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wtfsteveharrington · 10 days

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c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway.

“Where’ve you been tonight?”

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.”

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay.

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield.

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch.

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time.

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you.

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care.

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right?

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all.

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it.

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond?

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier.

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well.

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner.

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed.

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret.

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up.

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him.

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out.

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you.

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that?

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again.

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused.

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily.

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen.

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building.

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened.

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like.

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you.

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm.

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him.

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips.

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place.

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place.

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him.

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you.

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit.

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.”

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.”

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later.

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night.

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out.

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly.

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement.

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how.

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.”

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.”

You liked riling him up.

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain.

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him.

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself.

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.”

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support.

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well.

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had.

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body.

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he?

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone.

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all.

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail.

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away.

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse.

But tonight was different.

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.”

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home.

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable.

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through.

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms.

You never did.

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet.

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet.

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to.

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex.

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?”

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together.

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.”

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light.

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast.

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well.

4:39 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time.

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred.

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day.

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it.

The bed feels so much

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm

Headed to bed

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest.

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!”

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound.

And there he is.

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming?

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning.

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all.

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point.

————

10:32 am

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen!

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line?

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you.

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not.

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out.

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now.

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto.

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff.

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral.

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

#♡: c.b.#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear #the bear fic #the bear smut #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy bearzatto x you

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itsprashimusic · 3 months

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Maybe Leave The Cooking To Me

Summary - You love to cook, and Lando loves to help, but this time it goes sideways.

Pairings - Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Warnings - minor injury, reader has good relationship with parents, reader is same age as Lando, fluffy.

W/C - 1.4k

A/N - my first fic for f1 lets gooo Happy reading<3

Navigation

It was the end of a triple header meaning that now you had a break you were craving. The Monday meetings were done with, you and Lando were on the flight back to your Monaco apartment. The exhaustion caught up with you and the both of you were out within seconds of your heads hitting your pillows.

It was now a Tuesday night. There was some music playing in the living room, Lando was somewhere in the house, and you were in the kitchen. You wouldn’t call yourself a chef, but you loved to cook and learn new recipes. Travelling the world with Lando made it so that you would not get to cook very often, so when you did get to cook you would take the chance.

You sat on the counter contemplating what to cook. Before you shifted to Monaco your mom had written out a recipe book for you with all different kinds of recipes which she had found and curated to your and your family's taste and liking. So you sat on the counter, reading through the fat book.

"Babe, what do you wanna eat?" you yelled to Lando, your eyes still focused on the book. You didn't get a reply, but 5 seconds later he walked into the kitchen. "I'm not really sure," he said while walking up to you. He walked in between your legs and tilted the book in your hands so that he could read it.

"Oo, how about spaghetti? You always say how you wanted to make it." He said and pointed to it. "By that I meant making it from scratch. It is too late to do that." you reply and turn the page.

"Then just boil the spaghetti we have and make the sauce." The excitement in your eyes when you heard him say that made him chuckle. You got off the counter and began rummaging around the kitchen looking for all the ingredients. "Red sauce?" "Red sauce" he confirms. You get out the tomatoes, chillies, garlic, herbs and spices while Lando takes out the spaghetti.

You give him the simple task of watching the pasta boil and reminding you when it was 20 minutes. He dutifully did his task and even drained the water and left the spaghetti in the colander. It was getting late and the two of you were growing hungrier, but knew that the food would be worth the wait.

While waiting for the boiled tomatoes to cool you were cutting some onions and garlic. "Can you get the grinder out?" you asked Lando. He was a bit deep in thought, so only hummed before retrieving the asked for item. "What are you thinking about?" "I could've overtaken Russel at turn 14." he said.

"Baby, it's ok," you abandoned the half cut onions and wiped your hands. You walked over to Lando and gently made him look at you, "Could you have done something then? Yes. Can you do anything about it now? No. It's no use dwelling on something that can't be changed. The best you can make of it, is to be aware of it and try and avoid repeating it in the future. Hmm?" you hummed at the end with a nod. Lando looked at you and nodded along.

To get his mind off of the last race you got him to make good use of his muscles and crush some dried chillies. The cooking went on. You peeled the tomatoes, put them in the grinder and set up the wok on the stove. Lando was slicing some pieces of soft chicken which he wanted you to add in the sauce.

The sauce was half ready when you turned the gas off and went to the sink to wash your hands. "Is it done?" he asked you. 'No' you told him and dried your hands, "It still has some chunks which didn't get ground." This is where your casual Tuesday night took a turn.

Lando, being the muppet he is who can't cook, poured the chunky liquid into the grinder bowl, covered it and put it on the machine. You then faced him and saw what he did. But you did not have enough time to tell him to not do what he was about to do.

He turned the knob and within less than a second the hot tomato sauce spewed out of the bowl and all over you, Lando and your cosy kitchen.

You would expect that a formula 1 driver's quick reflexes would not just be limited to when they are driving. But if you saw the scene inside Lando and his girlfriend's kitchen on a Tuesday night after a triple header, you would be greeted with quite the opposite. The once clean kitchen was now covered in red food. You and Lando were covered in near-boiling hot pasta sauce.

When the sauce spewed out, Lando's first reaction was to let out a slightly high-pitched scream and you quickly turned the loud nightmare-like-sounding machine off. Neither of you said anything, you just looked around the kitchen, taking in the mess, processing what happened, and slowly registering the pain you felt where the sauce lay on your bare skin.

Thankfully most of the spilt sauce got on your t-shirts and not on either of your faces, but some did reach your arms. Lando was the first to say something "Ow, that hurts, that's-that's starting to burn, ouch." Without wasting much time, you grabbed his arm and took him to the bathroom. You turned the shower on, "keep your arm under the water. Do. Not. Move."

You went to the sink and shed your tomato-covered top and left it there. You got Lando to do the same and then joined him by putting your own, now slightly burnt, arms under the spray of cold water. "Baby, why did you start the grinder with a hot liquid inside of it?" you asked him, your voice soft and full of concern, "I'm not mad, just wanna know why."

"You said you had to grind it." His voice sounded broken, you wanted to hug him tight and never let go. "Lan, you have to wait till it has cooled down. The steam inside created pressure which caused the lid to pop open and the sauce to scatter everywhere." He just gave a quiet 'oh' in response.

"How much of your arm got burnt?" you asked and he showed you the parts which hurt. You left the bathroom and came back with two handkerchiefs and ice packs. With the help of rubber bands you secured the ice packs to his forearms. "Where are you going?" he asked when the two of you changed your clothes.

"To clean the kitchen and salvage whatever is left of the sauce."

"Let me help, please."

How could you say no to that face he was making? After some back and forth he got you to also attach an ice pack to your forearm. you grumbled but nevertheless allowed him to take care of you.

You both clean in silence. He cleaned the counter, cupboards and the grinder while you cleaned up the floor where most of the sauce got. 10 minutes later the now salvaged sauce was on the gas with the chicken in and almost ready to eat.

Lando got out two plates and served you both some spaghetti. Your stomach rumbled, which made him giggle. The two of you quickly began laughing. Some people process and handle things by crying, some yell, some throw things around the house and some just sit in silence and wallow and wither away. But you had a different way of coping with emotions and stress. By laughing. That was one thing you and your boyfriend had in common. You both would laugh to process things.

It was kind of the reason the two of you got together in the first place.

Soon the sauce was ready and was severed. You both took your plates and forks and sat on the couch, something ready to play on the TV. The ice packs had come off by then, but Lando insisted on wrapping the cold napkin around the red part of your hand which was not covered in ice earlier.

He finished wrapping your arm and you leaned forward to kiss his nose. Before you could reach though, his lips caught yours in a short but sweet kiss. You both ate your spaghetti and watched what was playing on the TV, occasionally making comments about it here and there.

"Babe"

"Yea?"

"Next time, maybe leave cooking to me?"

"I’m with you a 100 percent on that one"

A/N - this fic came to be because I read a lando fic where reader was eating chicken pasta and decided to cook spaghetti for the first time and ended up burning myself(dw i'm fine, the burn was very minor)

Hope you enjoyed reading<3

#itsprashimusic #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #desiblr #x desi!reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #f1 imagine #f1 fics #formula 1 fics #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine

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whore-era · 1 year

Text

1-800-GIRLS

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: where ellie dials the wrong number and meets you instead. ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, mentions spitplay/breathplay/overstimulation, mentions sexual interactions with men, dirty talking, guided masturbation (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames (babygirl, sweet girl, pretty girl, pup, puppy) let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: i feel like this kinda sucked bc towards the end i kinda rushed it, but i couldn't shake this idea n knew i had to write it. hope u like it bbs<3 also thank u to my bestie @elskittie for helping me figure some things out w this fic ☁︎ word count: 4,463 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 2

phone call style story — reader is in italics, ellie is in bold.

monday, 12:45am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, hot stuff?

uhh.. i just wanted to order a pepperoni pizza..

oh yeah? you want something hot and ready? i have something hot and ready for you.

ummm..

you hear some shuffling in the background, "jess! i think you gave me the wrong number!" the person comes back on the line again.

this isn't papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

....do you want me to roleplay as papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

woah woah woah! roleplay?? who the fuck am i on the phone with?

this is sugar from 1-800-GIRLS.....a sex hotline...for you know? phone sex.

PHONE SEX?? you hear the girl's voice yell in the background, "jesse! you ass! you gave me the number to a phone sex hotline!"

"does she sound hot?"

"well yeah, but—"

hey, you do know it's $1 a minute right? you've been on the line for almost 5 minutes, babe.

