spellbinding10

[spellbinding10]

packing it up. ( chef luca )

i'd love to complete you, hope that you get all that you ask for. cause i swear that i wasn't looking for much but that's when you happened. (based on the gracie abrams song) chef luca meeting his match in the quiet little pastry chef (carmy's best friend) at the bear.

pairing: chef luca x pastry chef fem! reader (no use of yn)

themes: fluff, slight angst, more fluff (very soft and slow paced and just cute like luca) mentions of insecurity and not feeling enough.

word count: idk but its fucking wham

luca doesn't know if you yourself would ever class the two of you as friends. he acts with his heart who tells him that you're the love of his life, and also with his mind that whispers to him that you've barely spoken a word to him outside of the restaurant even though its been a few months since he's taken a liking to chicago.

you're one of carmen berzatto's friends which surprised him at first. the renowned chef matched his chaos with his brazen choice of friends that all shared familiar quirks. however you preferred to linger in the back. you didn't laugh too loudly or obnoxiously, you didn't spin jokes to grab attention even at the expense of others. what surprised him the most was that you hadn't cursed infront of him once- working in fast paced places with egos running the expo, it was normal to hear a violet stream of words but around you, everything was softer- gentler, as if the air and the world bent and moulded around your being.

he remembers the first time he saw you. carmen had asked if he could step in as a pastry chef to help the shortfall. when he walked into the kitchen of the bear expecting to find carmy he found you: staring up at him with an inquisitive tilt. there was no snarky sharpness, no edge sizing him up, just rounded curious eyes that stumped him for a moment. and for the first time in a long while, it was refreshing to be looked at nothing more than a human.

"and who are you?" you asked slowly, not because it was calculated or measured but because that was how the natural drawl of your words landed. he detected a hint of a northern accent that whispers a little too like home warming his blood. a smile tugged at his lips- one that he failed miserably to rein in in fear of coming on too strong but you just made it so easy for him to just exist.

"luca," another grin and a boyish blush at the fact that you did not know who he was or his entire culinary achievements and experience by heart. though for a second, he wished you did. maybe it would've impressed you somehow, given him a stepping stone into your good graces. but by the slow nod and dimpled smile flashed his way, god he would have never needed it. his brain photographed that very moment the earth bent to your will and hangs it portrait in his head in the areas where thoughts of you have stretched and taken up free residence.

he got to know you in the small moments. at four am to the sounds of a soft tune of billy joel hummed through the chill kitchen air that then drowned out to the boil of the kettle for your favourite peppermint tea. "for the morning breath" you once joked and it still brings a grin to his lips anytime he sees it.

at the sound of lindt wrappers crunching in their foil where you've cleaned out the entire box of white chocolate in days where you need the extra comfort. he now keeps a spare box for emergencies in the top cupboard for the tough times you'll need it.

at the disapproving sigh you sent his way at the remenants of flour spilled when luca had rushed to hit a timer, he learns that you hate mess more than you hate carmy's mother- who he learns in return also hates you back. its also why he spent an extra hour cleaning his station sparkling clean whilst prying into carmen about your past and friendship.

you told him little bits yourself anyways, you grew up with carmy and both left to pursue culinary education outside the prison walls of chicago- you trained in edinburgh, hopped from establishment to establishment within the UK, earning your first michelin at 25. and somehow, by the grace of carmen fucking berzatto you found yourself back in chicago- a place you swore you'd never return.

"i feel shitty, i brought her back here to this bag of ass," carmen once told him that night as luca scrubbed till his fingers bled with soap suds. "she's got a fuckin' star twice! the fuck she need this place for, i tried to fire her but the smartass brought up some employment law or somethin' i don't know," he chuckles. and at the brazen words spoken, the smile of fondness from carmy is hard to miss. its all luca needs to know that you're someone who holds such high value to carmen's life and for someone who's stayed that long, loyalty runs deep.

"why you askin?" carmy cuts him off and luca doesn't show his hesitation, he just continues cleaning his station. "matter of fact, why the fuck you still here? go home, chef. tomorrow starts in a two hours we need you."

tomorrow comes with a satisfied hum as your fingers run along the sparkling counter "you did such a good job" you smile. and luca's heart stutters violently, he wonders what those fingers would look like running through his hair, at his jaw and down his chest. what those words would feel like under him in the middle of the night in the embrace of your home.

"luca?" you break free his train of you, smile wobbling at the edges. "you okay?"

"yeah," he clears his throat, "yes, chef" he confirms, remembering the sanctity of the kitchen and his responsibility here, to you. and you nod, not entirely believing him but not exactly prying further. instead you place a hand on your heart to tell him i'm here if you need the time.

and you carry on. you both direct, you fire, you shout for hands multiple times and when you don't get the help you need, it's the first time he sees you lose control.

"christ," you mumble in agitation, "walking now," and you wipe your hands quickly, taking the dish out the door.

the entire back of house halts at your disappearing frame. it's absolute silence as they watch your back, the lingering looks from carmy and syd- the hostile exchange shared between stares and unspoken words until multiple beepers go off like sirens in the distance. the chaos of the kitchen returns and in the midst of shouts at the expo, luca still watches the door waiting for your return.

it takes a moment longer than needed but you present at the table, you walk the elder woman through her dish, laughing as she counteracts your storytelling with her own memories before bidding her a goodnight and heading back to your station. your heart races slightly as you enter the doors again with a violent push and the kitchen comes to a standstill once more.

"chef?" carmen is the first to break the silence. "need a moment?" he carefully treads and the familiarity in his stance gives luca the impression that this is not the first time you've left the kitchen at your own orders nor will it be the last time.

"no, chef" you level, "what i need is hands when i ask for them," you glance across all the staff and make your way back to your table. the hustle and bustle of culinary masterpieces continue but in the midst of the chaos, luca can hear the tiny exhale that escapes from your lips.

"chef?" he quietly asks, trying to find your gaze and when its painstakingly obvious you're avoiding eye contact with him, he pushes just a little further. "peppermint," he tries your nickname and you glance up, nothing in your expression. there's a delicate layer of softness still in your chocolate eyes that alleviates some worry from him and you nod.

"thanks, chef," you whisper and he nods, you both continue in silence, working in that familiar routine again finding your balance.

luca decides that no matter the storm or chaos, he'll always find you to bring you back to the surface.

the night ends with a silent success. they had overbooked but call it a champagne problem, guests were satisfied, the kitchen was highly complimented and everyone was exhausted. signs of a well oiled machine at work.

luca catches your frame just in time to see you leaving. your tote is arched onto your shoulder as a thick knitted scarf is knotted around your neck under the giant black puffer zipped up. he watches at you place a hand on carmy's shoulder in comfort before he places a kiss to your hair when he wraps you in a hug. its rare to see affection from carmen but luca calm his jealousy with a objective analysis instead; there's something about the two of you that he can't pinpoint as lovers- maybe long lost siblings is the furthest he'd go.

because if luca was your lover, he'd take the train (even if it stretched an extra half hour to his commute) with his hand firmly gripped on your waist not only for protection and to have you in sight but because there's nowhere on earth he'd want you to be unless glued at his side. he'd have your tote perched on his shoulder baring the weight of your world and free hand in yours, holding both your hearts close in every step. he'd walk you to the door, leaning into your embrace and kiss you right on the lips for the world to see. there would be nothing friendly in the fire he's willing to burn, he'd scoop you in his arms to take you inside.

he'd do it every single day of his life if you'd want him to, if you gave him any inclination that you'd want him too.

but instead he takes the train with you, sat with an inch gap of respectability and boundaries. he walks by your side, hands swinging itching under the cold to hold yours but keeps them at bay. he walks you to your door, shoulder bumps yours with a soft nudge goodbye and doesn't leave until he's seen you click the door shut and at the sound of the locks turning too.

he turns with a heavy heart and sigh as he makes his own way home, leaving his feelings in the chill of the chicago air where no one but him knows how he feels about you.

carmen berzatto absolutely knows how luca feels about you.

its in the way luca sat on his stool at your station, brows furrowed chasing the clock and then the door where he expects to see your frame. its in the glare where your name isn't clocked in and focuses its way onto carmen when he delivers the debrief for the morning.

"last night, we had an unexpected guest," carmen starts and the room stills. he throws a newspaper article down onto the table for all the see, pointing at their establishment printed on the crisp white paper. "she came in unrecognised, unattended, waited for a table and her food was almost delayed," the word almost is delivered with a slight twitch of his eye. "we were so focused on who might the critic delivering us a star might be that we almost missed one just equally as important," carmen stresses the words with pointed agitation.

"we need to be better chefs, every person who comes through that door gets royal treatment or nothing. do not make it nothing," his voice is so crisp and lethal that even richie himself cannot find a joke to lighten the air. "luckily, one of our chefs noticed something suspicious and had her meal out without delay, saving us from another embarassment. not that we have a shortage of those," he bitterly chuckles. sydney shoots him a pointed glare and cuts him off.

"chefs we work together," she softly reprimands. where carmen is burning fire, sydney is all about calming waters for the team, "this does not work unless we all do. let's listen, let's grow, let's make this thing happen. understood?"

a chorus of "yes chef" litters the air but luca can't find it in him to focus not when he has no idea where you are. he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check for the millionth time but still no sign of you; no return of his thousand voicemails.

carmen and sydney are already on their way to the office when he stops them abruptly.

"yes chef?" carmen asks, brows raised at lucas large frame blocking the door.

"she's not in, hasn't been in since last night, uh," he stumbles, "where is she?" sydney elbows carmen who fights back the lazy smirk working its way up on to his features.

"day off," he shrugs and makes his way into the office.

"day off?" his echo sounds outrageous, you've never taken a day off in the months he's worked here. its like clockwork, when you start, how you work, when you leave, when you work with him. its never been nothing but routine and luca cannot wrap his head around the missing puzzle piece.

"is there a problem?" carmen asks and syd shifts her gaze between the two of them, trying to detect any underlying feelings.

"no, chef." luca returns and makes his way back to his station. its cold, practised and rehearsed how he lives today, reminding him for the first time in a long time of how lonely working in a restaurant can feel. he hasn't felt this way before he moved to copanhagen to escape the stitled atmosphere of his former restaurant. he glances over and is met with your absence again, the clean slate of your station. eerily untouched, not like its been lived in before in your presence. it unsettles him, when he looks over youre not there as his equal; he's struggling alone and he's lonely.

he finishes up his shift with exhaustion heavily laced through his bones, his jokes falling flat with marcus and sydney and not bothering to wish carmen goodnight. he grabs his things swiftly and stares back at your station longingly as if he'd look hard enough, you'd somehow just appear and make it right for him again.

it's two am and he takes the long way home, the nerves and sheer dire need to see you keeping him awake whilst the city of chicago sleeps before him.

the knock that lands at your door is tentative. it almost doesn't land but it does and you pause the music playing through your apartment. the sweet sounds of "cherry wine" by hozier stopping gently in the breeze as you check the time.

it's late, you think. too late for anyone you know to be here. with a butter knife in your hand you reach for the door slowly and pull back just an inch. crystal blue eyes pierce your soul and you immediately pull back the door to its full length.

"peppermint," he breathes before the door is even properly open, the second he's gotten a glimpse. like he's sucking your being in, memorising the way you exist as if you've been lovers deserted by war.

you don't answer at once, instead you blink. you stand there for what feels like forever as he takes you in. your curly hair is throws up into a high bun at the top of your head, static frizz curling at the edges as a few tendrils escape the makeshift mess. sleep is etched into your features and he guesses that you've probably spent today napping and making up the sleep you've missed from the last decade of your life. you're dressed in a matching plaid set of pyjamas, the buttons opening with the wind working its way between you and he is hit with the flash of your skin peeking out.

he's never seen this version of you, so relaxed yet so poised, so perfectly you. like being out of the pressure of the restaurant has lifted a thousand kilos off your body. you're glowing, he marvels just when he thought you couldn't possibly get any more beautiful.

"luca," its not exactly a question or a greeting, you're unsure of what's going on entirely and-

"you didn't show today," he cuts off your train of thought and nods to himself, a small smile of relief playing on his lips knowing that you're okay and you're safe.

"i had the day off," you cross your arms and lean on the wooden door frame, staring back at him. in this light, his blonde hair looks a shade too brown, his skin casts shadows of the night under his ocean eyes. "did you want to come in?" you ask, small.

for a moment he thinks he should be smarter than this. it's late and he's never even been inside your apartment before and the feelings he feels that are too large and too big for his body do not need to explode right now when you look far too peaceful in your home. he's also got the early shift and needs to be back at the bear in the next few hours, only this time he hopes you'll be there with him. and yet, he finds himself waiting, lingering with a soft and gentle

"please" its like he's scared to let it sit there to long, and you nod with a smile, waiting to the side till he's standing in your small walkway and shut the door with a thud, locking it twice.

the smell of vanilla hits him instantly at first, a deep velvet layer entangled with the sweetness of strawberries. they dance along with notes of sugar and butter and it just feels so right, he thinks.

wordlessly you help him shrug out of his outer layers, hanging them on your rail as he stands there suddenly shy, aware of all your space he is currently taken up. you don't say anything just motion for him to follow you through the dimly lit apartment into your kitchen- all the lights are off save for a small lamp at your workstation. sometime between when he arrived and to now standing at your kitchen worktop, the gentle rush of music has started again. guitar chords strumming along to the beat of his heart as he stands by your side.

you go back to placing the strawberries so delicately on top of the shortcake pastry on a layer of fresh cream and luca salivates at the sight of it. its such a basic dish compared to what the two of you create in the kitchen of the bear that it softens something in him to see something so simple yet divine.

"strawberry shortcake?" he asks from behind you, he's so close in proximity that you can feel his warm breath pinched from his british accent tickle your neck. his hands come to hold the edges of the surface and they gently hold you in an embrace you can escape easily. he's there in your space but still waiting for your indication. you turn slightly to face him and upclose he can see the specks of flour that dust your cheekbones; a layer of snow over the natural rosy blush tinting your face.

you pick up a small piece that you weren't going to plate and reach it up to his lips, nodding in encouragement. he savours the taste of it, flavour and sweetness exploding on his tongue. he's messy with it and his tongue accidentally swipes alongside the finger you feed him with and you pull away slowly, acting as if the touch hasn't burned something new inside of you.

"i make it every year for my birthday," you whisper and recognition hits him fast. he pulls apart slowly in disbelief and a million curses flow through his mind.

"i didn't know it was your birthday," he admits bashfully, staring at his feet unsure. you smile at him softly.

"it's okay, lucky," the nickname slips out so easily and he melts, "no one really does, except carm of course. i'd rather spend today at the bear but he insists on taking the day off," you share, carefully shifting your focus back to your dessert.

"why would you spend it at the bear?" his brows wrinkle in confusion. i mean sure he loves the place and he loves carm but the bear? on your birthday?

"i don't really have anyone," you feel so small and shy right now but something about luca wants you to bare your whole soul out for him to see, "the bear is where all my family is," and you swallow the lump of vulnerability settling in the air.

luca inhales and takes a step closer to you, he picks up the knife from your grasp and plants it down on the desktop surface before holding your hands in his and god they feel so warm and so damn soft.

"i uh," he starts, meeting your gaze and continuing seeing your nods of encouragement. "i'd like to be there for you if you'd let me."

your smile widens and in the soft light of your kitchen you lean your head onto his chest. he holds you in his big arms, swaying the two of you back and forth as the hums of hozier fill the apartment air. it feels like heaven, such peace that luca's sure he hasn't felt this way about anyone before and it feels like a weighted blanket covering his soul.

"can i ask you something?"

"anything," you breathe and look up to him, its a strain on your neck but you manage.

"how did you know about the critic yesterday?"

"oh," you shove your head into his chest with a groan and he's confused, he chuckles at the force you've hit him with and places his fingers under your chin to bring you back to his planet. "she's an old mentor back from scotland, i thought i'd escape her but here she is haunting me all over," you mumble. "i couldn't possibly give her something else to lecture me about, god knows ive heard years of it." and luca laughs, he understands completely more than anyone what it means to do your best and still be knocked down. living on a scale that only gets larger and each movement doesn't feel as big as it does in your head.

"well angry old ladies aside, you really saved our ass, she was very nice about you," he whispers into your hair.

"really?" your voice is tiny and he softens, wrapping his fingers around some of your free tendrils, tugging on them slowly.

"yes really," he swears and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"i feel like i've been in this business long enough to stop looking for validation but sometimes oh god it gets me luca, it makes me lose control it makes me nasty like ive been lifted from the ground and god," you sputter with a shiver, "i hate being that way."

"i understand," he softly shares, "and sometimes i feel like i'll never outrun that young boy who was never enough in those big scary kitchens. its mainly why i came to help out carm, change of scenery, change of boss, change of everything."

"i thought the same but it wasn't carm or the bear or being around family again after so long," you lean up on your tip toes, lips inches away from each other. "it was you, who kept me grounded, kept me smiling, kept me from feeling like the world was spinning too far for me to keep up-"

he lets you finish barely before pressing his lips into yours and its soft, its slow, its deep, its filled with the months of longing stares and passion. its filled with the capacity of love he knows he can give and you will return tenfold. its filled with chaos in the kitchen and of these moments in the quiet of the night.

he can taste the strawberry on your tongue and groans against you before you break apart. there's a rosy dust coating your cheeks and tinting the tips of your ears.

"wow," you squeak and his chest rumbles in loud laughter, shaking you in the vibrations of his embrace. "stay the night?" you ask, leaning up to him again.

"always," he promises.

note: if you made it this far ugh i wish i included more of his tats, next time fo sho. hope you liked this, let me know! first time writing for chef luca ahh how exciting i hope i did him justice <3

[spellbinding10]

he tells me he's gentle when he wants to be (18+)

summary: Carmy's first time giving head is... interrupted....

title from: "touch tank" by quinnie

word count: 1.4k

content warnings: smut MDNI!!!! afab reader genitalia, CLAIRE SORRY FOLKS (just briefly mentioned and implied conversation), implied blowjob, pussy eating, voyeurism (??? unknowingly cause Claire's not aware but on the phone with reader during)

side note: don't like it that much and it's a bit short but !!!!! here's another interlude friends! thank you to olive again

series masterlist!

Carmy has the day off, surprisingly.

You've checked with him a half-dozen times that he doesn't need to rush off to the restaurant. To which he assured you every time that no, he didn't need to. The staff forced Carmy out of the kitchen once a month, making him take a vacation day after June. A sound decision made by Sydney, Richie, and Sugar.

Being one of the few times you and Carmy share an off day, you told Claire your friends had planned a sleepover at some hotel for the night. However, in your rush to get a bag ready and get over to Carmy's, it had slipped your mind Claire could check on you. Could see you at Carmy's place...

Your stomach twists at the realization, quickly cutting off your location a few stoplights away from Carmy's apartment. You hoped the area was general enough she wouldn't recognize the neighborhood.

Those worries leave your mind when Carmy tugs you into the apartment, when he kisses you like he can't get enough of you.

Carmy is a vision above you. The flush from his face has made it's way down his chest while he pants to catch his breath. As you slow down your movements, teasing out the last of his release, you start to pull away.

He hisses quietly as you flick your tongue over his slit before you part. Carmy watches as you gaze up him. Watches as you pause. Watches as you slowly open your mouth and show him your tongue.

Carmy grabs at you before you can shut your mouth, dragging you off your knees. You make a sound when he kisses you, open-mouthed and slow.

"You're so gross..." You mutter against his lips, huffing quietly.

Carmy groans into your mouth, tugging you on top of him. He keeps your mouth open with a firm grip, holding you close as he tastes you. It's messy as he trades his spit for the cum in your mouth. He rocks up into you, using his free hand to guide your hips against his.

You make a sound of surprise when Carmy flips you over, kissing you into the mattress. He moves you easily, lifting you further up the bed until you're laying against the pillows. You groan softly as he paws at your chest, groping at the flesh with calloused hands until they trail down south with his kisses.

Carmy presses his teeth to your skin, leaving soft nips along your stomach and chest. Your hands find their way to Carmy's face, turning him upwards so he can look at you.

"What're you doin'?" You ask him, brow furrowed. "You don't have to-"

"I want to.." Carmy insists, placing a kiss to your waistband. "Y'trust me, right?"

And fuck, when he puts it like that? Paired with the way he's looking up at you?

You fold easily, nodding at him. Carmy gives you a quick smile before kissing your stomach again.

You let Carmy slide off your underwear, planting kisses along your legs as he goes and trailing them back up when he's done.

To say Carmy is good with his mouth would be an understatement. He starts shy, pressing tentative kisses from your hole up to your clit. Carmy wraps his lips around your mound, sucking gently until your back arches off the bed. The feeling of his tongue tracing small circles over your clit makes you choke on a moan, hand flying to his curls to ground yourself.

Unfortunately, his tongue isn't enough to drown out the beginning of Love Spit Love's "How Soon Is Now?" and how it makes your stomach plummet, recognizing the ringtone instantly. It's enough to make you remember where you are, who you're with, who's calling you.

"Fuck- fuck-" You push yourself up on your elbows, scrambling for your phone. Carmy looks up as he groans against your core. Your movements make your thighs tighten around his head, stretching for your phone on the nightstand.

