#I’m a bit shell shocked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachesofteal · 7 months

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Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.”

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin.

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked.

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course.

Why is he talking to you?

He glances down at your drink.

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?”

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles.

“You live around here?”

“I go to Rice.”

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?”

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult.

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats.

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you.

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool.

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak.

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.”

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need.

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready.

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff.

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask.

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite.

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay?

Everything is not okay.

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes.

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules.

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.” As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours.

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens.

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell.

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that?

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it.

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It��s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care.

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.” Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever.

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin.

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand.

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”

No strings attached.

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to.

What’re you doing?

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first.

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened.

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come.

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap.

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny."

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy.

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs.

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself.

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow.

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #ghost x soap #if you saw my technical difficulty earlier no you didn't!

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

the boys w a reader who's very physically affectionate? pre-relationship >:)

like none of them are dating yet, and she'd hug and kiss them on the cheeks, hold their hands on the way to class, carry their books/bags for them and lean on them in the common room and all three of them are flustered by it. bonus points if reader doesn't even know she does it, it's just how she is, and when they point it out she's like "oh.. i'll stop, sorry" and they're like "NONONONO" THEY'D BE SO CUTE

Yesssss thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You insist on carrying Remus’ book bag to Hogsmeade for him, and he glares at James the whole way for letting slip that his shoulders have been aching all day.

“Let me take that,” James offers for the upteenth time, ignoring Remus’ muttered “Yeah, let ‘im.”

“I’ve got it, Jamie,” you say again, wobbling a bit under the weight of Remus’ books, far more plentiful than what you’d packed for the study session. “We’re here anyway.”

“C’mon, doll, let’s get you a butterbeer to warm up, yeah?” Sirius opens the door to The Three Broomsticks. “I’m sure Remus will buy.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy Y/N one, not either of you.”

“Spoilsport.” Sirius slides into an empty booth, and you set your load down beside him, turning around and pushing up on your tiptoes to give Remus a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, and Remus isn’t a very affectionate person, but he’s hardly easily flustered either. So when his cheeks turn bright pink as soon as you’re not looking anymore, James can’t help but grin.

“Sit by me, sweetheart,” Sirius says, setting his arm atop the booth. James thinks he views your flirting as a sort of contest, seeing who will go the farthest before someone needs to tap out. But if it’s a competition, it’s one Sirius is destined to lose.

You slide agreeably in beside him, slipping under Sirius’ arm so readily that it drops from the booth in surprise, landing with a dull thump at your side. “Merlin, it’s cold in here,” you say, nestling close. “You think they keep it that way so you’ll buy more butterbeer?”

Sirius’ voice is pitchy and breathless. “Mm—probably.”

James smirks at him, sliding into the safe zone across from the two of you.

You take Sirius’ hand in both of yours, frowning and rubbing at it. “See, your hand is freezing! This is ridiculous.”

Remus reappears with four pitchers, grinning knowingly at the shell-shocked look on Sirius’ face. “I’ll be expecting the two of you to pay me back,” he says to James and Sirius, setting them down and beginning to dig through his book bag. “Merlin, if I can finish Slughorn’s essay while we're here it’ll be a miracle.”

James blows gently on his butterbeer, trying not to watch too closely as you purse your lips to do the same. “Have you started on that already?” he asks.

Remus shakes his head, exasperated but familiar with James’ ways. “It’s due tomorrow, Prongs. You won’t be able to do it in the hour before class, trust me.”

“Wait, the one on boggarts?” you ask, opening your own bag. Remus nods, and you hold up a small stack of parchment, beaming. “I finished this morning. Wanna see?”

“That'd be great,” Remus says. “What I really can’t figure out is the part…about…” he appears to lose his train of thought as, instead of passing the papers across the table, you disappear under it, re-emerging a second later to squeeze between James and Remus in their seat.

“I know what you mean,” you say, as though this is all very commonplace, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with the both of them. “The second part of the question is near impossible to understand, but I think I may have figured it out. Here, see…” James stops hearing the conversation as you duck down towards your work, your hair tickling his arm and your jumper riding up to reveal the small of your back. James’ eyes follow the curve of your spine, down, down, until—he feels like a total perv, and looks away.

Across the booth, Sirius is looking simultaneously relieved to have a break from your brazen affection and regretful that you’re not still there with him. He watches you as you speak in low tones with Remus, his eyes flicking upwards to James as if to say this is insane, right?. James nods back dazedly.

You finish whatever you’ve been explaining to Remus, hauling your butterbeer across the table to sip at it. “Jamie, do you want my jumper?”

He nearly chokes. “Hm?”

You look up at him with concerned eyes. “I can feel you shivering. It might be a bit small on you, but it could help.”

James is cold, but watching you take off that jumper, smelling you on it, would be too much. He forces a smile, taking a sip of his warm butterbeer instead. “Thanks, but I’m alright.”

You frown at him, setting your hand atop his on the table. “You sure, honey? I don’t mind. I’m feeling a bit hot, actually.”

Whatever the look on James' face, it’s enough to make Sirius guffaw. Loudly. Even Remus snickers, tucking his tongue into his cheek.

“What?” You look at them. “What’s funny?”

“Doll, you’ve killed him,” Sirius laughs, and James doesn’t feel so chilly anymore, all his blood rushing to his face.

Your brows scrunch together worriedly. “What do you mean?”

Remus chuckles, the only one of them kind enough to give you an explanation. “I think what he’s saying is, even James has a threshold for flirting. You’ve just flustered him. Don’t worry, he’ll recover.”

“I…what?”

“C’mon,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “all the touching, the hugs, the pet names? A man can only take so much.”

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry!” You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I didn’t realize—I’m just a naturally affectionate person, but I didn’t mean to flirt—well, I don’t not want to flirt with you all, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I’ll stop, I’m sorry.”

Sirius blinks. “Don’t stop,” he protests. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your confusion returns. “No?”

“No,” Remus says, some of the color from earlier returning to his cheeks. “I mean, it’s nice.”

James nods, finding his voice again. “Flirt with us all you like, but, um…would it be alright if we flirted back?”

Your smile comes like a sunrise, slow and brilliant and beautiful. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Sirius grins at you, bravado restored. “Good, because we need to even the playing field, dollface. Come back over here, I’m cold.”

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

MW2 Reaction to You Asking Them to be Gentle

Warnings: 18+ (Just To Be Safe), Non-Graphic Depictions of Smut, Implied Consensual Dub-Con, Dominant MW2, Jealous MW2, Slut-Shaming, Strap-On, Shock Collar, Implied Infidelity (Nobody’s Actually Cheated, it’s Just for The Bit), Age Gap (Price), Restraints, Slight Implied Dumbification, Implied Threesome, Petnames, Profanity No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Aw, am I hurtin’ you, Love ?” he asks, ceasing his pace for just a moment. His body is hot and thick behind you, a wall, a barrier.

When you nod, your eyes glistening with budding tears and your hands gripping the bed sheets, Simon places a hand upon your cheek. Gentle. His thumb strokes your chin, and his eyes are kind.

Until they aren’t.

They sharpen in an instant, and, without warning, he pulls back, inch by inch, and slams back in. You yelp, winded, wincing at the pain revitalising in your lower half. But he doesn’t let you flee, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to take all of him.

“Should’ve thought about that before practically sitting on Johnny’s cock, you little fuckin’ whore,”

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to tell him that Soap had pulled you into his lap as a joke – a gesture of friendship, not a phallic item or intention in sight – Ghost isn’t having any of it.

“You won’t even be able to sit down without thinkin’ of me,” he says. His eyes dark, he growls, pulling back for the killing finish. “Or I’ll just have to put the fear of God into you again,” And he slams in, harsh, unflinching, sharp. And you scream, your vision turning white as you reach your end.

König

“I know, Engel,” he says, breathless. His eyes are piercing, fire and ice. And a thin, cruel smile stretches across his face.

Before you can react, even hope to retaliate, he takes your wrists beneath his hands and pins them above your head. You writhe and you struggle, only to be met with a low moan from König.

“Don’t tempt me, Darling,” he says. “Or I won’t be able to control myself when I snap,”

You can tell by his tone that he’s not letting you off easily. Not after your ‘flirtatious’ conversation with the barista from your excursion into town earlier.

When you feel tears prick your throat, König shushes you.

“Oh, shh, Engel, it’s too late for tears now.” You swear you see his eye twitch. His body bears down on yours, scorching and heavy and impossible to fight.

He lowers his head beside your ear, and, sibilant, licks the shell.

“Besides,” he whispers. He grinds into you. Slowly. Warning.

“You wouldn’t want to encourage me now, would you ?”

Soap

“Oh no, Bonnie; the time for kindness and compassion is over,” Johnny said as he tightened his belt around your wrists, pulling it so escape was a distant dream for you. He had you caged beneath him, a smile curved with a certain brand of unscrupulousness only he could wear at his lips.

“After all, what did you say to Simon again ? That I’m ‘gentle as anything’ ?” The second you’d said it, no matter how innocent your intent, you knew you shouldn’t have. If Simon’s gaze flickering to your boyfriend, who loomed just over your shoulder, was anything to go by, you knew the end was nigh.

“Do you know,” he took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him, making you wince. “How many people I’ve killed ?”

Your heart dropped. Soap – for this was no longer the Johnny you’d come to know and love – released a brief, almost incredulous laugh. “D’ya think they’d call me gentle ? Loving and sweet ?”

Shaking your head, you hoped that by playing along you could negate whatever was coming next. Of course, any and all efforts would be in vain.

“Well,” Soap glowered, his hand encompassing your jaw, gripping you. He ground against you, growled. “I suppose I’ll just have to give you a demonstration, won’t I ?”

Valeria

“Oh ? Gentle ?” she says. Her voice is low and dangerous – you know because you’ve accidentally seen – heard – glimpses of her interrogation tapes. You know what’s coming for you – especially when she has your face pressed against her desk, her strap-on dangerously close to penetration, though hanging just out of frame. A threat.

“Is that what you thought I was going to be when you let that slimy, arrogant prick of a bartender slobber all over you ? Practically let him bend you over the counter and fuck you raw,”

Negotiation with Valeria is impossible – something else you’d gleaned from her tapes. And denial is even worse. But admitting to what she was accusing you of would be the signature on your death warrant. And she knows she has you cornered.

You can feel her tip prodding your hole. She didn’t even bother to lubricate you or prepare you.

“Shouldn’t need to. What, with that bartender already having done that for me.”

She knows the bartender did no such thing, but feeling you cower beneath her is too euphoric for her to even comfort you.

Without warning, she slams into you, only stopping halfway when your body refuses to take more of her, her obscenely long strap-on too thick for you to even fathom as you cry out, scream, tears falling to the desk’s surface beneath you.

Price

“You think, after all you’ve done, that you deserve my mercy ?”

Price’s grip on his belt was palpable, tightening, making the leather whine and whimper in his grasp. You could feel his teeth gritting, his stare hard. His voice held a cynicism you’d scarcely heard in his tone before. Not directed towards you, anyway.

“You go and chat up another guy and you have the audacity to believe that you’re worthy of even an ounce of my sympathy ?”

The context behind Price’s upset was all rooted in misunderstanding; he’d seen some younger, attractive guy chatting you up, and you, trying to be polite until your boyfriend returned, smiled. Which, in John’s eyes, was reciprocation. And now, you were paying the price.

“Tell you what,” he said, his stern features shifting to portray ill intent, an idea sparking in his mind. He lunged, grabbed you by your ankle and pulled you down the bed – closer to him. His belt remained gripped in his other hand.

“If you can take – say – twenty lashes, and count them – without missing a single one – I’ll think about being gentle.”

He brought his belt down on your thigh, making you cry out. “And then you can tell me all about how he’d be gentle with you – how he could unravel you like I can.” His gaze, dark with the oncoming storm, narrowed. “How he can have you like this.”

Horangi

“Is that what you said to König when he had you like this ?” Horangi hissed. He had you pinned beneath him, eyes blackened with the false conviction of your infidelity.

And, try as you might to ease his misunderstanding, to remind him that he’s the only one you love, you hear something.

The squeak of hinges, the swinging of the bedroom door opening.

You couldn’t see – think – for Horangi’s frame bolted to yours, but through the rushing of blood and Horangi’s beration, you heard a most unmistakable tone.

“Liar, liar, liar,” came König’s voice, punctuated with three broad, heavy steps. He loomed over Horangi’s shoulder, arms behind his back, the smile of deceit a tune upon his face.

A slinking, sly smile threaded Horangi’s lips as he kept his eyes on you, turning his head to address König. “I’ll see how much truth I can get out of (Y/N) first,” he said, and, like a soundtrack, the sound of König’s belt sliding from his pants lay a dark undertone – the instrument. “Then it’s your turn.”

One hand collecting your wrists, the other tearing the belt from his jeans, Horangi gave you his full, undivided attention. As did König. “Seeing as you’re so desperate for another man on the side,” said Horangi, “Let’s see how you take both of us.”

Alejandro

“Don’t lie to me, mi Corazon,” Alejandro says, ignoring your plea, one hand around your throat, the other on your thigh, grasping, groping, grabbing at your skin.

“I saw you – whispering in his ear, telling him God-knows-what,”

Alejandro is on top of you, his weight an immovable object, his stare dark and unforgiving. You can feel him sat just out of reach of your epicentre, but not out of bounds.

What he’d seen was you, smiling, whispering into Rudy’s ear about something sultry. What had actually happened was you were confirming the details of Alejandro’s surprise birthday party with him, smiling because you were so excited to get it organised.

But you couldn’t tell Alejandro that; it would ruin the surprise !

When Alejandro’s more tame efforts to get you to talk proved fruitless, he took to his preferred method of extraction.

He ground against you, letting out a low, shuttering moan.

“You can’t hide the truth from me forever,” he said, with all the conviction of one who has only ever known truth. “So if you’re not gonna tell me while you still have your faculties,” He squeezed your throat, his other hand slithering up your thighs, stopping shy of your centre and unbuckling his belt.

“I’ll just have to force it out of you. Break you down until you’re nothing but a fuck toy.” His eyes are almost black now. “My fuck toy.”

Rodolfo

“Next time you want someone gentle, why don’t you go running to Alejandro, seeing as you seem to like having him slobber over you.”

You couldn’t argue back, couldn’t defend yourself, your mouth gagged with a t-shirt Rudy had tied around your head. You couldn’t even unravel it, Rodolfo’s hands pinning yours beside your head as he pressed into you from behind.

“Hm ? Got nothing to say, mi Corazon ?” Rudy sneers. “Pity, seeing as you couldn’t shut the fuck up around your boyfriend earlier.”

As if to drive the point home, to hit the nail on the head, he rammed into you, making you whine, the shirt soaking up your cries and your drool. Your eyes shone with tears, but you dared not cry – not around Rudy. Not while he had you at his mercy.

“You won’t stop until you have all of us wrapped around your little finger, will you.” he said. It wasn’t a question, nor did he allow you to answer as he slammed into you again. “Luckily for you, I’m a good man. One who knows how to handle injustice when he sees it.” His grip on your thighs was almost painful, and were it not for the reluctant euphoria building within you, you’d have tried to break free.

“It’s up to me to force it out of you – to erase that entitled mindset of yours.” He pulled out, forced all of himself back inside, sharp. His breath shuttered while yours choked, your scream caught in your throat.

“Don’t worry, Ángel,” he breathed, lowering himself so his lips were to your shoulder, pressing a deceptively soft kiss there. “By the time I’m done, there won’t be a single thought left in that brain of yours apart from me.”

Graves

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Whore – you lost that privilege hours ago,” Graves says, threat heavy in his voice. He stands over you, face awash with a dense egoism you know is only worn when he has decided to take his frustrations out on you.

And today is no exception.

The collar about your neck is a reminder of all that you stand to lose should you fail to comply with Graves’ vision – your freedom; made excruciatingly clear to you by the locked bedroom door behind him, the key hanging in the lock.

No matter how you try to reason with Graves, he is having none of it.

“Shh, Sweetheart, now’s not the time for tears–” he says. The threatening tone in his voice remains, only the name he calls you changes. And the more endearing they become, the closer to danger you are.

He slides open the bedside table, reaches in and withdraws a pair of silver handcuffs, clinking together with a deceptive veneer of gentile.

“If you wanna get on my good side again, you have to do exactly as I say, precisely when I say so.” He cocks his head, a slim, coy smile spreading across his face like a disease. “Y’understand, Beautiful ?”

Gaz

“Gentle, gentle – is that all you have to say for yourself ?” Gaz spat, pacing back and forth before you as he kept a keen, sharp eye on you. “After everything you’ve done tonight, you think I’ll let you off easy ?”

The ‘everything’ Gaz was referring to had been your efforts to get a reaction out of him. Bending over at inopportune times, accidentally only wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers while the rest of your clothes were in the wash (or had mysteriously vanished.

And, your worst offence, sitting under his desk while he held a very important online call with Captain price. All the while, you’d poked and prodded and stroked him, tested his resolve, his patience.

And, evidently, you’d gone too far.

With the remote to the shock collar squeezing your neck attached to the very fibres of his hand, Gaz held all the cards, your sanity the Ace of the deck.