HUHH?? hell no..ok thanks sugar bear, or whatever. bye!

the line clicks off, and you shrug. sitting back in your bed to continue watching your favorite netflix show. you feel your work phone vibrate again, the name flashing 'bobby', a regular who frequents the hotline.

sighing and picking up your phone and holding it to your ear, you take a bite from your sandwich as you answer your 15th call this evening, "thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, big boy?"

tuesday, 2:12am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you tonight, cutie?

hey....sugar.. i just- er- wanted to apologize for yesterday. my buddy got your number confused with a pizza place we really wanted to try. didn't mean to sound rude last night.

it's no issue, babe. don't sweat about it.

.......

soooo.... is that the only reason why you called?

ellie didn't want to admit that she was attracted to 'sugar's' voice and that she'd been thinking about it all day during class. but also, ellie was high as a fucking kite, which gave her the courage to even dial the number again anyways.

i— uh— well— how does this whole thing work?

what thing? the hotline?

yeah..

well, you call me, we have phone sex or talk or whatever, and then you hang up. again, it's a dollar a minute.

okay, okay, i get it. so we can just talk? about anything?

yeah, if you want to.

sick.

ellie takes another drag from her joint, before speaking again.

so, do you like doing this? being an operator or whatever?

you let out a laugh, which ellie caught.

specify what you mean by 'like'?

i mean— this is your job. do you enjoy doing it?

ehh...i guess.

c'mon. you can be honest with me.

well, being a sex hotline operator has it's downsides. obviously helping old men jack off gets a little weird sometimes — they have some unusual fetishes.

oh yeah? what's been the weirdest one so far?

uhhh..i have this one regular who has me pretend i'm a ghost. apparently, having sex with ghosts is a real turn on for him.

what the fuck. seriously?

mhm, it's true.

shit, dude....i don't think i could ever do what you do. i dunno how you can do it.

well when you have college tuition and rent to worry about, the downsides don't seem all that bad.

holy shit, you're in college? how old are you anyways?

19.

that's crazy. we're around the same age. i figured you were a bit older.

how 'bout you? how old are you?

21.

not bad not bad. you're way different from the clients i usually get.

yeah? how?

considering my usual clients are 40 to 60 year old men who are married with kids and have secret fetishes, i'd say you're out of my ballpark.

ellie laughs.

how do you know i'm not secretly an old, 57 year old man who's married to my wife janet with three kids? and i have a balloon fetish?

you let out a giggle, adjusting your sleep shorts as you lay back down on your bed, completely invested in your conversation with this girl.

well, how can i appease your balloon fantasies?

i'm just fuckin' with ya. definitely not a man and i have the more normal kinks and fetishes.

is that so? what are the 'normal' kinks and fetishes?

uhhhh....well i'm into bondage, i love tying girls up..i dunno, just seeing them open and vulnerable does something to me. i'm into breathplay, spitplay, overstimulation, and i'm definitely a dominant so—

all you could do was gape as the girl went on her tangent, listing off every kink she could think of. you gulped, suddenly getting a bit nervous from this topic of conversation. you were experienced in the field of phone sex, but actual sex was a totally different world you had no practice in.

so, how 'bout you sugar?

...uhhh....i'm a virgin actually.

the other girl went silent on the other side of the line.

what? but you work as a sex hotline operator.

oh yeah- but— hold on, i'm getting another call. i'll speak to you some other time.

you hung up and threw your work phone across your bed, laying your head down on your pillows. talking to men was so much easier for you, so why do you get all caught up when you talk to a girl?

it was nearly 3:30am, so you decided to turn in and call it a night, mentally preparing yourself for a busy day tomorrow.

wednesday, 11:45am

sitting next to professor adams, patiently waiting for the students to turn in their quizzes, you try to focus on the text of your 'philosophy 101' book.

you were grateful that professor adams gave you the opportunity to be his teacher's assistant for a little bit of extra cash, and you weren't complaining either. the tasks he gave you were easy for a mere $16 an hour. still, it wasn't enough to support all of your bills, so you couldn't drop the hotline gig.

"and time! everyone hand your quizzes in to my TA, regardless if you finished or not," professor announced. all the students shuffled towards the front, handing you their quizzes as you neatly put them in a small pile.

"ah shit— let me put the date on that," a girl, with a very familiar voice spoke. looking up, you're greeted with the most attractive girl you've seen in your life. she had brunette hair and green eyes, with a small scar on her right brow. was this..? no, it couldn't be. that would be insane.

handing you the paper, her hand brushes against yours. you look down at her quiz, seeing in messy, scribbled black ink the name ellie williams.

slinging her backpack on one arm, she heads out the door, "jesse! wait up for me!"

leaving you in a daze, you were completely speechless by the idea that one of your new, favorite clients from your nighttime job is actually a student at your university.

saturday, 1:45am → 1:14:34 ongoing call with 401-890-6798 (cranston, RI)

thanks, sugar. will be calling you again at the same time next week.

no problem, sir. goodnight. dream of me.

sure will, babygirl.

the line clicks as the older man hangs up, and you shudder a bit, feeling uncomfortable after having to roleplay as a ghost, again.

sighing heavily, you place your work phone on your desk and pick up your real phone, opening instagram and scrolling on your feed as you mindlessly snack on some gummy bears.

you double tap to like some of your friends pictures, wishing you were out at a party, drinking some lukewarm beer and dancing with your girls to the latest tiktok hits.

but instead you were cooped up in your apartment, dirty talking old men through their fantasies and bearing witness to their guttural groans and masturbation. it was a shame that friday and saturday nights were your busiest evenings.

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment, your finger hovering over the instagram search bar.

fuck it, you thought, typing 'ellie williams' and hitting search.

the username @_elliewilliams pops up, and bingo. it was the same girl from professor adams class.

luckily her profile was public, so you take your time carefully combing through her instagram account, mindful not to accidentally like her posts or anything.

ellie's feed consisted of smoking weed, eating out, and hanging with her friends, jesse and dina. there were only two selfies she had posted — one of her and an older gentleman and one mirror picture of her in a grey hoodie and a light brown canvas jacket that made her look so good.

the ringing from your work phone caught you off guard, causing you to jump in your chair and exit out of the instagram app. you take a look at the number, and speak of the devil, it was ellie herself. she was the only jackson number that ever contacted you.

saturday, 2:10am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, sugar speaking. what can i do for you, handsome?

hey, sugar. just wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went. i probably pushed a boundary or something— i'm not sure if you're supposed to talk about personal things with customers— so, i'm sorry.

you let out a soft laugh.

why is it when you call me, you're always apologizing?

'cause i'm a fuck up, that's why.

nooo, that's not true. besides, don't worry about it. your question just caught me off guard, you know? never had clients ask things about me before i guess.

ahh, gotcha. so...were you busy before i called?

you shake your head, even though she was on the phone and couldn't see you.

uh, not really. my line doesn't usually get busy until...12 midnight ish.. it slows down by like 2 am though. how about you? what are you up to this friday night?

i just got back home from a party. business was slow and it was getting boring, so i dipped.

business? what business?

ah— well—

ellie silently cursed to herself, not wanting to scare you away with her current occupation.

if i tell you what i do, promise you won't get freaked out or anything?

you're talking to a phone sex hotline operator. don't worry.

you can hear her laugh from the other end.

well, fuck it, cat's out of the bag. i deal weed on campus and shit.

ahhh. i like that. is that how you can afford the minutes you spend calling me?

yup. i can stay on the phone for hours if we wanted.

maybe you'll be my only customer.

i wouldn't complain.

speaking of customers, do you want me to save your number under a specific name or nickname or anything? since i'm assuming you're gonna be a regular?

trying to confirm if it was indeed ellie you were speaking with, you sat on the edge of your chair, anxiety building in your belly.

what nicknames do your clients usually pick?

uhhh. master, sir, king, mister, alpha— umm and daddy.

something stirred inside ellie hearing that last nickname roll off your tongue.

you could just put me down as ellie.

got it.

what do i call you? do i just keep calling you sugar?

well, you're a customer. you can call me anything you like, but, for formalities and privacy, i can only tell you my hotline nickname — sugar.

okay, okay, that makes sense. you're not really allowed to have any personal or close relationships with clients, huh?

no, not really. mostly for safety purposes.

ellie was a little disappointed to know that she wouldn't be able to get to know the girl she was talking to beyond calling on the phone. she already felt herself getting attached. your voice was alluring and enticing, and she couldn't help but want to hear it more, and possibly put a name and face to who it belonged to.

but, i could bend the rules a little if i really wanted to.

yeah? let's see about that.

saturday, 4:45 am → 2:43:03 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

oh my god! did you and your ex get caught??

you were enamored with ellie. the way she could keep a conversation going and the stories she told — you didn't wanna hang up.

no, no, no, luckily we hid behind a dumpsters before the cops could catch us. it's hilarious thinking about it now, but we were dumbass 18-year-olds back then.

you both were in fits of laughter, your belly aching and tears watering in the corners of your eye.

as you calmed down, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking a question that's been racking on your mind.

so, how long were you and your ex together?

uhhhh, about 2 years.

ohhh okay........are you seeing anyone right now?

ellie lets out a laugh, and you can hear her smile, even through the phone.

why? who's asking?

well, i was just— uhh—

i'm just fuckin' with you. nah, i'm not seein' anyone right now. single af.

okay, okay. good to know.

how 'bout you?

nope. i'm single too.

seriously?? how?

i dunno. just never found the right person i guess. also, working for this hotline has made me lose hope for relationships in general, some of these dudes call me and say all this stuff — while having a whole wife and family at home.

i think you're looking in the wrong place then. try talking to people at school or going out to parties—

can't. if i'm not doing homework or studying, i'm working and doing this. i gotta make a living somehow.

ellie couldn't help but feel bad, knowing if she could, she'd support you full time and take that weight off your shoulders.

hmm, maybe you'll meet someone who could support you and take care of your bills and stuff.

oh? where would i find that? sounds too good to be true.

maybe they're closer to you than you think.

your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say next.

i— uh— i have to go. it's 5am.

oh— uh— yeah. of course. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

sunday, 11:37pm → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

hey.

hey. where's your usual greeting?

you're not a usual customer, so i think we're past that now, ellie.

ellie's heart thumped in her chest hearing you say her name.

good. anyways, what are you up to tonight?

just studying for a quiz tomorrow morning. how about you?

smoking, just finished some homework.

what class was it for?

uhhh, just this calculus class.

you clamped your mouth shut, suppressing a gasp. it was for professor adams class.

