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joelsgreys · 6 months

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strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

#tw daddy kink #tw: daddy kink #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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hazbin-writings-and-musings · 3 months

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Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Smutty Headcanons

I promised on this LM x Reader post things would get spicy soon, so here we are, coming so far from my first post! Just the first of probably many more smutty Lucifer posts, because we all know this man fucks and we all want a piece.

Warnings: SMUT

- This man legitimately loves everything about eating pussy. He loves performing it, he loves bragging about how well he performs it, he loves giving tips because he believes in respecting the craft, and he loves putting down anyone too entitled to provide what he sees as this most enjoyable of services for one's partner. You don't even have to ask him to go down on you, it'll be one of the first things he offers, and he'll regularly ask if you're interested in letting off a little steam. Having the ability to extend and shapeshift his tongue into having an opposable forked tip makes him capable of techniques beyond your wildest fantasies, and whether you like to receive from above or below, he's equally down to have you seated on his face or laying back to enjoy yourself.

- He's not poorly or overly endowed for a man of his size, but he's also quite literally the one who originally proved that size doesn't matter in the slightest, and he's had thousands of years to perfect those original techniques. From position to tempo, he's mastered everything he needs to hit the G-spot with impeccable accuracy, and his hands will be quite busy seeking out where you most enjoy attention as he rides you with the power and virility of an untamed stallion. All this combined results in a mind blowing time for you, every time, and he's got the stamina to answer all of your repeated requests for another round.

- Nevermind the magic he can work with his tongue or his dick, the King of Hell is also a wizard with his fingers. He's even got a carpal tunnel roller just to keep his dexterity in top shape for when his skills are needed. Finding your clit is effortless for him, and he'll show it all the love he thinks you deserve, responding eagerly to your feedback in the moment and putting his mouth to use on your neck as he does so. Whether you want him inside, outside or both at the same time, he's happy to provide, and he'll gladly push his wrists to the limit if it leaves you properly satisfied.

- If you offer to be the one servicing him, he'll happily accept, and you'll quickly find his mannerisms shift quite considerably when he's on the receiving end. He starts out confident, offering banter to match your own, but as soon as your mouth gets to work, his demeanor changes. A grin becomes an open mouthed moan, his hands tenderly take hold of you to ground himself, and witty quips turn to soft and needy sighs. The more heated things get, the more he loses himself, but it's a great way for you to gauge how well you're performing. Growls and an appearance of his horns are a sign he's really having a good time, especially considering he's always got steam to blow off. Particularly rough days will result in him losing all control by climax; fully extended wings and horns, an unfurled tail he wraps about you, hair disheveled and clinging to a fine layer of sweat, and more than a few reality bending bursts of power surging around the both of you. It's his favorite way to end the day on a good note. He'll pull his fingers from your hair as he breathlessly apologizes for the show, but the both of you know watching him go feral is part of the fun.

- The afterglow is peak cuddle time for him, and he'll be in no hurry to get dressed if there's somewhere either of you needs to be, so more than a few of his duties will end up delayed thanks to post-coital bliss. All six wings will seek you out for a fluffy embrace, and if the two of you are at all winded, the otherworldly softness of Archangel feathers might make staying awake quite impossible. Should you have some energy to spare though, he'll want to actively enjoy the snuggle. Hearing you breathe, feeling his skin against yours, and engaging in pillow talk just make him the happiest little guy. Such moments really allow him to let his guard down, and you might hear him speak with a softness and hopefulness that rarely leaves the bedroom, but he's just as interested in listening as he is in talking. Don't be too surprised if he drifts off with his head in your boobs though.

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norrizzandpia · 8 months

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This Is About Oscar?! (OP81)

Summary: Y/n’s new song exposes a side of Oscar no one knew about.

Warnings: the whole thing is basically just about sex, language

y/nnn Surprise! 34+35 out tonight 💗

Comments:

oscarpiastri i think its pretty good

- y/nnn you only think that for one reason and we both know it

Liked by oscarpiastri

oscpastry guys… 34+35= 69……..

- mclarensgirly i fear we are getting the WHOLE story

- pieasstree YOU FEAR??? I WANNA KNOW

- mclarensgirly I MEAN ME TOO BUT HOW WILL WE LOOK BABY OSCAR IN THE EYE AFTER???

landonorris im scared oscar hasnt stopped smiling all day

- oscarpiastri what can i say? Its not everyday your girlfriend writes a song about you

- y/nnn babe youve heard the song im not sure you want to go broadcasting it that its abt you

- oscarpiastri are you kidding????? Of course i do

—

y/nnn 34+35 out now (oscar wanted me to make it known the song is about him 🤦🏼‍♀️)

Comments:

oscpastry THIS SONG??????? IS ABOUT?????? OSCAR PIASTRI?????? THE RACING DRIVER??????? FOR MCLAREN???