Before you could try to defend yourself, a thin spark sent you yelping, made you jump. Your hands flew to the collar, trying to pull its rounded teeth — the conductors – from your skin.

Gaz only smiled. “Oh no, Love – I won’t be gentle,” his tone was low, a serpent in the grass, his visage matching as he lowered himself to your level, eyes aglow with a piercing darkness. “If only you’d behaved, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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natalievoncatte · 3 months

Text

Alex slowed her breathing, finally. She was okay. Kara was okay. Her sister was okay. There was a lot for her to think about after the last few days but right now all that mattered was that she was sitting on Kara’s couch holding a beer, just relaxing with her sister and the two cold ones she’d already slammed back.

Alex stretched out her legs and put her feet on the table. Things were going good. This Children of Liberty were getting mopped up, Kara was… Kara seemed okay, she had a date with Jimmy (James! *James!*) Olsen’s hot sister that she had a feeling was going places, and it looked like the next few weeks or months would settle into a run of the mill routine of alien mop-ups and bank robberies, while Kara was in the running for a Pulitzer.

Alex sighed, contentedly, and then Kara popped up from the couch and said “Lena’s in the hallway.”

Alex smiled secretly to herself.

“Go get ‘er,” she said, stifling a burp. “Tiger.”

Kara shot back an odd look, and Alex wondered when she’d figure it out herself.

After all, filling an office with flowers was not a romantic gesture. Nor were the saves and hugs and little forehead touches. Alex and Nia had talked about starting a betting pool. Shit, there were rumors in the press.

It seemed that Lena and Kara were the only two people in the world that didn’t realize that dropping almost a billion dollars on a whim for someone is not what friends are fucking for.

Kara rushed to the door and yanked it open.

Lena stood in the hallway looking shellshocked and shaken, eyes wide and trembling. Kara half-lifted, half ushered her inside and slammed the door.

“Lena?” she said. “Lena what is it, what’s wrong?”

Alex sobered up in an instant -mostly- and was on her feet. She saw the bulge in the pocket of Lena’s hoodie and fixed her eyes on it. Lena seemed to remember that she had something in there and pulled out a gun.

“Lena?!” Kara chirped.

Alex’s hand flew to the nonexistent holster on her hip; she’d locked her gun in a drawer when she started with the beer. She caught herself, scolded herself. Lena was a friend. To Kara she was more than a friend.

Alex rushed forward instead. Lena didn’t resist as Alex took the gun, a brightly polished and valuable classic Colt Python six shot with a chopped barrel and coco bolo wood stocks, a real high end custom job. A rich girl’s gun, if a bit bigger than a girl would normally carry.

“Whoa, you have a permit for this?” Alex said, trying to be cute.

“I shot Lex.”

Kara tensed, rushing from behind Lena, dipping down as she put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders.

Oh fuck.

“You couldn’t have,” said Lena. “I… it was me, when we fought in Sentinel Island.”

“He used this,” said Lena, pulling her hand out of her pocket with a watch in her fingers. “It’s a portal watch. He can teleport with it.”

“He must have had it as a backup,” said Alex. “Teleported out before impact.”

Kara shot her a shocked look.

“What do you mean?” said Kara, “What do you mean you shot him?”

“Two to the chest, one to the head,” Lena repeated, robotically. “We want ‘em alive but we’ll take ‘em dead. Lex taught me when I was twelve.”

“Lena,” Alex said, as she flicked open the cylinder and saw there were three shells left in the gun. “You’re not making sense.”

Lena looked at her.

“I knew where he’d go. I knew what he’d do. So I got there first. I was going to stop him, make sure that he didn’t get away, then call for help. I didn’t want to do it. He made me.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

Lena looked at her and Alex tensed.

Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Oh shit.

“He was going to kill you. You were becoming his latest fixation. He couldn’t get to Superman so he’d get you. I tried to stop him but I was too late.”

“Me? Why would he care about me?” said Kara. “I’m nobody.”

Lena stared at her, looking directly into her eyes.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Alex almost dropped the gun. She gaped at Lena, open-mouthed. Kara’s eyes went wide and panic shocked through her face.

Alex waited for the excuse, the denial, the deflection.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I am. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, I swear I was,” her voice cracked and began to waver. “I know I lied. I,”

Lena grabbed the collar of Kara’s sweater, and when she pulled, Alex briefly thought that she was lunging in to kiss Kara. Instead she pulled her into a hug and Kara hugged her back, fiercely and protectively. Alex stood there dumbly with the murder weapon hanging from her hand.

“I was too late. I’m sorry. I was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Alex demanded, panic rising hot in her chest. “Too late for what, Lena?”

Still tucked in Kara’s arms, Lena turned her head and looked at Alex.

“He already did it. Turn on the TV.”

Alex swallowed, hard.

She walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off Netflix and switching back to cable.

She didn’t have to flip channels. It was on every station. Every network. Alex and Kara’s phones were buzzing wildly on the table.

“Oh shit,” said Alex.

***

Should I continue this one?

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #identity reveal #Kara’s identity revealed to the world #alternate end to s4 #alternate beginning to s5 #Alex was just trying to drink damn it

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sooniebby · 11 months

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝟯: 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲/𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗲/𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴

Bottom trans male reader. Reader’s lower part is called interchangeable: cunt, pussy, clit, folds, heat, hole. No mention of anything feminine. Reader has had top surgery. Don’t read if this can cause dysphoria for you (to trans masc <3 I have other stories!)

“You really suck at this game, huh?”

Your friend, Levi is smirking at you. His lilac dyed hair messy from taking off his headphones as his eyes stared right at you. You roll your eyes and toss the controller onto the coffee table in front of you, ignoring the strained hiss that leaves Levi at the action.

“Yeah, yeah. What do you want this time?”

“You know what I want!” He grinned. “Food, as always.”

You frown. But this wasn’t your usual frown of being forced to pay… it was more of: “uh, how do I tell him that I really can’t afford being one week of food for him?”

Levi seems to notice your internal tension as his grin slips. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I… can’t really pay for that, I’m sorry. I just got left off on my job.”

“Oh,” Levi shrugged. “It happens. You can pay me in another way, if you really can’t afford it.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Anything but paying for something.”

“Great, be my maid.”

“Su—excuse me?” You blink, looking at Levi for any type of look of mischief in his eyes. But he only chuckles and grins.

“You said ‘anything’. A maid is anything,” he said casually, turning off the gaming system as you could only blink in slight horror.

“But—”

He pressed a finger on your lips. “Don’t worry, it’ll be pleasurable for you too. You can just stay at my place for the week.”

At first, you really didn’t know what he could’ve meant by that. But the next day after you woke up, you soon found out what could possibly be pleasurable about being a maid.

You were making breakfast for Levi. Simple enough—you expected that. As you began to fry the eggs, you felt a hand sneak up your shirt, resting comfortably on your hips.

“Uh—”

“—pay attention to the eggs.”

You quickly turn back to facing the stove, staring at the eggs. Levi’s hand trailed across your skin, tracing little shapes on the soft curves you had before reaching your chest, gently grasping it.

“Safe word?”

“Oh—uh! I…” you glanced down at the eggs once more. “Eggs..?”

Levi’s stifled laughter was heard before he hummed, moving his hand downwards. You didn’t think that Levi would have ever viewed you in this light, somewhat sexual. But you didn’t want him to stop.

You haven’t had sex in months and after being laid off from a job, you wanted some type of stress relief.

The tension in your back began to ease as you got used to Levi’s hand against your skin. He hadn’t done anything too risky yet, simply touching all over your skin.

You grabbed the spatula and flipped the eggs. Once your focus was on all on the eggs, you felt Levi’s hand shove down your boxers and harshly grip your ass.

You gripped the countertop in shock, a meep leaving your throat at the sudden attack. Levi laughed as he began to fondle your ass. His hands were slow and calculating, gently spreading your ass apart from time to time in his ‘massage’.

“Eggs burning.”

You look down and shriek, quickly shutting the stove off as you took the pan off. The egg was only a little burnt but burnt nonetheless. With a frown, you placed the egg on the sandwich and looked back at Levi.

Levi moved his hands away from your ass and grinned. “Thanks.”

He took the plate and you thought you would’ve been left alone but he grabbed your waist and pulled you close. His hand didn’t leave your waist as he pulled you with him to living room. He plopped down on the couch and pulled you down as well, making you sit on his lap.

“Pass the remote.”

You reach over the remote and give it to him, a bit too shell-shock to really think about what was happening. How was this being a maid? You thought you were supposed to just clean and make food.

A squeak, embarrassingly, left your lips as Levi pulled you close to his chest so his chin could rest on your shoulder. He continued to eat that way, watching some random action movie you couldn’t pay attention to.

How was this even comfortable?

After his breakfast, he placed his plate on the coffee table and patted your legs.

“Go eat. I’ll come to you when I need you again.”

Once you left his lap, he left. Straight to his room. You felt a little embarrassed. Was… that it? Why did you think he was about to fuck you? With a pout, you went to the kitchen and decided to just eat some cereal.

Levi didn’t come bother you again until around lunch time. You were laying down on the couch, on your back as you flipped through channels, trying to figure out what to watch for the day.

He was silent, walking over to you. Levi got your legs and forcefully spread them apart, sitting between them. When you tried to get up, he laid his hand flat on your stomach, effectively holding you down.

You couldn’t help but shudder in excitement at his strength.

“Don’t mind me. Keep watching.”

You didn’t exactly want to do that but the way his eyes looked at you made you want to obey. You turned your attention back to the tv and tried to act natural as you found a channel playing old horror movies.

You actually began to get stuck into watching Dracula when you felt cool air on your lips. Looking over in slight fear, you saw Levi’s mouth right near your cunt. He grinned and pointed back at the tv, effectively telling you to watch the movie.

With a bit of resistance, you turned back to the tv, trying to calm yourself down.

It was like he was waiting for you to get sucked into the movie. It was only then that you felt his tongue on your clit. His… way to long of a tongue, gently caressed your clit. One of his hand was still pressing down your stomach while the other grazed your clit occasionally.

You bit your lip, trying to just focus on the movie. Your legs twitched as Levi slowly began to move downward, pressing soft kisses on your wet folds.

He pressed his hand down harder on your stomach as he leaned in and began to lick between your folds. You whimpered, finding it harder to give too fuck about vampires anymore.

Levi was slow, wanting you to get used to his tongue on your heat before he began to suck. His free hand reached over and was now continually flicking and caressing your clit. Your body began to flinch and thrust upwards, the pleasure taking over your movement.

But his one hand held you down.

Fuck, just how strong was he?

You embarrassingly felt close. His tongue was somehow reaching inside your walls while his hand skillfully touched your clit. How did he even know how to eat pussy? He told you he never slept with someone with a vagina!

He pulled away just as you were about to cum, causing you to whimper. Levi’s lower face was covered in your slick which brought a look of embarrassment on your own face.

“Thanks for lunch, (Name). It was… sweet.” His hand slipped down and gently rubbed your folds.

“Don’t…” you whimpered in embarrassment, reaching up to cover your face.

Levi simply laughed and patted your stomach before leaving. You whimpered, hating that he was leaving before you could ever cum.. what type of kink was this?!

You reached down to finish yourself off before stopping when you heard Levi yell.

“I hope you aren’t touching yourself!”

With a grunt, you pull away and stare at the tv.

For the rest of the day, Levi would always randomly come between your legs, grip them tightly and force them apart and just eat you out.

On the couch, in the bathroom, the kitchen.

Even when you tried folding his laundry. He forced your legs open and lapped at your cunt, slipping in a few fingers a bit to stretch you out.

And every time, he wouldn’t let you cum. Even if you begged, he would simply smirk and walk away.

It was after dinner that you had enough. He was treating you like a rag doll, forcing your legs open and getting his fill before leaving you.

You stormed over to his bedroom and forced the door open, seeing Levi sitting down on his bed with just a towel. He looked up at you in confusion, his head tilted.

You almost forgot why you even came in here. His lilac dyed hair was wet. His whole body was wet. You didn’t even know he had muscles.. those damn baggy clothes hid them too well for your liking.

“Need something?”

“To cum.”

Levi laughed. “Why’re you asking?”

“Because you keep eating me out and then not letting me cum, asshole!” You yelled, storming over to where he sat on the bed.

“I know. I did that for a reason.”

“Which is?”

“It’s fun seeing you squirm.”

You yelp in shock as he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the bed, moving to where he was on top of you. He leaned down, his breath right near your ear.

“I wanted to make sure you only cummed on my cock.”

Levi leaned back and slipped off his towel, his cock now free. “I think you deserve it now after being so good.”

You quickly move up a bit on the bed, taking off your shirt and boxers. Levi gripped your waist and pushed back down onto the bed.

“How do you want it?”

It seems this was the first time he actually wanted you to ask for something.

“I.. wanna see your face.” You muttered, hating how most of the times he ate you out, you were always forced to pay attention to something else.

Levi hummed and simply smirked. “Then don’t look away.”

He sat on the bed and pulled you onto his lap. You blushed as you watched him lap down a bit and look up at you with a grin. His eyebrows quirked up as he waited for you to continue.

You flushed in embarrassment, not used to having take control at the moment. With shaky legs, you gripped his cock and pressed it against your wet cunt. Your hole easily took Levi’s cock as you slid down.

Your body shivered once he was fully inside, your hands sprawled on his chest. “Y…you’re so big, damn it..”

“You can handle it~ you’re already taking me well.”

You blush but felt encouraged enough to begin to ride Levi’s cock. From the built up tension, you were already about to cum. Your heat tightened around his cock as you began to unabashedly moan and cry.

Levi simply watched, his eyes at the sight of your connection to him. Your dripping heat that eagerly took his cock.

“N…ngh… I.. I’m go—” you cried out, your pussy clamping down on your cock as your began to cum. You even squirted a bit, right into his abs.

Levi’s cock was still hard inside of you as he reached over and began to lightly rub your clit, earning a whine of overstimulation from you.

“I don’t know why I didn’t ask you to be my damn maid instead of fucking food all those other times… fuck, (Name), you’re such a good boy, huh?”

You eagerly nod, looking down at him with teary eyes. Your body was covered in sweat as your hair was messy. You hole still clenched around his cock, even after cumming. It was missing something.

“This,” he rubbed your clit, “is mines forever, hm? You’ll be a good boy and be mines to use whenever I please?”

You nod. “Y…yes..”

“You like that, huh? Being my good boy.”

“Yes…”

You didn’t know you could sound so whiny.

“Then…” his hands harshly gripped your waist. A cruel smirk on his lips. “You need to be a good boy and let me use this cunt of yours.”

He thrusted. His thrusted were harsh and crazed. Levi was obviously chasing his release and he was using you as if you were fleshlight. You moaned unapologetically, though it could’ve sounded like cries.

Suddenly, you were on your back and his hips were driving roughly into yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and reached up to grip his neck as you arched your back in pleasure.

Levi reached up and gripped your neck, though not to choke you. He simply held it as some sort of purchase as he stared right down at you. His face strained heavily as he kept up his fast pace.

You couldn’t help but wail, feeling embarrassed that your friend was seeing you in such a way.

“Don’t hide from me.”

He moved his hand up to grip your chin and turn you back to face him as he leaned down and captured your lips into a kiss.

The kiss felt… awfully soft in comparison to his harsh thrusts. Speaking of which, he slammed into your heat and held in close as his cock began to cum deep inside of you.

You felt yourself cum too, clamping down on his cock as you felt yourself shake in pleasure. Your moans swallowed by Levi’s lips on yours.

After a minute or so, he pulled away from the kiss and looked down at you, smirking at your fucked out face.

You could only whimper, feeling the cum inside of your heat.

“Hope you can handle this for six days straight.”

Levi teased. But all you could think was that six days certainly weren’t enough.

After those six days… you were certainly going to purposefully lose those bets again to get dicked down by your friend.

Maybe it was a blessing you already sucked at video games.

Hope this one was hot enough. It came out way longer than expected. It’s my first time really describing being eaten out so hopefully it worked out well lolol!

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @kaedezu @nakedtoasterr @mello-life69 @iwishtobeacrow @loivre @millecka @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @ofclyde @tomoeroi @tehyunnie @remdayz

#bottom male reader #oc x reader #male reader #original character #mlm ns/fw #uke male reader #trans nsft #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #smut drabble

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maxlarens · 19 days

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pairing(s): engineer!george russell x driver!reader

brought on entirely by this ask thank you anon i owe you a great debt😭 also light angst beware.

You’re more angry than anything.

What a stupid mistake, taking the turn like that. Too hard too fast too reckless. Never careful enough, like George always presses you to be. You feel shame churning in the hollow of your chest in the back of the safety car.

You’re on the way to medical. You would be even if you didn’t have an ache in your neck. Something sharp in your chest. You’ve fractured a rib, you think. Broken it even. You know this feeling, the whiplash of a crash. Waiting to have your injuries confirmed.

You think of the car, the smell of smoke registering as you took a second to reorient yourself. To remember all of your limbs. Ringing in your ears, then George. George, prompting your reply over and over. Tone clipped, hurried, near-frantic, still-professional. The car is on fire. You need to get out of the car, now. And your limbs snapping back into awareness, into motion—

You’re fine now. Angry mostly.

You let the doctor check you over, refer you for an ultrasound for the rib. It hurts when they press on it. You’re left with a manila folder to give to your team and an order to take it easy for the rest of the day.