....uhhh, i could never get calculus. it's so hard.

yeah? maybe one night i can tutor you.

i'd be a terrible student.

i think you'd be the perfect student. i can teach you, i got you.

you couldn't help but think there was another meaning behind her words, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions. it would be embarrassing if you got her message all wrong.

what's your quiz on anyways?

energy transfer between cells, it's for biology.

i know a thing or two about that. here— why don't we do this, just explain to me what you know and we'll go from there.

okay, i can do that.

you and ellie spent the next two and a half hours talking about cell function and energy transfer and everything else in between, with her correcting you and adding in important things you missed.

alright, sugar, i think you're ready for this quiz tomorrow.

you think so?

i know so. you're such a smart girl.

there she goes again, praising you.

uh, th-thanks.

don't worry, okay? i know you'll do great.

a smile curls on your lips, flustered from all her support.

you should get some sleep, so you can be focused and ready for tomorrow.

m'kay. thank you, ellie, for all your help.

of course. always. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

monday, 5:32pm → 45:21 ongoing call with mister j (corpus christi, TX)

yeah, babe? you want me to fuck your tight ass?

mhm, yes mister.

c'mon. beg, sugar.

please. fuck my tight hole, mister j.

ah, hell.

you can hear his belt buckle clanging, and the soft buzz of a zipper.

what's wrong with 'ya tonight, sugar? you're bein' a real buzzkill, 'ya know that? fuckin' turnin' me off and makin' me soft.

i-i'm sorry, mister j. please, jus—

yea, yea, save it. we'll jus' try 'gain tomorrow.

the line clicks on the other end. tossing your work phone on your desk, you fall back on your bed and stuff your face in your pillow. weeping into the plush material, you let yourself fall apart and break down.

but your sobbing session is cut short as you can hear the familiar ring of your work phone.

wiping your tears, you walk over to your desk and answer.

monday, 5:45pm → 00:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

thanks for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's suga-

woah, woah, woah are you crying?

e-ellie?

yeah, baby, it's me. sounds like you're crying. what's going on? talk to me.

today was just a really, really bad day and then i opened my hotline a little early and one of my first clients just lashed out on me because i wasn't responding the way he wanted me to and—

you sniffle.

— and i'm just really stressed out by everything going on in my life right now.

i'm sorry. i wish there was something i could do— someway i could comfort you or take the weight off.

i-it's fine, ellie. talking to you is making it a little better.

ellie was silent for a moment, thinking carefully and planning her next moves accordingly.

do you trust me?

....y-yea, of c-course. why?

i'm gonna help you ease the tension. okay?

okay.

first of all, where are you?

i-in my room, sitting at my desk.

okay. go lay down on your bed.

with your phone pressed to your ear, you pick up your legs and stride over to your bed, laying down on the fluffy, material of your blanket.

okay, i'm on my bed.

good. what are you wearing?

foreseeing the direction this phone call was heading in, apprehension builds in your stomach.

ellie, you really don't have to-

hey, i want to help you. if that's okay with you. if not, we could talk about something instead.

biting your lip, you fold.

i-i'm okay with it, but i-i've never— played with myself with a customer before. i don't really do anything with myself even when i'm not working anyways.

that's okay. don't think of me as a customer, think of me as a...teacher. i got you, remember?

okay.

good girl. now, what are you wearing?

uh.. a tank top and shorts.

cute. take them off.

gulping, you follow her orders, shimmying out of your top and shorts.

done?

mhm.

good. so obedient.

i want you to rub your boobs for me. rub your nipples, pull on them, just feel the skin under your hand for me, baby.

rubbing the soft skin along your breast, and tugging on your hardened nipples, you bite your lip, savoring the way your body feels under your touch.

how does it feel?

feels good.

bet it does.

ellie couldn't stop her mind from imagining you, on your bed, perfectly naked. and how she'd give everything up, just to sneak a peek.

now, i want you to just rub your hands against the sensitive parts of your body. be slow and gentle, we're not rushing anything.

as your hands drift from your neck, down to the hills of your breasts, and to the edge of your panties, ellie speaks through the line again.

doesn't it feel nice, baby?

mhm.

wish i could be there, to watch you, touching your pussy.

you instinctively clamp your thighs, feeling heat rush to your core.

alright, take your panties off. slowly.

you slowly peel the piece of material off, looking at the small, wet spot that formulated on your underwear.

okay, they're off.

such a good girl, following my every command.

you gulp, her nickname for you sending shivers up your spine.

slowly feel the skin on your legs. stroke your inner thighs, tease yourself a little.

hanging off on her every word, you let out a shaky breath, the heat in your cunt growing only bigger and bigger.

god, i wish i can be there to see this right now. bet you look so good, thighs spread apart, pussy all wet— all because of me.

i- i'm aching. i need more, ellie.

i know, baby, i know. i wish i can help you more. if it were up to me, i'd have you bent over your desk, taking you from the back. fuck.

your mind drifts to that image, of her fucking you, taking you as hers. a stream of your slick begins to leak out from your pussy. god, you wanted her so bad.

slide a finger between your pussy, baby. let me hear how wet you are.

spreading your thighs apart, the tip of your fingers slips in between the folds of your pussy lips, the slick sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room. loud enough for ellie to hear.

fuuuuuck.

you tried to speak, but it comes out sounding like a pathetic whimper. ellie's brain was going insane, she couldn't believe where she had you, writhing from her mere words.

go ahead, pretty girl. rub slow circles on your clit.

the pads of your pointer and middle finger gently rub steady, figure 8's against your hardened nub. closing your eyes, you imagined ellie, and how it was her hand instead of yours. the thought had you panting, faint breaths releasing from your parted lips.

your pussy sounds so wet, holy shit. you sound so fucking good for me. so fucking perfect.

as your fingers continue massaging on your sopping, wet clit, a pool of wetness gathers right below your ass.

how does it feel, baby?

f-feels amazing, ellie.

you let out a low whimper.

i wish you were here.

me too, pup. me too.

you can hear her heavy breaths from the other end of the phone.

i wish i could be there, kissing your neck. trailing my lips down to suck on your nipples. fuuck, wanna taste every inch of your skin. i wanna feel your pussy tighten around my fingers.

you let out another pitiful moan, only to hear ellie curse under her breath again.

rub your pussy faster for me, angel. imagine it's me, pumping my fingers in and out. would daddy's pretty girl like that?

you couldn't respond. all you could let out was these weak whines, yearning for ellie and her touch. you added a third finger, building onto the pressure and picking up the speed.

your moans sound so pretty. wonder how'd they sound when you're taking my strap. gonna have you cry out my name, yeah? isn't that right?

mhm, yes, daddy.

good. that's what daddy likes to hear, such a polite girl.

with your eyes rolling back, you could feel your orgasm building.

i-i'm gonna— ellie, i—

you gonna cum for me, puppy? huh? c'mon, rub faster, baby. i know you have a little bit more left in you.

your fingers speed up, the sound of your wetness gushing out reverberated in ellie's ear.

oh my god, daddy can i? please? can i—

arching your back, you knew you were close. the feeling was getting to be too much and you were about to fall over the edge.

look at my baby, so respectful and asking permission. come on, pretty puppy. cum for daddy. let daddy hear how good she made you feel.

that was it. letting out a penetrating moan, you rode your orgasm out and finished all over your fingers, making a mess. you were heaving, chest rapidly rising and falling.

god, i made a mess.

oh, yeah? do one more thing for me. suck your fingers clean. puppies clean up their messes.

monday, 8:57pm → 3:01:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

after your little self-care session with ellie, she took it upon herself to get your mind off of today's events, filling your conversation with stories and interesting topics.

oh, forgot to ask, what'd you end up getting on that biology quiz?

ughhh, i got a 65 out of 100. one of the reasons why i was so upset today.

seriously? how?

i don't know! i asked professor gonzalez and she told me that i was focusing on the wrong thi-

wait, did you just say professor gonzalez? holy shit, you're taking biology 201 with professor g? do you fucking go to school at university of wyoming? in jackson?

oh shit, you didn't mean for that to slip out.

i— uh— i have to go—

wait! sugar! please. hear me out.

you stay silent, waiting for what she had to say.

if we really do go to the same campus, please, let's meet up. i really want to see you.

.....why?

i just— i love talking to you. spending hours with you on the phone is what i look forward to when i get home. besides, i really want to take you out, on a date.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

listen, if you want to see me too, meet me at the library in building B, by the comic book section. okay? tomorrow at 1pm.

....

i really hope you come.

the line clicks off, and you spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to see her tomorrow.

tuesday, 2:50pm

ellie eagerly checked her phone again, bouncing her knee in distress. her mind was running rampant — fuck, she's not gonna come. maybe jesse was right. maybe i was wasting my time.

looking up for the 80th time, she scans the comic book section, seeing no one else but some dude with his face buried in a wonder woman comic.

as ellie gets up from her chair, she turns her head, and she freezes.

there you were, looking like an angel who entered from the garden of eden. ellie's heart sped up, seeing her girl standing before her. you were everything she could've imagined and better.

walking slowly towards the brunette, you brush a piece of hair from your face, and smile meekly.

"hi ellie, it's me."

pls let me know how this fic was, i tried out a new writing style & read pt 2 here <3

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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sturnioloremarker · 2 months

Text

You're Pregnant?

