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endlessthxxghts · 7 months

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You Better Jump... (part 2 of 2)

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈9k

Summary: Your neighbor fixed your lock for you. How can you ever repay him? [read part 1 here]

Warnings: Canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). Partial physical description of reader (having a thick/curvy body, wears a dress/feminine). Reader is a polyglot but no explicit mentions of race/ethnicity. Feminine pet names (sweet girl, darlin’, etc.). Flirty/awkward interactions and heightened sexual tension. Reader’s unhinged bestie <3. Implied age gap, but no explicit mention as to how big. LATINO JOEL MILLER (😫). An oddly weird amount of sweetness for 2 people who just met LOL. SMUT 18+ MDNI: Joel gets turned on at reader being a polyglot LMAO. Overall dirty talk/vulgar language. Dom/sub undertones (not heavy or established but definitely present). Vaginal fingering, p in v unprotected (I’m not sorry), semi-public sexual activity, thigh riding, bit of exhibitionism kink, oral sex (f receiving), squirting (blink and you’ll miss it), spit kink, choking, hickeys/marking… please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

A/N: HERE'S PART 2 (THE FINAL PART)! ENJOY, MY LOVES!!💚

MASTERLIST

You and Joel make out like that, with your front door wide open, until you hear a loud meow from what you immediately know to be the neighborhood cat who likes to visit you once in a while. You two break away from each other, breathless, startled from the feline just sitting at the foot of your door.

You look back up to Joel with a cheesy grin on your face, and he mirrors your expression, bringing one of his hands up to run along your red and swollen bottom lip. “Sorry,” he chuckles breathily, “got a little carried away.”

You slowly lean forward into his touch and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling it around your tongue. “Don’t apologize,” you say. You pull your mouth off his thumb and leave a little kiss to the pad of it, “I liked it.”

He groans, his eyes completely black and the grip on your waist tightens, “Darlin’,” he warns, “I need to take you out properly first.”

You slowly back away an inch with a smile full of trouble and put your hands up in a surrendering motion.

His jaw clenches, “You’re trouble, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Maybe.” You fall to your knees in front of him, slowly, and pick up the tools he dropped before your little makeout session. You stand on your knees, head in line with his hips, and look up at him. You reach around and tuck his tools in the back pocket of his jeans, grabbing onto his belt loops to pull yourself back on your feet, “Thank you for fixing my door for me, Joel.”

Before you can break away from the close proximity, his arm snakes around your waist yet again and pulls you in, his other free hand going straight for the underside of your jaw. “Pick you up at seven tonight, hm? Wear somethin’ pretty,” he says, leaning in for a deep kiss that sucks all the air out of you, “Somethin’ that gives me easy access, yeah?”

And with that, he walks out (the cat in tow), shutting the door in the process.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s 5 o'clock by the time Joel left you completely speechless at his last words, and it’s 6 by the time you call your best friend to get your ass over here right now and update her on everything that happened, including her stupid ass comment that made it right into Joel’s earshot. Of course, she laughs hysterically at that, slapping the shit out of your arm with every deep breath she takes at an attempt to calm herself.

“Alright, bitch,” she says, wiping the edges of her eyes from any residue tears, “Let’s get ya dressed, so you can jump-”

“That’s enough,” you say, slapping your hand over her mouth.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Holy fuck.

All your life, you were never really confident in yourself. You were secure enough in your identity that you knew you weren’t that bad to the average eye, but you also very much knew that you weren’t jaw-droppingly sexy. That is, until Joel made you feel like the hottest person on the planet with how he couldn’t control himself with you. Mix in your best friend’s way of hyping you up, and fuck did you feel unstoppable.

You’re not much of a dress person, but you did have a silk, dark green spaghetti strap dress that you bought on a whim a year back. You were slightly skinnier then, but the way it hugs you now accentuates all the right curves and you’ve never felt so fucking beautiful. The dress is also very flowy, having a long slit on both sides, stopping at your hip. Standing, sitting down, no matter what angle, anyone is bound to see a slip of your underwear. Which is totally the reason why you make the executive decision to not wear any, and not because of Joel’s words ringing in your ear since it left his mouth.

You enter your living room once again, giving your best friend a bit of a show before you kick her ass out, and just as your laughs settle down, you hear a knock at your door.

No fuckin’ way it’s been an hour already, you think to yourself. Your eyes go wide as you look at your best friend, her expression mirroring yours. You frantically look at the clock on your television stand, and, it has been an hour already, fuck.

You tell your best friend to hide in your room for now because there is absolutely no way she’s meeting Joel yet. She frowns, but ultimately she listens and runs to your room while you run to grab the door.

You’re already out of breath from the show you were giving your best friend, and the nerves that were building with Joel on the other side of the door you were about to open is not helping one bit.

You planned on just side-stepping him and making it straight for his car, so he doesn’t come inside, but as soon as the door opens, your breath hitches. Joel is so fucking sexy, Jesus fucking Christ, you want to swallow him whole right fucking now. As your eyes give him a full sweep, you make it down to his sleek black shoes, and in your peripheral vision, you see that your feet are still bare. Shit, there goes your plan.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty sight,” he says, also looking you up and down, matching your energy, wanting to devour you just as bad. You smirk up at him and muster up a bashful thank you, but you’re still in a trance from how good he looks. Finally, you feel the outside air tickle your feet, so you start stepping backwards into your apartment, beginning to kneel down to reach the heels you set aside earlier.

He notices where you’re headed and stops you by gently grabbing you by the hip, “Here, may I?” And before you can even think to decline (which you never would), he’s already on his knees for you, for the second time today, and you can’t help the pooling arousal in your core. Your panty-less core, to be exact, which is now only inches away from him.

He grabs your foot and situates it on his knee while he works to unclasp the strap. When he does, his rough hands are grabbing your ankle so contrastingly soft and situating your foot into the heel. He makes sure the strap wraps perfectly around your ankle, and seeing how big his hands are, you would think he would struggle with such a tiny buckle. But no, he clasps it faster than even you would, and he finishes off by leaving a sweet kiss just above where the strap lays on you. He hears your breath hitch at that, so, like the menace he is, he places three more soft kisses, making the journey higher up your leg. And before you can beg him to keep going, he’s already switching your feet around, and repeating the exact same process to your other foot. Including the three kisses up your leg. He looks up at you, a smug smile and a playful sparkle in his eye, “Ready, pretty girl?”

“Y-yeah, I-I’m ready,” you stutter out, eyes already glossed over. He stands at full height now, his hand falling to your lower back as he guides you to the front door. He pauses, though, and you look up at him slightly confused. “I reckon she won’t be here when we get back, but, uh, aren’t ya gonna introduce me to your little friend?”

Your eyes go wide, “How-?” You begin to question, but his fingers are already at your chin, guiding you to look at the black Jeep, backed into a parking spot next to your car, with a bumper sticker of a half set of butterfly wings. It perfectly matches up to the sticker on your car, making a full butterfly. “Oh,” you say defeated but also impressed he picked up on such a little detail. It makes your heart warm a little.

He lets you go from his grasp, and you turn your body in the general direction of your room and yell, “Bitch, get out he-”

It’s as if she had her ear to the door the entire time, waiting for the moment she could dart out because she doesn’t even give you a moment to finish your statement. She’s already in front of you both within seconds.

You give her the eyes that she immediately translates as please play it cool, but you both know she won’t. “Hi, Joel, right? I’ve heard lots about ya,” she spits out at the speed of lightning as she holds her hand out for him to take, and she quickly follows by introducing her name. Joel chuckles at her eagerness and his date’s obvious embarrassment. It’s endearing. Reminds him of his relationship with Tommy. It warms him to know you have a true ride or die in your life, it’s rare to come across these days.

Eventually the introductions are over, your best friend is headed back to her home, and you and Joel are headed to some restaurant that he refuses to tell you the name or where it is, just that the “Drive is worth it, I promise.”

“A 40 minute drive?” you say jokingly just to rile him up, “This better be the best goddamn thing my mouth is ever gonna taste, then.”

His stare breaks from the road for a moment to look at you, then it’s back on the road. But he has a shit-eating grin on his face. “We might as well turn around then, huh? Because the best goddamn thing that mouth of yours is ever gonna taste is not available in any restaurant, no matter how far or fancy.”

It takes you a minute to register, but when it does, you can feel your cheeks and ears heat up, spreading down to your chest, and eventually his dirty implication forces the heat to settle in between your legs. “Christ,” you say under your breath as you shift your hips in his passenger seat, not wanting your already soaked pussy to get anywhere.

Maybe you should’ve worn some panties after all.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You guys are on the last stretch of your drive, about ten minutes left, and Joel’s hand has found his home on your thigh, thoughtlessly rubbing his fingers up and down. However, your mind is completely racing because fuck you just wish he’d move up a little higher to where you are absolutely begging for him the most.

As if he hears your plea, his hand goes higher and higher, but then he stops. His hand goes rigid, grip gets a little tighter, and his breath gets a little heavier. His hand is high enough to where he should be feeling the hem of your underwear, or at least that’s what he was expecting to feel.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” you say as innocently as possible.

“Are you not…?”

“No,” losing the innocence in a matter of seconds.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, baby,” he grits out as his hand resumes his path to your wetness. The closer he gets, the more your hips try and angle upwards so he can reach you better, and as soon as his fingers are running through your folds, you’re fucking done for.

“We’re not leavin’ this car ‘til you cum at least twice on my fingers,” he says, his voice completely dark now. “Ya hear me?” He questions as he applies pressure to your clit.

“Fuck! Yes- yes, please, Joel,” you whine out. You shift your body slightly towards his direction, and you open your legs as much as his truck allows you to. Immediately, his fingers slide from your clit and come down to your entrance, spreading your wetness all over you.

He dips into your hole, just one finger in and slowly starts pumping in and out. You’re so turned on by him that just one finger is enough to make that wet squelching sound from going in and out of you. You let out a moan at the action, your one hand shooting to grip the handle of your door and the other gripping onto his bicep. “You make the sweetest sounds for me, darlin’,” he says to you, southern twang increasing in line with his own arousal.

“Please, baby-” you mutter as your head falls back. His one finger speeds up at your words, “Oh, c’mon, use those words,” he teases a second finger at your entrance.

He’s only using one finger right now, and you’re already fucked out, unable to speak or think. You so badly want more of him, though, so you will yourself to talk. “Oh, p-please, an- another finger, Joel, please.. n-need you so bad, please,” you beg.

“That’s right, baby, usin’ your words for me,” he slides his second finger in, “Dámelo.” Give it to me.

“Oh my god,” you damn near scream out, his words spurring you on more than you’ve ever felt. More slick leaks out of you at his Spanish command. Of course he’s fucking sexy and has the filthiest mouth, in multiple languages, known to man. His two fingers are coming in and out of you at a delicious rate, the thickness and length of him hits that sweet spot in you without even trying. “Touch your clit, baby,” you barely hear him say with how blissed out your head feels. Slowly, you let go of the door handle beside you and bring your hand to your clit, rubbing messy circles on your center, coaxing your orgasm closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Joel, your fingers-” you say as he works you open. “My fingers, what? Go on, lemme hear you, trouble.”

