#we met on Tinder. (you already know where this is going) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samodivaa · 6 months

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Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?”

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery.

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse.

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky.

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past.

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes.

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point?

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were.

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass.

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James”

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky”

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity.

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

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leahwllmsn · 6 months

Text

16,904 | leah williamson x reader

so this was something I wrote a few years ago and I decided to change it into a leah fic cause I've been so obsessed :-)

hope you like it!

Melbourne

October, 2023

You finally tell your friends that you’ve been talking to someone you met online on a Friday night. The response you got is that they all think you're crazy, and you can’t blame them—saying that you have a tiny crush on this blonde who’s almost twice your height and likes football and country music without actually knowing if this said blonde exists is kind of crazy.

But you really do like talking to Leah and you could only hope that Leah is Leah and not some fifty-year-old man.

“You don’t even know what she looks like,” one of your friends snorts.

“It’s not always about the looks,” you argue.

“That’s true,” another one of your friends chimed in. “But you gotta admit, the looks matter a lot.”

You were about to correct her and say no, they do not, because yeah, sure, Leah is so freaking gorgeous based on the pictures on her profile, but what matters the most is that she’s so kind, and funny, and just overall amazing.

Instead you kept your mouth shut. A part of you don’t want to share Leah with anyone just yet.

(And another part of you still needs the confirmation that that is actually Leah because god damn it Leah is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen and you wish that it’s really her.)

—

6 Oct, 9:02 pm

y/n: I told my friends about you. they think it’s weird that I’m starting something with you when we’ve never met

y/n: it’s not weird, is it?

leahw6: starting something huh? ;)

y/n: shut up

y/n: we met on tinder. what were you expecting to find? a math tutor?

leahw6: ...

leahw6: you’re really funny, love

leahw6: and no, it’s not weird

y/n: good

y/n: and for the record, even if they think it’s weird I couldn’t care less

—

6 Oct, 9:25 pm

leahw6: just to be clear

leahw6: ‘starting something’ that means you want to date me right

y/n: how else could I mean that

leahw6: idk maybe you were the one looking for a math tutor

—

London

October, 2023

“Where did you meet her again?”

“Tinder.”

“Tinder,” Lia repeats.

“Yes,” Leah nods. “When we were in Australia for the World Cup… I got bored one night and decided to go on Tinder.”

“And you found her there,” Lia muses, sipping on her cup of coffee. “Wait, so she lives in Australia?”

“Melbourne, yes.”

“And does she know you’re all the way here in London?”

Leah hesitates before answering. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh boy,” Lia gives her a sympathetic look. “Does she know who you are?”

“Me… as in Leah?” Leah gives her teammate a confused look. “Yeah?”

“You as in you’re Leah Williamson.”

“Oh,” realization sunk in Leah’s face. “Then no. I mentioned I like football and she said she hates it. So, I doubt she knows who I am.”

“Oh boy.”

“I know,” Leah drops her head on the table. “I’ll tell her soon but what if it’s a deal breaker?”

“Which part? The part where you’re a famous footballer or you live thousands of kilometers away?”

Leah grimaces “Distance problem. She already said she hates football and wouldn’t dare step foot in a football game, but it’s fine! That’s not a problem because I can and will convince her to watch one of my games.”

Lia laughs. “Sure, buddy.”

“I really like her,” Leah continues. “She’s funny and witty and passive aggressive sometimes but it’s so endearing. She has great taste in music, great taste in movies and books, and just great taste overall—”

Leah’s words get cut off with Lia’s hand on her mouth. “You’ve known her for a few weeks and this is already how you act?” Lia chuckles, taking her hand away. “You got it bad, Williamson.”

Leah groans. “I know.”

“Just tell her now. If she likes you the same way, I have a feeling that she wouldn’t mind either.”

—

24 Oct, 4:13 pm

leahw6: can we talk ?

y/n: sounds serious

leahw6: kind of

y/n: are you getting tired of me already :(

leahw6: ofc not

y/n: oh okay :D

leahw6: idk how to say this

y/n: do you want me to call you?

leahw6: oh god no

leahw6: omg wait

leahw6: I didn’t mean that in a bad way I swear

leahw6: it’s just that if you call me I’ll be hearing your voice for the first time and I’ll be even more nervous

leahw6: and I don’t think I’ll be able to put out a coherent sentence bc I’ve been imagining so much what your voice would sound like with that face and all my guesses are that you have an extremely hot voice, raspy maybe?

leahw6: but actually no I don’t think you have a raspy voice

leahw6: a deep one maybe and holy shit a deep voice with an australian accent? I’ll faint on the spot I’m afraid

leahw6: no you can’t call me

y/n: okay...?

leahw6: I’m really sorry please ignore all that

y/n: I won’t ignore it, it’s adorable

leahw6: you think I’m weird don’t you

y/n: absolutely

leahw6: great

y/n: it just makes me like you even more

leahw6: I live in london

y/n: as in the one in england … ?

leahw6: is there another london I don’t know about

[incoming call from y/n]

leahw6: why are you calling me ?!

leahw6: I told you I’m too nervous rn

y/n: I don’t get it. it says that you were 2km away?

leahw6: yeah… I was on vacation… kind of...

y/n: kind of?

y/n: so you don’t actually live here?

leahw6: y/n if I was only 2 km away from you I would make up excuses just so I can see you everyday

y/n: how many km is it instead

leahw6: between us?

leahw6: google says it’s 16,904 km

y/n: ??! holy shit

leahw6: I know

leahw6: look, I get it if you want to stop this. not everyone is cut out for long distance

y/n: we’re like

y/n: on opposite sides of the world

leahw6: I know

y/n: do you want to stop this?

leahw6: I don’t

y/n: then we won’t

leahw6: are you sure

y/n: let me call you

leahw6: NO

y/n: leah

leahw6: give me a day to prepare

y/n: you’re so dumb

y/n: but fine

y/n: do I at least get a facetime

leahw6: FACETIME?

leahw6: no. you get a phone call. voice only

y/n: r u catfishing

y/n: I knew it you’re too beautiful to be real

leahw6: ha ha

y/n: call me tomorrow okay lee?

leahw6: okay

leahw6: and y/n

leahw6: thank you

y/n: what for

leahw6: for giving us a chance

y/n: leah I’d be stupid not to

—

Melbourne

November, 2023

You're in the middle of a meeting with boring, old men in suits when your phone rings—very loudly at that. You curse yourself for forgetting to put your phone on silent, quickly pressing the red circle on the screen, but not before smiling at the caller ID.

When the meeting finishes an hour later, you immediately pick up your phone and dial Leah’s number.

“Hey you.”

You smile at the voice on the other end. “Sorry I couldn’t pick up. I was in a meeting.”

“Oh sorry, bad timing. Thought you were finished for the day”

“Bad timing indeed,” you chuckle. “It rang really loudly.”

“Y/n,” you could hear Leah’s soft giggles. “The silent feature exists for a reason.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you take a seat in your office chair and sigh contently. “I’m glad it rang though.”

“How so?”

“I saw your name and my mood instantly picked up.”

Leah snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker, mate.”

You throw her head back in laughter. “But it’s true!”

Leah doesn’t say anything after that, all you could hear is the sound of chatter and honking of cars. “Where are you?”

“I just had breakfast, I’m walking to the… office.”

“You called me when you were having breakfast? Am I that much more interesting than whoever you were with?” you ask, your tone teasing.

“Of course you are,” is Leah’s reply and you could feel your stomach flipping upside down.

“Now who’s the sweet talker?”

“Still you.”

“Says the person who couldn’t stop telling me I’m pretty when we facetimed for the first time.”

Leah laughs and you really, really love the sound. “But you are pretty.”

“But I don’t think I need to hear it every five minutes.”

“Just accept the compliments, love.”

“Okay,” you relent, a grin spreading across your face. “Who did you have breakfast with?”

“Just my team– colleagues. My colleagues, Beth, Viv and Lia.”

You go silent for a few seconds, the last name ringing a bell in your head. “Lia as in your ex?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh.”

Leah must’ve sensed the jealousy in your voice (but honestly, you aren't jealous, you’re really not), because the next thing you know Leah is laughing and telling you that it didn’t work out between her and Lia because they were better off as friends.

“You see her everyday though,” you say, your voice less confident than before.

“And what about it?”

“You don’t see me everyday,” you pout, staring at a polaroid picture of Leah smiling at the camera that is stuck to the wall of your cubicle. Leah sent you a handwritten letter along with that picture a few days ago. Your roommate was the one who received it and it went something like this:

“Oh my god, there’s no way this is your Leah.”

“What?”

“This! Is this really her?”

“Is that Lee’s mail for me? Did you open it?!”

“I got curious!”

“Give me that!”

“You never mentioned that she looks like this!”

“I just haven’t shown you what she looks like ‘cause everyone kept on teasing me!”

“Because she could be a fake for all we know! But holy shit, she’s soo stunning. Does she have a twin sister?”

“No.”

“A twin brother?”

“No.”

“Can I have her instead then?”

“What the—no?!”

“Fine, be stingy like that.”

“...I’m really fine with us like this.”

You blink away images of your roommate in your head and focus your attention back to Leah’s voice. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m okay with not being able to see you everyday,” Leah repeats. “Talking to you over the phone is enough.”

You smile. “It’s enough for me too. It’d be great to have you next to me but this is good too.”

People would think otherwise but for you, having Leah a phone call away really is enough; you'd take hearing Leah's laughter through the phone than not hearing it at all.

—

10 Nov, 1:11 pm

y/n: I got a dog

leahw6: ???!!

leahw6: Y/N CALL ME OMG

leahw6: I WANT TO SEE

y/n: you’re more excited to see him than me ://

leahw6: YES

y/n: excuse me

leahw6: WHAT’S HIS NAME

y/n: robert

leahw6: ROBERT?

y/n: yes, robert

leahw6: he's now my favourite

leahw6: SEND PICS

y/n: :/

y/n:

leahw6: you know you're my favourite too

y/n: :D

leahw6: but I think I like robert more than you OMG HE'S ADORABLE!!!!

y/n: bye

—

London

December, 2023

leahw6: want to hear a funny story

y/n: what is it

leahw6: a guy tried to hit on me tonight

y/n: excuse me???

[incoming call from y/n]

“That’s not funny,” is the first thing Leah hears once she accepts the call.

“Hello to you too,” Leah stifles a laugh. You sound tense and Leah can just picture the frown on your face.

“Leah.”

“Yes, babe?” Leah learnt that the quickest way to melt away your anger is to use pet names and so for any argument (even if Leah is in the wrong), Leah would always win.

This time it doesn’t seem to work. “How is that funny again?”

“Darling, I’m just teasing you.”

“Did a guy really hit on you?”

“Yes,” Leah answers honestly. “He bought me a drink.”

“I see.”

Leah doesn’t like how dejected you sound. So she presses the button for facetime and the first thing she sees when you accept is her girlfriend pouting at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Leah giggles.

“Is all of this funny to you?” you pout even more, your phone screen illuminating your face in the dark room.

“Did I wake you up?” Leah asks instead. She knows you like to sleep in on weekends.

“Yes, but that’s fine. You know I want to talk to you any chance I get,” you answer, shifting so that you’re now lying on your side.

“You’re the best,” Leah says as she climbs in bed, tucking herself under the covers.

“Obviously,” you scoff. “Unlike that stupid guy who doesn’t know you’re off-limits.”

Leah grins at the annoyed look you’re giving her. “Baby?”

“Hm?”

“It’s so cute when you’re jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I’m jealous. He gets to be within your presence while I’m stuck here, freaking sixteen thousand kilometres away from you. It’s unfair.”

Leah sends her a soft smile. “But you’re the one I’m talking to every day, so who’s the real winner here?” The frown is still present on your face and Leah wants nothing more than to kiss it away—so that’s what she did.

“Leah, what the hell are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Leah answers simply, kissing her screen again.

And when Leah hears laughter from the other end, her heart feels much lighter.

“Lee, have you cleaned your phone? That’s gross.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Cute, but maybe clean your phone first.”

Leah rolls her eyes at you, her smile never leaving her face. “At least I made you laugh.”

“You always make me laugh,” you say, your face so close to her camera that the entirety of Leah’s screen is just a close up of your face. Leah’s heart swells in adoration at the sight.

“Did you have a good night's sleep?” Leah asks.

You hum in answer. “Now it’s your turn to get a good night’s sleep.”

You could see how hard Leah is trying to keep her eyes open.