Pairing: Boyfriend!Matt × Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

By: @lenna-77

Summary: Y/N lives with the triplets, who were her bestfriends since she was 3, but she's also Matt's girlfriend. Matt realizes that she's been kind of out of it for the third time but he doesn't think much of it. Until.... Y/N buys a pregnancy test without Matt's knowledge. This fiction follows up on the summary...

Warnings: angst, pregnancy, crying, parts of suggestive talk.

Matt's age in this fic: 20 Y/N's age in this fic: 19

_____________________________________________

Monday

8:26 p.m

The smell of pancake batter hit Y/N's nose from under the crack beneath the door. But it doesn't make her hungry, instead, it made her feel to puke. A gag escaped her lips as she got up from the bed her and her boyfriend slept on.

Her legs made their way to the door of Matt's room, opening it and going to her and Matt's bathroom, immediately dropping on her knees infront of the toilet.

It doesn't take long for the brunette who was sleeping beside her to follow behind her, almost immediately taking her hair into a makeshift ponytail, rubbing her back as Y/N lets out all of the vomit that settled in her throat.

"C'mon baby, it's okay, you're okay. Let it out." Matt says, as tears started falling from Y/N's eyes as she coughs up the rest of her vomit.

She stays there for a moment before Matt helps her up. She picks up her toothbrush and squeezes some toothpaste on it, wetting it and putting it in her mouth and brushing her teeth.

Her and Matt are so caught up in making sure she's okay that they don't see Chris standing there, a concered look on his face. "Woah. Y/N, are you okay?" Chris asked as he walked into the bathroom.

Y/N nods before finishing up brushing her teeth. "Yeah, I'm good." She says as she smiles at Chris and Matt.

"Well, there's pancakes if your hungry." Chris says, the word alone making the girl feel nauseous again as Chris walks away.

"Baby, you okay?" Matt asked his girlfriend who was sloshing around mouth wash in her mouth.

Y/N spat out the liquid that was in her mouth. "I'm fine Matt." Y/N said in a slightly annoyed tone before walking out the bathroom.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Tuesday

10:58 p.m

Y/N layed on her and Matt's bed as she scrolled through her phone.

She heard the door open as her boyfriend walked in the room, grabbing her phone and putting it to the side. "Hey sexy." Matt said with a smirk as he leaned down to kiss her, but she dodged the kiss with a quick tilt of her head to the side.

Matt looked at her confused, but Y/N was the first to speak up. "Matt, I'm really sleepy, can we just... lay down for a bit. I just wanna watch a movie with you, please?" She asked Matt in loving and gentle tone.

"Sure baby, yeah. I'm a grown man, I can say no to sex." The boy said before laying on the bed and putting Y/N ontop of his chest before putting on her comfort movie.

Wednesday

7:40 p.m

Y/N called Madi this morning to tell her what was going on for the past 2 days and she offered to buy a pregnancy test for her.

"Madi, no! I can get it myself." She said, not wanting Madi to spend money on her. She had been negotiating with Madi on the phone, while Madi was in target.

"Well, to bad cause it's in my bag already. I'll drop it off now. Bye love." Madi said over the phone. Y/N opened her mouth to negotiate once more, but Madi hung up the phone before a word can come out of her mouth.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

25 minutes later -

She got the pregnancy test from Madi and was now sat on the toilet, waiting for the results on the pregnancy test.

'What if it does come out positive?' The girl thought to herself. 'What if he doesn't wanna kee- 'BING!' Her thoughts were cut short by the bing of her alarm.

She sucked in a deep breath before looking at the test, but little did she know, the test had a positive sign on it. Which made Y/N's face drop.

Two lines, two people who have to decide a future, two uncles who don't know they were going to be uncles, two grandparents who lived in boston, two grandparents who lived not quite far away from their house. And two different ways this pregnancy could go.

Y/N's hands shaked as she held the stick. Matt was lying in their room, watching a movie.

Y/N took the courage she had in her and walked to the room, opening the door and closing it as she walked inside.

"Babe, what's wrong sweetheart? What's in your hand?" Matt asked as he walked up to her, taking the pregnancy test from her hand gently.

Y/N couldn't do anything but cry, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought we used good protection. I didn't mean to." Y/N cried as she collapsed into Matt's arms.

Matt didn't say anything he just smiled as he saw the pregnancy test. "Hey love, it's okay, it isn't your fault. You didn't do anything. But baby, your pregnant. We're gonna have a baby!" Matt said as he cupped her cheeks.

"Your not mad?" She sniffled as Matt looked at her flabbergasted.

"What? No!" Matt said with a smile. "I'm gonna be a dad! A-And you're gonna be a mom! We're gonna have a little baby. It's gonna be fine, I promise, pinky promise." Matt said as he held out his pinky, knowing Y/N (and me) takes pinky promises very seriously.

She smiled as she interlocked pinkies with Matt before he leant down, kissing her lips. He wiped her tears before speaking. "C'mon, we'll be alright. Even if it's not easy, we're together. We'll be fine, we'll be a team. And I promise that I'll always be there for you." Matt said before hugging his still half-sniffling girlfriend.

In the end, it actually was: Two lines, two people who decided a future, two uncles who figured out they were going to be uncles, two happy grandparents who lived in boston, two happy grandparents who lived not quite far away from their house. And one way this pregnancy would go.

______________________________________________

@yo123itsme I'm so sorry for breaking my pinky promise. I feel so bad rn.

@lenna-77 I'm so sorry the fic you asked for a month ago took so fucking long. I'm so so sorry!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Anyway, as always requests are always open!!

LOVE Y'ALL!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

TAGLIST: @junnniiieee07 @sturnpooks @raysmayhem-72 @littlebookworm803

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine

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thewayitalknj · 4 months

Text

Friday, I'm In Love?

Eddie Munson x Female Reader.

When random corny love notes start appearing in your locker, you're wondering who the hell Is taking time out of their day to think of you.

Quick Notes - Happy Valentine's Day! I got this idea while playing our Valentine's Day Playlist at work and thought I would write something. Super short but to the point, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count - 849 (Told you it was short) Warnings - None! Enjoy :)

Monday That's when the first note fell out of your locker. When the small piece of paper fell onto the floor you were confused. You had all your notes, what could this possibly be? You opened it up and read the message ; Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours.

"The actual fuck?" You laugh.

"Whacha got there?" Eddie snatches the note from your hand and reads it in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard, clearly used for DM'ing only. You close your locker and lean against it. "You have a secret admirer? That's adorable." You take the note back and stuff it in your bag.

"Beats me. Probably someone playing a stupid prank."

"Or someone's in love with you."

"I highly doubt that."

Tuesday ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles.

"So, who do you think it's from?" Jonathan asks as you walk the track field for gym.

"No idea. I just find it odd. Why now? For fucking Valentine's Day?"

"Maybe they think it's the right time since it's a holiday about love."

"I still think it's a silly prank."

"Or someone is in love with you." He smiles.

"Well, I highly doubt it."

Wednesday ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake.

"I like this one, it has to do with food." Robin snarks, holding all 3 notes in her hand.

"That's such a you comment to say."

"What are you guys talking about?" Nancy takes a seat next to you at the lunch table.

"Someone has been leaving me stupid notes with pick up lines in my locker everyday this week."

"And you don't know who it is yet?"

"Nope."

"You haven't recognized the hand writing?"

"See, this is why you're the smart one." Robin states.

"I never even thought of that, let me take a look." You examine the writing on the notes. "Yeah I got nothing. Who knows, it could be very obvious and I don't even see it."

"Or, someone is in love with you."

"Again, I highly doubt it."

Thursday You fling your locker open and there fell a note. ; If I were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you.

"Okay, that's it. I'm done with these. Thank god tomorrow is Friday."

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Eddie asks.

"Nope, I haven't. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, of course not. But speaking of stupid," He pulls out his math binder. "Here are the math notes you needed."

"Thanks, I'll get them back to you tomorrow. I can't believe you actually paid attention."

"Well if I want to graduate I gotta do some work, ya know?"

Later that night you're doing homework in your bedroom and started organizing your math notes. Using Eddie's notes from earlier you flip over the page to continue note taking when you notice some scribbles at the bottom, definitely not pertaining to math. Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours. ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles. ; If you were a fruit you would be a fine apple ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake. you're a 9 out of 10 and i'm the 1 you need ; well i'm here so what are your other two wishes? if you were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you ; if you let me borrow a kiss I promise I'll give it right back to you.

A lightbulb goes off and you immediately reach for the love notes in the front pouch of your backpack.

"Holy shit." You whisper.

Friday The morning bell rings as you slip a note into Eddie's locker. ; Roses are red, Violets are blue. I found out who you are, and you must admit it to me too. Meet me at the picnic table after school.

The afternoon bell rings as you take off towards the woods to meet Eddie.

You sat on the table impatiently waiting, bouncing your leg up and down until a familiar face appears before you.

"What's this?" He asks waving the note in his hand.

"It's you."

"What do you mean it's me?"

You wave the four notes in front of him this time. "Didn't get one this morning. I beat you too it."

"That's not me."

"Stop lying Eddie."

"But it's not. Can you prove it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Your math notes." He looks at you confused, taking out his backpack and finding his notes. As you watch him flick through his eyes get wide.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

"Yeah I said the same thing."

"Look I'm sorry-"

"Why are you sorry? And why didn't you just say anything in the first place?"

"Because it wasn't suppose to end like this, and I didn't know how you would react. So I thought this would be a good way to ask you out. Maybe. Possibly."

You nod your head and look down to the ground.

"So?" He ponders.

"So what?" You look back up.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

You smile.