- mclarensgirly YEAH WTF ARE WE MISSING SOMETHING

- pieasstree “you drink it just like water, you say it taste like candy” WHO IS THIS MAN

oscarpiastri this is the best day of my life

- pastry81 i dont know who you even are anymore

- f1butmore-mclaren how did mclaren even sign off on this

- y/nnn its my music i choose what i release all that mattered was if oscar was comfortable (he was comfortable to a degree that was concerning)

- oscarpiastri real

landonorris most recent google search: “how to erase your memory and ability to hear and see” i can never look either of you in the eye anymore

- y/nnn I TOLD YOU NOT TO LISTEN TO IT

- landonorris I DIDNT THINK YOU WERE GOING TO TALK ABOUT MY TEAMMATE THAT GRAPHICALLY

- y/nnn thats your own fault then

—

Twitter Thread

pieasstree youre gonna tell me 34 35 is abt this man.

- oscpastry “even though im wifey you can hit it like a side chick” is dick whipped the correct term for this???

- mclarensgirly plz never say dick whipped again but yeah i believe so

- pieasstree WE ARE MOVING AWAY FROM THE MAIN TOPIC OF CONVO. HOW IS THIS ABOUT HIM. IT JUST DOESNT MAKE SENSE.

- oscarsmyfav i dont know what i was expecting from that song but “i know all your favorite spots, we can take it from the top, youre such a dream come true, make a bitch wanna hit snooze” WAS NOT IT.

- hisrookieseason “i dont wanna keep you up, but show me can you keep it up cause then ill have to keep it up” I HEARD THAT AND IT ALL MADE SENSE

- oscpastry YEAH LIKE NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY HES SO MELLOW ALL THE TIME ITS BC HES TIRED

- oscarpiastri never too tired tho

- pieasstree WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

- oscpastry AM I IN A DREAM THIS IS NOT THE OSCAR I KNOW???????

- y/nnn its the oscar i know…

- mclarensgirly WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON HERE

- oscpastry im so scared rn but also SO intrigued

- pieasstree its the way theyre probably sitting next to each other and laughing at all of us distraught fans

- y/nnn hes very pleased with himself (👇🏻)

- pieasstree i rlly just dont understand how that man THAT BOY could cause an earthquake in bed as y/n said

- y/nnn trust me he could.

- oscarpiastri trust me i can and i have.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fanfiction

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hxltic · 2 months

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You thought he was innocent. You thought that by Megumi’s nonchalance, his lack of ability to hold eye contact, and his honest dismissal of your presence as a whole while you spoke to his best friend Itadori when you first met was a sign of shyness— especially considering he tries to ignore conversations he doesn’t find himself necessary to participate in.

When you did include him in the conversation, he glances up from the screen of his phone, then to his pink haired companion, then back to you. He nods at whatever you said with an almost imperceptible curl of his lips, remembering how Itadori told him to smile so he doesn’t come off as rude to new people.

Since then you became friends by proximity. When Itadori was doing anything worth making fun of, you’d find each others gaze, silently agreeing on how much of a dumbass he was sometimes, and literally this interaction over and over called for you two to become closer. When he did speak, there was a softness to his voice. His words aren’t harsh, and spoken gently, like if he were to deem you as not listening anymore, he’d stop speaking completely and return to whatever he was doing. That doesn’t happen of course.

Needless to say, he was deceiving. Those beautiful green eyes underneath strands of his long hair that was growing out by the day are completely, and utterly, deceiving.

Because now, as you do get farther and farther away from just kissing, his movements become fervent and laced with hunger. You were previously sitting criss-cross on top of the bed comforter. Now you’re falling backwards, a low-eyed Megumi stripping himself of the short-sleeved white tee he wore.

“Is this okay?” He’d confirm earnestly, voice still floating into the air as before despite the drop in tone. When you solidify yourself with a tug on the hair at his nape and the desperate roll of your hips, he relocates his focus down to your neck, leaving feather-light kisses that send fire all over.

And then you get past the teasing part, finally, and you decide to pamper him a bit. You’re laying on your stomach between his legs as he is sitting upright. He allows you to remove him from his boxer briefs.

The second you hold his length between your fingers, pleasuring him with a few experimental strokes and attaching your plush lips to his throbbing tip, his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Oh god,” he groans, basking in the feeling of the suction, this never-felt-before sensation. You can conclude it’s his first time.

You hum back, “Mhmm,” just to provide a response.

It’s all great until the hands that clench the sheets come up to your hair and gather it into a makeshift ponytail. Megumi is always so sweet, no matter what. It’s then you realize he’s watching what you’re doing, not your own eyes, and there’s a curious, devious, emotion lurking behind them.

Suddenly there’s a force to the back of your head and your nose almost reaches his pelvis. Done so quick, it was as if he wanted to see what would happen, just once. His eyes shot open as he popped back into reality to check on you nervously.

“Shit sorry- I’m sorry.”

Staring up at him, blinking blankly, his nerves skyrocket at your next words but you wish to see that cold in his eyes again. Give him complete freedom to try out what he wants to, what you can tell he’s thought about more than once. You clear your throat and instruct him to do it again.

“Are you sure? I can—”

“—I want this to feel good for you. You can be rough with me.”

With him being the socially awkward one, you wear the pants in the relationship. So when he sees that determination in your eyes, he knows there’s nothing to stop it. “Just tap if you want me to stop.”

Back down you go. Like all the nervousness was just a fluke, he shoves your head down in a chase for the warmth of your throat. It pulsates around his shaft once you begin to gag, tipping his head back once more, a throaty groan leaving his mouth as his hips buck up.