“This sucks, time difference sucks” Leah pouts. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Baby,” you give her a sad smile. “It is how it is. We’ll talk more when you wake up.”

“Yes, captain,” Leah gives you grin, her eyes fully closed.

“Good night, Leah. Sweet dreams.”

You watch Leah go to sleep for a few minutes, the sound of her soft snores making it seem like she’s right next to you.

That night Leah dreams that you're right next to her, holding her close and keeping her warm on the cold winter night.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #leah williamson imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses x reader #woso x reader

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mochimooon · 6 months

Text

DTF Only (Happy Hour) - porco galliard x reader 18+

pairing: Porco Galliard x afab! Reader summary: Your first match sent you a message and Porco wants to spend Happy Hour with you. word count: 3500+ notes: Part 2 (although can be seen as Part 1) of DTF Only. Been a minute since I've written for this guy, and congrats! He's your first match! :) warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, sex in a restroom, vaginal sex, mirror sex, motor boating ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

The initial thrill of swiping left and right wore off by the time you went to bed, and if not for the notifications, you would have forgotten all about Tinder.

Opening up the app, you’re surprised to see you’ve matched with several guys. But around last night’s margaritas, you don’t remember any of them.

Regardless, you’re hit with another wave of serotonin, reading the first message you received earlier this morning.

Hey You’re cute. You like football?

Before replying, you tap on the guy—Porco’s—profile.

You blink. He’s blond, like Colt.

It’s not something that’ll deter you, only something that you couldn’t help noticing and as you peruse his profile the similarities end there.

He’s a different shade of blond and wears his hair in a different style too, polished, slick back over an undercut. He’s built like he spends more time at the gym than anywhere else.

His bio is brief, not much to the imagination.

Gym, sports, beer. Happy Hour is my fav time of the day 🏈😎

Scrolling through his pictures, you’re not surprised. Most of them are gym selfies, all of which you approve of, with the last photo of him sporting a jersey at a football game.

He’s not a bad-looking guy at all, and it’s too soon to judge him based on his profile. With nothing to lose you tap out a reply.

Hey Porco! I’m no expert on football, but I like happy hour !

You’re not sure what to expect. It’s weird messaging someone you’ve never met. How do you even know he’s real? Online dating is so foreign and bizarre, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it.

The response arrives a few minutes later.

lol! I don’t judge 😉 My team’s playing today. At the bar right now to watch them win!! Drop by have some beer with me?

That was quick, but you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. The app is meant to get people to meet. It’s just weird…you can’t get over the concept.

You consider the invite. It’s so sudden. But you had no other reason stopping you from meeting up with him.

Without any plans for your Sunday, you agree. Guess this is it. Your first match and you’re already going to meet in person.

You had heard stories of ghosting, slow fades, catfishing, etc. The most common trend Ymir and Pieck had mentioned was becoming a pen pal, keeping communication on the app only and never actually meeting. Porco’s already proven to be an outlier.

“He looks pissed off in every picture,” Ymir says over the phone as you get ready to meet Porco. “Even the ones where he’s smiling…”

“That could just be his face,” Pieck says in answer, though she sounds dubious.

Because it’s your first time meeting a stranger online, you let your friends know where you’ll be, much to their excitement that you’ve taken to Tinder at ease.

“I think he’s cute.” You grab your keys. “He seems like a sports junkie, not sure what else we can talk about. I know nothing about sports.”

“You’re not there for the game,” Pieck supplies.

Nerves tickle at the idea of hooking up so soon with a stranger. Is that really what people do on Tinder? Years in a committed relationship, online dating stories never felt real, but now that you’re single, it’s time to find out.

“I mean it’s the middle of the day,” you trail off, indifferent. “Do you really think he’s going to want to hook-up? He might be more interested in the game.”

“Pfft. What?” Ymir laughs. “Men always make time for their dicks. It wouldn’t matter if you were meeting at a funeral. Trust, he’d find a way to get his kicks in.”

You hear Pieck laugh, and the tension defuses a little.

“That’s a stretch, Ymir,” you chuckle.

“But she’s right!” Pieck says. “Guys on Tinder have no shame. It’s why they’re on it.”

“Don’t overthink anything,” Ymir adds. “To have fun, you’re going to have to have the same clownish confidence.”

“Alright, well I need to get going.”

“Remember the code word if you want us to bail you out!” Pieck hurries to say.

Heading down the hall, you sigh. “Right. Cholula. Got to go.”

Before you end the call, you catch Ymir’s send off. “Good luck, champ!”

…

Football, sports, the like, none are your area of expertise. You could count on one finger the number of football games you’ve gone to—zero.

But happy hour makes you a good sport, and it also lures in the entire neighborhood.

The bar is packed, almost bordering a fire hazard. It’s impossible to see much other than droves of people, and it’s even harder to hear over the jeering over the game.

You squeeze by, craning your head, rising on your tiptoes for a sight of Porco. He had said he was at the bar, so you shove your way through, ignoring the disgruntled looks that are sent your way.

Sidling away from a few football fans, you think you see him or at least the back of his head. A burst of nerves flutter in your stomach. This might be him.

A man with a blond undercut with a gaze transfixed to the TV screen. It’s only when you approach closer to where the empty bar stool is that you recognize the scowl from the pictures.

“Porco?”

He turns, the scowl deepening for a moment in confusion. But it’s replaced with a faint smile as the man himself says your name.

“You made it.” He pulls you into a one-armed hug that would feel like nothing to someone else, but to you it’s tight against muscle, hidden away in his bomber jacket. “Saved you this seat.”

You take the lone barstool at his side, impressed that he managed to keep it vacant from the patrons desperately looking for a spot to watch the game. But as a stranger bumps into Porco’s elbow by accident, the man’s scowl drills into them, and they skitter off.

“Also, got you an IPA, and I placed an order for some nosh. Hope you like nachos,” Porco briefs you.

Reeling back from meeting your first ever Tinder match in person, you’re a little flustered as you take a seat. “Oh, um, thanks. Nachos are fine as long as they’re not spicy.”

He cuts you a humored look. “Tough shit, I love spice. I asked for extra jalapenos.”

The response is so blunt, you don’t even feel affronted, only mildly pricked.

“Okay…” Your eyes drift towards the TV screen. “So, who’s your team?”

It becomes a twenty-minute run down, from Porco’s favorite team and why; who they’re up against, and why they’re going to lose (his exact words). During that time, the nachos arrive, piled with cheese and an absurd amount of jalapenos you try to avoid. It’s no use. The spice has you reaching for your IPA, signaling for Porco to order you both another round.

It’s not all about him, though. You tell him a bit about yourself, and he takes enough interest that you’re endeared by him, despite his blunt and somewhat bossy persona.

And when the game is in full swing, the tension in the bar simmers hot. As does your gaze watching Porco.

Hazel eyes are fixed on the screen right now, his team close to scoring a touchdown, nothing else matters in that moment. While his focus is elsewhere, you can’t tears yours away from him.

The scowl in his brows knit tighter together as he grits his teeth, the tension running down his jaw and strong neck. Porco doesn’t have to try at all to look this good, and your mind wanders, envisioning his face with a flush and hair messed up.

You don’t catch what happens next but become aware of Porco’s hiss of irritation before he turns to you, blinking.

It’s not your intent to be shameless. You want to blame it on the IPA, however you know that’s not true. Something about the air becomes stagnant with heat. The rolling frustration throughout the bar, from supporters of either team fill the space like a thick cloud, dialing up every nerve in your body.

Meanwhile, Porco’s full attention is on you this time. You can feel the drag of his eyes on your bare legs, sweeping slowly upwards until they settle on your chest much longer than any other part of your body.

Something palpable lingers like smoke. Porco’s lip curls, trading your smirk for his as he gulps the last of his IPA, snatches up your hand and in a flash, he’s thrusting past the crowd like he’s on the football field.

Porco brings you both to the back of the bar, just outside of the restrooms. He turns the handle of the male restroom door, clicking his tongue to find it locked.

Porco bangs on the door, scowl deepening. “Hurry it up!”

Not a minute later, the door opens, and a perplexed man averts Porco’s eyes. You don’t notice him shuffling away, staggering on your feet as you’re dragged inside.

Porco’s quick to lock the door, not even looking at the knob, too focused on you. The hastiness, the dark lust burning through hazel in his eyes, your heart races, unable to wait any longer.

Reading your mind, Porco’s the first to erase the small gap, capturing your mouth, and lifting you by the thighs with authority.

For leverage, you clamp your legs around him, allowing him to deepen the kiss with his hand on the back of your neck.

You’re set down on the counter by the sink. You don’t pull away, despite the need for air. Instead, you scrape your nails through Porco’s hair.

He snarls like an animal, biting your lower lip and tugging it. “Keep doing that, I want to feel your nails there.” It comes out firm yet eager, his mouth ruthless against yours.

You do as he says, driving your nails inwards, scratching along his scalp, messing up the polished look.

There’s a whip of fabric, Porco’s jacket is tossed somewhere in the restroom. You don’t spare it any thought, letting your hands fall away from his hair to grasp onto his strong shoulders, clawing at his back to drag him closer.

Porco chases after your touch, like neither of you can have enough of the other. His weight presses into you, urging you backwards. Your back hits the mirror.

His lips pull away, tossing hungry kisses along your neck. He laps at your pulse, tongue dragging up to lick behind the shell of your ear.

You shiver a little baffled but scratch at his shoulders in appreciation.

He does it again, breath hot against your already feverish skin. “That the sweet spot?” Another long, sloppier lap at your skin. “You’re nasty,” he chuckles. “I can be nastier.”

True to his word, Porco’s tongue laps at your neck, a long, wet stripe coating beneath your jaw to your throat. You submit to the sensation, wrapping a hand around his nape to keep him close, a stuttered breath fanning his ear.

Porco releases your neck suddenly.

Your shirt’s tugged off, and before you can enfold your arms around Porco’s neck again, he swipes up your wrists, holding them out.

You blink, confused. Chest heaving in a way that your breasts pump outwards, goosebumps prickling the flesh, and Porco’s eyes soaking you in. Although you’re wearing a simple t-shirt bra, a shadow of lust hangs over Porco’s gaze.

“Oh my God…” pours out of Porco’s mouth before he licks his lips.

Your hands drop the same time as Porco’s face, crouching low enough to pull you in. His warm mouth finds your breast, pressing a soft kiss there.

He looks up, the tip of tongue slipping out to grace the flesh of your breast. “You’ve got pretty titties.”

He swallows, tugging your bra down to expose both breasts. His eyes shift between the two, grasping both in his hands and clenching them together. Moans muffle as he plants open-mouthed kisses between the two.

“So—fucking—pretty—” The words scatter between kisses in a rush, unable to stray too long from your chest. “I just want…”

He takes your nipple in his mouth, robbing him from the rest of that statement, sucking hard to verbalize the rest.

Not to leave the other breast neglected, Porco squeezes the flesh, twisting the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A hiss slips between your clenched teeth, and you flinch forward from the sudden burst of pleasure.

He’s more than content to be this close, burying his face deeper, sucking, biting, squeezing, leaving beautiful marks, with a hooded gaze locked skywards.

The adrenaline flows through your blood, flaring your pulse at the sudden rattling of the door handle.

Porco pays it no mind, if anything he’s deaf to it, moans vibrating against your chest. He takes your nipple between his teeth and tugs at it.

The sting blooms beneath a tender bruise forming, sparking ever nerve in your body, reaching your center. On instinct, your legs yank him in, and he laughs, flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck—you’re something else.” He comes up for air, divining his tongue into your mouth. Fingers crawl up your thighs, digging past the hem of your denim shorts, so close to brushing against your core. “These are cute…”

A sigh of bliss spills out of you.

“You like this, don’t you? That’s why you wore these shorts.” Porco teases—lips on your neck, fingers on your apex. “Somebody’s excited…”

This time a gasp springs forth, a shudder crawling down your spine. You scoot forward on the counter and Porco presses his finger against the damp spot of your panties.

Your hand trails down to Porco’s wrist, guiding him to keep going. His finger hooks into the gusset of your panties.

The rattling resurfaces, louder this time, along with a pounding against the door.

“Hello? Is someone in there?” A man calls out.

This time you’re sure Porco hears it. Despite keeping his attention on you, his brow twitches, the scowl he’s worn all day deepens the more the door rattles.

You do your best to retain his attention, not just for your sake but for Porco’s too.

