#martini!reader

[cherryfyre]

5 Ways Sarah Cameron Used Rafe To Change Your Mind

For the ladies in the back !! @lovinqbella 🥂🥂

1. Convincing You to Attend a Party

You stood in Sarah’s room, arms crossed, shaking your head. “No way. I’m not going to that party. It’s just going to be a mess of drunk people and bad music.”

Sarah groaned, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “You’re impossible. It’s one party, and everyone’s going to be there.”

“Exactly my point,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced at her phone and suddenly smirked. “Fine, don’t go. But you know who is going?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly, but the way she raised her brows in response made your stomach twist.

“Rafe’s going,” she said, casually scrolling. “And honestly, he doesn’t go to these things that often anymore. Kinda weird, actually.”

You hesitated, looking out her window like you could avoid the conversation altogether. “That’s… irrelevant.”

Sarah grinned. “Is it? Because last time I checked, you two had been getting along pretty well. I’m just saying, he asked if you were coming.”

Before you could respond, her bedroom door creaked open. Rafe leaned against the frame, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “You coming or not?”

His blue eyes locked on yours, unreadable, though there was a flicker of something—expectation, maybe—that made your heart skip.

“I haven’t decided,” you said, standing straighter.

Rafe smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like a yes to me. I’ll see you there.” He turned and walked away, leaving you with a stunned expression and Sarah grinning like she’d won.

2. Persuading You to Go on a Group Hike

“Nope. Not happening,” you said, firmly tying your sneaker and standing up.

Sarah frowned. “Why not? It’ll be fun! Fresh air, great views, all that stuff.”

You gave her a pointed look. “It’s a hike. You know I don’t do bugs, dirt, or sweating unless absolutely necessary.”

Sarah sighed, tapping her phone against her palm thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell Rafe you bailed.”

You blinked. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, he’s coming. Said he wanted to get out of the house. Weird, right? Anyway, he’s probably going to make fun of you for being scared of a little exercise, but I’ll tell him you had a good excuse.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not scared. I just don’t see the point.”

Sarah smirked. “Sure. Tell that to him when he asks where you are.”

An hour later, you were trailing behind the group, muttering under your breath about Sarah’s manipulation. Rafe slowed his pace until he was walking beside you, his tanned arm brushing yours.

“Not so bad, right?” he asked, glancing at you with a slight grin.

You huffed. “I wouldn’t call this fun.”

“Guess you just need better company,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.

You shot him a look, but the warmth of his smile made the dirt path seem a little less annoying.

3. Convincing You to Go Paddleboarding

“No, Sarah. I’m not getting on a paddleboard,” you said firmly, eyeing the glistening water of the cove.

Sarah grinned mischievously. “You say that like you’ve tried it before.”

“Because I don’t have to try it to know I’ll fall flat on my face,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Not if someone’s there to help you balance,” she said casually, glancing behind you. Before you could ask what she meant, a low voice interrupted.

“Scared of water or just bad at sports?”

You turned to see Rafe leaning against the dock post, his hair tousled from the wind and a smirk tugging at his lips. He was shirtless, his tan skin catching the sun, and you suddenly found it difficult to form a response.

“I’m not scared,” you muttered, though your pulse betrayed you.

“Good,” Rafe said, stepping closer. “Because I’m not about to let you drown. Come on, I’ll even hold the board steady for you.”

Sarah nudged you with her elbow. “See? Easy solution.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were wobbling on the board, Rafe’s hands steady on your ankles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and calm. “You’re overthinking it.”

His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you forgot all about the water beneath you.

4. Persuading You to Go for a Late-Night Drive

“I’m not getting in a car with Rafe,” you said, glaring at Sarah.

“Why not? It’s just a drive,” she replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“You mean with your brother who drives like a maniac?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad. Plus, he said he’s going to the lookout, and you love it there.”

You hesitated. The lookout was your favorite spot, but…

Before you could argue further, headlights illuminated the driveway, and Rafe’s truck pulled up. He leaned out the window, his arm resting casually on the doorframe. “You coming or what?”

You glanced at Sarah, who gave you a knowing look, and reluctantly got in.

The drive was surprisingly quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space. When you reached the lookout, the stars seemed impossibly bright.

“You always this stubborn?” Rafe asked, leaning back against the hood of the truck.

“Only when I have a reason to be,” you shot back, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

“Noted,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

5. Persuading You to Help Fix the Dock

“You’re kidding, right?” you said, staring at the pile of wooden planks and tools. “I don’t know the first thing about fixing a dock.”

Sarah shrugged. “Neither do I, but Rafe does. And he said he could use an extra set of hands.”

“Why don’t you help him then?” you shot back.

“I have other plans,” she said, already backing away. “But you? You’d be perfect for the job.”

Before you could argue, Rafe appeared, carrying a toolbox. He glanced between you and Sarah, his expression unreadable. “You staying to help?”

You sighed. “Apparently.”

He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to get your hands dirty.”

“I’m full of surprises,” you replied, grabbing a hammer.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself laughing more than you expected. Rafe’s sleeves were rolled up, sawdust clinging to his skin, and the way he occasionally glanced at you—like he was trying to figure you out—left you feeling strangely flustered.

When the dock was finally finished, he leaned against a post, watching the sunset. “Not bad for a rookie,” he said, his tone teasing but soft.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made it hard to argue.

[yuwuta]

yuuta seems like he’s very horny but also extremely sleepy and in denial about said sleepiness when he’s drunk. he’s curled up into you on the couch, eyes half-lidded, words muffled because his lips are literally pressed against your collar, and you know he could pass out at any minute, but still, he insists, “baaaaaaby, i wan—wanna… i’m gonna be s’good to you when we get homeeee.” he can barely lift his head up to look at you, and when he does you know the blush on his cheeks isn’t just from the alcohol, that lust pooling in his eyes is real, but you can’t help but be caught in just how endearing his slow, heavy blinking is. 

yuuta is tired. you’re pretty sure that you’re gonna need maki or yuuji’s help getting him into a cab later, he’s already deadweight against you; but in yuuta’s hazy, drunk mind, all he can see is a halo above your head, all he can think about how much he loves you, how he always wants to be with you, how he wants to take care of you. “‘m gonna make you feel soooooo good,” he promises with a fuzzy smile, his head immediately dropping to your neck again, nose nuzzling against your skin where he presses a few sloppy kisses, “sooo good. promise. because i love you.” 

and even though drunk yuuta never quite gets to make good on his promises, he always makes it up to you to the morning after, showering you in kisses and mindlessly rolling his fingers over your nipples because, “aren’t you such an angel, took care of me all night,” he drawls, licking down the center of your stomach, “let me be good to you like i promised.” 

[awearywritersworld]

mdni

thinking about gojo satoru, who loves seeing you in his boxer briefs, especially when you pull them from the dirty laundry because you need something to slip on real quick.

he loves the way they cling to your thighs.

he loves the way the band accentuates your pretty waist.

he loves the way they ride up and expose the crease of your ass to his hungry eyes.

it's really quite the predicament for him— does he want you to keep them on? or does he want to peel them off and reveal what's underneath?

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 || 𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗

in which you stopped looking back

You graduated early.

Not because you were trying to prove anything. Just… because staying felt like suffocating.

UConn had too many ghosts. Too many empty chairs. Too many late nights walking past the gym where you knew she’d be—except you never went in. Not once. Not after.

So you finished your degree, packed your car, and drove across the country with everything you owned crammed in the backseat and a playlist long enough to drown your thoughts.

San Francisco felt far enough.

It was the job that sealed it—a communications role with a tech startup that liked your clean resume and liked your voice even more. You took the offer before you could talk yourself out of it.

You didn’t tell anyone where you went. Not even mutual friends. It was easier that way.

Clean slate. New sky. Different ocean.

You don’t expect to meet her at a dog park.

But grief’s funny like that.

You’re sitting on a bench with a notebook open on your lap, the kind you still carry even though your job’s mostly Slack messages and decks now. You’re jotting down lines that don’t go anywhere, half-poems you’ll never finish.

You don’t notice the tennis ball roll up to your foot until there’s a low woof.

You glance up.

Golden retriever. Panting. Tail wagging. Big brown eyes staring at you like you hold the answer to all of life’s questions.

And then you hear the voice.

“Sorry about that—he thinks everyone wants to play with him.”

You look up again.

She’s tall. Athletic build. Blonde hair pulled back in a braid. Black Valkyries hoodie, sleeves rolled. Her smile is wide and warm, the kind that’s easy to get used to if you’re not careful.

You hold up the tennis ball. “He’s not wrong.”

She grins. “You new around here?”

You nod. “Just moved.”

“Welcome to the best coast,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Kate.”

You hesitate for half a second, then take it.

Her grip is solid. Steady.

“Nice to meet you,” you say. “I’m… still getting used to the time difference.”

“You’ll adjust. And if not, the coffee’s better here anyway.”

That makes you laugh—quiet, but genuine. A flicker of something you haven’t felt in a while.

Kate watches you for a beat too long.

Her dog trots over, tail still wagging.

“He’s not subtle,” you say.

“Neither am I,” Kate replies with a wink. “You live around here?”

“Couple blocks that way.”

She nods. “Me too. Small world.”

You don’t know what makes you say it, but you do, “What do you do?”

Kate shrugs like she’s used to people not recognizing her. “Basketball.”

You tilt your head. “College?”

“WNBA.”

Your eyebrows raise.

“Golden State Valkyries,” she says. “Just moved here with the expansion. Number twenty.”

“Oh.” You blink. “You’re that Kate Martin.”

She laughs. “Depends. Which Kate Martin were you thinking of?”

You smirk. “The one whose buzzer-beater made my cousin cry in March.”

Kate grins. “Guilty.”

You glance down at the notebook in your lap. The half-written sentence. The empty line that follows.

“Well,” Kate says, throwing the ball again, “if you ever want a tour of the city, I give a decent one. And I know the best burrito spot in the entire Bay Area.”

You hesitate.

She sees it.

Something flickers behind her smile—something kind. Patient. Like she’s not going to push.

“No pressure,” she says. “Maybe I’ll just see you here again.”

You nod. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You do see her again.

Three days later.

Same park. Different bench. This time, you’re sipping coffee and pretending not to wait for her.

She sees you first.

“Told you,” she says, dropping onto the bench beside you, “best coast.”

You glance sideways. “Still undecided.”

Kate bumps her knee against yours. “I’m working on it.”

You don’t tell her about Azzi at first.

It takes months.

Of dog park conversations. Shared coffees. Quiet walks where neither of you says anything because the air already feels full enough.

She texts you sometimes—mostly memes, weird food pictures, photos of her dog wearing sunglasses.

You laugh more than you used to.

Smile more freely.

Grief, for the first time, starts to feel like something soft around the edges.

The night you tell her is cold.

You’re sitting on her couch after a win, both of you still buzzing from the energy. She’s sprawled across the cushions with a hoodie half-zipped, feet in your lap. You’re nursing a ginger ale and trying to ignore the way her laugh makes your chest ache.

And then she asks, softly, “Who was she?”

You blink. “What?”

Kate’s eyes stay on yours. “The one who still lives in the way you look at sunsets. And coffee. And dog parks.”

You stare at her for a moment. “Her name’s Azzi.”

Kate nods. Doesn’t speak. Just waits.

You tell her about the mornings. The silence. The way it ended before it ended.

You don’t cry. Not this time.

When you finish, Kate doesn’t say anything profound.

She just shifts closer and takes your hand.

And you realize you’re not waiting anymore.

You’re healing.

It doesn’t happen all at once. Nothing worth keeping ever does.

It happens the way sunlight finds the edges of your window before you’re ready to wake. The way laughter creeps into your chest when you least expect it. The way Kate doesn’t ask for pieces of you—you just start giving them.

You think the shift starts the night she asks if she can stay.

“You look exhausted,” you tell her as she kicks her shoes off in your entryway.

Kate sighs dramatically. “We had film, weights, and media today. One more question about how it feels to be an underdog and I might retire.”

You chuckle. “It’s week two of the season.”

“Exactly. Premature burnout is real.”

You raise an eyebrow as she flops onto your couch like she owns it.

“You want dinner or sympathy?”

“Both,” she mumbles into a pillow.

You order Thai food.

She helps you clean up even though she didn’t lift a finger to cook, and afterward, you both end up sitting on the floor with your backs against the couch, legs stretched out in front of you, her shoulder brushing yours like it's always meant to be there.

Somewhere between the second can of La Croix and you gently wiping curry sauce off her chin, she yawns.

And you say it—quiet, instinctive, “You can stay, if you want.”

Kate’s eyes flick up to yours. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She sleeps in your bed that night.

Fully clothed. A soft snore. The dog curls up at her feet like he already knows.

You lie awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, counting breaths. It’s not romantic. It’s not even new. But it feels like something coming home.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

A rhythm.

She stays sometimes. Not always. Just when the air feels heavier and neither of you wants to say goodbye at the door. There’s no sex. No confessions. Just shared toothpaste, mismatched socks, and the way she knows how to fill the silence without crowding it.

She never kisses you.

Not until you’re ready.

It’s raining when it finally happens.

You’re both sitting on the balcony of your apartment, knees pulled up, mugs in hand. The city lights blink soft in the fog. There’s music playing faintly from inside—something mellow and wordless, like a thought that hasn’t formed yet.

Kate’s eyes are on the sky.

“Did you ever think it’d be like this?” she asks.

You glance over. “What?”

“Growing up. Getting older. The parts they don’t prepare you for.”

You think about it.

“No,” you admit. “I thought it would be simpler. Happier.”

Kate hums. “Me too.”

You sip your tea. “Are you happy now?”

She looks at you for a long moment. Then sets her mug down.

“I’m trying,” she says. “But sometimes it feels like I’m waiting for something I haven’t named yet.”

Your breath catches. “Me too.”

And she kisses you.

It’s soft. Intentional. No fireworks, no dramatic movie score. Just her lips on yours—gentle, reverent, like she’s asking permission and promising not to run.

You don’t pull away.

When it breaks, her forehead rests against yours.

“You okay?” she whispers.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Did that feel okay?”

You meet her eyes.

“It felt like the first thing in a long time that didn’t hurt.”

Afterward, nothing changes all at once.

You don’t suddenly start calling her your girlfriend. You don’t delete old photos or stop dreaming about a life you almost had with someone else. But you do start saying goodnight with a kiss. You start looking forward to grocery trips together. You start smiling at the sound of your door unlocking at the end of a long day.

And when you cry—on a Wednesday afternoon for no reason at all—Kate doesn’t ask you to explain. She just holds you, murmuring quiet things into your hair like, “You don’t have to be okay every day,” and, “I’m not going anywhere.”