He hadn't registered the song playing in the room until now. It moves with your phone, cut short when you swipe and bring it to your ear.

"Hello?" You say breathlessly, glancing down at Carmy before you lay back. "Are you okay?"

Carmy frowns, pulling back from your cunt as you listen to the other line.

"No, yeah," you clear your throat. "I didn't know that, I'm sorry."

Carmy's mouth twitches as he picks up on the voice on the other line. He glances back down at your cunt, covered in a mix of his spit and your arousal. He looks up at you again before he makes a decision, leaning back in to lick at your entrance.

You inhale sharply, looking down at Carmy. "No, I mean, I'm fine. Grease just jumped out of the pan."

Carmy can't help but smirk before focusing again. He drags his tongue up from your hole to press flat against your clit, tracing slow circles around it. Your hand finds it's way to Carmy's curls, holding tight as his tongue retreats and he wraps his lips around the bud.

"Shit-" You cut yourself off quickly, shutting your eyes. You tug at Carmy's hair, hoping he'll back off a little, but instead, he groans against you as he laps at your entrance again.

"No, sorry, it's just - it's kind of hard cooking with one hand... I can't... Because I won't be able to hear you over Mari's music." You have to bite your lower lip when Carmy starts rubbing tight circles with his thumb. "I- Uh- Maybe? I don't know what the girls have planned... Yeah, I'll look at it... Okay, bye."

You hang up on Claire quickly, throwing your phone above you on the bed before looking down at Carmy.

"You're such a fucking asshole- Shit-" You groan, head falling back against the bed. Now that you're off the phone, Carmy's relentless, using what he's learned against you. His hands slip to the insides of your thighs, pushing them onto the mattress.

Carmy alternates between sucking at your clit and tracing soft circles against it with his tongue. He keeps enough of a rhythm that you're able to rock your hips in time with it, crying out when the band in your stomach snaps. Carmy doesn't part from you as your climax crashes through you. Instead, he grabs at your hips, keeping you close as they buck into his mouth. He keeps your hips extended in the air for a moment before they fall back on the mattress, hands keeping them flat as you keen out.

His ministrations continue even when your body stops shaking and your thighs go lax. You cry out at the overstimulation, back arching harshly as you press your hips into the mattress.

He's quick to follow when your hips jerk back, grabbing the back of your thigh when it lurches up towards your chest. A whine tears out of your throat as he reattaches his mouth to your clit, sucking with his tongue as you writhe. You groan as your thighs clamp around his head again, tugging at his hair as he pulls another orgasm from you.

Carmy's hands are rough against your hips, holding you impossibly close as he laps at your core. You squeal gently when his tongue brushes up against your clit, hips bucking into his mouth. You choke on a whine when he sucks harshly at the bud, pushing gently against his forehead until he gets the hint.

You're breathing heavily by the time Carmy parts from you, resting his cheek against your thigh as he catches his breath. He starts pressing kisses to your skin, mixing a few soft bites between them. Carmy presses a soft kiss to your clit, pulling a delayed whine from you, pushing him away again. He huffs before he backs away, pushing himself up on the bed. He leans towards you slowly, giving you the opportunity to back out. Instead, you dive towards his mouth, brining a hand to rest against his cheek.

"Really fuckin' good at that.." You mutter against his lips, groaning when you taste yourself on him. He grins, giving you a second kiss before he parts from you and lays back against a pillow.

You can see it in his eyes. See the hunger that's still there.

"Carmen..." You sigh, turning away from him. He grumbles behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you back against him.

"You're insatiable..." You complain, leaning back as he kisses your neck.

"You like it..." He mutters into your skin.

He's not wrong.

[spellbinding10]

Carmen Berzatto X F!Reader: Baby Fever Pt 1

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, penetration (p in v), fingering, dirty talk, cursing, family trauma (very generic), soft Carmy, baby fever, talks of pregnancy, kissing, no use of y/n, fluff, takes place in season 4 but no major spoilers.

Word count: 2.5 K

Part 2

Carmen didn’t think about being a dad. He never had before. His father hadn’t been present, and his mother was... well, the way that she was. His parents hadn’t exactly done a stellar job at parenting, so becoming one himself had never been part of the plan.

Actually, Carmen hadn’t really thought about much beyond the restaurant. Beyond being the best, pushing himself harder, being better than he already was. But lately, things had started to shift. He was trying. Trying to be present. Trying to be less… Carmen. And suddenly, his life didn’t just revolve around the kitchen, or cooking, or the constant gnawing anxiety that never really went away.

You had been the first step into that.

You and Carmen had gone through a rough patch but somehow, you figured it out. You weren’t labeled “girlfriend” because Carmy was terrible with labels, terrible with words in general, but you were something. Something real. Someone special.

So no, Carmen had never thought about becoming a dad. But then Sugar brought Sophie in, and everything changed. Everyone had been enthralled by the baby with her big eyes, little fists, soft gurgling noises. It was weird seeing that kind of peace in a place like this.

He hadn’t really looked at her. Not until he walked into the office to talk to Sugar and saw you there, holding Sophie. Your eyes were closed. Arms wrapped around the baby like you’d done it a thousand times. Your body bounced gently, swaying side to side. You were humming something under your breath. You were trying to get her to sleep, but she was still wide awake.

You didn’t notice him. Didn’t see him standing in the doorway, frozen.

Didn’t see the way his chest tightened or the way his thoughts scrambled trying to make sense of the feeling creeping up his spine. And then Sophie looked at him. Just looked. Big eyes, tiny grin. No reason for it. Just... a baby being a baby.

But something inside Carmen shifted.

He left before you could see him. Before you could ask what that look on his face meant. Because he didn’t know. Not really.

But during the whole service that night, while orders were flying and Richie was yelling and Sydney was trying not to lose it, his mind kept flashing back. To you. Holding that baby. Looking like you were meant to.

After service, he didn’t go straight home. Just stood outside the back door, apron still on, watching the city breathe around him. He lit a cigarette and didn’t even smoke it. He’d almost placed it to his mouth because the gum wasn’t managing to rid him of the desire, but then he’d remembered how happy you’d been when he told you he quit. He threw it on the ground and stomped it out.

Then he just stood, thinking. Replaying that moment in the office over and over.

It was late. You were probably sleeping peacefully in bed. He should go home. Should sleep so that he would be rested for tomorrow. He needed to bring his A-game.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He needed to see you. Needed to at least hold you in his arms. Needed to know if that feeling would still be there when you opened the door.

As soon as you opened the door, he felt bad. It was clear from your eyes that you’d been asleep. It was clear from your face that the knocks—yes, it had taken multiple ones—had startled you. Your body was tense as you peeked out the door, but then you saw his face, and you relaxed a bit.

“Carmy?” you whispered.

Your voice was all groggy, the way it often was when you woke up in the mornings. You’d been asleep for a while. Fuck, he should have called. Should have waited till tomorrow. Carmen and his fucking impatience.

You opened the door fully, revealing the beautiful sight of you dressed in one of his shirts. His heart seemed to do a somersault inside his chest. It was just another thing added to the pile of stuff he was already feeling. You grabbed his hand, softly tugging him inside.

“Everything okay?” you asked as you shut the door.

Carmen nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—sorry. I should’ve called.”

You simply smiled at him. You didn’t need to say it, Carmy knew what the smile meant. It was a silent way of telling him, “It’s alright.” You moved close to him, wrapping your arms around his body. Carmen returned the gesture instantly. He didn’t even need to think about it. The second your body came in contact with his, he was melting into you, body molding against yours like two pieces of a puzzle.

You let out a soft sigh as he placed a kiss on your hair.

“You come for a sleepover?”

Carmen smiled.

“Would that be okay?”

You lifted your head off his chest so you could look at him, eyes slightly closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

“Of course, Carm.”

Carmen slept that night, but he did not rest. His mind was an endless collection of dreams with the predominant theme of babies. Some of them had you in them, your belly big with an unborn child. Some were just sounds of babies—giggles, babbles, crying. And some were just flashes. Flashes of possibilities.

Carmen’s body woke up at six, muscles rigid as he bolted upright. He was ready to go to work, ready to head into the restaurant and face the rush of movement. But then he looked at your clock and realized—it was Sunday. There was no service.

In any other circumstance, the realization would have made his stomach churn. Today, however, a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.

You shifted beside him, eyes blinking slowly as you woke. Carmen was still sitting up in bed, staring at the wall, trying to allow his body to relax before lying back down again. He hadn’t realized you were awake until you placed a soft hand on his back. His head snapped around to look at you.

You were still lying down, face pressed into the pillow, eyes on him.

“Nightmare?”

You’d become used to his bad dreams—you’d been over at his place more than once when it had happened.

“No, actually.”

Carmen lay back down, turning onto his side to face you. You reached up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, letting out a small yawn. Carmen took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You smiled, eyes still slightly closed.

He placed another kiss on your palm. Then your wrist. Then your arm.

He kept going, slow and steady, kissing along your skin until he reached your shoulder. Then, he moved to your neck.

Your breath hitched at the feeling, a soft whine slipping out.

There it was. Just what Carmen wanted. He knew all your sweet spots, knew how to get you riled up. And when you tilted your head to give him more access, Carmen knew you wanted this just as much as he did.

So he kept going.

Somewhere between kisses and soft whines, you’d both ended up completely naked. Now, you found yourself in a delicious position. Your body pressed against Carmen’s, both of you covered only by the sheets, his hand working you open.

Your mouth fell open as you moaned. Carmen’s fingers didn’t stop, moving in languid, practiced strokes as he worked to push you toward your high. You were getting close. Then he added a third finger, and his thumb moved to circle your clit, and you were gone.

You came with a shout of his name, your body lifting off the bed as the orgasm crashed through you.

Carmen watched you fall apart with something close to awe, his breath catching in his throat as you clenched around his fingers, body arching into the pleasure. He kept moving gently through your high, drawing it out, helping you ride the waves until your body finally sagged back against the mattress.

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. Your hand reached for him under the sheets, fingers wrapping around his dick. He groaned at the contact, hips twitching forward into your grip.

“Shit,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours.

You opened your legs wider, silently telling Carmen you were ready for him. He hissed as the head of his dick nudged against your folds, your wetness coating him.

“You’re so ready for me,” he said, more to himself than to you, like it knocked the wind out of him.

You hummed, voice low and breathy. “Always ready for you, Carmy. Need you so bad.”

“Yeah, baby? Want me inside?”

You nodded, eyes closed, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Open your eyes, baby. Want you to look at me.”

You did as he asked, forcing your eyes to stay on his as he slid inside. Your brows furrowed the moment he bottomed out, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. Carmen wasn’t faring much better. A soft growl escaped him as your walls wrapped tightly around him. He shifted gently, allowing himself to settle fully inside you.

You gasped, nails digging into his back, your body trembling from how full you felt.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

You moaned in response, your legs wrapping around his hips, a silent plea for him to move.

So he did.

He started slow. Deep strokes that had you gasping into his mouth. Every thrust felt deliberate, like he was trying to tell you something with each one. How much he needed you. How much he loved you. Even if he still couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You clung to him, moaning softly with every thrust, and Carmen buried his face in your neck, losing himself in the feeling of you. Then his mind flashed back to you holding Sophie, and something snapped. His grip on you shifted, not rough but not as soft as usual, more charged, more possessive.

“You feel—fuck—you feel like you were made for me,” he muttered, lips brushing your neck. “Like your body just knows me.”

You moaned in response, back arching to bring him even deeper. His thrusts picked up, just a little sharper now, more deliberate. He kissed your shoulder, your collarbone, your cheek, then locked eyes with you as he whispered:

“You ever think about it?” he asked, breath ragged. “Me getting you pregnant?”

You let out a soft gasp because he’d just hit the right spot and also because his question surprised you. Not in a bad way, just an unexpected one. You clenched around him. Carmen groaned at your reaction, his forehead falling to yours, his pace faltering for just a second.

“Yeah, you do. I can feel it,” he breathed. “You like the idea of me filling you up, don’t you? Fucking my baby into you.”

You whimpered, affected by his words and how fucking good his voice sounded. And how he looked? Oh, it was fucking glorious. The sight itself almost made you come. He placed a hand on the headboard not to ground himself but to fuck you harder. Deeper.

“Want it so bad,” he whispered. “Want to see you round and full. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You couldn’t form words anymore just nodded, eyes fluttering shut, a strangled moan escaping you as your second orgasm began to build fast and hard in your belly. Carmen felt it. Felt the way you clenched around him tighter, the way your hips began to rock up into his on their own.

“Gonna come again, baby? Fuck, come on. Do it. Let me feel you.”

And when you did when you cried out his name and came around him again, trembling and raw it was enough to drag him over the edge with you.

“Gonna come inside you,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Gonna fill you up so good. Get you pregnant, fuck, take all of it, baby.”

With a final deep thrust, Carmen came with a broken moan, burying himself inside you, hips grinding down as he emptied himself. He held you tight, shaking slightly with the force of it, his breath shuddering against your shoulder.

Neither of you moved for a while. A million questions raced through your head. When you finally managed to slow your heart and catch your breath you leaned up on one hand, making Carmen look at you.

“Something happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

Carmen blew out a breath through his nose. Ran a hand through his hair.

“I saw you. Earlier. With Sophie.”

You blinked, surprised.

“In the office?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t mean to watch or anything. I just… I couldn’t move.”

Another pause. You let it hang.

“She looked at me,” he went on, voice barely above a whisper. “The baby. And you—you were just standing there, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I—I felt something. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it was real. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh. It made sense now. The late-night arrival. The shifting in bed the whole night long. The immediate desire as soon as you woke up.

“What did it feel like?” you asked eventually.

He looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Like I wanted it. That—whatever that was. Like maybe I could—” He stopped himself, shook his head.

“Fuck. I don’t know.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart warming at the realization of Carmy having baby fever. And of him thinking about having that. With you. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes. He shifted his head so that his lips were on your palm. He placed a soft kiss there before opening his eyes again.

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” you said.

You lay back down, settling your head on his chest, your hands making small circles on his skin.

“Is it something you’d want?”

You let out a soft sigh.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Carmen stayed quiet for a moment.

“With me?” he whispered.

You placed a kiss on his chest before moving to look him in the eyes.

“Of course, Carmy. If you want it too.”

You felt his body relax beneath you.

“I think I do. I just—”

“Hey,” you cut him off. “You don’t have to have it all figured out,” you said. “But if you felt something… that’s not nothing.”

He nodded, biting his lip nervously.

“We’ll just take it a day at a time, Carm. That’s all we have to do.”

“A day at a time.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. I think I can do that.”

You both settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that does not feel empty but full—full of unspoken thoughts, hopes, and fears shared between two people learning to lean on each other.

[spellbinding10]

https://x.com/hugetulip/status/1886984575076982982?s=46

This but make is steddie x reader 🫣🤭

An Elephant Never Forgets - Steddie X Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - Steve arrives at Eddie's trailer expecting to hang out, but finds himself spying on his two friends.

Warnings - Strong Language / Threesome / Soft to Rough / Boot Riding / Oral (M & F receiving) / Cum Eating / Perv!Steve / Sex Toys / Praise Kink / Unprotected Sex / Spit / Degradation / Cum Play / Hair Pulling