However, the clench in his jaw and the tension running tight in his throat, both from the mounting irritation and sexual frustration, your body flushes with a new wave of heat, dripping onto Porco’s hand.

Rough fingers unbutton your shorts, and the sharp zip of your fly is drowned out by another round of heavy knocking.

“Open up!”

Porco growls, whipping around. “It’s fucking occupied!” His voice echoes in the restroom, loud enough to send the man outside the message.

The last you hear is an annoyed groan (“Get a fucking hotel”).

“Fucking loser,” Porco says, words strained in his throat.

You can’t help but watch him, mouth agape, stunned to be turned on by his short fuse. Maybe it’s the IPA tickling your nerves, or maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but you’re already so wet, you can’t take waiting anymore.

“Porco, please.”

It’s enough to restore Porco’s attention. He smirks, hoisting you by the hips to bring you back on your feet.

He slots his mouth over yours in a greedy kiss. You take the chance to undo his belt.

Porco does the same, sliding your shorts down to your thighs. Just as you’re about to slide his pants down, Porco grabs hold of your arms and spins you around.

“Face the mirror,” he says, punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass.

You yelp, watching him fish out a condom from his pocket. Shoving his pants down to his ankles, you eye his reflection, admiring the strong arms first, only for your attention to drift to his thick cock that springs free.

There’s a flicker of realization that moves through you. This is the first man you’re going to have sex with since your break-up. No one else has touched you in the three years you’ve been with Colt. You had expected it to feel wrong to be in this position. But you’ve never been more sure of anything else.

You bristle, nerves aflame with anticipation.

If there’s anything you’ve learned from Porco in the few hours that you’ve known him, is that he’s hasty, a facet you welcome eagerly.

The tip of his dick kisses your folds, sliding up and down, you breathe out, fogging up the mirror. You catch the smirk in Porco’s reflection despite that.

Strong hands take your hips with ironclad pressure, and he pushes into you.

Your mouth falls open, blowing out a sigh. You feel the tight strain, getting accustomed to his size. Everything about him is different, new. Nothing about him feels like Colt. Not the fullness of his cock, and definitely not the pace, because the second Porco reaches the end of you, he pulls back and slams forward.

Your hips bump into the edge of the counter, again and again, a wonderful kind of pain. Porco’s hands come around, groping your tits tightly as he leans forward to bite onto your shoulder.

It’s more than the roughness that you bask in, more than a man as attractive as Porco plowing into you. It’s the thrill of being spontaneous, the excitement of trying something new, to be daring, getting fucked in a public space with other strangers on the other side of the door.

You moan out, anchoring your hands on the counter and the mirror, fixated on the pair of eyes glued to your reflection.

“Porco—yes—just like that—”

“I got you, beautiful,” he pants into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth there too. “Fuck—you feel too good—and these fucking tits.” He squeezes your breast, while his other trails downwards.

A sharp gasp floats in the air. Porco rubs your clit to match the same pace as his thrusts, continue to spoil your neck with attention.

“C’mon doll,” he breathes. “I want you to cum for me. Keep those pretty eyes on the mirror.” He snaps his hips, thrusting deeper into you.

Your lower back starts to ache as the throbbing in your pussy intensifies. “Shit. Porco don’t stop.”

He kisses your shoulder, hot breath burning into your skin. “Cum for me.”

You twitch from the sting of teeth on your shoulder and the swiping of his fingers grant you your release.

You shudder, arms trembling to keep you up as Porco plows into you.

He groans, bringing his hand up to your mouth, having you taste yourself. Sucking his fingers clean, Porco’s unable to hold off any longer, his pace is more hurried and sharper.

“I’m going to cum—” He groans again, head thrown back, exposing the column of his neck in the mirror.

You wince at the tight squeeze around your breast, but you’re too spent to shake him off.

A moment passes and Porco’s head falls into your shoulder, blond strands cling to his sweaty forehead.

You wiggle your ass, and he pulls out, catching his breath and peppering kisses on your shoulder and nape.

“Shit,” he says at last. “Oh my God…” He swallows. “You’re fucking awesome.”

Cutting a glance away from his reflection, you take stock in your appearance. Your hairline shines with a layer of sweat, hair at a disarray though not as bad as Porco’s. Puffy lips and teeth marks all over your breasts. He devoured you, ravished you in a way that you haven’t been in a long time.

Like a firefly brought to life from the touch, something new yet familiar has reawakened inside of you, and you smile at this newfound, but restored version of yourself. The version that craves to explore, experience, and experiment.

Colt flits across your mind, but you know it’s normal. He’ll be there for a while as you continue to sort through this new beginning.

You turn around, smile widening at Porco’s smug expression. The moment untouchable, not even the renewed pounding of the door can ruin it.

After getting redressed, Porco’s glare shoos off the men waiting for the restroom as you both step out.

Though the game ended a while ago, the bar is still stuffed with throngs of people; some wanting to celebrate their team’s victory and the others to wallow in their loss.

You’re not put out when Porco decides to stay. You both got what you wanted after all, and you give him a hug before taking off.

Maybe you’ll see each other again, maybe you won’t.

Either way, you’ve given Porco a parting gift to hold onto. As you slip out of the bar, you cross your arms to shield the hardened nipples poking through your shirt.

That bra wasn’t special, you have others at home.

☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x you #porco x you #porco x reader #aot #aot smut #porco smut #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk smut #attack on titan #dtf only series #mochi-writings #mochimooon

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for agreeing to be a bridesmaid in my cousin's wedding even though I think she's making a huge mistake?

(Emojis so I recognize it 👰‍♀️💍🤵)

So my (24F) cousin Anna (21F) got engaged at the start of December. This was really surprising to me because the last time I saw her at Thanksgiving she was just starting to get back into dating via tinder after a couple bad breakups, and she wasn't actively seeing anyone yet. When I got home for Christmas break, my mother told me that Anna had gotten engaged to and moved in with her new boyfriend, Evan (~22/23M), an army guy she'd met three weeks before and that no one but her immediate family had even met yet.

Our family has always been pretty close, and this was concerning for a lot of reasons. 1) she literally just had a nasty breakup with her rebound boyfriend after a nasty breakup with her last long-term relationship, making this guy her 4th serious boyfriend this year, 2) she historically has very bad taste in men, every boyfriend she has ever had had treated her horribly and she ties her entire self-worth up into how her boyfriend sees her so she's literally never been single for more than a couple weeks since high school, 3) her older sister (28F) literally just left a 13 year abusive relationship with the guy who started grooming her when she was 15 and he was 28, 4) the groom is about to ship out for a 9 month deployment a month after their March wedding and military men are notorious for cheating or divorcing on long deployments, 5) she wants her dream wedding in March (giving us only 2 months to plan and fundraise), despite her parents already being in tight financial straits bc they started building a house right before unexpectedly needing to take in and help provide for their eldest daughter and her two kids and both my grandparents (who live with them) having sudden drops in their health to the point where my grandfather probably will pass in the next couple months and my grandmother could pass at any time (though tbf, were pretty sure no one has told Anna this since my grandparents don't want to scare her and her mom's in denial).

I also just really don't like the groom bc the one time I met him he made a ton of racist and homophobic jokes despite there being multiple black and queer family members present, but if that were the only thing I could probably bite my tongue since I don't think that's something that bothers her or anyone else in the family. I'm just really worried about her, since it seems like she's been going through something for a while and I know how hard this is on my whole family, especially my grandparents, since we all are really scared about what's going to happen to her if things go wrong and considering the circumstances, that's a good chance this will go wrong.

I want to make it clear, I do really want this to work out for her. She's head over heels in love and he seems to care about her too. I just don't expect it to go well and I've said as much to anyone who asked how I feel about it.

Here's where I could be the asshole: Anna's really having a hard time with the entire family telling her this is a bad and impulsive idea, feeling like everyone who has a problem with it isn't supporting her. She called and asked me to be a bridesmaid, specifically because "you've always looked out for and supported me even when no one else did, so I really want you to be my bridesmaid." I told her I would love to be there and support her however she wanted me to, and I fully intend to be the best bridesmaid I can be because I want this to be a happy memory for her and to take as much stress off her and her parents as possible. But now she thinks I support this marriage when I definitely don't and have been open about that with both our moms as well as her sister (the maid of honor), my SIL (also a bridesmaid), and my brother (a groomsman), all of whom are in the same boat.

So, am I the asshole for agreeing to be my cousin's bridesmaid while thinking she's making a big mistake?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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harryyskiwii · 11 months

Text

Summary: You and Harry are childhood friends, but are often labelled as being together.

Pairing: Friend Harry x Reader

Word count: 1,341

A/N: Thank you to the person who requested this! I really hope you enjoy reading it. It was nice to write Harry as the readers friend for a change and not as anything romantic.

As always, please feel free to send in any requests 🥰

You and Harry had been friends ever since you were 13 years old. You met in high school in biology when you were paired up for a task together and ever since then, he’d been by your side.

You had supported Harry throughout the X Factor days, the peak of 1D, the end of 1D, and the start of his solo career and continued to support him as he toured his 3rd studio album.

He had supported you through university as you became a teacher, a lifelong dream you were proud to have achieved, as well as breakups.

Although he was busy and was hardly ever in the same country for longer than 24 hours, he always made the time to speak to you, whether that was just a text back or a phone call.

You were teaching your year 4 class when a notification came through on your Apple Watch from Harry which read “Hey, I’m back in London on Sunday, wanna grab a coffee?” You smiled and took a mental note to reply to it later

You had a short break while you set your children a task to complete and quickly texted Harry back.

“Yeah sure, text me times and I’ll be there😊” you replied.

You didn’t even have to ask him where to meet, you had been going to the same coffee shop in Soho for the last 6 years. Harry always had been a creature of habit.

Sunday came and you got yourself ready for the day, choosing a light pink summer dress with your Doc Martin white sandals and a cross-body bag. It was 29 degrees after all.

You arrived at the coffee shop 10 minutes before Harry, you chose the small booth at the back where it was more private as whenever you two were spotted, there was always a Daily Mail article published the next day about you two ‘dating’ when in fact, neither of you had seen each other in that way. You were too close as friends and anything more would just ruin the friendship, it was purely platonic.

You texted him to let him know where you were sitting to which he responded with a “👍”. A typical Harry response.

It wasn’t long before you saw him walking into the cafe. He smiled at you as he walked towards you.

Cuddling you, he greeted you “Hey you, how are ya?”

“I’m good, not seen you in ages! How are you?” You said as you sat down.

“I know it’s been too long, I’m good. What do you wanna drink and I’ll order?”

“Just a latte please” You smiled and he went up to the counter.

He ordered and came back to the table. He removed his crossbody bag from the black North Face puffer he was wearing and smiled at you.

“What?” You laughed when he didn’t lose eye contact “I’ve just missed you, that’s all. Tell me, what’s been going on?”

The coffee came and you started to tell Harry about how school had been and how you had been given a new class to teach, you also mentioned about your trip to Manchester you had with your 4 girlfriends for a hen party recently and then how you were seeing this guy from Tinder.

“Spill” is all Harry said when you mentioned him. He was always up for listening to you and your random Tinder dates.

“Okay, so I met him last weekend after speaking to him for about 2 weeks, we went for dinner in a nice Italian restaurant but this is the thing”

“Oh no, there’s a but coming. What’s wrong with this guy?” Harry questioned and you laughed.

“Well we then went onto a bar and when we got in there, I assumed we were doing rounds because that’s what I always do no matter who I’m out with, it’s just common sense to pay for one lot of drinks then the other person gets the next but when we went up to the bar, he only ordered for himself. Like he didn’t even ask what I wanted, I was about to ask him what he wanted but he was ordering already and so I assumed he would order for me but he never and the bartender brought over one pint. Do you find that weird?” You asked.

Harry didn’t even pause before he came out with “Trash, trash, trash, not for you. Absolutely not. I’m sorry but move on”

You burst out laughing at his reaction, he was probably right after all.

“So I take it you’re not a fan of this guy then no?” You said sarcastically.

“A person who can’t even buy a drink for the person they’re with isn’t worth your time, like you said it’s just natural to take it in turns” Harry said as he sipped on his black coffee.

“You’re right, I’ll find someone else. Anyway, what’s going on with you?”

He sighed “not a lot to be honest” he said.

“Not a lot? Come on I’ve not seen you for 4 months and not a lot has happened?” You asked digging deeper.

“I’ve genuinely just been working. I’ve written a little bit too but mostly working. I’ve got a new pleasing line coming out soon in the next year or so which is exciting” he said with the most monotone voice ever.