#Spotify #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson blurb #Valentine's Day #Kierstyn Writes

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akanemnon · 3 months

Note

Though I'm sure it's mostly for the gag, I'm very interested in this issue's Calendar. Assuming the hypothetical chapter 3 takes place over the course of a single day like the other 2 released chapters: If Monday was Chapter 1, Tuesday Chapter 2, and Wednesday Chapter 3, that would make the start of this comic Thursday and the day this issue takes place Friday. With Asriel in game said to come home either Monday or Tuesday (7 days from Chapter 1), I find it VERY interesting that you choose to obscure Monday's list, and keep Tuesday's unrelated. I really wonder how this Kris really feels about Asriel coming home.

Well considering that Chapter 3 is on an implied day-off (possibly a Saturday?), you could also say that the schedule is for the next week... But like Twin Runes takes place over the course of two days, which makes the first day a Monday and the second day a Tuesday... Or maybe I just wanted to do a silly YSAC joke and didn't think about the implications... Prooooooobably the latter Whoops :')

#ask #twin runes

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tigertales9 · 7 months

Text

Hard Reset VI

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This fic mostly covers the bye week secret wedding with a little before and after.

Time/Place: Monday, Oct. 16, 2023 - Tuesday, Oct. 17, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio + the lakehouse

A/N: This is the sixth fic in the Hard Reset series.

This secret wedding/honeymoon fic has gotten totally out of hand, y'all! I've spent about 4 hours today trying to edit it, and instead I keep adding to it. It's like a runaway train that I'm no longer in control of! It's so long now that I might post it in 3 parts. I'm dropping this first part tonight which covers the secret wedding and a little more. The next chapter(s) will cover the rest of the honeymoon.

~ ~ Remember I posted a sneak peek of this fic, so if the first bit looks familiar, that's why. ~ ~

I'm also including a pic link from the Seahawks game to give a mental image of what Joe looked like during the bye week. Be sure to click the pic to zoom in.

Sexy Scruff

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday, 10/16/23 (the morning after the week 6 win against the Seahawks)

You moan at the feel of gentle pressure against your clit, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of Joe's husky voice in your ear.

"You awake?"

"I am now," you whisper, biting your lip as he continues to rub your sensitive bud while pressing wet kisses against your neck.

"I woke up thinking about last night and it made me horny," he admits as he continues to tease you.

"Mmmm," you hum, your mind rewinding to last night …

~ ~ ~

He'd made liberal use of the whipped cream, frosting your nipples with the sweet whip several times then licking and sucking it off while you squirmed underneath him; he finally made his way down your body, taking his time to frost your belly button and inner thighs, leaving love bites in sensitive places as you buried a hand in his hair and begged for more. You remember the look on his face when he tossed the can of cream aside, his eyes icy-hot with arousal. "I'm not gonna put any whipped cream here," he moaned, lapping at your wet folds, "because you already taste perfect."

~ ~ ~

The feel of one long finger sliding inside your slick heat brings you back to the present. "Last night was really hot," you sigh, a shiver running through you as he sucks a nipple while slowly pumping his finger in and out. "I'm still kinda sticky since I crashed before taking a shower," you mutter.

"Let me make you stickier then we can shower together," he coaxes, crawling on top of you and giving you a dirty grin when your thighs instinctively spread wide to accommodate his big body. "Okay?" he asks, pressing the tip of his erection against your entrance, holding still until you answer.

"Yes, sir," you breathe, arching up when he slides his shaft inside you and immediately starts thrusting, slow at first and then faster. You dig your fingers into his plump ass, a thrill running through you at the feel of his muscles tensing and reloading as he drives his hips forward again and again, still holding back a little until you're ready to take all of him. A delicious coil of tension builds in your core at the noise he makes low in his throat when you beg him to fuck you hard.

~ ~ ~

An hour and a half later -- after a couple of orgasms, a shared shower and a quick breakfast -- Joe slides the last dish in the dishwasher and wraps his hands around your waist as you place a jar of raspberry jam in the fridge. He drops a kiss on your lips as you pivot and look up at him. "I'll be home by noon," he promises. "Then we can finish packing for the lake."

"I'm already packed," you chuckle. "We're going for three nights not three weeks."

"Well, I still have a few things to pack," he states. "This whole thing was my idea and I just wanna make sure I get it right."

You rise up on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his lips. "They have pretty much everything we need already there," you soothe, ruffling a hand through his hair while giving him a warm smile. "Clothes, toiletries and groceries are the main things we need to take, and we'll buy most of the groceries once we get there."

He returns your smile as he takes a deep breath. "Are you excited we're getting married tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I am. What about you?"

"Yeah." He leans down and presses a lingering kiss on your lips, holding eye contact as he leans back. "I can't wait. It feels like we've been heading for this since I first laid eyes on you."

"I agree."

He narrows his eyes at you playfully. "When you first laid eyes on me, you thought I was a typical fuck boy and wanted nothing to do with me."

"But you were very persistent," you grin, "and once I got to know you, I fell for you hard and fast." You bite your lip and break eye contact, looking at his chest as you continue. "I knew you had the ability to break my heart into a million pieces, and it scared the hell out of me, that's why I was reluctant to go out with you."

He places a finger under your chin and gently tilts your head up until you make eye contact with him again. "I felt the same way about you, and the truth is I'm still scared when I let myself dwell on it." He shrugs his broad shoulders, the action causing a rogue curl to pop loose from his slicked back hair and dangle against his forehead. "This secret wedding is a way to quiet the voices in my head."

"What are the voices saying?"

"That you're gonna leave me for some dude with a boring job."

"I thought we put that issue to bed," you scold playfully. "I'm not gonna leave," you continue. "You have nothing to worry about, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He takes a deep breath while he studies your face, his expression going from serious to playful. "Good." He leans down and gives you one more kiss before turning to head for the door. "I'll see you around noon," he says, giving you a wink before disappearing out the door.

You shake your head as the door closes behind him, a little perplexed, as usual, at his two very different demeanors -- super confident pro athlete who occasionally shows a major lack of confidence in his relationship with you.

"Life with him is never boring," you muse to yourself, shifting mental gears as you think about everything you need to get done today.

~ ~ ~

Several hours later -- after handling a final work issue before vacation -- you're finishing up a few errands, walking around a liquor store when your phone rings.

"Hey babe," you answer.

"Hey, where are you?" Joe asks.

"The liquor store. I'm getting some spiced rum to go in the apple cider we'll be buying at the farmers market fall fest."

"I'm starting to think you're looking forward to the fall fest more than the secret wedding," he chuckles.

"I'm looking forward to both," you admit, laughing along with him. "Where are you?"

"Home."

You check your watch, surprised to find it's almost 2:00. "Dang, I lost track of time."

"No problem, I didn't get home until about twenty minutes ago."

"How's the calf?"

"Good. Imaging was clean."

"Yay!"

"For real. Plus everyone was surprised that the swelling is so minimal." He gives a dirty chuckle before continuing. "I told 'em it must've been all that whipped cream I licked off of you last night."

"What?!"

"I'm kidding," he chortles. "I didn't say that, but I do think it helped."

"How would licking whipped cream off of me help with the swelling in your calf?"

"Because all of the swelling that would've been happening in my calf was happening in my dick instead. Get it?"

"You're demented."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you snort. "Listen, I'll be home as soon as I find the spiced rum."

"We still having pizza?"

"Yes," you answer, "and then you're gonna play video games with the guys."

"Are you sure? I thought I might skip this week since we have so much going on."

"You planned this whole secret wedding and honeymoon; you deserve a break. Plus, I still need to try on a few things and decide what I'm wearing tomorrow for the ceremony."

"You'll be gorgeous in whatever you wear." His voice drops an octave as he continues. "Maybe I can watch you try on dresses instead of playing video games?"

"No sex tonight, daddy," you tease, giggling when he groans. "We decided to abstain tonight, remember? So tomorrow night will be even more intense."

"Yes, ma'am, I remember," he sighs. "Just don't complain tomorrow when I try to get you in bed super early."

"When have I ever complained about that?" you ask.

"Never," he admits.

"And I'm not about to start now," you soothe, ending the call when you finally find the spiced rum.

~ ~ ~

About thirty minutes later, you park your car in the garage, grab a couple bags of groceries plus the spiced rum and head in the house, dropping everything on the kitchen island before calling out for Joe. "Babe? Where you at? Did you order the pizza?"

You get no response but hear muted noises coming from the laundry room so head in that direction. "Babe?" you call again, walking into the laundry room just in time to see Joe frantically pulling some teal blue sheets out of the dryer and cramming them into a duffle bag. "What are you doing?" you ask. "Are those new sheets?"

"Yeah," he says sheepishly. "I … ummm … I was packing them for the trip."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Don't they have sheets at the Airbnb?"

"I mean … yeah … but …"

His deer-in-the-headlights look makes you narrow your eyes at him before he speaks up again.

"Listen," he says, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with you. "We'll be sleeping on these sheets for the first time as husband and wife, and I want to keep them, okay?"

"Awww!" You smile at him and step closer. "That's so romantic and sentimental," you whisper, smiling even bigger when his cheeks turn bright red. His 'aw shucks' demeanor and blushing cheeks framed by sexy scruff make you want to climb him like a tree; he raises an eyebrow as you bite your bottom lip, easily reading your mind, as usual. You rise up on your tiptoes just as he wraps his hands around your waist, your mouths meeting in a kiss that starts slow but quickly heats up. His hands slide down to squeeze your leggings-clad butt just as the doorbell rings.

"Crap," he mutters against your slick lips. "That's the pizza."

"Good timing," you state, pressing another kiss on his lips before stepping back.

"You think getting cockblocked by pizza delivery is good timing?"

"Today it is since we're supposed to be abstaining from sex until tomorrow night."

He gives you a playful grimace. "That's gonna be tough since I can't be around you without wanting to fuck you stupid."

"Romantic, sentimental and horny," you giggle, shaking your head as you hurry to answer the door.

"That's a good combo though, right?" he calls after you.

"The best!" you answer, throwing him a wink over your shoulder just before you round the corner.