Outside the medical building you can hear the cars on track. It puts something sick in the pit of your stomach. At least it’s only FP2. You’ve not utterly ruined a race, and the team still have time to fix your mess. Still. Still.

You turn a corner to make your way back to Mercedes hospitality, you find George instead.

He looks like someone’s taken a livewire to him. His head of usually soft curls is messy, hair standing half on end. He’s got those serious, shell-shocked eyes that always appear when his smile vanishes. You frown as his head snaps to you, alerted by the sound of gravel underfoot.

“Shit,” you blink and he’s already halfway to you, “Are you alright? What did they say?”

His hands are on your shoulders, pulling you toward him and you’re not thinking anything in particular about that. Just grappling with his sudden closeness. His apparent worry. So apparent that someone’s sent him here to medical, to you instead of having his valuable input on the pit wall.

“I’m fine,” you push his hands off you, “I’ll just need an ultrasound. It’s nothing.”

“Did they check you for smoke inhalation?” he presses on, despite your attempt at deflecting, “Your car was on fire.”

You shrug, shake your head, “I dunno, George. They checked my breathing I guess.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath and feel him start to move toward the building. You grab his wrist, haul him back, knowing he’ll march you in there and demand they check if you don’t reassure him.

“I’m fine,” you insist, “No smoke inhalation. Not even a cough.”

He’s looking down at you, jaw set, the line of his mouth severe. So serious as he checks you over like he has x-ray vision— as if he can see things the doctors can’t because he’s more worried than they are. You’re keenly aware of your fingers looped around his wrist, the feeling of his pulse, his skin, the tender way his hand reaches to grab your wrist in kind.

Your relationship feels different here. In this moment.

The closeness of a driver and her engineer has never escaped you. From the moment you met him for the first time in Brackley— tall, cheerful, a bit awkward, a little overbearing— you’d known that you’d be close. That’s the nature of it. You didn’t have to be charmed by his sincerity to predict that.

But you’d grown closer than you would have ever thought. You know his quirks, his idiosyncrasies. How he has his tea, the clothing brand he buys all his clothes from, the way speaks to waiters like they’re old friends, the overly friendly nature that masks a man who’s just nervous people won’t like him. He knows yours.

Your proclivity for being reckless on track, because winning is everything and what are you if you’re not a winner? How you have three shots of espresso in your coffee every morning. The way you cry your eyes out at father-daughter moments in movies. Your ache to be loved and your accompanying fear of commitment.

George is like no-one else. No ex, no best friend, no situationship knows you like George does.

Inside and out.

Anyway. Your hand on his wrist, your aching rib, him standing outside medical when he should be on the pit wall. It makes your head spin.

He closes the distance between the two of you. Hauls you into his flat chest and weaves his fingers into your hair, cradling the back of your head like he might lose you. Something wells in the top of your throat. The back of your neck feels gooey, soft, as he holds you. As if all the tension is easing out of you.

You take a deep breath, wrap your hands around his waist. Fireproofs against the bare skin where his Mercedes polo has hiked up. He says something into your hair that you can’t hear. The tone of it gets you anyway, the fondness.

You hiccup, hating yourself for it.

Then you’re crying. Shock of the crash wearing off, unable to ignore the comfort of being held up physically and emotionally by George. Tears, wet, hot are streaming down your face. Soaking George’s shirt.

“You’re okay,” he says into your ear, rocking the two of you back and forth in the gravel, “You’re okay, I promise.”

You know you are. Logically. But hearing George say it makes it easier to believe. You think, even, that he might be saying it for himself too.

#george russell x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #💫drabbles #drabbles:gr63 #engineer!george #driver!reader

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amberluvsbugs · 4 months

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Some traditional art I did while in Texas to see the solar eclipse :D First impression of the eclipse left me shell-shocked, speechless and a bit convoluted. I was in awe that I was able to see it, I've been waiting for years for this moment. But at the same time, I was scared by just how small I really felt in this vast moment, mesmerized by the sight of seeing it with my own eyes (IT'S NOT THE SAME AS PICTURES), and sad that I wouldn't be able to see this event again for a very long time. Those 4 minutes and 24 seconds of totality felt like they were so fast, and yet so slow. Words can't describe the feeling of seeing it. I will be making more illustrations cause holy fuck I’m still reeling from it.

#Solar eclipse #Eclipse 2024 #traditional art #Sketch #My persona #I got myself a necklace from this event cause wow #Fucking wow #Absolutely incredible #I got sunburned after wards but you know what #I will call it a kiss from the eclipse #Ill probs color this in later idk

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 7 months

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shower sex with 07 raph?! 🤭😩

Shower Sex (18+)

2007!Raphael x reader

A/N: And two weeks later, it is finally here! Some quick shower sew with Raphie boy! Hope you enjoy❤️

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Sex (of course. Very creative of me), spelling.

“Fuck”, Raph groaned as he slowly pulled out of you your still swollen cunt. You whimpered at the loss of Raph’s cock, filling empty as you clung around nothing. Raph down beside you, his eyes closed with heavy breathing, sweat running down his skin, just like yours. “That was exactly what I needed”.

You chuckled at your boyfriend, snuggling closer to him, feeling his toned arm wrap around you. “Too tired for a second round?”, you asked in a teasing tone, resting your head on his chest, sneaking your weak naked legs around his, whimpering slightly at the small pain in your muscles.

“I’m never too tired for a second around”, Raph laughed, pulling you in closer to him. “But I could use a shower”.

“Me too”, you said, grimacing at the smell that came from your sweaty skin. You could only imagine how badly you smelled to your boyfriend with his heightened sense of smell. It could not be nice.

You and Raph went into your bathroom, turning on the shower head, letting it run as you got ready. Finding towels for the two of you, making sure they were ready when you got out of the shower. Raph took off his bandana, before reaching a hand into the shower, feeling the temperature, acting like he couldn’t feel your eyes on the back of his head.

You often found yourself staring at Raph, wondering how you could have been so lucky to have a boyfriend like him, admiring his features when you thought he wasn’t looking. A mutant turtle with the wildest stamina, and the most caring personality you had ever encountered. He was incredibly handsome and extremely talented in everything he did. He was everything you could have ever wanted and yet so much better.

Your eyes traveled over Raph’s body, the curve of his shell and the form of his toned muscles, and how they flexed whenever he moved, along with the soft movements of his small tail that poked out underneath his shell. Your thoughts went straight to what you and Raph had been doing in your bathroom just a few moments ago. How he had been pounding into you, keeping you moaning and whimpering in absolute bliss. The small flashback made your stomach tingle, a small rush of excitement running down between your legs.

Raph turned to you, his eyes doing a quick run over of your still naked body, lingering at your mount between your thighs. Even with the water running next to him, he knew what you were feeling. He could smell it, a smirk spreading on his face.

“Like what you’re seeing?”, he asked, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine, directly towards your lower region, only making your sweet scent stronger for Raph’s nose. There were still times where he almost couldn’t believe that this was real. You, such a beautiful human, being in love with him, your body reacting to him in such beautiful ways.

“Of course I do”, you said, taking a few steps towards him, your soft fingertips reaching for his toned biceps. “I could stare at you for hours”.

“You’re saying it like you don’t do that already”, Raph chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, keeping his still wet hand inside the shower. His dry hand going a little lower on your back, reaching closer and closer to your ass, slowly grabbing on to it, enjoying the small sound that came out of you. “You stare like I haven’t just fucked your brains out a moment ago”.

You bit your lip, not sure what to say. Raph would always shock you with such comments, causing excitement to build up inside of you. The glint in his eyes and the smirk that played in his lips. You could feel the heat build up between your legs, slowly moving them together in an attempt to create some type of fiction. And Raph loved it when his straight-forward comments did such things to you.

“I can’t help it”, you smiled, feeling your cheeks getting hot, not from embarrassment but by the increasing beat of your heart. Yet another bit to your lips as you took in his features once more. The things just the sight of him could do to you. You still remembered the days before you got together, where you could only pleasure yourself to the thought of him. “You just look too good for me not to stare”.

Raph chuckled, pulling you with him under the rushing water of the shower head. You hummed in delight at the comfortable temperature, as it fell over you and Raph, wetting your skin and slowly washing the sweat off, drop by drop.

The hand that still rested on your butt cheek another squish, making your jump a little, your eyes meeting his playful once. Obviously your previous comment had stroked his ego just the right way, making his thoughts and hands tingle with the desire to feel around your skin once more.

You didn’t get to say a word before his lips found yours in a playful kiss, just like they had done inside your bedroom. You hummed against his lips and rested your arms around his neck, parting your mouth slightly as his tongue asked for entrance.

Raph’s other hand found your other ass cheek, pulling you closer to him, grinding you ever so slowly against his cloaca, churning as small sounds escaped your lips, being just loud enough for him to hear through the sound of water hitting the bathroom tiles.

One of the hands went from your ass, slowly over your hip, getting closer and closer to the growing heat between your legs, that was only getting stronger. Stronger for your nerves, and stronger for Raph’s nose.

“Already ready for round two?”, he asked in a low voice, that almost made you close your breath, as his lips still lingered against yours. His hand dipping down between your legs, doing a smooth sweep over your already slick folds, making sure to give your still sensitive clit a small flick, making you shiver at his touch.

“I’m always ready for you, Raph”, you smiled, leaning your head back just a little.

In one swift move, Raph picked you up, once again with both hands on your cheeks in order to support you. You yelped and brought your legs around his torso, as far as his shell allowed you to. He was quick to press you up against the tile wall, making you squirm a little as your back came into contact with the cold stone. However you soon felt warmth spread through you once more, as you felt Raph press his cloaca up against your entrance, lining himself up with you.

“Then let’s skip the foreplay”, he groaned as he slowly humped against you, listening to your heavy breathing. “I’m going to drop straight into you”.

You whimpered a little, feeling yourself getting wetter by his words. Raph had never been a Shakspear, but his words did something to you everytime. Making you hot and excited for when he would fill you out, even if he had done so a little earlier in the day.

“Please do it, Raph”, you whimpered, clinging onto him as he continuously grounded himself against you, already feeling the desire burn inside of you at the thought of him filling your freshly fucked cunt up once again.

“I love it when you’re eager”, Raph growled with that self satisfied smirk of his, feeling himself getting closer and closer to drop inside of you. His lips found yours once again, pressing himself closer to you, you breast pressed up against his plastron - a feeling both of you loved.

You gasped, your mouth open wide as you felt Raph drop into you, stretching your very sensitive walls as made his way into you. Raph groaned, not letting you relax before he was fully inside of you, your walls instinctively clinging around his shaft and sensitive head.

With the water still raining down over you, Raph started moving, pulling himself out of you before pushing back in, making you rest your head against the wall.

“How can you always feel so good?”, Raph asked between thrust, slightly increasing his speed, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Fuck!”

The sound of your wet skin slapping together started to echo against the tile walls, only becoming faster and faster as you bounced against the wall, Raph’s dick hitting the most amazing spots inside of you.

You were surprised at how fast the pressure was building in your lower region. You blamed the good fucking Raph had given you just before the shower, and all of your overly sensitive spots, but you could not complain. It felt amazing, just like any other time Raph pounding into you.

Raph felt your walls slowly close around him, groaning as he rested his head against your shoulder, pressing small kisses to your pulse point.

“Raph!”, you called out, your nails digging into his skin. “Keep going! Fuck! I’m getting close!”

Raph growled, quickly pulling your legs up over his forearms, before thrusting into you once again, his speed only getting greater, the bottom of his plastron rubbing deliciously against your clit. You cried out in pleasure, not caring one bit that your neighbors might have gotten very tired of you at that point.

Your toes started to curl as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, fighting to ground yourself with the grip you had on Raph’s shoulder, the water rolling down your body making all of your nerve endings light on fire, along with Raph’s heavy breathing and beautiful voice.

With a scream of pleasure, your second orgasm of the day rolled over you, causing your walls to clench around Raph, pushing him over the edge as well. With a loud and raspy moan, Raph came, emptying himself inside of you with each of his strokes.

Raph got ready to pull out, only for you to stop him, still with your legs over his forearms.

“Not yet”, you breathed, remembering how empty you felt when he pulled out of you earlier. “Just a little longer”.

Raph chuckled with a slight head shake, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re something else, (Y/N)”, he said, making sure he had a good hold on you. With his strength, he could easily hold you up for a little longer. “Thought we agreed to take a shower”.

“Just a moment”, you smiled tiredly. “And then a third round after a few snacks”.

“Deal”.

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redflagshipwriter · 1 month

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Check yes Chapter 9 Part 1

masterpost

Danny’s romantic daydream was slightly thwarted by Jason’s cruel practicality. He sulked mightily over the many indignities he was forced to suffer as they made an apartment pitstop on the way to the restaurant.

“We don’t want to do anything associated with Bats face out,” Jason said, pulling a dark blue sweater down over Danny’s head. Danny made a muffled sound of unhappiness before his head popped out the neck hole, hair mussed and expression grumpy as fuck. “And you are going to stand out way too much with half sleeves at night, sorry to say. The grannies would come out to beat me with sticks for dragging you out in the night air half dressed.”

Danny grunted and struggled a little bit to make it clear that he was unhappy. Jason sort of snorted about it and held out a weird little half mask for him. Resentfully, Danny stuffed it in his pocket for later. Blegh.

“Thanks, doll.” Jason turned back to his closet before he could see the red explosion across Danny’s face. Shell-shocked, Danny stood there for a moment as Jason shucked his leather jacket and peeled off the shirt underneath to reveal an incredibly clingy sportstech shirt with a bat icon on the front. He then put on a different but basically identical jacket and doublechecked the front pocket for a red eye mask. Danny watched a bit dubiously as he zipped it up to cover the red bat icon on his chest. Was this really enough to keep a secret identity? He watched as Jason pulled some tinted gel through his hair to cover the white streak in his hair and change the way his hair set.

‘I guess the overall impression changes enough,’ Danny grudgingly admitted, if only to himself. ‘Something about the lapels on the other jacket made it look less combat-tech than this one. Maybe that was his nice leather jacket.’

“If it helps,” Jason continued, “that sweater is Dick’s. He’ll recognize it as a taunt. It’s also practical, but hey.” He shrugged as he turned around. He frowned. “Ya kay?”

“I’m fine,” Danny snapped. He buried his chin in the collar of Dick’s pullover and huffed. He turned his face away to hide the flush on his face. “You owe me a candle dinner. Spaghetti, red wine, the works.”

Jason snickered. “Do you mean candle lit?” he asked.

Danny tracked back what he’d said and then decided to double down. “You wouldn’t let me eat a single candle? Romance is dead.” He sneered to show off one of his, frankly impressive, canines.

Unbidden, he remembered Dick asking if Jason was a monsterfucker.

‘I hope he is.’

He went red again. “Let’s go,” Danny yowled and spun on his heel, Dick’s sweater flapping around him. He yanked open the door to Jason’s apartment and rushed out without waiting for approval of any sort. He heard cursing, shuffling, and then the sound of keys behind him. Danny jogged down the stairs just to get a chance to let the flush fade.

#red check yes #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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Heyy:)💞could I request something in which reader is a virgin and she’s afraid of her first time and like unsure if she feels ‘ready’ for it but also doesn’t want to come of as prude and the character you’re writing for just comforts her and tells her it’s fine🌞Any character you’re writing for would be fine!!:))) have a great dayyy🫶

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, oral (fem recieving), virgin reader

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 958 words

Steve’s hands are strong and warm on your waist, dipping lower. You roll your hips against his, and the sound that emerges from him is half-moan, half-laugh. He kisses you dizzy.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at your back pocket.

“Yeah,” you say without thinking.

You trust Steve. You haven’t been dating long, but you can tell he’s a good guy. He has a tendency to act overconfident and then backtrack immediately, which he says he’s working on. He’s genuine when it counts. Nice to you in all the ways that matter.

It’s not until your jeans hit the floor, where Steve’s shirt already lies, that you start to think about the implications of losing those bits of clothing. Whether or not you want them.

Steve grabs big handfuls of your ass, your flesh pudging between his fingers. He flips you over.

You giggle at the suddenness of it, and he drinks in the sound happily, lips curving over yours. You press kiss after kiss after kiss into his mouth, giddy and lost in him. After a while, he dips his head to move his attentions to your neck. Your breaths become gaspy, head tilting sideways to grant him better access as your eyes flutter closed.

You don’t even notice his hand moving until his fingers wiggle under the waistband of your panties.

You go still. Then try to relax again. Try to embrace it. His fingers slide over your folds, already slicked, while his thumb searches for your clit. He finds it, circling tantalizingly. You try to get lost again. It’s not hard. Soon you’re panting, tangling your hand in Steve’s hair as his mouth sponges over your pulse. He slips one thick finger into you, then two. Scissoring.

You try to make your voice sound casual as can be.

“What’re you doing?”

“Opening you up.” The words are mumbled against your skin, matter-of-fact. “M’gonna get you ready, don’t worry.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Whoa, hey,” Steve laughs. “Relax for me. You okay?”

You hesitate, and his fingers still inside you, thumb slowing on your clit.

“Hey.” He sits up, looking down at you. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m not sure if—if I want—”

“Oh, oh my god.” He slips his fingers out, wiping his hand on his sheets. His other hand twitches like it wants to touch your face, but he stops it before it gets there, setting it on the bed beside your head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume…anything.”

