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imma-devil · 6 months

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Girls & Boys - blurb

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x fem!reader x Ellaria Sand, Matt Murdock x fem!reader x Elektra Natchios, Damon Salvatore x fem!reader x Elena Gilbert,

Warnings: NSFW (Minors dni)

Tags: Threesomes (MFF), Bisexual [used as an umbrella term], switch!reader, food play, cunnilingus, fingering, shifting position, fainting, multiple orgasms, praise, degradation, bruises, making out, cum eating, oral fixation?, love bites, choking, finger fucking, cum shower, first time, teasing, little to no proofreading.

Word Count: 1,287

A/N: I have fed my bisexual fantasies, I will sleep good tonight. My third piece for Lazy Ghouls Spooktober under prompt 'threesomes.'

You can not take my work or translate it without my permission. This piece of fiction is mine, and only the characters belong to their original creators.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Both are vocal with their praises in adoration of you.

Oberyn is far more doting in his praise, opting to whisper how good you make him feel in your ear or compliment your beauty while you ride him. When he’s between your legs, he likes to smother the compliments that flow from his lips into your clavicle… his Dornish accent growing heavier with each second he comes closer to release.

Ellaria is different. She throws out compliments with the energy of a command, intertwining demeaning language in between. “You’re so good to me my pretty little whore~” she’d usher out between aches and moans as she rode your tongue.

Oberyn and Ellaria both chose you, but let’s be honest… Ellaria is the one who really picked you. Oberyn loves all women and is willing to please the many if granted the choice. He treats you nicely, but it’s Ellaria who acts as if you belong to her. She parades you for all to see like you’re a prize.

Ellaria often likes to watch Oberyn have his way with you. But you’re not innocent, you purposely give her lustful glances or all-out keep eye contact with Ellaria; no matter if Oberyn’s hips are snapping into yours or if he’s spending endless minutes between your legs tending to your core.

When you do this, Ellaria more than likely just observes and smirks at your playful nature. But sometimes, if you push her too far, she’ll shamelessly lift her dress to toy with her heat with her fingers. She’ll make sure you can both hear her moans.

Once Oberyn has worked you over the edge more than enough times, he’ll tend to his wife. He’d bend her over your torso, making sure you feel every thrust no matter how exhausted you are.

When he cums, he makes sure to pull out so he can share his spend amongst you two. His ropes of cum coating Ellaria’s back and your tits. For good measure, he’d swipe through the white coat with his two fingers, just so that he could find it a place on your tongue.

When one of your many escapades is finished, Ellaria feeds fruit platters by hand into Oberyn's mouth. But, don’t feel left out. Oberyn will be sure to cradle the ripe grapes or strawberry slivers between his teeth so that he can share them with you. He likes the taste mixture when he kisses you.

Ellaria will get jealous. She’ll take over, kissing you so longingly that the night begins again. She’ll repeat mantras between heated breaths, “Mine” “You’re mine, little viper.”

Oberyn will watch contentedly for a little while before joining in on the fun.

Matthew Murdock and Elektra Natchios

Matt will definitely be in a mood when you three finally get it on for the first time. He gets quiet, thrumming with energy that he can barely contain. Unable to quell the devil within him, especially with all the history that rests between him and Elektra.

Elektra, who on the battlefield acts like a wild panther, is tamed to a house cat when under the attention of both you and Matt. She becomes pliable under Matt’s rough hands and reduced to whimpers when you work her sensitive bud with your tongue.

Elektra becomes increasingly more sensitive with Matt’s hand around her throat, his hips rolling to meet hers, dragging out a moan from her lips with every thrust. After all, Matt typically liked to take things slow, opting to savor it.

Matt would fight off release at the glide of your tongue on his shaft, prodding at his head in sparse intervals each time he unsheaths himself from Elektra’s cunt.

A frequent position revisited by the group has you on your back in missionary for Matt; Elekra mounting you with her back arched and ass presented. Matt plows into you from this position, his hands marking deep bruises into your hips. All while your hand reaches around Elektra’s thigh, plunging two fingers into her eager pussy. Elektra would be fucked dizzy from your fingers, trying to ground herself by latching her lips onto yours.

Once you’d cum more than one time from Matt’s cock, he would switch to Elektra, fucking up into her with a speed that left her breathless. She wouldn’t be able to think, especially with you rubbing tight circles onto her clit.

After Elektra cums, likely for a fourth or fifth time, she quite literally passes out. Every time this happens, you and Matt often dote on her. The two of you cleaning up, especially when looking after her. Matt would have a content smile resting peacefully upon his lips.