He becomes more comfortable the more you seem to be actually okay with what he’s doing, and as he gets closer with every gluck and splutter, he begins speaking into the air. He can’t help it.

“Oh fuck, I love how your throat feels. Can you go even deeper? All the way?”

On cue, you choke with your nose in trimmed, dark hair, your nails digging red crescents into the skin of his thighs along with lines that will burn later. Spit dribbles past your lips and down to his balls. The boy you knew would despise the feeling, and honestly the entire messy sight in itself, but I guess that’s something new you learned.

“Take it,” he looks down at you with his brows furrowed angrily, and you see a completely different boy than the one you thought you knew. Your panties run damp. He slurs, “Take it all and hold it.” A headache forms with how fast he rolls your head up and down and the tight grip he has, then it stops for a moment as you regulate your breathing through your nose at the bottom before he tugs you right back up, allowing you to finally breathe. He grabs you firmly by the cheeks for a kiss. Even if his dick was in the farthest back of your throat.

Suddenly you’re rising with his lips, and his fingers are hooking under your thighs to drag you closer to him and onto your back, just how you were before you decided to spoil him. His cock is still wet and throbbing and leaking precum, on the verge of exploding, but he leaves it untouched.

He’s tugging your shorts and panties off at the same time. At first he stares pensively, basking in all the skin he’s seeing and what he’s going to do with it. He’s quick in the way he rolls your knees up and to your sides. It’s instinct for his hands to knead the plush of your thighs while he bends down to your center, kissing and biting around where you want him most.

“Tell me how,” he asks, his long eyelashes fluttering up to you.

Your response is “How what?” You completely forgot about his lack of experience.

“How to make it good for you.”

His marks on your body do not falter; the number only increases with the amount of time that passes. “W-well there’s a specific spot in the center that feels really good. You just kinda mess with that? I guess?” He watches your face redden and your eyes dart away as the broken sentences spill from your mouth.

“So…”

His hand releases your thigh and two of his fingers slowly slide up into your wetness, splitting your lips apart, and showcasing the bud to him. He knew female anatomy, that wasn’t the hard part, it was just whatever comes after that.

He comes forward and his tongue leaves his mouth, licking a solid stripe atop your clit, looking you dead in the eyes when they return to his once you feel it. The pink muscle flicks up over it a few times, eliciting a gasp and a whine at the sight from you.

When you don’t respond, he does it again, this time taking you into his mouth, just to release it, and take it back in. If your legs start to move he presses them back down, leaving your thighs caged by his palms and your hips shuddering. There’s a satisfying grunt when you tug his hair, unknowingly pulling it out of his face too.

Since then he twists his face in your pussy, slurping and holding your lips open for himself when he sees fit, just to make it easier for what he’s about to do next.

He drops both hands from your legs— trusting you to hold them open yourself— and relocates one hand to wrap around your throat and the other to sink two fingers inside of you. He may have started with one, but you both agreed you were past that. In the meantime, he never stops licking, forcing your eyes shut and your body to wriggle. “Mmmmnn.”

He curls his long fingers up out of half intention and half curiosity of what the inside feels like. It’s soft and padded and hot. When your back arches at the movement, he does it once more, until it’s continuous and he isn’t licking you anymore. Instead, he presses force to your throat while connecting his forehead to yours.

You blink up at him leisurely, quickly finding his eyes.

“Do you like it when I do that?”

You nod.

“Pussy is so wet and warm. Will it be that tight when I go in?”

It was kind of a genuine question, but not really.

“I love this look on you. You gonna come on my dick like a whore when you get the chance?” His voice rumbles through your core. He knows, because you instantly tighten around his fingers.

It was then he completely concluded you actually liked when he was mean or rough with you; you just didn’t want to push it because you didn’t think it was in his nature, and he didn’t want to push it because he didn’t think it was in yours.

“I’m close,” you force out.

“Yeah?” He nibbles on your ear lobe.

You nod, trying to pretend that word alone didn’t make you even wetter.

His thumb circles your clit while the ones curling inside speed up on your g-spot, all on the same hand, shaking your lower half up and down, and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—” your voice raises a pitch, and the ravenette tries his best to move during your orgasm, but your walls clenching him with a vice grip don’t allow him much. He watches in amazement when your eyes squeeze shut and your breathing becomes insanely irregular before him.

There’s slick, milky white covering his fingers when he does remove them, and he doesn’t think twice to shove them into his mouth.

You were watching him do it tiredly, but you hadn’t expected that to happen. You shot up onto your palms. “Megumi!”

He looks back at you. “What?”

He was already nose deep in there anyway.

©️hxltic

#just like his damn daddy.#god i want him so bad #jjk fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk megumi #jjk megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi smut #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #megumi imagine #jujutsu megumi fushiguro

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ohbother2 · 3 months

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OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

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lucyrose191 · 5 months

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PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Pairing: Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader

Summary; You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you.

Warnings; fluff, mistreatment of women

F1 Master List

You had fought to get in the position you were in today and you had done it all with a smile on your face. It was easy back then, when there was less attention on you and less people questioning your every decision or underestimating your talent compared to the other drivers on the grid simply because you weren’t a man.

You were known for your smile, the way it was always present with everyone you spoke to and no matter the question you were asked but people seemed to take it as an invitation to say whatever they wanted as though it had no affect on you.