Word Count - 2.3k

A/N - This (nsfw) had my jaw on the floor oml

~~~~~

Forest Hills Trailer Park met a tapestry of luminescent rays from the setting sun as the evening shadows deepened into rich purples. The wind blew a gentle fragrance of mud and pine, bringing with it the end of summer blues and a drop in temperature. Birds chirped their little lullabies as they settled into their nests and watched nature's masterpiece paint the sky.

When Steve finally arrived at Eddie's trailer, the sun had eclipsed the horizon, kissing the earth goodnight and bidding the world farewell to its burning embers. The sun's fiery glow had melted into twilight. The hum of Steve's engine had disturbed a small finch, who had been perched on Eddie's tin roof, and it soured into the slumberous sky and back into its tree house. Regardless, Steve paid no mind as he exited his car.

The stray fallen leaves crunched beneath his boots as he headed towards the front door, when he paused abruptly. Funny. Eddie had asked Steve to hang out after he had finished his shift at Scoops Ahoy, and yet, all the lights were off- there was no offensive music, no obnoxious singing, no unsavoury movie on the TV. Surely Eddie hadn't forgotten.

Steve tried his luck knocking on the door.

No answer.

He tried again a little louder.

Nothing.

Eddie's van was still in the driveway so he wasn't at band practice. Steve held a grip on the cool metal handle and pushed downward. With a gentle click, it opened. He treaded lightly through the trailer, starting with the living room to see if Eddie had fallen asleep on the couch. With no luck, he steered towards the hall where he noticed a faint golden glow from a crack in the door of Eddie's bedroom. The closer he approached, he could hear a faint buzzing getting louder and louder and the lewd sounds of slurping and the clicking of a wet tongue.

Out of curiosity, Steve approached the door and peaked through the crack, pushing against it only enough to see through and not cause it to creak. Steve's jaw hit the floor at the sight.

Eddie was positioned on the edge of the bed and had you sitting before him, head nestled snuggly on his lap as he softly raked his fingers through your hair. It seemed innocent enough, only you were suckling gently on the tip of Eddies cock, bright red and leaking its pearly juices into your eager mouth. And while that was shockingly arousing to Steve, it wasn't what had his eyes bulging from their sockets.

Unlike Eddie, who had his jeans hanging low on his hips, you were completely naked, your beautiful backside on full display for him. Your hands had been handcuffed behind your back, and your hips rolled gingerly along the leather of Eddies boot. And it wasn't until he heard you moan softly around Eddie's cock that he realised where the buzzing sound was coming from. A vibrator was strapped firmly in place around Eddie's shin, set to the lowest vibration. And as your clit swiped along it with each delicate rock of your hips, the dildo strapped vertically to the toe-cap of his boot prodded deeper inside of you. He could see the perspiration glistening on your skin. Who knows how long you had been going at it.

Steve could feel his loins burning at the sight. He knew it was wrong to be watching such an intimate moment between the two of you. He knew he was being a disgusting perv, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. It was addicting. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to replace that dildo with the full length of his aching cock. And this wasn't the first time he had thought about you this way, or Eddie for that matter. He had had the privilege of your companies for experimentation before. But never the two of you together at once. 

The concept had his hand reaching for the bulge in his jeans, adjusting himself for a bit of relief. He couldn't prevent the hiss that sucked through his teeth at the gratifying sensation. But that feeling was short lived when Eddie's eyes snapped to his, catching him red handed. 

Steve half expected Eddie to stop, to cover you up and start yelling at him for being a perv and a peeping tom. Instead, he signalled Steve to enter with a quick jerk of his head. Eddie began tapping his foot gently, the dildo prodding delightfully inside of you and distracting you from the creak of the door when Steve stepped over the threshold.  

"That's it, Sweetheart, keep taking that cock." Eddie cooed at you sweetly, before locking eyes with Steve in a mischievously planned look. "You need some help riding it?"

You hummed around Eddie's tip in a delightful post orgasm delirium, your mind hazy with pleasure and a need to please him. At his question, you'd expected him to begin tapping his foot faster or increasing the angle of his foot to make it slide deeper inside of you. Instead, you gasped in shock when two hands placed themselves on your hips and began manoeuvring you up and down the length of the dildo. The sweet aromas of chocolate syrup and maraschino cherries were enough to tell you who had positioned themselves behind you.

"Steve." You moan airily, barely above a whisper, but loud enough for them both to hear.

In your pleasure, you didn't even question why he was here or where he had appeared from. All you could feel was the warmth from his soft hands as they worked you up and down. The dildo was not nearly as big as Eddie's cock, or Steve's as you recalled. It was the Goldilocks of dildos- it wasn't small enough where you felt nothing, nor was it big enough to make you cum, it was just right to keep you on the edge of euphoria. And Eddie had picked it out tonight especially, just to be a big tease, but with Steve now in the mix, the night was going to go a lot differently than he had planned.

"That's it, Honey. You're doing so good." Steve's voice softly rasped in your ear as he planted a kiss to your shoulder. 

Your tummy warmed at the praise and, despite your aching thighs, continued to move with him as he pleased. With your lips still wrapped around Eddie, you clawed blindly at Steve's shirt with your tied hands. He caught on quickly and removed his shirt, pressing his bare front to your back, causing you to melt into him.

"Please." You mumble around Eddie's tip.

"What was that, Sweetheart." He asked stroking a thumb across your forehead.

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"More." You pleaded. "I need more."

"More? Oh I see," He teased. "You want Steve's cock, don't 'cha, Sweetheart?"

You nod desperately as you licked his head back into your mouth for persuasion. Eddie shuddered in pleasure, but agreed regardless. He bent over to switch the vibrator off, causing you to whine at the loss. He took you by the arm and helped you onto the bed. You lay on your back, hands trapped beneath your own body weight as the two of them stood before you and admired you in all of your glory. They ogled at the perked nipples on your breasts and the glistening juices on your pussy. You sighed in desperation, yearning for them to do something other than burn your image into their brains.

Steve made the first move. He reached for his belt and removed his jeans, giving himself a few tugs to spark more life into his impressive length. You bit your lip at the sight and your pussy drooled for him hungrily. He gave you no warning as he plunged himself in one fell swoop until his hips snapped harshly against yours. He held himself there, groaning loudly and absorbing the utter ecstasy that the walls of your cunt flowed through him. You gasped as he jerked his pelvis, pulling his drenched cock out until just the tip remained before repeating. His thrusts were slow yet fulfilling and his hand cupped your hips delicately to hold you in place. You whimpered with the stretch, pussy dripping to accommodate him.  

You had barely noticed that Eddie had gotten himself undressed until he began stroking himself at the sight of you and Steve. Greedily, he swooped down to trail kisses across your tender breasts and down your stomach until he reached the place where you and Steve connected. His tongued lapped at your pulsing clit making you moan his name louder. He allowed himself to drool all over the two of you, making Steve's cock glide in and out of you effortlessly. Steve grunted at the sensation of the tip of Eddie's tongue licking along his shaft with every drag of his hips. He threaded a hand into Eddie's hair, holding him in place as he slipped out of you and shoved himself into Eddie's throat. Eddie moaned at the taste of your sweet elixir. Steve's groans grew louder and louder and he swapped between your tight cunt and Eddie's eager mouth with every thrust. 

It wasn't long before his hips stuttered and whimpers of your's and Eddie's name flew from between his lips. He tried desperately to continue alternating between you and Eddie as thick white ropes spurted from the throbbing tip of his solid cock. His cum painted Eddies face and dripped from your pussy. Eddie swiped it from his cheek, collecting it on his fingers before forcing them into your mouth. You sucked his digits gladly, savouring Steve's taste.

Whilst Eddie was enjoying the view, he had waited long enough for his turn. He ripped his fingers from your mouth and used his brute strength to flip you on your front. You face smothered into the pillow as Eddie lined himself up behind you. His cock slid in embarrassingly easily. He tested a few slow thrusts before he was pounding into you wildly. Steve gripped you by the hair, pulling your face from the pillows that were muffling your moans. Your wails of pleasure were suffocated by Steve's tongue as he kissed you as sloppy as your pussy was. 

Eddie collected your wrists in his hands, using them as leverage for every plough. They dug into your back, causing it to arch at an unnaturally deep angle. You knew you would be sore tomorrow, but the angle had Eddie hitting impossibly deep inside of you and you cried against Steve's lips. You whimpered when he stopped kissing you, removing himself from you for only a few seconds before you could hear a gentle buzzing.

A scream of pleasure escaped your lips when Steve pressed the vibrator to your sensitive clit and cranked up the power. Somehow, Eddie managed to fuck his cock into you harder. The pleasure had tears springing in your eyes and warmth spreading in your abdomen.

You tried to warn him, but it was impossible for you to scream anything that wasn't either of their names. Suddenly, white hot pleasure seared through your entire being, rendering you completely useless. Eddie gripped the fat of your hips to keep you positioned how he liked, his hips never faltering as your pussy clenched and leaked around his girthy length.

"That's it, atta girl." Eddie praised with a growl. "Such a fucking whore for us, aren't 'cha Sweetheart."

"Ahh." You sobbed at a pleasurable thrust, giving him the answer he needed.

The constant snap of his hips and the hum of the vibrator on your quivering clit gave you no opportunity to come down from your high, and instead prolonged it torturously. Eddie's stamina gradually began to wear out as he gasped for breath and his hips lost their rhythm. With a final thrust, the sheathed his entire length into the warmth of your cunt. His cock pulsed with every thick rope of cum that shot into your womb. You sighed at the sensation, your walls throbbing and milking his length of every last drop.

He nudged Steve. "Watch this."

The two of them gathered in front of your ruined pussy as Eddie pulled his softening length from deep within you. They watched in awe as a never ending flow of their cum leaked from your hole. Steve couldn't help himself as he licked a stripe upwards from your clit, collecting Eddie's cum on his tongue before violently spitting it back into your gaping pussy. 

"Don't want it to go to waste." Steve shrugged inappropriately casual for what he had just done.

Eddie chuckled and then, upon noticing more cum leaking down your thighs, licked it up until it pooled in his mouth. He grabbed Steve's perfect hair forced him on his knees. He held his chin, forcing his mouth open before dribbling a mix of cum and spit into Steve's willing mouth. However, before he could swallow, he forced his tongue into his mouth for a sloppy kiss that had the glorious mixture smearing everywhere.

You whimpered, catching their attention. You could hear the salacious wet sounds of kissing and found yourself feeling left out. Eddie and Steve shared a knowing look.

Eddie gripped onto your hair as he had Steve's and pulled you up enough for him to tower over you and bring his lips to yours. You moaned around his tongue before you felt a second one prodding the corner of your mouth. The two of them licked into your mouth in a three way kiss that took your breath away. They kissed you until you were sure that your lips would be chapped in the morning. 

The two of them released you, letting you fall into the bed in exhaustion. 

"So, you wanna hang out?" Eddie smirked. Afterall, he would never forget making plans with Steve.

[spellbinding10]

ʚ♰ɞ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—Chris Evans & Characters x camgirl!reader, Sebastian Stan Characters x camgirl!reader [in order of appearance: friends-with-benefits!Ransom Drysdale, dad’s best friend!Chris Evans, neighbour!Colin Shea, CEO!Steve Rogers, CEO!Bucky Barnes, university IT!Jake Jensen, Andy Barber, Johnny Storm, Ari Levinson, more characters to be added]

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT - minors DNI, fluff, angst, AGE GAP, OnlyFans, camgirl!reader, uni!reader, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, friends-with-benefits!Ransom Drysdale, dad’s best friend!Chris Evans, CEO!Stucky, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation, breeding kink, dom/sub, other warnings to be added

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | They’re shaded and jaded, and you’re the answer to their prayers.

♫ ·ﾟ𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 22.4K

𝗔/𝗡 | Here’s a self indulgent series. There is no set update schedule but I do have a plot planned! No gifs/photos belong to me, found from on Pinterest [1 | 2 | 3] all credits go to the original creators. Chapters will have specific warnings. No taglist. [*=smut]

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʚ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ɞ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: (3/?)

Going Live in 3-2-1…*

Opulence*

Splendour*

Muse (Envy P.I)

Playboy’s Heart

Domestic Bliss

Envy P.II

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒/𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

ransom’s version of a good night

jealousy | panty stealing*

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒: Names (usernames)

This will be updated as the story progresses in order of (physical) appearance.

FWB!Ransom Drysdale (angelsdaddy) | DBF!Chris Evans (81Robert) | Colin Shea (naughtyneighbour) | CEO!Steve Rogers (SRG_04) | CEO!Bucky Barnes (17sergeant) | college IT!Jake Jensen (GoldenJ) | Andy Barber (mr.BA) | Ari Levinson (ivela) | Johnny Storm (HotHeaded)

Just random users who aren’t cevans or sebstan characters, they’re just there to fill some space and have no significance in the story: mister8in, Bend0ver, Always_hard, 69wme, callmesir

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘: tags

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: #holy grail drabble

Discussions/Mini blurbs: thots | fluff

all asks | ideas | spicy videos | videos/tiktoks | art

Characters: reader | ransom | chris | steve | andy | bucky | ari | colin | jake | johnny

[spellbinding10]

I LIKE YOU IN RED

➙ Stiles Stilinski x Goth!F!Reader

➙ Stiles was always a bit of a mess in the face of a compliment, especially when it came from a girl. More specifically when it came from the, as Lydia Martin would say, Morticia Adam’s of Beacon Hills.

what to expect…flirty fluff, stiles being a complete flustered fool, reader is definitely doing this on purpose for many reasons.

More Stiles x Goth!F!Reader Here

STILES WAS sitting in class, his leg bouncing rapidly as he stared at the teachers illegible handwriting on the board.

Coach was out for the first time in a billion years, leaving them with a sub who very clearly wanted to be anywhere else. Halfheartedly talking the students through the lesson. Voice so dull stiles found himself considering slamming his head repeatedly onto his desk for a moment of relief.

In fact, he even knocked his knuckles into the wooden desk to see how tough the surface was. If it would do the right amount of damage to keep him from having to listen to another second of whatever the hell was going on ahead of him.

He became so engrossed in his thoughts of sweet freedom that he hadn’t even realized his tapping had caught the attention of the girl behind him.

Which was surprising considering he’d all but nearly thrown himself into the chair in front of her at the start of class. Craving a chance to be close to her, even if it was to never even sneak a glance or so much as whisper a hello.

She tipped her head to the side, long wavy hair flowing over her black lace sleeves. Her lips, painted black were curved around the cap of her pen. Smoked out lids creasing as she observed him from behind. Thick liner raising on her features as she smiled.

The girl had noticed Stiles on various occasions.

When he first bumped into her freshman year and he all but blurted out that he had a hunch she was a vampire in her face. He expected her to slap him, however she simply giggled and said how flattered she was.

During lunch when he’s not so discreetly staring her down with a dumb look on his face. Nearly slamming his head onto his lunch tray whenever Scott redirects his attention to whatever nonsense they’re discussing.

Or, the memory she’s most fond of, was when he’d managed to trip and slam right into her in the library. He’d forced them both onto the floor right beside the gothic horror novels.

He spluttered and panicked, turning bright red while staring her down from above. She grinned and simply turned her head. Plucking the novel she’d been searching for off the bottom shelf.

She could recall how her heart ached in that moment, how pretty she thought he looked all red for her.

If he hadn’t sprinted from the library whispering out a frantic ‘oh god’ then perhaps she would have told him.

However, now, sat behind him. Listening to his tapping. She couldn’t help but to notice his red flannel. How red, whether it be his clothes or his cheeks, did suit him.

Very well.

She ripped a corner of her notebook off and wrote in an elegant script. Her black ink smudging against the side of her hand as she went. Nails tapping the table accidentally as she folded up the newly formed note.

Despite her attire the girl was still relatively shy when it came to being forward. Therefore she waited until class was complete to reach over and slip it into his flannel pocket.

Leaning down to whisper sweetly in his ear, her lipstick likely leaving a small bit of transfer on the tip as she spoke.

Stiles mouth dropped open the second her fingers brushed his chest. Her lips brushing his ear making him fist his fingers together and cover his mouth. Slouching down in order to hide his horribly obvious panic.

“You look pretty in red”

Then she was gone, walking off with a grin. His eyes were wide as he watched her go. Brain filled with static at the abrupt attention he’d been given.

It wasn’t until he got home that he even realized she’d given him a note. His hands frantically flailing about to catch the paper that fell from his top when he went to change out of it.

Mouth opening and closing like a fish as he stared down at her handwriting.

‘Meet me in the library tomorrow before class x’

[spellbinding10]

“Not having enough space for anyone else’s pain”

marcus x fem reader, after Ginny and Marcus break up. Y/n comforts him(after Wellington play, mentions of spiked drinks reverse comfort)

Marcus sat in the backseat of his mom’s car, riding home from the Wellington play. Maxine was ranting about how excited she was for the second act of Wellington next week, he looked out the window mind elsewhere although he felt his phone burning in his pocket as he looked, once they made it home he quickly made it to his room and threw his phone on the bed running a hand through his hair feeling his chest squeeze and his vision blurry.

Your pov:

When you got the call you were at blue farm standing in line just about to grab dinner. “Hello?”, you said loudly over the loud chatter of newcomers from the play Marcus stayed quiet for a second before finally saying something, “I did it, y/n.”, I felt my heart break because I knew what he did, “Oh, Marcus i-I’m sorry.”, “Can we meet at the skatepark, please?”; I was at the counter Joe giving me a concerned look as I held up my hand so he could give me a second, “I’m at blue farm, I can pick you up after I get out of here.”, Marcus took a deep breath, “Yeah, okay thanks.” I hung up and ordered. “Hey, Joe uh can I get a burger but American cheese instead of Swiss and the truffle fries and a chicken tagine to go!”, he nodded, “any dessert or drinks?”, I nodded, “yeah, two frozen lemonades and two oversized cookies extra gooey.”, he sighed chuckling, “Seems like your ordering a pick me up.”, I nodded as I payed. I waited by the pick up bar when Padma came out with the to go bag handing it to me, “Here, y/n.”, I thanked her before turning and heading for the door finally making to to my car and heading to the Baker’s.

Y/n😊🙂‍↔️:

I’m outside

Marcus🖤🎨:

Coming

(Marcus pov:)

I got up grabbing my AirPods and heading downstairs (mom banned me from sneaking out through my window and I was too tired to fight with her.), “where are you going?”, Ellen called sitting on the couch with Clint watching tv. “Hanging out with y/n.”, she sighed, “You told her?”, I nodded. “Be back by 12, you got school tomorrow.”, I flashed her a thankful smile and left finding y/n waiting in the driver seat waving at me. I got in the passenger side, “Hey.”

(Your pov:)

I gave a sorry smile, “Have you eaten?”, I asked as I put the car in reverse backing out of the driveway and driving to the skatepark. “Um, earlier I had some coffee and a donut.”, I sighed stopping at the stop sign and looking at Marcus. “Well, I got you something.”, Marcus smiled, “Your the best.”, I nodded, “Of course I am.”, I finally made it to the skatepark, I parked and turned to Marcus taking in his expression— his tired eyes,messy hair and soft expressions told it all. “What?”, he asked letting out an awkward chuckle, “Nothing, come on.”, we got out and found a spot on a park bench overlooking the small newly made skate park. “Here, I got you the good stuff.”, I said as I handed the food to him, “Shit, you spoil me.”, I laughed looking out into the dark sky the stars dancing above us. “Lay it on me.”, Marcus began to explain what transpired as I listened intently.

(Marcus pov:)

I sighed, finishing my story. “I feel like shit, I loved her y/n. I did.”, y/n nodded, “I know, Marcus but she’ll understand with time.”, I looked at y/n feeling my eyes water, “It’s Ginny. You know she’ll never understand she has her own shit.”, y/n nodded. We sat in silence until my phone buzz, it was Max.

Max🥸😒:

Where are you?

Marcus 🖤🎨:

With y/n

Max🥸😒:

Oh. Stay safe

I sighed running my hand through my hair and laid back looking up at the sky. Feeling my body relax, “You brought your flask?”, y/n asked holding up her frozen lemonade. I smirked nodding, pulling it out of my jacket pocket and pouring vodka into the drink, she took a sip before squinting up her nose, “Shit, that’s strong.”, she coughed putting the drink down. I laughed, “I still gotta get you on the good stuff.”, she shook her head, “I’ll stick to my buzz balls, thanks.”

11:45 p.m.

(Your pov:)

We had finished up hanging out at the skatepark and finally made it back home, Marcus’s family was still up hence the light on in the living room. “Thanks for tonight.”, Marcus said hugging me. “Anytime, I knew you just needed someone to listen.”, I ruffled his hair handing him his leftovers, “Y/n.”, Marcus said quietly before looking at the ground, “Yes?”, there was a long pause before he looked at me. “Can I kiss you?”; I felt my heart begin to race in an instant, “U-um, Marcus you’re drunk.”, he shook his head, “And?”, I sighed. “Go inside.”, he pouted giving me a low whine. I playfully rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat up, “You just broke up with your girlfriend, Marcus.”, he sighed,nodding. “Okayyy.”, he said rolling his eyes, I huffed, “Goodnight Mar-“, I felt soft lips crash into mine as an arm wrapped around me steadying me. “Mm,Marcus!”, I managed to let out looking at him with wide eyes he looked back at me, his eyes low and hungry. “Your lips are soft.”, he said softly. Before I could say anything else, Maxine came out of the house, “Marcus, Marcus are you drunk? I’m so sorry y/n.”, she apologized unbeknownst to what just happened as she wrapped an arm around Marcus and grabbed his plate. “It’s alright, take care you two.” She nodded, walking them back into the house as I stood there shocked. I was about to get in my car, when I saw Georgia standing at the curb by with a trash bag in hand looking at me with those sharp eyes. I opened my car door before waving nervously which she did right back before turning and walking back to her house. I sat in my car, hands on the steering wheel, “Shit.”, I breathed before driving home for the night.

[spellbinding10]

The Recipe for Remembering

The Bear AU (Part Fifteen)

Here to my masterlist!

Pairing: Carmen x Fem! Reader

CW: language, angsty... kinda NSFW 18+

Summary: Carmen returns to Copenhagen for a workshop — and for Y/N. What was meant to be a short visit quickly turns into something deeper, as old routines, familiar kitchens, and lingering feelings stir up everything they’ve been avoiding. Between shared meals, stolen glances, and the tension of what comes next, both are faced with a choice neither can ignore anymore.

A/N: Hello, my loves! I'm so happy with all your feedback on the last chapter! I couldn't be more thankful for readers like you. 🥹🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy this deep dive into a small but important fraction of their past. And yes, our story is coming to an end soon! I'm not sure yet, but the next chapter will probably be the last. So hold your breath! For now, I hope you all enjoy this one, and please send me your feedback!

“Hey, Bear... listen, plans changed.” Her voice crackled over the message, soft but frustrated. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it to the airport. One of the guys got sick, and I’ve gotta cover. I tried to swap with someone, but... yeah. Didn’t work out.” A sigh. “Mila’s home though — she’ll wait for you. Just head straight there. Rest. Take a hot shower. I’ll try to be back before three, okay? So we can have some time together. Maybe that bistro you told me about? I miss you, babe. Can’t wait to have you here again.” 