Any time the three of you have sex, it likely ends in you and Matt having idle conversation before you all sleep the night off. When you wake, Elektra always makes a show of wearing Matt’s shirt. The article of clothing often looks like a dress on her tiny frame.

Elektra would return to her sharp flirtations and witty remarks as if nothing happened. But you and Matt both know that you could reel her in with a few simple moves.

Damon and Elena

Elena is needy. The only way this works is if you accommodate that. So, be ready to have to direct your energy towards her in any relationship, including physical. But, lucky for you, Elena actually was okay with a threesome with her boyfriend’s best friend. Funnily enough, it was her idea. It would also be her first time with a partner of the same sex, as well as her first time having a threesome.

When things started off, Damon sat in audience with a glass of bourbon; the buttons of his black shirt undone as he slumped into the couch. He mirrors a separate couch, there seated are you and Elena.

She kneels in front of you, her hands pressing into her thighs in a clear display of anxiousness. Even the rock music that plays faintly in the background doesn’t ease her nerves.

You ask for her permission with every move; allowing you to comb your fingers through the silkiness of her straight hair, lifting her chin in a delicate hold, and placing cautious kisses on her plush lips. Eventually, her hands migrate to drape over your shoulders, signaling a slight release of her hesitancy.

It's not long before Damon abandons his empty glass to sit behind her, gently kneading his fingers into her dainty shoulder blades. His mouth found its spot against the pulse point of her neck, leaving pink blemishes as he traveled up the length of her fair skin to linger below her jaw.

Elena lifts her head to offer him room, growing heavy on her shoulders. You decide to reflect his actions, following what Damon knows to already be successful in wooing the Gilbert girl. Elena shivers at the sensation, not used to the second person. A faint whimper makes its way past her lips, to which you and Damon both smile.

As the night progresses, you end up behind Elena’s back, the two of you lying on Damon’s bed in the boarding house. You support her weight as she leans into you. Damon stands at the bedpost, between her legs. He’s purposeful with his languid thrusts, which you accent with your fingers on Elena’s clit. Your other hand traces the curves of her body, slowly traversing the smoothness of her skin.

Elena likes being pampered, and it shows in the arousal coating her legs.

“Look at how wet you are,” Damon boasts with a mischievous glint.

Elena is silent besides the moans that fill the room like a song, hiding her face behind her hands in embarrassment.

#x reader #imagine #fanfiction #blurb #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #ellaria sand #oberyn x reader x ellaria #matt murdock #elektra natchios #matt x reader x elektra #damon salvatore #elena gilbert #damon x elena #damon x reader x elena #x fem!reader

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imma-devil · 7 months

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smile for the camera | s.h

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI

Tags: sub!Steve Harrington, switch!Steve Harrington, Steve's first time subbing, reader's kinda mean and its hawt, sextape (solo masturbation), masturbation (m!receiving), fist fucking, leg riding, slight voyeurism kink!, both praise and slight degradation kink, use of nicknames (e.g., pretty boy), banter, some dirty talk, barely proofread.

Word Count: 1,643

Summary: Steve "The Hair" Harrington is put to the test. Will he hold onto the mantle of "King Steve" when his girlfriend has him at her mercy from behind a camera?

A/N: Prompt two of Lazy Ghouls Kinktober, the prompt I chose was camera. It's a bit on the shorter side than what I usually post, but it's because I wanted to commit to posting but couldn't handle a longer post.

You can not take my work or translate it without my permission. This piece of fiction is mine, and only the character belongs to its original creators.

“Do I really have to do this?” Steve asks, a poorly plastered facade of annoyance to his tone.

Steve and you recently had a talk about how your sex life had largely been about what Steve was into, while your desires were slowly being forgotten. It wasn’t intentional… and its not like you disliked your sex. No, you loved it. But, you wanted Steve to go along with something you’ve requested. Which, brings you to the infamous Steve Harrington, seated on his knees before you. All while you stand over him, wielding a very large video camera.

“Quit complaining Steve, I said you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to.” you shoot back with little hesitance. “The only reason you’re here right now is ‘cause you’re into it— don’t deny it.”

“I like to think I have enough dignity to not stoop to this level just to cum,” He retorts, readjusting the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Really?--” you ask, laced with sarcasm. “I like you at this level.”

“I’m sure you do~” he grins, making a show of advancing towards you, his hands reaching for your hips.