One night, as you lie curled into her chest, you whisper, “Do you ever feel like we’re building something with pieces that broke off other things?”

Kate runs her fingers through your hair.

“All the time,” she murmurs. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.”

You press your face into her shoulder and breathe her in—clean laundry, mint, and something that already feels like home.

You still think about Azzi sometimes. But it’s not a wound anymore. It’s just a scar.

And tonight, you’re not living in a memory. You’re living in the moment.

With Kate.

It doesn’t happen in a moment. You don’t wake up one day and stop thinking about her. That would be too easy.

Instead, it fades.

A little more every day.

You notice it in the quiet first. The way your thoughts no longer drift toward the “what if.” The way you go a full morning without remembering how Azzi used to take her coffee. The way you catch yourself smiling at nothing in particular — just Kate’s toothbrush next to yours. Her flannel thrown over the back of your desk chair. The way she hums when she cooks eggs.

You stop dreaming about the past because you're finally living something that feels like a future.

It hits you, slowly, that Azzi doesn’t live here anymore.

Not in your apartment.

Not in your chest.

Not in your every thought.

She was your before.

But Kate… Kate is your after.

And you’re starting to realize after doesn’t mean lesser.

It means survived.

It means stayed.

The first game you go to, she doesn’t know you’re there.

Kate had brushed it off during breakfast that morning. “It’s just preseason. Nobody comes to preseason.”

You didn’t argue.

You just bought tickets anyway, because the truth is, watching her play feels like watching the sun crack open a storm.

You sit in the third row behind the bench, hoodie up, coffee in hand, sunglasses hiding your face even though you’re indoors. She doesn't spot you during warmups. Doesn’t even glance into the crowd. She’s too focused. In the zone. Fierce and fluid, her jersey clinging to her shoulders like it was stitched to her skin.

The game is fast-paced. Tight. She plays like she’s been doing this her whole life.

You find yourself yelling — not just cheering, yelling — every time she makes a three.

A guy behind you laughs. “You her sister or something?”

You grin. “Or something.”

When the Valkyries win in overtime and she’s mobbed by teammates, she finally scans the crowd.

You wave once.

She stops.

Mouth open.

Then she smiles — big and bright and real — and blows you a kiss in front of thousands.

“You came.”

That’s the first thing she says when she barrels through your door that night, still in her post-game sweats and ponytail.

“I always will.”

Kate drops her bag, walks right up to you, and wraps her arms around your neck. “I played better because of you.”

“You didn’t even know I was there until the fourth quarter.”

She leans back just enough to look at you. “Didn’t matter. I felt different. Stronger.”

“You hit five threes.”

“And I thought about you after every one.”

You shake your head, blushing. “You’re ridiculous.”

She kisses your cheek. “I’m in love.”

You blink.

She freezes.

And for the first time, she looks scared.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” she says quickly. “Not like some big thing. It just slipped out—”

You press your hand to her chest. “Say it again.”

Kate blinks. “What?”

“Say it again,” you whisper.

She breathes in. “I’m in love with you.”

Your heart catches.

Because for the first time in years, there’s no shadow in your chest. No ghost in your lungs.

Just Kate.

You take her face in your hands.

And say it.

“I’m in love with you too.”

The moving in part isn’t dramatic either.

It’s just… the next step.

It starts with a toothbrush. Then her record player. Then the drawer in your dresser that fills up with her team-issued hoodies and Valkyries gear.

One night, while folding laundry, you hold up her socks and say, “Do you want a key?”

Kate glances over, frozen with a spoonful of peanut butter halfway to her mouth.

“A key?”

“Yeah.” You toss her the socks. “I mean, you practically live here.”

She blinks. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I want you here.”

She sets the spoon down slowly. Walks over. Pulls you in.

“I was scared you’d never say that,” she whispers into your hair.

You look up. “I was scared I’d never feel safe enough to.”

The first night you officially live together, she makes you dinner.

It’s awful. Undercooked pasta. Over-salted sauce.

You eat every bite.

She watches you with wide eyes. “You hate it.”

“I love it,” you lie, chewing bravely. “It’s aggressively seasoned.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I love you.”

She grins. “Okay, that works.”

You do dishes together. She sings off-key. You splash her with water.

Your dog watches from the doorway like he’s never seen you this happy.

Maybe he hasn’t.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” you ask her one night, curled on the couch with her legs over yours, TV on mute.

She turns her head. “Here as in…”

“As in this. Together. Safe. Full.”

Kate studies your face for a long second. “I hoped. But I never expected it. I figured you’d leave a little space in your heart for her forever.”

You go quiet. “I did.”

She nods.

“But not anymore.”

Kate turns. “Really?”

You nod, voice quiet. “I don’t think about her the way I used to. Not with ache. Just… a chapter. One that had to end to make space for this.”

Kate looks like she might cry. You kiss her before she can.

Her lips taste like home.

The smell of eggs wakes you before the light does.

You shuffle into the kitchen wearing her oversized Valkyries hoodie, hair a mess, eyes half-closed.

Kate’s already flipping something in a pan, hair wet from a shower, humming off-key.

She doesn’t turn around.

“You’re up late,” she says, grinning. “That’s two days in a row. I’m starting to think you’re becoming a night owl.”

You lean your head against her shoulder. “I was up at 6:30 yesterday.”

“Only because the dog farted directly on your pillow.”

“Betrayal from within.”

She laughs, sliding eggs onto your plate. “Breakfast of champions.”

You raise a brow. “This is toast with cheese and scrambled eggs.”

“Exactly.”

You both eat at the kitchen island, barefoot, knees touching under the counter.

No phones.

No rush.

Just soft chewing and the scrape of plates and the quiet understanding that this—this—is peace.

“You’re not getting that,” you say, grabbing the double-stuffed Oreos from the cart.

Kate gasps. “You monster.”

“We have five packs at home.”

“Yeah, but these are seasonal.”

“They’re red. That’s the only difference.”

“They taste festive.”

You laugh, setting them back on the shelf. “I’ll make you homemade cookies.”

“You just want an excuse to use your stand mixer again.”

“I love my stand mixer.”

Kate bumps your hip with hers. “I love you more.”

A kid behind you groans dramatically. “Ugh, get a room.”

You and Kate just smirk at each other.

No room needed.

This aisle is enough.

Sometimes, the nights are chaotic.

Pizza boxes. Game replays. The dog racing back and forth with a sock you never meant to sacrifice.

Sometimes, they’re quiet.

Kate builds a pillow fort in the living room with you one Saturday just because she can.

You watch a movie under the blanket ceiling, her hand on your thigh, her thumb drawing slow circles that say everything she hasn’t said out loud yet.

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” she mumbles against your neck.

You laugh. “Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

Kate pulls back. “Oh, really?”

“Maybe I’m holding out for a ring.”

She grins. “So you would say yes.”

You kiss her. “Try me.”

She kisses you back. But nothing happens the next day. Or the next week. And you let it go. Because you trust her timing. Because loving her has never been about pressure.

Just presence.

You come home from work late.

There’s no big buildup.

No camera crew.

No rose petals on the floor.

Just Kate standing in the kitchen with flour on her cheek, baking something that smells like cinnamon and home.

You drop your bag.

Tilt your head. “What’s going on?”

She shrugs. “Felt like making cookies.”

You walk over and kiss her cheek. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know.”

There’s music playing quietly in the background. A soft guitar instrumental. One you used to play on loop when your hands shook too much to type.

Kate takes the tray out of the oven and sets it down with a soft smile.

“Want to try one?”

You nod. Grab one.

Take a bite.

Something hard clinks against your teeth.

You blink.

“What the hell—?”

Kate is already grinning.

You pull out a small, sealed plastic capsule.

You stare at her. Then back at the cookie. Then at her again.

“No,” you whisper, heart in your throat.

She’s already kneeling.

She opens the capsule.

Pulls out a delicate gold ring.

Simple. Elegant. So Kate.

“I don’t want the big moment,” she says. “I want the small ones. Forever. The boring days. The mismatched socks. The way you hum when you make tea. I want every grocery aisle and pancake morning. I want you in all your moods. I want the quiet — if you’re in it.”

You can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

“I want home,” she says. “And that’s you. So… will you marry me?”

You laugh through a tear. “You baked my proposal.”

She shrugs. “I knew you’d be hungry.”

You grab her face and kiss her so hard the flour from her cheek dusts your lips.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes. A hundred times yes.”

She stands, spinning you, and you don’t remember the last time you felt this light.

The dog barks. The oven beeps again.

The world keeps spinning.

But you — you’re still in her arms, saying yes.

You’re a few months into married life when the question starts to surface — not like an explosion, but like mist curling under the door.

It’s not a moment. It’s a million of them.

It’s Kate falling asleep on your chest mid-movie with your hand resting low on her stomach. It’s watching her at a Valkyries fan event, signing a little girl’s jersey and kneeling to tie her shoelace like she’s been someone’s mom forever. It’s you looking up from your laptop one morning, seeing her reading an article titled “10 Things No One Tells You About IVF”, and quietly bookmarking it.

It’s not if anymore.

It’s when.

You’re folding laundry together on the living room rug, legs criss-crossed, piles of socks between you.

Kate holds up a tiny onesie.

You frown. “Why do we have that?”

“It’s from when your niece visited.”

“You kept it?”

She shrugs. “It’s soft.”

You stare at her.

She stares back.

The moment stretches, long and open and weightless.

You speak first. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

Kate sets the onesie down carefully. “Me too.”

You swallow. “For how long?”

“A while,” she admits. “Since before we got married.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to rush you.”

You look at her. “Kate… nothing about this feels rushed.”

She exhales slowly. “Okay. So what do we do next?”

You smile.

“We figure it out.”

The research phase is brutal. Endless acronyms. Clinic visits. Folders full of pamphlets.

You talk about adoption.

You talk about IVF.

You talk about sperm donors, legal rights, insurance loopholes, parental leave.

Kate makes a spreadsheet.

You make a playlist called “Baby Fever”.

Your dog seems to know something’s happening. He stays close, rests his head on your lap more often.

One night, Kate’s curled up against you on the couch, her fingers tracing your thigh under the blanket.

“What if I’m not good at it?” she asks quietly.

“At spreadsheets?”

“At being a parent.”

You tilt her chin gently so she’s looking at you.

“Kate, you’ve been taking care of me since we met.”

She smiles, but it’s fragile.

You cup her cheek. “You are steady. Patient. Kind. You lead with your heart. That’s all a kid really needs.”

Her eyes shine.

“You’ll be good too,” she whispers.

You kiss her forehead. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You both start sleeping later. Not because you’re tired. Because you're dreaming out loud more. The first time you think it’s happening, it’s a Tuesday.

Nothing dramatic. No morning sickness or glowing cheeks. Just… a pause.

A quiet shift in your body.

You’re brushing your fingers over your lower stomach while Kate folds towels on the bed. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you with that look — the one that’s both too careful and too full of hope.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. “I feel different.”

Kate freezes, towel half-folded.

“Different how?”

You hesitate.

“Just… tired. And sore. And I cried at a Subaru commercial this morning.”

She puts the towel down.

You don’t say it out loud. Neither of you does.

But you feel it.

Maybe.

You lie in bed, feet tangled, sheets kicked off.

“What would we name her?”

Kate’s voice is soft, drowsy. “Her?”

You shrug. “Just feels like a girl.”

Kate hums. “I like Avery.”

You smile. “I like Eliza.”

“We sound like we’re picking out names for a dog.”

You glance at the dog asleep on the foot of the bed.

“He is named Pancake.”

“Fair.”

You roll onto your side. “Would you want to carry, or…?”

She blinks. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I think I want to.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “I want to know what it’s like. To feel her kick. To know I brought her into the world.”

Kate’s hand slides to your stomach, warm and steady. “You’re gonna be so hot pregnant.”

You snort. “That’s your takeaway?”

“I will be unhinged. Emotionally. Physically. Biblically.”

You throw a pillow at her.

She catches it, laughing, then pulls you back in and kisses your forehead. “You’re going to be a great mom.”

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.

It feels real.

The first test comes three days later.

Negative.

You stare at the single line like it betrayed you.

Kate sits beside you on the edge of the tub. Doesn’t say anything for a long time.

You finally speak, voice small. “I really thought this was it.”

She nods. “Me too.”

You lean into her shoulder, forehead resting against her collarbone. She wraps her arms around you and rubs slow circles into your back.

“We’re okay,” she whispers. “This doesn’t mean anything. Just one try.”

You nod.

But the ache stays.

Not disappointment — not exactly.

Just the weight of almost.

The second time, it’s worse. Your period’s a week late. You don’t tell her right away. You can’t bear to watch the hope bloom in her eyes again if it’s only going to wilt. But she notices anyway.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, one night, over pasta.

You poke at your food. “Just tired.”

“Work tired or something else tired?”

You hesitate too long.

Kate sets her fork down.

“Babe.”

“I didn’t want to get ahead of anything,” you say. “But it’s been a week. I didn’t want to say it out loud and jinx it.”

She’s already reaching for your hand. “Can I be excited now?”

You nod.

She squeezes your hand tight.

You take the test two mornings later.

Kate’s in the kitchen making coffee. She doesn’t hover. She knows you like to be alone.

You stare at the stick for ten straight minutes before the second line never comes.

It stays blank.

Stark.

Silent.

You walk into the kitchen with the test still in your hand.

Kate sees your face.

“Oh,” she says.

That’s all.

Just, “oh.”

You nod.

She doesn’t cry.

You do.

Just a little.

Into her hoodie, against her chest.

She holds you while the coffee pot beeps behind you.

“Maybe next month,” she says softly, but even she doesn’t sound convinced.

You whisper, “I don’t want to feel like this every month.”

And that — that makes her cry.

Just a tear or two. Quiet.

Because you both want this so badly it aches.

Because you know it’s not a promise. Not for people like you. Not even with science and love and timing on your side.

Later that night, you’re curled together on the couch. The dog is asleep. The TV’s playing some documentary neither of you are really watching.

Kate strokes your hair.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum. “Yeah.”

“If it never happens… if we keep trying and trying and it never works…”

You look up.

“I’ll still choose you,” she says. “Every time.”

You press your face to her chest and whisper, “You’re already everything.”

Kate finds you in the kitchen at 2 a.m., wrapped in a blanket, nursing a glass of water you don’t remember pouring.

She doesn’t speak at first.

Just pads over in her fuzzy socks and wraps her arms around you from behind.

You lean into her.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whisper.

Kate rests her chin on your shoulder. “Then don’t. We’ll stop.”

You turn to look at her. “You don’t mean that.”