Carmen tucked his phone into his jacket pocket as he stepped off the Uber, the Copenhagen cold immediately curling around him like a slap. Grey sky. Crisp air. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. 

The second he rang the bell, the door buzzed open. Mila greeted him in sweats and a ponytail, sipping from a chipped mug. She looked half-asleep but smiled wide when she saw him. 

“Chef,” she said dramatically, throwing her arms open. “Welcome back to Denmark, Berzatto.” 

He smirked, stepping inside. “Hey.” “You smell like airport,” she deadpanned, squinting at him. “But it’s okay. I forgive you. Come in.” 

The place smelled like mint and basil — her candle, probably. Warm. Lived-in. 

Carmen shrugged off his coat. Mila took it without asking. 

“Gotta say,” she added, heading for the kitchen, “it’s honestly a relief you’re finally here. Maybe now Y/N will shut up about you.” 

He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“She’s been driving me crazy,” Mila grinned. “Every day — ‘Carmen this,’ ‘Carmen that.’ Adorable. Annoying, but adorable.” 

He ducked his head, failing miserably to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll, uh... drop my stuff in her room.” 

“Go. You know the way. Coffee’s fresh if you want.” 

Her room hadn’t changed. Books stacked by the bed. Her perfume tilted sideways on the dresser. A new photo taped to the wall — them. Her leaning into his chest, his hand curled at her waist, both of them half-smiling like idiots. 

The bed was unmade. Her sweatshirt draped over the chair. It smelled like her — linen, shampoo, that citrus hand cream she always used. 

Carmen sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the blanket. She was everywhere here. Even when she wasn’t. 

After a minute, he stood, restless. Bathroom. Hot shower. Steam clouded the mirror as he tried to shake the travel off — and the nerves crawling under his skin. 

Didn’t help. Couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t wait. 

So he got dressed. Coat back on. And walked to Noma. 

he streets welcomed him like muscle memory — the curve by the harbor, the cold sharper near the water, the smell of wood smoke and fresh bread trailing from cafés. 

Noma stood quiet on the outside. Understated as always. But stepping inside — the hum hit him like a wave. Clatter of pans, low voices, the steady rhythm of service. 

It was like stepping back into an old skin. 

“Chef Berzatto!” Jakob clapped him on the back, grinning. “Look at you. Back in the madhouse.” 

Carmen shook his hand. “Yeah. Guess I couldn’t stay away.” 

“Good to have you, man. Heard you’re helping with the Christmas dinner?” 

“Yeah. And a workshop thing.” 

Another younger cook perked up nearby. “Wait — you’re the guy from The Bear, right?” 

Jakob grinned. “Yeah, yeah. He’s a big shot now. But trust me — back then? Still scrubbing oysters like the rest of us.” 

Laughter. Carmen smiled but barely registered it. His eyes were already searching. 

And then — there. 

Y/N. 

Back prep table. Sleeves rolled. Fingers working something delicate. Laughing — head tipped back, wide, bright. 

It hit him in the chest. Sharp. 

His feet moved before he even realized. 

When her eyes caught his — the room blurred. Her smile faltered for half a second. Then softened. Warm. Full. 

“Carmen.” Her voice barely a breath, trying — and failing — to sound casual. Her hands stilled, towel gripped tight. 

“You’re... already here?” she asked, stepping around the counter. 

“Yeah.” His voice was low, rough. Couldn’t wait. Missed you. 

“How was the flight?” Soft again. The voice she only used with him. 

“Fast. Couldn’t... couldn’t wait.” His throat tightened around it. 

They didn’t touch. Couldn’t. But God, the way their eyes locked — it was worse than if they had. His hand twitched at his side. Her shoulder brushed close enough that he caught her scent — flour, citrus, rosemary. 

Then — 

“Hey! Look who finally made it.” Luca’s voice cut in. Bright. Oblivious. 

He walked over with a grin, wiping his hands on a towel. “Carmen Berzatto, man. Welcome back.” 

A handshake. Firm. Easy. 

“You ready for the chaos? Heard you’re doing the workshop and Christmas dinner.” 

Y/N laughed, nudging Luca with her elbow. “Don’t scare him off.” 

Carmen forced a smirk, watching — not missing the familiar way they stood together. The way her shoulder leaned toward Luca like it was muscle memory. 

“Yeah... yeah. That’s the plan.” 

“Oh — by the way,” Luca grinned, glancing between them. “Heard you’re staying at Y/N’s this week.” He tipped his chin toward Carmen. “Well, I only allow it ‘cause I know you won’t be making any moves on her.” 

A beat. Then, sly: “Still waiting for her to realize she’s got a raging crush on me. Maybe let me take her out.” 

A joke. Of course. Luca’s jokes were always like this. But it hit Carmen’s ribs like a fist. 

His jaw tightened. Fingers pressed into his pockets. His eyes darted to Y/N — like he needed her to laugh it off. 

She rolled her eyes, already stepping in. “Luca, Jesus. You’ve been campaigning for that date longer than half the staff’s been alive.” She shoved him lightly. “If delusion had Michelin stars...” 

“Ouch,” Luca grinned, hand to his chest. “Savage.” 

Carmen laughed — thin. Tight. Wrong. Something bitter curled under his ribs, and no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t shake. 

Y/N noticed. Of course she did. Her fingers brushed his wrist — a squeeze. Quick. Meant for him alone. “Come on,” she said, softer now. “Let me show you the new pastry lab.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen croaked. “Yeah, sure.” 

As Luca turned back, humming like nothing ever happened, Y/N tugged Carmen away. Her hand brushed his once more — and when she glanced back, her eyes said I know. I know exactly what’s happening in that head of yours. 

Y/N led him down the narrow hallway, brisk, purposeful, until they slipped into the side pastry lab. Quiet. Empty for now. 

Before Carmen could even register the space, she turned — hands gripping his jacket — tugged him down, and kissed him. Firm. Certain. No hesitation. 

It wasn’t just hungry. It was grounding. You’re here. You’re mine. You’re safe. 

Carmen froze for half a second — stunned — then folded into her like it was instinct. His hands slid to her back, her waist, pulling her in like he never wanted to let go. 

Her lips were warm, sure, pouring every missed moment into him. And he kissed her back like a man starving — not just for her, but for this. For home. 

When she pulled back, her fingers stayed curled in his jacket, thumb brushing along his collarbone. Forehead pressed to his. “Don’t,” she whispered, breath soft. “Don’t get in your head.” 

“I’m not—” he started, but his voice was thin, shaky. 

“You are.” Her smile was small, knowing. Gentle. Her thumb skimmed his jaw. “But don’t. You’re here. I’m here. Nothing’s changed.” A kiss brushed the corner of his mouth. “Missed you, Bear. So much.” 

His chest squeezed at that — the nickname, the softness, the truth in it. “Missed you too,” he rasped. “More than I know how to say.” 

A door creaked — someone stepping in. They jumped apart — not far, just enough to look casual. 

The pastry sous didn’t even glance their way, busy heading for the fridge. 

Carmen’s hand lingered on hers, hidden between them. His lips brushed her temple — barely a ghost of a kiss. “Later,” he murmured. 

“Later,” she echoed, fingers squeezing his. A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.” 

“Good.” His thumb swept over her wrist — quiet, steady. I’m here. I’m yours. 

The pastry sous finally glanced up. “Oh — hey. Didn’t realize anyone was in here.” 

“All good,” Y/N said easily, barely stepping away. “Just showing him the new space.” 

“Cool.” 

Carmen shoved his hands into his pockets, biting back a grin. Still watching her like she was the only thing in the room. Her hand brushed his again, fleeting, hidden — not just a promise of later, but a reminder. You’re home now 

The afternoon moved in a rhythm Carmen had missed — the kind that made sense in his bones. 

He didn’t just watch. He stepped in. Tied an apron. Rolled his sleeves. Helped with prep, jumped on a station when someone ran deliveries, tasted a stock and adjusted seasoning without thinking twice. 

He moved like he’d always been there — quiet, focused — but always aware of her. 

Y/N caught herself watching him too. The way he fit. How effortlessly he slipped back into the flow — like no time had passed. 

Their eyes met now and then, mid-task. Just a second. A glance. But it was enough. I see you. I’m here. I missed you. 

By the time the kitchen started transitioning to evening service, Carmen peeled off his apron, washed his hands, and grabbed his jacket. Y/N caught up with him in the hallway, fingers catching his — hidden between them but not heavy anymore. 

The bistro Carmen had suggested was small. Tucked between a wine bar and a florist. Inside — warm wood, soft lighting, the quiet hum of conversation. 

Carmen had come here often when he worked in Copenhagen. Alone, usually. A place to breathe. 

But tonight wasn’t like those nights. Tonight, he was here with her. And Mila. 

Mila was already at the table, grinning. “Finally,” she said dramatically. “Was about to order without you.” 

They laughed as they sat. Here, there was no pretending. No hiding. Carmen’s hand slid over Y/N’s the moment they sat down, fingers lacing. His other hand rested on her thigh, thumb tracing slow circles — subtle, possessive in the softest way. 

Y/N leaned into him, brushing her head against his shoulder as they looked at the menu. “You missed this place?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Didn’t think I’d come back... not like this.” 

The food was simple but perfect — smoked trout with rye crisps, pickled vegetables, roasted lamb, and a tangy cloudberry tart to finish. 

Conversation flowed easy. Mila talked about her biotech job — the kind of thing that made Y/N laugh and shake her head. “Every time you explain it, it sounds fake,” she grinned. 

“It does sound fake,” Carmen added, squeezing Y/N’s knee under the table. 

Mila rolled her eyes. “Says the guy who spends 12 hours massaging octopus and fermenting stuff on purpose.” 

That made Y/N laugh — loud, free. She leaned into Carmen, hand covering his on her leg. “She’s got us there, Bear.” 

Carmen shook his head, smiling, thumb never stopping its slow, grounding circles on her thigh. 

There were kisses — soft, easy. A brush of lips when he leaned over. Her fingers tracing his wrist. Her hand on his cheek when she whispered something just for him. 

And maybe the best part — it felt normal. Right. Like this was how it was always meant to be. 

A quiet kind of happiness. A softness neither of them had felt in a long time. 

Mila zipped her coat against the wind when they stepped outside. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m leaving you here,” she grinned. “Got... plans.” Her wink said everything. “And you two deserve some privacy.” 

Y/N laughed, pulling her into a hug. “Thanks for tonight.” 

“Anytime. You two — enjoy.” Mila nudged Carmen’s arm. “Be nice to her, chef.” 

Carmen smiled, soft. “Yeah. Always.” 

And then it was just them. Walking back — hands tangled, shoulders bumping. The cold barely registered. Everything between them felt warm. Full. Whole. 

The moment the door closed behind them, the quiet shifted — not awkward. Just... weighted. Soft. 

It felt surreal. Being here. With her. No leaving tomorrow. No rushed goodbyes. 

Y/N tugged his jacket down his shoulders. “Come on,” she murmured, fingers threading through his. “Shower. You’ve been on a plane and in a kitchen half the day.” 

He followed. 

Steam filled the bathroom fast. Clothes fell away. 

Inside the shower, there wasn’t urgency. Not yet. Just hands. Warm. Familiar. Her fingers threaded through his hair, working in shampoo slow and gentle. Carmen stood still, eyes closed, hands resting on her hips as she tipped his head back to rinse. 

Her thumbs brushed behind his ears, along his jaw. She kissed the corner of his mouth — soft, quick. Couldn’t not. 

Palms dragged down his shoulders, chest, ribs — smoothing water over skin like it was something precious. 

And Carmen felt... softened. Safe. Like the tight knot inside him had finally unraveled. 

“I could do this every day, y’know?” he murmured. 

“Me too.” Her fingers combed back through his hair. “I love taking care of you.” 

By the time they fell into bed — damp hair, bare skin under soft sheets — the world outside didn’t exist. 

No rush. No frantic hands. Just... rediscovery. 

Fingers tracing collarbones, ribs, hips. Kisses pressed to every inch of skin — making up for all the touches they’d missed. 

Carmen cupped her face like he was scared she might disappear. His mouth brushed hers — slow. Reverent. His breath caught as her hands swept down his chest, grounding him. I’m here. You’re here. 

When he finally pushed into her, it wasn’t desperate. It was home. A soft gasp. A whispered curse. Hands gripping — not to take, but to hold. 

Murmurs between kisses — “Missed you.” “Feels so good.” “Don’t let go yet.” 

The kind of love where every movement said what words couldn’t — I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. 

When they collapsed together — tangled, breathless, skin pressed to skin — neither of them moved. His arms circled her tight. Her face tucked against his neck. 

Carmen kissed her hair, breathing her in. “Feels like I can finally breathe again,” he whispered. 

Y/N smiled against his chest. “Me too.” 

And when sleep finally pulled them under, they were still tangled together. Still holding on. Still home.

----

The next two days passed like a hazy, perfect loop — one neither of them wanted to end. 

Mornings were slow. Warm. Tangled bodies waking to soft kisses, lazy hands wandering — sometimes turning into something more before either of them even said good morning. 

Then coffee. Breakfast. Fingers brushing while slicing bread or cracking eggs. Quiet. Domestic. Easy. 

And then, work. 

Carmen wasn’t supposed to be working at Noma. Not really. He’d told himself that. Told her that. But five minutes in, his sleeves were rolled up, hands on a cutting board, helping like he’d never left. 

“Just helping out,” he muttered — half to her, half to himself. But helping turned into staying. Staying turned into… staying all day. 

At least it meant being close to her. 

When he wasn’t on a station, Carmen wandered — notebook in hand — scribbling thoughts for his training session. Checking techniques. Tasting sauces. Watching how the flow of the kitchen had shifted since his time here. 

It should’ve felt perfect. Working side by side. Sharing space again. Sneaking glances. Brushing hands when no one was looking. 

But it gnawed at him. 

Not because anything was wrong. Not really. 

It was the way she laughed sometimes — loud, unfiltered — head tipped back, eyes crinkled. The kind of laugh he hadn’t heard in months. The kind of laugh someone else got to hear every day. 

Luca. 

It wasn’t Luca’s fault. He liked Luca. Trusted him. 

Didn’t matter. 

His hands moved faster. Sharper. Shoulders tight. Knife hitting the board with a little too much force. 

This isn’t about Luca, he told himself. Not really. 

It was about him. About the fact that when this week ended, when Christmas dinner was done — he’d fly back to Chicago. Alone. 

And Luca? Luca got to stay. Got to be here. Beside her. Every day. 

That thought sat in his chest like a stone. Heavy. Immovable. 

Every night, when they got home — when her hands were on him, her mouth on him, when he was inside her — some cruel part of his brain still whispered: She’s here now... but not for long. 

It drove him insane. 

The workshop was going fine. Structured chaos. Systems under pressure. The kind of workflow that kept a kitchen alive when everything else fell apart. He should’ve been proud. 

But it was getting harder to focus. 

Every time her laugh echoed across the kitchen — not even directed at anyone in particular — his jaw tightened. His shoulders pulled up. Fingers tapping restless against the counter. 

Didn’t matter if it was Luca. Or someone else. 

Didn’t matter. 

Except — it did. 

During the hands-on segment — participants spread out, assembling dishes — Carmen stepped away. Not because he needed to. Because if he stood there another minute, watching, hearing... he was gonna lose it. 

He crossed the room. Stopped right in front of them. 

His voice wasn’t loud. Wasn’t sharp. But tight. Clipped. 

“Hey... could you—uh—keep it down a little?” His eyes flicked between them, landing heavier on her. “People are trying to listen. Don’t wanna... distract anyone.” 

It wasn’t the words. It was the weight behind them. Jaw locked. Fingers twitching at his apron. 

Y/N’s smile faded. Instantly. She knew. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Chef.” Her hand brushed his arm, gentle. “Didn’t mean to. If you need my help—” 

“It’s fine.” Too quick. Too sharp. He stepped back before her hand could settle. “It’s fine. Just... yeah.” 

Dismissive. Distant. 

Her eyes lingered on him for a beat. Something flickering. Hurt. Confusion. “Right. Okay.” 

Luca watched. Silent. Brows drawn, but didn’t say a word. 

Carmen turned away. Back to the knives. The food. The one thing that didn’t ask questions. 

Except none of it felt right anymore. His hands were steady. His head wasn’t. 

------ 

The train ride home felt heavier than it should. Not a word between them—at least not like before. Carmen sat stiff, elbow on the window, watching the dark landscape blur by like it could answer whatever was crawling under his skin. 

Y/N caught him looking at her more than once. Except… it wasn’t the kind of look he gave her the past few days. It was tighter. Guarded. Like he was fighting himself. Like he didn’t trust the words sitting on his tongue. 

She hated this. Hated how something had shifted between morning and now—and she hadn’t found the right moment to fix it. Not with other colleagues filling the train, chatting, laughing, oblivious to the silent tension tethering them. 

When they got off, the cold hit harder. Their steps matched on the pavement, but everything else felt out of sync. 

The apartment door shut behind them with a heavy, final click. Carmen didn’t move. Didn’t even take his coat off. He just stood there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw locked, staring at nothing. 

Y/N hovered by the kitchen counter, watching him, heart thudding. She could feel it—the tension radiating off him. It had started this morning. Had followed them through the kitchen all day. Through the train ride, where he barely looked at her. And now it was here, suffocating the air between them. 

“...Carm,” she tried, voice softer. “What’s—” 

“Are you… like… into him or something?” His voice was quiet. Almost flat. Too quiet. 

Her breath caught. “What?” 

He blinked, jaw ticking. Didn’t look at her. “Luca.” He shrugged, a small, ugly movement. “It’s just… the way you laugh with him. I don’t know. I—” His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, harsh. “I don’t—I don’t know what that is.” 

Her eyes widened, stunned. “Carmen, are you serious right now?” 

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know. Maybe.” His voice broke around the edges. “I just—” He finally looked at her, eyes sharp, hurt, like he hated even saying it. “Just—do you wanna fuck him? Or what?” 

“What the fuck, Carm—no.” Her voice cracked, full of disbelief and something sharper—something wounded. “You—you don’t get to say that to me.” 

“I know.” He shoved his hands through his hair, pacing now. “I know. I fucking know, I just—” His hands dropped, helpless. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. This… this halfway thing. This waiting thing.” His voice trembled, breaking open at the seams. “I wake up here with you and it’s—it’s everything. And I—I gotta go back to Chicago in three days, and you—you stay here. With him.” 

“It’s not about him,” she snapped, voice shaking. “It’s never been about him.” 

He nodded, fast, like he heard her but it didn’t fix the wound. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know.” His voice went smaller. “It’s not. It’s not about him. It’s about… it’s about how long I’m supposed to wait for you to… decide.” 

“Decide what?” 

He looked at her like it hurt to breathe. “If you’re ever gonna come back. If you want… this. With me.” He stepped closer, eyes glossy, hands shaking. “I can’t—I can’t do this again. I thought I could. Last summer you said… you said you needed to stay. Needed to finish this.” His throat worked around the words. “I told myself it was fine. I told myself… ‘you love her, so you wait.’” His hand pressed to his chest, like he could hold the feeling in place. “But now—being here. Waking up together. Working together. Fighting about stupid shit. Coming home to each other. I just—I can’t go back to waiting. Not again. Not after this.” 

Silence. Just breathing. Just the thrum of something unbearable sitting between them. 

And then softer, smaller—terrifyingly raw: “I love you. I love you so much it… it fucking hurts.” His voice cracked on it. “And I can’t—I can’t go back there without you. I can’t do it anymore.” 

Y/N’s lips parted, chest squeezing. “...Carmen…” Her throat tightened. “Are you—Does it mean… if I don’t come back… this is over?” 

He dragged both hands over his face, frustrated, panicked. “I don’t know. I don’t—I don’t wanna say that. I don’t.” His voice dropped, strained. “But maybe. Yeah. Because this—this right here—this is what I want. Not… visits. Not calls.” His hand cut through the air like he was trying to shape the words. “I want to build something with you. At The Bear. In Chicago. You and me. Together.” His voice splintered. “Not just... not just when it fits.” 

He exhaled, ragged. “Sydney’s leaving. I need someone I trust. I need someone good. I need you. The restaurant needs you. I’m not just asking you to come back for me. It’s... it’s your place too. We can make it work.” 

The silence pressed in. Tight. Suffocating. 

Her fingers gripped the counter edge like it was the only thing keeping her steady. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. 

“Carmen… I—” Her voice cracked, raw. “I don’t know if I can just… pack everything and go. I don’t know if this is me... choosing for me. Or if it’s...” Her throat closed. “If it’s just... because of you. Because of... us.” 

Carmen flinched — barely, but she saw it. His shoulders tensed. His jaw locked. But his eyes — soft, wide — didn’t leave her. He shook his head a little, like he didn’t know how to even start. “No, no, that’s... that’s not what this is,” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. “It’s not, it’s... fuck, it’s not that. I swear.” 

He dragged a hand through his hair, restless. Fingers trembled. 

“I wouldn’t—” He swallowed. Tried again. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t real. If it... if I didn’t... believe in you. In what you do. Who you are. You—you’re the person I trust the most. In a kitchen. In—” He cut himself off. Blinked. “In everything.” 

His hands hovered halfway, like he wanted to reach for her, didn’t dare. His mouth opened, then closed again. “I’m not... I’m not asking you to... give anything up, okay? I’m not. I just—” His eyes dropped. “Just come try. A few months. Just... try it. See how it feels. And if it’s not...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If it’s not right... then... we figure it out. Alright? We... we figure it out.” 

Her throat tightened. Her chest felt too small for her ribs. “I love you,” she breathed. Quiet. Shaky. “I love you so much.” It hit her like a punch, how true it felt. “And... I do want this. I want this life. I just…” She dragged a hand through her hair, pressing her knuckles to her mouth for a second. “I need to be sure I’m doing it for me. Not because I’m scared of losing you. Not because it’s... easier to follow you than figure it out.” 

His shoulders sagged, but not in relief — like it winded him. Carmen nodded a little. Jaw tense. Staring at the floor. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah. Okay.” His hand pressed against his mouth, then dropped. “I get that. I do.” But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. 

Something shifted. Like something in him just... shut halfway. Not slammed closed, but... pulled back. Guarded. 

His phone buzzed against the counter. Then again. 

Carmen flinched, glanced over. Checked it like he wasn’t really checking it. “Uh...” He dragged a hand over his forehead. “I... uh... I told some of the guys... some old kitchen colleagues... that I might come out tonight. Just, uh... beers. Catch up.” His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the counter. “Didn’t think you... didn’t think you’d wanna come or...” He trailed off. Didn’t finish. 

“Oh.” Her arms crossed, automatic. A shield. “Yeah. No. Sure. Go.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah.” His thumb tapped the edge of the counter. “I should... get ready.” 

“Yeah.” 

Neither of them moved. The air felt... brittle. Not angry. Not cold. Just... like one wrong word and it’d crack wide open. 

Carmen pushed away from the counter. “I won’t be long,” he said, voice softer. “It’s... just a couple guys. Couple beers. That’s it.” But it felt like he was reassuring himself more than her. 

“Okay.” 

He nodded again, but his hands were in fists. His jaw tight. When he passed her on the way out of the kitchen, his shoulder almost brushed hers — almost — but didn’t. 

The door clicked shut. And the distance swallowed the rest. 

The silence felt suffocating. The kind that rings in your ears. The kind that presses on your ribs. 

Y/N stood there, still gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The door had clicked shut a minute ago, but it echoed louder than anything Carmen had actually said. 

She pressed her palms flat to the countertop, head hanging between her shoulders, breath coming sharp and shallow. 

Then— A throat cleared. 

She blinked. Turned. 

Mila was leaning against the hallway doorframe. Hands crossed over her chest. Barefoot, hair tied up, oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder — but her eyes were wide, serious. Watching. 

“I—” Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. 

“Yeah. I, uh...” Mila raised her brows. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but... thin walls. Paper thin, babe.” She tipped her head. “Also. You guys weren’t exactly whispering.” 