With a stiff palm, you stop him where he is. “Nope!” You impersonate the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt for good measure, which he laughs at. “No touching— this is all you baby.”

He stares up into the lens, all doe-eyed and stunned.

“Now, put on a good show for the camera~” you mockingly grin.

“Well… what am I supposed to do?” he looks off to the side in question, despite the empty room.

You cock your head to the side to accent your reply, finding humor in his newfound innocence. “I assume you remember how to touch yourself? right? Don’t play coy.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Steve chides, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in an effort to fend off a smile.

“Would you love me even more if I told you that I’d record a little tape for you in return?” you ask, a smile adorning your lips that could only mean you were up to no good. “I’d give it to you on a random day… as a surprise… but only if you make this one yourself.”

He clearly resembled someone who was interested, but he groaned in defiance once he heard the devious ultimatum. He scoots to a slightly more comfortable position on his knees, widening his stance atop the carpet so that he can rest his weight more on his thighs. You can almost imagine him straddling atop your lap instead, with enough room to slot yourself between his legs.

“You can still change your mind,” you provide. “I’d never force you into something you don’t want.”

“It’s too late for that—” He quirks his eyebrow and looks at you with a teasing question. “You’ve already got me where you want me, might as well get on with it.”

“Ahh, I see… for dignity’s sake?” you goad.

“Yup, for dignity’s sake,” he replies, before trailing his hand to rest right where his pelvis meets his hip. You know he’s just doing it for show, but truthfully, Steve was a bit sensitive there. You could remember from past experience that doting kisses or an indulgent touch in just that spot would leave his hips stuttering in their pace.

“Hmm, whenever you’re ready” you voice, your eyes now settling on him from the lens of the camera; watching your ‘pretty boy’ of a boyfriend from a whole new perspective of video grain and amorous lighting.

Steve notices the switch in dynamic, and he too fixates his gaze on the intimidating lens. There’s something he finds different about his girlfriend… this feels voyeuristic as if he considers an audience beyond just the woman he loves. He expected to feel shame while under the intense observation of a camera, a video that would undoubtedly record every detail of his body under pleasure, making it everlasting for them to see. Instead, it feels thrilling. He speculates that the mere idea of him being watched under your greedy eyes is what’s coaxing him further. It’s the motivation for why his hands scan his body without fear, and why he performs for the camera with his eyes cooked onto the lens.

Steve sneaks one arm below his t-shirt, his hand traversing the expanse of his stomach. He makes sure to gently rake his nails over his skin, but it does nothing to mimic your touch. Steve hooks his other hand over his groin, adding the slightest pressure while he rocks himself achingly slow over his touch.

A hum then coasts amongst your exhales and he smirks in achievement. Steve awards himself by furthering his weight on his indulgent hand, palming himself for added friction. The thick cloth of his sweatpants barely dullens the pressure, and he feels himself grow harder at the attention.

“Fuck, that’s good” he relents, his voice crackling with the sheer quietness in which he spoke.

“Louder, for the camera—” you advise. “I wanna hear how it feels Steve, tell me how it feels…”

“S’not as good as when you touch me~” he admits. “But, it's warm. I want more though…”

“Touch yourself directly,” you offer like it's obvious. “Show the camera how pretty you are.”

Steve smiles at the compliment, lifting his shirt to hold the fabric between his teeth. You admire the freckles that adorn his fair skin, scattered like small constellations. Brown hair marks a trail up the valley of his lean stomach to collect in a faint patch of hair on his chest. The skin that resides there is pink with growing warmth. To keep his idle hand busy he lightly teases at his nipple with the edge of his index finger, cupping the rest of his pec in his hand.

You watch as Steve releases his cock from the confines of his sweats, his pink head peeking from his waistband. You hum approvingly as to satiate his need for appraisal and he nudges his pants to rest lower on his waist. You can’t help but fixate on the beauty mark that resides on his v, the one which marks that sensitive spot you fantasized about earlier.

Steve places his palm to his drooling head, lulling his head back once on his neck as soon as his touch met its surface. The low hum of a moan gruels through his lips, muffled by the shirt clenched between his teeth. Just as a tantalizing motion sets around his eager cock, Steve’s moans begin to coast along the air in his quiet bedroom. Steve doesn’t even notice as his hips take on a mind of their own, his thrusts mindlessly following his hand in tow.

“Just like that~” you guide him in his pace. “Keep fuckin’ yourself into your fist,”

His breath hitches at your words; his speed ticking up a notch to eagerly appease you. He becomes aware of the camera once more and in doing so, realizes his desire to perform.