Your breathing speeds up to an erratic pace, hot and heavy, “t-too fuck-” your moan cuts you off as your orgasm approaches. He makes his fingers bend in a motion that hits you right where you need it, and- “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Joel.”

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, his movements slowing momentarily.

In your foggy haze, you find yourself peaking at the time, and- It’s only been four fucking minutes? Never has a man ever been able to make you cum that fast. Your past girlfriends, absolutely, but the men you slept with? They’re not even worthy of the label boyfriend if you’re being completely honest. Whatever the case is, you just know Joel has you absolutely fucked. You knew this from the start, of course, but it’s finally setting in. When he’s knuckle-deep inside you while less than ten minutes out from your mystery date location. Chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?

You’re brought back from your slight distraction when you feel him pull out of you. You whimper at the loss, your hips raising for more. “I know, sugar, I know,” he comforts, “I just have to get a taste before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” His fingers disappear into his mouth, licking and sucking every last drop on him like you’re some lifesaving nectar he’s been searching all his life for. He lets out a pained groan, “I need to taste ya for real, fuck.”

He gives you no time to react to his words because his fingers are back inside you in no time. This time he pumps into you with a steady pace but a deep pressure that has you unable to take a single breath in. Your eyes are rolled back, and it feels like you’re drowning. Like you’re being consumed in everything Joel, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at this point as the heat spreads from the apples of your cheeks to the swell of your breasts all the way down to your core. The sounds flowing out of you are uncontrollable and pure filth, and it’s riling him up so much that he is in literal physical pain. His hand that’s on the wheel is gripping so hard that his knuckles are ghost white, and his entire face is flushed with the utmost amount of pained self control you’ve ever fucking seen.

“C’mon, my filthy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts out, “almost there, baby, need one more from you,” his pace finally speeding up in the way that he knows, from your first climax, will end you. He tried keeping his pace slow on purpose, so he can draw out all your beautiful moans and gasps and drag you further into that floating state of mind, but you’re nearly at your destination now and he so desperately needs to get out of this car before he drops his gentlemen promise and pulls over to take you right here in his truck. Unbeknownst to you, he pulls into a parking space that is completely excluded from the general population, and he leans over to bring his hand on your jaw to make you meet his eyes.

“You look at me when I make you cum, yeah, trouble?” he asks, though it’s not much of a question. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him and you try to answer him, but you’re feeling too good that as soon as you starts, “Anythinforyou, Jo-” your orgasm cuts you off and your mouth falls open with the most desperate and needy moans you’ve ever heard yourself make.

He continues his movements as you let yourself fall deeper and deeper, and only until the overstimulation begins to hit you do you realize where you are. “W-when did we park..?” you groan out as he removes his finger from your spent pussy. He chuckles at your cluelessness, “Few minutes ago, sweet girl,” he says as he brings his fingers up to his mouth yet again to lap up your arousal. The action alone has your pussy clenching for something more.

As if he can read your mind, “Later,” he smirks at you. “Let’s eat,” he adds as he gets himself out of the car and walks to your side, opening your door and guiding you out. “Thank you,” you say shyly, unable to look up at him and as you stand on your jello legs.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The restaurant he takes you to is absolutely gorgeous and lively. It’s an Italian restaurant, small and homey, and it seems like a locally owned business. It’s extremely dim, and the main sources of light are purple and red, pointing in the direction of the live music. You two are sitting in a booth in a dark corner, intimate and excluded.

“This place is really beautiful,” you tell him with a smile that makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. “You eat here often?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. Why is he nervous now when he just had you coming apart on his finger merely moments ago? Human emotion is a peculiar thing. “Actually, sorry-” he blurts. You sense his nerves, but you don’t mention it. It warms you that he’s actually nervous. It shows you he’s actively wanting more than just your lust-filled endeavors. You rest your arm along the table, your hand resting palm up near his own, offering him comfort. Silently telling him you’re nervous, too, for whatever it’s worth. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers with one another. You can see him physically relax. “I don’t really eat here often, but my daughter has dragged me here once or twice. The food is really fuckin’ good.”

“I’m excited,” you squeeze his hand to reflect your excitement. You’re usually the one making the pasta or any Italian dish you’ve been craving because cooking is what you were bred to do. Cooking is the way to the heart, your nonna always taught you. No matter how traditional the sentiment was, it was one you carry with you always. Naturally, you were a bit reluctant to indulge, but the entire atmosphere here screams authentic Italian culture, reminding you of your nonna and soothing your reluctances.

You both scour the menu for a moment, but you both settled on an option fairly quickly, your waiter comes right on queue. “Ciao! Can I start us off with anything to drink?”

Too enraptured by your food options, you forgot to decide your beverage. Before you can even begin to think, Joel is already on it. “Could we get two glasses of red, your house blend, please?”

“Right away, sir, I’ll be back with those in a moment and take your order, then,” he says as he steps away. Immediately then, another individual appears with two glasses and fills them up with water while you wait.

Joel’s focus is on the water being poured, while you’re still devouring him with your eyes. You and him never had a chance yet to talk about your backgrounds or your interests, but so far he’s doing a damn good job at dissecting you: your favorite food being Italian and your drink of choice always being red wine, and he got that, all unprompted.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and the sultry look you’re giving him makes him immediately heat up, his red flush making its appearance again. “What?” He gives you an amused grin.

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean back in your bench seat, “I just- you’re really impressing me. It’s quite the turn on.”

His expression turns from amused to aroused in seconds. “Oh?” He leans forward. “Tell me more?”

Before you can indulge, your waiter is back, placing a wine glass in front of each of you and pouring your glass a little over a third way full before he sets it down to begin taking your order.

“What can I get started for you guys?”

You signal for Joel to go first. The look on your face screams mischief, so he doesn’t question it. He orders the filet mignon gnocchi, tonight’s special. The waiter turns to you.

“Buonasera! Vorrei la carbonara, per favore,” (Good evening! I would like the carbonara, please) you say as you beam up at the waiter. His expression brightens tenfold as he realizes what language you just spoke to him. “Perfetto, la carbonara,” (Perfect, the carbonara) the waiter writes down, then looks between the both of you, “I’ll get these in right away.”

“Grazie,” (Thank you) you say, and you hear a small thank you coming from Joel as the waiter walks away. You and Joel meet each other’s gaze.

“You-” he breathes. He looks really shocked. And utterly turned on. “You speak Italian?” You don’t remember when, but his hold on your hand switched to running his finger up and down your forearm. Chills fall down your spine. “Mhm,” you respond with, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while you reach for a sip of your wine, as if you don’t know how much you just completely rocked his world.

“Fuckin’ trouble, I tell ya,” he says under his breath as he tries to casually adjust himself under the protection of the table and the dark lighting.

After your meals come out, the next 45 minutes are spent in easy conversation. You ask him questions that prompt responses ranging from telling you about his daughter to him being a single father to his contractor business with his younger brother, Tommy. In return, he asks you questions about your family, your best friend, and the question that’s been burning him all night, “Where the hell did you learn Italian?”

You chuckle at his eagerness. Who knew Joel Miller would have an auralism fetish? You wonder what else could spur him on. “I can ask you the same about your Spanish,” you say as you wipe your mouth from any pasta sauce. “Throwing your words at me while you have me wrapped around your fingers, literally.” You say it so casual yet bold that it does nothing but fire him up more. His self control slips more and more with every flirty and filthy word your mouth utters.

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Grew up bilingual,” he offers.

Southern drawl with a Spanish tongue? Yes, please, you think to yourself. You hum in agreement. He picks up on it. “Ah, I see.”

“Not bilingual, though,” you clarify with a smirk, mainly to test out just how turned on he’ll get at the prospect of your tongue being versed in a variety of ways.

One hand of his tightens as if he’s trying to really hold onto the string that’s keeping his self control at bay.

You sit and think for a minute. You grew up in a mixed ethnic household, so you have a few options you could choose to reveal right now, but there’s one in particular that you know will make him snap.

The waiter hands the bill directly to Joel. He’s writing down the tip and total as he murmurs to you, “What else do you know?” The waiter comes back and offers you both pleasantries and bids you goodnight, in Italian to you and English to Joel.

You lift your napkin up off your lap and begin to stand. He starts, but freezes as soon as you begin to speak, “Bueno,” you breathe out. “Me encantó la comida, pero tenemos que ir a la casa, ¿qué piensas?” (Well, I loved the food, but we have to go home, what do you think?) You begin to walk in the direction of the exit, but you don’t feel his warmth radiating from you, so you turn back around. He’s sitting back down at the edge of the seat. You go back to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Joel…you okay?”

“Yep,” he says strained, “Just, uh- need a minute.” Both his hands are situated on his knees and he’s leaning over a little. Your eyes drift to in between his thighs and god damn he’s hard. Painfully hard. His bulge is so big it has you holding back a whimper at the sight of it.

You can’t help but make this situation worse for him, it’s in your nature. So you bring your mouth down to his ear and in a low whisper, “Faster we get into the car, the faster I can take care of that for you, big boy.”

He stands at full height now, his body completely flush and towering over you. He takes one look at you and his hands are on your waist, spinning you around and guiding you to the car without a word.

You can feel yourself walking faster than you’ve ever done in your life, and thank Heavens you do because as soon as you reach the car, he wastes no time in turning you around and pinning you between the driver’s side door and his body.

His lips meet yours in a frenzy, it’s a clash of hot breath and tongue, and you take all of him in fervently. His tongue passes over yours in a way that has your knees buckling. He clocks it immediately and before you know it, his thick thigh is slotted between yours, nudging your core. You moan into his mouth at the pressure, and he pulls away to grab your jaw, forcing your attention onto him. “Gonna give me another one, baby?”

“Joel-” you start, but he cuts you off. “You’re gonna give me another one, right here, right on my fuckin’ thigh,” he demands, his grip on your jaw tightening with his words, “Am I understood?”

You nod your head frantically as much as his grip allows you, followed by a “Fuck, fuck, yes, Joel, yes, I understand,” and your hips start moving on their own accord. “That’s it,” he chuckles, eyes blown out in his arousal for you. One hand wraps around your waist while the other bunches the front of your dress so he can see the mess you’re creating on him.

If anyone were to walk by right now, they would get a full view of your sobbing cunt rubbing all over his dressed thigh. It’s lewd, it’s pornographic, and it would definitely get you arrested for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct. And even though those reasons should be enough for you to stop what you’re doing and tell Joel you want to just get home first (which he’d be more than willing to oblige to for your comfort), you don’t want to. The prospect of someone walking by to witness what this hunk of a man can reduce you down to is enough to push you to the edge that much faster.