A weak, dry laugh caught in Y/N’s throat — more like an exhale. She dragged her hands over her face, palms pressing to her eyes. “Jesus Christ.” 

Mila pushed off the doorframe, padded toward her. “You okay?” 

“No.” Y/N dropped her hands, sagged against the counter. “Not even a little.” 

Mila leaned her hip against the kitchen island. “That was... a lot.” 

“Right?” 

A beat. Just the hum of the fridge filling the silence. 

Then Mila said, softer, “You wanna... talk about it?” 

Y/N blinked hard, chest pulling tight. “I don’t even know what to say. I mean—he’s not wrong. Not completely. I’ve been... avoiding the decision.” Her arms crossed over her ribs, squeezing. “I didn’t want to face it. Because if I stayed here... I’d lose him. But if I went... what does that say about me? About how I got here?” 

Mila sighed. “Y/N... look at me.” She waited until Y/N did. “You didn’t get here because of him. You didn’t build this career because of him. You got here because you’re insane. Like, unhealthily dedicated. Annoyingly good at what you do.” Her mouth tugged into a smile. “Carmen didn’t make you. You made you.” 

Y/N’s throat tightened. “Then why does it still feel like... like leaving is... giving something up?” 

“Because it is,” Mila said, without sugarcoating. “It’s a trade. Doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one.” She nudged Y/N’s shoulder with hers. “Babe... you’re allowed to want him. You’re allowed to want the life. The routine. The restaurant. That doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t erase everything you’ve done.” Her voice softened. “But you gotta ask yourself... are you running toward it? Or are you just afraid of losing him?” 

The words sat heavy. Real. Too real. 

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “...Both. I think. I’m terrified of losing him. But... also... this week? Waking up together. Working. Fighting. Coming home. Cooking. Just... existing. I haven’t felt this... right... in a long time.” 

Mila’s smile grew softer. “Then maybe that’s your answer.” 

A shaky breath. “What if I go and... I hate it? What if it’s the wrong call?” 

“Then you come back.” Mila shrugged, simple. “You’re not marrying Chicago. You’re not marrying The Bear. You’re just... trying it out. If it sucks, you leave. You figure it out.” 

Y/N swallowed hard. Eyes stinging. “Yeah.” 

Mila gave her a softer shove. “Look. You are the smartest, most stubborn, most capable person I know. If you decide to go... it won’t be because of him. It’ll be because you chose it.” 

Y/N nodded — small, but solid. “Guess so.” 

Her voice wasn’t steady. Not yet. But something was settling. Quietly. 

Mila squeezed her arm. “I’m around if you need to... I don’t know. Spiral. Process. Or drink about it.” 

A quiet breath — not quite a laugh, but close. “Thanks, Mils.” 

Mila lingered for a beat longer, like she might say more — then seemed to think better of it. “Okay. I’m... gonna give you some space.” She backed toward her room, shooting one last glance over her shoulder. “Just... don’t forget who the fuck you are, alright?” 

“Got it.” Y/N managed a crooked smile. “Loud and clear.” 

When Mila disappeared down the hallway, the apartment went quiet. Not the heavy, suffocating kind from before — but quieter in a different way. 

Y/N stood there for a long moment. Hands braced against the kitchen counter. Breathing. 

Just breathing. 

Everything felt... too big and too small at the same time. Like her chest couldn’t hold it. Like her skin couldn’t. 

She tipped her head back, closed her eyes. 

God. 

Her fingers flexed against the counter’s edge. Then loosened. 

It didn’t feel like clarity. Not exactly. But it felt... steady. 

Her eyes drifted to the window — city lights blinking against the black glass. Cold air pressing against the frame. 

And for the first time tonight, the silence didn’t feel like drowning. 

It felt... like space. 

----- 

She wasn’t asleep. Not even close. Just lying there. On her side. Back to the door. Staring at the wall. Listening. 

The front door clicked open — quiet, careful. Then the soft thud of shoes kicked off. The rustle of his jacket. The slow shuffle of someone trying not to be loud... but failing anyway. 

Water ran. The bathroom light glowed under the door. A quick shower. Maybe to sober up. Maybe just to wash the weight of the night off his skin. 

The door creaked open again. Footsteps padded in. Hesitant. 

She squeezed her eyes shut — pretending. Listening. 

The sound of him grabbing his pillow. The day blanket. A shift of fabric. 

Then — footsteps again. Leaving. Heading for the couch. 

Her chest pulled tight. “...Where are you going?” 

His steps halted. Silence. 

“I just thought...” His voice was rough. Tight. Edges frayed. “Figured... you’d wanna... space. I’ll... take the couch.” 

She rolled over. Slowly. Found him standing there — pillow in one hand, blanket in the other. Looking like he had no idea what to do with himself. 

“Don’t,” she said. Soft, sure. “Just... stay. Sleep here.” 

A pause. His knuckles flexed against the pillow. Then — a quiet sigh. Shoulders sagging. 

The blanket hit the floor. He crawled onto the bed — careful. Cautious. Like the mattress might break under the weight of everything unsaid. 

He stayed on his side. Flat on his back. Hands crossed over his chest. Staring at the ceiling like it might hold answers. 

The air was thick. Dense. Words sat between them, heavy and swollen. Neither knew how to pull the thread. 

But then — unexpectedly — he broke first. 

“I...” His voice cracked. A shallow breath. “I’m sorry.” Barely a whisper. “For... the thing earlier. With... Luca. That was... that was fucked. That’s not...” His hand dragged over his face, palm against his mouth. “That’s not who I... I don’t wanna be that guy.” 

She didn’t answer. Just watched him — the tension in his shoulders, the twist of guilt in his mouth. 

“And... I pushed you. With Chicago. With... all of it.” His fingers knotted together over his chest. “I didn’t mean to... trap you. Or... or make it feel like you weren’t... like you didn’t fucking earn this. I hate that. I hate that I made you feel that way.” 

A rough breath punched out of him. “I was... selfish. I just... I wanted it. Wanted this. Wanted you. So bad.” 

His voice thinned at the edges — that soft, slurry rasp he only got when he was worn thin, cracked open. 

“I get it if you can’t. If it’s not right. I get it. I swear I get it. I just...” His hands fumbled, searching for something invisible in the air. “I don’t know how to... how to do this right.” 

Her chest ached. 

She shifted. Scooted a little closer. Not touching. Just... closing the gap. Letting the warmth between them hum back to life. 

“Y’know...” Her voice was gentle. Steady. “I think we’re both just... trying our best.” 

Carmen turned his head — slow. Met her eyes in the dark. His were glassy. A little unfocused. A little red around the edges. 

“...Doesn’t feel like it,” he rasped. 

She shook her head, small but firm. “That’s kinda what this is, isn’t it? Messing up. Saying what we feel, even if it’s messy. So we don’t stay stuck. So we figure it out.” 

Her fingers twitched against the sheets. Then she gave in — reached for him. Pulled him in. 

He didn’t resist. Let himself fold into her, like the tension snapped clean out of his bones. Shoulders sagging. His face tucked into her neck, breath shaking like he wasn’t sure if he should cry or laugh or just breathe her in. 

“And...” she whispered, lips brushing his temple, “especially if we’re dumb enough to try working together again.” 

For a second — nothing. Just the sound of his breath catching. His head pulling back — eyes scrunching, blinking like his brain glitched. “Wait... what?” 

She tipped her chin toward the corner. “Over there.” 

He followed her gaze. Two bags. Half-packed. Sitting quietly like they’d always been there. 

It hit him like a punch. 

“Wait... wait, wait—” His voice tripped over itself. “What... you... you already... you packed?” 

“Started earlier,” she murmured. Tried to play it casual. Failed. “Thought maybe... I’d fly out. Stay in Chicago for... I don’t know. Six months. Maybe longer. See how it feels.” Her hand skimmed his jaw. “Pretty sure I gotta be there to sign a contract anyway.” 

Carmen blinked. Jaw slack. Genuinely malfunctioning. “Wait—seriously? You’re... you’re serious?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Like... actually coming.” 

“I’m coming.” 

His mouth opened. Closed. His hand dragged through his hair. His chest rose and fell too fast. “Holy shit. Holy shit, you’re... you’re coming.” 

She grinned, eyes warm. “If that’s... still okay with you.” 

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. 

He surged forward — kissed her like he couldn’t breathe without it. Messy. Off-center. Hands fumbling like he was terrified she might vanish if he didn’t hold her close enough. 

“Babe—” he mumbled against her lips. His hands cupped her face, slid down her sides, gripping like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Fuck, I want you so bad right now—” 

“Yeah?” she grinned, breathless, laughing against his mouth. “Didn’t notice.” 

His laugh was ragged, shaky. Half-relief, half-desperation. “I love you,” Carmen rasped, dragging her back to him, kissing her harder.

Her hands tangled in his hair, her smile breaking between kisses. “I love you too, Bear.” 

The air shifted. Heavy. Warm. Full. 

Yeah. Tomorrow, they’d figure everything else out. 

But tonight? 

Tonight, it was just them. 

@coffeemin, @huh01011, @mryuyux, @nojamsonmytoast, @just-mj-or-not, @ravenouswild, @hipothetical-introvert, @yousigned-upforthis, @dayluxe, @hello-therree, @you-sunshine, @iloveramensm, @lazygirljulia, @ariiireads, @carmenberzattosgf, @nerawrites, @johnmurphys-sass, @zorrasucia, @j23r23, @sithdaya, @bexxs, @toowastelandtale, @gflrs, @bumb-lesy, @justbecause6, @juulifandom, @daisy-the-quake, @itsmadamehydra, @pfudorqueen, @asuperconfusedgirl, @jingjingyi, @sewerrat7984, @6-noir, @criesinlies, @beingalive1, @sydapril15, @cannonindeez, @smthgsmthgidk, @nommingonfood, @drowsyhobiiiidddd, @ssopeworld, @crazygirlinthisworld, @leminjelly, @carmysprincess, @zoenighshade555, @lostgirl219, @daydream-believer19, @longlivedelusion, @itskybabes-blog, @uwuuuuooo, @reengard, @devoutprincess, @forevercaffeinated-lee, @shannonbelle1457, @writttinggggggggggg, @undf-stuff, @tyferbebe, @spiderstyles04, @almostuniquecherryblossom, @justabovewater20, @silas-aeiou

[spellbinding10]

vander twt links

Notes: hehehehe daddy vander. Once again, these are not all guys that look like Vander (it is so hard to find good muscular guy content), exactly, but they give the vibe/are up to stuff I could very much imagine vander getting up to. You need to be logged into X to view these links. None of the videos are mine. Warnings/Rating: male x female videos, fingering, anal, choking, manhandling, unprotected PiV sex, cunnilingus, squirting, size kink, creampie | 18+ MDNI

Masterlist | y!silco edition | jayce edition

† he's amazed you can fit him

† you can't come into work in such a small dress

† those pyjamas are too cute on you to ignore

† he loves seeing how big he is compared to you

† he can't wait to see you pregnant

† he tries to take it slow, but can't help himself

† watching you try to ride him is such fun

† his fingers are just as fun

† you have to stay quiet so the kids don't hear you (and fail)

† the bar is the best place to have you

† he's so obsessed with breeding you

† there's no better feeling than being full of him

† sometimes you're both too tired, but he can't help himself

[spellbinding10]

IN THE DARK

he shouldn’t want her like this. shouldn’t crave the girl who constantly challenged him, undermined him, humiliated him in front of everyone. but her mouth was always sharp, and her body even sharper. she was fire and venom, and when she finally let him in—literally, painfully, perfectly in—he realized losing to her never felt so fucking good. she was cocky, clever, impossible. and tonight, she was his.

pairing: Draco Malfoy x f!rival!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, Hogwarts-era

tw: MDNI 18+, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex (broom closet), rough sex, gagging (tie), power dynamics, possessive Draco, filthy talk, overstimulation, denial, post-orgasm tenderness, he’s so gone for her it’s embarrassing

part one- In Spite of Everything

Tag: @jasminedragoon

It wasn’t nothing.

Merlin help him—it never had been.

Draco Malfoy was slowly, painfully, and irrevocably coming to terms with a truth he’d spent years avoiding: he had a crush. A real, consuming, all-encompassing crush. On her. On the girl who had been a thorn in his side since first year. The girl who challenged him without fear, whose wit was sharper than a blade, who rolled her eyes at him like it was a reflex. She was maddening—brilliant, insufferable, untouchable. And yet, somehow, he wanted her more than he wanted air.

It was pathetic, really. He saw her in the corridors—hair a little messy, tie loosened, wearing one of those oversized jumpers that swallowed her frame—and his breath caught like a child’s. Every time she smiled, especially when it wasn’t at him, something twisted in his chest. Something raw and reckless. He told himself it was just lust, that he’d grow out of it. That it wasn’t real.

But it was. It was real.

He’d catch glimpses of her across the Great Hall and pretend he wasn’t looking, pretend he wasn’t dissecting every glance she gave someone else. Every excuse to talk to her became a strategy. A carefully constructed trap. And one day, in Potions, he gave in.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he murmured as he appeared beside her like a shadow, heart racing beneath a perfectly tailored robe.

Her potion was flawless—of course it was. She was annoyingly good at everything. But Draco didn’t care. He just needed her to look at him.

She turned her head, brows raised, lips twitching with that familiar, smug glint. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I ask for commentary?”

He leaned closer, dangerously close, under the guise of checking her cauldron. His voice dropped, low and deliberate, almost brushing her ear. “It’s wrong. Trust me.”

She stiffened but didn’t move away. “You smell terrible,” she said, too quickly. Her voice trembled at the edges.

Draco smiled—slow and knowing. “Liar.”

He knew she was lying. He always smelled good. Clean, expensive cologne and a hint of cinnamon from breakfast—she noticed. She had to. And in that moment, with her breath ghosting across his skin and her eyes flaring with something unspoken, Draco knew he was doomed.

He thought about her that night. And the next. And every night after, until his pillow became a poor substitute for her skin and his imagination cruelly vivid.

And now—now it was nearly midnight, and Draco was prowling through the castle like some lovesick cliché. His robes billowed behind him, dramatic and theatrical and entirely on purpose. He told himself he was just clearing his head, but the truth was simple: he hoped he'd see her.

Fate had a sick sense of humor.

She appeared from the corridor opposite, lit by flickering candlelight. She moved with purpose, wand swinging gently at her side, expression focused. Her eyes found his immediately. Always too perceptive.

“Draco,” she greeted, cool and composed, like she wasn’t the centre of his universe.

“First-name basis,” he drawled. “I’m touched.”

She rolled her eyes. He felt it in his spine. “You’re unbearable. Do you try to be this insufferable or is it just natural?”

He arched a brow, let a lazy smirk curl across his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I’m naturally good at?”

You. You, in every fucking way. The thought hit hard. Too hard.

She crossed her arms and his eyes dropped—traitorously—to the way it pushed her tits up. He bit the inside of his cheek. Control. He needed control.

“No. I wouldn’t.” She sniffed. “You’re such a teenage boy, Malfoy.”

Before he could respond—something biting or desperate or maybe both—footsteps echoed down the corridor. A professor. Heavy, measured, getting closer.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Without hesitation, Draco reached for the nearest broom cupboard, yanked the door open, and pulled her inside with him.

She gasped as they stumbled into darkness.

It was cramped. Warm. Too warm. Her body was right there, chest brushing his, her scent intoxicating. Ink, vanilla, and something sweeter—something hers. His head swam.

“What the hell are you—” she began, but he clapped a hand gently over her mouth, palm firm and fingers splayed across her cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his breath brushing the curve of her face. “Just this once, try not talking.”

Her glare was blistering even in the dark, but she didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. And then he felt it—her hands, pressed against his abdomen, grounding herself. Warm and uncertain.

“You’re touching me,” he murmured, voice quiet but loaded.

“I thought you were the wall,” she muttered.

A breath of laughter escaped him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He let his hand drop from her mouth to her waist. Then lower, to her hip. She tensed—but didn’t stop him. So he pulled her closer, until the space between them was gone.

“Shut up,” she whispered, almost like a confession.

Then her fingers hooked around his tie and yanked.

And her lips crashed into his.

Draco’s world exploded.

She kissed him like he was the only solid thing in a world of smoke and mirrors. He kissed her like he’d been waiting his whole damn life. His hands found her hips, gripping tightly, anchoring her to him, grinding his hardness into the soft heat of her center.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently, drawing a low groan from his throat. He barely realized he was walking her backwards until her spine met the wall and she gasped against his lips.

His mouth moved down to her neck—fevered, hungry. He kissed and nipped and sucked, already imagining the marks he was leaving. His name spilled from her lips like a secret.

“Draco…”

He groaned, hips bucking once—sharp and desperate.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, darling,” he breathed against her pulse, voice ragged. “Can’t have Flitwick catching us while you’re saying my name like that.”

She whimpered—soft and high—and he felt it like a curse. Her thighs trembled under his touch.

Then his fingers slid up, ghosting under her skirt, cupping her over her panties. Damp. Soaked. For him. His smirk faltered, replaced by something more reverent.

“Oh, love. That’s all for me?”

“Shut up,” she breathed, trembling as he hooked her underwear aside and slipped a finger inside.

Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Oh—Merlin—”

“Careful,” he whispered, adding a second finger, curling them just right, “You’ll get us caught, baby.”

He brought his other hand to her mouth, muffling her gasp, whispering praise into her ear as he moved his fingers in and out. She clenched around him, clawing at his shirt, her thighs quivering.

“Draco,” she panted into his palm, voice muffled. “I—I need you. Please.”

He swore under his breath. He would’ve given her the bloody moon if she’d asked like that.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice shaking. “Yeah, okay.”

He pulled his fingers from her—slow, reluctant, savoring every inch. She whimpered at the loss. His belt was a blur, his zipper louder than it should’ve been. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he said softly, reverently, tugging her panties down her legs. “Hands on the wall.”

She obeyed, breathless.

And Draco Malfoy, prince of cold sarcasm and sharp tongues, was gone—utterly, ruinously hers.

He pushed in slowly at first, his breath catching the moment her slick warmth enveloped him, tight and pulsing, like her body was trying to keep him out—and pull him in at the same time.

Draco’s head dropped forward, his forehead pressing between her shoulder blades, the air punched from his lungs. "Fuck. You’re—bloody hell, you’re tight. Relax for me, love,” he murmured, voice strangled, trying not to lose it too fast. Her cunt squeezed around him, trembling and hot, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from giving in right then and there.

“You’re…” she started, but the words dissolved into a gasp—a broken, choked sound—because Draco couldn’t wait anymore. With a rough snap of his hips, he buried himself in her to the hilt, every inch of his thick cock sheathed in her heat. The sudden fullness made her cry out, her back arching instinctively, pressing her ass flush against his hips.

Draco groaned against her spine. She was unreal.

He didn’t start slow—couldn’t. His restraint had long since evaporated. He set a brutal, steady rhythm, rutting into her with deep, measured thrusts that had the wooden shelves beside her rattling in protest. His hand found her waist, fingers digging into her skin like he needed proof she was real. With every slam of his hips, her body jolted against the wall, her moans echoing softly in the cramped, dark space.

“Listen to you,” he rasped, mouth by her ear now. “Making those pretty little sounds—just for me. You love this, don’t you?”

She whimpered—neither confirmation nor denial—but the way she clenched around him was answer enough.

His hand slid around her front, slipping down her belly, until his fingers found her clit. He didn’t tease. He couldn’t. Instead, he rubbed fast, tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing her toward the edge, her gasps climbing into a desperate cadence.

“Draco,” she moaned, her cheek pressed against the stone wall, eyes glassy, mouth slack.

“Open your mouth, darling,” he whispered, voice thick with possession and something far more tender he didn’t dare name.

She obeyed, lips parting obediently—so trusting—and he balled up his green Slytherin tie and slid it between her teeth, muffling the sounds he was sure would get them caught. He looked at her, really looked—her flushed cheeks, her eyes fluttering shut, that damned jumper pushed up above her hips, her mouth full of his tie—and he swore, low and reverent.

“Can’t have you getting us caught now, can we?” he murmured, before gripping her hips again and driving back into her with a force that nearly knocked her forward. She gasped around the fabric, her knuckles whitening as she braced herself on the wall.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, head falling to her shoulder, hips rolling against her with steady, ruthless power. “So. Fucking. Good.” He punctuated each word with a rough thrust that made her legs shake and her whimpers break into stuttered sobs of pleasure.

He looked up, eyes dragging over her face. Her lashes were damp, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks, and her brows were knit with overwhelmed ecstasy. His tie—his fucking tie—was clutched between her teeth, soaked with spit and moans, and it might’ve been the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. She looked ruined. His.

The tight coil inside him wound tighter, but he bit it back. Not yet. Not until she comes first.

And she was close. He could feel it—the way she pulsed around him, the trembling in her thighs, the desperate flex of her fingers against the stone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself. The words left him like a confession, fragile and raw.

Her body jerked.

“Cum for me,” he breathed into her hair. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

And she did.

Her back arched, hips stuttering, body going rigid around him as she broke apart in his arms. She clenched around him like a vice, her cunt fluttering and squeezing in rhythmic waves that pulled a guttural moan from Draco’s throat. Her muffled cries spilled around the tie, her whole body trembling as her orgasm rolled through her.

Draco held her up as she sagged against the wall, arms firm around her waist, and then—then—he let go. One final thrust, hard and deep, and he came with a strangled gasp, burying himself in her as he spilled inside, hot and thick. His vision whited out. His whole world narrowed to the feel of her—soft and wet and trembling around him—and the sound of both their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence.

They didn’t move for a long time.

Their bodies stayed locked together, her chest rising and falling beneath his, his forehead still resting against the curve of her shoulder. His release slowly dripped down her thighs, and some of it had already soaked into his boxers and the waistband of his slacks. He didn’t care. He was floating.

Eventually, Draco reached up with trembling fingers and gently pulled the tie from her mouth, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. She turned her head slightly, eyes still half-lidded, lips swollen from their kisses.

She whispered, soft and quiet: “I lied.”

He blinked, still hazy. “Hm?”

“Earlier. In Potions. When I said you smell awful.” Her voice was barely audible now, but it cut through the air like glass. “I lied.”

Draco let out a low, breathless laugh, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her skin was damp, flushed, smelling like sex and sweat and something perfect. “I knew it,” he murmured, smiling into her skin.

He was so fucking screwed.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

Sooooo😄 this was something. Also I genuinely BELIEVE Draco would smell divine and NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE

[spellbinding10]