~ ~ ~

A couple hours later -- after eating some pizza, watching a little TV together, and shooing Joe off to play video games with his friends -- you're upstairs in your walk-in closet, trying on the first of three dresses to decide which one to wear for the secret ceremony. All of your possible choices are different shades of white and not super formal; no need for formality since the ceremony is taking place just down the hall in Joe's office with a county court judge leading y'all through bare minimum vows.

When you shimmy into dress number three, you know its the one -- a fitted, creamy-white halter dress that hits a few inches above your knees and shows a hint of cleavage and more than a hint of bare shoulders and back. You smile at your reflection in the full-length mirror as you step into a pair of nude stilettos. "Perfect," you whisper, stepping out of the shoes and hanging the dress back up before pulling on one of Joe's old-ass graphic tees.

You head downstairs to pour a glass of wine, peeking in Joe's office on your way back to the master bedroom. He's talking mad shit while pounding on his video game controller. He loves those guys like brothers, you think to yourself. Lots of folks seem amazed that he's still super close with his high school and college friends, but that's just who he is. Fame and fortune have made him more guarded and private, but on a fundamental level, he's still the same exact guy he always was.

"A damn good guy," you whisper under your breath, watching him for another minute before heading down the hallway to the bedroom. You crawl into bed and get comfortable, opening your laptop to prepare to video chat with your bestie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuesday, 10/17/23

The next morning -- after a good night's sleep and a leisurely breakfast together -- y'all go your separate ways to prepare for the day. Joe takes the clothes he's wearing for the ceremony and his toiletries downstairs to a guest bathroom, insisting on not seeing you in your dress before the ceremony.

You smile as you think back to your conversation at breakfast.

~ ~

"Just get ready except for putting on your dress, okay?" he asked, biting into a piece of fried ham. "Then holler at me 'cause I have some jewelry I want to give you."

"So I shouldn't be wearing any jewelry?"

"Just your engagement ring."

~ ~

You take a deep breath as your mind snaps back to the present; you stare at your nude reflection in the bathroom mirror, satisfied that your usual routine of washing, conditioning, shaving, exfoliating, moisturizing, etc. has left you supple and sweet smelling. A fresh coochie wax and mani/pedi round out the grooming basics you regularly subject yourself to.

"Must be nice to be a man," you chuckle to yourself, thinking back again on your breakfast convo when Joe asked you if he should shave his scruff for the ceremony.

~ ~

"No!" you protested, both of you laughing at your aggressive tone as you continued. "I want to enjoy some honeymoon scruff action."

"Can't argue with that," he purred, giving you a filthy wink.

~ ~

"Can't wait for that," you whisper, smiling at your reflection as you slip into a creamy-white silk shorty robe.

Forty minutes later -- after applying some makeup and styling your hair in a simple french twist -- you open the bathroom door to holler for Joe, a big grin gracing your face when you find him sitting on the bed waiting for you. "Hope you haven't been waiting long," you state, beckoning him into the bathroom.

"Nope," he blurts, looking more than a little nervous as he hops up and walks toward you. "It didn't take me very long to set up the cameras in my office, and I'm too nervous to concentrate on anything else." He gives you a smile that more closely resembles a grimace. "This is not what I'm wearing, by the way," he continues, gesturing at his t-shirt and sweatpants. "I'm just waiting until the last minute to get dressed so I don't end up looking like a wrinkled mess."

"I know what you're wearing," you chuckle, pulling him into a hug, careful not to crush the black velvet box he's holding. "I helped pick it out, remember?"

"Oh yeah," he chuckles along with you, leaning into the hug for several heartbeats before stepping back.

"I'm nervous, too," you soothe, studying his face to try and read his mood. "Are you getting cold feet?"

"What? God no!" he scoffs. "My feet have never been hotter!" You giggle at his dramatic delivery as he continues. "Seriously … I want this more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life."

You raise an eyebrow. "More than a Super Bowl win?"

"I said what I said," he states. "More than anything including a Super Bowl win."

"Damn, you're down bad," you tease.

"You just now figuring that out?"

"No, sir. The good news is I'm down just as bad."

"No way," he grins. "I'm def down badder." You playfully roll your eyes as he lifts a hand to touch one of the tendrils of hair framing your face. "You look beautiful," he whispers.

"Thank you. So do you."

He gives you a skeptical look before taking a deep breath. "Let me compose myself for a sec." He takes another deep breath before continuing. "So … since we're waiting until our official ceremony to exchange wedding rings, I wanted to get you something to commemorate today." He holds the black velvet box out to you. "I hope you like it."

You take the box from him and open it, your breath catching at the matching necklace and earrings, dazzling diamond solitaires the same cut as your engagement ring. "Oh my gosh, Joe," you whisper, your gaze shifting between the lavish jewelry and his beautiful smiling face. "They're exquisite," you sigh, blinking back happy tears. "Thank you so much, babe, I love them." You rise up on your tiptoes and press a kiss against his lips. "Help me put the necklace on," you ask excitedly.

"Check that little pocket under the lid first," he orders.

You tilt the box a bit so you can see what he's talking about. "What's in here?" you ask, reaching into the pocket that you didn't even notice while ogling the jewelry. "A mini magnifying glass," you murmur as you pull it out, giving Joe a quizzical look. "What's this for?" you giggle, holding it up to one eye while grinning. "I certainly don't need it to see these gorgeous diamonds."

He returns your smile before pointing at the necklace. "See that tiny tag just beside the clasp?"

"Yeah."

"There's something engraved on there that you can only see with a magnifying glass."

"Really?" your smile gets even bigger as you lean in and read the inscription; it's each of your initials -- with your last initial changed to 'B' -- plus today's date. "Oh my gosh, I love it!" you enthuse. "It's romantic, sentimental and also super shiesty."

"Exactly," he chuckles, taking the box and magnifying glass from you and setting them on the marble countertop. "Let's see how it looks on you," he states, gently lifting the necklace from its velvet nest before stepping behind you; you watch in the mirror as he drapes it on your neck and quickly secures it, pressing a kiss against the tiny tag nestled against the nape of your neck.

"It's gorgeous," you whisper as you look at it in the mirror.

"You're gorgeous," he states, dropping another lingering kiss on your neck.

"I've got something for you, too," you murmur, pulling a drawer on your vanity open to grab a small black velvet bag you stashed there earlier; you hand it to him with a sheepish smile. "Not as expensive as what you got me, but I hope you like it."

He loosens the drawstring and pulls out a narrow black wristband, tilting it to read the inscription stamped in white on the inside; it's the exact same as the one he chose for your necklace -- both of your initials plus the date. "I love that we're always on the same wavelength," he states, the look in his eyes causing a sizzle of heat to race down your spine as he slides the band onto a wrist, moving it around until it nestles right where he wants it among his other bands. "I love it, and I love you," he continues, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips.

"I love you, too," you whisper. "I can't believe I'm about to be your wife."

"Are you happy?" he asks. "Because I'm ridiculously happy, and I hope you are too."

"I'm so happy I can hardly stand it," you smile, framing his face with your hands, his scruff soft against your skin as you pull him down for another kiss; he leans into it for several heartbeats before reluctantly pulling back.

"I better go," he sighs before heading for the door. "Don't forget your earrings," he reminds you, giving you one last look before disappearing.

Thirty minutes later you're standing in Joe's office, waiting anxiously for the ceremony to begin. You eventually hear the doorbell ring and take a deep, calming breath as you hear voices and footsteps headed up the stairs.

The judge -- a woman in her mid-fifties with a tidy bob haircut and a friendly smile -- breezes into the office just ahead of Joe, holding a hand out when she sees you.

"You must be Y/n," she says. "I'm Judge Sheila."

"Nice to meet you," you state, shaking her hand.

"You too." She drops her briefcase on Joe's desk. "You kids are pulling a fast one on everybody, huh?" she asks, her eyes twinkling as she looks back and forth between you.

"Yes, ma'am," you laugh. "Our actual wedding will happen this off-season."

"Well, your secret is safe with me," she promises, opening her briefcase and pulling out a piece of paper. "I need y'all to sign this marriage license, and I'll act as a witness."

You feel the heat of Joe's gaze on you as he takes in your fitted halter dress and nude stiletto heels; his eyes linger on the substantial diamond studs twinkling in your earlobes and the solitaire necklace sitting pretty just above a tasteful hint of cleavage. "You look amazing," he whispers as he brushes by you and walks to his desk.

"You too," you murmur, your gaze raking over his tall frame adorned in charcoal gray dress slacks and a fitted blue-gray button-down dress shirt, the color making his eyes shift like a chameleon depending on how the light hits him.

You watch as he pulls a matte platinum pen that you've never seen before out of the top desk drawer and hands it to you; you inhale subtle deep breaths to calm your nerves as you sign the legal document, taking a second to inspect the pen after signing your name, noticing it has the same inscription as your necklace and his wristband engraved on it. You give Joe a look as he takes the pen from you and leans down to sign his name. Romantic and sentimental, you muse to yourself.

"Where should I stand?" Judge Sheila asks, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of her black jacket. "I know y'all are videoing so just tell me where you want me."

"Why don't you stand behind the desk and we'll stand in front of it," Joe directs. "We have three cameras recording," he continues, pointing at a couple of bookcases and a trophy shelf where the cameras are located.

"Got all the angles covered," she states with approval as she positions herself behind the desk; she waits for you and Joe to take your places before getting down to business.

"Joe and Y/n, as I guide you in exchanging your vows today, you will each declare your intentions for a lasting partnership in love and marriage. Are you prepared to do this?"

"Yes!" you answer simultaneously, giggling a bit and exchanging smiles before returning your attention to the judge.

She smiles at your beaming faces before speaking again. "Turn and face one another and join hands."

She waits a few seconds for y'all to do her bidding before proceeding.

