TAGS :: jesse pinkman x fem!reader, use of y/n, nsfw/smut, friends to fuck buddies, sub!jesse, dom-ish!reader, oral, porn w/ feelings yay, porn not much plot, begging, half beta read lol
WARN :: uuhh weed smoking, mdni18+ yada yada thank you
NOTE :: hi guys my bf broke up w me so im back in the building #letsgo. kinda hate this one but im a chud and u deserve to read something so im putting this out even tho its 3am. i also forget that ur supposed to be high when you smoke and get high (lmfao????????) so forgive me for inconsistency i prioritised the sex over the inebriation
Jesse never considered himself that ‘motivated’ of an individual. Everybody knows him for what he tends to be; lazy, avoidant, a little bit oblivious. His cocky attitude is a front for the… somewhat pathetic individual he aches to hide beneath.
Always on something, rarely onto it, one may say. But you never really saw what everyone else seemed to see in him. You were friends — good ones, at that, ever since high school. He’s always respected you. He even lit one up with you behind the trashy school gym, when your date ditched you at prom. He’s a ride or die. Hopefully a ride, your mind wanders, as you lounge beside him, now. His shitty, stiff couch makes the slippery thoughts in your head all the more jarring.
You can feel it; the tension. There’s something unusual in the air; Jesse was already high when you showed up to his place to smoke, and he’s somewhat antsy. You sit beside from one another on the couch, yet it feels more distant than usual… though, not intentionally.
Some shitty ‘70s action movie rerun plays on the television, his feet kicked up on the coffee table next to the beer he’s almost finished. His relaxed demeanor is more of a performance than usual, one arm ‘lazily’ slung up behind his head as the other picks at the design on his graphic tee.
You’re starting to feel it by now, but the weird vibe is setting you off. It’s like he can’t make eye contact, or can’t stop himself from doing so. Either way, it’s confusing.
“Yo,” he murmurs after a long moment of silence. “So… how’s, like- uh- life?” He makes up for awkwardness in that stupidly effective dorky charm that he mistakes for swagger, scratching his unshaven jaw while glancing over at you.
Exhaling the smoke from your shared joint, you could swear Jesse was staring at your lips when you met his eye. He just offers you that shitty grin when your gaze catches his once again.
“Yeah, y’know.” You sigh under your breath, laying back. “‘s fine. But, uh, it’s good to… unwind like this, again. With you”
He nods and chuckles like you’ve said something with a lot more weight behind it, than your words would’ve had, in any other context. “Yeah, man, same. I’ve seriously craved getting with you again, dude.” He rests his arm over the back of the couch, lightly poking you, still grinning unapologetically. You smirk softly back.
“Missed me?” You prompt.
He bites his lip. You find your own gaze on his lips. “Oh, for sure.”
You both faintly chuckle for a quiet moment, the movie continuing to murmur away into the background. There’s a quiet truth that neither of you will admit, in that small moment of banter. You glance once again at his mouth, watching the front teeth brush the lower lip soothingly. He’s nervous.
He catches you staring, the joint twiddling in your fingers, you barely even noticed.
“Yo, don’t let it go out! My generosity only goes so far, man.”
Snapped back to reality, you blink, hurriedly taking a hit from the blunt and trying not to laugh, and therefore choking as the smoke travels your throat. Jesse snickers.
With one last cough and a very deep breath, your hands brush, handing the joint back to him. His smile tells you just how sarcastic he was being.
“Sorry.” You mutter anyway. “I’ll, uh, pay you back... maybe.”
He scoffs, blowing smoke in your face, just to tease at your apology. “Pay me back, yeah? With what cash?”
He snickers and takes another drag at your expression, pointing and nodding with that shit-eating grin that you’d (never) get tired of, way too quickly.
“When I get paid next…” You trail off, smirking back, no real bite or anger fuelling your reply.
“Oh, right. When’s that, again?”
“Tch. Like… uh, Friday. Next… next week.” The high starts to come over you, finally; you find the joint in your hands once again, without having even noticed it. Concepts that seemed simple 5 minutes ago, now just a little harder to wrap your head around. The warmth in Jesse’s pupils tells you he’s starting to feel it, too.
“Mmm… I can’t wait that long.” The paper rolls between his fingers prettily, impressively. Tactile enough to tell you he does it enough that he’s good at it, by now.
“…uh…” A small, awkward chuckle passes your lips at his reply, trying to decipher his tone before he can get the next words out.
“But- I, uh, take… other forms of payment.” He sniffles at that, taking the final drag of the dying blunt, and then pressing it out in his ashtray gently. You blink, watching the ashes land against the ceramic as he avoids your eyes for too long.
Finally, offering any indication of life, you tilt your head. He’s trying to… flirt. “Other payment?”
He rolls his shoulders. A grin that’s 50% trying to appear nonchalant, and 50% failing miserably settles on his handsome face.
You don’t really think about it, as you hike your legs up onto the couch, beginning to crawl toward him. “Like… credit?”
Funny. That was funny. Jesse’s laugh is… somewhat mirthful, but mostly playing up his amusement for your approval. Fuck, he thought he was way more smooth when he was high. He can barely think as you loom over him. “N- nah. Uh, more like…”
“Like…?” The prompt offers no conclusion from Pinkman: you swear you can see his cheeks growing red as your arms bracket either side of his lap. Your breath brushes his lips, and he shakily exhales, eyes softening.
“Shit…”
You hum, sliding your thigh over his hard crotch and settling it on the opposite side, straddling your old friend as though you’d done it a thousand times before. It felt natural, because you may or may not have thought about it a million times before. Jesse swallows, shakily, looking up at you with those pretty, pearly blues. Wide. Needy. So needy.
“You, um… you…” Even in his flustered state, he’s smiling. His hands fumble on your hips before settling with a tight grip, heaven on his face.
“Can you use your words for me, Jesse?” You whisper in his ear, resisting the urge to nibble at the skin: you need to give him some room to think. For now.
Shakily, Jesse sighs, pulling you in a little closer, exhaling as your clothed pussy brushes over the tent in his lap. Your clit catches and you swallow, almost purring at the feeling of him, pressing up into you. “Is this… do you want this?” Finally, he finds his words. Though, barely.
All you can do is slowly grin. You lean lower, until your lips are hovering over his. “Do you, babe?” There’s a moment’s pause as he gazes at your lips, a shaky breath leaving him. Then, he nods. Nods hard, and hurried. Even wider, you smile. It’s a cute display, and you chuckle, leaning in to nibble his ear. No need to hold back on him, now. “Good. Good boy.”
“Fuck-“ his hips twitch, he bucks gently up against you, needy hands digging into your sides. You quietly gasp, stilling out. “Fuck, don’t… don’t call me that.”
Hmm. You raise your brows, gently leaning back to look at his expression; which, annoyingly, he hides. He struggles to catch your eye, looking down at his lap with a barely contained whimper. “No?” You take his jaw softly, guiding him to meet your eyes. “You don’t like it?”
His lips part. The denial falters on his tongue, and - how sweet - his lashes flutter, fingers flinching against your sides. “I- wh… you shouldn’t… have to call me that.” He swallows hard.
Oh. Your head tilts without your noticing. Without thinking, one hand comes to his shoulder, softly rubbing, the other hand remaining on his jaw to stroke the stubble. “Do you not like it, Jesse?”
He grits his teeth. “I- I’m the guy here, yo, you don’t need to… you— do you like it?”
“Jesse.” You whisper. “Do you wanna be my good boy?”
A soft, embarrassed silence. He nods. He shrinks a little as you grin.
“My sweetest boy? Just for me?”
Jesse bites his lip, his fingers figging at your shirt, then slowly brushing underneath. “…ah huh.”
“Obedient?”
The slight quiver in his lip, his trembling hands twitching at your sides only further explain the situation. He licks his lip, warm breath brushing your face as he gazes up into your eyes, silently begging for something. Once more, he nods.
“Good.”
You lean in, letting your lips just brush his, letting your teeth steal his lower lip tantalisingly. He almost whimpers, until he whispers your name as you drag his flesh with the tilt of your head, the most pathetic sound escaping his parted throat. He shudders, loving the pain of your teeth digging into his lip more than he should.
“Fuck.” Jesse mumbles, squeezing your hips and lightly arching into you. “Fuck, can you kiss- can I kiss you?”
The way he stammers is so cute. You tilt your head, letting your fingers ghost his jaw before taking a hold, keeping him still. You coo. “Do you want it that bad?”
“Uh huh.” He’s panting, pink; you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing him like this before. You’re not letting it go.
“Clearly not badly enough.”
“What? No, I-”
“I’m not hearing you beg.” You cut him off, nails digging into his skin, ever so slightly. He huffs. The sheer shame he projects does nothing to hide the real thrill you can see he’s taking from this.
“P- please.” He mutters, sheepish, nodding hesitantly. “Please, Y/N, can I just–”
You coo against his mouth, hovering there, before finally closing the distance and eliciting a wonderful sound from the man beneath you. He grinds up against you as his fingers dig into your shirt. You purr, licking into his mouth.
It’s cute, how he kisses you hungrily, sucking at your lips, a testament to the truth of his general experience… which may or may not be somewhat exaggerated. Look, he may be dreamy, but looks only get you so far.
You put a hand on his shoulder, pinning him back against the couch slightly, taking the lead.
“Breathe, baby.” Muttering, feeling him slow and then still as your lips hover, just beyond his reach, what with your hand pressing him into place. “Follow my lead.”
Trying again, you encourage him to slow down, letting your tongue glide over his, teasing. He whimpers into your mouth, succumbing to your control.
Eventually he starts to follow your lead, kissing you with less haste; but no less desperation. His need still bleeds from every pore, every pant as he slowly grinds, matching the rhythm of your tangled lips, the music your combined sounds make egging him on.
He mewls your name quietly as you slow down once again when he starts picking up the pace, huffing. Bratty. You scoff slightly, and let your teeth sink into his lower lip, making him gasp and groan, hands clasping hard, just above the curve of your ass.
“Fuck, Y/N-!” Jesse can only whisper, as his hips buck wildly up against you, the pleasure and pain overwhelming.
“You gonna behave?” Is all you whisper, teeth still hovering. The hesitation in him is evident; he’s not used to this vulnerability, this relinquishing of control. And it scares him, how much he loves it.
Shakily, he nods. “Y-yeah.” Even in his hazy high, he finds some semblance of balance and rubs your hip, silently begging you to come back and keep kissing him.