It didn’t in the beginning.

But as each of the questions piled on top of each other, the strain made it harder to maintain the smile, your struggle was hard to notice because you did such a good job of hiding it but one person did.

Kimi Räikkönen.

Whilst he was quiet, he was observant.

To him only a fool would think your smile was real. There was clearly such a huge difference between you being happy and you pretending to be happy.

There were no more sparkles in your eyes or twitch of your nose and it enraged him.

It was infuriating, knowing that the journalists and media had managed to ruin the pureness in you.

He wasn’t going to allow them to destroy you of everything you were.

You normally didn’t mind the driver’s press conferences but lately they’ve been…. hard.

The questions lately have hardly been about driving, instead about your possible challenges against the other drivers or if you feel as though you’re at a disadvantage.

You don’t. You’ve said countless times that you don’t feel the need to be treated differently in any sense and that you being female added no extra struggles in your opinion.

It seemed the tipping point for Kimi with these questions was when a female journalist asked not only peculiar but disturbing question.

You smiled at the woman as she stood up, thinking you’d get a real question about driving but that smile soon faded as she opened her mouth.

"Hi, this is a question for Y/N. As a woman, I was curious as to whether it’s more difficult for you to finish a race during the time of the month when you’re menstruating?"

You hated it. You hated that just because they’re a woman they think it excuses the questions they’re asking.

Beside you Kimi scoffed loudly, the most noise he’d made during the entire conference. "What sort of fucking question is that?" He stared straight into the woman’s eyes with a face as hard as ice.

The woman seemed taken back by him and started stuttering. "I-well-I was just-"

Kimi shook his head "We’ve been sat in these chairs for half an hour and not a single one of you imbeciles has asked her a real fucking question about the car or the race. All of you have sat there and just questioned her ability to do her job as if any of you know a thing about racing."

Kimi stood up from his seat and gestured for you to get up as well from where you were sitting in pure shock, lips parted and eyes wide you did and followed him out of the room, ignoring the fact that you weren’t meant to be leaving any time soon.

He was raging, he had sat and watched as your smile dimmed with each question; anger building inside until he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

You had to run to catch up with him, he was walking so fast, fuelled by his anger. Your body was still in shock from the way he had spoken and stood up for you but you caught his arm which caused his footsteps to pause.

You looked up at him in silence for a moment, contemplating what to say as he looked down at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"You didn’t have to do that," you settled on saying.

Kimi huffed, glancing away for a short minute before returning his gaze back to you. "I did, I wasn’t going to sit and let them speak to you like that, you deserve better."

You shrugged and smiled weakly "It’s how it’s always been, they’re not going to change and I’ve accepted that."

"You shouldn’t need to," he argued before grumbling under his breath and reaching out to cup your cheeks, keeping his gaze locked with yours. "They’re taking away your smile and I’m not going to let them. You’re beautiful and your smile is beautiful, I’m not letting them take that away from you."

You blinked up at him in shock whilst trying to process his words, raising your own hands up to wrap around his wrists to keep his in place.

Eventually, you smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you."

He gave you that half smile you knew so well before pulling you into his embrace "Don’t listen to anything they say, they don’t know you."

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let them knock you down, not when you had Kimi there to stand in front of you like a protective shield or hold your hand as you walked through the media storm.

You could do anything with him beside you, you could even keep your smile.

#formula one #motorsport #fluff #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen #iceman x reader #kr7

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

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ailithnight · 4 days

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DPxDC Prompt #8

Danny was practicing shapeshifting with Amorpho when he felt the tug of a summoning and heard the distant words drifting into his mind.

Normally Danny would just ignore it. Or if it seems like this was a group that needed some sense scared into them, he'd shift into his Horror form and terrify them into never pulling this shit again. But then he heard them mention live sacrifices, and Danny just had to step in before that happened. So he let the summoning pull him on through, briefly forgetting he was shapeshifted into a... less than ideal form.

Danny lands in the circle right on top of one of the intended sacrifices, a group of people in weird outfits and, is that guy green? Irrelevant. Immediately Danny on knows something is very wrong. His powers feel muted and far away. His form suddenly feels, locked somehow.

He casts his gaze across the summoning circle and, to his horror, recognizes the binding ritual. These cultists wanted to bind and seal him in one of these mortal's bodies after they were sacrificed. But they fucked up the spell. Or maybe Danny fucked it up by coming in too soon? Irrelevant again.

What matters is the spell went sideways. Instead of locking Danny into one of the sacrifice's bodies, it locked him into his own form while pulling most of his abilities just out of reach. Now he's here. In the shape of- He's stuck as-

"Dude, is that a pigeon? Did the Ghost King, like, send you to voicemail?"