"Joe, do you take Y/n to be your wife, to live together in matrimony from this day forward, to love her, honor her, comfort her, cherish her, and keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Joe squeezes your hands gently and blinks several times to hold back tears as the judge speaks up again.

"Y/n, do you take Joe to be your husband, to live together in matrimony from this day forward, to love him, honor him, comfort him, cherish him, and keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," you answer, chill bumps running the length of your arms at the look on Joe's face. I'll never forget that look, you think to yourself as the judge continues.

"By the authority granted to me by the State of Ohio, it is my privilege to pronounce you husband and wife. Joe, you may kiss your bride."

He leans down and captures your lips, placing his hands on your waist for a few seconds before slowly sliding one hand upward, resting it on your bare back for several heartbeats before continuing up to cup the nape of your neck; you grip his shoulders and lean into him as he changes the angle of his head slightly to deepen the kiss, his thumb caressing your neck as his tongue tangles with yours.

After what seems like too long and not nearly long enough, he breaks the intense kiss and rests his forehead against yours as y'all try to regain composure.

"Hooo-wee! That kiss was a doozy!" the judge chortles.

"Sorry, your honor," Joe mumbles, making a sheepish face. "I got a little carried away."

"No need to apologize," she grins. "Your emotions are red-lining I would imagine."

"Pretty much, yeah," he admits, squeezing your hand and smiling at you as the judge whisks the signed marriage license into her briefcase.

"Allow me to be the first person to congratulate you on your marriage," she states. "I know y'all are videoing, but would you like me to take a few pics of you before I leave?"

"Thank you, that would be great," you answer, grabbing your phone and handing it to her while you pose with Joe. She snaps several pics, suggesting a few different poses and smiling after each shot.

"I think I missed my calling," she jokes as she hands your phone back. "If this whole judge thing craps out, I just might become a wedding photographer."

You laugh along with her as she grabs her briefcase and heads for the door. "I'll leave you two alone so y'all can deal with those big emotions." She gives you a cheeky wink and exits the room with the same brisk stride she entered with, Joe right behind her as he sees her out.

You take a couple of deep breaths and roll your shoulders to relieve some tension, smiling at Joe when he returns a few minutes later; he heads straight for you, wrapping you in a tight hug. "Mrs. Burrow, have I ever told you you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?" he whispers against your ear.

"Several times, but I never get tired of hearing it." You lean back and frame his face with your hands. "And you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"Don't lie," he snorts, his expression letting you know he's kidding but also looking for a little validation.

"I'm not lying!" you argue playfully. "Hook me up to a lie detector and I'll prove it!"

"Okay, I got one right here," he teases, reaching for his zipper as you both bust out laughing.

Once you finally compose yourselves, he speaks up. "Were you nervous as hell? 'Cause I was so nervous and giddy I thought I was gonna pass out for a sec."

"Me too," you agree. "I literally couldn't feel my face during the vows."

"Now imagine saying our personalized vows in front of a huge crowd of people."

You laugh at his grimace. "We have several more months before we have to worry about that." You walk behind the desk and open the top drawer, pulling the engraved pen out. "Romantic and sentimental," you tease, wagging it at him.

"Don't forget horny," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. "Speaking of that," he continues, walking up behind you and pressing his crotch against your butt; he places his hands on the desk on either side of you, trapping you in his embrace. "I need you to do something for me, okay?" he purrs, the husky tone of his voice causing your core to react.

"Okay," you whisper. "What do you need?"

He drops a kiss on the nape of your neck before nestling his mouth against your ear. "See … I have this whole romantic, sentimental night planned for us at the lakehouse -- something I've been planning for a long time -- but I have a dilemma."

"What's the dilemma?" you ask, your breath catching in your throat when he grinds his erection against you.

"That's the dilemma," he groans. "I need you to tell me it's a bad idea to bend you over this desk and fuck you senseless."

"Wh … why is it a bad idea?" you stammer.

"Because I want to make love to you for the first time as husband and wife in that big bed under that huge skylight."

"That will be amazing and very romantic."

"Yeah, I've been fantasizing about it forever," he admits. "But I also want to shove this pretty little dress up to your waist, slide your panties off and bury my tongue inside you right fucking now."

You whimper at the mental image as a gush of liquid heat floods your core.

"I need you to talk me down," he urges, sinking his teeth in your shoulder hard enough to sting then licking gently to soothe it.

"I … what? … Shit, I can't think straight." You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts. He's been planning this romantic wedding night for ages, you think to yourself. He even made a secret trip to move that bed and bought, washed and packed a set of damn sheets, so you need to push your horniness aside and make the right choice here. "Okay, listen," you state, taking another deep breath before continuing. "I would love for you to bend me over this desk right now, but we've done that several times before and will do that several times in the future, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You pivot in his embrace until you're facing him. "But we only get one chance to do the romantic thing you've been planning for ages -- which sounds freaking amazing -- so I think we should simmer down, take a cold shower and go do the damn thing."

He takes in your smile and swallows hard, heaving a deep sigh before returning your smile. "That's definitely the right choice," he agrees.

"Plus we can always recreate this exact scene when we get back from the lake." His eyebrows creep upward as you continue. "I'll put on this same outfit, same hair and makeup, and you can do the same minus the makeup."

"See, I knew you'd come up with the perfect solution," he states. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because most of your blood supply is in the wrong head right now to be doing deep thinking," you giggle.

"For real. I'm seriously taking a cold shower," he grumps.

"Me too, but def not together."

"Are you gonna rub one out?"

"No, I'll wait. What about you?"

"I'll wait. But I might bust in like thirty seconds when we finally get down to it."

"We've got all night, so that won't be a problem," you soothe.

"We've got the rest of our lives," he states with a wink.

"You're getting more romantic by the minute," you gush, "and I absolutely love it." You press a quick kiss on his lips before heading for the door. "Let's hurry up and get showered and changed; I'm ready to get started on that whole 'rest of our lives' thing."

You're halfway out the door when a thought hits you. "Oops!" you chirp, spinning back around and giving Joe a grin. "I guess we got all of that on video," you whisper, laughing when his eyes go wide. "You can just edit it out, right?" you ask.

"I'll edit it if we ever decide to show anybody, but I'll def keep the uncut vids for us," he grins, heading to turn off the cameras while you head to take a quick shower and change clothes.

~ ~ ~

About halfway into your drive to the lake, another thought hits you. "Oh my God, I just remembered something. When you called the judge 'your honor' after our kiss, "WAP" immediately started playing in my filthy mind." You clear your throat dramatically before launching into a few lyrics. "Your honor, I'm a freak bitch, handcuffs, leashes …"

Joe chuckles along with you as your voice trails off. "It's only fitting since we're gonna reenact that song for the next several days," he teases. "At least the wet ass pussy part," he clarifies.

"No handcuffs and leashes?" you faux grumble.

"I forgot to pack 'em," he plays along, sliding his sunglasses down his nose a few inches before turning his head to give you a look over the top of the frames. "But we can improvise," he purrs. "You know I'm down for whatever."

"Better keep your eyes on the road, horndog," you giggle, a thrill running through you when he returns his attention to the road while squeezing your thigh. "Anyway," you continue. "I'm gonna cue up something for us to sing together. What sounds good?"

"How 'bout some Kid Cudi?"

"You got it," you agree, cranking the volume as the first notes sound, smiling as your combined voices -- out of tune but full of joy -- mingle as y'all cruise down the highway toward your destination.

~ ~ ~

A few hours later, y'all finally pull into the long, winding driveway of the lakehouse, each of you still singing the praises of the food you just ate at the Lake Lodge restaurant.

"That trout was delicious, and they have like ten other things on the menu I wanna try," Joe gushes. "Can't wait to go back."

"Everything was delicious," you agree, smiling at him as he parks the car in front of the tall, modern, perfectly awesome house.

"I'll pull into the garage later," he states, hopping out and grabbing a small cooler and tote bag from the back seat. "Right now we need to hurry to the back deck to catch the sunset."

You follow him up a winding path to the side of the house, watching as he inputs a security code into a gate before ushering you through it into a vast backyard. You walk up some stairs to a large elevated deck, admiring the expansive lawn that gives way to a beautiful, open water lake view. "It's just stunning," you breathe, "and so private. There are no other houses really close which is awesome." You turn to look at the house, your eyes going wide as you take in the outdoor furniture. "Wasn't there different outdoor furniture in the Airbnb pics?" you ask, checking out a loveseat that's situated in front of a coffee table with a built-in fire pit, both items looking brand new and more than a little familiar.

"Yeah," Joe shrugs as he sets the cooler and tote bag down on the coffee table. "The homeowner, Mr. Thompson, said he'd be replacing the old stuff since it was kind of beat."

"It didn't look beat in the pics," you murmur, raising an eyebrow as you turn your head to check out the dining table with six chairs. "Isn't this the same outdoor furniture we have at home?"

"Yep, Mr. Thompson asked me for a recommendation," Joe explains. "Him and his wife recently retired and are living in Florida full time now, and they didn't want to spend a lot of time trying to pick something out." He gives you a smile as he continues. "It looks good out here, don't you think?"

"It looks great," you agree, returning his smile. "You have impeccable taste."

He laughs at your cheeky tone. "You have the impeccable taste since you picked it all out to begin with. I just did a copy and paste."

"You wanna light the fire pit?" you ask.

"Let's do that tomorrow, okay? I wanna do the sunset champagne toast then I have a surprise to show you inside."

You turn and look at the house again, noticing that all of the blinds are drawn on the row of large windows overlooking the deck. "A surprise, huh?" you muse, your mind spinning at the possibilities until it settles on one. "Joseph Lee, there better not be a bunch of people in there waiting to yell 'surprise' at me."

He laughs as he pulls two champagne flutes out of the tote bag and a bottle of champagne out of the cooler; he easily pops the cork, pouring two glasses while shaking his head. "You really think my anti-social ass invited a bunch of folks to our private getaway?"