He slightly rocks his thigh back and forth in time with the grind of your hips, the now wet fabric catching enticingly on your clit. Joel’s grip on your waist tightens, encouraging more pressure into you. He lets go of your dress to slip his fingers in between your cunt and his thigh, adding more stimulation to the bundle of nerves as he pushes himself into you to meet you in another wet kiss. His lips leave your mouth and make its way down your jaw to just below your ear, and he bites. Hard. The searing sensation mixed with everything else makes your vision go white, and you’re literally creaming all over his black dress pants. He soothes that part of your neck with more sucking and licking as your hips come to a halt, his fingers still rubbing slowly, ever so often teasing them at your entrance.

Your full weight is leaned against his truck, and the only reason you’re still standing right now is because of his hold on you. He knows this, so keeping his one arm around your waist, he slowly pulls away from you to bend down and bring his other arm under your knees. He picks you up and cradles you to the front seat of his truck. He sets you down gently, buckles you in, and before he steps away to the driver side, he uses his pointer and thumb to nudge your chin up to his level, and he kisses you so sweetly, the butterflies in both your bellies fluttering like crazy at the feeling. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers.

“Then take me home, cowboy.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Ironically enough, your car ride back to your apartment is filled with the sweetness of each other’s presence, your main conversation of getting to know each other from dinner picking back up. The first few minutes of pulling out of the parking lot and getting onto the main road was you bringing yourself back down from your orgasmic high. You wanted to take care of Joel, so that’s what you started to do as soon as you gained your consciousness again, but he stopped you.

“Trust me, darlin’, I want you to so fuckin’ bad,” he says as he regretfully puts your hand back on the middle console and engulfs your hand in his. “But, at least, for tonight, I need to get you off before I do.”

You look at him even though he can’t meet your gaze. The gesture is heartwarming, you’ve never had anyone like this before. And although pleasing your partner is equally as pleasing for you, you don’t argue—but you are confused. “You did get me off, though…three times already?”

He smirks and meets your eyes for a moment before turning back. “That was just your appetizer, baby,” he lifts your hand up to his mouth and leaves a kiss to the back of it.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh,” you squeak out. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, “Okay then.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As soon as he parks, he’s out of the car in an instant, opening your door and guiding you out again. You walk up to your door, fumbling for your keys to unlock it. He’s behind you, lips hungrily kissing up and down your neck and your shoulder. As soon as you get it open, you turn around to face him, your lips smashing into his and tugging him into the house as you walk backwards towards the direction of the nearest piece of furniture possible. He kicks your door shut and swiftly locks it, his one hand only leaving you for an unnoticeable second.

You were trying to lead him to your living room, but somehow you ended up crashing into your dining table. He doesn’t care though because his hands are grabbing at your hips, hoisting you up. He breaks the contact with your lips and you whine at the loss, but immediately he’s kneeling. Third time today, you think to yourself, could definitely get used to this view.

“Told ya, I needed to taste you for real, sweet girl,” he says as he runs his hands up your thighs. “Spread your legs, baby.”

You gather the front of your dress and let it pool beside you, your bottom half completely bare to him. You spread your legs and bring your hips to the very edge, your core completely at his mercy. His eyes grow completely black at the view, your wetness dripping out of you.

He secures his hands at your hips, borderline grasping at the globes of your asscheeks, and your thighs hooked on his shoulders. He leaves warm, open-mouth kisses up your thigh, alternating between both. Once he reaches your sex, you realize there is absolutely no stopping him until he’s had his fill. Your one hand stays behind on the dining table to hold you up while the other flies to the back of his head, gripping the curls at the base of his neck.

You’ve never felt anything like this before. His plush lips kissing every place vulnerable to you with such a velvety sensation, his tongue pushing into you and nudging areas you didn’t know a tongue could reach, and his nose—My God, his fucking nose—providing life-altering sensation directly on your clit.

The only noises in your apartment are the sounds of his slurping mixed with your high-pitched moans and occasional dirty praise, and you’re sure your neighbors can hear you, but you’re feeling way too fucking good to even care about that right now.

“Just like that, fuck-” your hips start grinding into his face, “-shit, you feel so fucking good, Joel, yes!” You gasp out as his rhythm changes, forcing you to the edge for the fourth time tonight.

He pulls you in impossibly closer and shoves his face impossibly deeper, and at that moment, your orgasm crashes into you. Your arm that was holding you up gives way and you fall back into the dining table, back arching while your thighs tighten around Joel’s head. The feeling of being completely consumed by you eggs him on so much that he can’t bring himself to stop. He continues devouring you like his life depends on it, his moans and whines vibrating you deep within. You don’t know if it’s another orgasm hitting you or an aftershock from the one you just had, but all you know is that your ass is completely off the dining table and he’s holding you into his face drinking every last drop.

You use all your strength to pull yourself back up, both your arms behind you to hold you up. You try and scoot your ass back onto the table, but Joel is still gripping onto you, spoiling the entire area with slow, deep kisses. He gives extra attention on your thighs, sucking bruises that’ll flourish through the night. Loving the sensation but not loving the way your ass is hitting against the table, you softly call his name with a smile full of adoration, “Let’s take this to my room, maybe?”

He stands to his full height while scooting you back to be able to sit properly again. His smile mirrors yours. He grabs your face with both his hands and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but tasting yourself on him is a taste you don’t think you’ll ever tire of. Your tongue caresses his bottom lip, and he opens, pulling you in, his tongue embracing yours in an all-consuming dance.

Your hands begin to roam at his sides, making your way to the buttons of his dress shirt, and it’s then that he pulls away, remembering the question you asked. “Wait, wait,” he says. He opens your legs a little more so he can step in between. His hands are underneath you once again, and he nudges you forward, wordlessly telling you to wrap your legs around his waist. So you do, and he picks up, chuckling at the squeal you let out when your body reaches the air, and he leads you to your bedroom.

He lets you plop onto the edge of the bed and get yourself situated in the center. He finishes what you started and starts undressing himself. His shirt is the first to go, unbuttoning, untucking, and letting it fall to a random place on your floor. Looking down at you ready for him, he takes a step closer, unbuckling his belt, pulling them out of the loops, letting it follow the same path as his shirt.

He’s been catching the way you’ve been admiring all day, so he indulges in your fantasy a little in the way he undresses himself for you. With every article that gets removed, he watches your eyes grow hungrier, your breathing heavier. You’re too occupied at the sight of his body, you don’t make any move to pull your dress off, but that’s okay. Joel wants to be the one to unwrap his dessert.

Joel removes his pants and boxers in one go, and you let out an involuntary gasp at the sight in front of you. He is fucking huge. His length isn’t overbearing, but it’s his fucking girth that’s throwing you in for a loop. Your anxiety starts to rise a little; you have never been with a man as well-endowed as Joel and no strap-on you’ve taken could ever resemble what you’re about to take right now.

You fell into your overthinking, not realizing that Joel has made his way over you. He grounds you with a kiss, stealing all your worries. He grazes his finger over your forehead, pushing a hair away. The action makes you melt. Oh, there goes the butterflies, again. He guides your head to angle down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and back to your lips once more. He makes sure your eyes are on each other before he says, “We do not have to do anything more if you are not ready, sweet girl.”

He’s been pretty dominating all night, which you don’t mind at all, but this coming out of his mouth at the fire of your anxieties completely distinguishes them. You know you’re safe with him. Your eyes tear up and before you speak, you snake your hand to the back of his neck and yank him into you for another kiss. As he pulls away, a tear falls, but his thumb catches it.

“I trust you, Joel, I need you,” you say as you lean into the warmth of his hand, “Please.”

“Sit up for me real quick then, darlin’,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and pulling you up with him. His hands find the hem of your silky dress, and he slowly guides it up your thighs, up your torso, and you lift your arms off so he can guide it off completely. Now it’s his turn to admire. It’s as if his eyes don’t know where to look first: at your luscious thighs, your beautiful tummy, your full chest. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, not meant for you to really hear, but it makes you flutter all the same.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he says as he continues admiring you. You lay back down again, reaching your arm up to drag the pillow below your head. You spread your legs, inviting him in, letting him know you’re ready. But what he does next absolutely surprises you. He grabs your leg at the ankle and lays kisses everywhere. Up your calf, the bend of your knee, all around your thigh in the areas he marked earlier. He reaches your mound and makes no move to dive in. Instead, he lays kisses in the area, even a kiss is placed directly on your clit. You moan at the feeling. He mirrors his actions on your other leg. Then, he bends forward and begins kissing your tummy. Kisses in the general vicinity of your belly button, your ribs, making his way up your sternum.

Granted, your body is buzzing in arousal right now, and you’re making a puddle in your sheets, but mentally, the way he is appreciating your body has you feeling utterly content.

Your hand finds its home again in his neck just as Joel reaches your breasts. He continues his journey and kisses all around, his tongue swirling around your nipples. Your back arches at this, and you feel him smile against you as his hands wrap around your ribs, his thumbs caressing underneath your boobs. His mouth makes its way to your neck.

His mouth transitions to longer, wetter kisses, leaving trails of spit on the valley of your breasts and on your neck. The cooling of his spit coaxes a whimper out of you, wanting more of him. Wanting to drink him. His mouth finally meets yours and it’s slow but desperate, your hips lifting to meet his at an attempt for any kind of relief. His tongue massages yours and you can feel the spit build up; you eagerly try and lap it up.

You pull him away for a moment, slightly bashful to ask, but you need it so bad. “C-can you…” your gaze slips from his. His hand on your rib comes up to rest on the lower part of your neck, his fingertips grazing your jaw but also softly guiding you to look at him again. His eyebrow quirks up at you. Go on, he’s telling you. “Can you, uh- I-” you completely fumble. “Words, trouble,” he smirks, the nickname eliciting a sense of comfort within you.

“Canyouspitinmymouth, please?” You rush out with your eyes clamped shut, scared of what his reaction would be. He doesn’t say a thing, waiting for you to come to your senses and open your eyes. As soon as you do, he’s on you again, kissing you like before you pulled away to ask your question. Except this time, his fingertips secure themselves on the hinge of your jaw and nudge you open. Your lips but a whisper apart, his spit falling into your mouth, as your tongues’ tips dance around one another.

The moans you let out for him are sounds he never wants to give up. He’ll let you drink him dry if this is what he hears in his last breaths.

He pulls away, a spit string connecting you both. You lean forward, attaching to his bottom lip for a moment more before you let yourself pull away, then you swallow.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” you breathily giggle. He smirks at your antics, leaning in for another kiss to distract you. He reaches for another pillow above your head, and as your kiss becomes more heated, you grind your hips up into him, giving him perfect timing to slot the pillow underneath your lower back.

You pull back, “Wha-” you start to question, but he’s quick to respond. He sits back up for a sec, “It’ll help,” he says, and he brings both your legs into a bent position, like frog legs, in a way. Your confusion immediately fades as you physically feel your pelvic floor open up. Oh.

“I thought you were a contractor, not a chiropractor?” you tease.

“Watch it,” he warns. “You know, I could just,” his fingers graze your glistening entrance, “force it in,” he slips a finger in, slowly. You gasp, teasing demeanor gone in an instant. “No preppin’ this tight little thing,” he pulls his finger completely out, you whine in response. “How ‘bout that?”