Draco Malfoy [Rottenherbs masterlist ₊⊹]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ [HP masterlist] ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A Promise Worth Keeping (꩜ At the final quidditch match of the season, you take a serious blow enshrining a win for Slytherin; but a certain blonde haired seeker makes sure to check on you in the infirmary // 1.7k // Fluff! Mention of Injury and blood) Seating Arrangement (pt.2) (𖦹 Late to potions and the only seat left was next to Malfoy. Were you able to keep up with the Slytherin prince or will this ruin any chances of a good first impression? // 1.2k ) Overprotective ( ꩜ toxic! Draco getting jealous over his Ravenclaw! reader girlfriend // 595 // Possessiveness, Public altercation) Trouble In The Library (𖦹 You liked helping your friends with their class work, but Draco saw it differently // 1.3k // Fluff, Slight Angst, Crying) Swapping Secrets and Spit (NSFW) (꩜ You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? // 2.9k // Sexual Content, Cock Teasing, Oral stimulation (f/m), Face Fucking) “I will get him to smile again” (pt.2) (𖦹 Draco isn’t looking too good. He’s been withdrawn for a while with his fight and continuous secrets he will have to keep in the upcoming year. You make it your personal mission to bring back his smile// 824 // Pining, flirting) The Muggle Way (꩜ muggleborn!fem!reader and Draco moving in together in their established relationship // 658 // Fluff ) Rest ( 𖦹 Sleepy Draco falling asleep on reader // 685 // Fluff, sweet intimacy) The Hound (꩜ fem!reader heading to bed after a shower, and she sees Draco on their bed moving his Patronus around the room // 1k // fluff) Christmas with Muggles (𖦹 Draco being girlfriend!reader’s date to her work’s Christmas party that is full of muggles // 2k // Muggle! adult life, Fluff) NYE Headcanon (꩜ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) A Couple Firsts (𖦹 “You just need a strong lead” // 1.5k // Yule Ball!) Secret Relationship! HC (꩜ Headcanons having a secret relationship with Draco) Secrets of Prefects (𖦹 You and Draco share a secret, passionate relationship while pretending to hate each other in public. As your connection deepens, you both struggle with the tension between your forbidden desire the consequences of keeping your affair hidden // 2.3k // Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Secret Affair, Making out, Pining) Clouded Sunrays (꩜ draco x hufflepuff!reader // grumpy x sunshine // 2k Dreamweaver (𖦹 Draco Malfoy begins dreaming of a girl he’s never seen before. At first, it’s fleeting. Then it becomes constant. He’s never spoken to her in real life—or seen her for that matter — he’s sure of it. So why does she feel more real than anything else? // 3.2k // Time Split, Slowburn, Angst) Love on the Silver Screen (pt.2) (pt.3) (꩜ Draco Malfoy x Actress! Reader // After the war, Draco Malfoy secretly falls for a Muggle actress whose films become his only escape from the hollow life he’s trapped in. When he’s forced to attend a wizarding convention, he’s stunned to discover that you’re not only real but a witch, throwing his carefully built walls into chaos. // 1.8k

[spellbinding10]

The Emperor of Magic | Masterlist

Summary: More feared than the Shadow Summoner himself and more powerful than the Sun Summoner could even imagine, the Emperor of Magic is the only known human to be able to manipulate magic. Having only been a myth up until this point, Kaz Brekker sets out to take her captive in hopes of making himself rich in the process…

Warning: +18 Warning, mentions of gruesome deaths, person held captive and tortured, lots of angst, swearing, mentions of blood and injuries

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[spellbinding10]

The Emperor of Magic | Masterlist

Summary: More feared than the Shadow Summoner himself and more powerful than the Sun Summoner could even imagine, the Emperor of Magic is the only known human to be able to manipulate magic. Having only been a myth up until this point, Kaz Brekker sets out to take her captive in hopes of making himself rich in the process…

Warning: +18 Warning, mentions of gruesome deaths, person held captive and tortured, lots of angst, swearing, mentions of blood and injuries

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[spellbinding10]

art of letting go, kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x tidemaker!reader

synopsis: Kaz decides that the best way to protect you from the dangers of his world is to let you go.

warning: angst

word count: 1.4k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ KETTERDAM WAS A CITY of shadows, where secrets were currency, and trust was a commodity too expensive for most. It was a city where survival meant hardening yourself against the world, and Kaz Brekker had mastered the art. But then you came along, slipping into the life of the Crows like a drop of water into the canals, altering the tides.

the city of endless shadows and sharp-edged deals, where the air was thick with smoke and greed, where people like you—soft-hearted, gentle-spirited—were swallowed whole. But you weren’t soft. Not anymore. The Little Palace had seen to that, had hardened you, shaped you into something more formidable, more dangerous. But still, Ketterdam wasn’t your home.

Kaz had found you in an alley, drenched and shivering, your Tidemaker powers slipping through your fingers like the rain that pooled at your feet. The darkness had been closing in, but Kaz had been there—his cane tapping against the cobblestones, his eyes assessing, calculating. You were powerful, that much was clear, and he was nothing if not opportunistic. He offered you a deal: safety from the Darkling in exchange for your skills. You had nothing left to lose, so you agreed.

For years now, you had been a Crow, woven into the fabric of Kaz Brekker’s schemes. You fought alongside him and saved his life and those of the other Crows more times than you could count. You weren’t made for the streets, but you had carved out a place for yourself, proving your worth time and time again.

But Kaz knew. He saw the way your eyes lingered on the few patches of sky visible between the buildings, the way you paused by the canals, longing for something more than this grimy, crime-ridden city. He noticed the way you touched your mother’s locket absentmindedly when you thought no one was watching, the way you hummed songs from Ravka when the world was quiet. Kaz noticed everything about you, and that was the problem.

Kaz Brekker didn’t have weaknesses. Not until you.

Kaz never allowed himself the luxury of weakness. He’d seen what it did to people, how it turned them into targets, how it left them broken. But you...you were different. You weren’t just another piece on his board, another tool to be used and discarded. You had become something more—something dangerous. You had become his weakness.

It infuriated him, how much he cared. He didn’t like it—this vulnerability that gnawed at him, this fear that kept him awake at night, worrying about your safety. He didn’t want to see you hurt, didn’t want to see the darkness of Ketterdam taint you, didn’t want to see tears in your eyes. His world was full of darkness, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you being dragged into it.

He hated how his heart stuttered whenever you smiled at him, the way his chest tightened when you frowned. Kaz wasn’t meant to feel these things—he had buried those emotions long ago, along with the boy he used to be. But you had brought them back, and it made him weak. It made him vulnerable.

Kaz Brekker didn’t do attachments. Attachment made him vulnerable, and vulnerability was something he couldn’t afford, not in this city, not with his enemies constantly watching, waiting for a single moment of weakness to strike.

And it didn’t take long for them to figure it out.

The first threat came in the form of a letter, slipped under his door. The second was more direct—a knife pressed to your throat during a routine job, the assailant whispering threats of what would happen if Kaz didn’t cooperate. You were unscathed, of course. You had power that made most men tremble, but that didn’t stop the fear that gripped Kaz’s heart when he saw the look in your eyes. The darkness that flickered there, the remnants of a fear you had long since buried.

He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t let you be tainted by his world, by the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn’t let you be hurt because of him. The last time he had let himself care for someone, it had ended in disaster. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen again.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He let you go.

It started small at first. Kaz began to ignore you, a difficult task when every fibre of his being screamed to be near you. But he forced himself to walk past you without a word, to pretend you were nothing more than a ghost in the halls of the Slat. you had frowned, tilting your head in confusion. It had nearly undone him, the way you looked at him as if you were trying to figure out what you had done wrong.

It tore at him, every time he saw that look on your face, every time he felt your eyes on him, questioning, hurting. But he couldn’t stop. He had to protect you, even if it meant breaking your heart in the process.

Then, he began to snap at you, finding fault in the smallest things. He’d scold you for a plan that didn’t go exactly as he wanted, even if the outcome was successful. He’d raise his voice when you asked questions, brushing off your concerns as if they were nothing. The hurt look in your eyes was like a knife to his chest, twisting deeper with each passing day. But he forced himself to look away, to harden his heart against the pain that gnawed at him.

The Crows noticed the change, of course. Jesper would shoot him questioning looks, Inej’s gaze filled with disappointment, and even Nina would try to talk to him about it. But Kaz deflected their concerns, his tone sharp and dismissive. They wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t. This was something he had to do. He had to protect you, even if it meant breaking his own heart in the process.

Kaz’s heart ached every time he saw the pain he caused you, but he told himself it was for the best. You were too good, too pure for this world. You didn’t belong in the shadows, and the longer you stayed, the more the darkness would seep into your soul. He didn’t want to see your eyes clouded with the same despair that haunted his every waking moment.

And then, finally, he let you go completely.

One night, after another gruelling heist, you finally confronted him. The others had gone, leaving the two of you alone in the Crow Club. You stood before him, your eyes searching his for answers.

“Kaz, what’s going on? Why are you treating me like this?” your voice was steady, but he could hear the tremor beneath it.

He didn’t look at you. Instead, he stared at the map on the table, the lines and figures blurring together as he tried to hold onto his resolve. “You’re slipping,” he said coldly. “You’ve been making mistakes—putting the entire crew at risk. I can’t have someone unreliable on my team.”

The words sliced through you like a knife. “Unreliable? I’ve saved all of you more times than I can count. You know I’m not—”

“You’ve been careless,” Kaz interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade. “You let your guard down, and it nearly cost us everything. I can’t afford that.”

You took a step back, disbelief and hurt flashing across your face. “You don’t mean that. I know you, Kaz. I know—”

“You don’t know anything,” he snapped, finally looking up at you. His gaze was icy, devoid of the warmth he’d once allowed you to see. “You’re a liability. Maybe it’s time you found somewhere else to be.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in with the weight of his words. “Kaz, please. Don’t do this.”

But he only turned away, his voice void of any emotion. “It’s already done.”

You stared at his back, hoping—praying—for some sign that this was all a lie, that the man who had taken you in, who had protected you, was still in there somewhere. But he gave you nothing.

After a moment, you nodded, though it took everything in you to force yourself to move. “Fine,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “If that’s what you want.”

Kaz turned away from you, his heart aching with every step you took away from him. He didn’t watch you leave. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he knew he’d break, and Kaz Brekker couldn’t afford to break. Not now. Not ever.

Kaz knew he had done the right thing—he had to protect you from the darkness that consumed him. But as the echoes of your voice lingered in the empty room, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

But it was too late now. Kaz Brekker didn’t make mistakes—he made choices. And this was the one he would have to live with.

[spellbinding10]

'Complicated' (part 16) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 6k notes: enjoy :)

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

@luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome

@hufflepuff-16 @lukepattersin @jay-is-a-pinguin

“So,” she continued, her words more deliberate now, “I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me. What now, Brekker?”

The admission hit Kaz like a tsunami, the raw honesty of her words crashing over him. The fight and the confusion seemed to dissolve in the face of her drunken declaration. His mind raced as he tried to process what she had just said. How had they arrived at this point, and what did it mean for them now?

Kaz leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for the truth behind her words. Despite her inebriation, he could see the sincerity in her eyes, the vulnerability that she often kept hidden. It was clear that she had come to him not just out of the need for refuge but to confront the feelings she had been grappling with.

Kaz studied Y/n with a mix of relief and anxiety as her confession sank in. The words she had just said, in her drunken but brutally honest state, were the ones he had both longed for and dreaded. They were finally out in the open, but the emotional messiness of the moment made it hard to process what came next. He had been waiting for clarity, and here it was wrapped in a veil of alcohol and vulnerability.

As he tried to gather his thoughts, Y/n filled the silence with a half-joking question, her tone light but her eyes earnest. “Are we going to hold hands and spend our Sundays at Ikea?”

Kaz’s lips curved into a soft smile. He reached out and took her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. “Sure, love.”

Y/n’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with humor and affection. “Fight over who has to do the laundry or the dishes?”

“Absolutely,” Kaz replied, his grip tightening slightly, savoring the closeness.

Leaning in closer, Y/n continued, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial whisper. “Burn all the steps and hate each other by the time we reach 40?”

Their noses almost touched, and Kaz could smell the faint, intoxicating trace of tequila on her breath. It was a heady mix of sweetness and sharpness that only added to the surreal quality of the moment.

Kaz cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Get a messy divorce?” he suggested, playing along.

“Fight for the custody of our children?” Y/n responded, her voice trembling with laughter and something deeper.

Kaz raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light despite the intensity of their conversation. “Are we having children now?” he asked with a laugh.

Y/n nodded seriously, her expression softening as she gazed up at him. “Of course, I want them.”

“Then yes,” Kaz whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion, “all of that.” He closed the remaining distance between them, gently pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the mess of their earlier confrontation. It was filled with unspoken promises and the depth of their mutual feelings, conveyed through the softness of their touch and the warmth of their embrace. In that moment, amidst the mess of their lives and the chaos of their emotions, they found a brief moment of clarity and connection. The world outside seemed to fall away as they shared this intimate, honest moment together.

Y/n lay back, dragging him down on top of her. Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, a mingling of relief and passion that neither had anticipated. Between their heated exchanges, she managed to murmur against his lips, “Am I your girlfriend now?”

“Yes,” Kaz replied without hesitation, the word sounding like a promise.

Y/n let out a small laugh, breathless and teasing. “At least ask me properly.”

Kaz paused, his lips hovering over hers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Marry me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, “Marry me, Y/n.”

She arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Get me a ring and I’ll consider it.”

Kaz smiled against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right under her jaw, making her shiver. “Consider it done,” he murmured, his hands tracing a path down her sides, memorizing every curve and dip.

Y/n’s laughter turned into a soft moan as his lips found her pulse point. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and longing.

Kaz pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’ve never been more serious,” he said, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I want everything with you, Y/n. The arguments, the messy mornings, the kids, the forever.”

She looked up at him, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her feelings. “I’m scared of forever,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Kaz’s expression softened. He took a deep breath, his fingers lightly tracing her jawline. “Then give me tomorrow,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute.

Y/n reached up, cupping his face with both hands, pulling him closer. “Tomorrow I can do,” she said, her lips brushing his in a tender, reassuring kiss.

Kaz’s heart swelled with emotion as he kissed her back, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her even closer. “I’ll ask you every day,” he murmured against her lips. 

Y/n nodded, her eyes closing as she savored the warmth of his embrace. “I’ve never had anyone want me like this,” she confessed. “It’s... terrifying.”

Kaz smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re worth the fear,” he whispered. “Every bit of it.”

They kept kissing, their movements becoming more urgent and filled with desire. As they shifted to stay more comfortable on the couch, Y/n wrapped her legs around Kaz's waist, pulling him closer. “I want you, Kaz, now,” she breathed against his lips.

Kaz grinned, his eyes darkening with need. “Do you want to get started on the kids part?” he teased, his voice low and husky.

Y/n snorted, her laughter blending with her growing arousal. “Before the wedding? No way,” she replied, her hands deftly working to unbutton his pants. Kaz's hands moved up her thighs, lifting her already short dress, exposing more of her to his touch.

Kaz's lips trailed down her neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that made Y/n shiver in anticipation. “Are you sure?” he whispered against her skin, his fingers teasing the edge of her underwear.

“Yes, Kaz,” she moaned softly, her body arching into his touch. “I need you.”

His hands became more insistent, tugging at the fabric of her underwear and pulling it down. Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the cool air against her skin, followed by the warmth of Kaz's hands as he touched her.

Their movements became a blur of passion and urgency. Kaz's pants were discarded, and Y/n's dress was pushed up further, allowing them to press even closer together. Kaz’s hand cupped her face, their eyes locking as he entered her in a single, smooth thrust.

Y/n gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the feel of him. Kaz groaned, his forehead resting against hers as they found a slow rhythm, their bodies moving in sync. Every kiss, every touch, was an affirmation of their feelings, a promise of the tomorrows they would share.

“Y/n,” Kaz murmured against her ear, his voice strained with desire. “I love you.” He kept repeating it, over and over, each time underlined with a slow thrust inside of her.

He felt her growing restless under him, her breaths coming faster and her body arching into his. “More, baby, please, faster,” she begged, her voice almost a whimper.

“No,” he said, kissing her forehead gently.

Y/n opened her eyes, frowning slightly. “What do you mean no?”

“No,” he repeated, looking deeply into her eyes. “You deserve so much more, love. All the time in the world. I want to take my time with you, to show you just how much you mean to me.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender. “I want to kiss every inch of your skin, to make you feel good as you deserve.”

He saw the blush deepen on her cheeks, her usual confident demeanor replaced by a shy vulnerability that made his heart swell. “Are you blushing?” he teased, his voice soft and warm.

“No,” she protested weakly, her lips curving into a shy smile, unable to hide her blush.

Kaz chuckled, leaning in to kiss her softly. “You are, and it’s adorable,” he whispered against her lips. “I love seeing you like this, vulnerable and beautiful.”

He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting their position to make her more comfortable. “I want to hear every sound you make, every gasp and moan. I want to feel you trembling beneath me, knowing that I’m the one making you feel this way.”

Kaz’s hands moved slowly over her body, his touch gentle yet possessive. “I want to memorize the way you look right now, flushed and needy. I want to remember how your eyes light up when you look at me, how your lips part in pleasure.”

He kissed her neck, trailing soft kisses down to her collarbone. “You deserve to be worshiped, Y/n. And that’s what I’m going to do, every single day.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Kaz,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

“Yes, love?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Kaz smiled, his heart aching with love for her. He could see how she was so used to having sex but not accustomed to being cared for, to being loved. The realization killed him a bit—Y/n, so strong and independent, coming undone because he was showing her tenderness, kindness. He wanted to give her the love and security she had missed out on, to be the person who made her feel safe.

As he held her, Kaz felt a fierce determination to change her perception of intimacy. He wanted her to associate it not just with physical pleasure but with emotional connection, trust, and genuine affection. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. I’m right here, and I’m never letting you go.”

As their bodies moved together, Kaz continued to whisper sweet words into her ear. “You’re everything to me, Y/n. I want to spend my life making you happy, making you feel loved.”

Y/n’s breath came in short gasps, her body arching into his touch. “Kaz, please,” she moaned, her voice a desperate plea.

Kaz hummed in satisfaction, relishing the control he had. He kept his slow, measured rhythm, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. “Please, love, give me more,” she pleaded between broken breaths.

Kaz increased his pace just enough to keep her on edge, watching how she arched and moved beneath him. “You're a show, love.”

“Just for you,” she replied, her voice trembling with need.

“Come for me, darling. I want to hear you,” he urged, his words guiding her closer to the edge.

Y/n’s breaths grew ragged, her nails digging deeper into his shoulders as the tension built inside her. “Kaz,” she moaned, her body tightening around him.

“That’s it, love,” Kaz whispered, his voice husky. “Let go for me.”

Her release hit her hard, her body trembling and her cries filling the room. Kaz watched her with a mix of awe and adoration, feeling her pleasure echo through him. But he was far from done.

As she came down from her high, he continued to move, his thrusts steady and insistent. “I’m not done with you,” he teased, his lips brushing against her ear.

Y/n shook her head, her breath still coming in gasps. “No, please don’t stop,” she whispered, her hands roaming over his back, pulling him closer.

Kaz kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth as he increased his pace again. His hands roamed over her body, savoring every inch of her. “I’m going to make you come again,” he promised against her lips.

Y/n’s body responded eagerly, her hips meeting his thrusts with renewed urgency. Each movement was a symphony of passion, their bodies perfectly attuned to one another. As the intensity grew, she gripped his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes, the connection between them deepening.

“Do you like it, Kaz? Being the one in control?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper, tightening her walls around him. The sensation made him hiss in pleasure, a raw sound escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his control slipping under her influence.

“Answer me,” she demanded, her eyes blazing with desire and challenge.

“Yes, yes I like it,” he admitted, his voice husky with need.

Y/n’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “How do you want me, love? Tell me,” she coaxed, her hands tracing over his chest, her touch both soothing and electrifying.

Kaz’s breath hitched, his mind racing with the possibilities. “From behind,” he said, his voice firm with decision. “Lean against the cushions of the couch.”

Y/n hummed in approval, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Someone has been studying,” she commented, her tone teasing but approving. She shifted positions, moving gracefully to comply with his request, her body arching enticingly as she leaned against the cushions.

Kaz watched her, his desire mounting as he took in the sight of her. The way her body curved, the soft light casting shadows that only highlighted her beauty. He moved behind her, his hands sliding over her hips, savoring the warmth of her skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before positioning himself.

Y/n looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes dark with anticipation. “Then show me, Kaz. Show me how much you want me.”

With a low growl, he entered her again, his movements less deliberate and controlled. He set a rhythm that was both slow and intense, while Y/n’s moans filled the room, a symphony that spurred him on.

His hands roamed over her back, caressing and exploring, each touch a testament to his desire. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

“I love you,” she replied, her voice breathless and sincere.

They moved together, the world outside fading away. Their breaths mingled, creating a rhythm that was both frantic and harmonious, the intensity between them growing with each passing second. Kaz’s pace quickened, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony, each thrust a testament to the passion that had built between them.

“More,” Y/n pleaded, her voice a breathless whisper, her body trembling with need.

Kaz responded immediately, increasing his pace, his movements becoming more urgent. His hands gripped her hips with a possessive intensity, each thrust deeper and more demanding. 

In a moment of raw, unrestrained desire, Kaz sank his teeth into her shoulder, the sharp sensation making Y/n scream, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent shivers down her spine. 

“Y/n,” Kaz murmured against her skin, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re everything.”

Her only response was a series of moans and gasps, her body arching to meet his every movement. The room seemed to pulsate with their shared energy, each sound, each breath a testament to their connection.