“You don’t seem too excited about it?” You asked noticing his change in demeanour.

“It’s just a lot, but we’re getting there” he forced a smile.

“Are you though? You know I’ve always said about speaking to Jeff if things are getting too much?”

“No it’s fine like I love touring, it’s my favourite part of the job it’s just quite demanding at times”

“Remember, you’re number 1. You need to look after yourself first because without Harry, there’s no show and I know how much you love performing so please make sure you’re looking after yourself. You know I’m always here if you wanna chat anything through” You smiled to him.

“Thanks y/n I appreciate that, I’m maybe just overtired and grumpy at the minute” he laughed.

For the rest of the morning, you spent sipping coffee and chatting with Harry. It was nice to spend time with him, even though it was only a couple of times a year.

You walked out of the cafe and said goodbye to Harry, hugging him.

“Nice seeing you, next time I'm in London we’ll meet up again” Harry said.

“Yeah it was fun! Remember to look after yourself!” you said.

“I will, come here” he said pulling you in for a cuddle.

“Thanks for today, I felt like I really needed it” he said to you.

“It’s no problem, text me anytime okay?”

“Okay, thanks y/n. See you later” Harry smiled as he walked away from the coffee shop.

That night, you were scrolling through Twitter when you saw a photo of you and Harry earlier that day with the headline “Harry Styles meets up with childhood sweetheart for coffee date” You rolled your eyes and laughed at the article which dug into your friendship a little.

You screenshotted the image with the headline and sent it to Harry with “I’m your childhood sweetheart am I? 🤣”

He replied only 10 minutes later “Ffs, next I’ll be dating my mum”

You laughed at his response, there always had been rumours of you two going out whenever you were spotted but if anything it just made you laugh.

And for the rest of that night, you watched as the image of you two hugging was doing the rounds on Twitter, much to your amusement.

#harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles concept #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harrys house #harrystylesoneshot #harry styles x y/n #harrystyles #harry styles one shot

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aphroditesbaby1616 · 2 months

Text

The Bear & His Honey ; Chapter 8 -

♡ Chapter Inspo: Lyrics - (TS) Slut! (1989TV!) ; “You’re not sayin’ you’re in love with me, but you’re going to, half awake taking your chance it’s a big mistake, it might blow up in your pretty face I’m not saying do it anyway, but you’re going to” ♡♡》》𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕐 𝔽𝕀ℂ! ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎𝔼𝔻《《♡♡ ♡ Summary: Carm + Winnie have an evening in together. They get wine drunk and have slightly spiritual talk over pizza. Winnie talks Carm through a nightmare. Carm gets some much needed rest, Some angsty sex ensues. ♡ W/C: 8,902 ♡ Posted Date: 02/20/24 ♡ A/N: (Kinda TL Don't have to read) Hayy besties!! I’ve been lookin' over the fic & judging what y'all like by the chapter likes- ok smut and Soft Dom Carm!! I’m leaning towards Soft Dom Carmy being the main trope for this fic & based on the likes y’all love it too!! He needs to build into it though for sure, Like- i'm not great at writing things close to canon- but what is canon is a pivotal part of what makes up Carmen - which is being severely emotionally underdeveloped in regards to relationships - also sexually. BUT don’t get me wrong- that man is a DOM he just needs a partner who will find that and pull it out of him. Like- y’all I am ALL for the fully anger management therapy version of Carmy tthat'swritten in to one shots here like I THIRST for it- I just want to try and flesh out the journey in between because I find it interesting. But it WILL happen in this fic- as you can tell this fic is a slow burn, its gonna be long, and I know its gonna end with Carmen being fully sexually comfortable (at least with Winnie) so expect some dirty dirty filth, carm is just growin rn okay!! I also find it fun to write kinda virgin! Carmy- I believe its canon he’s never had a gf- but I believe he’d had to have blown off steam some way in NY and hooking up on tinder since it was that time would be popular. Anyhow, enjoy this chapter! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Minimally edited, talks of spiritualism, vomiting, talks of PTSD/Panic Attacks, Sad!Carm, Fluff, (Kinda asshole) But mostly insecure!Carm, Smut! (Talks of it- oral (m) , kissing, etc just slutty shit)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

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The pizza had gotten there pretty quickly but considering the time of night, that was to be expected. Carmen had been sure to order Pepperoni with extra cheese per my request, and by the time the delivery driver had knocked on the door, we had already finished off my entire bottle of wine and I was in the kitchen opening another. He returns to where we had set up in the living room, putting the steaming pizza box on the coffee table. “No way- you need to finish that story, you can't just answer ‘why do you believe in angels’ with ‘I met a guy when I worked at Dunkin’ Donuts and we had breakfast every day until he died’ and that’s just… the end of the story,” he said and I laughed, coming back with 2 very full glasses of Rose and setting them down.

“That is the whole story, you mean you want the long detailed version?” I set down the 2 paper plates and paper towel roll I was holding under my arm. “Yes.. Please- how was this man an angel?” he snorted, his face flush from the alcohol as I could easily assume mine was. “Okay… his name was Harold, he came in every day, and one day, well” I took a bite of my pizza. “Like I said - my parents, they were never married. My Mom was a twin, but her sister died when they were babies- anyhow” I took another bite, realizing he was listening intently.

“Um.. yeah..” I swallow “So, my dad like- wanted nothing to do with us really, I mean- we met him a few times but… we were just like I dunno, puppies or something? Like, my dad didn’t want us, but my mom was all religious- anyway… wait- what was I saying?” I asked and he started laughing, “Fuckin, Dunkin Donuts man, Harold?” He said and I nodded, catching my breath from laughing at my own drunk rambles. “Yess! Okay, so that's why- we had no money! And with Chris and all his appointments and everything, my mom had even less money, so when I was 14 I got a job to be able to buy stuff, so anyway, I was working a shift.” I took another bite of my pizza before a large sip of my wine.

“And the angel… flew in to buy his coffee?” he teased and I nudged him with my foot. “Shut up! He’s actually the coolest person ever just listen!” I said and he nodded, going in for his second slice of pizza. “I was working a shift, and this man comes in… he looked really sick and he was like ‘ oh can I get something to eat I don’t have any money’ or whatever so I didn’t have any money to spare obviously and so I got my manager thinking this is a huge fuckin’ company - yanno being an idiot teen - and my manager was like ‘oh sorry dude can’t help you’ and so…” I took another sip of my wine before continuing.

“I took my 4.25 that I was gonna use for lunch, I figured whatever, cause this dude needs it- he looked really sick, and that he needed to eat. and I remembered, my mom always said you do things when you can cause when the lord sends his angels to test you they aren't in a suit” I shrug and his eyebrows raised. “You gave him your lunch money?” he said and I shrugged “Mmhmm, anyway- not the point this is the point, Carm, so he leaves, right? Harold comes in, he gets his regular black coffee. Goes and sits down at one of the tables by himself, he drinks it all like he usually does, just watching- waiting almost, and before he goes to leave, he comes up to the counter, and guess what he does?” I asked and he shrugs, waiting for me to continue.

“He hands me, four fucking dollars, and twenty-five cents” I exaggerate each number and his eyes widen, “what the fuck” he muttered. “And I’m like ‘ Harold, why are you given’ me this?’ And he’s like ‘Oh I don’t know honey, I just figured you can use a pick me up today’ “ I took another bite of my pizza and he stopped chewing. “That… is fucking nuts,” he said and chuckled a bit and shook his head.

“And then, every day, we’d sit on my first break and he’d tell me stories about his life, the wars he’d been in, his daughters, his wife before she died, and when he stopped comin’ his daughter came in - she told me that he told her to tell me that he wasn’t doing well and that’s why he hadn’t been by- so I went and visited him in the hospital, got to say goodbye, he was so awesome, and he would do that sort of thing all the time- whenever someone needed something Harold was just… there ya know? It’s like God..or something sent him in at a different time every morning to help someone out even in the smallest ways, He was an angel” I said and Carm nodded, putting his plate down and finishing off his own wine.

“Well, now that you didn’t make it sufferingly short, I see why you think that. I’d probably believe in angels too if somethin’ like that happened” He said and I dusted my hands over my empty plate before setting it down on the table. “So you’ve never had an experience like that?” He shrugged looking up while he thinks before shaking his head.

“Nope. Maybe you’re just magical” he pokes my nose causing me to giggle. “I think you” I poke his nose back “are drunk, and we both need to go to bed. Cmon those blankets I put in the dryer went off a few minutes ago. Let's brush our teeth before they get cold” I got up and grabbed our glasses and he took the trash “At least let me help you a little” he said and I smiled. “Such the gentleman.” I teased and he followed me into the kitchen.

I pointed to show him where the ziplocks were and put the cups in the dishwasher, taking the box to the entryway and leaving it to bring to the recycling in the morning. “Oh uhhh…I sleep…with the um-“ I started “rain sounds?” He chuckled a bit, stretching his back. “Mmhmm…” I nodded. “So uh…is that ok?” I asked and he nods “no problem for me”

I turn around and head in the bathroom turning on the light “I assume you didn’t bring a toothbrush, or are we that close already?” I teased and he snorts. “No…I did not. Got an extra?” He asks and I open my bathroom closet “you’re in luck, Sadie’s soon to be sister in law is a dental hygienist” I pull out 2 from my thick stack Sadie had put on me when she came over since she had so many laying around her house.

“Are you a green or blue boy?” I asked and he pouted playfully “no Spider-Man?” He jokes and I giggle. “Blue it is” I put the green one back and popped open the blue one, handing it to him and turning on the sink, wetting my pink electric toothbrush. I put on my anti-cavity toothpaste and handed it over to him, he did the same putting some on his brush.

“Don’t worry, I’ll time you” I said and he raised his eyebrow “what?” He asked and I turned on my toothbrush, giving him a smug smile before popping the brush in my mouth. Every 30 seconds I mumbled ‘next quadrant!’ With a small smile until the 2 minutes was up, spitting my toothpaste out and brushing my tongue as he did the same before rinsing my mouth and shutting off the water.

By the time we got in bed and shut the light off, Persephone had well found her spot between my legs, purring softly as she groomed herself for the night and I opened my phone, going to tik tok. Carm spoons me from behind, nuzzling his face in my shoulder with his arm wrapped around my waist. “What’re we watchin’ babe?” He mumbled and I smile.

“My nightly dose of giggles” I said and scrolled down my for you page, stopping on a video from ‘Secret Brittany’ and my eyes locking on the screen.

Okay guys, lock in alright? This is the plan - the military planning for the next 2-4 months of my life

Carm lets out a snort in to my neck, his hand traveling up and down my ribs as he watches with me.

I’m not going to move to Ireland- yet. I’m going to purchase bumble premium in Ireland, and I’m going to march with Irish men who want me - caveat, they want me, then, I’m going to move, and live my faerie dream

I giggled, “me” I said quietly to myself and he pinches my waist gently causing me to giggle more “you?! You’re not goin’ anywhere I dunno’ what you’re talkin’ about” he held me tighter, nuzzling his nose deeper in to the crook of my neck. “Is someone whiny and jealous? I’m sure with my red hair and thick hips I’d have guys lining up for me” I teased and laced my fingers with his.

He let out a bratty huff “I know that’s why you aren’t allowed to go” he muttered into my skin, causing me to smirk as I scrolled on to the next nonsense video. I gasped as I realized I had forgotten about getting to the next part of my absurd series about some woman divorcing her lying husband and looked up her account and Carm leans in a little closer.

“Wait…” he muttered softly as I scroll through, trying to find the last video I left on. “Who the fuck did I marry…52 parts Winnie?!” He snorts and I giggle “Carmen- shut up, shhh your brain. Get engrossed.” I said and went all the way back to the first part and I glance down at him.

“You know I’ve watched 23 parts but I’ll rewatch- cause you have to see this, and know-“ I lean in so our foreheads were touching and giggle a bit. “I’m scared” he said playfully causing me to laugh more. “Know Carmen -whatever your middle name is- Berzatto, I will always sniff out a lie- I will do my diligence- hear me?” I huff a laugh and he kisses my lips tenderly.

“I would never dream of lying to you” he said honestly before continuing. “I may not tell you everything at once, but I’ll never misguide you, yeah?” He said softly and gently cups the back of my head with his warm hand. I nodded softly against him. “Yeah…” I whisper and kiss his forehead. “My middle names Anthony” he said with a small smile. “Mines - basic. Ok, Now listen to this bullshit” I giggle a bit and turn back around, hitting play.