A barely audible please escapes your mouth, unsure of what it is you’re begging for, and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

His eyes darken, “Oh, she likes that idea, huh?” He’s leaning over you now, kissing your jaw and neck as he grabs himself by the base and lines his tip up to your warmth. “Maybe next time. Right now, trouble, I’m takin’ my damn time with you.”

He grabs himself by the base and guides himself to your entrance, his other hand at the side of your head. He lets his cock grind against your wet folds for a few moments, covering himself in your earlier climax, and then his tip catches at your entrance. You both let out a sharp gasp at the sensation, and he slowly starts pushing in.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he whimpers, “so fuckin’ good, fuck.”

Your pussy clenches at his tone of desperation, and his one arm moves to situate underneath the curve of your back, accentuating it. He’s halfway in you and the painful yet pleasing stretch of your pussy has you closing your eyes at the sensation.

“Baby, eyes on me, need t’see you,” he says, reaching down to nip your bottom lip. Your eyes shoot open and your brows furrow, your pouty face doing nothing to ease his yearn of just pushing completely in you with no remorse.

Finally he bottoms out, both your hips flush with one another, and being completely engulfed in you like this, he can’t hold out any longer. “Look, doll,” he rasps. His hand beside you snakes underneath your head and he’s lifting it for you to look down. “It’s like you’re made f’me, huh?” He says as he begins to pull out of you until only the tip is in.

Your eyes are fixed on the sight below you. Your pussy absolutely stretched out, his dick completely covered in your juices. You don’t have the mental capacity to form anything coherent. Joel knows that, so giving you no time to acknowledge his filthy words, he pushes inside you again. This time much faster and much harder.

He continues that rough and fast pace for a while, kissing and biting everywhere his mouth can reach, relishing in the constant moans and whimpers spewing from your mouth.

“S-so big,” your voice quivers.

“But you’re takin’ it so well, sweet girl,” he replies, voice husky and strained. He sits up a little to stand on his knees, his pace faltering momentarily. His arm from your waist moves down to the underside of the bend on your knee. He pushes your leg higher, opens you up more. The angle makes you flutter around his cock, and he can’t help but speed up.

“Fuck,” he grits out, “not gonna last with that, sweetheart.”

His hand beside your head moves to rest at the base of your neck, his fingers splayed wide across you, giving him more leverage to rock in and out of you. You feel your body wanting to arch up into him, but the hold he has on you and the angle you’re in gives him complete control over you. The thought brings you higher, and you can’t help what spills from your mouth next.

“‘S okay, Joel, p-please,” you moan, “Use me, use my pussy, daddy.”

His hand trails a little higher and now he’s completely wrapped around your neck, his thrusts sloppy, but harder than you’ve ever felt before. “Say that again, sweetheart?” he rushes, hurtling towards his release.

You let both your hands come up to grab ahold of the hand wrapped around your throat. You pulse your grip, hinting at him to squeeze. He gets it, and within seconds, his fingers are right on your pulse points, applying pressure and giving you a yummy dizziness.

Your breath hitches and your voice picks up in pitch, “U-use me, daddy, I want your cum, please.” His other hand reaches for your clit. You gasp out. Immediately then, a lightbulb turns on in your mind, and a dazed smile forms across your face.

“Yeah, baby, that what you want?” he says as his ministrations on your clit picks up, his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you, over and over again. “Wanna be pumped full of daddy’s cum?”

“Ay, dámelo, papi, dámelo.”

It’s as if you two were really standing on an edge of a cliff, and you pushed him off with just your words. He roars out an addictive moan, and his release coats your walls. The warmth flooding in you and the pulse of his cock mixed with his fingers still circling, and you’re getting pushed off the cliff with him. His fingers begin to slow, and he’s letting go of your throat. He leans back over you to meet your lips, and you take him in. Quite sloppily, though, you’re doing the best you can with the feeling of his hips still slowly rocking into you, the overstimulation milking both of you for all that you’re worth.

You both stay like that for a few minutes longer, basking in the softness of him on your lips, inside you.

But then immediately he pulls away — and pulls out. You both hiss at the feeling.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m sorry-” he starts blabbering, but you cut him off with a finger on his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” you say as you take a deep breath for him to mirror, “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath and repeats himself, calmer this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask where you wanted-” he gestures to his cum beautifully dripping from your entrance, “I know how risky that was- and we didn’t even use protection, I-” his panic starting to rise again.

You put your hand on his sternum and put a little pressure, figuring if your anxiety sits there, it’s worth a shot to see if that’s where his sits, too. It does. He looks down at your hand and back up at you, kind of shocked but not more than the situation at hand to question how you know that would help.

“A few things,” you say as you keep your hand on him. “One, I never stopped you, we both took the risks. Two, luckily enough for the both of us, I’m on the pill.” He smiles at that. “And three, even if I wasn’t on the pill” you continue, “I wouldn’t mind picking up a Plan B if it meant I got to feel you like that inside of me again…” your voice trails off and immediately he pulls your hand away from his front up to his mouth to press several kisses on your palm, bursting in lighthearted laughter, his anxiety fading away.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Joel laid in bed, tangled up in each other, for a little while longer, but he could sense the mess started to make you a little uncomfortable. He pulled both you and him off your bed, guiding you with his hands on your hips but ultimately letting you take the lead to your bathroom.

He guides you to your toilet and starts scouring your bathroom to find your washcloths. Once he does, he soaks it in warm water, and falls down to your level, so he can clean you. You reach out to grab the washcloth, thinking you’re gonna be the one doing it, but he’s quick to swat your hand away with a smile. He asks softly, “May I?”

Your eyes meet his, and all you can see is a genuine softness and a genuine yearn to take care of you. It makes you breathless. “Yeah,” you return his softness.

Being the pretty kinky and adventurous person that you were, aftercare always existed for you. Albeit, some of your past partners were more tender than others, but none of them treated you in a way that made you feel like you two were endgame. There’s something about Joel and the way he can be so soft, warm, and appreciative. He’s so experienced and considerate that you know he’s probably had his fair share of lovers in his past, but the way he treats you makes you feel like everything back then was solely leading him to this very moment. Like he spent years searching, and now that he’s found you, he needs to make sure what’s his is truly being taken care of in the way it deserves.

The thought and his actions should scare you, but they don’t.

There are people who spend years dating each other, still trying to figure out if they’re meant to be. There are married couples filing for divorce because they learned that they weren’t for each other after all.

There are others who get married after six months because they just know. Then, there’s you and Joel. Obviously you’re not going to marry him tomorrow but as you sit here, letting him care for you in such a way you’ve never felt before, you feel it. The rightness. The belonging. He’s gonna be in your life for a long, long time, and one of the most important people in your life at that. You don’t say any of this, though. You can’t. It’s too soon.

So, for now, you’ll just let your actions speak louder than words, and show him just how much you need him in your life.

“I’m cooking for us next time,” you say, pulling Joel from his own thoughts.

“Okay,” he says without a second thought. Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the exact same thing as you.

He feels it, too, and just like you, for now, he’ll let his actions speak louder than his words.

He reaches over and plops the washcloth into the sink, his eyes on you.

“Only if we christen the dining table before dinner.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks go hot.

Yeah, you are absolutely fucked. And so is he.

I hope you guys enjoyed!🥹 As always, feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. is extremely appreciated! Thank you to every single one of you for welcoming me with open, loving arms. I'm giving all of you forehead smooches right now. I love you all. So much.

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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thebearer · 10 months

Note

what about reader coming to the restaurant before family cause she had a bad day and carmen was pissed off about something wrong that happened but when he sees you looking up at him pouting, his demeanor switches so fast

"Fuck, Richie, can you quit fuckin' with me!" Carmen roars, slinging the bowl with a hard shove.

"Cousin, I'm not doin' shit to you, alright?" Richie seethes, rolling his eyes as the other chefs- the new hires- avoid eye contact. Carmen doesn't act erratically often, tried not to for his reputation's sake, but today was a bad day.

"Hey, cousin, you need to chill the fuck out, alright? Get it out of your fuckin' system now before dinner rush because those people," Richie pointed through the window, where there was an empty dining room- for now. It would be filled by six o'clock. "Will fuckin' see you actin' like a jagoff."

"I wouldn't act like a fuckin' jagoff if you would do what I fuckin' ask you to!" Carmen roared, eyes bulging and vein by his neck protruding.

"Hey, relax, alright." Richie grit, breathing deeply out his nose. "Go fuckin' take a break. We got it. Go see your girl or somethin'. Get that stress out, for fucksake."

"The fuck are you talkin' about-"

"Your girl has been in your office for this past twenty minutes while you were actin' like a moron." Richie snapped, Carmen's demeanor suddenly faltering. "Yeah, get embarrassed, cousin. She heard all that shit."

"Just- shut the fuck up, alright? Fuck you." Carmen huffed, stomping towards the office.

"Don't fuck me. Go fuck her. Get some of that fuckin' attitude out, holy shit." Richie snarled, rolling his eyes.

Carmen ignored him, walking through the door of the office. You sat at his desk, mindlessly scrolling though your phone, barely looking up when he walked in. "I swear to God, Richie's a fuckin' pain in my ass." Carmen started in, ignoring your solemn expression. "Fuckin' wise ass. Thinks he knows fuckin' everything, and you know what? He- What's the matter with you?" Carmen stopped his ranting and pacing, skidding to a stop to look at you. Your sad eyes and long face.

"Nothin'." You muttered, looking up at Carmen gently. "What did Richie do?"

Carmen shook his head, sitting on the desk in front of you. "Not important. Tell me what's wrong, hm? What's goin' on?"

You faltered for a moment, deciding to shake your head and ignore your emotions. "It's nothing, Carm-"

"-You're lyin' to me." Not a question, a fact. Carmen's raised brow to you that. "Why are you lyin' to me?"

"I'm not, it's just..." The shaky breath you took in, a strangled, watery gasp had Carmen's heart lurching. "I just had a really bad day." You hated the way your voice cracked, wobbling and wavering with emotions. You'd cried all the way here, the freshness of the tears coming back to you again, flooding your waterline.

"What happened, baby?" Carmen's tone dropped into a coo, a soothing balm over your teary demeanor.

"It's just... I don't know, I felt like I couldn't get anything right today, and-and I just... I'm really tired." You admitted with a small quake in your tone. "I just want this day to be over."

"Did someone say something to you?" You'd bitched a few times about a coworker making off handed remarks to you, and Carmen was more than happy to say something to him. He didn't mind at all, insisted on it, in fact.

"No, it wasn't Toby." You rolled your eyes at the mention of him. "He wasn't bad today, actually, which made it worse. I just, I don't know, my mind was all over the place today and I-I'm just stressed."

"I'm sorry, baby." Carmen rasped, hand on yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

"It's ok." You pouted, exhaling deeply. "I just want to go home and not have another fucking thought for the rest of the day.

"Wish I could help you with that." Carmen grinned, playfully, proud to see that you smirked, shaking your head at him. "'m serious. You need me to do anything?"