#DPxDC Prompt #DPxDC #technically #DPxTeen Titans #The tv show version #With Robin Starfire Cyborg Raven and Beast Boy #I've seen a lot of Danny shapeshifted as different animals prompts #Cat bat duck goose dragon raccoon seal #Don't think I've seen pigeon though #And I got the line 'Did the Ghost King send you to voicemail?' about Pigeon!Danny showing up in the Ghost King's summoning #And I just had to throw that out here #Also Danny is supposed to look like a normal pigeon here #Maybe some slightly odd coloration #But part of the shapeshifting practice was learning how to shift into something that would pass for normal in the Mortal Realms

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utahimeow · 10 months

Text

cw — pregnancy

gojo’s absentminded whistling as he shuts the front door alerts you that he’s arrived home.

you jump from your skin, hands quivering as the reality of it all begins to sink in. nerves gather in your stomach, spinning rapidly until they morph into nausea — although that might just be morning sickness.

your heart pounds through your ears, pumping so loudly and quickly that it drowns out all other noise. it means that you don’t hear when your husband enters the kitchen, and you’re not aware of him until one of his huge hands grasps your chin and gently tugs your face until your lips meet his.

the gut-wrenching nerves waver and fizzle out from the way satoru handles you so tenderly. and it’s always been this way — from your very first kiss, satoru’s ability to put your mind at ease so effortlessly has never faltered. every touch of his forces even the slightest of fears in your brain to melt away.

he pulls away, pouting, his crystal eyes filled with curiosity, and before you manage to get a verbal greeting out, he springs to ask you a question.

“why is your heart beating so fast?”

the curse of being married to the world’s most powerful sorcerer means that trying to hide emotions from him is futile. it’s not a real curse by any means, however nothing goes unnoticed — even when it’s a burden you refuse to let him help you carry.

“i have something to tell you,” you say, struggling to hold back your soft grin.

“you’re pregnant,” he says — not in curiosity, not as a question, but rather as-a-matter-of-factly.

your mouth drops, along with your heart. you’d hope it would be a sweet surprise to him, after all, and now a baffled disappointment sits in the pit of your stomach.

“how- what? how did you know?” you stutter. it wasn’t simply a guess, and you can tell from the way he smirks.

“my six eyes sensed it,” he explains. when your eyes brim with tears, his own features fill with concern. i fucked up, he thinks immediately. “angel, what’s wrong?”

“well, you could have pretended not to know! i wanted it to be special when i told you,” you whine, and he gives a lovesick laugh as he gathers you in his overwhelming embrace.

“i’m sorry, sweet thing,” he coos, soothing his hand over your hair. his voice becomes low when he speaks again, almost a whisper. “it’s still special though. we’re… having a baby.”

he says it slowly, like it’s the first time he’s actually comprehending it. because it’s no longer an unspoken thing as it had been for the past two weeks — it’s real.

and as satoru kisses the top of your head, he thinks how he’s holding his entire world in his arms — you, and the life growing inside you.

#something silly and self indulgent for the summertime #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

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undiscovered-horizon · 6 months

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[Zoro is jealous of how impressed you are with another man's strength. A few insults and broken breezeblocks later, he makes sure he's the only man you have eyes on.]

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Roronoa Zoro is a man too busy to boast. He perceives his skills and attributes as a means to an end and not a goal in itself; achieving unmatched swordsmanship is but a method of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

It's completely useless to waste one's potential only to earn fame and admiration. If one sees their abilities as a goal, they tend to abandon their growth once the goal is achieved, never discovering what they can really do. Therefore, boasting is a manmade border between the current state of things and the wonderful possibilities.

Or so he tells himself.

The crowd cheers again as the blue-haired boy breaks another stack of planks. Each time he adds one more obstacle, the mob of onlookers is sure that this time, he's bound to fail. They've been wrong so far.

Zoro and you have been watching the show from affair but only because you refused to walk away. Sure, on your adventures you have seen people or unimaginable skills and attributes. Nevertheless, the man on the makeshift stage is just that - a man. No Devil Fruit, no canons-for-arms or anything of this sort. Just a person with determination and years of practice.

"Damn, that's some strength," you say in awe. "It's amazing."

Zoro only scoffs, scowling while he stands with his arms crossed. "Come on, this is nothing."

"Oh, right, breaking a stack of five wooden planks with your bare fist is just a regular Tuesday, eh?"

"Definitely not for a twig like him," he answers while still glaring at the boastful plank-breaker. "A gust of wind could break his bones."

Something about his huffing and puffing doesn't sit right with you. After all, why does he care in the first place? Zoro is not the kind of person to be interested in things that are not directly connected to him. It's almost as if...

Is he jealous of the attention?

"You know what, Zoro?" When you turn to look at him, he notices the challenging glint in your eyes. You're up to no good, aren't you? "I'd love to see you try and break even one plank."

He scoffs again but this time he looks almost offended at the implication. "I wouldn't even get out of bed for one."

"That's not a good measure." You shake your head decisively. "It's already hard to make you get up." Then, an idea sparks in your thoughts - something he's sure not to reject. "Let's do it like this. If you can one-up that guy, I'll do whatever you want."

Zoro's brown eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. He seems to be trying to guess how serious you are about your promise. "Anything goes?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing that will tarnish my dignity." As a warning, you point your finger at him. "Or dirty my shirt."

Then, to your utmost satisfaction, he gives you a smirk beaming with confidence.

"You're going to regret this."

"I hope so," you answer.

He clenches his jaw at your frivolous tone, his mind racing in a thousand different directions at once. What do you mean you "hope to regret" your wager? What exactly do you think he'll ask of you?