She shrugs. “I mean… I want this. With you. But if you need to stop, we stop.”

You stare at her for a long moment.

“Tell me why we’re doing this,” you whisper.

Kate’s eyes are soft but certain. “Because I’ve seen the way you hold our friends’ babies. Because you tear up when you see toddlers in bookstores. Because I’ve seen how gently you love things. And because I want to raise someone with you who knows that kind of love.”

You look down at your hands.

“Do you still believe it’ll happen?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But I still believe in us. And that’s enough to try again.”

You let the silence sit between you. “Okay. One more time.”

You don’t want to take the test.

Not because you don’t want to know. But because this is the last morning you still could be pregnant. Before the world says yes or no. Before it becomes fact.

There’s something sacred about this space — this limbo between believing and knowing. Between maybe and mama.

Kate’s still asleep when you slip out of bed, pulling her hoodie on over your tank top. The apartment is dark except for the faint glow of sunrise seeping under the blinds.

You pad barefoot into the bathroom. You take the test. You set it on the edge of the sink.

And you wait. Heart pounding. Eyes closed. You don’t look at it right away. You brush your teeth. You pet the dog.

You check your email, even though there’s nothing there but a newsletter from that baby site you accidentally subscribed to months ago.

Then you go back. You pick it up.

Two lines.

Two.

Not faint. Not tentative.

Clear.

Positive.

You don’t breathe for three whole seconds.

Then you sit on the floor.

And cry.

Kate finds you like that.

Hunched in the corner of the bathroom, clutching the test like it’s breakable, tears tracking silently down your cheeks.

She doesn’t panic.

She knows you.

Instead, she kneels in front of you, eyes scanning yours.

You hold the test up.

She reads it.

And for a long, long moment, neither of you speak.

“…You’re pregnant?”

Your lip trembles. “I’m pregnant.”

Kate lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

She cups your face in both hands, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your nose, your wet cheeks, your lips.

“You’re—you—you did it. Holy shit, babe.”

You nod.

Still stunned.

“I thought I imagined it,” you whisper. “Every symptom. Every ache. I thought I was doing that thing where my body fakes it again.”

Kate shakes her head, forehead resting against yours. “Not this time. You’re really pregnant.”

You let the words sit in the air.

Later, you're on the couch in her lap, wrapped in a blanket, both still in pajamas.

You hold the test between you like it’s a photograph of the future.

“I think I’m still in shock,” you admit, voice quiet.

Kate kisses your temple. “We’ve been preparing for this so long… and now that it’s real, it doesn’t feel real.”

“What if I mess this up?”

“You won’t.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“We’ll handle it. Together.”

You rest your head on her shoulder. “What if I fall apart?”

“I’ll hold you.”

You glance up. “What if I need pancakes at 3 a.m.?”

Kate grins. “You’ll have pancakes at 2:59.”

You laugh, finally.

The first real, full one in weeks.

Kate pulls you closer, palm resting over your belly.

“I love you,” she whispers. “And I love them. Already.”

Your hand covers hers.

And for the first time — it really sinks in.

You’re not waiting anymore.

You’re beginning.

You decide to tell your people together.

It feels right.

You’ve kept so much close to your chest for so long — the early attempts, the heartbreak, the negative tests — but this time is different.

This time, it’s not a maybe.

This time, you get to celebrate.

And you want to do it with the people who carried you both when you couldn’t carry yourselves.

You and Kate settle in on the couch with your laptop propped up on a pillow and the dog nestled between you like he’s also in on the secret.

Kelsey Plum joins first, her camera at an odd angle, her head half cut off.

“I swear I know how Zoom works,” she mutters, adjusting. “Hi, gays.”

“Hi, chaos,” Kate says.

“Where’s the party?”

Then A’ja Wilson joins, sunglasses on indoors, sipping from a water bottle roughly the size of a toddler.

“Alright, what’s this emergency meeting?” she asks. “Y’all getting matching tattoos or something?”

Sydney Colson joins last, mid-laugh. “Please say you’re starting a reality show. Or a pyramid scheme. Or both.”

Kate smirks. “Better.”

“I knew it,” Sydney says, raising both hands like she just got baptized.

You glance at Kate.

She nods.

You hold up the ultrasound photo.

There’s a beat.

Then Kelsey screams.

“NO. YOU’RE—”

“I’m pregnant,” you say, already tearing up again.

Sydney gasps. A’ja stands up and disappears off-screen entirely. You hear the thump of her running around her house.

“Y’all really—?!” Sydney is blinking hard, trying to recover. “Wait. Wait. Is this for real?”

“For real,” Kate confirms, brushing a tear off her cheek. “We just hit eight weeks. Everything looks good so far.”

“I’m gonna cry,” Kelsey says, already tearing up. “Like, real-life tears. Y’all did it. Y’all really did it.”

A’ja finally returns. “I had to grab my fan,” she says, dramatically waving herself. “I’m emotional and sweating. My girls are gonna be moms?!”

You nod, overwhelmed.

Sydney leans forward. “So when do we get to be the drunk aunties?”

“Immediate effect,” you say. “Full clearance.”

Kelsey snorts. “Don’t play, I already got tiny Nikes in my cart.”

“I want the baby to call me ‘God-tier Auntie Sydney,’” Sydney says.

Kate rolls her eyes. “We’ll see how they feel about titles once they’re verbal.”

“Can I call dibs on introducing them to basketball?” A’ja asks.

“You’ll have to fight Kelsey,” you say.

“You know I’d win,” Kelsey says, deadpan.

Sydney screams.

It takes twenty minutes for the call to calm down. You sit there, teary, hand in Kate’s, watching them love you from across the country.

It feels like your baby is already being welcomed home.

“You’re glowing,” Kate says one morning, watching you sip orange juice in her old Iowa hoodie, which now barely fits over the swell of your lower belly.

You blink at her. “I’m sweating.”

“Glowing.”

“I haven’t slept in three days. I cried because a pigeon walked into traffic.”

Kate nods, totally unfazed. “Glowing.”

You roll your eyes, but inside?

You like it.

You like that she’s seeing you in ways you’re still learning to see yourself.

You’re brushing your teeth when it happens.

A faint, fluttery pressure.

You freeze. You wait. You press your hand against your belly and whisper, “Kate?”

She’s in the other room. “Yeah?”

You’re still frozen. “I think…”

She appears in the doorway, toothbrush still in her mouth, eyes wide.

You grab her hand, place it low on your stomach, and wait.

Then another flick. Soft, like a tiny stretch.

Kate gasps so hard she chokes on her toothpaste.

“OHMYGOD!”

You both start laughing, clutching each other, your mouth still full of minty foam, her eyes wide with tears.

“She kicked,” you whisper.

“She kicked.”

Kate drops to her knees right there on the bathroom tile and kisses your belly.

“You already know how to make an entrance,” she whispers to your bump. “Just like your mom.”

You raise an eyebrow.

Kate winks. “Not you. The dramatic one.”

It becomes a nightly thing.

Kate talks to your belly.

Not cutesy stuff, either — actual conversations.

“Hey, baby. So your mom cried because we ran out of pickles. And then again when we found more pickles.”

“She lies. I did not cry.”

“She wept. She sobbed. She almost named you Vlasic.”

You kick her from the couch.

Later, in bed, she speaks in hushed tones.

“Your mom is braver than she knows. She carries both of us, you know? And I think you’re going to be like her.”

You pretend to be asleep, but your fingers curl around hers.

You’re in a bookstore, wandering the children’s section, when Kate pulls a book off the shelf and reads the title out loud.

“‘Mama, Do You Love Me?’”

You nod.

She opens it, reads a few lines silently, and then quietly says, “I’m gonna read this to her someday.”

You stare at her.

At her calm, certain face. At the way her fingers graze the pages like they’re already part of your baby’s life.

And that’s when it hits you.

Not just that you’re pregnant. Not just that you’re having a daughter. But that you get to raise her with Kate.

And suddenly the past doesn’t hurt anymore. Not in the same way. You are not a broken thing building something new.

You are whole.

And you’re about to bring someone into the world who will be loved from the very beginning.

Sydney Colson is in charge of the games.

Which is the first mistake.

She shows up in a tiara and a “Hot Aunt” sash and hands out whistles with rules like, “If anyone says the word baby, you lose a point.”

Kate immediately says, “Baby.”

Sydney blows her whistle in her face.

Kelsey Plum is in the corner judging the food table like it’s a Michelin restaurant.

A’ja makes a playlist called Womb Vibes that includes Destiny’s Child, Sade, and one rogue Wu-Tang track.

Tiffany Hayes wins “Who Knows Kate Best” with disturbing accuracy.

Kate’s mom, Jill, brings a homemade quilt and starts crying as soon as you open it.

Kate’s sister, Kennedy, hands you a framed photo from the day you found out you were pregnant — the one Kate secretly took of you crying on the bathroom floor, holding the test like it was the whole world.

You cry for most of the afternoon.

And when the guests leave and you’re surrounded by tiny socks and bottles and notes scribbled in pastel-colored cards, you whisper, “It feels too good to be real.”

Kate kneels in front of you, hands resting on your knees.

“It is real,” she says. “Because we made it.”

You wake up to pressure.

Not pain, not at first — just a dull weight in your lower back, like something heavy settling inside your body. The clock on the nightstand glows just past 3 a.m. Kate is still asleep beside you, one hand draped over your stomach, her breathing soft and even.

You lie there for a while, not moving. Not yet. Not sure if it’s real.

Another wave comes. Sharper this time. More insistent.

Your breath catches. You close your eyes.

It’s happening.

It’s finally happening.

By the time you gently shake Kate awake, the pressure has turned to pain — not unbearable, but growing. She blinks at you, confused at first, and then wide-eyed as she sees your expression.

“Is it time?” she whispers.

You nod. “I think so.”

She’s instantly out of bed, already in motion. Her calmness doesn’t mask the tremble in her voice when she says, “Okay. Okay. Hospital bag. I’ll get the car ready.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling your belly. “Don’t forget the playlist.”

She freezes, mid-sock. “Are you serious right now?”

You give a shaky smile. “Contractions Vibes was your idea.”

Kate exhales a breathless laugh, kisses your forehead, and disappears down the hall, mumbling, “God, I love you.”

The drive to the hospital is quiet except for the faint hum of the engine and the soft shuffle of your breath. You grip the side handle of the passenger seat and wince through another contraction. Kate reaches over and squeezes your hand. Her thumb runs circles over your knuckles the whole way.

You’ve both rehearsed this moment so many times, but now that you’re living it, everything feels strangely distant — like you’re watching it happen from outside your body.

Kate speaks gently as she pulls into the parking lot. “You’re doing so well, babe. We’re almost there.”

You nod, but your hands are shaking.

You’re not sure if it’s fear or adrenaline or both.

In the hospital room, the air is cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights too bright. Nurses move quickly around you, efficient but kind. Kate stays by your side, her hand never leaving yours. The pain builds with each contraction — sharp and tightening, like your body is folding in on itself. You grip the sheets, the bed rail, her fingers. Anything to ground yourself.

“Breathe with me,” Kate says, her forehead pressed to yours. “In and out. Just like that. I’ve got you.”

Her voice is the only thing that cuts through the pain.

Time becomes something elastic — it stretches, contracts, loses shape. Hours pass, or maybe minutes. You’re not sure. You only know that your body is opening, splitting, preparing. You’re afraid. You tell Kate that. Quietly. In the moments between.

“I’m scared,” you whisper into her shoulder.

“I know,” she says. “Me too. But we’re doing this. Together.”

She wipes sweat from your brow, kisses your knuckles, murmurs encouragement even when you curse, even when you sob, even when you scream through the pain. She doesn’t flinch. She just stays.

That’s what love does.

When it’s time to push, the room shifts again. More people. More light. The midwife’s voice is calm but firm.

“You’re doing great. You’re almost there.”

You dig your heels into the bed. You bear down. You scream. Kate’s hand anchors you, and her voice is in your ear the entire time.

“You’re so strong. I’m right here. You’ve got this. I love you. I love you.”

You don’t know how long it takes. You don’t care. You only care about what comes after.

And finally, a cry.

One sharp, perfect cry that breaks something open in your chest.

You collapse back against the pillows, breathless, exhausted, shaking.

The baby is placed on your chest, tiny and warm and slippery and real.

She cries, and so do you.

Kate’s crying too. She’s covering her mouth with both hands, staring at the little girl in your arms like she’s witnessing a miracle.

And maybe she is.

“She’s here,” you whisper.

Kate nods, brushing tears from your cheeks. “She’s so beautiful.”

You both stare at her — blinking, squirming, perfect. She grips your finger, impossibly small.

“Hi, baby,” you say, voice thick. “I’m your mama.”

Kate leans in. “And I’m your mom.”

Your daughter yawns, already content. Like she knew this was home all along.

the room quiets.

The nurses step out.

It’s just the three of you now.

Kate lies beside you, one arm cradling your shoulders, the other resting gently over the baby sleeping on your chest. You’re both quiet. Not from exhaustion — though that’s there — but from reverence.

This is the beginning of something holy.

You whisper into the stillness, “We did it.”

Kate kisses your temple. “You did it.”

You shake your head. “We did.”

She looks down at your daughter.

And then back at you.

And smiles.

You’re at Golden Gate Park with your kids on a warm Saturday afternoon, sunlight slicing through the trees in golden slivers. Your daughter is three, your son one—both wrapped in the kind of laughter that makes every sleepless night worth it. You sit on the bench nearby, coffee in hand, sneakers scuffed from the short walk over, eyes tracking their every move.

You’re still not used to how full your life is. But you love it.

“Mommy!” your daughter yells, waving wildly. “Doggie!”

You look up, smiling. “Where?”

She points.

And that’s when you see her.

Azzi.

She’s walking along the trail with a golden retriever bounding in front of her, a leash still dragging behind. Her hoodie is baggy, hair tied up, sunglasses low on her nose. She bends down, laughing softly as she grabs the leash—then straightens.

She sees you.

Everything stops.

Your breath catches. It’s not a punch to the chest. It’s a slow, deep inhale of something you buried a long time ago. Something that still smells like fall mornings in Connecticut and heartache at 3 a.m.

You meet her eyes.

And Azzi… she doesn’t look away.

You don’t move at first. Neither does she.

You just look at each other—six years of silence coiling in the air between you, humming like a wire too taut.

Azzi makes the first step.

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is soft. Hesitant.

You nod, standing slowly. “Hey.”