"No." You shook your head. "I'm starving, so I'm gonna eat and then go home. Sit in the bath until I dissolve." You grin lightly up at him.

Carmen smiled, leaning over to kiss you sweetly, hands cupping your face, tasting the saltiness of your tears still lingering on your lips. "Are you hungry now? I can get you somethin' to eat real quick, baby. What do you want?"

"No, Carmy, I'll be alright-"

"Hey, Marcus," Carmen was sticking his head out already. "You got any focaccia ready?"

"Yes, Chef, I have a few prepped-"

"-Gimme one, please. Thanks, Marcus." Carmen nodded, taking the bread, and passing it over to you.

You frowned at him. "I was fine, Carmy. Could've waited until family." You pouted, but you were already tearing the bread basket open, mouth watering at the sight.

Carmen grinned. "I know, but I don't want you to go hungry. Had to taste tonight anyways. Tell me what you think." He muttered, watching you tear off a piece.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #thebearerblurbs #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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megalony · 2 months

Text

Worth The Wait

This is an Eddie x reader x Evan imagine, requested by the lovely @itsmytimetoodream I hope you like how it turned out honey. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When (Y/n) goes into labour, it is far from easy and ends up being a long, hard few days. But the boys help her through it.

Enjoy.

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

As hard as she tried, (Y/n) couldn't stop the tears from trickling down her face and it made her breaths hitch higher in her throat. Her teeth sank down into her lower lip until she could taste blood trickling onto her tongue and turning her mouth sour.

(Y/n) pressed her hands down into the mattress and pushed herself until she was sitting up rather than lying down, but it didn't help. It relieved the weight from her back, but it made the tension shift around in her stomach and the pain was still igniting in her lower back. Right between her hips, it felt like a fire was slowly licking at her hip bones and working its way up along her spine.

She tried to take a deep, steady breath but her back was twinging and seizing up and (Y/n) didn't know what to do with herself anymore.

Reaching her hand out, she gently grabbed Eddie's forearm that was slumped across the middle of the bed. She shook his arm a few times before just pulling his arm until the jolt made his head push down into the pillow and shocked him awake.

"Hm… mi amor, what're you doing?" He stretched his other arm above his head and propped his head up on his hand.

He moved his hand round and twisted his arm out of her grasp so he could press his hand against her lower back.

Eddie didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was late. He had fallen asleep around eleven o'clock so surely it had to be sometime after midnight. (Y/n) didn't usually wake him up. She got up a lot during the night to go to the bathroom and Eddie never woke up or heard her, and she didn't wake him up during the night for anything.

When she had twisted her ankle while he was taking a nap she just hobbled into bed with him and didn't bother to wake him and tell him.

"Eddie, it hurts." Her voice and the little whimper she let out made Eddie wake up on red alert. His head pushed up off his hand and he sat up in bed, moving the cover away from him so he could shuffle into the middle of the bed and sit behind her.

"What hurts, baby?"

His hand stayed on her back while his other hand held her arm and he leaned forward, pressing his lips against her shoulder.

"Everything. God, my back kills a-and the baby keeps moving, Eddie it's bad."

"Okay, okay I know." He could tell immediately that this had to be bad because Eddie knew (Y/n) wouldn't wake him if she was only in slight discomfort. It had to be bad for her to wake him and ask for help.

He began smoothing his hand across her back in slow circles and when (Y/n) leaned her head back on his shoulder, Eddie let go of her arm to press his hand against her abdomen. He waited a few seconds before moving his hand around and tried to press around her stomach.

"You might be going into labour, mi amor." His hand stayed on her back while he reached out to turn the lamp on and shake his head to liven up.

It seemed about right. (Y/n) was thirty-eight weeks pregnant now and they knew that she could go into labour at any moment. That was why Eddie and Evan were working alternate shifts for the next two weeks so that when (Y/n) went into labour, one of them would be home with her. And then they could take their agreed annual leave together to be home with (Y/n), Chris and the new baby.

Eddie knew (Y/n) had been having back pains for the last few days, but he noticed she was very uncomfortable tonight. She couldn't focus on watching tv, she was tired but couldn't settle to sleep and she had clung to him all evening.

"So, so we wait?"

"Afraid we do. I'll time the contractions when they start, hopefully Buck will be home by then."

They couldn't do very much right now. All (Y/n) could do was take painkillers and try to either sleep or move through the pain until her waters broke and the contractions became frequent. The midwife had told them they couldn't go to the hospital until contractions were ten minutes apart or preferably less.

They had a long wait on their hands.

And Eddie didn't want to ring Evan yet while he was on shift. It was past midnight, chances were Evan was either in the bunker room taking a nap or he would be out on a call. It wouldn't be fair to ring him and tell him (Y/n) was in labour when right now, it was the early stages. They couldn't go to hospital or do anything so Evan didn't have to come home because it would just be a long wait.

He may as well stay at work, Evan was the hyperactive one out of the three of them. He was the one who needed to be busy and telling him (Y/n) was in labour would make him flutter about, desperate to find things to do.

"Do you want to try and sleep?" Eddie went back to kissing her shoulder and rubbing his palm across her lower back to see if it would help relieve her pain and discomfort.

It would be easier for (Y/n) to get some sleep now rather than when the contractions started and the pain got worse. But if she didn't want to, Eddie would gladly stay awake with her. And he smiled into her skin when she shook her head and wiggled onto the edge of the bed.

"I can't sleep." She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but sleeping was definitely not on the list.

"Do you want a bath?" Eddie grinned softly when (Y/n) turned her head to look back at him. He could see the small smile forming on her lips and the perplexed look in her eyes. It wasn't really a normal thing to have a bath after midnight like this, but it sounded appealing. "Come on, let's have a bath."

It wouldn't be the first time Eddie had found (Y/n) in the bath in the early hours of the morning, but that was usually around four or five. (Y/n) tended to feel most comfortable in the bath and she seemed certain that their baby only slept when (Y/n) was laid in the bath. It might work in easing her back pain and make her feel a bit better. Time might also go a bit faster if (Y/n) was comfortable.

"You can go back to sleep, you know." (Y/n)'s voice was soft and quiet and made Eddie's heart flutter as he climbed off the bed and stood in front of her.

"I'll sleep when you sleep. But if you're awake, then so am I." He would gladly take a nap later if (Y/n) managed to get some sleep, but if she was awake in pain, Eddie was staying up with her.

He and Evan promised her they would do this with her and if (Y/n) was in labour, Eddie was going to be right by her side.

She wrapped her hands around Eddie's arm and pressed her lips against his bicep, following him out the bedroom and into the bathroom. Her lips curled into a grateful smile when Eddie found some painkillers in the cabinet and handed them over before he turned the bath on.

"I hope Chris won't need the toilet soon." Eddie murmured quietly while he ran the bath and pushed the bathroom door closed to be safe. They didn't want to wake him.

Chris didn't usually wake up during the night and he rarely got up to use the toilet. But it would be just their luck for him to wake up now and want to go when they were both getting in the bath.

"Do me a favour?" (Y/n)'s eyes followed Eddie as he leaned back up and moved his hands to his hips, nodding silently. She watched the confusion light up his face when she gingerly took his wrist and moved his hand to the middle of her back. "Push." Her request took Eddie by surprise, but he obliged.

He pressed the base of his palm into her back while (Y/n) squared her shoulders and tried to straighten up. A horrible click echoed off the tiles and made Eddie wince, but he could see it helped.

"Alright, come on."

(Y/n) stripped off and let Eddie climb in first before she took his hands and climbed in. When she turned round, his hands moved to her hips to help ease her down and he spread his legs so she could sit between his thighs that clamped down around her hips.

She eased her back into Eddie's chest and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, pressing a tender kiss beneath his chin when his arms wound around her waist. It tickled when he started drawing patterns over her stomach, but when he switched to moving his hands around her stomach, it felt soothing.

"Not long now," Eddie whispered against the top of her hair while he closed his eyes.

It felt like years had passed since they found out about the baby. Everything seemed to have happened in a rush. Telling their families, Evan arguing with his parents and begging them to be happy for him rather than judging him. Eddie's family trying their best to understand and agree because they could see how happy Evan and (Y/n) made Eddie.

Telling the team, getting things ready, telling Chris who had then been adamant he was going to help paint the spare room and help both dads put everything together.

It all seemed to have happened ages and ages ago, but now, they were so close to meeting their new arrival.

"Finally."

***

Moving her hands, (Y/n) leaned forward until her lower back was arched out and her hands were planted down on the bed to prop herself up. She bit down on her lip to swallow down a groan and tried to wait out the sharp pain that tore through her abdomen and around near her hips.

When it finally stopped, she opened her eyes and looked across at the clock on the night stand. Her lip wobbled and her hand slammed down into the bed as she bit down a cry of anger.

Thirty minutes.

Her back pain had been consistent, but her contractions were still just about half an hour apart. She thought for sure that it had only been twenty minutes since her last contraction. Eddie was timing them, but (Y/n) was too because she was becoming impatient.

Not long after she and Eddie got out the bath this morning, a contraction started. The pair of them had managed an hour of sleep, then another power nap early on in the morning. But (Y/n) was getting tired. She wasn't sleepy, she just wanted the pains to become persistent.

She wanted the contractions to speed up and for labour to get moving, she didn't want to be stuck waiting around for the pains to hit and for her back to keep seizing up like this. (Y/n) didn't like waiting.

She reached out for the bag in the middle of the bed and launched it off the bed, across the room. They didn't need it yet. They didn't need the hospital bag (Y/n) had packed last week. Her contractions were nowhere near together and her water hadn't broken yet. They wouldn't be at the hospital anytime soon and that thought made tears burn into her face.

"Baby… have you had another contraction?" Eddie glanced down at his watch as he walked into the bedroom and moved to stand behind (Y/n). When she nodded, he smiled and curved an arm around her back. "That's good, and I've called Carla. She can get Chris from school later if we need her to, and she'll look after him when we're ready."

Carla was more than happy to pick Chris up this afternoon and she had agreed months in advance to have Chris whenever (Y/n) went into labour. Chris loved her and he felt comfortable with her if he couldn't be with one of his three parents.

"It's not good. We'll still be here when he comes home, it's taking forever."

(Y/n) hated to whine but she couldn't help it. At this rate they would still be home this afternoon by the time Chris came back from school, it didn't feel like they would be getting to the hospital any time soon.

"Baby, it's okay, we knew it might take a while. Things will speed up soon." When (Y/n) turned around, Eddie reeled her into his chest.

He felt how tightly her hands dug into his shoulder blades and and each harsh breath that fanned into his shirt when she buried her face against his sternum. He smoothed his hand up and down the middle of her back while his right hand cupped the back of her neck and he peppered kisses against the back of her head.

"I want this to go smoothly." (Y/n) mumbled into his chest while he started to sway them from side to side.

"I know baby, and it will, I promise. Me and Buck are gonna take care of you, and you're gonna be fine."

She wanted labour to go swiftly and easily and have no complications or problems along the way. And (Y/n) wanted to be selfish and wish for the process to speed up. But she knew with it being her first, the chances were higher that it would take a while. She thought she had been prepared for waiting, but it was starting to get tiresome.

