before you can watch him end the stream. Your chest rises and falls heavily, staring up at your ceiling as your brain registers what you just did.

Fuck.

The pit in your stomach when you see Lip walk in makes you feel sick. You knew he was working today. You're not sure why it jars you so much, but the overwhelming anxiety that seeing him gives you... It's enough to make you regret seeing his cam page.

He spends enough time talking with Sierra on her way back to the bar counter that you can cash out your register. Despite your rush to go, you get everything settled nicely in the pouch you need to take back to Fiona.

When you look up, your stomach drops when you meet Lip's gaze. You're quick to turn around and flee the front counter before he can leave Sierra's side.

"Fi am I good to go?" You walk into her cramped office like a whirlwind. You're already untying your small apron from around your waist and folding it in your hands.

"Yeah. Everything okay?" Fiona looks at you, brown eyes wide and searching your own. You nod quickly, tucking your apron in your waistband and placing your till money on her desk.

"Peachy," you tell her, placing your hand on her shoulder and giving a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Fi."

Fiona gives your hand a quick size before you're slipping out of the office, stopping at the locker that stores your and Sierra's belongings. You're quick to swing the door open and grabbing your bag from the top shelf. The way you jam your apron into your bag is a little more aggressive than you usually handle things but you are determined to leave before you can run into Lip. Once you close your bag and slip it over your shoulder, slamming the locker door shut after you and turning quickly on your heel.

You're a bit too in your own head, not paying any attention as you head out of the small employee area, not bothering to check if someone else is coming back there.

That is your mistake, colliding hard with someone else. You're hands act on their own, grabbing at the shirt of the person you ran into to keep yourself balanced.

"Whoa-" Goddamnit.

You shut your eyes and momentary curse whatever cosmic being has it out for you today. Once you know you're steady you quickly let go of his shirt, bringing your hands close to your chest and step back a little.

It would be your luck that on your way out the door you would run into Lip Gallagher. The very person you're trying to avoid facing.

"You okay?" Lip's voice is caring as he speaks softly.

"Fine," you say, looking for a way to slip past him. He takes up most of the walkway, and there's that sour taste in your mouth. Your brain is sending mixed messages, guilt, and disgust at yourself, but your cheeks feel flush with Lip so close to you. Maybe it's his own body heat...

"Y'sure?" Lip asks you gently. "Y'look all..."

The gesture Lip makes is confusing, simply just motioning at your whole body, and it makes you want to disappear into the shitty paint job on the wall.

"Great. Just need to get home, so uh.." You gesture behind him, hoping he'll get the idea so you can brush past him.

"Oh shit. Sorry. I'll see ya tomorrow then?" Like he's sad he missed you on the shift. The sentiment makes your stomach flip, and you have to fight it down as he slips by you, his chest brushing your shoulder so you have to turn if you want to keep looking at him.

"Uh, yeah.. Pulling a double, so I'll be here all day." You're not at all keen on the idea, but one of the girls had practically begged on her knees for you to cover her shift.

Lip huffs and shakes his head with a disbelieving grin. "I'll see ya then.."

He does that nervous habit he has, scratching gently at his nose with his thumb as you give you a small wave as you leave. The interaction is only... Slightly bizarre, if you put it mildly.

Fiona slips out of her office, leaning against the doorframe as Lip walks over to the lockers.

"They seem... Off, to you?" Fiona asks Lip as he grabs his rubber apron. He spares Fiona a glance before he brings the apron over his head.

"Off?" Lip asks.

"I don't know... Like skittish? Flighty?" Fiona tries to explain the feeling that's nagging at her brain. You left in such a rush and left her no room for explanation when you brushed her off.

"A little," Lip shrugs. "Just seems like they wanted t'get out of here before gettin' dragged into more work."

Fiona hums softly, crossing her arms over her chest. Lip nods before shutting the locker softly before leaving the backroom, leaving Fiona to mull over your interaction.

The rest of your week follows the same cycle.

Going to Lip's site, getting off while he streams himself getting off, and then trying not to face him the next day.

The only one who really seems to notice your quick get aways everytime Lip clocks in is Fiona. The not knowing makes her fidgety and agitated, becoming noticeably short with people until eventually she snaps.

"Did you do something to piss them off?" Fiona grills Lip as they watch you bid Sierra goodbye before slipping out the door to the restaurant.

The look he gives his sister is offended. Offended that she would suggest he had done something wrong when he barely had the chance to talk to you this last week. It did strike him as peculiar that you managed to slip away whenever he clocked in or found a way to switch shifts so you two no longer worked similar shifts anymore.

"Why do you assume I did something wrong?" He asks. Despite his defensive position, he wracked his brain for any possible interaction that could have caused your change in behavior.

"Because they only ever leave like a bat out of hell when you come in!" Fiona exclaims.

"Well, maybe you should ask 'em, since I didn't do anything wrong." Lip says, glancing around the restaurant as he stacks dishes in his bin.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Fiona turns to him, lightly smacking his arm with the till pouch in her hands.

"What?" Lip jerks his arm away from her, as if it actually hurt. He's just merely offended by the action.

"I have asked 'em! They just say their fine and leave as quick as they can!" She sets the pouch on the counter beside the register and rests her chin on her hands.

"Maybe you did something." Lip shrugs, mouth quirking up to squish his cheek up so his eye squints slightly. Fiona turns to glare at him, but he's not looking at her. Busy doing his job.

"What would I have done that would piss them off?" Lip comes up to settle beside her, setting his bin down as if he really needs to give it some thought.

"Well, let's see-" Fiona cuts him off with a hard smack to the chest.

"Let's see nothing, asshole.." Fiona mutters, leaning against the counter as she stands up straight and watches the people walking by.

"It's gotta be somethin'." Lip shakes his head slightly, picking his bin back up.

"I'm gonna figure it out." Fiona promises her brother.

"Yeah, you do that. I'll uh, I'll be in the back doin' dishes while you try figurin' it out." Lip claps Fiona on the shoulder, gives her a quick squeeze, and heads for back of house.

Fiona huffs at him before glancing back at the sidewalk. She's going to figure it out, whether it's a big secret or not.

Fiona will find out.

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jawxme · 11 months ago

Note

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.

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