[dollyfetti]

Heyy sweet stuff💋

Saw your post telling us to flood your inbox, so I thought maybe you could do a katsuki x curly haired reader!

since the beginning of UA, katsuki has always been distracted by reader's curly hair. You couldn't waterboard this information out of him but he often imagines what it's like to twirl one of her long soft ringlets around his finger, he wonders what the wash day process is like, and he thinks reader looks cute with her bright pink bonnet on when she walks around the dorms

There was even one time when he very coolly wrapped his arm around readers' shoulders to twirl her hair around his fingers on the other side of her face while she spoke (UGH THIS IS SO ATTRACTIVE TO ME😩😩😩)

You can make it vague about what type (3 or 4) she has but I have type 3b and 3c curls and I was feeling self indulgent writing this lmao

Love youuuu!!

OHHHHH MYYYY DONT EVEN TELL ME THIS BC I WILL GO CRAZY‼️‼️ i also have a mix of 3b and 3c hehehe, but i’ll keep it vague !! UGHH omg i love ur brain the shoulder thing stawp!!!!! he’s so silly 😋

saturday was always your favorite day of the week. the spring sunlight shines through the common room windows, spilling into the room with radiance and comfort. you’re sitting in the common room, legs tucked under you, casually scrolling through pinterest with a content ease, music lightly humming from a different app. weekend mornings mean half the class is either knocked out in their rooms, or out and about during their free time.

your hair’s down now, loose curls spilling over your shoulders in defiant little spirals after you tugged off your bonnet. katsuki knows that bonnet well— he’s seen it in almost every shade of lighting, wrapped around your head like a crown at night, or slipping off in the mornings when you drag yourself into the kitchen still half asleep. you've always look stupid cute with it on, not that he'd ever say something about it.

he sits across the room, supposedly doing something with his phone, but his eyes keep drifting to you— well, your hair. the way it catches the gorgeous daylight, and the way it bounces a little every time you shift.

in fact, he can't stop staring, awkwardly enough. it's not that he's never noticed your pretty hair before, of course he has! but not like this, when there's not much product in it, and it's still unruly from sleep. it's attractive. too attractive.

eventually, like he can’t take it anymore, he gets up, crosses the room, and drops onto the plush couch next to you without a word.

"hii," you smile sweetly, looking up from your cluttered pinterest board to katsuki's typical grumbly face while your legs bump into his as you shift to make room. he grunts, classically, in response.

not that he really needs to say anything anyway, he already knows you're about to start your day by rambling to him about "something soo cute!!" or "a really funny video" you saw last night when he was asleep by 9 on a friday.

and like clockwork, you start. "oh! ohmygosh, suki, i saw this thing last night-"

he hums as you begin to babble, nodding along like usual and letting your voice wrap around him like it belongs there. but then out of nowhere, and without even looking at you— he stretches his arm out along the back of the couch, like he just happens to be close enough to slide his hand around your shoulders and rest it on the other side of your neck, fingers brushing your curls. like it’s the most casual thing for him to do.

katsuki's fingers find one of the tighter curls near your opposite cheek, and starts idly twirling it around his finger. not rushed, not embarrassed, just quiet and confident, like this is something he’s done a hundred times before.

you tilt your head slightly with a small grin, his beefy arm resting atop your shoulders.

"what?" you giggle. he doesn’t stop twirling. of anything, his fingers slow down, like he’s savoring the feel of it.

"how the hell is it so soft?" he huffs, sounding more irritated than he means to.

you keep up your casual smile, even though his voice is right against your ear now.

"i take care of it!"

he grunts in acknowledgement, his eyes peering down to your screen. he dryly chuckles, shaking his head, fingers still boinging the curl up and down. "that shit looks like a migraine waiting to hap-"

"that's why i'm organizing them!" you cut him off with a swift chirp as you tilt your phone to face him more. "see, because i have all these in separate boards, but-"

and as you go back to yapping his ear off, he doesn’t move his arm. he finally lets the curl spring free, then tucks a loose piece behind your ear, fingers lingering a second longer than they should.

[martiniluvr]

“jason todd is miserable and tortured and that’s just how it has to be” ok but have you considered this song is literally him if things had been different. have you ever thought of that.

[thecapricunt1616]

Papaya (c.b one-shot)

Part one here

Blurb (More BTC!) : He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding.  “Bear?” You said confused 

“See the fucking cup, asshole?” He seethed, everyone was watching now as he dumped the remainder of your icy drink on him and crushed it before throwing it at his shocked face “ the blue cup means she’s taken”

♡ One-shot inspo: Papaya is associated with femininity & strengthening love connections. Hang twigs of papaya wood over a door to keep out evil. Eat papaya with a loved one to intensify your love. Mix papaya leaves with mandrake and burn or use in the bath to reverse hexes and jinxes. ♡ Summary: You & Carmys first time, F/U to 'Very First Time'♡ W/C: 4.7k ♡ A/N: EEEE It's here! The first was recieved so well, & my sweet @carmenberzattosgf requested a part 2 as well as this sweet anon, so I had to indulge! I hope it is everything you wanted <3 Who's ready for some sexy sexy Carmy tomorrow!? I know I am!!! I can't believe this is my last piece before the drought is over...It has gone so freaking fast!!! I can't wait to meet all the new fans that this season brings <3 :) (P.S. If you were tagged, it's BC you asked for a part 2 or are my moot!! <3) P.S - Tumblr was really trying to get me to commit murder while formatting this JFC ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, College relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish' ), Drunk men being pervy, Physical violence, Angry Carmy

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You stumbled into the nearest vacant bathroom (with your drink in hand of course) as Miley Cyrus’ We Can’t Stop bumps through the speakers of the frat house so loudly that the floors shook. 

The amount of stinky sweaty bodies and drunk people making out in various corners of the hallway would usually get to you if you weren’t so out of your mind. You weren’t exactly sure which drink you were on yet, but you did know that when your best friend Paisley had challenged you to a keg standoff and you weren’t a quitter, so you couldn’t count just how many beers you had chugged. 

You tried to count on your fingers as you hovered above the nasty toilet seat to pee just exactly how many red solo cups of mostly liquor with a bit of mixer you had consumed. You were distracted by that nasty toilet seat, wondering how the boys that live here don’t gag whenever they come to pee. You were happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat. You were really happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat, the guys here were assholes. Most of them, anyway. 

You grabbed your blue cup, that insinuated you were taken or dating someone steady, out with you back into the hot sticky living room, to hear someone (probably paisley, it had to have been paisley or one of your other sorority sisters) had requested they play Girls by The 1975, you tried finding her but got distracted by hands on your waist and “I love your shirt” in your ear. It was a voice you didn’t recognize, you could tell the man towered over you by the way he had to hunch over to talk to you. 

Carmy was bigger then you, but not that much bigger, this guy would probably have a head on Carmy. He had grown just like Mike said he would, and it looked amazing on him. Funnily enough though, even though you had been dating since the week you graduated high school - and you were now juniors in college, he still hadn’t slept with you yet. You often after you left his house to head back to your sorority house since they had a curfew, would cry to your sorority about how he still only wants to do oral. 

He didn’t often want blowjobs unless it was a special occasion, he would tell you your hand is fine and you don’t have to do ‘all that’ even though you wanted to- you figured since he was saying that he didn’t want you to. You weren’t aware - but Carmy was kicking himself in the ass every single day that he hasn’t fucked you the way you deserve yet. He was honestly getting worried he was going to lose you to some guy who would. You had asked him, he had told you that he wasn’t ready to go that far with you yet, that he wanted to wait and make it special. 

But in all reality he was terrified out of his mind. He knew he could make you cum with his mouth, but his dick?! He had to dig his nails into his palms until they near drew blood whenever you put your fucking mouth on him, so if you let him fuck your cunt?! He was worried he was going to cum in 3 strokes and you would laugh and break up with him and tell him you were better off best friends and there goes his only friend and the love of his life and the person he wants to marry. But he found himself asking as he fantasized about marrying you how he was supposed to do that if he can’t even find the balls to fuck you right. 

His anxiety was what led him to calling you 3 times tonight, because you were late - and you were never late - because the two of you wanted to spend as much time as possible together since his schedule was so packed between working at the beef and going to classes part time. He was nowhere near graduating, that was because he was stacking his money away in a savings account that gained interest like Uncle Jimmy taught him, so that his graduation present to you could be the Chicago brownstone you both had talked about having together since high school. 

He found it so incredibly sexy and endearing that you put school first in your life, he wanted to reward you for it. He felt you deserved the world and more, since you were his world. Which is why, after the third nervous stuttering voicemail which is how you could tell he was really nervous, had gone unanswered? He opened the find my friends app and grabbed his brothers keys. 

“Mike I’m going…out!” He called and shut the front door before he could get questions about why the hell he of all people would be leaving the house past 10:00 on a Friday night. He anxiously mapped the location on his phone and hopped in the car. When he got there, though- he couldn’t even park near the house. He had to park a block over and walk because it was so packed with cars. He made sure to lock the car in case any drunkards were to try and sleep in it or think it was there’s, and put on the walking directions. 

Carmen had to deal with drunk behavior well - every night, so being with a bunch of drunk people wasn’t his favorite place to be - but for you he persevered, because what the hell were you doing here. 

You, currently, were inside, grinding on the same guy that had come up to you to Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. You had finished another drink, and forgotten completely it wasn’t your boyfriend behind you - and didn’t even have the mind to ask yourself what he would be doing there. Said boyfriend was currently pushing his way through the kitchen, and rolling his eyes and the ‘single, taken, DTF’ different colored cups on the counter as he tried to find you. 

He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding. 

“Bear?” You said confused 

“See the fucking cup, asshole?” He seethed, everyone was watching now as he dumped the remainder of your icy drink on him and crushed it before throwing it at his shocked face “the blue cup means she’s taken” 

He grabbed your arm gently “squish y’wasted. We're going home” he said firmly but not mean, and you stumbled next to him as people move out of the way since the entire room was privy to what just happened. You weren’t sure what happened all you knew was the man was behind you and then he wasn’t and then carmy was punching him and now you were in the car and Carmy was lecturing you about how worried he was. 

“He could have hurt you, angel. Please- I know it’s college and you can do what you want but I love you and those guys are all assholes, they’ll take advantage of nice girls the second they get a chance. And you’re so sweet squish, you’re too sweet. They don’t deserve to have you over” he squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for what he knew was probably the hundredth time in the 35 minute car ride back to his house. 

You didn’t say much of anything that could make sense, but he agreed with you anyway. “And theee um. The the- what was I saying?” You look over at him at a red light with a drunk smile, your eyes glazed over from all the alcohol and cheeks hot with the rush of it in your system. 

“I dunno baby but you look cute” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead gently 

“Your knuckles are bleeding, did you hurt them?” You asked, the events from less than an hour prior already having been wiped from your mind. He chuckled a bit, shaking his head 

“M’fine squish, you need some water” he helped you out of the car, supporting most of your weight as you stumbled up the stairs of the Berzatto house, and he unlocked the door. 

“Ooooo you know what I want?” You asked and he smiled as he locked the door behind him and lead you to the kitchen 

“What’s that honey?” He helps you sit down at the table and grabs a glass, filling it with ice water 

“I want a bear special beef sandwich. Pretty please?” He came over and handed you the glass 

“Drink that and we’ll talk about it” he said and you obediently chugged down the glass as he went back to the fridge and got out the beef they didn’t use today at the restaurant and a pan to heat it in 

“This is good” you said, finishing it off and crunching on a piece of ice to which he cringed 

“Ugh y’teeth babe don’t do that!” He scolded as he always did when you munched on ice, taking it from you and filling it again, adding a straw before giving it back so you were less tempted to repeat your actions

He was cutting up a bell pepper for your sandwich when you asked “why won’t you have sex with me?” Which almost made him slice his finger but thankfully he missed it by a centimeter. 

“Who said I won’t” he looked back at you, his cheeks a pretty shade of pink as he flushed with embarrassment. 

“I dunno. You say you’re waiting but I want to and paisley says maybe you’re shy and if m’drunk maybe you’ll wanna do it more but the problem-“ you’re interrupted with a drunk hiccup “with that is, paisley said you have to be drunk too, and you aren’t.” You slurred, struggling to find your straw again to chug down the other half of your second glass of water. 

He stared at you, unsure of what to say and Mikey comes pounding down the stairs per usual and into the kitchen. A bull in a fucking China shop, just like Richie. “Yooo it’s squishy! Sup girl” he came over, giving you a brotherly push to the back of the head and doing the same to Carmy as he walks by to the fridge 

“Hey! You could have killed me I’m drinking!” You slurred, “but I’m asking Carmy why he won’t h-“

“Heyyyy!!! Hey hey squish no we’re not sharing those things” Carmy cuts you off quickly and looks over, shaking his head 

“She’s fuckin gone” Mike said to himself as he grabbed a can of soda 

“Yeah why do you think I’m fuckin having her eat and drink water?” Carmy quips, putting the beef into the bun he’d toasted and adding extra cheese for you on top how he liked it. 

“Mm. Make sure you have a few vomit bags ready I think the last time she was this wasted was her birthday” he headed back up to his room and Carmy sighed to himself, knowing he was right. 

“Who’s vomiting?” You asked, sipping the last few dribbles of water and he set your sandwich in front of you, taking the cup to fill again and you gasp, having forgotten you even wanted the sandwich “I was just gonna ask you to make me one too!” You said excitedly and took a big bite. 

He came back to the table, setting the filled glass down and sitting in the chair next to you, gently rubbing your back “chew it baby Jesus it’s not goin anywhere” he teased and pushed your hair back over your shoulders. 

“I know- it’s just so good” you mumble with your mouth full and he chuckled, shaking his head and wiping some grease that had dribbled down your chin off with the pad of his thumb, wiping it on a napkin. He didn’t know what came over him, maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t remember - maybe selfishly it was because he knew you’d be brutally honest, but he asked 

“If we did have sex, and I didn’t last very long- would you be upset that you had to finish with my mouth or fingers instead?” His voice was laced with nervous curiosity, but he had to know this to be able to properly navigate having sex since you had been bringing it up more and more often as of late. 

“What?! Upset? I think I’ll cry with joy that I actually can have your dick in me it doesn’t matter how long” you said casually. He wasn’t sure what it was about it, maybe it was the tone of your voice - like it’s an every day thought for you, like you were aching to have him inside of you. Yeah, that was it. The coolness mixed with desperation, it made his cock stiffen a little more than he figured it should have. 

“Mm.” Was all he said, covering himself with his hand, it wasn’t like you would notice, anyway, but he was still ever so shy about you making him aroused - like he was doing something wrong. Even though you were his girlfriend of 3 years and you said I love you multiple times a day to each other. 

While he was helping you shower, and then helping you dress for bed, that was when it hit him. This weekend, his mom would be out of town for some work thing he didn’t care to know the details of, and Mike goes to the casino every Friday and stays out practically until 5 am. He would have the house to himself, and it would be the perfect time to finally have sex. 