"There we go, I think Buck's home." Eddie continued to sway them from left to right as if they were having some kind of slow dance together. He could hear the front door slam shut and the heavy, pounding footsteps signalled Evan was home.

That was good timing, now (Y/n) was having contractions, she needed them both here with her. And they needed to get ready for when it was time to take her to the hospital. Plus, Evan didn't know labour had started yet. He was under the assumption that he could come home, grab a snack and maybe take a power nap and relax with his partners.

He didn't know what he was going to walk into.

"Well, this is a nice view." Evan folded his arms over his chest and pressed his shoulders back against the door frame. One leg crossed over the other and he rose a brow as he looked over at his partners.

Usually, when he came home he would find Eddie pottering about the house or find he had gone to the gym. And (Y/n) would be reading a book, taking a nap or mooching about the house trying to keep busy. This was the first time he had come home to find them cuddled together like they were trying to dance.

"Can I step in?"

Stepping forward, he held his hands out towards them but the bright smile on his lips faded when he watched them closely. He watched Eddie turn to the side as (Y/n) patted her hand on the bed to silently signal that she wanted to sit down. And Evan could feel the panic bubbling up in his chest when (Y/n) sat down and groaned.

Her head flopped forward and her hands started to rake up and down her thighs, scratching into her skin as she arched her back out to try and release the tension.

"Baby what's wrong?" Evan knelt down in front of (Y/n)'s knees and gently took her hands so she would stop scratching. He didn't want her to hurt herself and he needed to know what was wrong. He didn't like the way (Y/n) avoided his eyes and looked up at Eddie instead.

"She went into labour this morning, contractions have finally started." Eddie sat down on the end of the bed beside (Y/n) but he sighed when Evan's expression changed.

"Why didn't you call me?!" He seemed stuck between wanting to reach out and slap Eddie's thigh, wanting to curl his hands into fists, and feeling desperate to comfort (Y/n) in some way. So Evan settled on moving his hands up and down (Y/n)'s thighs while she braced her hands on the bed and leaned back.

"Buck, what difference would it have made?"

"I'm you're bloody partner Eddie, it would have made a lot of difference to know our girlfriend is in labour while I'm not fucking here."

Evan's snappy response was instant and the anger burned bright in his eyes, making Eddie wince while (Y/n) reached down to hold Evan's shoulder. They hadn't done this intentionally to upset him. They didn't want to panic him and drag him home just to wait around. It was easier for Evan to finish his shift because now both men were done with work and once they told Bobby (Y/n) was in labour, their annual leave would start right away.

"And you coming home early wouldn't change the fact that this takes hours, Buck. It's been eight hours and nothing has happened yet, so calm down."

"Thanks. Why not just call me when the baby's born-"

"Stop it." (Y/n) dug her nails into Evan's shoulder and moved her other hand to slap Eddie's thigh. She didn't want them arguing right now, she wanted one of them to make this process speed up so they could have their baby. "You're here now and this baby is taking their sweet time anyway… can I get a hand up, I need to get a drink."

Evan rolled his lips together but nodded, silently ending the disagreement. He wasn't best pleased, but he was relieved to see that this was clearly the start of labour. He hadn't missed much and he was here now, that was all that mattered.

They were all together.

He pushed up and took (Y/n)'s hands, carefully pulling her up while Eddie held her hips and stood behind her once she was up. Evan kept hold of her hand and moved towards the door, but he stopped and turned round when (Y/n) sharply tugged on his hand and stopped walking.

(Y/n) looked down before her eyes locked with Evan's and she felt Eddie tighten his hands on her hips when he noticed too. Her waters had broken. This was a sure sign that labour was in full swing, now they just needed to wait for the contractions to get closer together and they would be on their way to the hospital.

"See, the baby was just waiting for Buck."

***

"Do you still feel sick?" Evan tilted his head forward to look down at (Y/n) when she wriggled around and her legs shifted on his lap.

He continued to glide his hand up and down her leg from her ankle up over her knee while his right hand propped up his head on the back of the sofa. He wasn't sure what time it was, he just knew it was late.

When the contractions were less than twenty minutes apart this afternoon, Evan stupidly thought this might go a bit quicker. But it didn't. Carla brought Chris home to them and he had tea with them before Carla took him back to her place ready for when the boys needed to take (Y/n) down to the hospital.

They couldn't go until the contractions were ten minutes apart or less and it was taking forever. Every time (Y/n) had a contraction, she would squeeze Eddie's thigh and he would keep count, but Evan was the one keeping check now because he was getting jittery and Eddie was asleep.

Evan squeezed the back of (Y/n)'s thigh when she hummed.

The three of them were laid on the sofa. Eddie had his feet propped up on the coffee table and (Y/n) laid over his lap and her legs were resting on Evan's thighs.

They had a bowl on the floor ready in case (Y/n) threw up, which she had done twice since this afternoon and although Eddie said that was normal, Evan didn't like it. He wanted this to go swiftly for (Y/n) so she didn't have to be in as much pain and he wanted to have their baby in his arms already.

Evan let his hand slide up over the shorts (Y/n) was wearing and he wormed his hand beneath her shirt to trace his fingers up and down her stomach. It was crazy to think that in just a few hours, he wouldn't be able to do this anymore. He would be able to hold his baby in his arms and see what they looked like.

They would finally see whether they had a girl or a boy, if they had blue eyes or brown and see how big they were and be able to hold them.

(Y/n) sank her teeth down into her lower lip but it didn't do anything to hide her groan. She turned her head and meshed her face into Eddie's thigh, clenching her hand around his knee when a contraction hit. Her knees pulled up near her stomach and she tensed up and tried to wait it out.

She could feel Evan's hand gliding up and down her stomach and she must have woken Eddie because his hand moved back to card through her hair like he had been doing before he fell asleep.

Her knees stayed up near her stomach and she let her tears soak into Eddie's jeans while he sat up straighter and leaned over her.

"I think we're almost ready."

"Can we go now?" (Y/n) lifted her head from Eddie's thigh and looked between them both. She had stopped keeping count of the contractions because whenever she thought they were getting closer, it seemed like they were getting further apart. She had settled on just waiting for the boys to tell her when they were finally able to go to the hospital.

A look passed between the boys before Evan nodded, they were just about ten minutes apart now. They could take (Y/n) down to the hospital and pray that this wouldn't take much longer.

"Yeah, baby, we can go now. Let's get you up." Evan slid out from beneath (Y/n)'s legs and moved to stand in front of her instead.

He held his hands out and carefully pulled her up while Eddie held her hips and gave her a gentle nudge.

***

"Why isn't anything happening?" (Y/n) hated the whining edge to her voice, but she was past the point of caring now. Tears were melting into her face and burning her eyes that were already sore and beyond tired.

Her hands clenched down around the rail on the end of the bed and she arched her lower back out so see if it would help relieve the tension, but it didn't. She shifted her weight from foot to foot until she felt Evan's hand on her lower back and his chest mould up against her side.

Tears continued to stream down her face as she turned to the right and let go of the bed so she could fist Evan's shirt in her hands instead. Her temple pressed forward into the middle of his chest and his arms bound tight around her waist as Eddie moved to stand behind her. She could feel Eddie's hand on her lower back as he leaned against the bed and crossed one leg over the other.

"Baby, something is happening. You're almost there now, I promise-"

"I'm not!" The words burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she sobbed. "I c-can't wait much longer… just let me push."

She didn't want to wait. She had been in labour for almost two days now and she was getting fed up. (Y/n) thought when they got to the hospital that she would have her baby within a couple of hours. But each time a midwife had come along to examine her, she hadn't been dilated enough. She was at eight centimetres now and if that hadn't changed soon, (Y/n) wasn't going to wait.

Damn the consequences, she would rather try and push already and demand her body work with her. This was taking too long. It was too hard. She was too tired. It had to hurry up now.

"Mi amor, as soon as you're ready, that will be it. Everything will be all over when you start pushing, I swear it won't take long then." Eddie pressed up behind her and cupped his hands over her hips.

He knew the process. He had been there when Chris was born and he had seen women give birth on the job. One (Y/n) was ready to push, that wouldn't take long. This was the longest part, within an hour of wanting to push she would have the baby and it would all be over and done with.

(Y/n) found herself nodding along, but she wasn't sure she agreed. If that was the case, why couldn't she just push already? Surely if she started pushing, her body would get the hint and reach ten centimetres a lot quicker than waiting around like this. Why couldn't she push and speed up the process that had taken far too long already?

It wasn't supposed to take this long. (Y/n) wanted to be one of those women who were in labour less than a day. This was dragging out on purpose and it wasn't fair.

"How are we doing in here?" Amanda, their midwife, poked her head around the door as she snapped on a pair of gloves and walked in when she knew she wasn't interrupting anything.

"Ready. I'm ready… please, please let me push now." (Y/n) turned her head so her cheek was pressed against Evan's chest so she could look over at Amanda. She could see the sympathy on the young woman's face and she smiled kindly. Every time Amanda had come in to check, she had been kind and caring and very sweet when she politely told (Y/n) she wasn't ready yet. (Y/n) wouldn't handle hearing that for a fourth time.

"Let's get you on the bed and take a look, sweetie." She motioned towards the bed and stood out the way. She knew she wasn't needed to assist (Y/n) when she had both her boys here with her.

A broken cry escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she pulled on Evan's shirt when another contraction hit. Her knees bent and she looked like she was about to fall down to the floor.

"Okay, shhh, it's alright." Eddie pressed his lips to the back of (Y/n)'s head and kept hold of her hips while Evan tightened his arms around her waist to hold her into his chest. If she went down on her knees they would never get her back up again. "Come on, up on the bed."

(Y/n) let them shuffle her round to the bed but she didn't like the feeling of being sat down. Standing up felt better.

It was a relief to have Evan sat on the bed with her and when she leaned forward, he moved behind her so she could lean up against his chest. His arm curved around her waist and his lips attached to her neck while Eddie stood beside them with his hand deadlocked in (Y/n)'s.

The three of them stayed content and silent as Amanda checked to see how dilated (Y/n) was this time. Eddie brought his free hand up to bite down on his thumb out of anxious habit, but when Amanda smiled and nodded, he could feel the relief pouring out of him.

"Let's just check baby, shall we?" Amanda leaned over and moved to press her hands to (Y/n)'s stomach. The baby had been constantly wriggling around since labour started but last time she checked, baby had been facing the right way with their head down.

"Can I push now?"

"You can start pushing on the next contraction… but baby has moved around. They're going to be breach, I'm afraid."

(Y/n) slumped her chin down onto her chest as her shoulders started to shake and she cried. Why was the baby doing this to her? First labour had taken so long to get in full swing and it had been two days to bring her to this point. And now their baby was the wrong way round. That complicated everything. That meant it would be harder for (Y/n) and something could go wrong.