“Alright…” You whisper, hovering for a moment more. One last shaky whine is enough to convince you that he deserves the reward he craves, so badly he trembles. You hum softly into his mouth, this time meeting his passion, a hungry connection pulling you into him.
There’s an intense gravity to you, Jesse finds; in his inebriation, he comes apart so much more easily than he expected. He really thought he was more suave, even when high, but apparently not.
Any chance he gets to breathe, he ignores, muttering your praise when your lips disconnect. “Perfect”, “pretty”, “need you” he whispers, one hand squeezing your ass as the other wanders across your front desperately. You only smile into his kiss, letting your tongues press as he parts his lips easily once more for you.
You eventually pause, hovering over him as the two of you pant. Your hand tangles in his hair, offering a gentle tug, snapping him quickly out of his lusting daze.
“W- what?” He mutters quickly, licking his lips, eager to fix whatever pulled you away. He’s learning. It makes you smile, and an easy hand comes up to stroke his cheek.
“Do you want more, Jesse?” You mutter, letting your hips slowly roll on the bulge beneath you. His eyes flash, and he nods, swallowing. “Manners.” Quietly - not quite scolding, but not soft - you remind him.
“Please. Please, baby, I need you.” He mutters hurriedly, squeezing whatever flesh he’s got a hold of once more. “Please? Whatever you want, just more—“
He cuts himself off with a gasp as you grind down one last time, letting your hands trail low, lower, down his chest and to his lap. Gently, you palm the tent in his lap, barely holding back your smile as he sighs shakily, his own dopey smile only egging you on. You duck your head to hide your own high-induced smile.
Jesse sinks lower into the couch, arching his hips up into your touch. You croon softly, lowering your lips to his displayed neck. He whimpers as your warm mouth meets his needy flesh, jaw dropping in pleasure as you suckle at his skin while still palming his hard-on.
“Fuck.. yes.” He whispers in your ear, pressing gentle kisses. This is so much more than he could’ve thought to wish for, with you. Strangely, in his uncharacteristic vulnerability, he couldn’t be more happy to be where he is now.
“Mm, that’s it.” You coax more sweet sounds out of him, gently lowering off his lap and onto the floor of his living room. He barely notices the change, too lost in ecstasy, eyes shut and head tilted right back. He only notices when your hands start toying properly with his fly.
Flushing, his eyes open, and he looks hurriedly at you, between his knees on the floor. He gawks for a moment. “Y- yo, Y/N, you don’t- y-you—“
You cut off his nervous chuckling, with a sterner look. He swallows. “Is this what you want, Pinkman?”
The teasing lilt when you call him by his high school nickname, his last name, it sends a shiver up his spine. He bites his lip. Somehow, he feels guilty. He glances at his boner, looming over your face, obscuring your chin from this angle.
“You don’t… have to do this, man. I…”
“Jesse, are you okay with it?” Once more you have to cut him off. You watch his lashes flutter, his pretty blue eyes conflicted, his want and guilt at war. His teeth drag over his lower lip.
“Y-yeah.” He mutters after a moment’s worry.
“Are you sure?” You pause, his hesitation making you ponder.
“If you’re… okay with it.” He swallows, dragging the collar of his crummy band tshirt away from his neck.
Huh. Cute. You drag his fly down. “I wouldn’t offer if it’s not what I wanted.” You murmur, lowering the zip at an agonisingly slow pace. He shivers, nodding softly, letting your reassurance wash over him. Giving into the pleasure once again.
“Shit. Okay.” He rubs his jaw, putting his hands behind his head, breathing heavy as you pull his leaking cock free of his boxers and pants. He swallows thickly, licking his lower lips.
Slowly, you nuzzle against his cock, watching him twitch and whine under his breath. He lets his head fall back and eyes shut, relinquishing himself to your whim. You smile, licking your lips, the tip of your tongue brushing him.
God, every sound you manage to milk out of him is heaven. He clutches the couch with a weak sigh, his head lolling left and right at every new sensation you give.
He’s all pent up, not only from tonight, but… years of wanting. Not that he’s willing to admit it just yet.
“That.. that feels so good.” He whispers, running a hand through his hair and weakly moaning as you press faint kisses to his tip, letting him get familiar with the warmth of your mouth as every few kisses you let your lips wrap gently around him, whether the tip, the base, or anywhere in-between. “Fuuuck…”
You smile as you lavish his dick with attention, smirking to yourself as he bucks softly against your face, smudging precum on your cheek. Lost in his hazy pleasure, he barely notices.
After enough teasing, your lips gently take hold of the tip. He moans under his breath, fist clenching into a pillow to his left, right hand tangled in his light locks. More soft curses escape him as you slowly suck and take him, little by little, into your mouth. He can only whimper, too scared to disobey or displease you if he makes any sudden movement.
You’re not scared to take it slow; your teasing is tasteful. It’s sensual, there’s no denying. You can’t help but take it slow, especially in this state. The taste, the smell, it all leaves your mind, save for the feeling of his warmth on your tongue, and his little whimpers as you suck him in, a little deeper.
He whines your name and something warms in your chest, until eventually he hits the back of your throat. He’s so patient; how sweet. You smile slightly around his dick, gently bobbing, not stopping him as his hips twitch for you, as a treat… but it only lasts so long.
When you pull away, he curses, fumbling for your hair, your cheek. He doesn’t pull you back down, but he certainly keeps you close, shakily whimpering at the loss of your wet warmth. “Wh- what’re you doing?” He whispers, and fuck, the needy look in his eyes could keep you up for days.
“Don’t worry.” You whisper, pressing little fleeting kisses over his cock, making sure not to leave any one part neglected. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
He devolves back into his little whimpers and whines, his fingers shakily toying with some of your hair. You purr, licking a slow stripe up his cock, letting the tip of your tongue flick over the tip, making him shiver. He moans. Like, outright moans. God, he’s so sweet.
“Haah… hah… damn, damn.” He mumbles wearily, petting your head hurriedly, letting on far too easy his desperation for you to keep going, keep touching, keep pressing your lips to his hot, heavy and heedy skin.
“I’ve got you.” You whisper little comforting praises, whatever comes to mind in the haze of your combined high, enjoying how he squirms harder when your sweet tone hits him where it hurts the best. “So good f’me. So, so good, Jesse.”
Nodding hurriedly, his fingers curl into your hair, and he presses you down against his cock slightly, the tip brushing past your nose, catching you off guard. Your breaths hitch in unison, and he bites down on his lip, a guilty look washing over his flushed face.
“Sorry– sorry, I’m sorry,” He whispers quickly, but he doesn’t let go. The way his teeth drag on his lower lip drives you mad… maybe just this once, you’ll let him be bad. You shake your head, before cautiously pressing your nose back against his cock softly.
“You’re okay… you can do what you need.” You offer under your breath, slowly stroking his thigh, over his jeans. “But don’t be rough.”
The last little addition seems to add a flare of focus into his pretty blue eyes, and he hesitantly nods. He mumbles something about trying, but not long before he’s gently grinding your face on his dick, panting under his breath. The display is vulgar, it’s pathetic, his neediness is obscene in nature; but it’s so hot. Hotter, too, from the state you’re both in, completely broken down to baser instincts.
When he moans, you do, too, out of pure pleasure at the sound itself. You let your lips hitch on the tip again as he rolls his head right back when your lips are around him again, carefully pinning them back to shield him from your teeth.
He takes it slow, as he cautiously fucks your mouth, only the tip for a moment - then, just like you’d shown him before, he lets you take a little more of him, slowly. Shyly, you notice. He doesn’t stop, though, not until your throat is comfortably stuffed of him. He stares down at the sight for a second, and you feel a little sheepish at the angle.
Yet, he brushes any hair lingering in your eyes, a shaky little sound escaping him as your eyes lock. He weakly smiles. “You… feel so much better than I imagined.” He mumbles, starting to very gently move your head. You raise a brow.
“Mmmrm?” You manage to reply (with a mouthful of cock, obviously). He chuckles and shudders at the vibration.
“N-not that I imagined you weren’t good… it’s just… I never could’ve dreamt up t- the real thing.” He stumbles, shockingly eloquent in this state. He sheepishly smiles and runs a hand through his hair, shy from how vulnerable he’s being while you’re literally deep-throating him. Either way, it’s not stopping him. He continues to gently bob your head. “You’re… incredible… ah.”
You hum softly on his dick again, making him groan under his breath, starting to move you a little faster. He shudders once more, biting his lip and rolling his head back.
He can’t help but talk to you, there’s something… safe. He’s safe, in your presence. Safe as he basks in your warmth. You don’t even need to reply as he rattles on, the pleasure simply seems to fuck with his head enough to spur him on. “Is… is it fucked of me? To’ve jerked off to you?”
His words are breathless. His hand continues to softly guide you, but he very, very much appreciates how you come away to simply follow his lead, and work him yourself.
“Because I have,” He whispers in between heady pants. “Ever since high school. N-not when I was… I dunno… ah…” Trailing off, he hazily stares up at the ceiling. “Dating other chicks, or… whatever.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Neither of you will know by tomorrow. Maybe that’s the beauty of it. In your altered minds, language is broken down to it’s barest. Sex is enough, the pure, rawest feelings that you gift to one another are enough to communicate what your heart knows your head can’t.
He eggs you on, his palm just ever so gently pressing on the back of your head, encouraging you to go back down on him a little faster every time, his panting growing faster, harder, needier by the second. The sloppy sounds of your gift to him is drowned out by the prettiest noises he makes, the whimpers and gasps that let you know you’re doing the right thing.
“Oh, oh, ah, fuck– Y/N,” He mutters quickly, hand suddenly tangling in your hair. He moans again. “Please. Please, please, please please–” The words blur into one as he softly begs under his breath, and you know what’s coming.
You focus, now, going a little faster, and taking him slightly deeper as you breathe through your nose purposefully. He shudders and gasps.
“Fuck, I’m gonna- I’m–!” He almost squeaks the words out, before hot, sticky fluid fills your mouth. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of it. Of course, he was coming, but so soon?
You pull off his twitching member and smirk a little, wiping him off your lips with the back of your hand, grinning ever so slightly. “Care to warn me a little earlier next time?” You chuckle, voice a little husky from the throat-fucking.
He swallows, lashes batting bashfully. He guiltily rubs over his face and neck as you do a rather fair job at swallowing his seed. “Sorry.”