He was mapping out in his mind the most romantic way to do it, flowers, candles, music? He told himself he had to do it right and make it a night to remember for the both of you. He had to cook for you - he figured he would make your favorite penne à la vodka, and he wouldn’t tell you about doing it just in case he bitches out. But the amount of thought he was putting into this, if he bitched out he was gonna be extraordinarily angry with himself. 

Your voice pulled him out of his head as if always did “bear” you said sleepily 

“Sup bug” he kissed your head tenderly and rubbed your arm as you nuzzled into his side. 

“Can you turn the tv down m’tired” you mumble into his shirt and he took the remote, turning it off. 

“Love you baby, g’night” he resumed rubbing over your hip as he got lost in his thoughts once again. 

 When the day came, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t bitch out. He thought about it 5 times that day and convinced himself not to, but now, now that you were sat at the table with him, a candle between you, giggling about how ‘romantic’ he had been acting tonight - he felt like a total fucking idiot. 

“I’m sorry, fuck- do you not like it? I read one of sugars magazines she left behind before she moved - they said girls like candles and music” he pushed it to the side and you shook your head, moving it back 

“I love it, bear. I’m just wondering why you’re treating me so special tonight is all, I’d have been a lot more dressed up and pretty if you’d have-“ he cuts you off

“You’re fuckin- y’perfect, squish. I love you, that’s why I’m doin it. I just wanna show you how much” he held your hand and squeezed it gently “you mean everything t’me. Really” he said and kissed your knuckles gently. 

When you made it to his bedroom, you realized he’d hung romantic little white string lights along his headboard to provide more ambient lighting, and that’s when it clicked what was happening. Your heart raced in your chest like a hummingbird trapped in a cage as his hands roam your body. 

You were sprawled out beneath him, both of you down to your underwear, the feeling of his lips nipping, and licking, and biting yours was enough to make you wet, but when his broad hands started palming your tits, his thumbs and forefingers massaging your nipples, you had to squeeze your thighs together to provide your throbbing clit some pressure. You were mewling and whining beneath him, he was panting and grunting into your mouth, your noses bumping with each unexpected kiss. 

“Carmy” you whine into his mouth, reaching to pull one of your hands off of your breast and he pulled away just enough to speak, lapis eyes boring into yours that were no doubt lust blown. 

“Y’good?” He asked gently, kissing the corner of your mouth chastely and eased his grip on your breasts. You moved the hand you were holding down, down, down, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your panties 

“I want you to touch me here…please” you said softly and hook your arm around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his sandy blond curls as you pull him back for a kiss his breath hitched slightly at the action, his cock twitching at your words which you felt against your thigh, causing you to smile a bit. He cupped your heat with his hand for a moment, causing you to grind onto it needily and he sucked on your bottom lip as he spread your lips to slip his middle finger over your sticky soaked hole, teasing it gently before trailing it up to find the throbbing erect bud. 

You gasped lightly at the contact, back arching a bit and moaning shamelessly, your voice coming out high pitched and whiny “oh yes” you said as he rubbed the pad of his finger back and forth and in circles, alternating between the two in such a way that was making your stomach tighten and thighs shiver. 

“Yeah?” He kissed your jaw “feels good mm? Sound so pretty, princess” he said hotly in your ear, gently nipping at your neck in the way that drove you wild. 

“So good you make me feel so good” you mewl as he moved his finger down again, thrusting it in and out as he does that beckoning motion with the finger and he gently rubbed your clit with his other hand. You sob in pleasure, fisting the sheets with one hand and tugging Carmys hair with the other. 

“Good girl tha’s a good girl” his husky voice and hot breath made you shiver even though with how close your orgasm was- you felt oh so hot. You felt him lick your sternum where he had watched a bead of sweat trailing down and that caused your eyes to open once more, to see his staring back like a round eyed cat. 

“M’gonna cum” you choke out, pulling the sheets harder to avoid hurting him by pulling his hair too hard. This brought a grin to his face, finding your nipple with his lips and sucking on the sensitive bud, just as he adds another finger, speeding up his beckoning motion. Your eyes nearly roll back when you felt his lips on your ear, encouraging you

“Yeah? Yeah pretty girl? Are you gonna cum f’me? Feels sooo good huh. Go ahead princess let me feel you cum on my hand I love it when y’pussy sucks in my fingers it’s so fuckin hot. Y’re so fuckin hot” your jaw fell slack in a silent scream, brows knitted together as he praised you while your orgasm came over you full force. You swore you saw stars behind your lids. 

“Please please please pleaaase bear” you found yourself begging, pulling him up for a kiss and he chuckled into your lips, pulling away enough to ask, 

“Please what, what baby what d’you want?” He cooed sweetly before ravishing your face with kisses which made your thumping, racing heart turn to goo 

“Please fuck me. Please- oh god please I fucking need you inside your fingers aren’t enough I need to feel you.” You begged, your voice was raspy, needy, he never heard anything hotter in his life. 

“Yeah?” He asked sweetly, resting his forehead on yours, nuzzling your nose in a eskimo kiss gently. “Open your eyes” he said softly and dried his hand on the sheets, pushing your sticky, sweat slick hair from your face and cupping your cheeks. Your eyes flickered open to meet his honest blue ones, blown with lust, glazed over with love. “Tell me again, I want to see you when you say it baby, so I know you want this.” He rubbed your jaw tenderly with his thumbs. 

“I want you to show me how much you love me, Bear, please” you said softly and he smiled in the way that showed off his little dimples, to which you kissed it gently before he told you 

“I don’t think there’s a way to show you just how much I love you, because it can’t even be described in words - but I’ll try anything f’you, squish” he kissed your forehead lovingly, lingering for a moment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you soaked in the moment, gently rubbing his back. 

“I love you too, more than words” you said honestly when he pulled away, grabbing a condom from his nightstand drawer and ripping it open with his teeth, an action that had you clenching around nothing, but hopefully that would be resolved in just a moment. 

“Now, if you want to stop just say the word, if you can’t find your words just like…bite me I guess” he teased and you giggled, shaking your head 

“Will do” you watch as he slipped off his boxers, rolling the rubber all the way to the base, he tugged off your panties that had been soaked through, tossing them in his laundry basket since you’d need new ones after which lived in his top drawer, and got between your legs. You watch as he strokes himself a few times with his hand and you felt your throat go a bit dry. What if you were the one to ruin it all because it wouldn’t fit or something? 

“You ok?” He asked gently as he caught you staring and you met his eyes again, putting on a smile and nodding, spreading your legs wider in hopes that might make more room. 

“Amazing. Excited” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, but you left off your biggest and most present emotion nervous. 

“Okay…that look says I’m worried so what’s up?” He held your hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb and looking into your eyes. It was impossible to lie when he looked at you like that, even more impossible when you were both butt naked and his dick was in his hand. 

“What if it doesn’t fit?” You asked nervously. He chuckled as if he didn’t believe you, shaking his head

“I’m not that hung, babe. It’ll be fine. Do you care if I touch you?” He asked and you shook your head, swallowing thickly. He knelt on the bed with his left knee, leaning over you and nestling the tip of his cock between your folds and rubbing your wetness up and over your clit, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. He watched you carefully, for any signs of discomfort or that you were having second thoughts. 

Your lips were parted and little puffs of air fan his chin, eyes hooded in pleasure and little squeaks coming out of your throat each time his tip bumped your clit firmly and the ridge of it rubbed back down to swipe over your hole and back up to repeat the assault. You could cum just like this if he did it long enough. “Feels good?” He checked, intertwining your fingers and squeezing your hand lovingly. 

“Uh-huh” was all you could manage to get out and he smiled a bit, kissing your chin gently 

“Want me to try being inside Angel?” 

In response, a needier, whinier “uh-huh” 

He looks down for a moment, grabbing his cock and lining the tip up with your entrance. “Remember what to do?” He triple checked, this time- just a quick nod. He ever so gently eased his way in, his jaw tightening at the way it made his balls feel 10 pounds heavy, his cock twitching at the foreign sensation. He grunted to cover a whine instead, and you squeezed his hand tight, looking down and watching as he slowly pushed his shaft in about a fourth of the way and stopped, looking up at you. Once more. 

“How do you feel baby?” He gently rubbed your clit with his other hand, causing you to clench around him and in turn a unconscious moan tears from his throat “jeeesus fuck” he grunts, hips sinking in further in instinct and you squeak, shifting uncomfortably which made him look down and quickly pull back out to just the tip “sorry- fuck I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened are you ok?” He kissed your wrist. 

“Burning. Kinda. Not a bad, it feels…kinda good? It like…it feels like a good stretch when it almost hurts. And like…full. So full, but like a good full. A fulfilled kinda full, is that weird?” You rambled on all the thoughts swimming in your brain other than ‘cock feels good’  which was the main one. 

“Yeah? Feels good f’me too baby” he leaned in, kissing your lips and sinking in further, half way now. He kept kissing you, gently sucking on your tongue as you got used to the uncomfort of the stretch. “Can I try moving Angel?” He asked , almost into your mouth, you just respond with a huffy hum of agreement before pulling your lips back up to his. He very slowly at first started to thrust and had to let go of your hand to fist the pillow so he didn’t bust right then. 

“Holy fuck” he pants, nuzzling his face in your neck and continuing to rub your clit as he thrusted in and out. The feeling left you breathless, wordless, thoughtless. You were on cloud nine, you could die like this. You felt that sensation of an orgasm coming in your belly again, this was the quickest he’d ever brought you to another. 

“Bear-bear- I’m-“ you whine out, back arching and jaw dropping as his tip brushes your g spot and you nearly cry, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at the intense pleasure it brought. “Cumming, cumming im cumming” you babbled, as your orgasm took over, clenching and unclenching around his cock in such a way that he literally couldn’t stop himself from spilling into the condom if he tried. 

The whiny grunt he made when he came was the hottest noise you had heard to date and was nothing short of beautiful. He bit down on your neck, sucking a pretty purple bruise into the skin before burying himself to the hilt as he shoots rope after rope of seed into the condom. Your thighs tightened around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders so hard they’d leave moon shaped bruises come morning that he’d proudly walk around the house with at breakfast so Mike could finally believe that he’s not just lying about doing sexual shit with you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him there and relishing in the feeling. You felt like he was made for you, you fit together like 2 puzzle pieces. You knew he was your forever, but this solidified it even more. After he fucked you through both of your highs, he pulled out and laid next to you in a heap, panting for a few moments before he finally spoke

“Biggest mistake of my life was waiting so long to do that”

@carmenberzattosgf @daysofyellowroses @aestheticaltcow @l4long-winded @thehouseofevangelista @w31rdash @caramelberzatto @wtfsteveharrington

[saturn-nite]

"she goes boom!"

- drabble . gojo satoru x afab!reader .

summary: maybe you deserved it, maybe you didn't, but satoru can't resist breaking you down to make you beg

cw: dom!satoru, sub!reader, edging (a lot), a very teasing satoru, brat taming if you squint, dumbification for a bit, satoru being unfair, mentions of cunnilingus + fingering, a sprinkle of degradation (calls reader slut), praise (calls reader a good girl), one (1) daddy used, nicknames (honey, darling, my girl), clit spanking briefly, begging, punishment play ish , slight dacryphilia

a/n: first time writing smut and first time posting on tumblr :")) hope yall like xx [this is a repost]

"You still with me, baby?"

The words, low and teasing, are mumbled into your inner thigh in between playful nips, but the concern is still quietly audible. Shakily, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking blearily where Satoru has lifted his head up from your core.

It's unfair how beautiful he looks- alabaster strands artfully ruffled from when your hands had clung onto them, blue eyes bright and cheeky, glossy pink lips made even glossier with your arousal.

A sharp tap on your thigh reminds you to focus and you force yourself to rein in your thoughts to focus.

"I asked you a question, honey," Satoru murmurs, tilting his head mockingly. "Don't tell me you're already fucked dumb? I haven't even done anything yet."

Your first instinct is to scoff- liar. He has been doing something- someone, rather- and has been for the past hour in fact. Teasing you with his fingers, tongue, playfully slapping your throbbing clit as his fingers massage your outer folds, their tips skimming your entrance but never pushing deeper to soothe the burning ache in your core to let you cum, playfully dangling you at the edge of release every time before pulling back.

"I- Satoru-"

"Focus," he singsongs, his smirk widening into a grin, slapping your clit in quick succession, causing you to squeak slightly. "You never answered my question, darlin'."

"Mm-" you struggle to rein back your thoughts, still panting and sniffing slightly, remembering his check-in. "I- y-yeah, 'm good."

Satoru hums, gently kissing your inner thigh, a quiet agreement to continue this.

"Good girl," he murmurs, letting his soft side show for just half a second before his smirk's back on his face, eyes half-lidded with mischief, low tones transforming into a growl. "Or well... not. This is a punishment, no? 'S what you get for being a bitchy little brat."

You cry out when he spanks your pussy hard to punctuate his point, a half sob lurching out your throat as you try to close your legs and hide your poor cunt from him, but his hands firmly lock your thighs in place, spread out and wide open just for him.

"S-said I was sorry," you whine.

Satoru chuckles lowly and you can't but clench involuntarily at the sound. "Aw, but brats like you never do mean their apologies, do they? But that's okay," he continues casually, conversationally, hands gliding up and down your thighs, tone turning faintly mocking. "Daddy's just gotta fuck the brat outta ya, hmm?"

You whine. "'toru-"

"Shh..." he cuts in smoothly, clambering on top of you, caging you in, gently raising your hands up to pin them on either side of your head. "Just stay pretty for me, hm?"

His lips meet your own, wet with your arousal and you can't help but moan into the kiss, eager for more as your hips needlessly bounce up to rub against one of Satoru's thighs that had sneakily pressed up against your core. The slight friction makes you dizzy and you whimper, mindlessly rubbing up and down his thigh as the kiss deepens.

"God, you're such a slut, huh?" he chuckles, breaking the kiss. "Can't last two minutes without me touching you down there, can you?"

"Satoru, please-"

"Please what, honey?" he chuckles, mouth moving down to nibble on that sensitive spot on your neck and you keen. To him, you're so cute like this, your walls breaking down from some simple pleasure, tongue-tied from trying to answer a couple of questions. "You gotta be specific."

"'Toru," you gasp. "Just- please."

Satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head, mock pouting. "Darling, I know you can to better than that... use your words, huh?"