It was about 3 parts (30 minutes) of Carmen softly gasping, playing with the hem of my shirt in anticipation, and humming in confusion before I heard the first snore come from his lips. I hit pause on the video, putting on my rain asmr sounds on Spotify and gently plugged my phone in, setting my alarms before drifting off into a peaceful, relaxed sleep.

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I woke up to the sounds of violent retching in my bathroom, I rubbed my eyes, confused for a moment before remembering that Carmen had slept over. I padded out to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing my brita jug, before opening my cabinet and grabbing one of the many different glasses that fit a bamboo lid and glass straw, this certain one adorned with cherries. I gently pushed the cup under the ice dispenser, letting a few cubes drop in before filling the cup with chilled water.

I pushed the lid and straw on, popping the Brita back in the fridge before padding back to the bathroom, where I heard dry heaving from outside the slightly cracked door. “Carmy?” I mutter softly, pushing the door further open to see him crouched over the toilet, elbows supporting him as he gagged over the bowl.

“S-sorry.” He muttered, coughing a bit before sitting up and trying to catch his breath. “No- no. Carmen, don’t apologize” I knelt down next to him, gently rubbing his back. “I’m not feeling sick.. so was it a nightmare?” I asked softly, extending the water to him. He sat back on the floor, extending his legs in front of him and sighing deeply.

“I really didn’t mean t’wake you, Winnie. It’s fine…really they happen like every night” he mumbled, taking the glass from my hands. “I have them too! It’s ok, it's ok. S’just a bad dream” I said softly and gently brushed his curls off his forehead that were damp with sweat. He takes a big few gulps of water from the straw, sighing relieved before leaning back and resting on the cold tub.

“Did you…did you wanna talk about it?” I sat next to him, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my cheek on my knee, glancing at him through the moonlight coming through the window. It was hard to see him without my glasses or contacts, but his striking blue eyes were still impossible to miss. “It’s…” he looked at his hands, holding the glass. “Stupid” he said finally. “So..so stupid. I used to..” he sighs, his head dropping back and eyes squeezing back in thought.

“Throw up?” He said like a question, shaking his head quickly. “Like” he looked at me “before I’d…see my boss” in the dim light I could still see his cheeks reddening. I bit my lip gently, leaning over and hugging him silently, my head resting on his chest. “I’m sorry” I said softly and he sighed, setting his water glass down and curling his arm around my frame, rubbing gently. “No.. no that’s not- don’t feel bad” he said softly, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes in to the middle of my back.

I gently shook my head against his chest. “Carmen…” I said softly. “This… this monster…” I said softly and looked up at him, cupping his cheek honestly. “He makes you sick Carmen…what…what he did to you- whatever he did…he creates a panic response in you, baby.” I rub my thumb along the stubble of his jaw that was already peaking out before first light.

He swallows thickly, drinking in every word I was saying. “He…he…” I look at the floor, trying to find my words. “He instilled that voice in you” I said, my lip quivering slightly and he put his thumb to my lips gently to stop the motion. “What? What voice, honey?” He asked softly.

I giggled into his finger, still slightly wine-drunk. “Your inner-saboteur. Just like Ru-Paul says” I gently nibble his finger, causing him to really laugh. “My inner-saboteur” he repeated with a smile. “Yes” I said gently and kissed his forehead. “Let him go, Carm, fuck that guy! Fuck your inner-saboteur. I’m still a tad bit drunk, but c’mon- brush your nasty throw-up teeth” I said teasingly and giggle, resting my forehead on his and gazing into his icy blue eyes.

“And come back to bed, I’ll introduce you to Drag Race tomorrow” I said softly, pecking his lips tenderly. “Okay?” I gaze into his eyes, looking for agreement. “Okay…” he said softly, a smirk adorning his lips.

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I wake up to the feeling of Persephone jetting off my right thigh like an Olympic-launching pad at the sound of my alarm going off, soothing chirping birds filling the bedroom from my hatch alarm clock Sadie’s Parents had gotten me as a housewarming gift. I groan softly at the reverberating pain in my thigh muscle from her sudden attack, reaching down and soothing the ache with a slow rub from my hand.

Carmen was draped around me, his arm tucked protectively around my waist and his prominent nose nuzzled in my neck, the feeling of short, hot breaths hitting my shoulder at an even pace. I gently leaned over, tapping the top of the clock that was slowly getting brighter, so it stopped its cry of awakening,

I rubbed my face tiredly before I gently pried Carmys sleeping fingers off of my waist, slowly getting up off of the mattress, so as to not wake him. My t-shirt brushed just below my lower cheeks, goosebumps crawling up my legs from the chilly apartment air. I nuzzled my feet into my pink bear-claw slippers, and quietly shuffled out to the kitchen, silently pulling the bedroom door shut behind me.

I sighed tiredly, stretching my back and arms just at the end of the hall, moaning softly at the blood rushing to my muscles at the action. “Mmhmm” I mumbled at Sephy hungry cries, scratching my scalp in a sleepy haze.

“Comin’ babygirl” I muttered softly, shuffling out to the kitchen and opening the cabinet, I pulled out a tin full of wet food and cracked it open with my forefinger, taking out a spoon from the drawer. She meowed impatiently, causing my tired eyes to roll up involuntarily.

“Persephone” I muttered, tired but stern. “Jesus Christ should I call ASPCA?” I joked, taking a spoon out of the draw and nudging it closed with my hip quickly before spooning half the can in the bowl and chopping it up half-hazardly, before setting it on the floor with a clink. She dove in, eating like she’d been starved.

I put a pod in my Nespresso machine, and rested my chin in my hand as my latte brewed, scrolling through my ‘For You’ page, sending a few videos to Sadie that made me stifle a laugh so as to not wake Carm. I opened my fridge, pouring some half and half in to my cup that I’d already filled with ice before pouring my espresso over the top and mixing it up before sealing the lid.

I shuffled over to the couch, sitting down and continuing to scroll through videos as I sipped my latte. By the time I’d finished it, Persephone was sitting on the cat tree grooming herself in the morning light and the clock read 8:32. I got up, going over to my record player and shuffled through my selection of records, settling on Ctrl by SZA that Syd had gotten me. I bit my lip gently, thinking of her.

I really hope she wasn’t mad at me…for too long. Thinking back on the conversations she had with us about her ‘boss’ who I now knew was Carm, he could be a serious asshole and he…emotionally led her on in a way? And they never explicitly mentioned their feelings but it sounds like there definitely was feelings..My thoughts are broken by the static of the record as it switches to the next song and Love Galore starts playing.

I did my usual routine of walking around, pulling open my blinds to let the light in before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. I washed Sephys bowl and set it on the small drying rack before setting a pan on the stove to heat. I opened the fridge, resting my hands on my hips, and realizing I have no idea what Carmen eats- if he eats breakfast. It’s a Saturday though…I settle on the safe options of eggs and toast.

I popped 4 pieces of bread into the toaster, humming along to Doves in The Wind while I cracked 4 eggs into a glass measuring cup and whisking them with a fork. I added a little bit of garlic salt and pepper, mixing it again before dropping some butter in the pan and letting it melt. I got out 2 of my pink heart shaped plates and set them down in preparation, before pouring the eggs in the pan. It was quick to scramble so I put the toaster down, and I was shuffling over to the table just as the bedroom door opened.

Carm genuinely looked refreshed. The bags under his eyes were mostly gone, and his eyes didn’t look red and exhausted. I look over at the clock, 9:22. “Good Morning, Chef. I hope scrambled eggs and butter toast is acceptable? With jelly of course” I went over, clicking off my record player that had stopped spinning a few minutes prior. “You made breakfast?” He asked, looking over to the table.

It took all of my strength to keep a casual face at his deep, husky morning voice. “Mmhmm!” I hum and come back to the table and he followed. “Coffee?” I ask and he nods “thank you- wow. I can’t remember the last time I.. actually ate in the morning. What time?-“ he looks over to the stove and his eyebrows raise. “Shit.” He snorts. “I guess your bed was comfortable” he sits.

I smirk proudly “well I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your stay so far at Winnie’s bed and breakfast” I said and went to the kitchen, opening my cabinet and smiling wide at the perfect mug for him to use. I set it down on the counter, “cream?” I asked opening the fridge. “Yes, What are you cheesin’ about?” He teased and I giggle “somethin’ - just wait” I took out the cream and set it on the counter and popped in an americano pod.

“Oh! Forks! Sorry. Forgot my meds this morning. Let me go do that” he chuckles as I quickly shuffled off. I go in to the bathroom and took my medications with a handful of sink water before coming back and seeing his coffee was done. “Perfect!” I took it out, putting cream in. “Sugar?” I asked and he shook his head “no” he said and I stirred the coffee, putting the spoon in the sink.

I carefully come over, covering the art on the mug until I set it down in front of him with a giggle. “A Bear mug for Bear and it has a cute, true saying, ‘A hug a day keeps the lonelies away’ “ I giggled. “See that one’s me,” I point to the smaller one, “and that’s you,” I pointed to the bigger one “cause’ you give teddy-bear hugs” I smiled. He looks up at me, his blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, an adorable smirk on his face.

“You…” he starts and shakes his head, pulling me into his lap and I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck loosely to steady myself. He kisses all over my face, causing giggles to involuntarily fall from my lips and my eyes to squeeze shut at the quick short pecks that tickled like butterflies, my heart fluttering the same way in my chest. “Are so fucking cute” he hugs me close and I giggled, wrapping my arms around him.

“Thank you” he kissed my neck sweetly before releasing me and I got up. “Wow, an ambush, I do take payment in kisses but warn me so I can count!” I joked, sitting down in my seat and he rolled his eyes playfully, a pink blush adorning his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Forks!” I said and he laughed, shaking his head again.

“Does that happen all the time?” He asked and I nod, heading over to the drawer and grabbing 2 forks. “Yup. It’s worse if I don’t have my meds” I put his fork in front of him. “Hope it’s ok” I said and sit down “no- this is…this is great Winnie, thank you really” he said taking a bite and nodding. “5 stars Chef” he said and I laughed before taking a bite of mine.

“Mmhmm totally I’m coming for your spot! Better get worried these eggs’ll put you out of business” I joked and he snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mm- I think Starbucks should be a little scared” he teased and I giggle a bit, nibbling on my toast. “That’s all Nespresso that thing is amazing”

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When we finished breakfast, Carm takes our plates and his mug over to the sink and starts washing them, along with the pan I’d used. “Wow…he cooks and cleans? You sure you aren’t taken already?” I joked, wiping down the table with a Lysol wipe. He chuckled “nope, haven’t gotten any serious offers” he joked back with a smile.

“Did you wanna see my little library craft room thing?” I asked, throwing the wipe away in the garbage. He puts the now clean dishes on the drying rack. “Course, what do you…craft?” He asked, following me to the second bedroom and I opened the door. “Oh..lots of things. I sew,crochet,read, make jewelry, I paint sometimes” I shrugged and he looked around at all the half finished projects.

“This is cute” he hummed, picking up a half finished star and moon granny square blanket off the back of my pink desk chair. “Oh! That’s for Syd’s birthday!! She’s such an astrology girl, it's one of those things we can talk about forever.” I smiled and he nods a bit. “Why haven’t you ever come around more? The uh- the restaurant” He asked as he looked over the intricate stitches and I shrugged, picking up stray crochet needles scattered on my desk and putting them in the little drawer where they belonged.

“Oh.. well Sadie and I - it’s kinda fancy for one thing, and umm..we don’t like people and it’s been busy for months “ I laugh a bit “fancy huh?” He teased, setting the blanket back down and walking over to the wall of pictures I had next to my overflowing bookshelf. “It has been pretty busy” he said as he gazed over the different memories of girls trips Sadie and I had taken as well as pictures of nights out with Syd.

“Also as you can probably tell- Sadie and I do not belong in a cool fancy place like that” I giggled and he shook his head rolling his eyes playfully with a smile. “I don’t either but it’s what brings the business right?” He looked over the books. “Damn, you read a lot” he said and I giggled. “Mmhmm! Work at a bookstore” I said and he pulled one of my most well loved books out, “this one of your slutty books?” He teased and I roll my eyes.

“Ha.ha. No- this is an amazing book, you’re saying you’ve never read this book?” I took it from his hands. “My brother gave it to me” I said and flipped to the second blank page where ‘From Chris To Twinnie’ was scribbled in his chicken scratch handwriting. His eyebrows raised. “Oh…no- no. Never heard of it.” He said and my jaw dropped. “Never heard of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane” I scoff a big smile coming to my face.