You can only smile. “Don’t be.” You rub his thigh a little more, before crawling back up onto the couch, legs cramping from sitting on your knees for a while. He smiles, still shy, somehow, hesitantly wrapping an arm around you as you lean into his shoulder, awkwardly stuffing himself back into his briefs.
“Y- you, uh… thanks. That was…”
You look up at him as he speaks, and as he looks down at you, you’ve never seen his eyes shine with such raw honesty. You’re smug smile softens into something much more tender, without your noticing.
“That was amazing, dude.” He breathes, his hand finding your hair again, and returning to softly playing with it. You smile, and lay comfortably against him, no space between you.
“Just return the favour sometime.” You tease quietly.
“Gladly.” He chuckles, leaning his head on top of yours in return. You swear, he’s smelling your hair, and you can feel his lashes fluttering on top of your head, his eyes closing in the comfort of this new, sweet embrace. And you find that there’s something rather… safe, in this.
TAGS :: jesse pinkman x fem!reader, use of y/n, nsfw/smut, friends to fuck buddies, sub!jesse, dom-ish!reader, oral, porn w/ feelings yay, porn not much plot, begging, half beta read lol
WARN :: uuhh weed smoking, mdni18+ yada yada thank you
NOTE :: hi guys my bf broke up w me so im back in the building #letsgo. kinda hate this one but im a chud and u deserve to read something so im putting this out even tho its 3am. i also forget that ur supposed to be high when you smoke and get high (lmfao????????) so forgive me for inconsistency i prioritised the sex over the inebriation
Jesse never considered himself that ‘motivated’ of an individual. Everybody knows him for what he tends to be; lazy, avoidant, a little bit oblivious. His cocky attitude is a front for the… somewhat pathetic individual he aches to hide beneath.
Always on something, rarely onto it, one may say. But you never really saw what everyone else seemed to see in him. You were friends — good ones, at that, ever since high school. He’s always respected you. He even lit one up with you behind the trashy school gym, when your date ditched you at prom. He’s a ride or die. Hopefully a ride, your mind wanders, as you lounge beside him, now. His shitty, stiff couch makes the slippery thoughts in your head all the more jarring.
You can feel it; the tension. There’s something unusual in the air; Jesse was already high when you showed up to his place to smoke, and he’s somewhat antsy. You sit beside from one another on the couch, yet it feels more distant than usual… though, not intentionally.
Some shitty ‘70s action movie rerun plays on the television, his feet kicked up on the coffee table next to the beer he’s almost finished. His relaxed demeanor is more of a performance than usual, one arm ‘lazily’ slung up behind his head as the other picks at the design on his graphic tee.
You’re starting to feel it by now, but the weird vibe is setting you off. It’s like he can’t make eye contact, or can’t stop himself from doing so. Either way, it’s confusing.
“Yo,” he murmurs after a long moment of silence. “So… how’s, like- uh- life?” He makes up for awkwardness in that stupidly effective dorky charm that he mistakes for swagger, scratching his unshaven jaw while glancing over at you.
Exhaling the smoke from your shared joint, you could swear Jesse was staring at your lips when you met his eye. He just offers you that shitty grin when your gaze catches his once again.
“Yeah, y’know.” You sigh under your breath, laying back. “‘s fine. But, uh, it’s good to… unwind like this, again. With you”
He nods and chuckles like you’ve said something with a lot more weight behind it, than your words would’ve had, in any other context. “Yeah, man, same. I’ve seriously craved getting with you again, dude.” He rests his arm over the back of the couch, lightly poking you, still grinning unapologetically. You smirk softly back.
“Missed me?” You prompt.
He bites his lip. You find your own gaze on his lips. “Oh, for sure.”
You both faintly chuckle for a quiet moment, the movie continuing to murmur away into the background. There’s a quiet truth that neither of you will admit, in that small moment of banter. You glance once again at his mouth, watching the front teeth brush the lower lip soothingly. He’s nervous.
He catches you staring, the joint twiddling in your fingers, you barely even noticed.
“Yo, don’t let it go out! My generosity only goes so far, man.”
Snapped back to reality, you blink, hurriedly taking a hit from the blunt and trying not to laugh, and therefore choking as the smoke travels your throat. Jesse snickers.
With one last cough and a very deep breath, your hands brush, handing the joint back to him. His smile tells you just how sarcastic he was being.
“Sorry.” You mutter anyway. “I’ll, uh, pay you back... maybe.”
He scoffs, blowing smoke in your face, just to tease at your apology. “Pay me back, yeah? With what cash?”
He snickers and takes another drag at your expression, pointing and nodding with that shit-eating grin that you’d (never) get tired of, way too quickly.
“When I get paid next…” You trail off, smirking back, no real bite or anger fuelling your reply.
“Oh, right. When’s that, again?”
“Tch. Like… uh, Friday. Next… next week.” The high starts to come over you, finally; you find the joint in your hands once again, without having even noticed it. Concepts that seemed simple 5 minutes ago, now just a little harder to wrap your head around. The warmth in Jesse’s pupils tells you he’s starting to feel it, too.
“Mmm… I can’t wait that long.” The paper rolls between his fingers prettily, impressively. Tactile enough to tell you he does it enough that he’s good at it, by now.
“…uh…” A small, awkward chuckle passes your lips at his reply, trying to decipher his tone before he can get the next words out.
“But- I, uh, take… other forms of payment.” He sniffles at that, taking the final drag of the dying blunt, and then pressing it out in his ashtray gently. You blink, watching the ashes land against the ceramic as he avoids your eyes for too long.
Finally, offering any indication of life, you tilt your head. He’s trying to… flirt. “Other payment?”
He rolls his shoulders. A grin that’s 50% trying to appear nonchalant, and 50% failing miserably settles on his handsome face.
You don’t really think about it, as you hike your legs up onto the couch, beginning to crawl toward him. “Like… credit?”
Funny. That was funny. Jesse’s laugh is… somewhat mirthful, but mostly playing up his amusement for your approval. Fuck, he thought he was way more smooth when he was high. He can barely think as you loom over him. “N- nah. Uh, more like…”
“Like…?” The prompt offers no conclusion from Pinkman: you swear you can see his cheeks growing red as your arms bracket either side of his lap. Your breath brushes his lips, and he shakily exhales, eyes softening.
“Shit…”
You hum, sliding your thigh over his hard crotch and settling it on the opposite side, straddling your old friend as though you’d done it a thousand times before. It felt natural, because you may or may not have thought about it a million times before. Jesse swallows, shakily, looking up at you with those pretty, pearly blues. Wide. Needy. So needy.
“You, um… you…” Even in his flustered state, he’s smiling. His hands fumble on your hips before settling with a tight grip, heaven on his face.
“Can you use your words for me, Jesse?” You whisper in his ear, resisting the urge to nibble at the skin: you need to give him some room to think. For now.
Shakily, Jesse sighs, pulling you in a little closer, exhaling as your clothed pussy brushes over the tent in his lap. Your clit catches and you swallow, almost purring at the feeling of him, pressing up into you. “Is this… do you want this?” Finally, he finds his words. Though, barely.
All you can do is slowly grin. You lean lower, until your lips are hovering over his. “Do you, babe?” There’s a moment’s pause as he gazes at your lips, a shaky breath leaving him. Then, he nods. Nods hard, and hurried. Even wider, you smile. It’s a cute display, and you chuckle, leaning in to nibble his ear. No need to hold back on him, now. “Good. Good boy.”
“Fuck-“ his hips twitch, he bucks gently up against you, needy hands digging into your sides. You quietly gasp, stilling out. “Fuck, don’t… don’t call me that.”
Hmm. You raise your brows, gently leaning back to look at his expression; which, annoyingly, he hides. He struggles to catch your eye, looking down at his lap with a barely contained whimper. “No?” You take his jaw softly, guiding him to meet your eyes. “You don’t like it?”
His lips part. The denial falters on his tongue, and - how sweet - his lashes flutter, fingers flinching against your sides. “I- wh… you shouldn’t… have to call me that.” He swallows hard.
Oh. Your head tilts without your noticing. Without thinking, one hand comes to his shoulder, softly rubbing, the other hand remaining on his jaw to stroke the stubble. “Do you not like it, Jesse?”
He grits his teeth. “I- I’m the guy here, yo, you don’t need to… you— do you like it?”
“Jesse.” You whisper. “Do you wanna be my good boy?”
A soft, embarrassed silence. He nods. He shrinks a little as you grin.
“My sweetest boy? Just for me?”
Jesse bites his lip, his fingers figging at your shirt, then slowly brushing underneath. “…ah huh.”
“Obedient?”
The slight quiver in his lip, his trembling hands twitching at your sides only further explain the situation. He licks his lip, warm breath brushing your face as he gazes up into your eyes, silently begging for something. Once more, he nods.
“Good.”
You lean in, letting your lips just brush his, letting your teeth steal his lower lip tantalisingly. He almost whimpers, until he whispers your name as you drag his flesh with the tilt of your head, the most pathetic sound escaping his parted throat. He shudders, loving the pain of your teeth digging into his lip more than he should.
“Fuck.” Jesse mumbles, squeezing your hips and lightly arching into you. “Fuck, can you kiss- can I kiss you?”
The way he stammers is so cute. You tilt your head, letting your fingers ghost his jaw before taking a hold, keeping him still. You coo. “Do you want it that bad?”
“Uh huh.” He’s panting, pink; you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing him like this before. You’re not letting it go.
“Clearly not badly enough.”
“What? No, I-”
“I’m not hearing you beg.” You cut him off, nails digging into his skin, ever so slightly. He huffs. The sheer shame he projects does nothing to hide the real thrill you can see he’s taking from this.
“P- please.” He mutters, sheepish, nodding hesitantly. “Please, Y/N, can I just–”
You coo against his mouth, hovering there, before finally closing the distance and eliciting a wonderful sound from the man beneath you. He grinds up against you as his fingers dig into your shirt. You purr, licking into his mouth.
It’s cute, how he kisses you hungrily, sucking at your lips, a testament to the truth of his general experience… which may or may not be somewhat exaggerated. Look, he may be dreamy, but looks only get you so far.
You put a hand on his shoulder, pinning him back against the couch slightly, taking the lead.
“Breathe, baby.” Muttering, feeling him slow and then still as your lips hover, just beyond his reach, what with your hand pressing him into place. “Follow my lead.”