"It's okay, you're almost there now mi amor. You'll both be fine." Eddie moved his free hand to the back of (Y/n)'s head as he leaned down to kiss her temple. He let her lean her head into his chest while Evan stayed curled over her back like a protective blanket.

"Big pushes (Y/n), you've waited long enough for this baby."

She had one hand curled around each of her boy's hands and (Y/n) kept her head tucked into Eddie's chest and her eyes stayed as tightly closed as she could manage. She could feel her knees shaking when she pulled them up and she tried to sit forward, but it felt like her stomach was being wrenched in half.

She pulled Evan's hand up until she could press it against her chest and she bit back the urge to be sick. She hadn't eaten anything since she went into labour and she had nothing left to throw up, no matter what her stomach was trying to tell her.

"Again… and we've got the legs. Take a breather, try to relax for a moment."

(Y/n) wanted to smile. She really did, but she was too torn up to smile when she didn't have any energy left and she wasn't even finished yet.

But she could feel Evan smiling against her shoulder and Eddie kept tangling his hands through her hair and brushing it back in a methodical way that made (Y/n) want to fall asleep. If only she could.

"Let's keep pushing then."

"You're almost done sweetheart," Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s neck and pecked her skin gently.

Tears tracked down (Y/n)'s face and she felt like she was on fire when she heard the midwife say that the arms were out. It hurt even worse when she felt the shoulders being born. She was almost there but she felt like she was out of energy now. Her last reserves were running on empty.

"I- I can't." She shook her head against Eddie and sucked her lip between her teeth. Couldn't she stop now? Couldn't it all be over and done with now?

"Yes you can. We've got you, you're so, so close now."

"(Y/n), you need to push now. We don't want baby waiting too long in case they try to breathe. Big pushes." Amanda's tone was gentle but her words were coaxing and stern. Being breach put the risk of the baby trying to breathe while their head wasn't quite born yet. They didn't want the baby to breathe and start to suffocate so they had to be quick.

Everything burned like it was on fire and her body started to shake like she was being electrocuted which made Evan and Eddie shake along with her.

Her stomach clenched and tightened when she finally felt that last push work and the weight shifted and pulled away from her abdomen.

"We've got you," Eddie murmured against her hair when her weight slumped forward into him and she almost folded over onto her legs. He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her front and he slowly eased her back into Evan.

They both watched the way her head lolled against Evan's shoulder and her eyes started to roam from left to right. She had blacked out. She couldn't see anything but darkness and white spots blinking far in front of her.

"That's our girl, you did so great." Evan kissed her neck and looped both arms around her waist while Eddie brushed her chin and tried to get her to take deep breaths. He could see her eyes coming back into focus as her chest heaved like her lungs were expanding so much they might just explode.

(Y/n) wanted to smile, but she didn't quite have the energy. Not until she looked down at Amanda and heard a sharp, piercing cry from the newborn in her arms.

"You've got a little girl. Which dad is going to cut the cord?"

A look passed between Evan and Eddie before Eddie nodded at Evan and pointed at him. "I got to do it with Chris, this is your turn." As much as Eddie would want to do it again, he knew it would mean a lot to Evan. Eddie had cut the cord when Chris was born, it was only fair that Evan got a turn.

(Y/n) reached out and coiled both her arms around Eddie's bicep when Evan slid out from behind her and Eddie took his place. He sat behind her, letting her lean into his chest while his arms cocooned around her and his lips pressed to the back of her head.

She felt Evan's fingers skim across her ankle and up the back of her leg before he focused on his task. It was hard for him to stop his hand from shaking when he took the scissors and cut the cord where Amanda had clamped it off.

"Here's your little girl,"

A grin broke out on (Y/n)'s tear-stained face and her arms moved up to curl shakily around her baby when the newborn was placed down carefully over her chest. She brushed her finger across her daughter's head, feeling the tiny wisps of dark hair that felt like cotton wool against her skin.

Eddie brushed his hand across the back of their daughter's head while he stayed curled around (Y/n). And Evan moved to sit back down next to (Y/n)'s thigh, staring at their little girl in wonder.

"Wasn't she worth the wait?" Eddie murmured quietly into (Y/n)'s ear. He could feel the tiredness washing away and he just knew that even if (Y/n) managed to get some sleep, neither he nor Evan were going to sleep yet. They would be staying awake through to the morning, watching over their little girl.

They all knew Evan would be ringing Bobby and Maddie soon to tell them they had a girl and Eddie would call Carla first thing in the morning so she could bring Chris down to see his sister.

Evan reached across and skimmed his fingers up and down (Y/n)'s arm while he looked down at the little girl in her arms. They could tell he was desperate to reach out and take hold of her, but he was trying not to. He was trying to be patient and hold back because (Y/n) had gone through all of that pain and torment, the hours of agony. She deserved to sit and cradle their daughter for however long she wanted.

As soon as she put her down, Evan would snatch her up, and then everyone would have to fight him to hold her.

"You took your time," (Y/n) kept her voice quiet and closed her eyes, letting the image of her daughter burn into her mind while she leaned her temple against Eddie's jaw.

"Don't worry, I'm sure next time will be a lot quicker." A grin broke out on Evan's face when Eddie nudged him in the thigh and raised a brow. It wouldn't do them any good to start winding (Y/n) up and teasing her, not after all she had just been through.

"You're already planning another? You wanna put me through all that again?"

"Ignore him." Eddie murmured into her hair while he rubbed his hand up and down her waist. Evan was only teasing. But they both knew what he was like. He loved the bones of Chris and he had been over the moon to know (Y/n) was pregnant. He wouldn't object to having more kids, it would be his dream plan to have at least four or five kids, if his partners agreed of course.

But as (Y/n) stared down at the little girl in her arms, she smiled fondly, because Eddie was right. Despite everything, she was worth the wait.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz x reader #imagine #911 imagine #eddie x buck #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #buck x eddie

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mitsies · 1 year

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thinking about high-school!gojo today.....

he’s top of his classes, a-list student, and everyone knows him. people across campus gossip about his latest romances and grades and all— he’s an open book. and a new york time’s best seller, apparently.

gojo is specifically notorious for his position as top student at your prestigious school. only the best from the best lineage, it seems. in graded discussions, he’s viciously tearing down others’ points. he disagrees with the teacher. makes jokes that make the whole class laugh. has been responsible for at least 3 faculty members’ quitting. all this, and he’s still failing art. sculpture class, to be exact.

it’s an elective both he and you have been forced into; you’re a lot happier about it than him, it seems. because he always complains. loudly. and he sucks at art, quite frankly.

it's plain to see that the boy has never even drawn a portrait in his life. he's got two right hands and he's left-handed, it looks like, that's how bad he is. and even worse is the fact that he's got no friends in this class; everyone's a stranger. which is probably why he resorts to bothering you.

you like to think you're a strong person, of mind and of being. but your resolve to being kind crumbles as soon as gojo opens his big fat mouth.

you see why people like him. he can be funny. he's good at lots of things (arts not included) and sometimes, only sometimes, does he have something valuable to say. but mostly, you find gojo satoru to be a nuisance.

working on your projects is made incredibly difficult when 6 feet of pure frustration is bitching right next to you. "this clay," he'd complain, "it's gotta be broken. it's not working."

you try to ignore him, you really do. him and his inane excuses, and empty commentary. and for the most part, he disregards you right back. he looks through you, sometimes. sometimes. that is, until the teacher pulls him aside a few weeks before the end of the school year and he comes back more stone-faced and scared than you've ever seen him. he's quiet for longer than you've known possible and you're surprised to find that you kind of miss hearing his voice.

he doesn't really say much, and class lets out, and you go on with your life like normal. but there's an itch in the back of your mind, and it sounds like his name over and over and you can't quite get it out of your head. not until the next day, when you see him again- 2nd period sculpture class, 9 o'clock in the morning.

and this time, he looks right at you.

"you're really good at this whole sculpture thing." he's making a statement, not asking a question. you blink and realise that this is the very first time he's spoken to you, directly. he was complimenting you in a way- on what? does this mean he's seen you? all this time you presumed he stared straight through, blue eyes burning holes through your skull. maybe, just maybe, he's been looking at you the whole time. you're not sure how to reply so you just nod, "i guess."

"i," he says the next words like he's choking on glass and you see his adam's apple bob (his skin is so pale; translucent. you think it'd be cold to the touch,) "need help."

you almost feel bad. he looks like a cat that just got soaked in water. pitiful. playing dumb, though you know exactly what he means, you tilt your head innocently. "help with what?"

he grimaces. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading like wildfire.

"this class."

"oh? what about it?"

he dramatically slumps against the desk, knocking over the boy in front of him's water bottle. he doesn't bother picking it up. "sculpting. art. everything."

"i thought you were good at everything, though."

that might've been too far, because he looks at you again. he really, really looks. and you think he sees you. because he smiles, "my reputation precedes me. i'm so famous, aren't i?"

"i guess you are," you concede, allowing an edge of amusement to lighten your tone. he is still looking at you. he does not break eye contact. it makes your stomach churn with something sickeningly alive, something abhorrently beautiful.

"then it should be your honour to help me out or something, yeah?"

it should be. it will be. you could let it be.

"i'm pretty busy. sorry."

he blinks at you. you turn away. why did you say no? you didn't want to. but then again, you'd prefer to be away from him and his life- lavish, elegant, mansions and stars and cameras and glamour- you have homework to do.

you think that, after this, gojo satoru will leave you be.

he does not.

in fact, you think it gets worse.

if he wasn't talking to you much at all before, it's all he does now. he sits in your seat before class starts, getting there before you, waiting for you. chats your ears off, too, when you try to get work done. and he always ends up bringing up that proposal again- to help tutor him in sculpture, or give him pointers, or whatever, you try to tune him out.

you wonder why he only asks you. there's plenty of much more talented, much more friendly students in your class. ones that'd say yes. but he only asks you. you think he knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in. that was what he was banking on, probably. all it took was two weeks worth of asking, talking non-stop, and basically borderline begging. and you folded.

..which, is how you find yourself in the art room, after-hours, sitting next to gojo satoru and a pottery wheel as he helplessly squishes the miserable and miserly beginnings of yet another deformed clay pot.

"you can do it," you encourage rather dryly. he shoots you a look. "great acting."

"sorry. i'm trying my best here."

his hands are covered in wet clay, so when he wipes his brow he uses his forearm. the crewneck he wears is pulled up and pale, pale skin glows a wintery shade. you tear your eyes away. "and i am too! but it isn't working!"

you frown. he really is bad at this- ignoring all your direct pointers and advice. you've told him what he needs to fix; be gentle, go slowly, be patient, patient, patient. all that has gone in one ear and out the other.

you really dread what you're about to do. but you want to help him save his grade in this class, because gojo satoru was not gojo satoru without his 4.0 gpa. so, bracing yourself, feeling a tight, tight knot in your stomach, you ghost your hands over his on the wheel and hold on, shadowing them. a guide.

his skin is cold, you were right. big hands, bigger than yours, they feel good and frigid beneath your touch; like they were made for you, sculpted to your touch. you feel his breathing stall before he starts rambling again.

his words move fast, but not faster than his heartbeat, which you feel in his wrist. you'd be dizzy with the proximity if you weren't so focused on making something. it's almost magic, how 2 pairs of hands come together to make something- a small pot, spinning on the wheel.

it's a little lopsided and wonky looking but it's far, far better than anything gojo's accomplished. he goes quiet. "wow," he says, so so hushed you almost don't catch it. you know he's not talking about the pot.