“Go ahead, Steve~” you coax, “Make yourself feel good— make yourself cum~”

He rushingly nods in reply; his brows tying up into a knot as he begins to unabashedly snap his hips into his hand. He really wants to— Steve wants to cum… but, he just can’t. He needs you! It just isn’t enough, his hand isn’t enough. He’s virtually chasing his end now, but you can see the seed of frustration starting to grow behind his irises.

You reposition the camera atop your shoulder; pushing one leg further to stand just close enough, between his knees. Steve stares up at you—not the camera—you, the essence of something desperate within his gaze.

“Go ahead,” you relent out of both greed and guilt. “Use me~ I know you need to”

Steve audibly groans, your words going straight to his dick. Maybe he would’ve considered feeling embarrassed, but not now, when his mind is flooded with thoughts of being able to cum. He could curse himself later when the high goes down. But, for now, he pulls himself in close to you.

“Work yourself over the edge,” you egged on.

His unoccupied hand moves to wrap around your leg in an embrace mimicking that of greek statues, kneeling in adoration. His other hand continues to pump his dick, his hips stuttering each time his fist works over his head. Now that the distance between you is closed, he pushes his need into your leg. With each motioned thrust, he drags himself against the plush of your smooth skin. He haggers a moan with each pull, reeling at the sensation. The added pressure of your leg is enough to supply Steve his much-needed release.

Out of instinct, your fingers magnetize to his hair; dotingly combing through his waves to clear them of his face. “My pretty boy,” you coo with a lust-filled voice.

“I knew you were a slut,”

A seething curse forces its way between his clenched teeth as he releases his hot spend in bursts against your skin. His arousal seen soaking through the cotton of his sweats. Steve’s voice drags on throughout his orgasm, as if he uses all of his breath from within his lungs. The shirt falls from between his teeth, wonton pants drifting from his lips in exertion. The aftershocks of his orgasm fizzle to a close as he drops his cheek to your thigh.

It takes a moment before Steve feels he can catch his breath and he turns to look up at your camera; his chin resting upon your knee like a loyal pup.

With a fucked out voice he voices with bliss, “...when you film mine— I want you to fuck yourself over my thigh.”

After a laugh that could surely be heard through the camera, you assure him “that can be arranged.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #x reader #fanfiction #sub character #dom reader #bd/sm switch

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imma-devil · 7 months

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Show me | c.b

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto (The Bear) x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, [one action was done with dubious consent; make sure you get consent when having intimacy with others].

Tags: slight sub!carmy, switch!carmy, virgin!carmy, experienced!reader (there's a bit of a power dynamic thing going on so if you're not comfortable with that then please don't force yourself), some size kink, one use of nickname (baby), insecure!carmy + (emotional hurt/comfort??), carmy has a praise kink?, carmy needs a hug, no use of y/n, brief edging, handjob (m!receiving & f!receiving?), p in v sex, no protection (wrap it!), creampie, cockwarming? I guess, not entirely proofread.

Word Count: 4,180

Summary: Carmy and you are in a serious relationship. Carmy has gotten to the point where he knows what he wants, and that is to lose his virginity to the one he trusts. Will you show him what he has been missing out on for so long? Will you treat him the way he deserves?— Absolutely.

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry I have been MIA. This is my attempt to get back into writing. It is also my first submission for 2023's Lazy Ghouls Kinktober. The prompt I used for the week was virginity.

You can not take my work or translate it without my permission. This piece of fiction is mine, and only the character belongs to its original creators.

Honestly, you should’ve felt more considerate about the situation before you. Even though you could physically feel the anxiety that was thrumming through his blood and intoxicating the air, you could only focus on the honey glow coating his curls. The sun shone through the window of your Chicago apartment, illuminating half of his frame in its warm light. His eye, closest to the sun’s reach, held a crystalline structure of the purest blue. Even as his gaze flitted away from you, searching for some ease to his uncertainty, you could only focus on his beauty. It was only when his weathered hand moussed through his curls that you were brought back to Earth.

“Are we sure about this?” He asks, meeting your eye from beneath his lashes. “I mean… you kind of got the shit end of this deal here.”

“Says who? I’m happy with this outcome,” You smiled, your fingers playing with a crease in his pant leg.

“I just— I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into,” he said, sealing his lips in that nervous habit of his.