Trying again, you encourage him to slow down, letting your tongue glide over his, teasing. He whimpers into your mouth, succumbing to your control.
Eventually he starts to follow your lead, kissing you with less haste; but no less desperation. His need still bleeds from every pore, every pant as he slowly grinds, matching the rhythm of your tangled lips, the music your combined sounds make egging him on.
He mewls your name quietly as you slow down once again when he starts picking up the pace, huffing. Bratty. You scoff slightly, and let your teeth sink into his lower lip, making him gasp and groan, hands clasping hard, just above the curve of your ass.
“Fuck, Y/N-!” Jesse can only whisper, as his hips buck wildly up against you, the pleasure and pain overwhelming.
“You gonna behave?” Is all you whisper, teeth still hovering. The hesitation in him is evident; he’s not used to this vulnerability, this relinquishing of control. And it scares him, how much he loves it.
Shakily, he nods. “Y-yeah.” Even in his hazy high, he finds some semblance of balance and rubs your hip, silently begging you to come back and keep kissing him.
“Alright…” You whisper, hovering for a moment more. One last shaky whine is enough to convince you that he deserves the reward he craves, so badly he trembles. You hum softly into his mouth, this time meeting his passion, a hungry connection pulling you into him.
There’s an intense gravity to you, Jesse finds; in his inebriation, he comes apart so much more easily than he expected. He really thought he was more suave, even when high, but apparently not.
Any chance he gets to breathe, he ignores, muttering your praise when your lips disconnect. “Perfect”, “pretty”, “need you” he whispers, one hand squeezing your ass as the other wanders across your front desperately. You only smile into his kiss, letting your tongues press as he parts his lips easily once more for you.
You eventually pause, hovering over him as the two of you pant. Your hand tangles in his hair, offering a gentle tug, snapping him quickly out of his lusting daze.
“W- what?” He mutters quickly, licking his lips, eager to fix whatever pulled you away. He’s learning. It makes you smile, and an easy hand comes up to stroke his cheek.
“Do you want more, Jesse?” You mutter, letting your hips slowly roll on the bulge beneath you. His eyes flash, and he nods, swallowing. “Manners.” Quietly - not quite scolding, but not soft - you remind him.
“Please. Please, baby, I need you.” He mutters hurriedly, squeezing whatever flesh he’s got a hold of once more. “Please? Whatever you want, just more—“
He cuts himself off with a gasp as you grind down one last time, letting your hands trail low, lower, down his chest and to his lap. Gently, you palm the tent in his lap, barely holding back your smile as he sighs shakily, his own dopey smile only egging you on. You duck your head to hide your own high-induced smile.
Jesse sinks lower into the couch, arching his hips up into your touch. You croon softly, lowering your lips to his displayed neck. He whimpers as your warm mouth meets his needy flesh, jaw dropping in pleasure as you suckle at his skin while still palming his hard-on.
“Fuck.. yes.” He whispers in your ear, pressing gentle kisses. This is so much more than he could’ve thought to wish for, with you. Strangely, in his uncharacteristic vulnerability, he couldn’t be more happy to be where he is now.
“Mm, that’s it.” You coax more sweet sounds out of him, gently lowering off his lap and onto the floor of his living room. He barely notices the change, too lost in ecstasy, eyes shut and head tilted right back. He only notices when your hands start toying properly with his fly.
Flushing, his eyes open, and he looks hurriedly at you, between his knees on the floor. He gawks for a moment. “Y- yo, Y/N, you don’t- y-you—“
You cut off his nervous chuckling, with a sterner look. He swallows. “Is this what you want, Pinkman?”
The teasing lilt when you call him by his high school nickname, his last name, it sends a shiver up his spine. He bites his lip. Somehow, he feels guilty. He glances at his boner, looming over your face, obscuring your chin from this angle.
“You don’t… have to do this, man. I…”
“Jesse, are you okay with it?” Once more you have to cut him off. You watch his lashes flutter, his pretty blue eyes conflicted, his want and guilt at war. His teeth drag over his lower lip.
“Y-yeah.” He mutters after a moment’s worry.
“Are you sure?” You pause, his hesitation making you ponder.
“If you’re… okay with it.” He swallows, dragging the collar of his crummy band tshirt away from his neck.
Huh. Cute. You drag his fly down. “I wouldn’t offer if it’s not what I wanted.” You murmur, lowering the zip at an agonisingly slow pace. He shivers, nodding softly, letting your reassurance wash over him. Giving into the pleasure once again.
“Shit. Okay.” He rubs his jaw, putting his hands behind his head, breathing heavy as you pull his leaking cock free of his boxers and pants. He swallows thickly, licking his lower lips.
Slowly, you nuzzle against his cock, watching him twitch and whine under his breath. He lets his head fall back and eyes shut, relinquishing himself to your whim. You smile, licking your lips, the tip of your tongue brushing him.
God, every sound you manage to milk out of him is heaven. He clutches the couch with a weak sigh, his head lolling left and right at every new sensation you give.
He’s all pent up, not only from tonight, but… years of wanting. Not that he’s willing to admit it just yet.
“That.. that feels so good.” He whispers, running a hand through his hair and weakly moaning as you press faint kisses to his tip, letting him get familiar with the warmth of your mouth as every few kisses you let your lips wrap gently around him, whether the tip, the base, or anywhere in-between. “Fuuuck…”
You smile as you lavish his dick with attention, smirking to yourself as he bucks softly against your face, smudging precum on your cheek. Lost in his hazy pleasure, he barely notices.
After enough teasing, your lips gently take hold of the tip. He moans under his breath, fist clenching into a pillow to his left, right hand tangled in his light locks. More soft curses escape him as you slowly suck and take him, little by little, into your mouth. He can only whimper, too scared to disobey or displease you if he makes any sudden movement.
You’re not scared to take it slow; your teasing is tasteful. It’s sensual, there’s no denying. You can’t help but take it slow, especially in this state. The taste, the smell, it all leaves your mind, save for the feeling of his warmth on your tongue, and his little whimpers as you suck him in, a little deeper.
He whines your name and something warms in your chest, until eventually he hits the back of your throat. He’s so patient; how sweet. You smile slightly around his dick, gently bobbing, not stopping him as his hips twitch for you, as a treat… but it only lasts so long.
When you pull away, he curses, fumbling for your hair, your cheek. He doesn’t pull you back down, but he certainly keeps you close, shakily whimpering at the loss of your wet warmth. “Wh- what’re you doing?” He whispers, and fuck, the needy look in his eyes could keep you up for days.
“Don’t worry.” You whisper, pressing little fleeting kisses over his cock, making sure not to leave any one part neglected. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
He devolves back into his little whimpers and whines, his fingers shakily toying with some of your hair. You purr, licking a slow stripe up his cock, letting the tip of your tongue flick over the tip, making him shiver. He moans. Like, outright moans. God, he’s so sweet.
“Haah… hah… damn, damn.” He mumbles wearily, petting your head hurriedly, letting on far too easy his desperation for you to keep going, keep touching, keep pressing your lips to his hot, heavy and heedy skin.
“I’ve got you.” You whisper little comforting praises, whatever comes to mind in the haze of your combined high, enjoying how he squirms harder when your sweet tone hits him where it hurts the best. “So good f’me. So, so good, Jesse.”
Nodding hurriedly, his fingers curl into your hair, and he presses you down against his cock slightly, the tip brushing past your nose, catching you off guard. Your breaths hitch in unison, and he bites down on his lip, a guilty look washing over his flushed face.
“Sorry– sorry, I’m sorry,” He whispers quickly, but he doesn’t let go. The way his teeth drag on his lower lip drives you mad… maybe just this once, you’ll let him be bad. You shake your head, before cautiously pressing your nose back against his cock softly.
“You’re okay… you can do what you need.” You offer under your breath, slowly stroking his thigh, over his jeans. “But don’t be rough.”
The last little addition seems to add a flare of focus into his pretty blue eyes, and he hesitantly nods. He mumbles something about trying, but not long before he’s gently grinding your face on his dick, panting under his breath. The display is vulgar, it’s pathetic, his neediness is obscene in nature; but it’s so hot. Hotter, too, from the state you’re both in, completely broken down to baser instincts.
When he moans, you do, too, out of pure pleasure at the sound itself. You let your lips hitch on the tip again as he rolls his head right back when your lips are around him again, carefully pinning them back to shield him from your teeth.
He takes it slow, as he cautiously fucks your mouth, only the tip for a moment - then, just like you’d shown him before, he lets you take a little more of him, slowly. Shyly, you notice. He doesn’t stop, though, not until your throat is comfortably stuffed of him. He stares down at the sight for a second, and you feel a little sheepish at the angle.
Yet, he brushes any hair lingering in your eyes, a shaky little sound escaping him as your eyes lock. He weakly smiles. “You… feel so much better than I imagined.” He mumbles, starting to very gently move your head. You raise a brow.
“Mmmrm?” You manage to reply (with a mouthful of cock, obviously). He chuckles and shudders at the vibration.
“N-not that I imagined you weren’t good… it’s just… I never could’ve dreamt up t- the real thing.” He stumbles, shockingly eloquent in this state. He sheepishly smiles and runs a hand through his hair, shy from how vulnerable he’s being while you’re literally deep-throating him. Either way, it’s not stopping him. He continues to gently bob your head. “You’re… incredible… ah.”
You hum softly on his dick again, making him groan under his breath, starting to move you a little faster. He shudders once more, biting his lip and rolling his head back.
He can’t help but talk to you, there’s something… safe. He’s safe, in your presence. Safe as he basks in your warmth. You don’t even need to reply as he rattles on, the pleasure simply seems to fuck with his head enough to spur him on. “Is… is it fucked of me? To’ve jerked off to you?”
His words are breathless. His hand continues to softly guide you, but he very, very much appreciates how you come away to simply follow his lead, and work him yourself.
“Because I have,” He whispers in between heady pants. “Ever since high school. N-not when I was… I dunno… ah…” Trailing off, he hazily stares up at the ceiling. “Dating other chicks, or… whatever.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Neither of you will know by tomorrow. Maybe that’s the beauty of it. In your altered minds, language is broken down to it’s barest. Sex is enough, the pure, rawest feelings that you gift to one another are enough to communicate what your heart knows your head can’t.
He eggs you on, his palm just ever so gently pressing on the back of your head, encouraging you to go back down on him a little faster every time, his panting growing faster, harder, needier by the second. The sloppy sounds of your gift to him is drowned out by the prettiest noises he makes, the whimpers and gasps that let you know you’re doing the right thing.