No matter the answers to his questions, Zoro has found a new source of motivation inside him. He can ask anything. As nice as that sounds, and he's sure to let his imagination run amok, the more satisfying prize will be the look of awe you're bound to give him. If you're impressed with this boastful twig of a man, how dazzled will you be with Zoro when he beats him? Maybe you'll finally stop looking at other men like they're actually worth even a second of your time or a speck of your attention.

"Hey, wood boy!" Zoro exclaims at the top of his lungs while making his way through the excited crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Let's see who's stronger."

"A brave challenger appears!" The blue-haired man announces. Whispers erupt among the onlookers. "Or maybe he's stupid?" he directs his question at his fans. Then, when Zoro enters the stage, the man looks at him with a feeling of superiority smeared across his face. "I'll have you know, I'm the local champion."

Up close, the blue-haired man looks even less impressive than from the ground. He's rather scrawny compared to men of similar strength and he could definitely use a long bath. Zoro is almost offended that you'd look at this poser of a clown instead of him.

"Only local?" Zoro asks. He erupts in laughter, making his opponent's expression visibly falter. "Not much of a title. I've seen rocks bigger than this island."

The whispers turn into loud conversations as half of the crowd demands Zoro to take back his words and the other half begs for a showdown to see who's the true master between them.

"Ambitious!" the blue-haired man exclaims with fake casualness, clearly trying to hide his own uneasiness. "That's what I like to see. But I must warn you that breaking wood with the sheer power of your bare fist is neither easy nor simple. Are you sure you can manage?"

Zoro laughs again. His posture only grows with confidence while the other man seems to be becoming smaller with each of Zoro's insults. "Wood is for children."

The blue-haired man swallows nervously. Sweat trickles down his neck. "Alright then." He clasps his hands together, rubbing them to ease the arousing tension. "What do you propose?"

"Breezeblocks."

The crowd audibly gasps and you're not any different. To break something that can render someone unconscious, if not dead, without having to use much strength? Even for someone like Zoro, the suggestion seems more than audacious. True, you wanted to see him prove his bold talk but not break his hands.

But before the blue-haired man can protest or diverge the discussion, a group of eager men bring a load of breezeblocks on stage. Their eyes shine with impatience and desire to see uncommon strength as they take away the wooden boards and set up the first breezeblock for each of them to break. The hollow bricks are placed atop regular, clay bricks that the blue-haired man has used to lay the planks on.

With a light gesture of his hand, Zoro allows the apparent master to begin. The man stretches his arms and cracks his joints. Despite being visibly experienced in this art, there is a noticeable nervousness in his movements, too. As though he's not as confident as he was five minutes ago.

Measuring one or two times beforehand, the local champion slams his fists on the breezeblock. A muffled thud resounds and the crowd falls silent. Then, a loud grunt fills the tense air but not a speck of cement is lifted. The breeze block did not break but considering the agony on the man's face and the deep red of his hand, something surely did break.

Zoro laughs for the third time. Strangely enough, he seems almost suspiciously laid-back. He reaches for the blue-haired man's unbroken breezeblock and places it atop his. If the crowd was silent before, it's deathly quiet now. They don't even dare breathe, awaiting the resolution of this unforeseen wager.

His eyes meet yours and never stray as he punches the stack of breezeblock. They break, fall and crumble on the stagefloor. Zoro doesn't look phased in any way, nor does his hand look to be injured. Judging by his casual attitude, he can easily break a lot more than just two breezeblocks. Maybe one day he'll find out but not at the moment - that's not the point of his little show of strength.

Some people try to accost him or talk to him as he makes his way back to you but Zoro's usual glares and silence quickly mitigate their enthusiasm and soon the mob of onlookers just cheers among themselves.

"Alright, I'm impressed," you admit with a nod. "In capital letters."

"So, anything I want, huh?" He can't help the smile curving his lips. It's a big word that you've used - a little too big for Zoro's imagination because it too happily strayed in directions that might break his heart permanently if you reject him.

"I suppose you do deserve compensation for holding yet another title of a champion. The dreadful weight of success," you say in a dramatic tone. "Now, what is this 'anything' you've decided on?"

Truthfully, he hasn't decided yet. If this "more than friends, less than lovers" situation he has with you was a game of chess, he's just made his opening move. You played back and put him in a place where there are simply too many options to reconsider. So what choice does he have to make to have you in a checkmate?

#roronoa zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro x you #roronoa zoro fanfiction #roronoa zoro x you

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love-toxin · 6 months

Text

bonus night - mike schmidt

plot: jk it's just por-//SHOT

(cws: fem!reader, FNAF movie spoilers!!!, rough sex, riding, begging, a teeny tiny taste of dom mike, tit sucking, bruising, protected sex w/ a twist, post-fnaf canon, established relationship)

wc: 2k

There's absolutely no question that it's been a long fucking day. One of many, in fact, both behind him and yet to come.

Aside from his sleep schedule still being tremendously fucked from that five night ordeal, Mike's also had the stress of landing a new job and keeping it this time. He's lucky–god, he's lucky that an old friend of his just happened to have a connection–but that just puts more pressure on his ability to keep a level head and not lose this one. Plus, with his meds cut out as well as a whole host of new traumas to keep him up at night it's almost more stressful than fighting for his own life. With today being the end of orientation and the first real shift on the job, it's finally sinking in that a new chapter of life has started but his problems are still an uphill battle.