“No, you’re good.” You try to laugh it off. “I’m being dumb. We can keep going.”

You tip your chin upward, kissing him. Steve doesn’t take the cue.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he says, sitting up a bit more, putting more distance between you. You lie back on the mattress and fight the urge to cover your face with your hands. “If you don’t feel like it, that’s cool.”

You rub your lips together. They’re still tingling. “It’s not that I don’t feel like it,” you try to explain. “It’s just that I’m not sure…I don’t know if I’m ready.” You cringe. “It feels stupid to say it.”

Steve’s eyebrows twitch together. “Ready for…?”

You give him a deadpan look, and his expression clears.

“Oh. Whoa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You shrug. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah…” He seems a bit shell-shocked. “Why did you say we could keep going? Do you want to?”

Your eyes fall thoughtlessly to where Steve’s hand rests just below your navel, your underwear a soppy mess behind it. “I don’t know,” you admit.

Steve nods like he understands, though he still looks confused. “Well, we shouldn’t do anything unless you know for sure.”

You look at him, guilt like concrete clogging your insides. “Really? You don’t think I should just get it over with?”

“What?” His face screws up. “No. Honey,” —He’s never called you that before. You melt a little— “you should want to have sex. If you’re not sure, you’re not sure. That’s fine.” You search in his tone for any hint of sarcasm or bitterness but come up empty. His hand drifts over to your hip, running the length of it. “You’re not asking because you think I want to, are you?”

It’s a silly, hypocritical stab of hurt, but it hurts nonetheless. “You don’t?”

“No, I do,” Steve says hastily. “Obviously I do. Just, that’s not a good enough reason for you to do it. And I don’t want you to get it over with, that’s for sure.”

He says the last bit wryly, glancing away from your face like he’s barely restraining an eye-roll, and you laugh. He looks back at you, grinning. Pleasantly surprised.

“I mean, it wouldn’t really reflect on you if I was getting it over with,” you say, but Steve scoffs.

“Fuck yeah it would. Sex with me should be magical, babe,” he tells you, kissing your chin firmly. “Sparks flying and butterflies and all that. The whole fireworks show.”

“Oh, you’re selling it now.”

“Not,” he does roll his eyes this time, kissing the corner of your mouth, “my intent. You tell me when you feel ready, and then I’ll start advertising, but until then don’t worry about it.” He catches your eye, and his are searching even as he raises his eyebrows playfully. “I can still give you the fireworks show other ways, if you want me to.”

You blink. “Really?”

Steve blinks harder. “Yeah! Jesus, your expectations of me are so low. Give me a little credit.” He presses kisses to your mouth, your chin, trailing down your throat, his blessed hand making its way back towards your heat. “Just sit tight, let me get you warmed up again.”

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ticktokrobotsnot · 1 year

Text

Turbulence

This is part 1.

You can read Part 2 here

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his shit-hole restaurant.

Word Count: 14k

warning: panic attacks, stabbing Richie in the ass, mentions of suicide, tax evasion lol

After years of working in restaurants as an in-house accountant, Y/n met a lot of chefs. They were all the same, especially the good ones, and the worst part was that they all thought they were so unique and tortured. They assumed that their problems justified them yelling over a broken sauce or a pierced piece of veal. They made food look pretty and they served it to people. Women have been doing that for years and you don't have people praising them for that. Now some guy with a complex does it and its art, it's magical, it's jaw dropping. No, it was a waste of time and energy.

It was food, a necessity and they had perverted it to some freak art show with conflicting flavors and overall mayhem. It was like a cult, where they convinced everyone that their ossobuco for breakfast, coq au vin for lunch, escargots de bourgogne for dinner, and crème brûlée for dessert wasn’t making them physically sick, mixing different cuisine in a failed attempt at being different. It was regular food served small, but the pretentiousness made y/n more sick than their food.

Y/n was willing to concede that Carmen wasn’t the worst chef she met. She got a job at the French Laundry a few years back and there really wasn’t a word that could adequately describe him because to her, Carmen was nothing but a shell of a man.

In their brief encounters, y/n knew Carmen didn’t have a life outside of cooking. She would watch the chefs come in at the ass crack of dawn and Carmen was always there first. Even when he came to pick up his check at the end of the day, he would grab it before running back to the kitchen to check up on some marinated before he left. The stupid hunk of meat deserved more of his attention than the women handing him his paycheck. She had to refrain her self from screaming, “Look at me you stupid fuck, I’m here giving you your paycheck, look me in the fucking eyes. That steak isn’t going to do anything but get shit out in a few hours! I'm real, look at me.”

It was an immature and one-sided hate, Carmen didn’t really deserve it. However, she found it hard to resist seeing him as an easy target, given his passive nature and frustrating obliviousness to the situation. She never actually did anything crazy like mess with his paycheck or fuck with his W-2, it was more like glaring at him when no one was looking or taking a pen that feel out from his bookbag, holding on to it for a few days, and then dropping it near his locker a few days later. It was very harmless and it felt nice to finally have someone to bother, without actually bothering them.

Every so often he would do something that would make it difficult to hate him fully. He would open the door for her when they were the first to come into work, or he would help her pick up some files that she dropped, or put that very pen back in her cup holder because he assumed that the pen was her pen to begin with. If he had said a single word to her, y/n would probably have had a bit of a crush on him but he never did, infact y/n never heard his voice. Her office was quite a walk from the kitchen so she was left wondering if he belonged to the boisterous brigade of chefs who bellowed at anything in their path, or if he truly possessed the quiet demeanor he exuded. If he were to speak a single syllable, he would transform from a mere embodiment of her job dissatisfaction into a fully-formed individual.

That's why she was confused when she got a phone call weeks after Carmen mysteriously left. The resignation was a shock to y/n, she never once expected him to quit, she thought he would die on top of the stove when his heart finally checked out from all that fat, sugar and acid at 65. She remembered mindlessly sticking his last paycheck in an envelope to ship to Chicago, maybe he got a better job there at Venteux, Brindille, or Les Nomades. They must have sent an amazing poacher for him to leave just about everything in his locker but his backpack and never look back.

“Hello, is this y/n?” Y/n sat up on her couch wondering who was calling her at 9pm on a Tuesday.

“Yeah…Who is this?’ Y/n wondered if one of her friends gave out her number without asking her again. Even if this guy had a nice voice and sounded handsome she would have to reject him based on principle.

“It's Carmen…Berzatto… from the French Laundry.” Y/n dropped her phone in shock, not knowing what knocked the wind out of her lungs more, the fact that she was getting a call from an ex-employee, the fact that he had her number in the first place, the fact that she was getting this call scandalously late, or that he actually sounded like that. Jesus, he was really holding back on her.

“Are you still there?” Y/n grabbed her phone from the floor and gave him a simple, “Yes.”

“How have you…been?” He was unsure how to approach this and he would never do this unless he was desperate, which he was.

“I have been fine, I heard you moved to Chicago, a new exciting job?”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Y/n didn’t probe because this felt like payback for all the times that she said something to him hoping that he would fill the space just for him to walk into that stupid fucking kitchen and leave her standing around like a fool.

“Umm…It's a long story but I have this restaurant that needs a bit of accounting?” Y/n didn’t say anything and let him suffer in his own silence like she used to. She chose to flop down on her couch again.

“I'm not sure what the right word is, but the books are a mess and I was wondering if you could have a look.”

“Paid of course. Obviously I'm going to pay you.” He stumbled out. Finally, y/n thought, he was fumbling which was a nice change of pace from his usual stoicism.

“What’s the place's name?”

“The Beef.” Y/n sat up on her elbows.

“I have never heard of it before, how many stars does it have?”

“It doesn't have any.”

“Okay…okay?…” Y/n was assuming that he started working at some nepo babies new pet restaurant, the pay must be amazing for him to leave like that. A part of her was proud of Carmen for choosing money over his craft.

Y/n continued, “Give me the owner’s number and we can get the details together.”

“I'm the owner.” She didn’t think that she could be rendered speechless by a guy who would probably combust if you squirted cheese-wiz within a 10 feet radius of him.

Y/n composed herself, he was calling for her which means that he needed her. She had the leverage and she wouldn’t ruin it by babbling like an idiot. “I can come by next week.”

She heard a distant sigh, “That's…yeah…yeah, that's great, we will cover travel and get you a place to stay.” Y/n wanted to be a bitch and demand first class and a five star hotel but she had a feeling that he would actually think she was being serious.

“I’ll send over the information, y/n.” The sound of her name coming out his lips felt foreign, she had never heard her name spoken like that.

“Good night, Carmen.” Just as she was about to hang up the phone she heard a quiet, “She said yes?” He doubted her. Good, y/n thought, he should doubt her, he doesn’t know anything about her and that was entirely his fault. She hung up the phone and searched up The Beef, she found a hundred restaurants with the same name. What the hell was Carmen doing at a restaurant that couldn’t even come up with an original name.

She gave herself a week to prepare even though she didn’t have a job anymore. She quit a few days after Carmen did, she had lost all motivation to go there everyday, without a target she was just flying till she splattered on the ground.

The underlying reason for her self-imposed week of preparation was a strategic move to play hard to get. Y/n wanted Carmen to realize her value and understand that he needed her and that she was just as good as him, if not better.

Immature, petty, bitchy, difficult, mean; maybe her mother was right about her after all.

A week flew by and she was at baggage claim when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a short woman in a blue apron and an eye-sore of a bandana.

“I'm Sydney, I'm new. I’m here to pick you up, Carmen says he’s sorry couldn’t do it but we have to prep for the lunch rush.” The way that Sydney looked when speaking about Carmen showed that she had a deep respect for him and a small evil part of y/n wanted to convince Sydney that Carmen was actually tied to the mob or did ballet in his spare time. Something that would knock him off of a pedestal and make him more like a person and less like a God.

Y/n picked up her luggage and wordlessly rolled it over to where Sydney had it parked. The ride to the restaurant was filled with questions that she really didn’t know the answer to, What was Carmen like in New York? What was a dish of his that y/n liked the most?

Sydney should have asked what his salary was, that y/n knew like the back of her hand. Y/n answer those questions by repeating things that other people have said about Carmen. His plum desert was to die for, he was very methodical in the kitchen, and he ran a tight ship, what more could she possibly know?

Sydney finally pulled over in a rough neighborhood and y/n wondered if Sydney needed to do an errand before they finished their journey but when she saw through the window that another guy was wearing the same color apron as Sydney, she knew that this was the famous “The Beef'' that took Carmen away from her. It wasn’t even called “The Beef'' it was called, “The Original Beef of Chicagoland '' which was somehow even worse.

Y/n told Sydney that she needed a few moments to herself and when Sydney slipped inside, y/n started sprinting towards the pub next door. She gave the bartender a sob story about how she was looking for a job next door as a waitress and how she wanted to know what the situation was next door, for her safety, before she asked for a job. The bartender bought her story and gave her a quick review of what had happened. The previous owner killed himself, shot his brains out, and now it was under new management, the old guy’s brother. Yikes didn’t even begin to cover what y/n thought but that was the best she could come up with, so...Yikes.

She ran back to the restaurant, fixed up her hair and walked in like she didn’t just hear a horrific story that was going to make it very difficult to do her job.

Y/n walked in, and she felt like she was in an alternate dimension, y/n was by no means spoiled and she had eaten in worse places than this, but the thought that Carmen Berzatto, her Carmen Berzatto, was working in a place like this felt like a joke. She wondered how stupid he looked in his chef whites, slicked back hair, and annoying long apron that looked like a skirt.

The restaurant hadn’t opened yet but she was greeted by a woman named Tina who basically rolled her eyes at y/n and then disappeared into the kitchen. Sydney chirped in with a comforting, “Yeah…she’s like that.” Y/n gave her an understanding smile. She wasn’t expecting much because nobody likes an intruder.

“Carmen said I need to look at some books. Do you know where they are…or where he is so he can tell me where they are?”

“Sdy, can you cover for me.” Y/n’s head snapped up, she recognized that voice from the phone call and was rendered speechless twice. He wasn’t wearing those migraine inducingly ugly chef whites but regular clothes with a blue apron. He had many more tattoos than she thought. His hair wasn’t slick back with gel but it was actually relaxed barring any sweat that might have pushed his hair back. Carmen was buff, which was such a shock to her that she really did feel like this was not real. And lastly, he called this “new” chef Sdy, a nickname. They were close, and y/n couldn’t explain it but that made her eyes twitch. She worked so hard to get to know him the first few months at the French Laundry and got nothing and now “Syd” got a nickname.

She took a deep breath before, “It's been a while.”

“Thanks for coming, let me show you the books.” She was surprised to hear any form of thanks from him but the lack of small talk was really nothing new. She followed him through the kitchen and heat from all the stoves made her nauseous. There was a lot of yelling and it looked like it was an overall mess both aesthetically wise and teamwork wise.

They finally got to the office, it had a worn desk littered with what looked like a fuck ton of papers, scratch that bills. Y/n looked up at Carmen who looked…ashamed. She took a deep breath before sitting down on the chair and looked up at Carmen waiting for him to give her a rundown of everything. They were behind on every bill imaginable, they hadn’t been able to pay vendors, and there were quotes for broken machines. Looks like Carmen’s brother left him a real shit show.

This felt like winning the lottery, not only was she seeing an interesting puzzle for her to solve, she was able to see Carmen look human for once. It was a shame, however, that the only human emotion that he was showing was stress but something was better than nothing. One thing that was untouched was the payroll, he never was behind on paying his workers, y/n felt a slight tug in her chest but she ignored that.

He looked down at her, and asked, “I’m going to leave this with you…umm….” And then he left the kitchen. Y/n starting grabbing floating folders and organizing. Most of the stuff was kinda sorted, but stuff like old payroll documents were in a file called “shit”, so she thought a total revamp was necessary.

It felt like y/n was an intern again, resigned to tedious work. After a few hours and a quick trip to Staples for office supplies, she had made the cluttered desk look like her old desk in the French Laundry…empty, sterile, cold.

With a deep breath she left the kitchen to find Sydney so she could unlock her car so that y/n could grab her laptop. The heat was bad, but the yelling was mind scrambling. It felt like she was dropped in a war zone trying to find where she parked her car, an innocent civilian amongst the war torn soldiers. She couldn’t be here any longer, she practically ran over to Sydney and asked for her car keys and was mindlessly directed to some lockers. Y/n could tell that she was busy so she didn’t ask which one in particular.

She started opening random lockers, and after her third one she saw a familiar sight. A brown wool jacket, the same one she had seen Carmen wear in New York, she quickly shut the door. This was too much, he was becoming a bit too human, too real. She finally found the right locker and rushed to get her laptop and the rest of her luggage and shut the office door.

She spent the first quarter of her day digitizing payroll as a quick warm up, she had a feeling that she would need it.

Y/n moved on to a leather bound book under a gas bill and after a quick glance she knew that this was going to be a fucking disaster. Whoever did the books used different coloured pens, was writing outside the lines, circling stuff randomly, doodling, and this was just the visual disaster, the closer she looked at the chicken scratch the more she realized how deep in debt this palace was. Thousands of dollars were being drained seemingly randomly and then money was being put back just as chaotically. There was no record of how the money was being spent or where the money was coming from. Even though y/n didn’t know Carmen very well she knew he would never do this, it was that brother of his. The inside of the cover said Micheal Berzzato.

She spent the rest of the day organizing the accounts payable and receivables. It was like trying to go through a dense forest with a pair of nail clippers but she got through a fraction of it. She already knew that the money wouldn’t add up and that if they got audited, the restaurant would be in deep shit.

She had her headphones in and nearly fell off her chair if Carmen didn’t brace her when he came in unannounced. Her heart practically shot out of her ass but she pulled herself together.

“I thought you would have left by now.”

Y/n looked at the time on her laptop and saw that it was 11:30pm, she was a bit impressed with herself. Look at me Carmen, I can also throw myself at my work and I didn’t need people to think I'm God’s gift to man.

“I lost track of time, is the restaurant still open?” Carmen shook his head. Y/n sat up and ushered him to the chair. She didn’t like it when people hovered over her and she wanted Carmen to look up at her for once. She placed her left hand on the back of his chair and her right on the laptop’s trackpad.

“Your payroll needed to be updated, no one does this on paper anymore.” Y/n showed him how to move things around, how to change certain information, etc and she was expecting him to half heartedly listen but was pleasantly surprised when he sat there and listened. He asked meaningful questions which almost made her fall over, he wanted to learn and that was very… admirable. Y/n had to snap herself out of it, of course he was listening, she was brought here to fix and teach, and she wasn’t cheap either.

She then directed him to the organized files and how to maintain file organization in case he was ever audited. He stared with such intensity that she had to turn around and pretend that she was looking for a file. She spent her entire career working in a building where almost no one knew her name, or really looked at her. The chefs were busy with their eye filets and lobster to look at her, management spoke to her through emails but now she was center stage which was making it hard to focus.

She ended her presentation with a short run down of the order that he should pay off certain bills based on priority. She finally looked down at him and was surprised that he was still looking back at her.

“Wow…all that in a day?” Y/n only presented 50% of the work she did today, omitting the illicit money transactions Micheal had orchestrated, and here Carmen was looking at her like she was God’s gift to him.