“Oh, oh, ah, fuck– Y/N,” He mutters quickly, hand suddenly tangling in your hair. He moans again. “Please. Please, please, please please–” The words blur into one as he softly begs under his breath, and you know what’s coming.
You focus, now, going a little faster, and taking him slightly deeper as you breathe through your nose purposefully. He shudders and gasps.
“Fuck, I’m gonna- I’m–!” He almost squeaks the words out, before hot, sticky fluid fills your mouth. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of it. Of course, he was coming, but so soon?
You pull off his twitching member and smirk a little, wiping him off your lips with the back of your hand, grinning ever so slightly. “Care to warn me a little earlier next time?” You chuckle, voice a little husky from the throat-fucking.
He swallows, lashes batting bashfully. He guiltily rubs over his face and neck as you do a rather fair job at swallowing his seed. “Sorry.”
You can only smile. “Don’t be.” You rub his thigh a little more, before crawling back up onto the couch, legs cramping from sitting on your knees for a while. He smiles, still shy, somehow, hesitantly wrapping an arm around you as you lean into his shoulder, awkwardly stuffing himself back into his briefs.
“Y- you, uh… thanks. That was…”
You look up at him as he speaks, and as he looks down at you, you’ve never seen his eyes shine with such raw honesty. You’re smug smile softens into something much more tender, without your noticing.
“That was amazing, dude.” He breathes, his hand finding your hair again, and returning to softly playing with it. You smile, and lay comfortably against him, no space between you.
“Just return the favour sometime.” You tease quietly.
“Gladly.” He chuckles, leaning his head on top of yours in return. You swear, he’s smelling your hair, and you can feel his lashes fluttering on top of your head, his eyes closing in the comfort of this new, sweet embrace. And you find that there’s something rather… safe, in this.
TAGS :: nacho varga x gn!reader, no use of y/n, nsfw/smut, dom!nacho that devolves into subby lol, top!nacho for my m!readers, porn w/o plot tbh, porn w/ feelings, body worship, praise kink, not beta read, sigh i miss my bcs era
WARN :: nsfw/smut, mdni18+ 🙃, ignore the mistakes mwah ty
NOTE :: meow i love nacho
my only language is eng, so sorry if any esp words are corny/wrong/etc
its lowkey been 2 yrs since i finished bcs and i need to rewatch, so if nacho is ooc or something im sorry…!!!
if my gn!reader leans toward too fem, pls give me some feedback on how i can improve. and be nice about it ty
this might be ass sorry.. ik the quality dips in and out 😵💫 pls forgive me school is kicking my ass rn, i just wrote this for me so Dx
The heat of the New Mexico sun was no privy struggle for those not used to it. The desert stretched on for miles, the sky just as infinite. He knew it well, though, better than most.
Nacho’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the outer shell of his door, the Javelin rumbling down dirt paths and hitching up dust at every turn. Even with the windows down, the wind brushing his skin, he was still feeling the brush of sweat on his brow.
You sat prettily beside him, quiet. Not quite as quiet as him, of course, as he’s likely the most quiet a person can truly get. Always off in his own head, sneaking glances that he prays you won’t catch at your profile, while you’re busy staring out into the harsh, sun-kissed horizon.
Weirdly, it’s too quiet for Nacho, maybe for the first time in a very long time.
You tend to fill the silences he struggles to, tend to offer him those lingering glances, too. He finds himself missing them, more than he’d care to admit, in these moments of absence.
Your relationship isn’t all that professional, blurring the lines between close coworkers and friends with benefits, if you ask him. He’s not a big feelings guy - maybe he’ll feel you up when he’s tipsy enough instead, maybe he lets you touch him, stick closer to him than anyone else before.
Fuck, why is he freaking out? You’re just quiet. Maybe you’re not having a good day. Maybe you’re mad at him? Or… something like that? Shit. He’s no good at this, no good at all. His fingers tap on the steering wheel, annoyance spiking at his own neediness, the strange desperation for your approval that he’s usually better at ignoring.
“Er,” his gentle voice breaks the quiet of the car ride, bringing you back down to earth as you finally - finally - spare him a glance. “What’s on your mind?”
Do you notice the tap of his pointer on the wheel? Do you notice how his eyes dart religiously between the road and the curve of your brow? Do you notice the sweat on his own brow? God, what do you do to him?
“Uh,” you adjust in your seat. “Not… much.”
He clears his throat as you chuff, a calloused hand coming to rub his jaw as he turns back to the road. Lying. Something he’s used to, but not fond of - especially not with you.
“You sure?”
Though his eyes remain firmly forward, his tone doesn’t give much leeway. He knows you damn well by now, well enough to see through bullshit. He certainly doesn’t miss the way your shoulders roll back just out of his peripheral, the bite of your lip.
God, he just wished he could read you, sometimes.
“Yup.” You lie, again. You don’t want to - but it’s hard to admit to a guy like Nacho that you had the craziest sex dream about him only last night, while he’s sitting not even a foot away from you, glowing under the warmth of the mid-afternoon light.
His jaw sets. You’d be a little more concerned if it was a little less hot.
“Mintiéndome.” He grunts, left hand clenching the steering wheel as the other pauses on his jaw, looking at you once again.
“Nacho-” you start, but he simply cuts you off.
“Don’t lie to me.” He’s never this confrontational. Something about it makes you straighten up, shrink under the ever-intense gaze he always holds.
“I-” Deep breath. “Shit, um.” The tension in his gaze, his command over the silence only worsens the pressure of the moment. His silence is no longer encouraging as it always is, but now commanding. You can’t help the way you squirm, going to cross your left leg over your right, when–
“Wait.” His hand is on your thigh, a strong grip. You stare down at his tanned skin on your clothes, wishing you were wearing less layers, as the sun only seemed to bare down on you, all the more intently. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, no,” You barely breathe, as you stop him before the words escape. You rake your teeth over your bottom lip, head tilting ever so slightly back, yet your gaze is still glued to his touch. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t-“
“Nacho.” Your voice is barely a whisper, as you suddenly find the courage to speak.. whether or not you truly had expected to. “It’s fine.”
His eyes widen slightly as your hand comes to rest atop his. That deep gaze of his, glued to how your fingers thread between his, brushing over his knuckles and setting him alight. He loses himself in you, your touch, in that moment.
You barely contain a shriek as something flashes on the road, the path sharply changes and the car swerves very suddenly out of the way of an unexpected shrub, coming to a jarring stop, with half the car still on the trail as Nacho struggles to recuperate from the sudden adrenaline spike…
Something so silly, a simple bush - out in the desert, completely harmless - that spooked you (and by extension, him). Now his hand clutches your thigh like hell, his breath comes a little ragged, the perspiration on his brow only more notable than before.
Despite it all, the damn-near heart attack you almost gave him, he’s staring right at you, trying to determine what you feel, under those furrowed brows, and the heaving pants of your own. Slowly, he puts on the brake.
“Fuck.” You can barely get the words out. “I’m… um, sorry-“
“Shut.. shut up.” He mumbles, his eyes darting over your face, both eyes and your lips. Unabashedly.
You don’t even get to respond before he’s scrambling out of his seatbelt, crushing his lips to yours hungrily, trying to coax your tongue right out of your mouth.
A gasp escapes you, and for support, your hands come to clutch his shirt, the intensity of his kiss making you freeze…
And then melt. Completely. Seriously, he gets you like putty, without trying. He moans faintly as your lips part like he so needs them to, his tongue swiping over your lips and lower teeth, begging to get just a taste.
His hands come to your face, clutching your cheeks, brushing through your hair, then to the back of your neck as he holds you in place, grunting as you tangle your tongue with his, the intimacy of it making you weak in the knees.
Without a word, your seatbelt flies off, and he’s huddling you into his lap hastily, his biceps flexing as he wrangles you from the passenger seat, while you flail to cooperate - still disoriented from the kiss. You feel him beneath you, aching, pressing in as he needs you like oxygen.
It seems an age before the both of you split, those pretty eyes of his fluttering as he stares at you. His lips are wet from where you met only moments before, and in this moment, he’s mesmerising. Just as mesmerising as you seem to be, to him.
Barely breathing, he runs his hand a little further up your thigh. “I want you.”
You shiver as his thumb brushes the crevice between your thigh and most sacred place, a shaky little gasp leaving him as he feels your heat. With a hint of a smirk, you breathlessly chuckle.
“Really?” That voice, so low, makes him shudder.
You place your hand atop his, watching, starstruck as his forehead falls to your shoulder. He bites his lip, breathing in the scent of you.
As you tilt back your head to get some air, clear your thoughts, he seizes the opportunity; his lips hurriedly press onto your neck, his eyes alight with hunger as he kisses up and down your skin like a man possessed. Hungry. Worshipful.
Your hand comes right to the back of his head, feeling over the smooth plane, raking your hands lightly through the growing buzz. He gasps harshly on your skin after sucking a mark right onto you, the taste of you utterly electric.
“Want you…” He mumbles, kneading your thigh, his other hand finding your waist, needy.
“Yeah?” Shakily, you manage to respond.
“Now…” He murmurs again, a slight growl in his voice. It makes you shiver.
You bite your lip, a shaky smile on your face as you stare down at his torso, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his racing heart. He blushes, just slightly- unnoticeable if you weren’t searching, and your own heart matches his pace.
“So beautiful.” He murmurs, hand coming to brush over your side, eyes soft and intense, all in the same.
You get deja vu, back to your dream the night prior… as if knowing you’d be spending the entire damn day, in such close proximity to him, your brain just ran with the ‘late night’ thoughts you were having; imagery of you, and him, and him, and you flashes in your mind as his fingers brush below the hem of your shirt, teasing.
Faintly, you chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, watching his expression soften into the slightest of smiles. He leans in slightly, pressing a kiss of his own to your jaw. “Take it off for me?”
With a shiver you comply. How can you say no to that face, that voice? You scramble to pull the fabric off in the confines of the car, a little shiver escapes as you discard it to the pedals. He swallows, before his hands come up to feather over your sides, tan hands brushing over the planes of your skin, reverently.
He presses back to your (now, bare) shoulder, his lips worshipping the crook of your neck in the most maddening way. His hips slowly grind up, right where you want him the most, and he shudders softly, eyes shutting tight as you reciprocate. “Fuck…”
You stare down at him, longing, seeing his arms and shoulders flex as they trickle down your body, coming to cup your ass lightly - you watch the muscles flex as he squeezes. You arch, helpless.