Bills, backpay, rent, Abby's therapy, pacifying their aunt who was quite aghast at waking up disheveled on their living room floor…it's been a process to say the least. His one saving grace has been you. You. His beautiful, gentle angel, with a voice like sugar and honey and skin as soft as velvet, warm like a shallow pool on a summer's day that he'd want to float in for hours. You're so precious he can't think of a single thing he's done in life that tops being your lover, or even comes close.

Well…maybe there's one thing.

“Mike,” The squeaking of the bed beneath you just barely drowns out the high, sweet whimper that your voice has melted into. “Please baby, slow down-”

A squeaky “ah!” flies from your mouth regardless of that insistent plea, your lover's hips like stone pistons as he bucks up and topples you over to land back against his chest. He loves you there; the feeling of your tits squished against his chest as he holds your ass in an iron grip. Thumbs dig into each cheek, palms splayed out to keep you spread but still in your place–stretched enough to take him but tight enough not to let him slip out. Not even now, an hour after he carried you through the door over his shoulder, when his spit and cum and sweat have coalesced into a damp sheen spilling over his lap. Fuck the mess. He'll clean it up later, if he doesn't just throw his whole bundle of sheets into the wash to scrub away the evidence.

Each thump, thump, thump of your body thrown down rings more in your ears than his, but both of you feel it equally. Your womb kissed with hard, stinging passion on every thrust, and Mike's stomach twisting and flexing as his cockhead beats that spot raw, instincts begging him to drain all he has left inside. He's got lots of pent-up energy to spare, and on the one night that his sister's gone to a sleepover you can bet he took the chance to let some of it out. He'd barely had time to grab a condom–as eager as he was, it pales in comparison to the heat between your thighs when you see him get all riled up. If he'd let you put it on for him, you'd probably have it off in a second. Now he's just at the mercy of your needy and downright addictive pussy.

“Fuck!” Your mewls shift into a spitting, hissing curse when he bites down on one of those beautiful breasts of yours. Unlike what a weaker man would do, Mike isn't averse to leaving bruises–what else could be expected? He tries to be a gentleman in public and you always tell him he is, but the desire to put hands all over those pretty tits and mark his claim on them is second nature now. And no matter how much you'll complain about them being sore afterwards, you'll still push them in his face with that devilish look that's daring him to do it all over again.

Besides, he can't resist those things swinging right in front of him. And you'll forget the sting so quickly, his tongue will make short work of those shallow wounds you feel as he latches his lips and starts to suck. Greedily.

“Mike!”

Your hands in his hair won't stop him. But they don't really want to–as always you love to tug but you never push him back, you don't try to get any more space between you because what's already there is still not close enough.

God your whiny voice is so cute. He couldn't feel more lucky to have picked you up when he did. How would he know that the girl he helped out once for an ice cream would end up being his girlfriend? He just thought you were cute, and he felt bad seeing your face fall as you counted out your change in line, so he hadn't thought twice about the dollar he put down on the counter in your stead. Such an adorable little ditz, and now he's got you riding his lap and kissing him awake nearly every morning. If he wanted to catch a break, this is it.

“M-Mike, m'gonna cum,” Your whimpers dig into his ear and tug at the strings of his heart, his head already turned to soothe you with a low, soft shush brushed by your cheek. There there. With a stroke of your hair, you're melting again.

“Mhm,” He hums again, his warmth a lull following the furious heat that's been sparked by the friction of his hips pumping at a violent pace. “Shh, sh sh. We’ll go slow, I promise.” His murmuring muddies your head, his fingers descending quickly towards their destination. Once they reach it at the crest of your soft, pudgy mound that's been brutalized by his cock, he's glad to see you finally let that tension go as you slump forward into his chest. You just need to cling to him for awhile, and he certainly won't be complaining.

The smell of your sweat, your heat, your sleek, soft tongue wetting the bruises your teeth leave in his throat, all that whining and groaning and high, girlish squealing as your hips hump his lap–these and more are all reasons he has to absolutely worship you. Your starry-eyed gaze as you look upon him in ecstasy etches itself into his very soul. He won't ever forget this…he won't ever forget you. Not the warmth of you both being cheek-to-cheek, your hand coaxing out his end as it trails reverently from his jaw down his heaving chest.

“Pleeeeease,” You whisper, so achingly sweet he could cry as easily as cum. “Please, baby?”

Please. Such a pretty word. Prettier from your mouth most of all, so pretty it hurts–nearly stings as he digs his nails in and leaves marks on each cheek, though it will moreso for you when you wince at sitting down at your desk tomorrow morning. You're shaking, trembling more like, and even if he made you wait for it you wouldn't be able to obey. The spasms wracking through you can't be controlled, nor can the grind of your hips down as you let those strong hands drag you all the way to the base. So far that it causes a twinge in your expression as the orgasm passes, your ecstasy blotting out the stretch that you're gonna feel all the way up to your hips in the morning.