“You’ve explained it to me… I know what I’m getting, and it doesn’t make me want you any less.” You eased your hand onto his thigh, almost as if to transfer your feelings through touch. “So, stop trying to scare me away.”

“Trust me… that’s the last thing I want to do.” He exclaimed with a weak chuckle.

“I do… I do trust you,” you used him to scoot yourself closer to him on the sofa. “---and I want you to trust me too.”

“I want to do this. I want to do this with you.” He quickly averted his stare, clasping his hands around one another to rub at his knuckles. “...it’s just that, I’m not sure how— How do I do this?”

You cover his hands with your own, tracing his tattoos with your thumbs in slow circles.

“I mean—” He suddenly cut in, “I’ve watched it—y’know—so I’m not oblivious. I just, I— God! Why is this so difficult!?” He jumped to his feet, taking his hands to wipe the nerves from his face, his fist rising to rest over his lips; fearful that if he said any more, he would expose just how afraid he truly was. He was resisting the urge to run for the hills, the urge to accept that he just may never make it passed this step.

You rest your hand on his lower back, slowly approaching him from behind. With your hands looped around his chest and your ear turned to rest against his back, you breathe your words of advice: “...you take it one step at a time, one foot behind the other, and I’ll be here the whole way.”

“If you ever want to stop, or slow down, you can tell me.” You added. “I care about you, you know that?”

“...yea,” he hummed.

“I don’t expect you to be some type of sex god on your first go…” you huffed a laugh, “But, I do expect to have a good time… and if you let me take the lead, I’d like to make it so that you have a good time too.”

Carmy felt torn, maybe it was unrealistic to think that he’d be great right off the bat, that he could please you without guidance. All that he could go off of was the porn he watched as a teenager and the dreams of you that have been plaguing his sleepless nights. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed that he couldn’t perform to how he wanted… and at how a part of him enjoyed the way you were speaking to him. He shouldn’t like the thought of being taken care of, it was the guy who was supposed to take the lead, right?

You could feel the warmth of his hand fall upon yours, the rough pads of his fingers trailing faintly atop your skin. A taut breath shuddered within his chest before his mouth opened to voice his want, “...show me.”

Taking hold of his hand, you led him towards your bed away from the couch, keeping in his view all the while. You placed a light peck on his hand and watched as a smile tugged at his lips. Once the backs of your legs met the mattress, you guided his rough hand to your chest, bringing him just that little bit closer. Your lips met in a gentle kiss, coaxing a pleased hum from his throat.

“Take this off f’me,“ you pointed to your shirt, the rest of your fingers still slotted with his.

His ministrations were eager as he tugged at the fabric with his lips still against yours. You subtly released his grip, placing the both of your hands on his hips to give him more mobility to free you of your clothing.

“Slow,” you whispered upon breaking your kiss, grinning when his body nearly chased yours. “...like this.”

You recaptured his lips before sneaking your fingertips below the hem of his white-t, the rest of your hands soon followed as you traveled to the dimples in his back. Relishing in the goosebumps that arose on his skin, you paused to appreciate the moment. By raking your nails up the back of his sides, his body shudders. His shirt raises the further your reach meets the underside of his arms and you hook your fingers beneath the fabric to tug it up and over his head. Carmy then makes a sound of disapproval when you ultimately have to end the kiss to remove his shirt.

To your surprise, he doesn’t shy away once his chest is bare for you to see. Instead, he mimics your action, opting to personalize it to his own liking. He begins palm first, resting it affront your belly, just barely above your core. The sheer size of his hand in comparison to you is enough to make you flutter. His other hand stabilizes your back, resting it on the crest of your ass, pulling you into him— close. Carmy rests his forehead against yours, his glossy, blown-out eyes intruding deeply into yours.

“How’s this?” he asks, his tone bordering a plea, as his hand travels higher. His hips cant towards you while his composure inevitably dwindles, having underestimated just how much he wanted to do this before.

You can feel the callouses beneath his fingertips trail over the ridges of your ribs, stalling as they meet the underwire of your bra. You can hear Carmy’s exhales begin to shake, watching as his lashes grow even heavier. He helps your shirt the last bit of the way with his other hand and his lips part when he finally sees the skin beneath. His eyes drift to a close as he practically breathes you in, his hand slotting into your side where Carmy’s thumb mindlessly makes a rhythm of its own in the grooves of your skin.

You ridge your fingers over the waistband of his jeans, anchoring him as you continue your kiss. Almost as if it were a handle, simply made for your possession. “My bra,” you direct, barely registering the need to speak, all too consumed by the taste of mint gum and something warm– something undefinable.