“It’s going to take a while to decipher this,” holding up the leather book, “but it's not impossible.”

Carmen parted his lips before closing them a few times, “How long can you stay here? Like how many vacation days did you take?”

Y/n debated telling him that she still had a job back home but there really wasn’t any point in lying to make herself look good for Carmen. Y/n was never one to be unnecessarily cruel, just a bit of a nuisance, so she would give him a bit of satisfaction. It was to make up for what she put him through in New York. She pretended to search for something on her laptop while avoiding Carmen’s eyes beneath her.

“I don’t work there anymore.” Carmen’s head shot up and he wondered if he had heard that correctly. He wanted to ask why she left but he knew that would be crossing a line.

“What are your future plans?” Y/n looked up and wondered that as well.

She knew she had to leave French Laundry, she hated the long hours, overbearing bosses, and most of all she hated the people she worked with. There was a team of accountants who worked near her and even though she did the majority of the work she always had to fight to get a seat at the table. She was smart, talented, and competent but she was always officially relegated to payroll even when she was the one who spent weeks organizing binders filled with projection just for some jackass to get the credit. The issue wasn’t just her coworkers but her bosses that assumed that someone else had done the research and let her present, and infuriatingly no one ever corrected management. Add all of that with the loss of what she considered her only acquaintance, she ran as fast as she could.

As for future plans, she had enough money to live a relatively nice life even if she didn’t find work for a year. She hated the French Laundry but she couldn’t sell them short, they paid her very well.

“I don’t know, I will probably have to find a new job.” That piqued Carmen’s interest, he assumed that she had another job lined up because y/n didn’t seem like the type to get up and leave without an exit strategy.

“If you're interested…” Carmen didn’t want to get his hopes up but he knew that he needed her here, this couldn’t work without someone like her. “You can always work here.”

Carmen’s head was swimming, if she said yes that would make his life a million times easier. He might actually be able to sleep a full eight hours.

Y/n didn’t really know how to respond, she didn’t hate the idea. “Am I going to be the only one working finance here?” Carmen’s chest fell, of course this was too much for one person.

“Yeah but if you need more peo-”

“Just me is fine. I don’t like working with other people.” Clear and blunt, y/n didn’t want to waste his time.

“Yeah..” Carmen looked one last look at the computer screen with the filled excel sheets that transformed his brother’s horrible business practices to legible spreadsheets and he knew he definitely needed her.

“What time do you want me to come tomorrow?”

“Whenever is good for you?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “You are paying for my services so act like it.” What she said was rude and slightly uncalled for.

Carmen looked up at her and felt like he was back in New York again, like when he was too scared to talk to her or when he would catch her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Carmen knew she didn’t like him but if he needed her so what could he do, most of his staff already hated him so what was one more.

Y/n sighed, she tried to intimidate him to force him to toughen up but it looks like it just made him clam up. “That was really rude for me to say, but I think you need to hear it.” Y/n had a feeling that he was going to remember this so she thought she started to do damage control.

“All I ever hear about your food is how amazing and jaw dropping and delicious and mind blowing it is. You are very..” Y/n struggled to find a neutral word that would allow her to lift his spirits but not too high, “..competent. Your staff however…”

That got Carmen to pick up his head, “They are goo-”

“And I bet they are good but you can’t do your job and show off their skills and talents if they all walk around you like that. Can I be frank with you?” Carmen slowly nodded his head.

“I don’t see your restaurant lasting very long with the crew you have here.” Carmen knew that but hearing it out loud stung. “You have to make a few changes, either swap out a few annoying chefs or make them change.”

A few hours prior, y/n’s curiosity had gotten the best of her and she looked through Sydney’s resume. It was stacked with good restaurants and she even had a brief stint at catering, y/n didn’t hesitate to admit that Sydney was just as capable as Carmen.

“Get Sydney more involved, she can do much more than what you have her doing now.” Y/n saw Sdyney’s pay which showed that she was getting paid a regular chef salary, she deserved sous-chef. Carmen nodded his head but he was looking away, in his mind he wondered how she could possibly even know that while sitting in his office all day.

“They’re used to doing things a certain way.”

“I'm guessing fear is not your management style.” Y/n pondered how she would fix a situation like this if she was in his shoes. “I would say avoid baptism by fire.”

Y/n continued, “It's going to be a mess but you just need to lead the kitchen like you did in New York for the first few days and then transfer the responsibility to Sydney who will be watching the entire time so she isn’t thrown into a pile of shit on her first day and quit. That way you can continue to do whatever you were doing in New York.”

It had never occurred to Carmen that y/n didn’t know what he did, but then again he barely knew what she did. He would watch her typing away or he would hear fragments of urgent phone calls about audits, and give out checks. But other than that he didn’t know what she did for the rest of her day, so he had to swallow his discontentment with her not noticing him because he was no better than her.

“I think you need to expect more from people, you don’t have to do everything by yourself.” Y/n concluded.

It was quiet barring the sound of the lights buzzing. Just as y/n was about to slip out, Carmen swiftly stood up and walked out the office towards the kitchen and started pulling out bowls.

“I thought you said that this place was closed, what are you making?”

“What do you want to eat?” Carmen wasn’t looking at her as he grabbed a knife and a cutting board.

“Umm…You don’t need-”

“Give me something, y/n”

“It's late, Carmen.”

“You’ve been here all day and you didn’t eat anything…” Y/n gave him a disapproving look.

“Y/n.” He asserted, she couldn’t leave in good faith without eating something.

She didn’t fail to notice that when he lost control back in the office he came rushing out to re-assert his power by forcing her to eat something he was going to make.

“I don’t know…something easy and wont fuck up my stomach.” Y/n conceded.

Carmen smirked, and y/n was able to appreciate his objective handsomeness. After a few minutes of chopping she was presented with a simple salad.

“I tried to replicate the salad dressing from what I smelled from the last time I went to your office.” Y/n was shocked, she didn’t know that he noticed stuff like that, she was also amused that he had a great nose, both functionally and aesthetically.

Y/n was also surprised when Carmen asked her, “Why did you leave?”

“Why did you?” Y/n countered, she knew the answer but she assumed that he wouldn’t tell her. This felt like a decent way to manufacture some space. One step forward for making a meal and 2 steps back for asking probing questions.

“My brother used to own this place…and he died…killed himself.” Carmen was full of surprises today.

Y/n mumbled out, “I hated working there so much I would crawl out of bed hoping that I would fall, crack my head open and never have to step foot in there anymore… I would be gagging a block away from work every single day because I couldn’t stomach another second in my office.”

Y/n assumed that Carmen couldn’t relate, he was a god back in New York.

“I used to throw up every morning.” Y/n put her fork down and looked up at Carmen who continued. “And I would get these heat flashes while I was there even when the kitchen was like negative three-thousand fucking degrees.”

They were never good enough.

It was an embarrassing thing for both of them to admit, they tried to survive in New York and failed because they were weak, but at least they were in good company.

“My boss was a dick. He used to say crazy shit just to get a rise out of me.” Y/n didn’t know that Carmen had a boss, she just assumed that he ran the kitchen.

“Who was your boss?” Y/n went down her rolodex of names before landing on, “That guy with the huge forehead?”

Carmen covered his mouth with his hand but she knew there was a smile underneath. She was able to get a good look at his tattoo, she had only caught glimpses when he would grab an envelope from her or hold the door. At the time she thought it was out of place but seeing the whole picture, Carmen with his wavy hair, gold chain, smirk, and arm littered with tattoos she realized that she was missing out on a lot.

Y/n finished her salad and helped him clean up before they locked up the restaurant and Carmen stuffed her luggage in the trunk.

“You’ve seen our books..”

Y/n gave a small hum.

“So you know that we can’t put you in a hotel for weeks.”

“If I'm not staying at a hotel, where am I going?” Y/n was ready to jump out of the car if he said his house.

“I have a family friend of a friend who is visiting family down in Florida, and she said you can stay there.”

A weight was lifted off of y/n shoulders, y/n was feeling bold, “You’ve ever been to Florida?”

“I went once to check out a few restaurants when I was younger, you?” Y/n hid it well but she was shaking in nerves because it was the first time in years that she was getting some small talk out of him.

“I went to Disney with my family and got a heat stroke. How long is your family friend of a friend staying in Florida?”

“More than 2 months later, she left like a few days ago.” That caused some concern for y/n, she was going to stay in a house that had been abandoned for a few days in a new city, it was like the beginning of a B - rated horror film. The possibility of a serial killer waiting to turn her into a lamp shade was probably close to zero but it still freaked her out. Carmen pulled into the driveway carrying all of her bags leaving her with just her purse.

They approached the front of the house and Carmen opened the door and started placing the suitcases near the entryway, and y/n kept the door open, and Carmen got the hint. She wasn’t going to forge some type of artificial connection by asking him to help her walk through the house for any intruders because that would require her to rely on him.

To y/n, Carmen was unreliable, he could ignore her for years, only to suddenly offer her rides and engage in small talk. What puzzled her even more was his transition from avoiding eye contact to intensely staring her down. Y/n could tell from the sound that leaked from under the office door that he had an underlying temper, a bad one too. She didn’t want to be swept up in his current and be left high and dry. He seemed like he picked up things quickly and left them just as sporadically. While she recognized his passion for food and cooking, ensuring her job stability, Carmen was…unsteady.

Y/n knew people like him, people who hurt those who were close to them when they felt trapped. What feared y/n the most was what would eventually come out of her mouth if they ever got too close and Carmen said something to make her go away. He would say something vile and y/n would probably say that he is nothing, or that he is a failure, or that it should have been him and not his brother.

The thought of saying something so profoundly awful and untrue haunted her, making it impossible for her to bear the weight on her conscience. She had crossed that line before and was acutely aware of her limits. Carmen represented that limit—a boundary she couldn't afford to cross—rendering him off-limits in her life.

Carmen left a quiet goodbye and y/n gave him one back before shutting the door grabbing a knife and going through each of the rooms herself. She didn’t need him or anyone.

Once she went through the house with a fine tooth comb she locked herself in one of the bedrooms, got ready for bed. Her lease in New York expired in a few weeks so she knew she had to fly back to grab her stuff. She couldn’t sleep in this grandma’s house any longer so she grabbed her laptop and started looking for apartments.

Y/n woke up to the sound of her alarm and she felt nauseous before she remembered that she wasn’t crawling back to the French Laundry, she was trying something new. She got ready and spent the whole morning calling realtors and scheduling showings. She took the train to The Beef and when she came in, it looked like they were about to have some type of meeting outfront. Y/n slipped into the office and was momentarily shocked that Carmen was there. She put her bag behind the chair while Carmen was sitting, subtly telling him to fuck off and that this was her desk now. Carmen got up, “What a good boy? So smart”, y/n chuckled in her head.

“What is happening out front? Do I need to sit in?”

“We need to introduce you and we are going to transition to a french brigade, I just spoke to Sydney..”

“How did she take it? You told her you were going to take the lead or did-?”

Carmen was checking his watch obsessively, “She will be fine.” Looks like Carmen was in a hurry and so y/n didn’t even wait for Carmen to open the door before she walked over to the meeting.

She didn’t sit down because there wasn’t a chair for her. She saw the other chefs look at her but no one bothered to ask any questions. Sydney was standing right next to her and y/n saw that she was rehearsing her lines that were written in a small black notebook.

“Don’t mention the role titles, it's just going to scare them off.” Sydney looked up at her. “And keep it short and don’t fumble your words, you’ll sound like a fourth grader.” Sydney opened her mouth but was cut off by Carmen walking out front.

Carmen started explaining about how they were getting new aprons, how he wanted to reorganize the kitchen, and how they needed to be clean. He did not yet explain the elephant in the room to the rest of the chefs; who was y/n and what the hell is she doing here? Carmen was interrupted by a tall man walking in very late.

He took one look at y/n before pointing at her with a coffee cup, “Who are you? Cousin, why are you collecting women?”

“I am y/n, I am the new accountant.” Any form of teasing and snickering died down as a new worry washed over the staff, if Carmen was changing everything he might start changing staff. If y/n could sense it, then so could Carmen and just as she looked up to him for support he quickly excused himself because he had somewhere to be. He just left her to deal with this mess. See? Not stable.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Your not fucking firing anyone.” The tall guy threatened.

“Nobody is getting fired, no one is getting a pay cut and no one is getting replaced. If anything like that happens, that is Carmen’s decision.” Y/n allowed herself to throw Carmen under the bus just once because he left her.

“I’ll just be keeping the books in order.”

“Richie, sit down.” An older woman instructed.

“Carmen said something about a French brigade, it's essentially what you guys are doing just with more defined roles, it's not too different. Sydney will elaborate.” Y/n though she did an acceptable job not throwing Sydney head first like Carmen did and Sydney seemed to be a lot more comfortable then she was a few minutes ago. She didn’t title drop and she didn’t fumble. The crew was obviously annoyed but it was over quickly and Sydeny walked over to y/n.

They walked into the kitchen and Sydeny was feeling overwhelmed because Carmen wasn’t here like he said that he would be.

“Thanks for the pointers”

“No problem. Do you need me to help?” Y/n had seen the inner workings of a kitchen before, granted it had been many years prior and in a different restaurant then the French Laundry but she thought that she would be better support then Carmen, who wasn’t even there.

Y/n spent most of her time calling out orders, tracking what was sent out and doing quality checks, it wasn’t rocket science and she never understood why all those male chefs were screaming all the time, Sydney walked around and did her job as sous-chef. Overall, a very calm transition barring a few hiccups. A few of the chefs tried to steal some onions and y/n had to leave her station and tell them to basically fuck off. Sydney was already tense and doing stupid shit like that would send her over the edge.

The lunch rush was over and y/n was finally reprieved from her duties. She needed some air so she walked outside and into an alley where she saw Carmen.

She was beyond pissed at him, and the sight of him made her boil in rage but she couldn’t leave based on principle.

“How was Sydney?” Carmen asked. Y/n felt like murdering him. She took a few deep breaths before continuing to speak. He wouldn't listen to her if she screamed at him.

“You should have been there.” Y/n said with a bit of an edge.

It was quiet for a long time. Y/n put her head back.

“I went to an Al-Anon meeting, my brother was an addict. It’s his birthday today”

“How often are the meetings? Once a week?” Carmen nodded.

“Did it maybe occur to you to push back the transition one more day so you didn’t leave Sydney alone?” Y/n said calmly and with no malice, she was so exhausted from her lack of sleep, food, and being on her feet all day.

Carmen didn’t say anything, so y/n continued, “You're a steam roller. You don’t listen to other people and you don't think of other people. You left Sydney to drown, that wasn’t great. Not to mention you didn’t even introduce me.”

Carmen's gaze bore into her with undeniable intensity, yet y/n was too upset with him to be swayed by any semblance of attraction.

“I’ll do better. I’ll listen and be there.”

“We’ll see.” Saying you were going to change was different than actually changing.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she graced him with a small smile. "You know, your job isn't that tough," she playfully teased, tilting her head back slightly.

“Really?” Carmen thought she was being serious.

“No kidding, you should hand me your apron and the deed to this restaurant because I just killed it today.” Carmen caught on.

“What did you do today?”

“Called out orders, made sure things were leaving the kitchen, blah blah blah. Honestly, it's kind of fun. It's like those restaurant management phone games, do you ever play those?”

“That would hit a little too close to home.” Y/n snickered.

“My head is spinning and I didnt even start the work I'm supposed to do today.” Y/n sat up with a sigh.

“What do you eat?” Y/n didn’t respond. Carmen got up and came back a few minutes later with a plate of food.

Y/n finished eating before walking inside and finishing up her actual work. The day ended and she was once again the last one left barring Carmen, who offered to drive her back.

As they both sat in the quiet car y/n spoke up, “I have to go back to New York.” Carmen’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“I said I would do better.”

“I'm not leaving permanently, I need to grab my stuff and tell my landlord that I am leaving.”

Carmen’s grip loosened, “You found a place here already?”

“I have a few candidates. I might have to leave in the afternoons for a few weeks to check out some places, I'll be back in an hour or two.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, he dropped her off and y/n crashed into bed.

Y/n had already been working for a few weeks when she came back to a dark restaurant. She walked in and saw Carmen and Fak talking, “ I thought you had a connection.”

“Yeah, I definitely, definitely did not.” Which was followed by more whispering and then a loud, “Fuck” from Carmen.

“What’s happening?” Carmen shot a look at Fak that sent him away and Carmen gave her a quick run down, the power was out and they needed 5,500 dollars to repair.

“There isn’t any money in the budget but maybe if you finance…” Carmen looked around to check if anyone was there before directing her to his office. Y/n turned on her phone flashlight so they could see.

“I’m going to ask you something, and it's completely hypothetical. Like not even a little bit true and you can tell me what the outcome would be.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Suppose we had a way to get the money but it wasn’t completely…legal…hypothetically. I'm not asking anything illegal because this is hypothetical… but what would happen to the books hypothetically?”

“You can talk like a regular fucking person, you know, I'm not going to snitch. Do you need me to fix some books?”

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Carmen started walking towards the door and y/n grabbed his shirt and pushed him towards the chair. He looked up at her and the phone light made her look like a prophecy discovered in a dream, so angel-like. Her words, not so much.