As their passion increased, Kaz felt himself losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic. He reached down, his fingers finding the sensitive spot that drove Y/n wild, applying just the right amount of pressure to send her over the edge.

“Kaz!” she cried out, her body convulsing around him as she reached her climax, the sensation was intoxicating, but he wanted more. "Another time, love? For me," Kaz whispered in her ear, his voice a mixture of desperation and longing.

Y/n turned to look at him, her eyes glazed and lost in the intensity of their connection. "Really?" she whispered, her voice almost incredulous, as if she couldn’t believe he was asking for more.

"Please," he said against her lips, his breath warm and his tone a desperate plea. His eyes bore into hers, filled with raw emotion and need.

A spark of determination flickered in Y/n's gaze as she took in Kaz's earnest expression. She knew he wasn’t just asking for physical gratification—he was seeking affirmation and reassurance of their connection. "Okay," she whispered back, her voice filled with resolve and deep affection. “Sit down.”

Kaz moved quickly, and Y/n positioned herself on top of him with swift, fluid movements, not giving him time to process what was happening. Her hands gripped his hair harshly, pulling him closer. “Look at me, Kaz,” she ordered, her voice firm but loving.

He opened his eyes, and the sight of her took his breath away. Her makeup was running down her cheeks, black-stained tears tracing paths on her face, and her neck was marked with his bites. She looked raw and beautiful, a vision of passion and intensity.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said in awe, his voice filled with genuine admiration and wonder.

She grinned, maintaining her fast pace, her movements rhythmic and precise, making him struggle to keep up. As she rhythmically squeezed her walls around him, Kaz felt all control slipping away. The sensation was overwhelming, and he found himself talking without fully comprehending his words. “What are you doing to me?” he murmured between moans, his voice a mixture of awe and desperation.

Y/n responded by sucking on his bottom lip, sending him back into a state of pleasurable confusion. Her lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, trailing kisses and harsh bites down his neck, each touch sending shivers through his body. Kaz's hands roamed over her back, gripping her hips tightly as he tried to ground himself in the overwhelming sensations.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered, his voice strained with desire. “I can’t think straight when I’m with you.”

“Good,” she replied, her voice breathy and filled with satisfaction. “I want you to lose every bit of that control you really like to have.”

Their pace quickened, the intensity of their movements increasing with each passing moment. Y/n’s body moved with a grace and confidence that left Kaz breathless. He watched her, mesmerized by the way she moved, the way she took control, and the way she made him feel.

Kaz felt the pressure building, his climax approaching rapidly. He gripped her hips harder, his fingers digging into her flesh as he tried to hold on a little longer, to savor the moment. “Y/n, I’m so close,” he warned, his voice trembling with anticipation.

She smiled, satisfied, leaning in to speak into his ear, her breath hot against his skin, hell, she probably whispered directly inside his brain. “Fill me up,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, but also an irresistible command.

His eyes shot open, the words sending a jolt of electricity through his body. “Fuck,” he muttered, his control slipping away completely as he was overtaken by a series of incoherent rambles and moans.

Her words and the intensity of the moment pushed him over the edge. He held her tightly, his body shaking with the force of his release, each pulse a testament to the raw and unfiltered passion between them.

As the tremors subsided, Kaz’s grip on her softened, his hands sliding up to cradle her back gently. He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they both came down from the high. 

“What was that?” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with awe and love.

y/n shrugged, with a proud smile, “You needed to be put back in your place. Too much confidence.”

Kaz chuckled and gently kissed the spot where he had bitten her, his touch tender now, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. 

He insisted on carrying her to bed, despite the protest of his injured leg. Every step was a reminder of his physical limitations, but he couldn’t care less. They made a brief stop in the bathroom, where they cleaned up her smudged make up and their disheveled bodies as much as they could. The intimacy of the moment, the simple act of caring for each other, was grounding after their intense encounter.

Once they reached the bed, Kaz settled her down, and then slid in beside her. Y/n pressed herself against his side, her head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting sound. Kaz wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back.

The first light of dawn was already creeping through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Kaz kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there as if to imprint the moment into his memory.

“Can I say it now?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

Y/n shifted slightly, looking up at him with tired but content eyes. “Yes.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice filled with all the emotion he had been holding back. It was a confession, a promise, and a plea all wrapped into three simple words.

Y/n’s eyes softened, a small smile curving her lips. She reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I love you,” she replied, her voice hoarse but sincere.

Kaz woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. His eyes slowly adjusted to the sight before him—Y/N lying peacefully beside him, her back exposed as she slept soundly. The sheets were a tangled mess around her legs, barely covering her as she breathed in a slow, steady rhythm. His gaze drifted to the vivid mark on her shoulder, the bite he had left in the heat of the moment. It was a bright red against her skin, a stark reminder of the intensity they had shared. A flicker of guilt passed through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sense of possessive pride.

Her hair was a wild messy cloud on the pillow, and Kaz couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch it. He twirled a few strands between his fingers, feeling their softness, and thought about how far he had come. There was a time when even this simple act would have sent him into a spiral of panic. But now, here he was, not just touching her but waking up beside her, her presence bringing him a rare sense of peace.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N stirred in her sleep, shifting slightly to roll onto her back. The movement caused the sheets to slip further, revealing more of her body. His eyes traced the pattern of love marks scattered across her skin—faint bruises where his lips had pressed too hard, red trails from his nails when he lost control, and the deep crimson of that bite. Each mark made him smile with a quiet satisfaction.

He admired her, soaking in every detail. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the curve of her waist, the way the early morning light kissed her skin. 

He still couldn’t believe what had happened a few hours earlier, and a small voice in his head told him that maybe for her it was just a drunken mistake. Kaz shook his head, dismissing the thought. He wanted to spend all day in bed, wrapped in the warmth of their newfound connection, but he hadto meet some people for work, and the boss was already mad at him.

Kaz sighed as he forced himself out of bed, feeling the lingering warmth of Y/N’s body fade away as he moved. His muscles protested with every step, especially his leg, which throbbed with a dull ache from the previous activities. The limp was more pronounced than usual, a reminder of the rough passion they had spent together on the couch.

He shuffled into the living room, eyes narrowing as he assessed the state of the couch. The cushions were askew, one of them clearly worse for wear. He tilted his head, studying the ruined cushion. After a moment's consideration, he decided to flip it over and deal with the damage later. There were more pressing matters to attend to, like finding the scattered clothes that lay around the room.

As he bent down to pick up Y/N’s dress, a sharp pain shot through his leg, causing him to groan. What happened between them had been worth every ache and pain he was feeling now, but that didn’t make the discomfort any easier to bear.

Clothes in hand, Kaz made his way to the bathroom, each step reminding him of the price he paid for their rough intimacy. He dropped the clothes on the counter, eyeing himself in the mirror as he reached for the painkillers in the cabinet. He popped two into his mouth, washing them down with water from the shower, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the lingering heat in his body. 

After finishing his shower, Kaz dressed quickly, the painkillers were starting to kick in, easing the worst of the discomfort.

Turning his attention to the mirror, he studied his reflection. The love bites on the side of his neck reclaimed his attention, two vivid marks that stood out against his pale skin. They were evidence of Y/N’s possessiveness, and the sight of them brought a smirk to his lips.

For a brief moment, he considered covering them up, knowing his boss would notice and undoubtedly have something to say. But then he shook his head, dismissing the thought. 

“Screw him,” Kaz muttered under his breath, he was getting tired of working for that idiot anyway, the Dregs wouldn’t survive an afternoon without him and it was time that everybody became well aware of it. He ran a hand over the love bites, feeling a surge of possessive pride. His girlfriend left them. 

His girlfriend. 

The thought made him shake his head with a smile. 

Kaz made his way to the kitchen, his steps still slightly uneven from the lingering ache in his leg. The scent of freshly made coffee began to fill the air.

As he reached into the cabinet, his fingers brushed against the small blister pack of birth control pills she had left there, grateful for the justifiable lack of trust she had in the two of them. 

With two steaming mugs in hand, Kaz returned to the bedroom, finding Y/N already stirring, her hand lazily rubbing at her eyes as she tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and hangover. Her hair was a wild mess as she tried to comb them with her fingers.

“Morning,” he greeted her, his voice low and steady as he sat on her side of the bed. He placed his coffee on the nightstand, offering her the mug with a small smile.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep but brightening at the sight of him. A slow smile spread across her face, and she reached out to take the mug from his hand. “Breakfast in bed? You’re taking this girlfriend thing seriously,” she teased, her voice playful but tinged with genuine affection.

Kaz let out a breath. Her lighthearted tone was a relief, reassuring him that she wasn’t rethinking everything that had happened between them. He had half-expected her to wake up with second thoughts, to retreat behind walls of her own. But instead, she was here, teasing him, her words hinting at a shared understanding that made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t entirely used to.

“Can’t risk you changing your mind after just six-ish hours,” Kaz quipped, his voice carrying a teasing edge as a smirk played at the corners of his lips. He handed her the blister pack with a casualness that belied the nervous energy still thrumming under his skin.

Y/N took the pack from him, her fingers brushing his for a moment. She studied it, then looked up at him, her expression suddenly serious, a frown tugging at her brow. “I thought we were having kids.”

Kaz, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, nearly choked at her words. He froze, the mug suspended in mid-air as her statement sunk in, his mind spinning. He had imagined a future with her, sure, but kids? Now? His thoughts raced, trying to reconcile the casual morning banter with the gravity of what she’d just said. It felt like his heart had skipped a beat, then another, as panic set in.

“To quote you,” Y/N continued, her tone perfectly even, “‘I want everything with you, Y/N. The arguments, the messy mornings, the kids, the forever.’ Did you forget already?”

Kaz blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words, any words, to respond. He remembered saying that, what kind of memory did she have? 

“I... I didn’t—” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

Y/N’s serious facade cracked, and she burst into laughter, the sound light and teasing as she took the pill with a sip of coffee. “Saints, I’m kidding,” she grinned, watching the tension drain from his face. “Relax, love, you’re sweating more than the guy who does my taxes.”

Kaz let out a breath, his shoulders sagging with relief as he set the coffee mug down on the nightstand. The panic subsided, replaced by embarrassment and the undeniable warmth of being completely disarmed by her. “Not funny,” he muttered, though there was a trace of a smile on his lips.

“Oh, it was a little funny,” Y/N teased, leaning in to nudge him playfully with her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she watched his reaction. “You should’ve seen your face. I didn’t think Kaz Brekker could look that terrified.”

Kaz couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head in amusement and lingering disbelief. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, still trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline from her joke.

She set the cup on the nightstand and moved closer to him, her expression suddenly more serious, though he could see the playful glint still dancing in her eyes. “You know,” she began, her tone shifting to something more thoughtful, “I would have to leave my job if we have a baby.”

That left Kaz completely speechless. He stared at her, his mind racing but unable to form a coherent reply. He’d thought she was done joking, but the way she said it made him question everything. Was she serious? Was this something she’d thought about?

Y/N’s laughter broke the silence again, and she leaned back, shaking her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” she said, her laughter infectious. “You’re really considering it. I think we should go back to condoms; I don’t like that look on your face.”

Kaz sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off the headache he felt coming. “I can’t stand you already,” he groaned, though his voice carried no real irritation—just exasperated affection.

“You’re the one who wanted this,” she shot back with a grin, her voice light and teasing. “I told you to stay away from me.”

Kaz smirked, shaking his head as he pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. “And yet, here we are,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more sincere. 

“You’re already all dressed up,” she commented. “Plans?”

“I have a work thing I can’t skip, but you can stay here and sleep more if you want. I left you the spare keys on the table.”

“You know I’ll have to go back home sooner or later?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, to pack your things,” Kaz shrugged, trying to sound casual.

Y/n raised a brow, a mix of surprise and amusement in her eyes. “Are we really doing this? Moving in together?”

“Yes,” he replied with a crooked smile.

Y/n tilted her head, studying him. “I don’t want to live in a place where half of the furniture was chosen by your ex.”

“Then find another house,” Kaz said, raising his shoulders, meeting her intense gaze. “I’m not kidding, Y/n. I want this.”

She stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she nodded slowly. “I’ll start looking then.”

Kaz leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips. “Good.”

“Do we have time for something quick?” she murmured, her voice laced with playful intent as she grabbed his loose tie, gently tugging him closer. The smirk on her lips was almost irresistible, a clear invitation in her eyes as she pulled him over her.

Kaz’s breath caught in his throat as he hovered above her, his resolve wavering as he looked down at her. “No,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction, his eyes betraying the internal struggle as they flickered between her lips and his watch.

“Super quick?” she coaxed, her fingers toying with the fabric of his tie, her tone teasing yet full of promise. She arched up slightly, closing the gap between them, making it even harder for him to say no. 

Kaz let out a low groan, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought the pull of her body against the ticking clock in his mind. “You’re making this difficult,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of the sheets.

“Good,” she whispered back, her lips brushing against his, her breath warm against his mouth. “I wouldn’t want it to be easy.”

Kaz’s grip on her hip tightened as he tried to keep control of the situation—or at least of himself—but the way she looked up at him, her eyes full of desire, made it nearly impossible. He felt his resolve slipping with every passing second, his mind battling between duty and the undeniable pull of her. “You’re going to get me fired,” he warned, though the words were more of a formality at this point, his body already betraying his intentions as he leaned closer.

Y/N’s lips curled into a wicked smile, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “Oh, tell your boss to shut up and suck it,” she shot back, her tone dripping with playful defiance, “or I’m telling everyone that he cries after he comes.”

Kaz blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected remark. His brain scrambled to process what she’d just said, the absurdity of it clashing with the intense desire he was feeling. “Why?” he groaned, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Why did you have to put that image in my head right now?”

Y/N chuckled, a light, melodic sound that only added to his frustration. “I thought you liked a challenge,” she teased, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer. “Consider it motivation to stay focused. Come on, we don’t have time.”

Kaz shook his head, unable to suppress a smirk despite the ridiculous mental picture she’d just painted. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he finally gave in, their lips meeting in a heated kiss.

Y/N’s laughter faded into a satisfied hum as she kissed him back, her body arching into his as if to claim victory. “Love me,” she murmured against his lips, her words a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

[spellbinding10]

𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑙𝑒.

𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑, 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑟𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒉𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑡𝒉 𝑐𝒉𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠; 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝒉𝑒𝑠.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader

One // homeland

Two // balancing

Three // warning sign

Four // bloody

Five // chances

Six // ending

Series Completed // Tag List Closed

[spellbinding10]

At the Emperor’s Word -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: Sneaking around the academy after hours sounds like a good idea right up until you get caught; then, it becomes a great idea.

Pairing: Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Threesome, Kissing, Handjob, Voyeurism, Obedience Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Cuckolding, Edging, Degradation, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Lap Sex, Light Punishment Kink, Big Dick Viktor, Pet Names, Begging, Slight Choking, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Rough Sex

Notes: A little fashionably late, but here is my absolutely filthy piece in celebration of Viktor’s birthday 🎉!! Viktor, my dearest, thank you for being my beloved husband and the devoted father of our many children. Glorious ovulation everyone ✌️💕.

You try to stifle a chuckle.

“Jayce, we can't-”

He's warm, so warm. You always feel yourself melt under his touch.

“C'mon, just a minute…” he insists.

You can't help but giggle breathlessly as he brings your hand into his pants, a large hand wrapping your fingers around his already half-hard cock. His body presses yours against the workbench, the firm wood digging into your lower back. His other hand slides against the fabric of your skirt, cushioning the strain, and not so subtly placing his palm over your ass.

He nuzzles his face against the top of your head, letting out a pleased groan when your fist starts moving. You suppress another laugh, trying your best to remain quiet, but you're positively enamoured of those sounds he makes when you touch him. Without even seeing his face, you know the content smile hasn't left his lips; he's so easy to please.

He's twitching under your grip, gripping your cheeks to the rhythm of the strokes. You quicken the pace, and he lets out a low moan that echoes through the empty lab.

This wing of the academy is always empty at this time of night, but there's something exciting about having to stay quiet. You can feel how close he's getting, the slight rutting of his hips a now familiar sign. His breath hitches, he's almost there, just a little more-

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

You yelp in surprise, pulling out your hand from Jayce's pants so fast your arm hits the wooden desk behind you. Jayce lets out a confused, frustrated shout at the sudden loss of friction as you wince in pain.

There, at the entrance of the lab, stands a looming figure, holding one of the large doors partially open. The light from the corridor obscures his face from the darkness of the lab; but there is no mistaking who this silhouette belongs to.

Viktor makes a single step forward, the metallic sound of his crutch against the tiled floor making you wince, as he lets the door close behind him. The room falls into obscurity again, the pale glow of the moon and the distant city lights only faintly shining through the windows.

“Ah, Viktor!” Jayce almost bellows in an overly cheery tone, walking backwards to put some distance between the two of you. “I- We were waiting for you! Got a bunch of interesting notes about today's experiments to show you !”

Viktor's face is blank, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in cold annoyance. He is neither amused nor does he seem the believe Jayce's jovial act. He nods curtly at the other man's pants, which are obviously, painfully unbuttoned. Jayce cringes as he quickly stumbles to reattach them, sliding the buttons in the wrong slits. You're frozen in place, eyes wide in fear, incapable of looking away from Viktor's frigid expression. But his focus is not on you; it's on Jayce.

“So,” he starts loudly, not bothering with whispers, “You barely spend any time working in the lab anymore. You have not even checked any of the upgrades I have suggested for the hexgates in the last month.” His voice is apathetic and dry, and his eyes narrow when he says the next words:

“And this is what you've been up to?”

Jayce opens his mouth like he's ready to argue, but the glare from his work partner seems to change his mind. He lowers his head silently, like a puppy being scolded. Viktor's golden pupils slide to you, and you now understand exactly why Jayce prefers looking at the floor.

“From Jayce I could expect,” Viktor remarks, the weight of his stare making you shrink, “but from you? I'll admit I'm disappointed.”

You bow your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks are burning, and you know there's no way to pretend like this is only a misunderstanding. You wish you could vanish on the spot.

Jayce, always the hero, comes to your defence quickly: “Viktor, it wasn't her idea-”

“I'm so sorry sir,” you interrupt him, stepping forward. You know Viktor well enough to recognize he's not a fan of poor excuses or avoiding accountability. “I swear this internship means the world to me. I know how many other students dream of working on hextech. It won't ever happen again.”

He seems pleased by your answer, although his expression stays perfectly stoic.

“That's good to hear,” he hums, walking closer to the both of you. He stops a few feet away, a ray of moonlight passing through a coloured beaker catching in his auburn hair. It illuminates him in an eerie, reddish glow, like he's not quite human, almost a phantom. “Well then, do not let me stop the both of you. Keep going, as you were.”

You have to assume he's joking, even if his tone sounds anything but, and you let out a confused, nervous giggle. But he isn't laughing, and neither is Jayce.

“Viktor…” there's uncertainty in the taller man's voice. It's not fear, or alarm, but he's apprehensive about something.

Viktor lets out a small sigh of lassitude, discontent evident. He looks at you again, with these amber eyes that make you feel like the world around you vanishes. Like there's nothing but him, and the words about to leave his lips.

“It would appear my partner is suddenly hard of hearing. Were my instructions unclear to you as well?”

You swallow. Your lips feel dry. Jayce is still unmoving next to you, still as a board, watching your interaction with his lab partner with an uneasy look.

“…No sir,” you mutter, just loudly enough for both men to hear. Viktor gives you the shadow of a smile.

“C'mon Viktor, you've humiliated her enough,” Jayce argues softly, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. But the other man has clearly decided Jayce hasn't gained his favour for the night, barely sparing him an icy glare.

“I do not believe I was talking to you,” he states matter-of-factly. The man of progress makes a strangled sound of protest, clearly insulted, but Viktor seems to have all but forgotten about him, now. It's back to only you and him, and the teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“He's always like this. Begging for attention,” Viktor tells you in a tone of confidence, like the topic of the conversation isn't standing less than a foot away from you with a baffled look on his face. “One has to wonder if he is compensating for something, but I figure you are in a good position to tell, right?”