"i told you that you could do it."

his hands break away from the wheel, leaving the clay formation and pulling your hands away, too. they're in his, still, and covered in a think muddy-coloured sludge of slip. but he holds them.

"you have something on your face," you exhale after a beat of silence. because he does; a dash of clay, marking the expanse of skin on his cheek. just below his lip. he smiles and a dimple creases his pretty, pretty face.

"yeah? why don't you get it for me?"

you blink. "my hands are filthy. i'd make it worse."

"do you think i care?"

you're surprised your hands are steady, a sculptor's hands, as you wipe away the drying residue of slip. it crumbles and flakes off his cheek, but your thumb brushes his lip and you feel him freeze before grinning wider and pulling away. you miss his cold. you feel a bit too hot all over, now.

"it's all over your face now," you inform him, snapping your gaze away to hide your embarrassment. he doesn't look away. he looks at you, he looks at you, he looks at you. like he likes you, a little bit.

"we can deal with that after the lesson, yeah?"

you expect him to sound different than he does, when he says this. you expect his voice to be full of ego and confidence, like usual. boisterous, louder than life. but he's quieter. almost like he's shy. you turn back, and you see the way he watches you. like you're precious, like you're fleeting and rare and the most beautiful, beautiful piece of art he's ever seen.

"okay," you say, "okay. sure."

his grin is worth a million dollars and his boyish confidence returns after the lapse of shyness; "awesome!"

promptly after, he moves to go back to the clay pot. in his excitement, he squishes it into a lump again.

"awesome," you sign, resigned. but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. you like him too much for that.

#me chugging 2 energy drinks to get through my homework but ending up writing this instead #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mitzi's world!#gojo satoru #reader insert

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film-in-my-soul · 4 months

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Oblivious | 10,166 | Stevieschrodinger / @stevieschrodinger

Summary: Everyone knows that Steve and Bucky are a thing. Everyone, that is, except for Steve.

dark into the heat | 10,247 | Nonymos

Summary: Steve breaks everyone out of Azzano, then goes back for one last prisoner who might not be quite human. Everything is going to go just fine.

Circularity | 11,724 | dharmashark / @dharmasharks

Summary: Steve runs his underground cybernetics shop with two rules: 1. Don’t get involved with HydraCorp. 2. Don’t get personal with clients. But when a mysterious cyborg shows up at his front door, Steve decides that some rules are worth breaking—especially if you can take down a big bad mega corporation in the process. (And if said client just so happens to be unreasonably cute.)

Say it louder for the people in the back | 14,864 | redhook

Summary: Steve operates a glory hole. One of his regulars starts to get under his skin.

Please see below for more recommendations!

The Run and Go | 14,960 | lupus (khaleeseas) / @khaleeseas

Summary: When Bucky Barnes first meets Steve Rogers, Bucky's standing half-naked in their apartment complex's laundry room. It's 2 a.m. on a Friday night (or is it considered a Saturday morning?) and for once Bucky is way too sober for all of this. The next thing Bucky knows, Steve is everywhere. Being hot and sarcastic and nice and overall perfect and Bucky is kind of totally and completely screwed.

Caramel Macchiato | 15,450 | littleblackfox / @thelittleblackfox

Summary: "You ate my bees," Bucky says. Because his own tongue fucking hates him.

wipe the blood from your face and your hands | 15,735 | AustinB / @cornerficus

Summary: It’s weird. The whole fucking thing is weird. Steve’s sitting across from a vampire in a diner under harsh fluorescent lighting, and he still looks like a fucking GQ cover. Steve wonders if biting creates some sort of bond like it does on T.V. Maybe he should’ve asked that question before consenting to it. “Do you have some kind of telepathic connection with me now that you’ve drank my blood?” Bucky snorts into his coffee. Steve finds it oddly endearing.

imagine being loved by me | 20,247 | spacebuck / @spacebuck

Summary: Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all. Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

Paper Tree | 21,391 | Ellessey

Summary: Bucky just laughs and shoves another bite of egg in his mouth, giving Steve a shrug and a full-cheeked smile. He's so damn cute Steve wants to shout at him, but he can't seem to say any of the right things. "Shoulda got you a comb for Christmas," is what he comes up with instead. "What did you get me?" It's Steve's turn to shrug now, and if he looks more terrified than cheeky as he does so, he can only hope Bucky doesn't catch it before Steve hurries out the door.

Controlled Release | 21,836 | steebadore / @steebadore

Summary: Bucky's just having a little trouble...finishing. Completing the mission. He can squeeze the trigger but he can't make the shot is what he's saying. Which is why he's here, loitering outside a nice brownstone in Park Slope, trying to find the courage to knock on Captain Come Control dot com's door for his three o'clock appointment. You know, just normal Thursday things.

I Just Want to Love You in My Own Language | 22,436 | agetwellcard / @agetwellcard

Summary: Bucky Barnes is Captain America and uses terrible pickup lines. Steve Rogers is Captain America's nurse and is not impressed by the aforementioned terrible pickup lines.

During Business Hours: A Filthy Coffee Shop AU | 25,116 | samanthahirr / @samanthahirr

Summary: Unemployed artist Steve takes a job managing the worst coffee shop in Brooklyn, where the floors are greasy, the coffee beans have expired, the espresso machine’s been sabotaged, and the owners might be Russian Mafia. But the job comes with a few perks, like a generous paycheck, reasonable hours, and one super-hot customer whom Steve can’t resist having dirty, filthy, bad-idea sex with in the bathroom. Steve is pretty sure this job is going to kill him. But what a way to go....

One Caress | 26,160 | fuck_me_barnes / @fuck-me-barnes

Summary: Steve's rarely been touched in a way that didn't equate to some kind of hurt. The cold metal of a stethoscope against his frail chest or the sting of a needle drawing yet another blood sample, when he was a sickly child. The bone-shattering punches thrown by the neighborhood bullies on the playground, or by his own father at home, drunk and wild. His mother, weak and clutching at him as she grew more incoherent with the drugs as the cancer ate away at her insides. Touch was something he shied away from, something he told himself he just didn't want. Except...he did. He just didn't know how. Until he finds a flyer for a local "affection and intimacy services" program.

Season of all things | 26,466 | Claudia_flies / @claudia-flies

Summary: Steve really isn’t sure about sharing with an Alpha but he is starting to run out of options. There are only six Omega boarding houses in the city and Steve has been kicked out of four of them.

Trust Enough | 27,374 | geneticallydead

Summary: “Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“ “Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky. “Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone. So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself. Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired. Well fuck.

How To Embrace A Swamp Creature | 27,625 | littleblackfox / @thelittleblackfox

Summary: Steve washes his hands with the sliver of soap left by the sink, and takes a long hard look at himself in the mirror. The cut on his brow has scabbed over, and the bruises around his eye are blotchy red and sore to the touch. Stupid. His hands are no better, and he grips the edge of the sink to keep them from shaking. The scabs on his knuckles open up again, blood welling up starkly against his bone white fists. He holds them under the running faucet and watches the water circle the drain before pulling himself together. Just a little bit further, a little bit longer

Through The Open Window | 28,661 | 74days

Summary: Steve Rogers gave up on joining the army and worked for Stark Industries writing policy letters by hand. It's a dull job, right up until the office across the fire escape is given to an attractive stranger with one arm and no personal boundaries. Was going to be PWP but then there was like... a little plot? Steve and Bucky if Steve & Bucky never met as kids, I guess.

Agent Rogers | 31,348 | Stevieschrodinger / @stevieschrodinger

Summary: The Winter Soldier has been captured and is being rehabilitated. Steve Rogers really likes his job in the Shield archives.

The Daily Rogers | 32,154 | Nonymos

Summary: College AU. May contain exchange students, a Starbucks addiction, daddy issues, anger issues, closets and how to get out of them, the ever-ominous influence of social networks, various levels of betrayal, awfully poor life choices, but also, ultimately, real chunks of love.

miles to go before i sleep | 34,079 | obsessivereader / @yetanotherobsessivereader

Summary: Vietnam vet Bucky is just trying to get a hot meal, and maybe a job, in the small town of Hope, but the local law enforcement has other ideas. When their brutality triggers a flashback, Bucky snaps and escapes from their custody. Hunted, exhausted, injured, he finds shelter for the night next to a cabin in the middle of the woods. He means to be long gone before the cabin's occupant awakes. Things don't turn out quite the way he expected.

we are the things that we do for fun | 35,585 | Nonymos

Summary: Going to a professional Dom may be one of the weirdest things Bucky’s ever done. Especially since this skinny Steve Rogers guy doesn’t really look the part. But hey, they might just find a way to make this work.

The Devil's Acre | 40,636 | littleblackfox / @thelittleblackfox

Summary: “I’m sorry, you want me to what?” Steve sits back in his chair and tries not to glare at Hill across the conference table. “Track down a cryptid.” Agent Hill repeats, tossing a dossier onto the table. Steve has to stretch out an arm to reach across for it. “A cryptid,” Steve repeats doubtfully.

only one my arms will ever hold | 41,561 | wearing_tearing / @wearing-tearing

Summary: Like most stories about Bucky Barnes and his questionable and sometimes terrible life choices, this one starts because he decides not to listen to Natasha’s cryptic and mostly annoying advice. He decides not to listen, and he hunts down and kills a deer during that month’s full moon run with his pack and leaves its dead body on Steve Rogers’s front step. Steve, the man Bucky kind-of-possibly-maybe-absolutely is in love with. Bucky would try to smother himself after that one, but he’s learned that werewolves are hard to kill.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm | 51,637 | daisymondays

Summary: There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

Like the Tide | 53,950 | Deisderium

Summary: There's no SSR anymore. It's SHIELD, now. The worst part is, it's named after him in some way, Peggy's idea of a memorial to honor his sacrifice. He hates the thought of it, because it makes him feel like a hypocrite. His shield was only ever a prop, not something to base an agency around. But he's been mythologized differently. They give him files to read on this thing that Peggy and Howard built, and his story is a part of it—or anyway, the story that Peggy and Howard chose to tell about him. It shouldn't matter; they thought he was dead. They never thought he would see what they turned him into.

Catchweight | 56,418 | notlucy / @notlucy

Summary: For the most part, Steve’s life is fine. Sure, his job is tedious, he lives with his mother, and he can’t quite get over thinking he’s wasting his potential, but maybe that’s just part of being twenty-three. Then, one day—one totally dull day—the archetypal cliche of a tall, dark, and handsome beefcake walks up to his counter, bringing with him more questions than answers, and a duffel bag full of cash.

Through The Woods | 64,082 | VenusMonstrosa / @venusmonstrosa

Summary: There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale. Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

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