"Satoru-"

He frowns and sits up, releasing your hands. "Hmm? Well, I guess you don't want it that much then-"

"Toru, please-" you grab his wrist, blinking away tears of desperation, trembling. "Please just fuck me, please, need you inside me, wanna feel you-"

"Aww, you're so cute when you're honest," he purrs, leaning in close, right beside your ear.

You screw your eyes up at the feeling of his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Even with your eyes firmly shut, you don't need to imagine to cocky, fox-like smirk on his face, canines ready to devour you.

"But I think my girl can last a bit longer than that, right~?"

[bullet-prooflove]

Could you maybe do Arlo Turk with “I don't know where I'd be without you”?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @scorpio-1357 @fanny-123456 @alexlynn16 @mini-bee-bee

Set prior to below fics during their taskforce days:

High - Arlo knows something isn't right.

The Call - Arlo calls you at three in the morning expecting to get your voicemail.

Flowers - Every year on your birthday Arlo sends you flowers.

Five Years (NSFW) - It's been five years since Arlo last laid eyes on you.

Beachside - Arlo spends a morning on the water considering about what you've told him.

For You - Arlo confirms his feelings for you.

“I don't know where I'd be without you.” Arlo whispers into the curve of your throat as his grip tightens on your hips, rocking against you. “Probably dead, buried in some ditch…”

“Arlo…” You chide, your fingers threading through his copper curls, tugging his head back so that he can look into your eyes. “You know I would never let that happen…”

And you hadn’t, not today when a cartel leader had him hanging by his wrists, threatening to eviscerate him. Not six months ago when there was a gun to his head, hammer cocked ready to blow his brains out. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him, professionally, personally.

“You’re my guardian angel baby.” He murmurs as he raises to his feet, carrying you with him to the bedroom. “Now let me show you a little heaven.”

Love Arlo? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[the-only-jessica-danforth]

What’s the harm in a midday dirty martini or two?

[aphroditeslover11]

I’m part way through reading ‘American Prometheus’ and have just reached Oppie’s martinis. Apparently his signature trick was to rim the glass with a mix of honey and lime juice. After a bit of digging I also found a Washington Post article that said he liked his measures large and with only a dash of vermouth. The real question is whether I should try it at a party in a few weeks?!

[jodieleereads]

Wretched

[m0onlitmercy]

this used to be me but then i evolved and realized why fight when i could have them both </3

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

[dollyfetti]

Sigh... thinking about katsmoochi having to deal with Reader and her shockingly low iron deficiency.

Imagine Katsuki and Reader sparring it out right. And Reader is actually killing it rn. Infact she even manages to sweep katsuki off his feet and pin him down! But then she gets up too quickly. She offers a hand to him swaying only slightly, and katsuki stupidly takes it letting her clumsily pull him back up to his feet. And then she's stood there, but not really, she's hardly balancing on her two feet before swaying off to the side and collapsing to the floor, dragging katsuki down with her

This has happened way more than Reader would like to admit. Because each sparring session always ends with Katsuki carrying Reader on his back. She does enjoy that tho. And katsuki doesn't mind it

LMAO katsuki falling with you like ?????

awweeuweduwfuw and he's shoving fruits in ur face and u KNOWWW that shit bothers him sm 😡😡 (he likes carrying u tho fsfs, probably flexes his muscles too like a whore)

[martiniluvr]

dick grayson if he was a song. I don’t make the rules

[thecapricunt1616]

Very First Time (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way. 

♡ Chapter Inspo: So High School - Taylor Swift ; "You know what you wanted & boy you got her" ♡ Summary: Based on ✩This✩ big brained ask from @carmenberzattosgf ♡ W/C: 9.4K ♡ Posted Date: 06/11/2024 ♡ A/N: Omg I had so much fucking fun writing this you have no idea!!! I hope this satisfies your virgin carmy tooth my dirty olive martini! Also, New look for this one shot how are we feeling yall? ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Characters are 18+, High school relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish'

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

2010

You had thought about this year at least monthly since … well - kindergarten. This was your year. 

Graduation year. 

4 decent years of high school were coming to a close. You were freshly 18 as of last week, and felt exactly the same. You actually felt worse now that your birthday had passed you by. Why? Oh. Virginity. Still having one, that thing. 

As far as you knew, all of your friends had lost theirs by now, well - you weren’t so sure. You’d think asking your longest time friend if they were also holding onto their precious dire to get rid of virginity cards as well would be easy, right? 

Wrong. Very wrong. 

This was because your bestest longest term friend? You’d been concealing a massive crush on him since sophomore year. Well, actually - technically 7th grade, when he saved your volcano from prematurely erupting by pouring borax in the hole from his project about borax crystallization after the nastiest girl in the grade dumped the cup of vinegar in it while you weren’t looking so it would explode prematurely while the teacher wasn’t watching and you’d get zero credit. 

But, you told yourself that he was just a really nice person like his sister who had babysat you a few times, so he’d probably heard about you from her and was simply being friendly. Nevertheless, the interaction made you fast friends. 

What sealed the deal to you being so close, though, was when a few days later one of the mean boys in the grade tried to make Carmy his newest victim by continually throwing pencils at the back of his head. He did this every class to someone new, and always while the teacher wasn’t looking. 

You had waited just until half a second before the pencil flew and  “Mrs.Harrison!” urgently left your lips, she quickly looked up, just in time to see the moron let the pencil go, it hit the back of Carmys head, and for Carmy send him a silent glare. 

“Jared! That’s a week of detention. It has been you with those pencils. I’m calling home too- this disruptive behavior is unacceptable!” She was so focused on writing out detention slips that she didn’t even remember you had grabbed her attention. Carmy gave you one of his shy close-mouthed smiles that made his adorable dimples show before going back to drawing some pair of cargo jean looking things on the inside of his notebook cover. 

This sealed your friendship because you had shown him your loyalty. You have my back, I have yours was always the mentality between you two. By the time you got to high school, you and Carmy were attached at the hip. In middle school, specifically in eighth grade, people would tease you two that you were dating. 

The both of you were late bloomers and hadn’t even thought about Carmy or anyone in that way yet, but by sophomore year of high school the teasing really hit home because you did have a crush on him but thought you were absolutely sure he could never like you back, that he saw you as a sister. 

Until one fateful June afternoon. 

You were laid on your full sized bed together in your childhood bedroom, flicking through a J-14 magazine to get all the latest gossip on the celebrities you follow when you settle on the Ask Sabrina page, a forum where a girl answers dating and love questions. 

Dear Sabrina, 

I was wondering - what age should you have your first kiss, French kiss, lose your virginity etc? I’m already 16 and I haven’t had sex yet, I had my first kiss at 14 and my first French kiss this year. But I feel like such a loser cause all my friends are having sex, and say it’s so much fun!! Is it really worth the hype? 

Jane from California

You roll your eyes. 16 and already had her first French kiss. She was 2 years ahead of you in that sense. You hadn’t had sex yet, either. You hadn’t really kissed a boy for real either. The only kiss you’d had to date was -

Ew! 

You had to rectify this situation immediately. The only kiss you’d had to date was Billy Guerrero? In fifth grade?! You couldn’t believe yourself. You’d let time slip away, you’d let your real first kiss prime time slip away. What guy is gonna want a girl at college who was gonna want to date a girl who can’t even kiss properly! You’d bet Carmy had kissed girls, hell he’d probably had sex already. With who you weren’t sure because the only person Carmy opened his mouth to give more then a muttered yes or no were you, and his direct family. 

Maybe it was with Claire down the street, she always seemed to you to be sweet on him. He would probably be better for him, anyway. If Mikey wasn’t teasing him about her being his girlfriend, he was teasing about you being his girlfriend. Each time he brought it up Carmy would go red as a tomato and tell him to shut up, and if Richie was around it would get even worse. 

You wondered if he liked it, why he didn’t tell you about it - wait - why hadn’t the two of you talked about sex? It wasn’t until this moment you’d realized you’d never breached the topic. You laid your magazine on your chest, flicking the cover of Carmys Spider-Man comic with your nail to get his attention from your position sprawled out over his thighs as your pillow. 

“Mm” he hums in response, blue eyes continuing to move across the page. That was something you always loved about Carmy, those large round blue eyes. You loved to tease him that he looked like Flik from bugs life. You’d done very intense studying of those eyes from your many intense staring contests over the summer breaks you two spent together, he would cheat to win, of course - but you liked having an excuse to look at his eyes, so you didn’t mind. 

“What was your first kiss like?” You test the waters. Without even realizing what you had done, he mirrored you and laid his open comic on his chest to hold his page so he could give you his full attention. 

“First kiss?” He repeats. You couldn’t believe how much better his stutter had gotten over last summer. He had told you he wanted it gone or at least as gone as he could get it by the time you went off to college, so the two of you checked out all the speech pathology books the library had to offer and got to work every day. It was hard work, but after about a month he got the hang of it. 

“Very first kiss, well - real kiss” you clarify and by nature he brushed away your bangs that had fallen in front of your eyes from the woosh of air that came from putting his comic down. 

“Uh- w-wh-“ he stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing really hard on what he was trying to say and a few seconds later he tries again “what’s a real kiss? Like a kiss that’s not just the back of my hand?” He joked and you snorted a chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Yes dummy like- like a real kiss on a date or something or like…I dunno have you ever had a girlfriend? Well, before you met me? Would a 6th grade girlfriend count?” You thought out loud. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before, and Carmy hadn’t said he was dating anyone and spent all of his time with you that wasn’t spent at home or at school, so you could safely assume he hadn’t, but just wanted to be sure. 

“n-no- no girlfriend uh- why do you ask?” He cleared his throat that way Richie did after he asked a question he knew was stupid and you shrugged a bit 

“So who have you kissed? Claire?” You ask and those big blue eyes go wide as saucers as he shakes his head no like a bobble head 

“What - what?! W-why why would you think I kissed Claire? Claire- Claire Dunlap? from down the street?” He clarified, his cheeks heating up

“Woah! Do you have a crush on her?” You sat up and he groaned, rubbing over his face dramatically. 

“Squiiish. Not you too” he groaned dramatically. “No! I don’t like Claire! Actually to be f-fucking honest everyone always trying to cram her down my throat makes me hate her!” He huffed 

“Well then who have you kissed! A real kiss!?” You question with a laugh, unsure why he was being so secretive over something so small. The two of you could vote in the next election for Christ sake, a kiss shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“No one!” He blurts, the heat from his cheeks bleeding up to the tips of his ears and down his neck and collarbones. “There. Ok! No one and I sure as fuck didn’t kiss Claire Dunlap.” He crossed his arms, averting your gaze. You were sat there, just staring. You were frankly trying to absorb that, it was surprising to you with such a stud of an older brother - he hadn’t gotten around. 

“Me either” you said after a few beats of silence and his eyes quickly found yours again, mouth dropping slightly and he blinked a few times, the way that told you he was trying to digest what you were saying. 

“Y-you haven’t kissed Claire-“

“Anyone” you interrupted. His jaw dropped like a trout as he stared at you in shock and you grabbed your magazine, rolling it up and bonking him on the head with it.  “Don’t look at me like that! You haven’t kissed anyone either! I technically have you beat because I kissed Billy G. at recess in fifth grade once even though it was just like… a mom kiss you know like a- like” you demonstrate a little puckery peck of your lips. 

His eyes narrowed with jealousy and you smiled proudly “Squish, one - Bear? Zero” that was one thing about you two, you were always in a competition of some kind. Who could run farther, who could read a book faster, who could get their homework done first, you never realized it translated into other things too, and that neither of you were in the lead. 

“I bet I’m better then you at kissing even though I haven’t done it I’ve practiced more so I’m good when it’s time for me to show my skill” he smirked, picking up his comic again. You scoffed 

“Practice? On what, your bathroom mirror? It doesn’t count if it’s not a person, dummy.” You said and he shrugged 

“Find out” he said casually, eyes not tearing up from the page. Now it was your cheeks that felt like they were on fire. Find out?! Find out what, does he even realize what he’s offering you right now?! 

“Find out? What- you want to kiss me?” You said and he smirked a bit, dimples showing and his eyes flick back to yours. 

“It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way. 

But now he was just offering like it was his apple he didn’t want at lunch.  

“French or regular?” You ask, trying to play it cool and the astonished look on his face led you to cackle, shoving his shoulder “what?! Stop looking at me like that weirdo!” You said and he smiled, shaking his head and doing one of those slow Carmy blinks as he sighs, a little smirk on his lips. He always reminded you of Natalie when he did that, he must have gotten it from her. 

“You want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?” He mused and you nod

“I actually think it goes both ways- and with 0 practice I’d win. Sure of it.” You said cockily and shrugged a bit. He snorts a chuckle

“And how do we determine a winner?” He asked, shutting his comic and resting it on the nightstand next to your bed like he was genuinely weighing the offer in his mind. 

You were quiet for a few moments, looking at him carefully - and it seemed like he was serious as you were, so you said “It’s supposed to feel good, right? So…whoever like..moans first?” 

“Uh o-okay- okay sure um.” He swallowed thickly, wiping his hands on his jeans that you assumed were clammy now how they got when he was nervous. “So- how- how do you wanna like- sit,” he asked. Fuck. You were just now realizing you weren’t actually sure. Your heart was thumping so hard in your chest, blood was roaring in your ears. This was all going so fast - you were going to do it. You were going to kiss your crush. 

“Uh-“ you said stupidly, tucking your hair behind your ears and digging your chapstick out of your pocket, cause guys like soft cherry flavored lips, right? If he was kissing you for a stupid competition you may as well make it good. “Yeah um. I think, maybe criss cross? Right? Like how we would play sailer by the sea” you crossed your legs and sat in front of him 

“We should play later I’ve been practicing with nat - I’m totally gonna beat you” he crossed his legs, and you moved in closer so your knees were touching but your faces were still about 2 feet apart, too big a distance for a kiss. “Also- we’re gonna need to be closer” he said plainly. You snorted a laugh,

“Yes - we can play. How am I supposed to get closer?” You asked, and in one fluid motion he stuck his hands under your calves, and uncrossed your legs before dragging you forward quickly and wrapping your legs around his waist. You could feel his breath. 

“There” he looks at you, eyes fanning from your eyes to your lips and back again. “That’s ok, right?” The low softness of his voice, mixed with the action of him just taking control how he did - it sent this feeling down to your core that felt so good. Like a pleasureful pulsing heartbeat, the only time you got that feeling was when you were alone in bed at night squeezing your thighs together thinking about Carmy. 

“Mmhmm” you hummed, unsure what to do with your hands so you settled for placing them on your thighs. “So- uh- ok. I guess um..let’s get started?” Your voice was small, nervous. A definite switch of roles for the two of you. You weren’t sure if this was normal, but you assumed it was for Carmy. 