Now this— Carmy actually felt like he could manage. He had done it once before in high school, ushered to a party he otherwise didn’t want to attend. The girl, he didn’t even know her name, but she had already taken her shirt off for him. All that was left was the bra, he managed to fumble for it in the dark before someone barged in and marked that he remain a virgin well into adulthood. Carmy was thankful for that now; you were well worth the wait. Whatever he could’ve experienced pales in comparison to sharing this bed with you, even if it has only just begun.

Carmy didn’t register that he would have to focus on the ministrations of his fingers instead of melting at your lips long enough to undo the clasp. You had this hold over him that was all-consuming like some thick haze clouding his vision; he wanted to give into it. But, fighting his innermost wishes, he tugged at the clasp, and couldn’t help but grin against your lips at his successful first attempt. Like a child, he nearly wanted to bolster his achievement with a celebratory fist, but knew well enough to avoid looking like an idiot.

But, he might’ve failed at doing just that because the second he caught sight of your chest, he could feel all sense escape him. His head dropped to your shoulder, his thick curls tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. You can feel the warm puffs of his exhale against your skin, his breath growing more haggard by the second. His hands traveled up the expanse of your sides, cupping your breasts in each of his palms. His hold— incredibly gentle, muscles taut with obvious restraint. He sublimates with a fierce kiss to your nape, a groan escaping his lips despite muffling himself into your shoulder.

“What do you want, Carmy?” you meagered out on short breath, “Tell me,”

His arm snakes around your torso, taking a bruising hold as he anchors you close to him. His other hand gropes the mound of your breast, the vein beneath his skin growing prominent as he wills himself to hold onto what remains of his restraint.

He makes an incoherent sound, filled with need and almost reminiscent of a word, but he nuzzles your neck as if he conveyed what he wished. He pushes his hips into yours, pulling away to look at where you met as if he were putting himself on display. “It hurts,” he whines with a wounded look… one that you would damn near call him devious for.

You undo the button of his jeans and watch as the fabric tries to force its way open at the pressure beneath. The zipper undoes itself halfway and you guide it the rest to reveal the bulge beneath his cotton briefs. He sighs with a slack jaw at the relief, watching your hands intently in anticipation. You palm him through his briefs for a moment, teasing at the weight of him in your hand, gauging his expression as his brows lift and a throaty exhale falls from his lips.

“You still okay with this?” you gloat while pulling away your hand, “We can still stop.”

His grip immediately snaps to your wrist as his eyes bore into yours, “Not funny.”

You gingerly hum a reply, “Kinda funny.”

You begin pulling your pants below your ass before stepping out of them one leg after the other and Carmy takes the cue to do the same. You took a seat on the mattress, playing audience as he took off the tight fabric. He kept taking glimpses of the small cloth that was scrunched at the top of your thighs. He couldn’t help but be caught up on the fact that you were sitting before him in your underwear, your legs crossed, your ass peeking from the underside of your thigh. He would give anything to see it. The same ass he would sometimes zone out on in the kitchen from the view of his office. The same ass that was hugged perfectly from your jeans. He was broken out of his thoughts from the sound of your laughter, and he couldn’t help the heat that crept to his face at the realization that he was caught.

Now that his jeans were gone, you could see his body for what it was. All that you could say is that you were pleased; seeing his built body and blushing face in front of you with the dick you’d been craving to see, barely hidden behind his briefs. He was almost hesitant walking over to you, like the moment was growing ever more real as it grew closer. To your surprise, when he sat next to you, he already took things into his own hands. He makes an advance at the back of your neck, swiping away any hair that resides there to clear him a space to leave small blemishes with his lips.

He was almost convincing you not to turn around, as if a distraction could postpone the rejection that he was adamant would soon occur. So, like in his pursuit of cooking, he set forth to please. He could remember the insecurity he felt when he first entered the field, the scrutiny that burned into his skin nearly as permanent as his ink tattoos, and the acidity at the back of his throat that made him feel like he was one failure away from collapsing from within. He would then drill through the motions of training and practice to overcome, like a sculptor who chiseled away at their stone. It's that same work ethic that now has him chasing your pleasure as if it were his own. It is why all sound washes away like water within his ears as he kneads delicately into your skin with all-seeking hands. As well as the reason why his kisses down the expanse of your back only relent because wanting pants were left in their wake. His eyes are sealed shut— vision abandoned so as to not see your regret nor disappointment.