“So fucking sexy…” He mumbles against you, as you press your face to the side of his, nibbling his jaw lightly as you go.
“You think so?” At your little comment, Nacho squeezes again, a flicker of a grin growing on his handsome face.
“Mhm.” The words barely escape him as he’s swallowing, his hips rolling upwards once again, in the most delicious way. His lips find the lobe of your ear, nibbling slightly, fingers brushing tenderly against your skin. “Wanna worship you.”
Your head spins at the idea.
A renewed vigor seems to entrap the both of you, his hands coming hurriedly to the fly of your pants, while yours slip under his shirt to pull the tight fabric off him. You marvel at his body while he tugs down your pants, hands dipping and squeezing over the curve of your ass as he goes.
It’s not like you’ve never seen him shirtless before, but fuck, you definitely don’t see it enough, you realise now.
Admittedly, it takes a bit longer than usual to rip each other’s clothes off in the confines of the car; it’s awkward, with sheepish smiles and needy looks shared, relieving the embarrassment to make way for intimacy. He’s finally in his boxers, and you, finally in only your underwear, letting him trail his hands over your skin while the sun beats down on your back.
He leans in again for another kiss, biting your lower lip as he goes, a hand brushing through your hair while he smiles, slightly, showing teeth as they drag on your skin. “You have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting this.” He smiles, shy, all of a sudden.
You chuckle, pressing your forehead to his and brushing both hands along his front, sparks flying as the skin meets, fingers over torso, thighs over lap, mouth to mouth. The heat only makes you warmer, makes him harder, something about it makes an almost primal sensation fill the both of you, repressing any smarter instincts than the need to fuck, and fuck hard.
His calloused hands dip beneath the hem of your underwear, stroking what hides beneath, like sin personified. Nacho mouths over your chin and jaw like he can’t get enough of the taste of you.
The mixed musk of you both fills the space, the breeze faintly wandering by the open window and brushing your shoulder, making you doubly shiver as he feels over the dips and the curves of your most sensitive spots. “Feel good?”
You can’t respond; couldn’t think of something sexy enough if you tried. You mumble weakly into his temple, just a small sound of desperate agreement.
“Mmh. Hope so.” He presses down, making you gasp and twitch against his touch. He grins into your neck as it tilts your head back, licking a stripe up the skin. “Doing so good for me.”
Why the fuck have you never initiated this sooner, you wonder. Why have you both spent so long teetering on closing the distance, when the feel of sweat-slick skin sticking feels so fucking good?
Suddenly you’re unable to hold back anymore; you pant softly, kissing along his cheek while sliding a hand into his boxers and freeing his aching cock, heady and hard in your hand. He licks his lips, still staring at you, letting you do with him what you pleased. And that look, in those big brown eyes. Christ, you stop in your tracks to stare right back.
“...I never said stop.” He whispers, smiling slightly. You swallow, starting to jerk your hand over him, watching those pretty lashes flutter. You swear, you’d be jealous that they were naturally so fucking pretty, if it didn’t make you want him all the more.
“No?” You finally find your words, grinning slightly as a shaky breath leaves him.
“No.” He licks his lip again, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your neck. His fingers find your inner thighs, once again teasing you, now over the fabric. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “Ah ah,” With a sudden jerk forward, your breath mingles with his. “Don’t bite. That’s my job.”
You don’t even get a chance to roll your eyes at his cocky, perfect smile before his lips are back on yours. He presses into your mouth, kissing you, loving you like he was born for it, all the while your movement slows to a near-stop in your distraction.
It’s not long before the rest of your clothes are discarded, skin to skin never feeling so raw as it has, now. You let his cock brush between your thighs, the latex of the condom cool against the heat that you both emanate so effortlessly.
He presses against your entrance, his eyes peering up into yours with the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen, his pretty brown eyes gazing with the need for approval.
“Please.”
You don’t get another word out before he’s pressing inside, hips rocking up and splitting you open, hands clenching and pushing apart your inner thighs. He grunts as he slides inside, lashes fluttering still as you lower onto his lap, back arching at the slow sensation.
His hips rock and his cock twitches, making you squirm and grunt. He holds you by the hips as he pushes you onto his lap, his jaw falling a little slack as he pants, lashes and eyes rolling slightly while you drop down. He mumbles little curses, expression morphing from his usual confident, and less stoic self that he reserves for you, into something new.
Something cute, in a way. He looks desperate. He tilts back his head as your lips part, and you watch him thoughtlessly, as you’re pressed down. Your gaze is glued to the drop of his jaw, the whine in his throat, the shaky little sounds he makes as he stares up at the roof.
“Fuck.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as he bottoms out, the world going quiet as the two of you pant and recuperate.
He gazes up at you when he finally comes back down to earth, swallowing. “You feel okay?” He breathes, making you dazedly smile.
“Mhm…”
“Good…” He shudders out another small sigh, hands running sweetly over your sides. The cockiness from moments ago eases and what’s left is a much more vulnerable version of your… whatever he is. “Can I…?”
Wordlessly, you nod, and he smiles faintly, leaning into your shoulder and suckling at the skin before he’s grabbing your hips firmly once again. He guides you on his cock, slow, for now. Up, and then down, savouring the way your inner walls bend to his will, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out once again.
He nibbles at your skin, leaving a plentitude of marks of many a kind on the crook of your neck and shoulder, where your scent is most obvious. He feels like a an addict, practically licking your skin for more of the high, but he can’t help it; he needs the hit.
His pace remains gentle, for a little. His hands continue to slip from the sweat of his palms, struggling to grasp onto your hips with the way they slightly tremble. His grunts devolve into whines, his low gasps morphing into sweeter, softer pants as he relishes the feeling of you; inside and out.
You squirm, lips parting at all the perfect sensations he manages to elicit from you, rather at his mercy as he fucks into you and murmurs the most tender things. You bite down on your lip; hard. “Feel… so… fuckin’ good.”
Nacho’s words grow weak and shaky with the effort it takes to force them out, trying needily to push deeper, take more, more, more of you. Get every ounce of your perfect body that he can.
Carding through your hair, his calloused hands brush over your scalp, his mouth agape and pressed on your jaw like he’s itching to bite. He fucks you like he needs it to survive, every stutter of his hips leaving him mewling and grunting faintly, right up in your ear. The heat of it all drives you crazy- you can feel the sweat melding your skin together, making it only harder to pull away from every surface that sticks.
He revels in every sound you let escape - it’s more beautiful than he could’ve imagined, your sweet sounds of pleasure. The quiet versus the loud, the rough versus the smooth- every one makes him ache, sucking more marks and bites into your neck, only to kiss the pain away, as an apology.
When he’s close, he bites his lip, shuddering hard. “Fuck, I can’t- baby, I’m gonna- oh…“ He can barely get the words out. “Ngh… are you-?”
You swallow- you’re not as close as he is, clearly. You bite down on your lower lip, thighs clenching, the needy look on his face making you ache to somehow speed up, join him. You shudder faintly. “Um…”
The hesitance tells him everything; instantly, he brings his right hand down, down to your most sensitive spot. He rubs/wraps around you, watching your eyes flutter as he tries to push you over the edge.
As you groan into his ear, bucking towards his palm, his pace slows to a sinful pace, savouring the feel of you with trembling sounds, all the while he touches you as best as his lust-addled mind allows.
“So fuckin’ beautiful…” He mumbles, suckling another stripe, just above your collarbone. “Come for me…?”
You mumble out his name shakily as he makes a deliciously good movement, your eyes shutting momentarily.
“Mmhm.. I’m almost… d- doing so.. good, Nacho…”
“Ah…” He grins softly, nuzzling your neck, picking up his paces slightly, concentrating. “Come for me, baby…”
A shiver runs through you, a hand coming up, grabbing the handle above your head and the firmest thing your other hand can seem to find; his shoulder.
“Fuck, Nacho, I’m—“
“Me too, baby, y’feel so…” His jaw goes a little slack, his pace quickening, hips pistoning with desperation. “G- g- nnngh…”
“G- God…”
You shudder and gasp, thighs twitching as your release hits you, clenching down on your support. Your eyes roll back and you ride the wave of your orgasm, Nacho staring up at your face as you come - you’re perfect as you are, but Christ…
He comes shakily undone, hips jerking into you recklessly, an erratic pace, while you make a mess of his thighs/stomach. He stares in awe until he fizzles out, eyes shutting, while you lay your chin on his shoulder, panting quietly into his skin while the two of you recover.
In the silence, your hips twitch every now and again, making you shiver. He murmurs lazy praises in your ear, hands loose but certain on your thighs, his eyes half-lidded.
“…mmh.” He sighs weakly, shutting his eyes and running his hands over your back. You lazily arch into the motion, grinning faintly. “Mierda…” He whispers into your skin.
Faintly, you grin, kissing his temple lightly.
“So…” You murmur, slyest grin, as per usual. “Round two, or…?”
holy shit ty guys so much for 100 notes again ^^ u guys are actually so sweet tysm!! i finally cross posted this on ao3 if u want to go read it/bookmark it there:
TAGS :: brett hand x fem!reader, little use of y/n, nsfw/smut, established relationship, sub!brett, dom!reader kinda, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap guys), implied breeding kink bc it’s brett guys cmon, praise, begging, fluffy, i miss you brett hand come home
WARN :: nsfw/smut, mdni18+, guys i lowk skimmed this sorry if there r any mistakes!!
inside job in 2025.... 💔
Brett was - to be simply put - needy.
Perfect. Attentive, charming, doting and reassuring. But so, so needy.
Meeting Brett at your shitty job at Cognito changed your life (for the first time at the goddamned company) for the better. Somehow, you’d wake up excited to go to work and catch glimpses of him in the workplace. Fleeting moments of eye contact that had your heart fluttering, and he’d smile in that boyish way of his, and you would too as you looked away to hide the flushing of your cheeks.
He’s always been the most attentive boyfriend you’ve ever had, and now as your husband, he’s better, if it were possible. 7 years together, 4 years married and going on almost a year since your first child came into your life. He begged for kids, and knowing Brett would be the father of the century, any doubts you had faded when he put on that ring and vowed to love you and every piece of you for the rest of your shared lives.