He was being so normal about it, the same normal he was when you got your period at his house - he just went to Natalie’s bathroom, and came back to the guest bathroom with a few pads and tampons for you, as well as feminine wipes - normal. Not weird, like this happens every day for him. Like - periods (or in this case) sex isn’t the most embarrassing thing to teen life. His chill demeanor told you that he strictly saw it as a platonic friendly competition, so why do your panties feel sticky all the sudden?

“It’s ok- we don’t have to-“ he’s interrupted by your lips on his, 

Now or never, right? 

It was warm, a little messy at first, you found out quickly you should close your eyes since he closed his and once you did it was much easier to just focus on the sensation. His lips were soft, he tasted like the bowl of trix cereal he must have had before he came over. The way his lips moved with yours was… gentle, sweet, unhurried- you found yourself chasing them when he pulled away slightly and that caused you to open your eyes 

“You-“ he huffs a small chuckle “you have t’kiss back, Squish. S’like i’m kissing a wall here” he said. You took a shaky breath, not even realizing you were just sat there like a dead fish, unmoving, in awe that his lips were really on yours. If you hadn’t just finished your period a week ago you’d be scrambling to the bathroom to see what was going on because you were gushing. 

“Uh- sorry- sorry. I was just warming up” you clear your throat awkwardly, fingers tapping on your thighs nervously “lets try again” you said, leaning in and additionally mashing your nose with his “ow- oh- gosh, sorry” you giggle and he followed suit 

“S’not your fault my beak is getting in the way” he joked, gently tilting your face and bringing his lips back to yours. You got the message this time, moving your lips with his and wow. It felt…good. That heartbeat right above your cunt had never pulsed so hard before, it nearly hurt and you weren’t sure what to do about it with him right there. 

You’d usually use the firm corner of one of your throw pillows you kept on your bed when this uncomfortable sensation happened, thinking of exactly this - kissing Carmy - and hump it, and hump it, and hump it, until you were frustrated to tears because you still felt like you weren’t finished. That the feeling would never go away unless you stopped thinking about Carmy like that - but it was addictive, and you couldn’t help but think you were chasing something. 

It all elevated when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, it was almost like the sensation in your core was beginning to travel throughout your entire body and that had never happened before. It went from just that strong pulsing in your cunt, travelling to a tightness that was winding up in your stomach, your breasts felt good - as strange as that thought was, the only time you remembered they were there was when they were sore because your period was coming, so the warm gushy feeling in your chest and the pangs of pleasure that were coursing through you from the simple swipe of his tongue was something to be revered.

From there, it was like you were following a script you hadn’t even known you’d memorized. Your hands found his shoulders, before travelling to the back of his neck and rubbing over the little curls at the base. You swipe your tongue over his, fingers sprawling over the back of his head to pull him in closer. You didn’t know what came over you, but you deepened the kiss, and he accepted. His hands found the back of your waist, squeezing gently and trailing up your sides, stopping hard below your breasts.

You pulled away, looking at him. If it was any other day, he’d have thought you were initiating a staring contest, but the blown-out look in your eyes and small pants leaving your lips reminded him of when their family cat had a little too much catnip and started climbing the screen doors, wild. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when the next question left your lips 

“Have you had sex before?” your voice was breathy, if you had known better you’d have called it for what it was - horny. The only thing on your mind was Carmy, not how your mom would be home any minute and you forgot to take out the chicken for dinner, not how it probably isn’t a normal thing for best friends or any friends really, to kiss. But you and Carmy hadn’t really ever been ‘normal’ friends. 

“Uhhh” he tried to find his words. He looked so pretty. His cheeks were the pretty flush pink you loved on him so much, it suited him. His lips were swollen and kiss bitten and red. You realized that the glossiness on them was a mixture of your salivas and that brought a burst of that delicious warmth to your chest. “N-no, haven’t have you- I mean- can you have sex without kissing?” he wondered out loud.

“I don’t want to leave high school a virgin” you blurt out. It was half true, you did feel a bit like a loser, even though you could always lie and tell people you had done it even if you hadn’t. It also felt like the one opportunity was presenting itself for you to have sex with your childhood crush and if he agreed, then a win is a win in your book.

“Alright and- and uh” he sits back on the headboard, huffing a chuckle and rubbing over his mouth as he thought, staring up at the ceiling to try and get a gauge on what he was about to say. It was one of the habits he’d picked up during all of your speech practice together, it was cute, almost like he was stopping the words from falling out of his mouth before he was ready to say them so it didn’t come out all jumbly and stuttered. “And you wan’t help with this- i’m assuming you see it as a problem? Thats why you brought it up, right? You want help with that…issue” he mused. 

Suddenly, you felt really, really shy. Shy, stupid, flustered, any synonym for embarrassed and feeling like a complete and utter moron. “I shouldn’t have said anything - i’m sorry, uh- you win” You got up, going over to your dresser and digging out your after-school clothes to change since you were in jeans still. Why the hell would you say that? What, was he gonna just offer to have sex with y-

“I-I mean- I don’t want to, either. I just uh- haven’t… y’know - met anyone who I trusted enough to do it with. But- it- it felt good… the kiss? So, if you wanted we could um..cause- cause I trust you, I trust you more then like…anyone- so, yeah- I-I mean it’s like- like a favor right? You uh…scratch my back- er whatever the saying is- if- if you want to” you looked back at him to see him rambling with his gaze locked on the floor, clearly feeling as stupid and embarrassed as you feel. 

Holy shit, this may actually happen. 

“Yeah- yeah” you agree, mulling it over in your mind. He’s right, this shouldn’t change your friendship, because from what you’d heard - losing said virginity wasnt fun, it was weird, uncomfortable, and a little gross sometimes, so it was almost like you two could get the awkward first time part out of the way together so you could both hit the ground running in terms of dating and hooking up when it came to college, cause that's what college was supposed to be all about, right? Finding the love of your life?

“Sure- Uh-” you swallow thickly and toss him one of the many pairs of sweatpants he kept in your dresser for when he slept over as well as a fresh t-shirt and grab yourself a clean pair of panties from your top drawer since although the awkwardness had taken away that dull needy ache, you were still uncomfortably wet and had to get yourself cleaned up and changed. “How about Friday? My parents have their date night so- you could come over after school and we can um…do it?” you ask and he nodded quickly, grabbing the sweatpants and sweatshirt.

“Yeah- perfect, that’s - mmhmm” he swallowed hard, cheeks bright red. You would totally be making fun of him right now if you weren’t absolutely sure you looked just as flustered, the two of you sharing at eachother in silence like a pair of deer in headlights. 

“I’m gonna go change” you said and left the room, closing the bathroom door behind you and sighing deeply to yourself, leaning against the door. 

And so it was set. 

Carmy had exactly 3 days to study up on this topic other than sophomore health class he knew absolutely nothing about. Well- he had found one of Michaels Playboy magazines before when he was 14, it was the first time he popped a boner and it freaked him out so bad since his father wasn’t very present and Mike hadn’t given him the talk yet. It was a solid 2 months of worrying that he had some weird dick cancer because he got hard every time he peeked through said porn-mag before he asked Mike about it, and he still hasn’t lived down the teasing. Thank god Mike kept his word on not telling Richie.

The moment he left your house that day it was straight to the Chicago public library. 3 books, 3 days. He was going to do his homework on this, because he was going to win the game he knew was inevitably pun intended coming his way. It was going to become a competition, and he knew the name of the game in sex was an orgasm, he knew that much at least, thank god. 

The 3 titles he’d settled on, 

Sex For Dummies ; He’d figured that should speak for itself, it sounded to him like the beginners guide to fucking. He wondered why every teen didn’t get a copy of this book, he’d heard guys talking about how sometimes girls are really bad in bed - so if everyone got one, like the dictionaries they all got in elementary school - he thought their lives would probably be made easier in that department.

She Comes First; and boy, was that a read. He stayed up so late Wednesday night reading it that you had to wake him in homeroom when the bell rang to go to first period. He didn’t know there were so many things to know about a vagina, but he was confident now he probably knew more then any guy in the school about pussys and what gets them going at least on paper once he read all 350 pages in one day.

He comes next; It made alot of sense. This was the breaziest read for him, he sat on the L after school reading it on the ride home. Of course, the front was covered in a brown paper bag he’d taped to it so no one could tell what he was reading, he wasn't a pervert! He was glad he read she comes first, first, because he’d learned that girls can cum more then once, and that when they do - it gets better each time. He also learned that the clit is the best part to touch, and that it actually has like- a tail? Or something? Inside that you can mess with too, and it feels super good for the girl. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find something like that with his dick, but he guessed he’d figure it out.

The day was finally here. You had been thinking about it all week long. The prep you were doing was very different then the prep he was. You were making sure your entire body was smooth, plucking your eyebrows, waxing your upper lip, whitening your teeth, shaving your big toe. Literally, anything and everything grooming. You had put on a lacy pink thong that you’d gotten at the mall a year or so ago in preparation for the night you finally did this, but after observing yourself in the mirror you felt insecure about it. It was just Carmy, he wasn’t into you, it would be weird if you tried to be sexy, right? Like you were trying to seduce him or something? So you settled on some plain grey panties, instead, and a black bra. 

You heard a knock at the door right at 7. Exactly on time, per usual. Your parents had left for their date 20 minutes ago, so it was perfect timing. When you opened the door, you heart may as well have melted and poured out of your ass to see Carmy standing there with a bundle of red roses. “Hey- uh- so - got you these” he thrust them in your direction. They were already cut, and thornless, ready to be plopped in a vase. You could see a little bandage on the pinky finger of his non-dominant hand that wasn’t there at school today, he must have pricked himself while he was trimming them up. 

“Y’get a girl flowers, you trim em’ up, n’for the roses gotta take the thorns off, eh’? Don’t wan’t t’hurt ylady do you? And you trim ‘em cause girls like it, makes em’ all even n’shit. N’it Makes em’ live longer too. Y’givin a gift not a chore heard? Flowers need to be able to be dropped in a vase and that's it, otherwise y’re a prick f’givin’ y’r lady a job t’do” Mikey explained as he snipped the thorns off of the roses he’d gotten for his date. The conversation stuck with Carmy all these years, he promised himself one day he’d put the advice to use.

“Oh- wow - Bear, these are like -” you leaned in, smelling them deeply, the sweet floral sense filling your nose “Wow- this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to” you stepped back and opened the door wider. He followed you in, shutting the door behind him like usual.

“Mikey says it’s what y’do I guess, so - expect flowers from guys you do this with” he nudged you with his shoulder playfully. The action made your heart flutter but also stomach sink , heavy with nerves. Right. He’s here to just get something over with, like he was probably expecting you to be and the flowers were just a result of him wanting to do things right and not because he had any real, tangible feelings for you other than platonic.

“Mmm, will do. Thanks- I’m gonna go get these in some water, you can get settled” you told him and headed into the kitchen to find a vase. When you came back to the room his hoodie was neatly folded and sitting on your desk, his shoes tucked away beneath it and there was a… towel? On your bed? 

“Uh-” you set the vase of flowers on your dresser 

“Right- uh- so the towel, they say in the books for your first time, sometimes girls will bleed a little? Or- or if I do it right things can get really wet, so…just trying to be proactive I didn’t wanna make a huge mess y’know?” he explained while staring at the towel and rubbing the back of his neck nervously how he did, heat creeping across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks.

“You…studied?” you smile a bit at the idea. You wondered how he did so, did he just watch porn?! You had heard from girls with boyfriends that watch porn - the sex was usually bad, and that they went way to hard and fast. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Yeah I read some stuff.. How else will I know what the fuck m’doin?” he watched you as you sat down on top of the towel, assuming that was the spot he meant for you. 

“Uh- yea…yeah. Ok, well thanks- I guess I should have studied, too. Didn’t even think about it- my legs are soft, though. And I shaved my - um- yeah.” you said, voice getting meeker and smaller by the end. The two of you were never like this, it was usually constant banter and comfortable silence. Awkwardness wasnt something the two of you experienced together up until now.

“Thank you- you didn’t have to it’s…it’s just hair. But um…go pee, before we get started- you should pee.” he sat down on the bed in front of you. You looked at him confused, brows furrowing together but before you could ask he added “In the books, they said for girls - it can feel like…like you need to pee, right before the good part if I do it right. So, if I do do it right- I want you to be able to finish instead of worrying if you’ll pee on me, so I figured if you go pee now then-” you held your hand up, shaking your head as you stood.

“No further info needed” you said as you padded off to the bathroom. Even though the shower you had taken not even an hour prior to him coming over was so thorough made you fresh as the day you were born you still wiped up with babywipes before coming back to see 2 granola bars and 2 bottles of water on the nightstand. “Are you planning on making me pass out or something?” you joked, sitting back on the towel like before. 

He chuckled a bit “Well if i’m that good my first time it’ll be a record or something I bet” he rubbed his forearm nervously “So um..should we kiss? Like last time?” he asked, averting your gaze. You didn’t know this, but he thought he was genuinely about to have a heart attack, and the only reason he was continuing instead of asking you to call an ambulance was because if he was to die in your bed while making out because of the sheer excitement that came with the potential of you touching his dick, he would have died happy. 

The question being asked in that soft, sweet tone of his- syrupy and honest, made your stomach flip- and there was a pang of warmth to your heat that made your heart jump to your throat with anticipation. You couldn’t answer, instead, you just nodded, not breaking his gaze. Jesus fucking Christ those eyes. You had only seen the ocean once, in Hawaii on a vacation. His eyes made you think of the waters in Maui, that was how blue. You could get lost in them like they were the ocean, they often rendered you speechless, like he could peer into your soul. “Okay” he said gently.

This time, the kisses started small. He gently pecked the corner of your lips, before you remembered that yes you had a job to do here as well, and you put your hand gently on the side of his cheek, barely touching him. He could feel you shaking, so he put his hand over yours, gently squeezing your four fingers as his lips captured yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The feeling was so…different then last time. This time felt much more purposeful, and not in the get it over with way, in the i’ve been meaning to do this, way.

Honestly, the feeling made you dizzy. Not dizzy in the kind of way that immediately made you want to throw up, -

 (Carmy learned you got very motion sick very quick at your 15th birthday party when he, Mike, Natalie, and Richie were teaching you how to play dead-man on the trampoline and within 10 seconds of being bounced with your eyes closed by the 4 of them you were scrambling to throw up a mix of cake and pasta) 

- but dizzy in the way that you weren't forming any kind of memory of the encounter, and you also weren’t sure what you were doing - but you came to with your shirt off, dry humping your best friend as he laid sprawled over your floral duvet panting into each others mouths as your childhood teddybear watched the two of you manhandle eachother, he honestly looked like he was judging, but you mentally told him to fuck off.