But he's got to get in deep, has to make it ache, so he's got a grip so firm it's trembling up his arms and you're shaking even harder on top of him as he digs in and lets loose. There's no question he's hit your womb, it's more curious to whether he's broken through it or not…by the way you bite down on his shoulder and bear the pressure, though, he must be nearly there. Nearly squeezing through that tight, tight wall so he's draining his seed right where it's meant to be. And you paw at him all the while, lower lip quivering, tears threatening to spill, yet you won't let up on rubbing yourself back on his thighs–it just isn't enough until you've taken all he has to give, and even then he can spot that gleam in your eyes that begs for even more. The fact that the condom's split isn't even in his mind, it's floated so far away he won't think of it until it's too late to stop.

Yet all that heat hits the same end after the climax. The friction subsides, the breathing slows, and the two of you are left in content silence as you quietly come back to your senses. There's something even more intimate about losing oneself as a collective; being so hedonistic in pursuing an indulgence, yet facing the fear of baring your own heart to one you love in the process, and reaching an even more satisfying end as it all comes to a close. It's glorious. He wouldn't trade it for anything. He wouldn't trade sex for his own life now that he's had it with you. But, again, he's still coming down from the high–he’ll most certainly feel the embarrassment of losing himself so indulgently as the cool air from the AC starts setting in.

“Was that good, baby?” Your tone just drips with deliciously sinful innocence, god. You've got such a proud expression on your face as he finds the words through his post-coital haze, hands inching back down your ass to grab handfuls of it yet again. Once he's got a grip he tugs, and draws you closer to meet you in a kiss–and as wet as it still is from the exercise, the way you lean into it and giggle is just enough to send his heart burning into passionate flames yet again.

“Very. Always is.” Panting, sweaty, he'd have no trouble convincing the neighbors he was just having it out on a treadmill for the last hour. If he could afford one.

“The best you've ever had?”

“Best. Best and only. Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” You make a show of thinking up your answer only to tap him on the nose as you lean forward over him. “...No. I like this.”

Mike claps you on the ass suddenly, the smack echoing loudly in his modest little bedroom and eliciting a squeal from you that's just as punctual. Your squirming only draws a heat up inside him again though, and he knows better than anyone that that's exactly what you want. You'd be happy if he never got out of bed again, and if he spent all day with his cock nestled nice and warm inside you.

“Up. I gotta piss. Don't make me count.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Huffy and puffy as always, you soon relent and slip off with a bit of manoeuvring to flop into bed beside him. “Can I at least hold it?” Rather than say something equally as shameful, he just pushes his pillow over your face with reddened cheeks and ducks with laughter as you launch it back at him, already up and on his way to the bathroom to wash off–and to soon find the evidence of that broken contraception that's definitely gonna plant a seed of worry in him when he realizes. Or…maybe not. God knows how many jokes you've made about wasting his cumshots in your mouth, and how often you've jumped him with no inkling of whether he's got a rubber in reach or not.

Maybe this is just another chapter of life, one more stage he's been readying himself for unconsciously. Whatever it comes with, he's gonna be beside you either way–so in a sense, he's more prepared than he's ever been to face what lies ahead.

#mutuals if u look at me im legally required to gag u #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #spicy writing #fnaf movie #fnaf mike #ellie writes #2k

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ticktokrobotsnot · 10 months

Text

Hurricane

This is part 1. You can read part 2 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n.

Word Count: 9.5k

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick.

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons.

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.”

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile.

“Tell me something good, y/n.” Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good.

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died.

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him.

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen.

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair.

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.”

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.”

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face.

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind. She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part? She was enjoying herself.

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark.

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second.

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?”

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy.

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.”

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life.

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired.

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment, “tempting.”

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place.

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys.

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.”

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new.

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad.

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation.

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do.

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car.

“You good?”

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark."

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place.

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh.

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up.

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield.

“Thanks again Carmen.”

“Will your car be back tomorrow?”

“The day after.”

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing.

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation.

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed.

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.”

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable.

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off.

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment.

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to find his phone.

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories.

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave.

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out.

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting.

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over?

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in.

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?”

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically. “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-”

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did.

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously.

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief.

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?”

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly.

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed.

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing.

“Let me think about it.”

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance.

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant.

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow.

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly.

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office.

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned.

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence.

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.”

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.”

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.”

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him.

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries.

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n.

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n.

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?”

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen.

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.”

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor.

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.”

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver.

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow.

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k.

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her.

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways.

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n.

“What? Why?”

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not letting you do this unless-”

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good.

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer.

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie.

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen.

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything.

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.”

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.”

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do? Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes.

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home.

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose.

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute.

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived.

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.”

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.”

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed.

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk.

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible.

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk.

“Payback time.”

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better.

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now.

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun.

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk.

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.”

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party.

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene. Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself. Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.”

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes.

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.”

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups.

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together.

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what?

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes.

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something.

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”.

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful.

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee.

“Your past the counter, chef”

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter.

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath, y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter.

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm.

“Make it hurt.”

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie.

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought. Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible.

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter.

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men.

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?”

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside.

“A shot of water?” y/n offered.

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes,

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.”

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position.

“How was that, chef?”

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter.

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock.

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break”

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled.

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“I need to go to bed.”

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.”

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie.

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head.

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there.

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself.

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch.

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car.

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.”

“You need some sleep”

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her.

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered.

“I have a jacket”

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap.

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness.

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Aggravated Assault.”

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on.

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.”

Part 2

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