You smile, gently, seeing the ring on your ring finger against the steering wheel as you pull into the driveway. Getting back into the swing of things at work has been better than you expected. As expected, Brett truly is the father of the century, and offered to be a stay-at-home Dad, while you took up a promotion in your division at Cognito. You miss seeing his face around at work- sneaky kisses, flirty glances, fucking in the bathroom when he needs you too badly. But knowing he’s always at home- waiting, eagerly- keeps you sane.
With a grunt, you yawn and slip out of the car, grabbing up your bag and locking it as you slip past the gate to your place, knowing Brett is probably waiting for you at the door, like he always does when he hears your car pull into the driveway…
Since you went back to work, it’s been… hard to adjust, seeing less of you each day. He keeps up a smile, and he adjusts his schedule to make sure all the chores he does get done between your work hours, so he doesn’t miss you when you get home. He brings your baby girl with you, too, everywhere he goes. Maximum efficiency.
As you turn the key, you hear the usual sigh of relief from your husband, and as soon as the door is shut, strong arms wrap around your waist. Your eyes soften and you smile, returning the hug.
“Hi, baby.” You coo, bringing a hand to his auburn hair. He huffs lightly into your shoulder, already nuzzling his way to your neck to breathe you in.
“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.
You chuckle and let the embrace linger for a moment, feeling him breathe in deeply and press up against you - not unusual, if not maybe a little more intense than usual. But a gentle “da-da” from the living room makes both your heads perk up. You peel away from Brett before you notice his half-hard-on and don’t see his expression as you shuffle into the living room to see your little girl.
Her eyes light up with excitement as she sees you and she opens her hands, crawling and stumbling a little to meet her parents. You laugh softly and kneel beside her, bringing her into your lap.
“Hi, hi,” the baby girl babbles excitedly and her tiny fists clench and unclench on your shirt, squealing with delight. “Hi, cutie, I missed you.” She giggles excitedly in your lap.
Brett approaches behind you and swallows, brushing a hand through your hair, tucking it from your eyes. “Dinner- is, uh, almost ready, beautiful.” He breathes, and somehow his tone slips your mind as you remember the project that’s due at the start of your shift, tomorrow, that you just didn’t complete today. You take a deep breath and smile gently up at him.
“Thank you, angel.” You murmur, shutting your eyes and leaning into the touch. His lashes flutter and he shivers at the nickname, always so weak for your praise, and smiles in that shy way that he reserves for you.
“Of course. Anything.” With a sigh, he turns back to the kitchen. “I’ll finish cooking… you go get unready, okay?” You nod wordlessly, hoisting your kid up with you and holding her to your chest, kissing Brett briefly. He lingers after you as you pull away, smiling dopily, and watching as you slip into the dining room just outside the kitchen, setting your girl into her high chair, and wandering upstairs, bag on arm, with another yawn.
Brett swallows and adjusts his sweatpants as he watches you go, holding back a pathetic sound…
Once you arrive back downstairs, work clothes properly away and pajamas on, you take out your hair and join Brett in the kitchen, seeing the kiddo with her favourite plush, sitting contently in her chair.
“Need me to set the table?” You murmur, coming up from behind and gently putting your hands on his waist, close- closer, lower, if you’d just–
“Y- mhm.” He stammers slightly, feeling you kiss his cheek and pet his hip.
Jesus, this is pathetic, Brett, he thinks, holding back a whimper. He turns off the stove and glances behind him, seeing you grabbing out the cutlery and moving to set the table, making a silly face at your daughter, and his heart aches, his groin throbs.
He’s so, so needy today… he can’t help it. He’s gone without his fix - your alarm was fucked up since yesterday you pushed it off the bedside and the thing broke, and you woke up late this morning. He barely got a kiss before you were rushing out the door, shoes half-on, shirt half-buttoned, hair clumsily pushed out of your face. He didn’t get his quality morning time with you, much to his bleeding heart’s dismay.
You look so oblivious to his struggle, too, as he watches you distractedly. When your gazes meet and you quirk your brows, glance at the stove and smirk, he realises he had business to attend to. “Sorry.” He huffs, slightly frustrated - at himself, of course - for being so desperate. It’s not his right to have you, despite how used to it he is, how he’d never tire of you and your perfect body. His cock strains in his boxers at the thought of you, behind him again- sighing wistfully.
Dinner’s on the table moments later - and as usual, you all sit, your daughter eating (or, more accurately, playing) with some cereal as a small snack before her bed time. You and Brett sit across from each other.
But he’s quieter tonight. He’s in his own head, he’s desperate and on top of that, guilty for feeling so desperate. He eats slow and finds his gaze falling back to you every few moments as you focus on your meal, and your daughter, who you gently scold for making a mess, turning to feed her carefully. You yawn again, and he wants to stroke your hair as you choke around his cock with that slack jaw of yours, he’s so pretty and swollen and pink, just for you, you, you-
Jesus, Brett! Get it together!
He squirms in his seat and looks up as you pick up your daughter.
“I think someone’s ready for bed.” You huff, blowing a raspberry on her head, earning a sleepy giggle from her. She cuddles into your chest, and Brett wishes that was him instead. He just smiles and kisses his daughter goodnight on the forehead, brushing her hair from her face as she keeps giggling, then his lips brush your cheek, earning a smile from you as you slip off.
He stares after you, once you’ve disappeared up the stairs, his lashes flutter shut for a moment as he brushes a hand over his length beneath his sweatpants and god, his body just rocks slightly at the sensation, the pleasure that lets the heat spread through him and he’s so fucked.
He softly strokes his hand back and forth over his dick, wishing it was yours, soothing him, telling him he’s done such a good job, waiting for you, your good boy. He breathes heavily and licks his lips, head slightly thrown back. “Ngh…” He whines, his dinner long forgotten.
That sweet fantasy is broken when you come wandering back into the room, making him flinch and gasp in shock, entirely not expecting you to come back so soon.
“Hey, you.” You chuckle, seeing him startled, and you assume the pink of his cheeks is simply out of embarrassment for getting so spooked.
“H- haha, hey, hey yourself.” He grins nervously and sits up, watching as you lean forward and smirk.
“Did I spook you?”
“O-only a little.”
He’s tense, tenser than usual. The curve of your lip falters for a moment. “You okay?”
“Yep!” Too quick an answer…
“Are you sure?” He usually tells you immediately if something is wrong… and if not immediately, then with a little prying.
“Mhm, I’m all good, beautiful.” He breathes out and offers a little smile. You still feel like something is bothering him, but you slowly nod.
“...okay, baby.” You clear your throat, and noticed his untouched dinner. “Hey, keep eating.” You lightly press your foot against his shin.
Brett swallows. “Okay.” He fumbles for a moment with his fork, and you watch, slightly amused, somewhat concerned. You both eat in silence for another moment. “H-how was your day?”
“Oh, yeah. No, it was good.” You huff slightly. “Boring… same old.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” He murmurs, tilting his head with those puppy eyes that make you melt, convince you he can read your mind, in hopes of taking away a little of your pain to carry with him instead. You smile.
“Don’t be.” You croon, leaning forward a little. He does, too, instinctively.
“I missed you.” He murmurs, taking a deeper breath, and you smile wider.
“You’d better of.” Tilting your head, you reach for his hand. He takes it, without question. “I always miss you.”
The way his face lights up when you say little, romantic things like that will never get old to you. He just melts, where he sits. The two of you sit in silence for a moment as you stroke your thumb over his palm, his wrist, noticing the faster flutter of his pulse.
Your gazes meet and he’s looking at you with adoration. Damn him, those fucking puppy eyes of his. His cheeks are still so pink… your heart flutters and a little realisation comes over you. Oh, you know that look. And you know it well.
He sits up, attentive to your shift in expression…
But you’re maybe not the kindest of lovers out there. You look back down at your plate wordlessly and keep eating to hide the shit-eating smirk that threatens to break out onto your face.
You see the way your poor husband practically shrivels across the table.
“What’d you get up to today?” Through a mouth full you break the silence, somehow startling him again.
“Hm-? I, uh, y’know. Woke up when you did, got ready, got our angel ready, uh… breakfast, chores, lunch, worked out while she played…” He rambles on, talking a little too quick, still a little too flushed. He could talk forever, and you could listen, the way he forgets his food before him as he spills as much of his day to you as he can think to.
“Mhm?”
“She- was really good. Only cried once! Which is- uh, average, but… glass half full.” A nervous chuckle escapes him, as you scrape up the last of the food on your plate with a reassuring nod.
“Mhm. That’s good, baby.” You purr, looking up at him with a small smile. It’s innocent. And for a himbo in his predicament, it’s excruciating.
You sigh, feeling his eyes glued to you as you carefully place your cutlery on your plate, the small clatter filling the silence. “Thank you.” He mumbles, a little quieter, weaker, he’s never not been desperate when it came to your praise.
“Dinner was amazing as usual…” You stand, sigh, picking up your dish and noticing his half-uneaten plate in return. Bending over the table you kiss his head in thanks, his poorly concealed puppy-dog-eyes melting into affection as you do so. “Thank you for cooking, my love.”
Brett is at his breaking point, your sweet words, the tenderness in your kiss - he’s up and following you as you wander into the kitchen. His breath catches as he finds you, bent over the dishwasher to put the plate away. He just— can’t fucking help it anymore.
He presses up behind you, hands finding your hips with a small grunt. You shiver, feeling his hard-on pressing against your ass, he’s always been fond of your ass, anyway.
“Brett?” You coo, in that way that tells him you’ve been teasing. He whimpers, hands clamping needily on your hips.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, leaning right over you, breath tickling your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he tucks whatever hair he can behind it. “Stop fucking teasing...”
He whispers to you in a way that would be so intimidating if it wasn’t him, wasn’t so whiny, so pathetic, so sweet. It’s not a command, it’s a plea. He whimpers as you lean up against him, just to get another cute reaction. He buries his face into your neck in response and presses those sloppy, sweet, pleading kisses he knows you like, grinding.
“Jesus, Brett, not over the dishwasher—” Breathless, you grin and whisper. His hands snake around your waist and before you know it, you’re pressed up on the counter, ass still up as he continues to grind weakly. You moan in surprise, relaxing with newfound support.
He really can’t help himself, he’s back to slobbering over your neck, as if trying to meld you two as one, to let the world know you’re his by his scent, since he can’t be there to remind you and the world at work anymore.
“God, I need you. Please.” He mumbles, clenching at your hips slightly, grinding up a little harder. You shiver, back arching.