“Okay, so, now I see” I nod, holding the book to my chest with a teasing smirk on my face. “See what?” He asked “I see why you…I dunno” I shrug. “Don’t like to have fun “ I poke his chest and he scoffs. “I have fun I am totally fun!! Are you saying I’m boring?” He asks, slightly offended and I laugh. “No! I’m saying that… the whole point of this book is that life, our journey to self discovery is useless if you have no intention of loving or being loved.” He raised his eyebrows before starting to laugh.

“A rabbit said that?” He questioned and I shook my head “no he learned it. C’mon let me do skincare on you and read it you’ll love it” I said and he blushed a bit. “Why do I have bad skin?” He joked with a teasing smile. “No you have nice skin but let me take care of it” I said and led him to the bathroom by his hand, getting out my face wash “wash your face with this” I said and turned the water on warm, and grabbed a clean face towel from the cabinet with embroidered strawberries on the hem. “dry your face with this” I instructed.

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I gently put on the sparkly under eye patches under Carm’s eyes and he scrunched his nose adorably. “The fuckin’ hell why do you do this” he muttered “feels like a slug” he said causing me to giggle “oh my god such a boy. This will make your pretty blue eyes much more noticeable without all the darkness from never sleeping” I gently smoothed them out, booping his nose with the tip of my finger when I was done.

“Mm whatever you say this is Winnie’s Salon after all” he says and I tut “no! This is Winnie’s beauty parlor. I'm not cutting your hair today” I said and his eyes fluttered open, looking up at me with a small smile. “They look pretty on you” he said, causing me to blush. “You’re a big flirt” I gently played with his hair and his eyes fluttered back shut, humming softly in satisfaction. “Did you want me to read to you?” I asked and his smile grew.

“Please. It’s been a long time actually, I’m excited to hear about this rabbit” he said and I grab the book from next to us, opening to the first page and starting.

“Chapter One”

By the end of the first page, he was glancing up at me, watching me speak each word and smiling slightly when I did slightly different voices for each character. At the end of the first chapter, I close the book and he pouts a bit. “What? No keep going, that was getting cute…she loves that bunny” he said and I giggle. “Yes she does, if you want to hear the next chapter you have to come see me again. Plus, I’m getting hungry”

I peeled his eye patches off, gently rubbing in the remnants with my ring fingers and he smiled softly. “Mm…you cook breakfast, pamper me, and read to me? I think this is my new hang-out spot for Saturdays” he jokes and I giggle a bit. “Good, so next Saturday you’ll get to see what happens in the next chapter.” I said and he sat up, sitting against the headboard next to me.

“Sounds like a steal for me” he smiled adorably, his skin still glowing from the serum I’d applied. I looked at his lips, then back at his eyes before straddling his hips and kissing him deeply. He hesitantly moves his hands to my hips and rubs with his thumbs gently. I kiss down his jaw over his stubble to his neck, nipping gently and he groans softly “Winnie” he said, gripping my hip a bit tighter. I gently tug on his ear with my teeth. “I think it’s hot you’re such a talented chef and like when I cook for you” I said softly in his ear, gently tangling his curls in my fingers as I continue to kiss and nip his neck.

I grind my hips on his and he moaned softly “Winnie.” He said softly, moving his hand to my back “I-i…” he swallowed thickly and I stopped, sitting up and looking at him. “What? Did I..did I do something wrong?” I asked. He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “I-I don’t…we shouldn’t” he rubs over his chin, thinking.

“Do you…regret last night?” I asked, getting off his lap and sitting crisscross beside him on the bed. He shook his head again “no- god no that was fuckin’ amazing Winnie I-“ he blushed, looking down at his lap. “I’ve uh never…” he cleared his throat, his eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. “I- I’m surprised I lasted that long with you- a-and…I’ve never done that before..what we did in the shower and I’m still- I’m thinkin’ about it” he swallowed thickly, finally looking at me and I nodded slowly.

“Okay…I think we should talk more about our sexual experiences” I said and bit my lip. His face goes pale, his mouth opening and closing a few times like he was trying to find the words. “Uh- I” he stuttered. “I’ll go first…what uh- what do you wanna know?” I asked casually and play with the hem of my shirt. “Uh- well..that’s- I don’t… I don’t know a lot” he said quietly, clearly embarrassed by the way his eyes darted away from mine again.

“Okay so…how about this then. I’ve slept with 24 people, including you. But most of the bulk of those were back home, I’ve slept with you and one other person since I’ve been here, how many have you been with?” I asked and his eyes widen. “Twenty four?” He repeats, his mouth dropping slightly. I scoff “what so guys can sleep with 100 women by the time their 24 but I can’t sleep with 2 people a year over the course of nearly 10 years?!” I asked my tone laced with annoyance.

He shook his head quickly “no-n-no Winnie no…I’ve….ive slept with less then 8 people…I’ve had sex like…maybe…” he took a deep breath, looking away and swallowing thickly “I don’t- I don’t like this game anymore or- or questions. Or whatever” he said his cheeks going red. I bite back a laugh at the irony of him being so insecure by holding my tongue between my teeth and I gently touch his bicep. “Look at me” I said softly and he shook his head inching away from my touch a bit.

“Carmen. When I said no one has made me cum like that- I mean it. I was fully seeing stars bro I was shaking Carm.” I laughed and he looked over, eyebrows raising. “You really meant that?” He asked and I roll my eyes playfully. “I wasn’t even gonna fuck you a second ago I was gonna suck your dick because I’m sore. Literally yes you’re amazing Carmen you’re so fucking hot.” I said and he bit his lip, looking at his lap.

“But I can’t…like- when…when we were in the shower” he muttered “that was-“ he swallowed thickly “I’ve never…I’ve never had sex in the shower before and-“ he sighs deeply. “I don’t want to get attached.” He looks at me finally, and I was silent for a moment, my brain filing through all the possible things he could mean. I settled on the safest response that would have the least possible chance of rejection. “Like- you don’t want tooo…” I questioned and he raised his eyebrows waiting for me to continue.

“To get attatched to fucking me on your days off?” I question and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Winnie” he muttered, slightly annoyed. “That’s not what I mean Y’know that” he said and I bit my lip. “Tell me what you mean then, Carmen” I said and he looked up at me. He stared at me for what felt like forever, studying me, my features, I tried my best to decipher what was going on behind his eyes but only a week of knowing each other I was rolling blanks.

“I don’t want to get attached to this. Winnie, to you. I don’t want to do this, we can’t do this.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and the small change in body language felt like an ocean of distance was suddenly created between us emotionally. My mouth suddenly felt dry, and my throat was growing an enormous lump. “Why” I finally choke out and he looks back at me. “Because I told you, Winnie, I’m not boyfriend material. What this” he motions between the 2 of us “Is, can’t keep going like this. Fuckin’ cuddling and shit..”

I felt like I wanted to burst out into tears, not more than 20 minutes ago he was dreamily looking up at me while I read to him and now he was telling me that he won’t allow himself to be around me, and relax. “Oh” I scoff, my eyes narrowing and crossing my arms over my own chest.

“You are such a little baby,” I said and his eyebrows furrow, “what?” He asked. “A little fucking. Baby.” I repeat myself and he blinks a few times, “What the fuck do you mean?” He asked and I got up. “You are an angry baby, because you realize that I have more experience in the bedroom!” I laugh dryly. “Carmen. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You want this. Look at me, and tell me the last fucking time you relaxed on your day off? Hm?” I raise my eyebrows, shrugging and waiting for an answer.

“You don’t fucking know me, Winnie” he scoffs. “I don’t- I don’t give a fuck that you have more experience than I do. Clearly, it wasn’t with anyone good! Per your fuckin statement 5 minutes ago.” I shook my head. “You’re right! You’re right Carmen. I was begging for your cock- and you wanna know something? You loved it. You were pussy drunk, Carmen, you- you are just so fucking obsessed with depriving yourself of joy, of pleasure that instead of allowing yourself to fuck me you’d rather be in your apartment all alone and cum in your hand? Fine. Have fun” I shrugged, motioning to the bedroom door.

He sat there, jaw dropped. “You-“ he closed his eyes in shock, shaking his head as he digested what I just said to him. “You are so-“ he sighed, looking at me and his eyes flicker to my chest. I smirk, “fuck. Im gonna fucking hate myself this week. C’mere” he said and I knelt on the bed, straddling him once more and kissing him deeply. I pushed him back on the bed roughly. “Tell me you don’t want me” I said and peel off my shirt, exposing my breasts and already peaked nipples shining with their little black studs, already hardened due the adrenaline coursing through me.

“Fuck off Winnie you know I fucking want you” he grabs my breast, playing with my nipple gently and I bit my lip. “I haven’t even showed you half of what I can do- and you’re gonna throw the towel so soon?” I rest my palms on his shoulders for leverage as I ground into his hips, the friction causing his eyes to flutter shut and his head to fall back onto the pillow in a low whimper.

“N-no- no you’re right. You’re right Winnie fuck” he moaned, gently tugging at my jewelry causing me to gasp in pleasure. I kiss him hard, circling my hips into his at a torturously slow pace causing him to whimper and groan into my mouth which made a small smile come to my lips. I pulled away slightly, our lips barely an inch away.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” My eyes flutter to his, my hips completely still. His breath quivers “yes” he said barely above a whisper. “Tell me, say it, Carmy. What do you want?” I ask and kiss his neck tenderly. “I-I want you t-to” he swallows thickly when I nip at the tender spot below his ear. “I want you to suck my cock” he said, eyes fluttering shut and cheeks going red. I smirk, happy with the admission, but still unsatisfied with the way he was denying himself.

“Okay baby, since you asked so nice, like such a good boy” I said, his lip tugging between his teeth and

I kissed down his chest, his abs tightening when I made my way over them, my tongue dragging slowly down the divot in the middle. He watches me with hooded eyes, hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were turning white, his chest raising up and down deeply at a quick rate as he watches me worship him.

I straddle his calves, gently rubbing his fully hardened length through his sweatpants and he whines softly “please-please Winnie” he breathed impatiently. I smirked, my hands rubbing long teasing strokes up and down his thighs. “Do you really want me to suck your cock, Carmen?” I asked and he swallows thickly. “Winnie” he wined, looking away and his cheeks heating.

I stopped touching him and my hands raised to my breasts, gently palming and squeezing them before playing with my hard nipples and my head dropping back as I moaned. “You don’t want me, baby?” I asked and his hand traveled to his pants and I stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “Do you want me Carmen?” I asked, taking his hand and putting his forefinger and ring finger in my mouth, my tongue swirling around them and hollowing my cheeks at the base of his hand.

He bit his lip harshly as I did so. “So so fucking bad.” He said softly, I pulled off his fingers with a ‘pop’ and tugged him out of his boxers, leaning down and spitting the puddle of saliva I had collected in my mouth while sucking on his fingers and pump his length with the wetness, twisting and getting it all wet. “Holy fucking shit” he mumbled, a moan falling from his lips and his head falling back momentarily but he was quick to put his eyes back on me.

“Does that feel good baby?” I ask sweetly, my thumb brushing over his tip. He nods “shit- yes s-so good baby” his abs clenched in pleasure as I slowly dragged my thumb over his slit teasingly. “Mmm the noises you make are so sexy baby I love it” my other hand dances around his stomach, my nails brushing the toned skin causing him to shiver slightly.

“Oh you adorable thing” I said and leaned down, kissing his tip gently and his head drops back, a breathy moan falling from his lips, his knee jerking slightly under me. I stuck out my tongue, slowly licking his tip from the back of my throat all the way to the tip of my tongue, flicking it teasingly causing him to whimper beautifully. “You have such a nice cock baby” I praised, pumping him slowly, twisting my hand how I knew he liked based on the way his stomach would tense when I did it repeatedly.

I look up at him, his cheeks, bright red, curls stuck to his forehead in sweat, “do you like it when I tug harder” I did so and he whines “or softer?” I went back to my original firmness and he breathed out, I could tell no one had really ever given him this kind of attention during a blow job before- so I was relishing in the fact that no matter if he did claim to hate himself this week, every time he came after a long day it would be at the thought of me. So I’m pulling out every stop, every theatric - I’m going to make this magical.