"I mean … no … but …"

"Nobody's in the house," he assures you, handing you a glass of bubbly before holding his glass up to propose a toast. "To my beautiful wife. I'm so happy I get to do life with you."

You feel your throat tighten with emotion as you clink your glass against his and take a sip of champagne. You give him a smile and hold your glass up. "To my beautiful husband. Thank you for making me the happiest woman on the planet."

He clinks his glass against yours and you both take a sip before he gives you a quizzical look. "Hold up," he mutters. "Happiest woman on which planet?"

"This one," you laugh.

"Okay, just checking." He laughs with you for a bit before continuing. "I mean, if you were talking about Mars or something that kind of changes things."

"We're not on Mars, goober," you grin.

"True," he concedes, turning his head to look at the lake before recapturing your gaze. "This is way better than Mars."

"For sure."

He holds his glass up for another toast. "To making memories here for years to come."

You clink your glass against his and take a sip. "Are we gonna get a standing reservation here?" you ask excitedly, your eyes taking in the multi-colored sunset as it reflects off the lake. "I'd love to come several times a year since it's so close to home. I mean, an hour and a half drive is nothing, and it feels like a totally different world from the city." He gives you an enigmatic smile as you continue. "I know you're busy so I'll be happy to make the reservations."

"This house is no longer on the Airbnb market," he sighs. "It recently sold to a different owner."

"Oh damn," you grumble. "I didn't know it was for sale. Well, I'm not surprised somebody snapped it up because it's amazing. We'll just enjoy it while we can."

He sets his glass on the table and reaches into the tote bag, pulling a file folder out while giving you a wink. "It actually wasn't for sale," he states as he slides some papers out and hands them to you.

"What's this?" you ask, your eyes scanning the formal document.

"A deed," he answers, pointing at a certain line on the page.

You read his name and your name followed by a somewhat familiar address. Then you read it again, a little slower, before locking eyes with him. "You bought this lakehouse?"

"We bought this lakehouse," he grins. "Made 'em an offer they couldn't refuse."

"Are you serious?" you whisper.

"Yep. I know how much you love your parent's lakehouse, and I love it too. We've had some great times there, so I thought it'd be nice to have our own lakehouse we can come to whenever we want."

You smile like a lovesick fool, trying to suppress happy tears as he continues.

"Every pic and vid I've seen of you at your parent's place -- starting when you were about five years old -- you have the biggest smile on your face, kinda like right now." He matches your smile before speaking again. "We can come here as often as you want, and one of these days we'll bring our kids here and create those same amazing memories for them that you have from your childhood."

Your emotions are so big you literally can't speak, happy tears freely rolling down your cheeks. He takes the deed and your glass and sets them on the table, wiping your tears before pulling you close; he leans down and nestles his mouth against your ear as he continues. "I was looking forward to experiencing a lot of firsts here tonight as husband and wife -- first champagne toast, first sunset, first time we make love, but first time I make you cry wasn't on the list."

"They're happy tears," you wheeze against his broad chest. "Sorry, I can't help it."

"I'm teasing," he soothes, leaning back and looking down at you with a look on his face you'll never forget. "I'm just glad you're happy."

"If I was any happier, I'd spontaneously combust." You give an inelegant sniff as you continue. "I mean, it's absolutely amazing to me that such a hardass pro athlete is also romantic as hell. Like seriously romantic. This whole day has been like a dream."

He blushes so hard even his ears turn red. "It's your fault," he mumbles. "There's something about you that makes me act like this."

"I'm not complaining, babe," you giggle, pulling him down for a kiss. "I love it," you breathe against his lips. "Wouldn't change it for anything."

"I'm glad you love it," he mutters, deepening the kiss for a bit before pulling back. "But if you ever tell anybody I'm a raging romantic, I'll deny it to hell and back."

"All of your secrets are safe with me."

"Oh yeah?" he gives you a wicked grin. "What if I have some deep, dark secret that you don't know about yet?"

"Like what?"

He furrows his brow as he thinks about the question. "Like … what if I told you I'm a serial killer?"

You don't miss a beat. "Well, good thing we're married because we have spousal immunity. I can't be forced to testify against you."

He snort-laughs before taking in your serious demeanor. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah."

"If you knew I was a serial killer, you wouldn't testify against me?"

You shrug. "I mean, if you got arrested I assume they'd have enough evidence to put you away without any testimony from me. We've watched enough Forensic Files to know you can't get away with shit these days."

"Would you visit me in prison?" he asks, giving you a naughty grin. "Maybe give me some conjugal visits?"

"Yeah." You grin back at him, getting into the idea. "I mean you do look amazing in orange."

He throws his head back, his laughter loud in the stillness of the gathering dusk. "Thank you. Now I have a new idea for role-playing," he teases.

"Prison guard and the hot inmate?"

"I was thinking a hot psychologist trying to understand what makes a serial killer tick." His expression goes from playful to suggestive as he gives you a slow once-over before continuing. "You can wear that black pinstripe suit -- the one with the pencil skirt -- and some fuck-me pumps."

"Because of course a woman with a PhD in forensic psychology would wear fuck-me pumps to interview a serial killer."

"Of course," he grins "and definitely no panties."

"You've been watching too much porn," you giggle.

"I don't need porn when I have a smoking hot wife and a dirty mind."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you tease, a thrill running through you at the way "wife" easily rolled off his tongue. "Where can we get you an orange jumpsuit?"

He shrugs. "I can wear an orange sweatshirt and sweatpants."

"And no panties."

"Definitely no panties," he laughs. "Do you still have those fake glasses from when you dressed up as a naughty librarian for Halloween?" he asks. "Those would be hot with that outfit."

"Oh my God, I forgot about the naughty librarian outfit," you whisper, your mind flashing back to that Halloween party several years ago.

~ ~ ~

Y'all had only been dating for a few months, and it was your first Halloween together. You didn't intend to go to any parties but got a last minute invite from one of his LSU teammates who lived in the same apartment complex. Y'all had quickly half-assed a couple of costumes -- naughty librarian and the stuffy, know-it-all physics professor.

Most of the other girls at the party had been half naked, but the 'naughtiness' in your costume had been implied -- tight sweater that hugged your curves tucked into a long plaid skirt with black tights and sensible heels. Your hair was up in a tidy bun and your plump lips featured a dark berry lip stain that Joe couldn't keep his eyes off of. The fake eyeglasses really set the whole look off, and it wasn't until y'all were a few drinks in -- making out in a dark hallway -- that Joe realized your tights were actually thigh-highs and your panties -- way up underneath that long skirt -- were crotchless (a gag gift from your bestie). The look on Joe's face when he hit paydirt still resonates in your mind.

"Oh my God," he groaned. "Are these …"

"Crotchless panties?" you giggled at the look on his face. "Yeah."

"Let's go," he ordered, pulling his hand out from under your skirt and quickly leading you toward the door.

The sex that night had been next-level raunchy. You ended up in nothing but the thigh-highs and crotchless panties, straddling him as he lay naked on his back on the bed; he kissed you breathless before wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you forward until you were basically doing the splits on his face. It was the first time you sat on his face, and you were just tipsy enough from the punch you drank at the party to not be self-conscious about it. He gripped your plump ass with his big hands, holding you in place as he thrust his tongue inside you in a relentless rhythm, occasionally latching onto your clit and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure to make you claw at the headboard before sliding his tongue back down to your core literally a split second before triggering your climax. He did this over and over until you were a quivering, begging mess by the time he finally finished you, your cries of pleasure still echoing in the bedroom when he flipped you on your stomach and entered you from behind, riding you hard as you did your best to fuck back against him on your shaky legs.

~ ~ ~

"Damn," His deep voice pulls you out of memory lane. "That was so fucking hot. We def need to revisit that outfit on you one of these days."

"We'll see," you grin, a delicious thrill running through you knowing you've packed a slightly different version of that outfit -- crotchless panties, thigh-highs and a lace-front underbust corset that serves your bare breasts up on a platter. You hadn't even been thinking about the naughty librarian get-up when you packed that lingerie ensemble, but you'd def been thinking about the hot sex y'all had that night once he got you alone. A quick thought pops in your head. "Do you wanna revisit the entire naughty librarian outfit, or just the thigh-highs and crotchless panties?"

"I mean, I love you in whatever you wear," he rushes to say, his cheeks turning pink like he got caught thinking something extra naughty.

"I know," you reassure him, leaning forward to give him a kiss. "So just the thigh-highs and crotchless panties, right?" you tease.

"Yeah," he grins. "If that's okay."

"I think I can make that happen sometime in the future." He never pressures you to wear lingerie, which is one of the reasons you love wearing it for him. "Let's go inside," you continue. "It's getting a little chilly out here."

"Hold on, let's get a quick pic with the sunset first." He digs his phone out of his pocket and positions himself with his back to the lake, waiting for you to snuggle against him before snapping a pic; y'all both check the pic out, smiling at each other at how great it turned out.

"We look really good together, don't we?" he asks, still admiring the pic. "Really, really good," you agree, turning your attention back to the pic as he holds his phone closer to you -- you're wearing black leggings, black leather knee boots and a fitted teal wrap sweater that barely covers your booty. He's wearing black jeans, black and white sneakers, and a gray thermal henley. Both of you are wearing big smiles as the sunset creates a halo around you.

"That pic is epic," he mutters, "like hang it in the Louvre, epic." He eventually shoves his phone back in his pocket before waving a hand at the stuff on the table. "I'll come back for this stuff in a bit, but first I wanna carry you over the threshold." He picks you up bridal style and carries you toward the door, easily holding you while punching in the security code.

"You ready for this, Mrs. Burrow?" he asks.

"I'm so ready," you answer, your heart full of everything you ever hoped for as he opens the door and carries you inside.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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