He knows yet that you’re aware of this shield, and only pains himself with a tightening chest as you pull from his embrace. The ache doesn’t go away, even once he realizes that you’ve sat yourself in his lap, facing his way. Part of him wants to flee, but he can’t even bring himself to explain why. He knows what he wants and why he’s here in this moment, but can’t ascribe the reason as to why he wants to break away despite his desire on the crest of being fulfilled— It nearly baffles him. No, It practically angers him.

“Carm,” you begin in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re mine— and the only way you’ll stop being mine is if you don’t want me to be yours anymore.”

He focuses on the sensation as your arm hooks over his neck for your hand to come up and play with his hair. The soft drag of your nails against his scalp has his eyes open beneath lidded hoods.

“You’re in your head right now, and I don’t want you to be… because what you’re thinking isn’t true.” He watches the words fall from your lips and hangs on every word. “Now, I say it again— if you feel like you’re not ready, I won’t rush you. But, if you don’t want to do this because you’re afraid I don’t want you?... then you’re kidding yourself.”

He’s all out of words to say, so instead, he lifts your hand in his and guides it to touch him where he needs you most. You’re a little shocked from the change in pace with your hand now palming his eager erection. He immediately exerts a sigh, and you mention nothing of the twitch of him from beneath your touch.

“Don’t lie to me,” he begs with poorly masked skepticism. “I wouldn’t forgive you.”

“---that’s more than I’d forgive myself,” you shake away his concern, your adamancy shining through your expression like a beacon over a fjord.

This time when you kissed, he tasted less like mint gum and more like molten heat. This kiss was beholden of a warmth attributed to the time spent between you, something a product of late nights cleaning the kitchen to garbled jazz and rock music from a cheap speaker. It was the product of brisk air biting at your nose during alleyway conversations, the smell of crisp mornings, and cigarette smoke wafting on the wind. The result of casual dates, never acknowledged for what they were; instead, listed as evening talks spent in each other's apartments, sharing naps, and dreams of the future.

You hold onto that feeling, the same as he does. You guide his hand to your heat, smiling as you notice his movements stutter. Without relenting, you continue to rub him above his briefs, applying gentle friction to keep him present.

“You feel that?” you directed his hand to set aside your underwear and up to your aching bud, “that’s my clit— do you know what to do with it?”

He stations his thumb on the bundle of nerves, rolling in languid circles. His eyes, linger upon your pussy that he’s been eager to see all afternoon, but soon look up to gauge your reaction and you can almost hear his unvoiced question of ‘did I do good?’

“Yes,” you grin. “Right there,”

He nearly choked when you unearthed him from his briefs with no warning, unable to push off the change in focus seeing as he was no longer in the lead. He’s probably not much longer than 6 inches, but he’s thick and sits heavy in your hand. He watches in awe as you lick a stripe up your hand before applying light pumps to his dick, afraid to push him over the edge too soon.

“What you’re doing to me right now, I’ll show you how it feels.” you breathe a chuckle, “...it shouldn’t feel too different.”

He briefly nods before you place your thumb against his slit, your palm working away slowly against his head while your thumb mimicked the motions of his. “Oh, fuck.” he whispers as if it almost was a question. The slight squelch from your lightly clenched fist was like the spoon that stirred the swirling contents of his mind. It was cute to witness his dilemma of where he should look, either at your glistening pussy that wept at his thumb on your clit or his dick that was bare and aching under your attention. His pants grew quicker with less between and you could tell he was nearing closer. You bridged that happy medium, fastening your pace and crooning as his pants grew into meager moans. It was only once his voice grew silent and his abdomen strung tight that you removed your hand entirely. He whined a sound of displeasure, to which you gave a remorseful smile and placed a peck on his forehead.

“Sorry baby,” you gave him an apologetic kiss for good measure. “You have to wait, we don’t want this to be over just yet.”

You watch contently as his breath shudders in his chest, coming back down to Earth. He doesn’t have much time to register you climbing atop of him, only truly realizing once he noticed you were lining yourself up.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” you asked, taking a moment to really confirm if he was ready or not. “---no hard feelings if you aren’t.”

“No–” his voice croaked in his throat, “No, I want this.”

You hummed in recognition of his response before lowering yourself down on him inch by inch. A pleased smile grew on your lips at the loosening of his, all while his brows formed a tight knot and he locked in on the site of where you both met.

“Ah, fuck~” he hissed, clenching his jaw so as to not say more.