I was already fucking him dumb and I had barely used my mouth yet. We had a lot of work to do, to mold him into the kind of partner I knew he yearned to be. And whether we continued to pretend to be ‘friends with benefits’ while he learned, or he decided he wanted more- I didn’t care. Because I knew this man wanted to dominate, and I was dedicated to getting it out of him.

When I got no verbal response my hand stopped moving and I gently tap the head of his cock against my tongue getting his attention. “Words.” I said softly, smiling sweetly as I waited for a response. “Hard. H-hard. Please.” He said and I continued as he requested and he grunts “fuck yes…mmm twist baby like-“ he moans louder when I oblige. “Yes. Yes.” he breathed and I smirked, moving my hand faster.

“Good boy, I love it when you tell me what feels good” I said and my hand that was on his stomach travels to his v-line, my forefinger soothingly stroking as I took his tip in my mouth, he lets out the hottest noise between a moan and a cry that I’d heard a man make, before I heard the sounds of the fabric beginning to give beneath his death grip. I pulled my lips off and stopped my hand from jacking him off, taking my hand off his stomach and pulling my hair out of the bun it was in.

His eyes shot open as soon as I stopped, a small gasp tumbling from his lips as my tight curly bangs fell over my forehead, when they were blown out they were the 80s look I loved to achieve with my hair- but my bangs were extra curly naturally since they weren’t weighed down like the rest of my hair and I’d gotten it wet last night. I pushed it off my shoulders, taking his hand and putting it on my head. “Go as hard as you want. I’ll squeeze you twice if it’s too much.” I said and started again before he could reply.

He whined hotly as I took him down inch by inch until he was lightly hitting the back of my throat, he was mostly just stroking the back of my head but when he felt me swallow around his tip it was like something in him flicked on. He grips the back of my hair “f-fuck- god do that again- fuck do it again Winnie” he said, pushing my head down gently. I closed my eyes, saying a silent and quick prayer to every god ever that I’d fully digested my breakfast, and that my gag reflex had gotten much better since trying to train it with my toothbrush before bed the past few years.

I took a deep breath, before fully relaxing my throat and pushing his tip past my tastebuds and I gently stroke his thighs, more to soothe myself that I could do it, before pushing deeper. He cries out, moaning what sounded more like a pleasured growl, his fingers tugging my hair lightly. I knew I had to stop pushing before I either hurt myself or actually gag and embarrass myself. I swallowed around him slowly, my throat fluttering around him for a few moments.

I feel his muscles all tense beneath me, his abs tightened, stomach clenched, fingers digging into my scalp, eyes screwed shut, veins protruding in his neck. He would be cumming in the next few seconds so - I stopped. I pull off, sitting up, a string of saliva pulling from his cock to my lips as I did so. My lips swollen, jaw sore, chin and neck slick with saliva. I smirked as he gasps, his orgasm flowing away like dandelion seeds in the breeze and he looked at me, his pupils blown with lust.

“W-why. Why did you stop?” He asked, he almost sounded angry. I shrug, “do you deserve to cum, Carm? You you deserve to feel good?” My fingers dance around his stomach and v line causing goosebumps to appear on his skin and his cock twitches, aching to be touched. “Please Winnie, fucking- let me finish” he grumbled, looking at the ceiling.

“Let you” I scoff. “Do you even think you deserve that. Carmen? Hm? Put enough hours in this week? Plan enough new catering orders?” I taunt, goading him into showing me any thread of dominance in him I could tug on. He looks at me, his eyes darkening “suck my fucking cock. Winnie.” he ordered and I smirk. “Ooo, making demands now, I only serve those who deserve it” I drag my forefinger from his balls to his tip, smiling at the reaction of his stomach clenching and cock jumping in a twitch.

“I deserve it” he grumbled, not meeting my eyes. “Hm?” I hum, ghosting my hand around his cock but not gripping it. “I said I fucking deserve it” he looks into my eyes as he said it. I lean down taking him back in my mouth and he sighs in relief, I pump the bottom half of his length as I take him back into my throat. It was barely 2 minutes of him spilling profanity, muttering my name, whines and moans, and only swallowing around him 2 times before I felt him fully tense up again, and an enormous load shot down the back of my throat, so much that I had to swallow 2 times after pulling off of him to get it all down.

“Holy shit” I laugh taking a deep breath and he was laid there, trying to catch his breath “sorry” he said between breaths, eyes blissfully shut and cheeks flushed as well as his chest from his release. “No its…it’s fine just. Holy shit. You just dumped a generation down my throat” I joked and he laughs lightly.

I quickly fix his boxers and laid next to him after pulling my shirt back on. “How the fuck did you do that?” He asked and I shrug a bit, pushing my hair behind my shoulders. “Dunno. Just tried it. Glad you like it though. How’d it feel?” I asked and he blushed, averting my gaze shyly. “Uh…” he furrows his eyebrows thinking. “Kinda like…your pussy but … like way tighter, and harder if that makes sense.” He looked back at me and I giggle.

“Hm…ok. It was kinda cool, also really hot, also pretty freaky- when I went to wipe my chin, my hand touched my throat and I felt your dick like…” I giggle, covering my mouth at his shocked expression. “Holy fuck that’s hot” he said and I nod. “Felt weird. I’ll have you feel it next time” I said and yawned a bit, sitting up.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth then you wanna nap?” I asked and he nodded “I’m not sure why- we’ve done basically nothing but I’m exhausted.” He said and rubs his face. I shrugged, “just your body catching up while it can on rest. I’ll be back.” I said and padded off to the bathroom.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fic #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto x oc

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hoedamn-eron · 10 months

Text

baby, please - part 4

You were just coming down with something, that was all. The flu, food poisoning...or something...

Warnings: Throwing up, so emetophobia warning. Like one or two mentions of drinking alcohol. Mentions of failed protection. Spot the accidental FNAF reference. Proofread, again, lazily. Word count: 4,479 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

These are your texts. These are Craig's/Tinder's texts.

Part 3 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 5

Santiago was gone by the time you woke up the day after your date. You hadn’t expected him to be there, at all. You’d have been more surprised if he had stayed for breakfast.

He at least tidied up after himself, putting back the plant pot he had knocked over, although it looked like he had just shoved the plant back in with the way it was tilted on an angle. You snorted before grabbing the pot, quickly fixing it up and giving your poor peace lily some water.

You’d had fun last night. Even though you’d both agreed that this was probably not going to lead to anything else and was a one-time deal, you would probably meet up with Santi again if the opportunity arose. He was a good laugh, and the perfect gentleman, even if he did knock over your plant.

Not to mention he was insanely good looking and gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Giggling at the memories of last night, you made yourself some coffee, intending to catch up on a few emails as you made your breakfast. Sundays had always been your day to clean and tidy up your apartment, usually to feel fresh and organised for the week ahead. You had no plans to leave today; you’ll prepare some stuff for work in the afternoon, so you had a head start when you go in on Monday, but your plan was to lounge around and watch Netflix.

But first you needed to shower, because you had all kinds of funk going on.

Emily cornered you the minute she stepped into the office on Monday. She demanded you tell her how well your date went with Santi since he didn’t ‘give anything up all weekend’.

You shrugged at her. “It was fun, we had a good time.”

Emily waited for you to say more, but when she was met with silence, she waved her hands at you frantically. “Is that it?”

You snorted. “I don’t know what you want me to say, we went out, we agreed we weren’t looking for anything serious, and that was that.”

“So my match making didn’t work? You went out, ‘had a good time’, and nothing came from it?”

“Let’s be honest, Emily, I’m probably never going to see Santi again.”

One week

The launch was weeks away, and your week was filled with meetings, and looking into getting new clients on board. You had tried reassuring the other teams in your office that there will be potential but some of the more difficult members of your office didn’t want to listen to you. They had already started headhunting.

It had put you in a bad mood that your co-worker’s didn’t seem to have any faith in you, despite your reputation and how long you had been there. You knew what you were doing, you weren’t an idiot. You studied for four years to get where you were today. By midday, you had already plugged in your earphones, asserting that no-one talks to you for the rest of the day.

As it turned out, it was another late lunch day for you, you sitting yourself down to eat when everyone was packing up to leave. It was Friday, and everyone was chatting about their weekend plans. You had had plans with Beth but she had cancelled earlier that morning due to a ‘wedding emergency’. She hadn’t elaborated and you hadn’t asked, just sent her your love and help if she needed anything.

You relax your shoulders, almost groaning at the ache in them. There was a lot going on, and you hadn’t had the chance to unwind at all. Emily had been pestering you again about Santi. You told her that you just weren’t interested in anything more, and neither was he. If she thought there was someone else you should meet, then sure, you would give it a go, but she didn’t seem to understand that you had both wanted something casual.

Also, you really needed to get your AC fixed. It was getting warmer as the summer was approaching, and you couldn’t keep going the way you were. You told yourself you will be at home next weekend and get your AC fixed. You made a mental note to look up electricians when you get home.

Two weeks

God you were tired. And moody. Your period was due in a few days, so it must have been that. You better check your supplies for when you go to the store tomorrow. Not only that, but work was running you ragged, and it was really taking it out of you, and the hot weather was not helping. Thank God it was the weekend, and you were finally getting your AC looked at.

You were thinking about your date with Santiago and decided that you were going to download Tinder again. You had fun with Santi, so why couldn’t you have fun like that again? It didn’t have to be anything long term, but if you happened to meet someone who wanted a little more, you would give it a go. You were open to anything in the end.

You were scrolling left and right through Tinder when the electrician arrived. He had lots of good reviews on Google, and he seemed really reliable. You had contacted him as soon as you could, and he replied within an hour. He turned up when he said he would, and he’d even fixed your AC an hour after arriving.

As you paid him and thanked him profusely as he left, a notification went off on your phone. It was a match with a guy called Craig, and he’d already messaged you. You grinned and snorted at the cheesy pick-up line.

Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?

Wow. Think I might need some nachos for all that cheese.

I’m sorry. My buddy and I have a bet going on to see who would get a response from the worst pick up lines and you just won me $50 so thank you!

Glad I could help. Was that the only reason you swiped right?

No, you’re genuinely beautiful. The bet was just a bonus.

You raise your eyebrow and grin.

Well, aren’t you just a charmer?

I aim to please. So what is it you do for a living?

You talked well into the afternoon; Craig was in fact charming, and a sweetheart. And he was a fan of cheesy pick-up lines, and not just for bets. You gave him your number later in the afternoon, and promptly forgot about Tinder.

Three weeks

You were late.

For work and your period.

But it was fine, your body was never like clockwork. Sometimes you were late and sometimes you weren’t. There wasn’t any reason to worry, it was only a few days. It was probably from the adrenaline of the product launch.

What you were going to worry about was the fact that traffic was ten times worse than it usually was and you were absolutely about to get a severe warning from your boss if you didn’t start moving soon. The launch was tonight, and you had so many things to still finalise. You sensed you were going to be spending your day in the office going at 100 miles an hour.

You called Emily to tell her to get started without you, that you had all the faith in the world that your team could make the right decisions and hold for the fort until you got there. At least then no-one would be behind and on schedule.

You made it into the building ten minutes late.

“You’re late,” Harriet, your boss, muttered to you with her arms folded across her chest as you practically run into your workspace.

“Yeah, sorry, traffic was terrible. Emily, where are we up to?” you ask, throwing your bag and jacket on your chair.

“Uh…” Emily read through her notes, her brow furrowed before nodding. “We are good to go on the slideshows, the banners, and the drink display. We’re still waiting on the DJ and the food itself is fine, it just the waiting staff - ”

“The waiting staff? They confirmed weeks ago!”

“The flu has been going round and they’re trying to replace the ones they have off.”

You let out a groan of frustration before taking Emily’s notes from her. “You get in touch with the DJ, I’ll sort out the servers. Anything else?”

“Yeah, the mechanic for the wraps on the cars have sent over their invoice,” Emily bit her lip. “I don’t think they’re sending them out until it’s paid.”

“Send it over to accounting, let the client know, and get on it ASAP. I can’t believe this is all happening on launch day!” you snap, already punching in the catering company’s number to ask them for an update.

Turns out, half of their workforce was out of commission because they had been hit with the flu and it had spread like wildfire. You tried not to lose your temper, it wasn’t their fault, and it wouldn’t be your company that was affected by it either. You told them you understood, that if they could send whoever they could for the event, that would be great.