You can’t prevent the corners of your mouth from lifting at the underhanded jab; Viktor seems emboldened by your reaction, voice louder when he continues:

“I certainly hope he's been more of a gentleman to you than this. Or does he only bend you over in our lab like an animal?”

The comment is enough to pull Jayce out of his stupor, and he raises his arms in protest.

“Hey, I'm not that-” he starts heatedly.

“Jayce.”

It's just his name; nothing else. You've said it to him hundreds of times. But there's something different in the way Viktor says it, the slow pronunciation of the syllables, the hardness of the accent, the deepness of the voice. Whatever it is, Jayce is compelled by it just as much as an order. He stops right in his tracks, his arms falling uselessly back to his side, like a dog listening to a command.

Viktor hums in approval, but his stare is no less punishing.

“I was not talking to you. When it is your turn to speak, you will know.”

Jayce's mouth is slightly agape, his eyes wide, an expression you can't quite read on his face; but he obeys. He stands there like a puppet, unmoving, drinking Viktor's words. You can't help but notice the still present strain in his badly buttoned pants.

The thinner man's gaze softens once more as it falls on you. He makes another step forward; close enough that you could reach him with your hand if you tried. He looks at you encouragingly: “Answer the question, sweet thing.”

The room feels like it's shrunk to barely a tenth of its size. Your breath has become shallow without you noticing. But isn't quite from fear anymore.

“T-twice in the lab before,” you stutter, the embarrassment of recounting your adventures to your direct supervisor burning your cheeks. The arousal in the air is undeniable now, and he's visibly aware of it. “And in the library. Once in my bedroom.”

Viktor hums pensively, studying your answer. It almost feels like you're passing some kind of final exam; the world's most sexually charged exam, undoubtedly.

“So he is aware of the basic notion of privacy behind closed doors, then,” Viktor concludes, the thin smirk now fully on display. “Who would have thought.”

He doesn't look away from your eyes when he finally speaks to the other man again.

“Jayce. How close are you?”

You glance at the taller engineer; he's started palming himself through his pants, his breathing irregular. His hair is dishevelled from your previous activities, and his cheeks are a bright crimson against his caramel skin. He's usually so dominating, on top of things, handling you like a chiffon doll up and down his dick with that cocky smile of his. You've never seen him like this; flustered, desperate, seeming so small despite all of his stature.

“Pretty close,” Jayce almost moans out, voice raspy for exertion. He's biting his own bottom lip so tightly it might start bleeding. “Just a little more.”

Viktor finally gives him a slight smile, though it's dripping with self-satisfaction. He's close enough to you that you can smell him now, that you could brush away the wayward strands of hair on his forehead. His face has been marked by the passage of time and countless hours of work, heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks almost gaudy. And yet, there is no sign of him ever losing control of this moment. Nothing could change the hypnotic power of his eyes, the controlling tone of his voice, or the subjugating effect of his slightly crooked smile.

“I suppose we should oblige,” he suggests lightly, his free hand brushing your cheek. His fingers are thin and lithe, cold against your skin, and you lean into the touch. He gives you a moment to pull away, if you want to; but you don't.

The kiss is slow at first, gentle, just the way little girls dream their prince charming might one day give them. He lets you decide when to pick up the speed, and you initiate after a few seconds by slipping your tongue in his mouth. It's messier, now, teeth clashing every now and then, saliva pooling where your lips meet. He tastes nothing like Jayce, his flavour of dark coffee and fresh mint; Viktor is sweet, like milk and honey, like a slice of lemon cake in the summer heat.

When he pulls away for air, you feel like time has started to move once again, as if you've just emerged from a dream. He's smirking confidently, still, but not entirely unfazed; his pale cheeks have turned pink, his breathing is slightly laboured, and there are traces of smudged saliva on the corners of his mouth.

A foreign whine makes you both turn towards Jayce, who is clearly on the edge of orgasm. He's abandoned any pretence of innocence, his cock fully pulled out of his pants as he rubs it furiously, eyes locked on the two of you.

“Stop,” Viktor only says.

Jayce groans in frantic frustration, slowing his rhythm but incapable of removing his hand. He's harder than you've ever seen him, his tip almost a painful red.

“No, no, c'mon V, don't do this. Please keep going,” he begs, looking at you with pitiful eyes, pleading silently. You want to touch him, to let him touch himself. But you know it's not your decision; it's Viktor's. And he's made his ruling, so you're not about to get on your research director's bad side again.

The head engineer offers a proud smile at your lack of answer to Jayce, the kind he usually reserves for reports submitted in advance or ingenious schematics. You recognize him more like this, strict, but never unappreciative of your efforts. He never forgets to slip a word of encouragement when you're stuck, never hesitates to reread your notes with you when the math isn't quite adding up. The cold anger seems to have fully passed, and now only the teasing, taunting satisfaction remains.

“I believe you may have forgotten that as per her contract, she is my assistant. Meaning she is under my direct command.”

He's looking at Jayce now, whose hand is still wrapped around his length, but unmoving. His cock is twitching in his grasp, desperate as the rest of him. His whole body shifts to the rhythm of his respiration, large shoulders slumped in defeat. Viktor doesn't turn to you when he asks you the following question, choosing instead to stare deeply into Jayce's citrine eyes.

“Is that not correct?”

You don't hesitate with your answer this time.

“Yes sir.”

His focus is still on the other man, but he strokes your cheek again with his left hand. He rests his weight comfortably on his crutch, like he doesn't have a single worry in the world in this moment.

“Good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten at that. That voice could tell you to find a way to harness the power of the goddamn stars before figuring out the hexcore, and you would comply.

“Jayce, could you bring the chair over here? The larger one.”

Viktor points with his chin towards a wooden chair with a flat backing, in a corner of the lab. Jayce looks back and forth between the chair and his partner, like he's unsure if he's joking or testing him. When no additional directions come from Viktor, he sighs in discomfort, clearly disgruntled, unceremoniously shoving himself back in his pants to go fetch the chair. The thinner man hums in appreciation when he brings it back and places it next to him.

“Thank you, Jayce.”

He sits, using his crutch for balance as he shifts slightly to find a comfortable position. His hand leaves the burgundy handgrip, instead settling on the metallic upper section. He looks like the king of a forgotten kingdom, resting on his wooden throne, sceptre in hand. You and Jayce, his obedient consorts, can't do anything but await his next command.

It comes in the form of a simple motion of his hand, beckoning you closer. You only stop when your legs bump against his, standing above him. His fingers caress the fabric of your skirt studyingly, like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually catch on the waistband, tugging it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of the sunrise etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and he lowers the skirt down until it reaches your knees, letting it fall to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you dressed up this morning knowing you would see Jayce.

The design is simple, a line of flowery lace hugging your hips, and curving to the shape of your ass. It's the kind of thing Jayce loves; he'll even make you keep your panties on sometimes as he fucks you, just pushing the bottom of the fabric to the side to fit himself inside you. It's the lace he can’t resist, you think, the way it barely covers anything and rests against your skin like a present for him to unwrap.

It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Viktor, but you can tell he’s still appreciative, cold hand sneaking under the lace to squeeze a cheek firmly.

“This is fucking torture,” Jayce groans in complaint, standing still just barely a few feet away. He's obviously aware he's not supposed to interfere with the two of you, or to touch himself for relief, but the glistening sweat on his forehead and down the prominent vein on his neck indicates how difficult this is for him.

“And you should know better than to have sex next to a table covered in explosive materials and one-of-a-kind prototypes,” Viktor retorts, sparing him a slightly displeased glance. “What if you had broken something irreplaceable?”

Jayce seems genuinely embarrassed by that; he may not show it as often these days with how busy he is, but you know he still cares about the academy's research and the state of hextech.

“I'm sorry Viktor. I wasn't thinking…”

“I am aware you were not thinking. And that is exactly the issue. You forget how much of our profession relies on thinking, not talking.”

It's crystal clear that's going to be the end of the conversation, for now. Viktor's fingers slide to your hip, following the shape of the panties until your inner thigh. A small tap with a single digit tells him everything he needs to know.

“Look at this,” he smiles, taunting but affectionate, “Already so wet just from a kiss. Or was it the sound of my voice that did it, I wonder.”

Both, it's both, and every single thing that has happened in this lab since he entered it. You tremble when his finger moves slowly against the damp fabric, not quite oversensitive, but a little on edge.

“I, um-” Jayce hesitantly speaks up from the side. “I fingered her a bit earlier. I… think she should be alright?”

This time, Viktor doesn't reprimand him for talking; he seems surprisingly pleased, eyes boring into yours for confirmation.

“Is that so?” he exhales softly.

You nod breathlessly. Why is it always so difficult to talk when he's studying you like this?

The teasing finger slips under the fabric, gently making its way into you. You let out an involuntary sound of eagerness as he verifies if you've been loosened up, analyzing you with the precision of a machine. He removes the digit with a crooked grin when he judges you've passed, and you whine at the loss; it was barely anything in the first place, but it soothed the feeling of total emptiness in your core.

“Color me impressed,” Viktor declares, half genuine, half mocking. “I do not think I have ever seen Jayce do his work in advance.”

Said man groans in defeated complaint:

“You're turning her against me.”

Viktor lets out a wry snort:

“You do that well enough on your own. You touched her without even making her cum?”

He pats your pussy comfortingly, and you almost sing to the feeling. Your panties get lowered swiftly, and you discard them with little decorum. Viktor's assertive expression has softened enough that you feel emboldened enough to try to join in the banter:

“Jayce thinks foreplay is watching him get undressed. He's not exactly an expert.”

Viktor laughs at that, a charming and genuine sound, and you feel yourself glow with pride. The topic of mockery doesn't seem as pleased, his cheeks red, his lips thin:

“See? Told you. You've already worked your fucking magic on her.”

Viktor starts unbuttoning his pants, the teasing smile still etched on his angular features. His fingers work nimbly, swiftly, with the precision only the best engineer in Runeterra could muster in such circumstances.

“It is not magic, Jayce. Simply talent and practice.”

He does quick work of lowering his pants, just enough to expose his underwear. The confirmation that he is indeed not as unbothered as he still may seem is poking through the fabric. Judging by the defined outline and the sizeable tent, you can instantly confirm a hypothesis you've had since the start of your internship: the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy is packing.

He's not unaware of it either; his golden eyes follow the movement of your own, playfully examining your reaction. It's different from Jayce's endearing ego and constant need for praise; Viktor knows his worth, but he revels in the admiration, the stares filled with awe and devotion.

If Jayce needs to feel worthy, then Viktor needs to feel wanted.

He finally frees his cock from the restrive fabric, letting the member bob slightly. He's not even fully hard, and he's huge, the length imposing, the bulbous tip a pleasant shade of pink. The skin is as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins marking it like porcelain; only a few well-trimmed auburn curls at the base remind you he's not sculpted from actual marble.

Jayce lets out a low, tentatively playful whistle as the other man’s slender fingers wrap around the shaft.

“Flattery will not get you far, Jayce,” Viktor comments absentmindedly. “You and I both know this is nothing you have not seen before.”

He moves his hand in an open, loose fist, evidently without any real intent to finish himself off; not with the way he's made you stand right above him, not with how he's looking right at you. You swallow with difficulty, licking your lips for moisture. The energy between the two of you is tangible, electric, as he keeps working himself tantalizingly slow.

“Darling. Sweet thing. Do you want this?”

You nod vigorously, the words stuck in your throat again.

“Tell me, then. Please. Tell me how much you want this,” he requests, and it's hard to tell whether that's an order or a plea with the way his voice lowers, just barely louder than a whisper.

You feel like you're high, your mind a jumbled mess of adrenaline and lust. There are no sentences that could possibly express how he's got you under his spell. How many times have you imagined a scene like this, in only a year of being his assistant? The stolen glances, the passing touches, you had no reason to believe they were anything more than figments of your lustful imagination. The very idea that he could be the one doubting your interest in him is laughable, and yet his gaze is probing you for a response, his lips parted with bated breath.

“I want this. I want you,” you swear to him, staring back so deeply into the amber irises there could not be a single question left. “Please, sir.”

You bring a hand to the crook of his neck; the coolness of the skin under your palm, the sharpness of his collarbone against your fingertips, the beating of his heart below your thumb. He has to know this is real.

Viktor smiles slightly, the little mole above his lips shifting alongside his dimples.

“I would ask you to be weary of my right leg, then. It is not quite as strong as it used to be, although that is not saying much.”

You've never seen the emotion that crosses Viktor's face in that moment, gone in under a second. It's so subtle one might have missed it; bitterness, regret, defeat. The tragedy of a man brilliant enough to change the whole world, but who wouldn't live long enough to see it. If Janna truly watches over the lost children of Zaun, then she is turning a blind eye to the brightest of them all.

You could say something, try and comfort him, but you choose not to. There's nothing that can be said to change things; there’s only the present, and there are only actions.

You sink down on him slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. You can't help the array of whines escaping your pinched lips. The heat from where your bodies meet is overwhelming, the stretch delightful and filling. He's not fully inside you and you're already wondering how much more you can take. It's dizzying, the pain making you grit your teeth, but you persist, fingers clenching on the back of the chair. When you've fully bottomed out, you let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Viktor soothingly pats your back, and you hang on to him for dear life, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers softly, worry evident in his voice. You want to answer, but you're quite certain if you open your mouth you'll only get confused gibberish out, because fuck, he's filling you so much it's hard to even think. You shift your grip to his shoulder blades, trying to anchor yourself, absentmindedly noticing the cool feeling of metal under his uniform. You trace the intricate patterns with your fingers to ground yourself, recognizing the shapes of bolts and screws, as you feel your breathing slowly even out

“I’m ok,” you eventually manage to exhale. “I just- need a second“

Viktor makes an understanding hum, his hand caressing the valley of your back like you're doing with his, his strokes mellow. He moves his head slightly to look at Jayce behind you, throwing him an irritated glare.

“So much for your preparations,” he points out with irony.

Without needing to see him, you know exactly the kind of disgruntled face Jayce is making: “She only needs three to fit me, you're just stupid big.”

“I can move,” you interrupt them, the pain now only a vague tingle; all that remains is the yearning for him.

You place both hands on the back of the chair to balance your weight, being careful of Viktor's weaker leg. You bring yourself up slowly, tantalizingly, before letting yourself fall back on his length. There's no other way to describe the broken moan you release than dirty.

“Eh,” Viktor remarks slyly, groaning when you start moving again. “S-she does not seem to think it’s stupid.”

You fuck yourself on him with abandon, fast, rough, not caring of how debauched you may look. If anything, Jayce seems very appreciative if his moans and curses are any indication.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants somewhere behind you, too far to feel his warmth, but close enough to hear he's pumping himself to the same rhythm you're riding Viktor. “You're doing such a good job taking him, princess…”

He's truly begging when he calls the other man's name again, delirious from the unending edging:

“V, please, make her turn to my side, I have to see her face.”

Viktor's hooded eyes bare into yours, his raspy pants echoing through your head as you thrust up and down his length.

“Do you think he is truly sorry, now?” he asks, the ever-teasing glimmer in his pupils shining despite the clear physical effort from his body.

You can't even remember what Jayce has to be sorry for; you whimper a positive ‘huh-uh’. Viktor nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck for a moment, gently bitting the sweaty skin in a surprising hint of possessiveness, but he does finally agree to free Jayce of his torture.

“I will trust your good judgment. You can come here, Jayce.”

You yelp in surprise when two strong but familiar hands suddenly grab you at the waist and turn you around, almost pulling you off Viktor's cock and into a messy kiss. The slight tickle of Jayce's stubble is pleasantly itchy, his tongue desperately searching for more of your taste. You moan wantonly against his mouth when you feel Viktor twitch inside you, but the man under you doesn't seem fully pleased: a thinner but firm hand brings you back against his chest, and he throws Jayce an irritated glare.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Typical,” the older man accuses him with a bitter tone, his accent more pronounced, rigid. “You do not get to touch, and you are only allowed to cum on her.”

His lips come to your ear in the ghost of a kiss, velvety smooth:

“Would that be agreeable to you, sweet thing?”

You just know you want to keep going, really; so you do exactly that as a reply.

This position is harder for movement, since without the support of the chair’s back, you would have to rely on putting pressure on Viktor's knees. Thankfully, with Jayce’s proximity, you can use his muscled chest for balance. He certainly doesn't mind being used like this if the expression he’s wearing is any sign: his entire face is crimson, his eyes heavy, laboured breaths escaping his abused lips. He's still following your pace, pumping up and down every time your ass meets Viktor's hip bones. It has to be painful by now, with the way he's been rubbing himself raw for so long without release, but he's either too entranced to care or getting off the burning friction

“So obedient,” Viktor praises you, his free hand moving to your lower stomach, long fingers digging gently into your skin; you wonder if he’s trying to feel himself move inside you. “We might still be able to make a top student out of you. What do you think, Jayce?”

Much like yourself, Jayce seems beyond the capacity for words. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you, like he wants to take you off Viktor's lap and fuck you right on the floor. But you both know he wouldn't do that without Viktor's approval, at the risk of getting on the other man’s bad side again.

Viktor's cock hits a peculiarly sensitive spot inside you and you cry out from the sudden shock, loling out your tongue involuntarily. Jayc makes a strangled sound at the sight, and it visibly takes all his self-control to not shove himself into the warmth of your throat.

“For once, I cannot get you to talk when I actually want you to,” Viktor tsks in disapproval, but it's clear he's not frustrated; rather, he seems to enjoy the trance-like silence Jayce has been reduced to.

“F-fuck, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” the younger man sputters, delirious, his fist moving with a frenzied pace. “I can see your cock in and out of her every time she bounces like that. Her tits look so good…”

You recognize that slight pitch in his voice, the rumbling in his throat; he's close again.

“What else?” Viktor hums, not letting him have a moment of respite. You can hear ragged gasps next to your ear, parts of heaved curses indicating he too is nearing his end, but he's still firmly insistent on being the one in control of it all.

Jayce whines in struggle, but it's hard to hear with how loud the sound of your own moans echo in the room. You've been using Viktor's cock to hit that one spot over and over, chasing your high without restraint, the familiar clenching of your walls maddening.

“She looks all fucked out. Like she -fuck- like she's so close to cumming around you…”

The other man seems pleased by that if the way you feel him twitch inside you is evidence. “Good observations,” he replies in playful irony. “Perhaps there is still a scientist in there.”

The hand on your stomach leaves its comfortable position to wrap around your neck, the pressure light, just barely restricting airflow.

“Sweet thing,” he calls out to you once more. “You can pick up the pace a little. I want you to never look away from Mr Talis's eyes.”

It's a hard request to fulfill considering how badly you want to squint your eyes shut in the agonizing pleasure; but you try your very best, unshed tears of exhaustion starting to pool and blurying your vision.

The sight of you so desperately trying to obey Viktor's order to focus on nothing but him is what finally undoes Jayce, who lets out one final loud curse:

“Shit-!”

He cums all over your academy blouse with a shout, little droplets reaching as high as your chin. It barely takes three more thrusts against Viktor for you to join him, crying tears of relief as an intense wave of bliss rocks your entire body. With your limbs reduced to nothing but putty, your head falls forward in exhaustion, thankfully stopped by Jayce's strong torso; the fabric of his dress shirt feels like satin against your face, burying your sobs.

Viktor takes a moment longer to reach his peak, fucking into your exhausted body with concentration, thick eyebrows furrowed. It's too much, too rough, and you throw your head back to whine against his neck pitifully. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath before he finally unloads into you with a long groan.

“Shh, good girl,” he compliments you soothingly as his warmth settles into your core, kissing your neck leisurely in praise. “You have done so well.”

He bends your head back slightly more to catch your mouth in an open-mouth kiss, slow and tired, sloppy from your mutual exhaustion. Jayce groans, his hand somehow still on his softened cock, pumping it lazily; his stamina is utterly unbelievable.

“Okay, actually, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he comments hoarsely, absorbing the way your tongue dances with Viktor's with every inch of his capacities.

Viktor concludes the wet kiss with a small peck on your lips, smiling as your head falls back on his shoulder in fatigue, your eyes shut close.

“Because you managed to get yourself all over her?” he throws back at Jayce, as calm and confident as if he hadn't just made you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. “Your ego will never cease to impress me.”

The stars behind your eyelids are still spinning; you weakly try to move an arm, finding it almost completely unresponsive.

“Sir?” you ask, and you almost don't recognize your voice with how rough and broken it resonates in the empty lab.

“I think we have reached the point where you are allowed to call me by my name in private,” Viktor amusedly hums close to you.

“Viktor, I…”

You want to open your eyes, to look into his golden eyes again and see the way he looks right after sex, but they're sealed shut from how worn out you are. “…I don't think I can move right away.”

That earns you a content chuckle from one man and a disbelieving laugh from the other.

“Jayce,” Viktor asks, now with a tone of request rather than command, “be a gentleman for once and carry her to her bedroom. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Jayce snorts, for once tonight the one hitting back with irony:

“And whose fault is that?”

Viktor’s fingers, still loosely wrapped around your throat as lightly as feathers, slide down to massage the tender muscles at the base of your nape. You moan brokenly into the touch. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

“Undeniably yours. I am not the one sneaking around in the academy for nefarious purposes,” Viktor retorts playfully, tiredness noticeable but skillfully hidden in his voice. “But if you were to have a bad idea like this once more… I believe I can offer you my services as her supervisor. For both your sakes.”