“Yeah-” he breathed, his cheeks were a pretty pink, his pupils “I-I think that was um…better then last time. Do you feel hot? I feel hot” he admitted, swallowing hard as you both caught your breath. You looked down and oh, yeah - he's still fully dressed. You were still mostly dressed, too. Well, your shirt - you hadn’t a clue where it went, but your fluffy pajama pants were still suffocating your thighs and holy shit..

He is hard as a rock against your clothed pussy right now. 

You look back up at him, and nod in agreement. “Feels like - wow- yeah. Uh- m’hot” you got up and saw the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans. “Uh- so…” you trail off 

“I think i’m supposed to do that part” he sat up, taking his shirt off in that silly boyish way with one fluid motion pulling it up over the back of his head, his sandy blonde hair becoming ruffled by the action. You look over his chest, not even bothering to not stare. That was the point of this whole thing right, to experience? In turn, he crossed his arms shyly, to be expected. Carmy had been open about his upset that he got more of his moms genes then his dads. He was short, softer-jawed, smaller-lipped, and bigger-eyed, the only thing he got was the big Italian Berzatto nose. 

His brother was tall, much broader, was able to grow a full face of stubble by 17. Carmy was still patchy, but he was proud of his little patch of curly brown hair in the middle of his chest. Mike kept telling him he would ‘grow like a weed’ as soon as he turned 20, he didn’t believe it, though. 

“Oh- yea? Thats what they said in your sex books” you teased and stepped forward, between his spread thighs, likely to give his dick breathing room. His hands found your hips as he snorted a chuckle 

“Shut up” he smiled and carefully pulled down the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “I did read…” he helped you step out of them, hands trailing up the backs of your now bare thighs. The action made goosebumps appear on your flesh, nearly made you shiver. “That you are supposed to cum first, it’s like…a warm up.” he explained, looking up at you as he made his way to hold your hips again. You realized quickly, that his hands were also trembling, and he kept stroking and petting you hoping you wouldn’t notice as much. 

Your panties had a dark spot on them that he became fixated on momentarily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt that twitching at his words, your hole clenching around absolutely nothing. You weren’t sure you could remember what color the sky was if someone asked at that moment, you were so focused on Carmy, it was like you two and this bedroom were the only things in the universe. “I haven’t been able to do it, I don’t think you’ll be able to - but you can try. How do you want to do this should I just lay down and I dunno… you stick it in? I got 3 boxes of condoms, different kinds just in case” you went to open your nightstand and he stopped you, grabbing your hand. 

He chuckled a bit, you took it as a you don’t know what you’re doing, let me explain kind of laugh, but really he was just wondering how the following words came out of his mouth “I’m supposed to eat your pussy, could I try?” 

You swore your knees went weak. Carmen, Carmen Berzatto wanted to go down on you. Thank god you made sure that department was taken care of so well in preparation. “Uhhh- alright” you sat down on the towel, twiddling your fingers nervously “So- wow uh” you giggle nervously, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“Your um..you look pretty, by the way” he said while looking at the duvet. He sounded as nervous as he was when he said that. He had thought you looked pretty from the moment he walked through the door, but was too nervous until you were both literally almost naked to say it. You could hardly believe it, because you did your best to not put in a ton of effort. Sure, you were very well groomed, but you didnt like - dress up or put makeup on or do your hair how you would have wanted, you were in regular bra and panties, and pajamas when he walked in. You were also pretty sure that you had a zit growing on your chin and really hoped he hadn’t noticed.

But, that was exactly why he thought you looked so pretty. He loved that you let him have you like this, well - in both senses. He felt so lucky to be able to see you comfortable, in your element. “Thanks, dork, so do you get the honors of taking my panties too?” you teased. That was the difference between you, when you got nervous you cracked jokes and made fun of him to ease the tension in your own mind  - when he got nervous he often got lost in the tension of his own mind causing him to go quiet. 

“I do actually, says the book- so lay down” he shoots back in the same teasing tone, a small smile gracing his lips once again. You, and his brother were the only 2 that could pull him out of his head so fast, and so easily. You shook your head, laying back on the pillows he’d set up and spreading your legs, laying your feet flat on the bed. He sat in front of you, running a hand up your leg and feeling over the soft, smooth skin. “You are really soft” he muttered, almost to himself, feeling up your thigh “Do you mind if I kiss you, here?” he asked gently, running a palm over the inner of your thigh. No one had ever touched you there, so the action made you shiver since the area was surprisingly sensitive.

“Sure” you said quietly, watching his every move with wide, curious eyes. You were sure the wet spot on your panties had grown tremendously due to the way you felt dripping down the curve of your ass, thank god for that towel when they come off or my sheets would probably soak through by the end of this. He started at your ankle, leaving gentle pecks and putting your manicured foot on his shoulder as he continued his journey of kissing up your shin, over your knee, not leaving a single part unkissed. If this is what sex was about, you totally got why all your friends were raving about it, because you were being driven absolutely wild and it hadn’t even really started yet. 

He kissed up to your thigh, laying down in between your legs. His forearms were wrapped around the plush of your thighs, hugging them as he left kisses over the waistband of your panties. The action made your stomach muscles clench at how good he was making you feel. You needed something to touch you, though. That was the only thing on your mind, but before you could ask - he beat you to it. “Would you be ok with me kissing your middle here?” his voice was husky, breathy. He was gripping your thighs so his hands wouldn't shake, he was fucking panting like he just ran the mile in P.E. and he wasn’t sure why. 

His mouth was watering at the smell of you, he had to fucking swallow a mouthful of spit before he could say something. He felt like a fucking starved animal, but he was gathering every polite, gentlemanly fiber of his being to remain kind, gentle. “Please do” you said and without hesitation, he was essentially making out with your cunt through your panties. The sight was filthy, but so sexy it was making your head spin. 

Whines and moans were leaving your throat you weren’t even aware of as you watch him, slack jawed and sucking at the fabric of your panties, grunting and moaning at the flavor. “T-take em off…please-” you weren’t sure where the bedroom voice that came out of you came from, but he seemed to like it at the way his eyes rolled and fluttered shut at the way you were begging for him to eat you out. 

He sat up just enough to get your panties pulled off, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans before laying back down and resuming his position. “Taste so, so good, squish, better than I imagined” he said before kissing your mound. The wet clicking sound of your pussy clenching at his words made heat rush your cheeks in embarrassment, but it made his dick twitch against his jeans. “Can I kiss your clit?” he asked, the casualness of his tone made your head fall back on the pillow, covering your face with embarrassed hands at the vulgarity of it all.

“Go ahead, Bear” you said, smile lacing your voice. 

“I liked it when you were lookin’ at me, just so you know” he said, spreading you out with his fingers and looking for just a moment, he found it easily as it had grown nearly twice it’s size, peeking out of its hood. He attached his lips to it, just like the book he’d read said to do, and lightly sucked, before flicking his tongue lightly over it. Your hand clamps over your mouth to stifle the cry that left your throat, hips jerking and you grab his hair with your other hand, not even meaning to but tugging. 

This caused a moan to leave his throat, which in turn caused his lips to vibrate, and you looked down at him, vision hazy like a dream at the sensation. “God- oh god- feels so good Bear - wow- you’re so good at this” you said, breath heavy and jaw slack “uh-huh” you whine when he pads his tongue over your clit in wide, wet drags. The sounds his mouth was making as he sucked and kissed and lapped at your juices were absolute sin, the hottest shit you’d ever heard. 

“D’you like it more when I kiss your clit like I was doin’ or when I run my tongue on it like that?” he asked, sucking at your folds and nose nudging your clit as he waited for an answer. 

“Both - Both- everything feels good - you feel so good” you praised, pushing his bangs from his face. He smiled into you proudly, continuing to lick, and suck, and swirl his tongue. It had been a knot building for a while, and it had been about 30 minutes of him doing this, when you felt it. But, all the activities you’d been engaged in the conversation you had before you started slipped your mind. “Fuck- fuck - sorry- I gotta pee” you told him and tried to tug him off

“Y’dont, trust me, just trust me” he said determined, he had told himself before going into this that if he could make you cum, that it would be his prize because per the books he’d read one of the main complaints with women was that their male partners didn’t bother to be sure they finished, so if you never wanted to do this again - he’d pride himself internally forever on be the very first man to ever make you cum. 

You whined, back arching to the ceiling and hips dipping back into the bed. You didn’t want him to stop, so you weren’t sure why you were subconsciously trying to wiggle away. Your eyes had been closed for a few moments, and you felt a hand on your stomach, dancing fingers following it. You opened them to see him looking up at you, and his eyes flicker to his hand that was laying palm up on your belly before meeting your gaze again, in a silent ask for you to hold his hand. 

Without thinking, you did so, needing to be grounded in that moment. His thumb rubbed soothing strokes on the back of your hand as he built up the speed of his tongue, running it back and forth and up and down, flicking it, sucking on the sensitive nub until your brain turned to mush, and stars filled your vision. 

“Carmy Carmy- Oh shit- Yes” 

The grand finale only lasted about a minute or two, but by the end your thighs were shaking and you were gasping for breath. “Y’need to breathe, did you forget humans need oxygen to live?” he teased. You’d usually give him a light punch on the shoulder for that, but your whole body felt like warm jelly. 

“Shut up” you pant, looking down when you feel your clit twitching every few moments “I think you broke it its like.. Having a seizure or something” you said and you both burst into giggles. After a few moments of comfortable quiet you nudge him with your foot “Hey” he looks up at you “Its your turn now” you said and his brows raised

“Y-you don’t have t’do that, that was sex, so - congratulations we are both not virgins” he wiped his chin on the inside of his arm and sat up. You furrowed your brow

“No- I want to, I can make you cum, too ” you said, in your mind, it was a challenge - and when it came out of your mouth you realized how it sounded.

“Are you… asking me for permission to suck my dick?” he looked at you carefully. Shyly, you just nod. For whatever reason the nature of the room and this particular situation had the two of you acting out of traditional character roles, and he was the one being bold. “I want you to say it, then you can suck my dick” he said and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and looking at you, brows raised expectantly as he waited for you to do as he asked.

Your throat suddenly felt dry, and you were starting to drip on that damn towel again. “Bear, I wanna suck your cock, Can I please?” you asked, tone innocent yet laced with a confident determination. His breath got caught in his throat, you swore his eyes could have fallen out. He didn’t know the word cock was apart of your very colorful vocabulary, he could have creamed his boxers with the way that the word rolled off of your tongue. 

“Sure” he said all too casual and tugged off his jeans, kicking them to the side. He laid down with you, like how he was while you were making out and you got on your knees tugging the waistband of his boxers until his cock came out and kissed his navel, the tip glistening with pre. 

“So-” you look at it, mouth watering at the sight. You had never done this, but you were sure that you knew one thing for sure, Carmy had a really pretty cock. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he said 

“S’not gonna suck itself, squish.” 

Oh, right, that was what you were doing. You grab it and he hissed “Fuckin’ hell- y’tryna rip it off? A little nicer, please” he chuckled a bit and you felt your cheeks heat, loosening your grip. 

“Sorry…” you said sheepishly, bending over and licking the tip of it, one slow drag from the back of your tongue to the tip of it, flicking your tongue over the slit your nose scrunching slightly at the new flavor. The action though, had Carm seeing stars and his toes curling.

“Hhhhnnn- oh my fucking god” he rasped. You figured that was a good thing, so you did it again “Squish I-” and again, “yes- fuck” and again, “Squish i-i’m gonna mmmmmffff” he whined, his cock twitching in your hand and leaking pre in a near continuous drip. You had no expirience, so you had no idea what this meant, or that he was trying to warn you. With 3 more slow sensual ball to tip licks, he was shooting cum all over your nose, upper lip, tongue, and chin. You squeak in surprise, sitting up and licking your lips. “Oh- hmmmmfuck- gimme a sec” he groaned, taking over for you and stroking himself, the remainder of his load shooting over his stomach. 

You watched in awe as he got himself off, back lightly arched and head fallen back, eyes closed as sexy pants and moans left his lips, along with soft “fuck - thank you, thank you” It was literally the hottest thing you had ever seen. He stopped after a moment, finding his breath and looking up at you, when he saw your milky white chin it both made his softening dick twitch and drew a chuckle from him. “When I keep saying im gonna do something and my dick is leaking like a broken sink it means open up er get out of the splash zone” he joked and grabbed his shirt, wiping your chin and neck. 

You laughed, laying back down and sighing contently. “Noted for next time” you said and he fixed his boxers, sitting up and stroking your calf. 

“There can be a next time? I mean…. I was hoping so that was really fun, felt really good” he said and you nod, smiling a bit 

“Sure, I mean, yeah… but it doesn’t mean we stop like- doing friend stuff, right?” you questioned. As much fun as you had, you could never give up something as treasured as your friendship for something as trivial as sex. 

“Oh, absolutely, who else is gonna wait w’me to get the new spiderman comics? And whos gonna feed you when your parents are out of town?” he teased and you rolled you eyes playfully, smiling and shaking your head. 

“Love you, dork” you bit your lip as he brought your other ankle to his lips.��

“Love y’too, Squish. Can I?” he looked down at your glistening core, before back at you. You bit your lip lightly, you weren’t sure if all men were this enthusiastic about eating pussy - but you were thankful that he was because your mind was still swimming from the last time and you had to experience it again. 

“Mmhmm” you spread your legs wider for him and he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he got to work. You had found quickly that when you tell him something feels good or he’s doing a good job that it really got him going. It was cute, truly, how he loved being praised, so you made sure to do it whenever you could get something out that wasn't a babbled, coherent mess since the pleasure he was providing was causing your brain to short circuit.

An hour and a half and 3 orgasms later, after about 10 minutes of trying to catch your breath and cool down since you were boiling from the blood coursing your system like an F1 racetrack, you sit up. “M’gonna go get cleaned up” you said, going to get up on wobbly legs.

“No! No, I got it lay down don’worry” he said and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with babywipes and a wet wash cloth, as well as a dry clean towel to wipe off with after. He helped you wipe up and knowing your bedroom by heart, he went over to your dresser and got you a fresh set of panties and a tshirt, as well as a pair of his sweatpants so you could both be comfortable. After you had both gotten dressed, he laid in your bed after bringing the towel downstairs to the wash for you both as well as your dirty clothes, and you cuddled into his chest as you turned on your little tv, playing the next episode of Glee and he hands you a granola bar after being sure you had a few sips of water to replenish.

“To no longer being virgins, hm?” he smiled a bit, holding his bar up in a silly idea of a toast. You tap yours to his with a grin

“To no longer being virgins”

Part 2 here