You slammed the phone down and searched up any temp agencies that may have had any servers available. You contacted a fair few, leaving messages and sending emails, you could do nothing but wait and move on to something else that required your immediate attention. Of course, the client had some last-minute changes to the flyers that were also finalised weeks ago and were sent to print last week. You had wanted to put your foot down on that one, but queried with the printer company anyway, to see if they could print out over five hundred flyers and have them ready for collection by that afternoon.

By some small miracle, they said they could for an extra cost and if you sent over the prints in an hour.

You got on the phone with the client and made the adjustments then and there. With the completed flyers accepted and checked off, you sent them over to the printing office with minutes to spare.

Then one of the temp agencies came back to you to say they did have some spare servers and they could work that evening. You thank whatever God is up there that someone was on your side that day!

You send an update in the office team chat, where Emily also confirmed the DJ is already on the way from Orlando. His gig that morning had ran over and he hadn’t been able to confirm back to Emily’s email regarding the launch, but he was now on his way.

You sighed, closing your eyes and sitting back in your chair, rubbing at the headache in the middle of your forehead. You needed a drink.

“We did it!” cried Emily. “We fixed the problems!”

“Only just,” you muttered, your eyes still closed. “I could do with more servers.”

By the end of the day, another catering company managed to send over a few more servers. You sent the invoices over to accounting, the last of your jobs for the day over.

You made it home with less than an hour to get ready for the event. You were feeling a little woozy, probably from the mess that was today, and how you hadn’t really eaten. You make yourself a quick dinner, just some spaghetti in a tomato sauce, and shower while the sauce was cooking.

Once you were ready, and looking fabulous, you left your apartment, not before you sent a quick photo of yourself to your friends, sending over ‘Final night! 🎉’. You were praised with congratulations and love hearts from your best friends.

You even got a text from Craig, which caused you to smile.

Well done, superstar! Let’s celebrate together soon.

You sent him a quick text back thanking him and telling him you’d definitely take him up on his offer as a notification for your Uber came through.

Making your way into the large venue, Emily was already shoving a drink of champagne in your hands. “We did it! We worked our asses off and nearly crashed and burned, but we did it!”

You give her a large smile, and cheersed her own champagne glass before taking a gulp. You grimaced at the taste. “We spent all that money on marketing, but couldn’t afford decent champagne?”

Emily pulled a face as she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? I told Harriet it was worth buying the better stuff, but no.”

You frowned before placing the champagne on a table, intending to leave it there. You took a deep breath, your stomach doing somersaults. The spaghetti you made earlier wasn’t sitting well, and the champagne had really turned your stomach.

It was probably the bad champagne.

The head of the sport’s drink company made his way up to the stage and tapped into the microphone to gain everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone! It’s amazing to see you all tonight for the launch of our product…”

You zoned out, trying to focus on breathing. You did not feel good, and as the crowd went silent to listen to the ‘big boss’, you tried your best to listen, but you couldn’t from the ringing in your ears. You can feel the beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you turn to Emily, not really looking at her as you discreetly excuse yourself. Panic sets in as you realise you can't hold it in any longer. You rush towards the nearest restroom, desperately hoping you make it in time.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear the distant hum of the speech fading away as you step into the bathroom. You're grateful that it's empty, providing you with a moment of privacy. You lock yourself inside a cubicle and drop to your knees, gripping the cold porcelain toilet bowl. As you lean over, Emily’s voice echoes through the empty bathroom. Figures she followed you, noticing your sudden discomfort. You felt the embarrassment flow through your body, but you know that she's only there to lend a helping hand, if you needed it.

The wave of nausea intensifies, and you barely have time to pull your hair back before a rush of the earlier spaghetti emits from within you. The taste is bitter and acrid, burning your throat as it leaves your body. Then you hear a knock on the door, followed by Emily’s gentle voice, muffled by the bathroom's walls. She asks if you're alright, if there's anything she can do to help.

You manage to compose yourself enough to respond, your voice shaky and weak. "I...I think I'll be okay," you say, your words interrupted by a sudden gag. "Sorry, just...just give me a minute."

She doesn't leave, though. Instead, she waits outside your stall. Her presence makes you feel even more embarrassed at this unexpected moment of vulnerability. You wanted to tell her to go back to the party, to not worry about you, that you’ll make your way back in a moment, but words escape you when you needed them the most.

As the nausea subsides, replaced by a lingering queasiness, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You grab some toilet roll, dabbing your mouth before throwing it in the toilet. You flush it, feeling as though the moment has finally passed and it was over. Slowly, you unlock the door and step out, finding Emily waiting for you with a concerned expression.

You avert your gaze and walk past her, washing your hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with empathy. “Do you want some water?”

“I’ll get it, thanks Emily.”

You clear your throat as you shake your hands of excess water before grabbing a few paper towels. You dry your hands and throw them away, before turning to Emily. You couldn’t find the right words, so with a weak smile, you both return to the event.

Four Weeks

“Just take a pregnancy test,” Courtney said, shrugging. “I’m shocked you haven’t yet, honestly.”

Now that you suddenly gained an awful lot of free time as the launch was over, you and Courtney arranged to meet up a week after. Your newest clients were more relaxed, really only happy with the updates to their social media, and a few print outs every now and then. So this gave you the perfect opportunity to gain some advice about the awful ‘case of the flu’ you’d been complaining about all week.

You’d been talking about it since you puked at the launch (and pretty much every day since). And you were constantly tired, and hungry. And just a ball of emotion. You’d thought about the other explanation, obviously, but you can’t be pregnant. You used protection each time. You couldn’t be.

You still decided to skip on the wine with your meal.

“Don’t you think I’m overthinking it, just a bit?” you ask, almost rolling your eyes. “It’s not weird for someone to sometimes be late on their period.”

“And to throw up at their important work event,” Courtney said, raising an eyebrow at you and throwing you a pointed look. “Then every day afterwards. Did you not use protection?”

You wanted to shout at her. She’s talking to you like you’re an irresponsible teenager, and not a woman who was nearing thirty. “Of course, I did.”

Courtney stared at you with a stern look on her face. “So rule it out then, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that it’s impossible for me to be pregnant because I always use protection, so there must be something wrong that’s causing this.”

“Yeah, probably a foetus,” muttered Courtney sarcastically. “All condoms have a 2% fail rate.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. You had to admit, it was a bit weird, and it was the only logical explanation at this point. The ‘flu’ symptoms weren’t wearing off. You were only digging yourself a deeper hole if you didn’t approach it now. “What do I do?”

“Whose would it be?”

You peek over your fingertips at your friend, who was raising an eyebrow at you. You had already thought about this since the last person you slept with was - “Santiago. The ex-army guy from a few weeks ago.”

“Not this doctor guy you’ve been talking to?”

“Craig? No. We haven’t even met yet. We have a date next week.”

“Do you think that Santiago lied about using condoms?”

“No, I…” you grimace, your cheeks warming. “I watched him put them on and throw them in the trash.”

Courtney shrugged. “Well then…I guess you’ll just have to pee on a stick and find out.”

You sigh, before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom and throw up. Again.

Five Weeks

You’d put it off long enough. You were very late for your period, the symptoms hadn’t subsided, and you couldn’t avoid it anymore. You had to take a pregnancy test.

You had cancelled your date with Craig, apologising profusely. You came up with the excuse of the flu and he was very understanding but you noticed he didn’t mention rescheduling. You felt slightly disappointed, but it was fine. You had other things to worry about.

You made your way to the nearest CVS, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart before walking inside, straight to the family planning aisle. Your eyes widened at the brands. Which ones were most reliable? Why are they so expensive? Aren’t babies expensive enough? And why so many different brands? Don’t they all do the same thing?

You would ask Gabrielle, but you didn’t want to bother her with something like this.

You bite your lip as you walk up and down the aisle. ClearBlue is trustworthy, wasn’t it? And it was a well-known brand. And you were sure they had digital tests as well as regular tests. But you know that Clinical Guard is good too. And First Response. Or should you check –

"Are you okay, sweetheart?“

You jump at the sudden interruption, turning to look at the older woman who was wearing a pharmacy coat, her auburn hair pulled back in a bun as her green eyes looked at you a little concerned. You blink before shaking your head quickly and gave the woman a small smile. "Sorry. I'm...which brand would you recommend?"

The woman looked at the pregnancy tests before letting out a hum. "If you want my honest opinion, they all are the same, just have different names. But it's up to you."

Biting your inner lip in slight frustration, you sigh through your nose, looking back at the tests before grabbing a ‘triple check’ ClearBlue box, and a First Response box. You turn to the woman, who smiled at you before leading you to the counter. You pay the (more than you had planned to pay) fees for the tests. The pharmacist looked at you as she tilled in the amount. "You were stood there for a while before I came over. I thought there was something wrong."

You let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a shoulder. "Well...I mean, I could be pregnant, so..."

"We've all been there," replied the pharmacist. "Whatever the result, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Thanks," you replied, grabbing the plastic bag and leaving the store, making your way back to her apartment quickly, almost feeling the anxiousness of being found buying pregnancy tests (as if you weren’t an independent, fully grown adult).

It seemed to take longer to get back to your apartment than it did to get to the CVS. You eventually made it back, closing and relocking your apartment door as you practically ripped the tests from the plastic bag, speed walking to the bathroom, and reading the instructions on the First Response tests.

"You can't pee on a stick wrong, right?" you muttered to yourself, before shaking your head. "Well, Cassie in high school managed to do it wrong. Remove cap, pee on test, pointing down then replace cap and lay on flat surface for three minutes. I can do that. Two lines means congrats, you're pregnant!"

So that’s exactly what you did. Once placing the cap back on and leaving the test on the side of the sink, you washed her hands, watching the test with a concerned look on your face before catching your reflection in the mirror before scowling. You point to your reflection, calling your name sternly. "Come on. Staring at it isn't going to make it go any quicker." you momentarily froze before shaking your head.

Stop talking to yourself.

You took a deep breath, knowing it had been longer than the three minutes it suggested on the box. You let the breath go before closing your eyes tightly then opening them, lifting the test to eyeline.

Two pink lines stare back at you, almost mockingly.

You felt sick again. And dizzy. You were going to pass out. You need to sit down. You feel yourself grab onto the edge of the counter, slowly lowering yourself to the floor, still staring at the positive test. No matter how long you stared, the test didn't change. Those two pink lines were still as vibrant as they were a few minutes ago.

What do you do? What are you supposed to tell Santi? It was a one-night stand, you used protection! How did this happen?

You could feel yourself panicking, becoming breathless. You drop the test on the floor, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as you stumbled your way into your bedroom and to your bedside drawer, digging around for the condom box. They must be a defective batch. There was no way –

You felt your blood run cold. Expired.

You, again, felt like you were going to pass out. How did you not know? Why didn’t you check the expiration date sooner? You felt tears flood your eyes as you angrily threw the box into the trash. What we’re you going to do now? You can’t have a baby. You had a tiny, one-bedroom apartment! You had just situated yourself in your career! And you were pretty sure Santi didn’t want kids. You would be alone, with a child.

You didn't sleep well that night, if at all. Your mind was going one hundred miles a minute, going through all the aspects that you currently had going on and how you would accommodate for a baby, if you were pregnant. You would have to find a new place, big enough for two people, if not more. That was another thing. Would Santi even want to be involved? You hadn’t even spoken since the date, you might not even need to tell him.

You shake the thought away. Of course you need to tell him.

You took a second test as soon when you woke up, and it did come out positive. You waited until after you had breakfast and showered and watched a little morning TV before taking another one. You ended up throwing up your breakfast into the toilet. It was positive, again.

It was late afternoon, after hours of pacing and weighing the options when you scrolled for Santi’s number. You had taken yet another test, just to be sure (the result was no different than the first three you took), and had promptly thrown up again, into your toilet. Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he blocked your number after your date? You had no intention of speaking to each other again, what if he just ignored you? Would he think you wanted another date?

No, you couldn’t let these fears take over. He deserved to know. And if you couldn’t contact him, you could always ask Emily to pass the message along that you needed to speak to him.

You shiver. You hoped it didn’t come to that.

You press the call button before you psych yourself out more, placing the phone to your ear. The ringing twisted your stomach with nerves. This wasn’t even the hard part. You just had to ask him to talk, to meet you for coffee or something. It’ll be casual, as casual as it can be telling a one night stand you were pregnant. Oh shit, you were going to be sick –

“Hello?”

Your breathing hitched at the sound of Santiago’s voice. You take a deep breath before releasing it. There was no turning back now. “Hey…it’s me.”

“Hey,” he replies, muttering your name. “How are you? Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Er, yeah. Just…listen, we need to talk.”

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader

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