“You brother died so any fuck up that he did will result in us having to pay a fine which is not the end of the world, but if you fuck up… then thats malice and its jail time plus a fine…”

Y/n knew it was harsh so she softened her voice before uttering, “Let me help you, I want to help you.” Carmen was having a hard time focusing, she wanted to help him which means that she cared about him. Maybe her words were like an angel.

“Is it a one time payment or is it…” Camen wasn’t responding, he was just looking up at her. Before she could ask what his problem was, he interrupted.

“I have to ask Richie.” Carmen peeled himself off the chair and opened the door for y/n. They walked to the front where y/n saw Richie and Fak were glaring at each other. Carmen and y/n took a seat.

“What is she doing here?” Richie said while not hiding his disdain for her.

“She has to make this legal.” Carmen explained.

Rcihie signaled for Carmen and Fak to come closer. “WHY DID YOU BRING A FUCKING NARC HERE?” Richie yelled into Carmen’s ears which made him reel back and clutch his ear. Y/n had to look away to hide her laughter.

Carmen rushed to her defense, “She isn’t-”

“I won't. I'm just going to clean it up and we will never have to talk about it again.”

“We can’t trust her, why would you fucking bring her?” He asked Carmen who repeated what she said to him in the office about malice and jail.

“I know you don’t trust me but I need this place running so that everyone here has a job next month. I don’t even need to know how you got it.”

Richie looked like he was thinking, before he threatened, “If you squeal i’m going to put your head on a fucking stick.” He looked like he was apprehensive but realized that this was the only way to protect Carmen so he had to risk trusting her.

Y/n didn’t pay attention to their little squabble afterwards, but then the lights flickered on. They were back in business. Carmen slammed his palms on the counter and exclaimed a relieved, “Fuck” which made y/n short circuit for a second. It was nice to hear him happy for a change.

The rest of the day was spent creating fake receipts and adjusting inventory to account for the new money. It was busy work and after a long time, Carmen came into her office, it was her office for sure, squatters rights.

“Are we good?”

“The IRS will be none the wiser…” Y/n said she wouldn’t ask but the curiosity was killing her.

“How did you guys get the money?”

“I don’t want to put you in deeper shit and this isn’t your scene.” He looked like he regret dragging her into his mess in the first place.

“Did you know when I was younger I used to shoplift.” Carmen looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t need to lie to-.”

“I used to walk into stores and steal, I had the money to buy stuff but sometimes I just felt like taking something…so I did.” She wanted to be on an even playing ground as him so he wouldn’t hesitate to come to her in case something like this happened again. She couldn’t do her job if he hid stuff from her.

“You want to know what the most expensive thing I stole?”

“I still don’t believe you stole anything.” He said with a laugh.

“I stole someone’s wallet. It had $527 dollars and a bunch of credit cards, Ethan Thompson. Slid it right out of his pocket.”

“What did you do with the money?” Carmen asked. Y/n debated lying but she thought honesty was how he would learn to trust her.

“I didn’t spend it, I waited outside till he came out and gave the wallet back. Told him that he dropped it. It was the only thing I ever gave back.” Carmen stared at her with a bewildered expression before laughing into his palm.

“That seems like something you would do.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/n was offended that he was insinuating that she was a loser.

“You are honest to a fault. Brutally honest.”

“It's hard work but I try. Would you have returned it?” Carmen nodded his head.

“Yeah, I bet you would have gone the extra mile and turned it into the police.”

A lull of silence passed and it was clear that Carmen wasn’t going to tell her so she switched topics.

“I don’t want to be mean, but sometimes that's the only way I can get people to listen to me…I’ve been working on it.”

Carmen didn’t want to be a smart-ass and say that he noticed a significant difference from her behavior towards him now compared to New York. She didn’t look like she was disgusted by him anymore. A bit of him wondered if he could change as effortlessly as y/n, she made it look so easy.

“By the way…I'm going to take this office. Like it's mine now.” Carmen wondered if she was joking because she had a smile on her face.

“If you want it, take it. I never want to see another spreadsheet in my life.” If y/n smiled at him like that it would be nearly impossible for him to say no to anything. It was like finally getting her approval after working hard to get it in New York, like when he used to wake up early so he could walk in with her and open the door for her.

There was a lull of and just as Carmen was going to fill it with a probing question y/n beat him to it.

"Was it a murder-for-hire?" Y/n inquired, but Carmen remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Sex work? Tax evasion? Robbery? Drugs?..." y/n continued, listing off possibilities, and in that moment, Carmen's lips tightened imperceptibly. It was a subtle movement, one that might have gone unnoticed by most, but for y/n, it was captivating, drawing her further into his enigmatic presence.

“Drugs.” She said with a slight smile,

“I'm not admitting to anything. Did you find a place you liked?” Carmen wanted to distract her but he also wanted to keep her here longer and he finally had the confidence and momentum to keep her talking.

“I found one, it’s like 20 minutes from here. One-bedroom but it looks much better than my shit box in New York. And they are going to hold it for a while while i get my shit from back home”

“What neighborhood?” Carmen’s heart leaped when she said the same neighborhood that he stayed in, but he controlled himself.

“That new building? I walk past it everyday.” Carmen didn’t offer to carpool because he didn’t want to hear a rejection. That would kill any confidence he might have gained in the last few weeks.

“We're neighbors, that's nice. You have a car, can we carpool?” Carmen wondered if she could read minds.

“I get here early and leave late-”

“I’ll just come and go when you do. I don’t have anything else to do in Chicago anyways…I booked a flight for tomorrow morning to get my stuff.” She moves fast Carmen thought. It was admirable how she knew what she wanted, planned her moves and executed them in record time. He wondered if she ever panicked and fumbled like he did, if she did he never saw it.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven”

“I can drive you.” Y/n wondered if this was too much, she didn’t want to rely on him.

“I’ll take a cab, you have to be here for Sydney.” She didn’t leave Carmen any room to argue.

The next couple of months were much better than Carmen thought was possible. Y/n had engrained herself in their team, and Carmen was able to get his eight hours of sleep every night. They finally had enough money to not feel like the whole restaurant was going to crash and burn.

Sydney had brought up the idea of to-go orders placed through a tablet and after much deliberation and consulting with y/n, he decided to give it ago.

Y/n had stepped out to sign for delivery and was making some pleasant conversation before she heard some commotion from the kitchen. She bid the delivery man a goodbye before walking in to see what the situation was.

Y/n had never seen the kitchen in such chaos since her first day. Carmen's voice reverberated, barking out orders, while Sydney unleashed her own tirade upon Marcus for mishandling the cake cutting. Tension hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere. It was clear to y/n that this wouldn’t end well. Jogging over to Sweeps, who thankfully wasn't completely overwhelmed, she learned that Sydney had messed up the to-go order settings, resulting in a barrage of pre-orders due within a few minutes. Y/n hesitated for a moment, positioning herself in a corner, desperately searching for a way to be of use amidst the chaos. With her limited culinary skills, she felt somewhat helpless, unsure of where she could provide the most assistance.

“Um, I’m doing them in five–” Sydney stuttered.

“No, no, stop. Fire everything right fucking now!”

“Step out.” He was interrupted by Sydney’s excuses.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY EXPO, CHEF, NOW!” That made y/n jump, she heard him yell before but this was a lot worse, the shock made it impossible for her to look anywhere but the back of his head.

Just as things looked like they couldn't get worse she heard a loud crash and saw two cakes on the floor. Y/n rushed over there to de-escalate and practically had to rip Sydney away from Richie.

“I said corner.” Richie said childishly. Y/n was starting to feel like a babysitter. And just as y/n was about to run over to her office to hide, she hears Sydney snap at Tina. Y/n guides Tina away from Sydney.

“Somebody get me a fucking sharpie!” Carmen bellowed and y/n ran to the office and pulled out a few and placed them in front of Carmen then walked back to her little corner. She heard that Richie and Sydney were at it again, sensing that round two was going to be worse she had to go check on that mess. Sydney is harping on and on about how much of a loser Richie and y/n was forced to step in when she hears Sydney talk about Richie’s daughters while waving a knife.

“What the fuck are you guys’ doing? We do not have the time for your asinine bullshit?” Sydney doesn’t even look over and y/n had to tug at Richie to get him to step down, normally y/n would appeal to Sydney’s good graces but she couldn’t go near her when she was waving a knife around.

“Richie, why don’t we take a step back and-” y/n asked.

“WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME!” Y/n turned her head and saw Carmen squishing something Marcus gave him before throwing it on the floor.

“Yo, Cousin, just fuckin chill-” Richie stepped back and even when she saw where the knife was headed she was to slow to do anything. Richie walked into the knife and blood started pouring out.

Y/n felt her breath pick up, her palms started to itch, and she was seeing double. She fought her nerves and led Richie to the front where Ebra would dress his wounds. Y/n didn’t want to look at Richie’s bare ass but she had to make sure it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital trip, it didn’t and y/n saw that as a complete win.

Y/n ran back to the kitchen towards Sydney where she was sitting near the lockers. She was about to leave.

“We need you, you can’t leave. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.” Y/n desperate, she knew the face of someone who had given up and she saw it all over Sydney.

“He is being a little bitch.” Y/n didn’t know how to fix Carmen’s attitude so she did the next best thing, stall.

“Please, give me a day to fix this. I’ll have him come around and apologize, I'll make him regret even getting out of bed. Just please stay till this blows over. We need you. Please.” Y/n was beyond desperate, she couldn't stand doing Carmen’s job of managing his team but she forced herself to pull through. Sydney backed down and went to the sink to wash her knife before going back to prep.

Y/n hears Carmen walk over to Sydney and ask, “We good, chef?”, who wasn’t responding. This bastard was so incredibly dense y/n almost wanted Sydney to blow up in his stupid face and maybe stab him in the ass too but she denied herself that pleasure and quickly diverted Carmen over to the expo.

“Now is not the time. Do this later… Please.” Y/n was grasping at straws here and she wasn’t even given the satisfaction of being able to yell at someone. Carmen went back to his expo but not before bending down and eating something off the floor. He has definitely lost it, y/n muttered.

She went to find Marcus who was just about to leave. She thanked him for today and apologized on Carmen’s behalf. Y/n didn’t want to be a bitch but Marcus was not high on her priority list right now, him leaving would let her deal with less people and make her job easier.

She ran out front to check up on Richie again. “Please tell me you're okay.” He gave a small laugh and then a grunt. She saw that he was grasping an empty carton of cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t know how, but the storm passed and the doors opened for customers. Y/n slipped out and bought a carton of cigarettes and some painkillers from a nearby gas station and handed them over to Richie.

“I know this isn’t even a good enough apology but I’m really sorry about today.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“You're not going to get an apology from Sydney for a while so let my apology be a placeholder.” Y/n rounded her eyes and tried to see if there was any residual tension from this morning and to her relief Richie was fine.

“Tell me if you need something.” She then went back to the kitchen and Sydney was still cutting stuff and Carmen was yelling out orders with less fury. Y/n wasn’t going to have anything positive to say to either of them so she would wait till after the lunch rush. She slipped back to the front and sat on a bar stool with her laptop. She couldn’t face either of the chefs right now.

Looking at Sydney was difficult, and the longer that y/n waited out front with Richie to make sure he didn’t die of blood loss while manning the front, the more pissed she got at Sydney for not having the decency to come out to check up on Richie or even apologize.

Looking at Carmen was even more difficult, a part of y/n wanted to be proven wrong about her previous notions about pretentious chefs. But both Sydney and Carmen were the only one’s screaming and that because they felt like they were entitled to it, that they were the only ones who were allowed to be stressed and upset. They were selfish and that was a painful thing for y/n to admit about Carmen because that meant that his promise to change when she first came here was a lie. He couldn’t handle any type of stress without flipping out and she wondered if this was even the right profession for him.

The lunch crowd died down and she directed Sydney towards her office and shut the door, “You want to tell me what happened today?” Y/n faked the sincerity, Sydney wouldn’t talk if y/n was hostile.

“Carmen was being a dick. Everyone else is dealing with the same shit but now…” Y/n didn’t want to hear anything else for her.

“How is Richie?” Y/n asked with a bit of an edge.

“He walked into my kni-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t know, okay? But it was his fault,” Y/n had to remind herself to take a few deep breaths, she wouldn’t let her anger get the best of her and she would refrain from yelling.

“When you finish with your shift, can you please talk to Richie, at least pretend like you care that you stabbed someone.”

“He called me a bitch and was all over my station, he deserved it, ”

“You deserved to be called more than a bitch.” Y/n regretted the words as soon as they came out but she wasn’t going to lose face. Sydney looked shocked but y/n kept her face stoic.

“Talk to him.”

Sydney didn’t respond but y/n knew she wouldn’t talk to Richie.

Y/n felt her blood bubbling, “You could move to fucking Timbuktu and be a chef there and you still wouldn’t rise above average, do you know why?” Y/n didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“It's because you are the problem, you are selfish and you don’t think. You can quit here and never look back and you know what is going to happen next? You're going to find another job and then leave that job and then find another job and leave that one too and keep doing that till you die.” It was getting harder for y/n to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in.

“I have been gracious enough to give you the space to grow, I told Carmen to make you sous but every second that I take my eyes off either of you, it's like shit hits the fan. Are neither of you capable of doing your jobs?” Y/n was ranting.

“If today was so bad that you have to make someone else's life miserable and then whine about yourself, you shouldn’t even be allowed to work in soup kitchens.” Y/n took a painful deep breath, her head was spinning and she was suppressing the urge to start dry-heaving.

“You will forever be nothing unless you change, you are impatient, selfish, whiny, annoying, vindictive, and…and..” Y/n had to end on a good note or else Sydney might actually quit.

“..capable of doing better. I have seen the way you cook and manage a kitchen when it's not a shit storm. I bet in a few years you're going to make Carmen’s food taste like MREs. You are destined for good things but that will only happen when you grow up.”

Sydney was quiet before she stomped out of y/n’s office and slammed the door shut.

Y/n sank down onto the floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was as if she had been transported back to New York, constantly juggling her and her co-worker’s workload and assuming the role of the villain. She desperately sought control, but the grip of the panic attack tightened its hold, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she fought to regain control over her racing thoughts. It was an exhausting battle, one that felt all too familiar. She grasped at the chair trying to stay up right but after a few moments of dizziness, she slipped to the ground.

She was keenly aware that she couldn't single-handedly orchestrate transformative change in just a few short months but she thought that Carmen would at least learn to step up. She longed for a sense of calm and it burned to know that Carmen was incapable of being that for her now. The knowledge weighed heavily on y/n's heart. The realization that Carmen, the one person she had hoped could offer her some semblance of stability and support because he said he would, was not yet equipped to be that pillar for her. It was a painful acknowledgement, one that underscored the inherent instability that defined their dynamic. Carmen was not stable.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, wiped her tears, and stood up after pushing her sadness and disappointment with Sydney and, more importantly, Carmen in a deep crevice in her mind.

The kitchen had lost two chefs but it was still running smoothly because it was a slow day. Y/n discreetly circled the kitchen, she made a conscious effort to conceal the fact that her blood was boiling, striving to maintain composure amidst the chaos.

And just as she was about to retreat to her office, the man of the fucking hour decided to show up.

“Bad news guys, we have to close for dinner today because we are having a bachelor party in the front.” Y/n looked at a few sips of water, she needed to ground herself and resist throwing the cup of ice water in his face. Carmen glanced up at her and was met with the same eyes from New York, the ones which were glaring at him, disgusted with him, hated him. Y/n walked over to the alley and Carmen followed her even when she didn’t ask.

Y/n indicated that he sat down with a pointed look with her eyes, y/n stayed standing.

“I was hired to be your accountant, but today I was playing babysitter for a bunch of grown fucking adults. Why am I walking around your kitchen and apologising to your fucking staff while you do absolutely nothing.” She took a staggered breath.

"They were goddamn pre-orders, for crying out loud! If they were a little late, it's not like a customer would barge into the fucking kitchen to hang you. You guys have already had a C health rating and got into a fight with some customers a while back, so clearly customer satisfaction isn’t the issue.” The corners of her eyes were turning hazy.

“Why the hell do other people have to clean up your damn mess? How hard would it have been for you to tell Richie to inform the customers that the orders were going to be a bit late?” Carmen didn’t look up, keeping his focus on y/n’s shoes.

“Not fucking difficult at all, its like…like you wanted an excuse to be a prick.”

“Its your fucking entitlement, you are just like Sydney. You are selfish and you will never amount to anything unless you learn to deal with your problems. I mean this in the most blunt and sincere way possible: go to fucking therapy. If money's a problem, I'll foot the bill. I want you to go there and let them throw every damn thing they have at you, from drawing pictures to giving you a fucking lobotomy." Y/n’s face was getting hot and she could feel her forehead burn up.

“You are running a kitchen in a shitty neighborhood with people who would be happy if you served them insulation in between two pieces of drywall, it has never and will never be that serious.” Y/n gave herself some time to breathe before giving him a little bit more.

“You’re the head of the kitchen, you're supposed to be everyone’s support. You have to be…s-stable.” It was difficult for y/n to choke out that word, it hurt too much. “Your team shouldn’t have to walk on fucking eggshells when things get tough.”