Once he bottomed out, his head fell slack on his neck. His face– turned to the heavens, but his eyes closed in bliss.

“Mmm, you did good.” you praised. Proud that he lasted so far, you graced his exposed neck with a gentle caress of your warm hand. Your intention was to be rewarding, but truthfully, he found it laced with temptation.

With an ephemeral sigh pushed from his lungs to the sky above, you noted the jolt of him from within you. He releases a chuckle, thick with haze. “God~ you feel good…”

“What does?--” you fight back a smile, “How does my pussy feel, Carm?”

He groans, taking a brief pause before giving you your answer. “Warm~” his breath staggers, “...wet,”

“What about now?” you ask, lifting yourself on his cock. Your hips start to rock in a languid rhythm, rolling down on his in tortuous circles. He sets again his bruising hold on your waist, as if holding you, holding anything, could keep him in this moment.

You watch the muscles grow taut in his neck and a subtle pink blooms in the skin above his carotid. His abdomen matches; his muscles going rigid. You could tell he was already fighting his release, and it wasn’t unexpected.

“Carmy,” you grab hold of the side of his face, your thumb resting right on the apple of his cheek. “Just let go— you’re allowed to feel good.”

Calling it a gasp would be an exaggeration, but it was like Carmy resurfaced for air. Once he finally allowed himself to breathe, there was nothing to be done to quell his now free-flowing moans. Carmy wasn’t loud, it wasn’t quite like the volume he was capable of when coursing out demands in a busy kitchen. Of course, he wasn’t quiet either. His voice of pleasure resembled a deep sigh— followed by the slightest upturn.

Witnessing his pleasure added that extra sensation to have you harmonizing your breaths. Your pleasure grew balanced— as if every motion that progressed his pleasure pulled you along behind him on a tether. It wasn’t long before you felt Carmy’s confidence begin to build— his pace along with it. His hips carved their own rhythm, setting a motion faster than the one you set with his sensitivity in mind. There was a clumsy, yet endearing quality to his thrusts that had you feeling dizzy.

“That’s it, Carmy~” you praised, pulling him in chest to chest so as to drive him deeper. “Fuck~ so good."

With your voice so close to his ear, he could practically feel the vibrations. With each comment of support that you made, he could sense his dwindling resolve. The sweat building on your bodies was proof of your efforts to reach your end. But, God- Oh God– he just needed you to cum. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he finished before he got you off. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the desperation behind it, but as he captured your lips in a kiss, he snuck his hand between you to stimulate your clit. His hips were still snapping up into yours, all while he could feel you grinding down on him. It was like some sinful equation of lust and desire; his mind couldn’t bear to push through it any longer. It didn’t help that he noticed that your smothered moans transitioned into filthy whines stifled on his tongue. He could barely lift his head, solely focused on the place where you met in timed thrusts. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he broke away from the kiss, not with the fact that he could now shamelessly listen to your unfiltered moans bless the air, even if his breath was escaping him in leisured pants.

Like a wire under a blade, your orgasm snapped into place. If your choked sound of pleasure wasn’t enough indication, he was immediately aware by the tightness that was constricting him. The sudden feeling brought him to the precipice he had been stifling with his every ounce of will. His arms had wrapped you in an embrace upon the realization of what was to come, his nose buried so deep into your neck that all he could perceive was your scent. You waited for his orgasm to come to its end, ever aware of the warmth that was filling you. You noticed his entire body go slack, his frame melting into yours like a lost puzzle piece. His hair— deliciously tickling your neck.

You gathered your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck as you had before, brushing out his untempered curls. He made a sound of contentment, the haziness of it rumbling in your chest. His hands, which now hung loosely near the small of your back, drew featherlight drawings on your skin. With the slightest turn of your head, you placed a soft, yet ardent, kiss to his temple— resting there, so as to imprint your feelings into his very flesh and bone.

Carmy turns with a thoughtful look in his eyes, pausing as if to commit every detail of your face to his memory before reciprocating with a kiss that veiled a million words.

You breathe him in, smiling into the action and sensing it when he does the same. “So– how did we do?” you ask, breathless with your eyes still closed from the moment you shared. You open your eyes when he takes you into his hold, both of his hands cupping your face on each side of your jaw. The ‘SOU’ on his knuckles— visible to the slow-turning world around you. “I don’t ever want to lose you,” he whispers with his eyes still fixated on your lips.

You brightly smile, “---and you never will.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy deserves a hug #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmy the bear #virgin!carmy berzatto #kinktober #lazy ghouls kinktober

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