“You promised me that you would do better, that is the whole reason I chose to stay. Did you know that I was going to tell you that I changed my mind after I accepted your job offer? I didn’t because you promised you would be better…do better.” Y/n knew there was some stuff she missed but she was exhausted and wanted to go back. She uncrossed her arms and knew that it was time to do some damage control again.

They stayed in silence for a long time before y/n let out a deep sigh, “I'm sorry, it's just… today was a lot when it really didn’t need to be.” Y/n sat down right next to Carmen, she gave him a few inches of space, he still wasn’t looking at her.

Carmen did well with praise y/n recalled, “You are a very talented chef and you are great at organizing a kitchen but that's very different from managing a kitchen with people in it.” A silence passed through them and y/n gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Marcus was completely wrong and I don’t fault you for that. I know I would have done the same thing. What kind of idiot worries about donuts when everyone is asking you about cakes?”

“They were good.” Y/n almost missed it but she was glad she didn’t. That meant that she hadn’t completely broken him.

“I bet they taste even better off the floor.” Y/n chuckled and even if Carmen doesn’t join her, he does pick his head up and look at her. The fact that she was still able to smile after ripping him to shreds was very reminiscent of many people in his life. He knew that she was probably right but he also knew that aspects of her criticism would keep him up at night for years to come

“Was I too much? ” Y/n asked.

“I needed to hear it…” Y/n let them stew in silence.

“You need to find the root of your issues and fix them.” Y/n offered.

“Are we good?” Carmen asked. Y/n was tempted to say yes so that they could move on but she had a feeling that was too easy for him. She worked hard today to be a force of stability and support for everyone and saying yes to Carmen’s question only comforted him. Y/n wanted to be comforted for once.

“No.” Carmen’s face betrayed his shock.

“What can I do to fix it?” Carmen was desperate.

Y/n sighed before closing her eyes. Y/n didn’t respond because she didn’t know how either.

Carmen felt a heat crawling up his chest, a sense of being trapped. He knew he could go back to Sydney, apologize, and promise to change, and they would be good. He knew that if he checked up on Richie, they would be good. He knew that if he swallowed his pride and prepared family dinner today, he would be in good standing with the rest of his team.

But Carmen was starting to realize that he didn’t really know enough about y/n to make this good. Carmen spent a lot of his time overthinking every minute detail of his life but no matter how hard he tried to come up with something to fix this, nothing seemed right. He couldn’t leave because he knew if he did that would be admitting defeat and that would ruin any friendship he earned with y/n but he couldn’t find the right words.

She couldn’t leave Carmen without it killing him. Her words echoed in his head and he tried to find a clue, something that would give him an opening to learn more about her so she wouldn’t leave the restaurant, leave him.

“Why did you hate me? Back in New York.” It was a risk but it felt like his only option. Y/n parted her lips a few times, it was like she was formulating a response that wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need her to comfort him, he needed to comfort her.

“Don’t lie, y/n.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Y/n conceded.

“Don’t bullshit me. The way you looked at me-”. Y/n didn’t know that she was being that obvious.

“You were…I don’t…” Y/n realized she had placed Carmen in an impossible situation by asking him to fix something without providing guidance, as she herself didn't know how to rectify her past mistakes without any guidance.

“I was really unhappy with my job and I thought that if I had someone, if I had you, we could stick together. We used to come and leave work at the same time, we were polite, you seemed like a nice guy. We could have helped each other out, I wanted so badly to have someone to rely on. It was selfish of me to put that pressure on you, I shouldn’t have done that…” That was the diluted version of the story, y/n was willing to take the blame for everything in New York but Carmen didn’t look satisfied, so she continued.

“I used to hand you your paycheck and you never made eye contact. I didn’t even know your eyes were blue until I had been working there for two months.” Carmen locked his eyes on y/n’s.

“I would try to talk to you and you never responded, I didn’t even know what you sounded like. You called me a few months ago and I didn’t even know it was you because you never said a word to me. I used to think that you thought you were too good to talk to me.” Carmen fiddles with his finders and y/n had to tear her eyes away from his hand so she could focus.

“I worked hard for a while to get close to you but you clearly weren’t interested. I took the hint and backed off. The looks were…immature and stupid but I couldn’t help it…I hated my job and you were an easy target. It's easy to hate something you know nothing about.”

“Do you hate me now?” Carmen whispered.

“Not anymore.” Y/n responded softly.

Carmen's shoulders visibly relaxed as he heard Y/n's response. Relief washed over him, mingled with a renewed sense of hope.

Carmen replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted you to hate me. I just...you would look at me like that and it was one more reason that convinced me that I wasn’t fucking good enough for that job.”

Y/n had the daunting realization that she was one of the reasons why he left the French Laundry, why he left her. She felt extra guilt for yelling at Carmen for fucking up and being selfish when she did the same thing without knowing it. She blinked back some tears, she needed to hear this, even if it hurt.

“I'm sorry, I was completely-.”

“I used to be scared of you.” Carmen interrupted. Y/n sat up and raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asked in pure bewilderment.

“It felt like you were leagues ahead of me…it's like comparing an ant to…umm…” Carmen was struggling to spit something out, “divinity.” That made y/n widen her eyes and lean forward.

"I never saw you as beneath me, y/n. You were always on a higher plane, like we lived in different fucking planets." Carmen's voice held a touch of reverence, acknowledging the perceived disparity in their positions.

“You were always so…perfect. I never saw you struggle. Even now, you pick things up fast, people like you, you are great at whatever you do, you never get mad for no reason.”

“People don’t like me and I did get mad for no reason, I just yelled at Sydney before I got to you.”

“We deserved it.”

"It wasn't my place. It's your kitchen, and I shouldn't have gotten involved." Carmen felt sick. She was distancing herself from the kitchen and from him. She was trying to run away and he couldn't let that happen.

“I wouldn’t have anything left if you left.”

“You would have been fine, you would have Sydney.”

“But you…you…belong here. I can’t do this without you.” Carmen felt like she was slipping from his fingers and he was trying to grasp on to any part of her that he could convince to stay.

“Give me a reason to stay, Carmen.” Y/n's whispered with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. She wasn't sure what words were left to be spoken, but she knew she had to say his name. Y/n wanted his name to swirl around her tongue, and imprint the feeling of his name leaving her lips.

Y/n shifted her gaze, positioning herself to face him directly, and her eyes couldn't help but gravitate towards his slightly parted lips. It was clear that he had something to say, and she leaned in, eager to catch every word. In response, Carmen shortened the distance, drawn by the intimate proximity. It felt as if he was about to share a secret with her, a whisper that only they would hear.

With their faces mere inches apart, Carmen's right hand softly landed on the seat beside Y/n's thigh, subtly adjusting their positioning to align their faces. Y/n’s right hand began to rise, caressing his face tenderly. Y/n locked in with his cerulean eyes wondering if she was the only one feeling this. She tested the waters by running her thumb across his lips. They were a bit chapped from biting them all morning.

Feeling the touch of Y/n's thumb on his lips, Carmen's breath caught in his throat. It was a gentle caress that sent shivers down his spine.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Y/n mumbled as she leaned in closer.

Without breaking eye contact, Carmen reached up, gently cupping Y/n's face with his hand, his touch conveying tenderness and longing.

WIth a hoarse whisper, Carmen pleaded, “Kiss me, y/n.”

Y/n closed the gap and it was a collision of pent-up passion and aching yearning. Y/n's fingers tangled in Carmen's hair, pulling him even closer. Carmen’s thumb stroked y/n’s jaw and he couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. Their bodies pressed together, feeling the heat and intensity of their shared desire. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sensation of each other. Every touch, every gentle nip of their lips, fueled the hunger that had been building between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words.

Carmen didn’t want to pull away because he wasn’t sure if he would ever get another kiss, he wanted this one to last. He didn’t want to regret 20 years in the future not kissing for a few moments longer.

Y/n, breathless and in need of a moment to regain composure, pulled away from the kiss. Soft gasps escaped her lips as she tried to steady her racing heart. Carmen, caught in a blissful daze, found himself unable to flutter his eyes open. Carmen remained in a suspended state, savoring the lingering sensation of y/n's touch.

Carmen’s phone buzzed and that wasn’t enough to ground him. He felt like he was floating. If he didn’t move and really focused, he could convince himself that he was still kissing y/n.

He felt y/n’s hand slid up his apron and trail up his leg. Carmen's breath hitched, his senses heightened, as anticipation swirled in the air. He sat still, nervous to do something like this in public but if y/n wanted him to do something he would do it in a heartbeat. He trusted y/n completely, willing to follow her lead without hesitation.

Finally, Y/n's hand reached its destination, and Carmen's pulse quickened. Y/n pulled something out—his phone.

Confusion flickered across his features as he watched Y/n's playful expression. Y/n was teasing him, realizing the momentary tension she had caused. Carmen's anxiety gave way to relief, his lips curving into a smile of his own. He completely forgot about the buzzing so she answered the phone for him and brought it closer to his ear. He took the phone from her hands ensuring that their fingers grazed. It was a small, subtle gesture, yet it held the power to ignite sparks of electricity that danced along his skin.

“Yo, cousin. Where the fuck are you?”

“Why?” Carmen wanted to stay with her for longer but Richie, being a gigantic cockblock, was ruining that for him.

“You're out past your curfew. Why do you think?” Richie remarked sarcastically. “You still have a job, you can't just sit around in an alley like some kind of fucking sewer rat.”

“Richie, I swear to fucking good if the kitchen is fine and you dragged me back there for no reason, im gonna stab your other ass cheek.” Carmen waited till Richie started to talk back before hanging up on him, he was being petty. Carmen saw that y/n tucked her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping.

Carmen sat wordlessly, not wanting to leave just yet. Y/n stood up and Carmen followed her. As they stood face to face, Y/n's hands instinctively brushed his hair back into place, fixing any stray strands. With gentle precision, she smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt sleeves and straightened his apron.

Y/n's finger traced lightly across his lips a few times, and a mischievous smirk fell on her lips. "Your lips are going to be a problem," she teased, a twinkle of amusement in their eyes. Carmen's mind momentarily scattered, unable to fully focus.

"Y/n?" Carmen's voice wavered slightly, his thoughts still clouded by desire.

Y/n, sensing his internal struggle, mustered a playful yet firm resolve. "Go back to the restaurant, I’m still mad at you." she gently nudged him toward the alley exit with an addictive smirk.

Carmen blinked, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of longing.

"But when-" Y/n interrupted, her voice filled with anticipation.

"I'll see you in just a few minutes."

As he busied himself with checking on Richie and apologizing to Sydney, Carmen didn’t miss how y/n slipped inside and walked into the office.

Carmen was still pissed at Richie, who was counting the money in the drawer as they were about to close early to do family dinner.

“Why even bother calling if the place is empty, you dick?” Carmen said in a huff.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you sucking face with your new girlfriend.” Carmen’s jaw went slack.

“Carmy, you're so handsome.” Richie said in a hushed girly tone, mocking y/n’s voice.

“How-” Carmen started.

“You left and y/n left and you both came back within 5 fucking minutes of each other.” Carmen parted his lips trying to form a response.

“You should learn to hide this stuff better. Your lack of girlfriends is catching up to you.”

End Notes:

This is purely experimental so I will most likely not write stuff like this in the future, but if people like it, who knows?

We can delude ourselves into thinking that Carmen would be boyfriend material, but he most definitely isn't. I wanted to write something with an unreliable y/n who complains that Carmen has all these anger issues, is domineering, doesn't listen to people, is controlling, is selfish, is extremely unstable, etc. However, she is exactly the same; she just doesn't realize it.

At the end of the day, Carmen meshes well with people who are similar to him, which is why he is close with Sydney and sometimes Richie (their shared love of Michael and The Beef). I wanted to write something where he pursues someone who has similar flaws as him. I guess it's up to you guys to figure out if it's the start of personal growth on both ends or if it's a doomed romance.

Part 2

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exhaslo · 10 months

Note

hey in the mean time I wanted to request something sweet but spicy 😋, so what about (collage?)

Bully!miguel ? X a nobody!fem reader (like someone that the popular kids doesn’t even know about or care into that much offend 😔 and is often bullied by different people and get in the middle of the fight, well tried not to and only get push,nudge, or whatever) and Miguel who is a bullied nerd and saw her one day that catch his eyes it was reader who’s was running into her next period.

Smut pls and fluff PLS 😭🙏 (love any ending 🫶😼) HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY! bye eshalo (I think I spelled it wrong 😔 I’m sorry)

Okay, I think I got a unique idea for this. Gonna spice it up a bit if that's okay~ ;)

Summary: The biggest bully in school had got his eye on the 'ghost' of the college.

Warning: Minors DNI, bullying, smut, fingering, oral (f-receiving)

-----------

There was a popular rumor throughout the college of a ghost that wandered the halls. At first, many people did not believe it since the rumor had only begun a year ago; but, as the weeks passed more and more people saw the ghost. It became a game after two months. Whoever can catch the ghost will win a prize.

It was all fun and games until you found out that you were the ghost. The tears that streamed down your face that night were heavy. You knew that you avoided people and didn't like to get involved, but to be called a ghost. This was worse than the bullying you had throughout middle school and high school.

It only got worse from there. You were afraid to do anything. Every time you stepped out of your private dorm, people could claim they saw the ghost and tried to catch you. You nearly weep every time you even tried to go study. It was all a joke to everyone.

"I hate this," You cried softly as you sat in the staircase of your dorm building.

"Hate what?"

"Being called the ghost." You whimpered. It took you a moment before gasping, "W-Who's there?"

You rubbed your eyes as Miguel walked up the stairs. Your eyes widen in shock. The college's biggest bully stood right below you. His tall and overwhelming features standing out. He gave you a cold stare as he observed you from head to toe.

"You're a pretty cute ghost,"

Miguel smirked as he watched you flinch. Truth be told, Miguel knew exactly who you were. He had his eyes on you since you started this college. Miguel had bullied a lot of people, but watching you get bullied erked him. He wanted to be the shoulder for you to cry on, but how could he approach you? He already had a bad reputation.

"Y-You're-"

"Miguel O'Hara, pleasure to meet you."

Within an instant, Miguel hovered before you. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. You withdrew your hand, walking backwards towards the wall. Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you tried to come up with words. He was too close.

"So the ghost can be touched," Miguel said with a smug grin. You bit your lower lip,

"I-I'm not a ghost!"

"I know you're not," Miguel had your back pressed against the wall, "I've had my eye on you for a while now. I want to get to know you. Will you let me do that?"

You gulped as you looked up into his eyes. The biggest threat in this campus wanted to get close to you? As scared as you were, you couldn't help but agree. This was going to be your way of having protection. Besides, Miguel was good looking. Perhaps with him around, you wouldn't be called a ghost anymore.

--------

It had only been a month since Miguel became your personal bodyguard as you called it. He stuck by your side like glue, keeping you company and helping you avoid those pranksters. You loved having Miguel by yourself. He made you laugh and helped you come out of your shell. Not to mention he was hot. You had dreamed about him far too many times to count, but it wasn't like you were going to make a move anytime soon.

Miguel on the other hand was holding back so much. He wanted to press you against a wall and ravish you with kisses. He wanted to mark you as his. To make you scream his name. Miguel was ready to go all primal on you. Every time he hung out with you, he had to take care of his erection afterwards. You were just so quiet, so shy. He loved hearing your voice.

Today was going to be like any other day. Miguel had already taken care of some annoying pests and was ready to destress with you. He made his way over to your dorm, imagining the smile on your face. Right as he walked up the stairs, he heard sobbing. Those sobs belonged to you!

"(Y/N)! What's wrong?" Miguel asked.

You whimpered, rubbing your eyes as Miguel stood before you. You could see the anger on his face as he slowly approached you, taking the net off your head. He bend down and stroked your cheek before taking off some of the rope that got tangled around your arms and legs.

"I-I just...I just went to check on my mail..." You cried softly. Miguel shushed you, helping you up, "T-They just laughed."

"C'mon, let's go into your room."

Miguel took your key and opened your door. He let you in first before following and shutting the door behind. With a quick lock, he approached you once more and wiped your tears away.

"Don't cry, (Y/n)."

"But Miguel, they still think I'm a ghost." You whimpered. Miguel let out a soft sigh as he leaned forward, kissing you,

"Can I do that to a ghost?"

"N-No?"

"What about this?"

Miguel's hand stroked down your sides as he kept kissing you. You're sad whimpers turned into pleasure ones as Miguel cheered you up. His soft touch was not what you were expecting. It sent shivers up your spine. His tongue licked your lips, demanding entrance. You obeyed, allowing him to bully you for once.

Miguel liked how easily you gave in. His gaze met with yours as he slid your shorts down. His bulge making contact with your panties, grinding against you softly. He didn't want to take things too far, but who knows what will happen. Miguel watched you gasp, holding onto his arms as he moved his hips against yours.

"Can a ghost feel this?" Miguel groaned lowly, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit.

"N-No~"

"Good. I'm going to treat you right, (Y/N). I'll show those guys that they messed with the wrong person. You're my girl."

"H-Hah~ Miguel~"

You whimpered a moan as you moved your hips against his hand. Your back arched against the bed as his fingers started to pump inside your tight gummy walls. His fingers alone were stretching you out. It made your vision blur slightly as you became overwhelmed with pleasure. Each pump and curl of his fingers made the knot in your stomach tighten.

Miguel licked his lips as he took your panties off, throwing them across your room. He watched as your juices spilled over his hand once he made you cum. Your face was red with embarrassment. It was cute. Miguel took his fingers out, giving them a lick,

"Ghosts can't be this cute or red in the face," He teased.

"M-Miguel." You stuttered, trying to hide your face.

Miguel only responded with a hum as he spread your legs. You tried to protest, but gasped loudly as he flicked his tongue against your clit. You arched your back, moaning his name as Miguel held you in place. His tongue swirling around your folds, giving each part of you a taste. No ghost could taste this sweet. No ghost could moan this deliciously.

"M-Mig!"

Your cries were music to his ears. Miguel was going to make this school regret bullying you. You were his. Miguel lapped up your juices as you cam against his tongue. Your throbbing pussy was just asking to be filled, but that had to wait. Miguel had already pushed you to your limit for today.

"Rest up, (Y/n). I promise I'll make you feel even better next time, but I have to teach someone a lesson," Miguel hummed as he licked his lips. You were a panting mess against your bed,

"B-But-"

"I won't let anyone bully you again. You're my girl. Now stay here until I get back. I'm going to finish this later."

You just nodded and blushed madly as you saw his tight erection against his pants. Covering your face, you watched as Miguel left your room with his head held high. You whimpered quietly, still flustered from the orgasm he gave you,

"I'm your ghost~"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked the twist I did with your prompt!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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cottonlemonade · 27 days

Text

Beach Day

word count: 591 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hirugami x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive

warnings: mdni, spoilers

request: medium blue lemonade with frozen berries for Hirugami || fluffy-spicy Beach Day with boyfriend Hirugami

As much as he despised when his sister’s boyfriend became all mushy around his girlfriend, Sachiro quickly understood the sentiment when he met you. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no depths he wouldn’t stoop to, if it meant you’d give him a smile.

The sun was scorching hot but the well loved, slightly off-center parasol he buried deep in the sand kept you in the shade. In the glistening water kids played in the shallows under the watchful eyes of their parents and surfers tried their best to catch the next wave. Sandcastles were being build, seashells collected and beach hats chased, carried away by a cheerful breeze.

“I’m so glad we’re a couple.”, he said, stretching happily on the large blanket.

“Yeah? Why is that?”, you grinned and over the rim of your sunglasses gave him a questioning look.

“Because I don’t have to feel like a creep for staring at you in that bikini.”

“Is it not too revealing?”

“On the contrary.” He leaned closer to you, setting a little kiss on the shell of your ear before saying, “If it were up to me it could be even smaller.”

You blushed and wrapped the sheer beach kimono closer to your body. He pouted and sneakily brushed back the fabric to reveal your pudgy tummy and temptingly plush thigh.

“You know, now that I think about it… it does reveal quite a lot…”, he said slowly.

You raised a brow, quite familiar with this certain tone.

“I wouldn’t want you to burn. Let me reapply some lotion, princess.”

With pursed lips you made it a point to remove the kimono slowly, sliding it off your shoulder with a little extra sass, earning you a low whistle, which sent you both into a little laughing fit.

You lay on your stomach, crossing your legs and waited with your head resting on folded arms.

“Now this is just rudely in the way.”, Sachiro noted and pulled at the string on your back.

Worried you’d be exposed if you squirmed, you stayed put and opted for a playfully shocked, “Hey!”

“Just making sure, I’m not getting anything on your new piece, babe.” With that excused he climbed on top of you, his knees on either side of waist and leaned down to set a kiss on your shoulder.

He sighed contently as he rubbed a bit of lotion onto his palms, “I love summer.” His large hands began massaging your back, having you close your eyes in bliss.

“By the way, my brother asked if he can join us for dinner next week with his wife. Is that okay with you?”, he wondered as he worked.

“Oh yeah, of course! We haven’t seen them in ages. Is his leg doing better?”

You sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed the sides of your breasts as if on accident.

“Yeah, he’ll be able to play the next match no problem. He just wants to be cautious that’s why he sat the last one out. Although I do have to say that the Adlers have been doing well without him, too. And I fully intend to tell him that when we see him.” You could hear his mischievous smirk.

He all but grabbed your perfectly soft hips under the guise of applying more lotion, squeezing and… pressing himself further against you. You had been in this exact position last night in the hotel and nothing good could come of it in public.

“What is it, baby? You got so quiet.”, he teased.

art: @_Hemoon on Twitter

a/n: he is just so… thank you @ranscutedoll for the request, I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟

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enchantedflameandflower · 19 days

Text

Billy Butcher fic! 18+ only for sex, mild spanking, smut, piv, Butcher’s fingers and a bit of soft dom for fun (also some h/c)

“His gaze always seemed to linger when she wore it and it didn’t seem he was able to resist the way it fell off her shoulder and clung to her body in her sleep.

"Ya know this one's my favorite..." he murmured low against the shell of her ear plucking at the material.

"Mmmm..." she hummed in reply, her eyes still closed. "You want to borrow it?"

Billy made a noise then brushed his mouth over the shell of her ear again, tugging her hips closer. "I wannna do unspeakable, dirty things to ya while it's rucked up over your tits, tanglin’ your arms together while ya gasp my name."”

karl urban masterlist

taglist: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality @nosebeers @vavafaure1994 @weallhaveadestiny @str8-jack-it

~*~*~ more under the cut!~*~*~

direct link to part 1

Part 38 (you don’t need to read previous parts to enjoy this!)

Addison did not see Butcher for days after the incident at Vought tower. He barely answered his phone and when he did it was only to talk for a second and beg off, then maybe text her later. Maybe. Thanks to M.M., she knew where Billy was, but he never actually said it.

Nearly five days later, M.M. called her to let her know they were releasing Billy from the hospital. She was almost shocked he didn’t leave on his own AMA, but that must mean it was just as bad as she imagined. Or maybe worse.

She didn’t hesitate to call Billy’s phone and she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he answered.

“‘Lo, sunshine.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly but it was perfect to her.

“Can you come over?” she asked without preamble. She wouldn’t force him to tell her where he was or talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. But she wanted to catch him before he left and ended up somewhere else, unwilling to move again.

He was silent for a very long moment. “Aye,” he finally answered. “I’ll be there in a bit.” He paused. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay. Just want to see you.”

“Alright then. Soon, yeah?”

The exhaustion in his voice broke her down for a second but she pulled herself back together.

“Yeah.” ~*~*~

The first two nights at her place he didn’t come to bed at all. His bruises had started to fade, his cuts were healing, but she could still see them, and she could still see the devastation in his expression.

He had told her what happened at Vought but she knew there was something more. Something he wasn’t telling her. Something awful. He was different now, she could see it in his eyes.

The third night she finally got him to come back to bed with her and he didn’t have any nightmares but she didn’t think he ever slept at all. The next night they started once more, in excess, worse than ever. But he wouldn’t talk about it. Not yet, he mumbled.

Addison didn’t know what else to do but wrap her arms around him, so she did and he fell against her chest. In the next moment, she felt his body shaking and she realized he was crying, silently, his tears seeping into her shirt as he seemed to completely break down.

She tightened her hold without saying a word and she felt the tears start stinging in her own eyes. She wouldn’t let go, no matter what. After that he finally fell into a deep sleep and stayed that way for hours. She wondered if it was the first time he had truly slept in weeks. The next day he was miles better, and even more so the following day, but he still wouldn’t tell her what the weight was he was carrying so heavily. Addison didn’t push, instead just spending the time peacefully together. ~*~*~

A few days later, as the morning light was only just barely starting to filter in around the edges of the curtains, Addison woke so, so slowly to the soft feeling of Billy’s strong fingers. They drifted idly up and down her side over the material of her little nightgown as she burrowed her face against his chest. His hand slipped up to just under the curve of her breast, then slowly back down over her hip and behind to her bottom. Then he repeated the entire path again.

On the third run, she couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer and she made a soft little noise in the back of her throat, pressing just a little closer to him, nuzzling against his chest. He seemed to have forgotten about his nightmares, at least for now and she felt a swell of utter joy that she could maybe give him a second of peace. She didn’t want to bring it up by asking how he was, so she just enjoyed the moment, humming softly. Maybe he needed this.

Billy took a contented breath and pressed on her lower back, pulling her against him before returning to his gentle strokes over the satiny material. She knew that he in fact knew this nightgown was not silk; it was old and she’d had it forever. His gaze always seemed to linger when she wore it and it didn’t seem he was able to resist the way it fell off her shoulder and clung to her body in her sleep.

“Ya know this one’s my favorite…” he murmured low against the shell of her ear plucking at the material.

“Mmmm…” she hummed in reply, her eyes still closed. “You want to borrow it?”

Billy made a noise then brushed his mouth over the shell of her ear again, tugging her hips closer. “I wanna do unspeakable, dirty things to ya while it’s rucked up over your tits, tanglin’ your arms together while ya gasp my name.”

Addison grinned, finally opening her eyes to look up from his chest and meet his own, so dark she could barely see the hazel. “Well that sounds like a good time,” she whispered in a breathy voice.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he grinned at her consent then leaned down to capture her mouth. Though his words were rough, he kept his motions slow and sultry, meant to seduce, stroking his tongue over hers and rubbing her body with deliberate, soft strokes of his palm.

As he disoriented her with the kiss, his big hand slid down over her ass, kneading and pressing her against his quickly swelling length. Addison purred her pleasure and he pulled back from the kiss to let her breathe.

“Do ya think your arse’ll get bigger?” he asked, squeezing again.

Addison laughed softly. “I think all your favorite parts of me will get bigger.”

“Mmmmmm,” he rumbled happily, dipping his head to bite along the curve of her neck. “Can’t wait…” He lifted one hand to cup her breast over her the material, kneading there before retreating again to make good on his promise. His hand slipped under her nightgown where it was resting on her thigh and he caught the hem with his wrist as he pushed it up her body. He helped her maneuver as he did, making sure it was all the way over her breasts then he turned her over, nestling up behind her.

Addison arched her back, pressing her bare bottom against his cock and pushing her breasts out as his big hand slid up to cup them again. He tugged at her nipple until she whimpered then slowly slid his hand down her stomach until he could nestle his fingers against her clit.

She felt his hot breath on the sensitive spot just below her ear as the tips of his fingers slid through her wetness then circled her clit slowly. He only stayed there for a moment though and shifted his fingers down to slide inside of her, teasing.

“Billy…” she moaned his name, his strong fingers starting to stretch her perfectly, a teasing promise of more and bigger things to come.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

“I -“ she gasped as he crooked his fingers, pressing in even further. “I want all of you.”

She pressed back against his erection and it was his turn to groan.

“Say it,” he rumbled.

“…want your cock, Billy.”

“Hmmm…” he pretended to think while he circled his fingers around her swollen clit again, teasing her higher.

Addison felt the fire inside of her grow even hotter as he edged her closer to release, but stopped before she could reach it.

“What was that love?”

Addison hummed, squirming against his fingers but he held her hips still with his free hand.

“Your cock…need it Billy…”

“You’ll get it then,” he finally gave in. “Need ya on your knees for me now.”

“Condom?” she asked, turning to look back at him before she lost all sense.

“I’m clean,” he answered. “They tested me for everything when I were at - uh, last week. So we’re good.”

Addison almost asked where, even though she knew, but then she decided to let it go. It wasn’t the time. Instead, she turned over on her stomach, tossing her nightgown away, and smiled up at him. “Come and get me then, love,” she teased.

He gave a low, soft moan. “Sure?” he asked one last time, even as he was already moving into place.

She squirmed, letting her ass shake a little for him and he smacked the round cheek, making her purr before she spoke again, her voice a little breathless. “Might as well have some fun before I’m the size of a country cabin.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I’ll still want you the same.” Leaning over her, he bit the curve of her shoulder, then nuzzled a line of soft kisses down the length of her spine.

“This fuckin’ ass,” he rumbled and he grabbed her hips, tugging her up on her knees as soon as he was situated kneeling between her thighs. “Not an offer I’ll ever turn down. I want ya to press your cheek to the pillow there, love, get your arse all the way up in the air for me. Don’t move. Understand?”

Addison could only moan again, her core was aching for him with his knees pushing hers farther apart and knowing he was so close. But Billy Butcher loved to tease and she knew it. She shifted her body back anyway, searching for something, anything. And maybe if she found it he would give in.

But no.

“Mmmmm,” he rumbled, rough and low kneading her hips as he inched back and held her in place. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t ya.”

Addison whimpered a little, pressing her face against the pillows and holding on for dear life. Open to him like this, but without his touch or his cock just made her feel empty, made her want him more. His palm smoothed all the way up her back and back down over her ass, tracing the curves.

“Billy…” she begged.

He finally dipped his hand back down between her legs, pressing one and then two fingers inside of her tight core again. She was already drenched for him and she knew he loved it. After every second or third stroke, he’d glide them around her clit and then he’d slip them back inside.

After a few minutes of this Addison groaned with wanton impatience. It felt so good but she needed more.

“That’s my girl,” he husked in response, “soaking…” He pumped his fingers a few more times before he finally pulled back.

Addison mewed, knowing what was coming and pressed her hips back once more. He caught her around the waist and slapped her ass cheek again, making her jolt and moan, before he positioned her in front of him.

She felt the tip of his swollen cock first, teasing over her folds and she shifted her knees just a little, trying to spread her thighs further apart for him. He groaned and pushed in just an inch. Addison wanted to scream but she whimpered instead, breathing his name. “Billy…” She was desperate but this felt like something he really needed.

“Nice and slow, babe,” he rumbled. “Need it to last.”

And he kept to his word, pressing in slowly, inch by thick inch. Addison tried not to squirm too much but still she fluttered and squeezed around his shaft. He gave a husky moan every time she did and the sound took her even closer to the precipice.

When he pushed in as far as he could he paused there, rubbing his palms over her body prone in front of him and just letting her feel him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he husked. “My girl. Takin’ it all so well.”

After a long second he started to thrust, slowly, pulling back and pushing all the way in while Addison clutched the pillow in front of her, holding on as best she could. He felt so fucking good…

She moaned as he hit that perfect spot inside of her and his hands tightened on her hips. He pulled back and thrust in again, and again, and then suddenly she was coming, whimpering into the pillow as the aftershocks rolled through her and she couldn’t ever remember climaxing that quickly before.

“Fuck Billy,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, her entire body trembling.

He gave a husky chuckle in response, rubbing his palms soothingly over her back. “Ready for more yet, love?” he rumbled after only a moment, still deep inside of her.

She clenched around his length and nodded her head, not quite able to form words yet.

He started again, slowly thrusting in her body but careful not to overwhelm her or push too far too fast. He moved like he just wanted to stay here fucking her forever.

Eventually, though, he started to pick up his pace, thrusting harder, his grip tight and bruising on her hips, but she didn’t care. It all felt so good. “Billy…close…” she moaned. He slid his arms around her, pulling her up into a sitting position over his lap and then he started to thrust again, pushing deeper inside her. One hand slipped up to squeeze her breast while the other slid down, finding her clit easily.

She turned her head and he caught her in a sultry hot kiss, his tongue rough and possessive. As good as it felt for him to fuck her into the bed, seeing him out of the corner of her eye made her realize she was missing out on all of the view and she vowed to herself that next time he would be under her so she could savor looking at every inch of him.

But this…he thrust deeper and he felt so thick inside of her, filling her completely. She reached for his forearm, gripping it tightly as her head started to spin. “Oh fu…” she gasped. “Please…”

He made a low growling sound from behind her and circled his fingertips roughly over her clit as he continued to push his cock deep inside of her.

She held on to him like a lifeline, trying to prolong the euphoria for as long as she could, but it was impossible.

He bit at the shell of her ear. “Come for me, sunshine,” he husked, his voice gravely and gruff, “come on my cock…”

And she did, almost immediately and hard. A soft cry left her throat as she squeezed tight around him and pleasure exploded within her. His hips stuttered and he pushed himself deep inside her as his own orgasm came over him fast and forceful. He emptied himself inside her, rumbling a deep moan against her ear before he buried his face against the curve of neck and tightened his arms around her body, holding her to him.

Addison clung to him as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation washed through her, and he held her tight against him through all of it. Eventually she felt all strength leave her and he carefully slid out of her, tipping her down to the bed.

“Don’t move, love,” he rumbled in a hoarse voice and he left and returned to help her clean up. After that they laid in bed, just completely entangled, for hours.

It wasn’t until almost noon Addison even spoke again. “Let’s do something…just completely normal. Just once…like we’re normal people.”

He hummed, his eyes still closed but he rubbed at her hip. “Like what, love?”

She turned in his arms, to lay on her side and tilted her head to look up at him. “A movie? Nice and dark. And we don’t have to talk to anyone.”

He looked at her for a moment, his hazel eyes full of some unnamed emotion. But there was real love in there too, somewhere deep down.

“Sounds perfect, sunshine. Let’s go.”

~*~*~

karl urban masterlist

And we made it to the very end of season 3! When Butcher walks into the office at the flatiron building with that movie theatre soda cup in the last scene, I always imagine he had just come from a long healing bout of time with Addi. As always I have more to come!

Reblogs and likes and comments are appreciated so so much! Thank you for reading! The next part is mostly written but let me know what else you want to see!

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