With a hum, he whimpers and holds on tighter. “Do you really want it that bad?” You purr, turning to look up at him from behind. He groans under his breath, you feel him twitching under his sweatpants.
“Y/N, g-god, please, I can’t take it.” He buries his face into your shoulder, even still, he tends to get shy at his submissive tendencies. “All day… so hard, been- been so good, I’ll treat you right, m-make you feel.. so, so… s-so good…”
Little rambles. You’re used to them by now, very much so. He gets so desperate by this point, and the both of you love it. Maybe too much.
“I dunno… do you think you deserve it?”
“Yes. Yes, God, please.”
“Been a good boy? For me?”
“Ah huh… uh huh.” You coo, and lightly grind back against him, making him melt on top of you, pinning you to the counter with his weight.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” you breathe after a moment of listening to his quiet whimpers. “you can take it.”
He makes no mistake to hesitate.
In a moment, a blink, he’s pulling down your pajama pants and panties in one go, pushing your shirt up to your breasts. He gropes at the skin that’s revealed, hands slipping under your shirt, sliding over your stomach and sides, cupping the bare skin of your pretty little ass. He groans, you feel the fabric and the hardness beneath, all for you.
“Oh God…” He whispers. Despite his desperation, he never fails to take the time to worship your body, ever patch of warm skin that he can find he needs to run his fingers over, brushing your thighs and squeezing as he moans sweetly into your neck.
Brett always loves to touch where you’re sensitive, the places only he gets to, since they get him a reaction. With every sweet sigh, little moan, mewl, gasp he receives you can feel the twitch of his cock - taunting - in response.
“Worship” is an understatement for the way he feels about you.
“Baby,” you breathe, feeling almost bad for the fact he hasn’t even freed himself yet, and you’re already slick and waiting. “Y- you can… would you take them off?”
Your gentle command seems to spark him to action, like he’d forgotten, your pleasure being all he could focus on. “U- uh huh.”
“Good boy…”
You feel him shiver, his hips bucking into his hands at your praise as he fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants. A moment passes and then the floor beneath you is a pile of fabrics, the tantalisingly beautiful sensation of skin on skin sparking your veins with heat.
His length brushes over the folds of your core, a sweet whimper escapes him as he presses up on you, feeling his tip brush past your clit on his way through. You moan, he shudders, feeling your slick coating his girth, a breathy gasp leaves him.
“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, large hands appreciatively cupping your ass and spreading your cheeks lightly over his cock, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart slightly. He groans against the skin of your neck, panting. “I can’t wait anymore-”
With a nod, his hips buckle and you feel him pressing up against your entrance, one hand remaining on your hips as he maneuvers you. It’s rougher than usual, closer to a manhandle, he’s too pent up. “Ngh, that’s it, go on, angel.” You breathe, feeling him gnaw slightly at your shirt as he pushes the tip carefully in. The two of you shiver in unison, a gasping chuckle escaping you while a strangled grunt leaves his lips.
“Ohh, my God.” He whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. His usual gentle demeanour is there, with a sense of fervour that you don’t get to see so often. He noses at your neck as he slides in, his lashes flutter on the skin of your jaw in pleasure as your walls part for him, tighter than usual without the foreplay he usually insists on providing. “So… feel so good.”
His hands squeeze on your hips as you lean desperately on the counter for support, shuddering as he bottoms out, finally. Your mind slowly clears from the haze of pleasure, grunting under your breath. “Yeah?”
“God, y- yes.” He mumbles, nibbling your ear slightly. This, all of this, feels a little strange - new. It’s been forever since you did anything other than missionary, since Brett is so desperate to look you in the eyes while he fucks you. It’s actually… kind of exciting, refreshing, maybe. “I love… being inside you.”
You groan softly at his words, and as he feels you clench around him, he gasps under his breath and draws back gently, then pushes back in - slow - eliciting another aching sound from your throat.
His eyes are locked on your profile as he peeks over your shoulder, fucking you slow (as he always does at the start), admiring your dropped jaw. You grunt, pretty flushed cheeks catching his eyes, brown practically bleeding with lust and love for you, you, only you. “Fuck, jus’ wanna be inside you… t-take me so well…”
“‘Was made for you, baby, ngh-”
He whimpers. “Ohh, fuck.”
His hands grasp whatever flesh they can reach, fingers brushing lovingly over your sides, lightly grabbing your tummy, circling your nipples as he starts to carefully increase the rhythm of which he pulls and pushes inside.
“Fuck me, s- so good.”
“Mhm?” He whispers against the skin of your shoulder that he pushes free, the fabric of your pajama shirt (one of his old t-shirts he very happily relinquished) with his nose, breathing your scent in.
“Mhm… so good…” He twitches inside you, making you shiver and smile, head tilting back, a sweet gasp escaping you. “Just for me, huh? Fuck me so well…”
“Only you, just you… love you…”
“I love you, ngh- l-love you, too.”
The two of you fuck like you’re in heat, his pace increasing more and more. He brings a hand to cover your mouth when your moans get too loud, so as not to wake the baby girl upstairs, and you kiss his palm, making him whimper, kissing the skin of your shoulder and throat, sloppy and wet as per usual.
He fucks every stroke into you like he’s trying to get you pregnant all over again (which, lets be honest, he probably is. Can you blame him for wanting you home again?), his length brushing and later bruising your cervix with the strength at which he thrusts. He clutches at your tummy and hips, while you struggle to find merit in something to grasp while he fucks you like an animal. His moans and whimpers flood your mind, right in your ear. So pretty.
“A-are you close?” Not exactly. But he’s clearly been needing this. He sees the hesitation in your face, though, and brings the hand from your mouth down, between your thighs. You flush and chuckle, before a… louder than you intended gasp is ripped from you, as he brushes his fingers over your clit.
“Oh, fuck, Brett…” you gently moan, behind your hand, and he smiles into your shoulder, returning to his kisses. He’d hold out a little longer, just for you. He won’t need to wait much longer though, as he makes that fucking figure eight motion, your eyes roll back a little.
“T- tell me when you’re there.” He whispers, like he won’t feel it, pushing your inner walls apart as though they weren’t already molded to the shape of him.
“Ah huh… g- good boy, so good, fuck me so well,” you whisper, leaning your head against his as he sucks a little mark into the skin between your neck and throat, making you buck your hips toward his hand softly. “That’s perfect…”
He nods and noses at your jaw, nuzzling, so loving.
Your body tenses and you gasp, every sound muffled by your palm, a perfect sound for the proximity you share. “Oh, fuck me, please.” You breathe, his strokes slow down a little to keep stroking the swollen bud, as your thighs tremble a little. “I’m close, I’m gonna- gonna, I’m gonna come, so cl-”
Brett groans as he hears you say that, and as your walls clench so perfectly around him, he shivers, gasping breathlessly. He loses his control and fucks into you with a reckless abandon, and only a moment later you can feel him come apart, his hot cum flooding you in spurts, hips rocking and shaking, moaning into the skin of your upper-most back. You weakly smile, mumbling hoarse praises as he trembles.
He paints your inner walls white, trembling as he melts over your back, the both of you softly panting. He sighs sweetly and you smile, laughing softly, while he keeps you plugged.
“Mmh.” He moans softly, opening his eyes to see you peeking up at him from the side, and he smiles back. “Thank you, beautiful.” He whispers, his eyes shutting once again.
“Anything for you, angel.”
He smiles, shy, in that cute way that made you fall in love in the first place.
TAGS :: nacho varga x gn!reader, no use of y/n, nsfw/smut, dom!nacho that devolves into subby lol, top!nacho for my m!readers, porn w/o plot tbh, porn w/ feelings, body worship, praise kink, not beta read, sigh i miss my bcs era
WARN :: nsfw/smut, mdni18+ 🙃, ignore the mistakes mwah ty
NOTE :: meow i love nacho
my only language is eng, so sorry if any esp words are corny/wrong/etc
its lowkey been 2 yrs since i finished bcs and i need to rewatch, so if nacho is ooc or something im sorry…!!!
if my gn!reader leans toward too fem, pls give me some feedback on how i can improve. and be nice about it ty
this might be ass sorry.. ik the quality dips in and out 😵💫 pls forgive me school is kicking my ass rn, i just wrote this for me so Dx
The heat of the New Mexico sun was no privy struggle for those not used to it. The desert stretched on for miles, the sky just as infinite. He knew it well, though, better than most.
Nacho’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the outer shell of his door, the Javelin rumbling down dirt paths and hitching up dust at every turn. Even with the windows down, the wind brushing his skin, he was still feeling the brush of sweat on his brow.
You sat prettily beside him, quiet. Not quite as quiet as him, of course, as he’s likely the most quiet a person can truly get. Always off in his own head, sneaking glances that he prays you won’t catch at your profile, while you’re busy staring out into the harsh, sun-kissed horizon.
Weirdly, it’s too quiet for Nacho, maybe for the first time in a very long time.
You tend to fill the silences he struggles to, tend to offer him those lingering glances, too. He finds himself missing them, more than he’d care to admit, in these moments of absence.
Your relationship isn’t all that professional, blurring the lines between close coworkers and friends with benefits, if you ask him. He’s not a big feelings guy - maybe he’ll feel you up when he’s tipsy enough instead, maybe he lets you touch him, stick closer to him than anyone else before.
Fuck, why is he freaking out? You’re just quiet. Maybe you’re not having a good day. Maybe you’re mad at him? Or… something like that? Shit. He’s no good at this, no good at all. His fingers tap on the steering wheel, annoyance spiking at his own neediness, the strange desperation for your approval that he’s usually better at ignoring.
“Er,” his gentle voice breaks the quiet of the car ride, bringing you back down to earth as you finally - finally - spare him a glance. “What’s on your mind?”
Do you notice the tap of his pointer on the wheel? Do you notice how his eyes dart religiously between the road and the curve of your brow? Do you notice the sweat on his own brow? God, what do you do to him?
“Uh,” you adjust in your seat. “Not… much.”
He clears his throat as you chuff, a calloused hand coming to rub his jaw as he turns back to the road. Lying. Something he’s used to, but not fond of - especially not with you.
“You sure?”
Though his eyes remain firmly forward, his tone doesn’t give much leeway. He knows you damn well by now, well enough to see through bullshit. He certainly doesn’t miss the way your shoulders roll back just out of his peripheral, the bite of your lip.
God, he just wished he could read you, sometimes.
“Yup.” You lie, again. You don’t want to - but it’s hard to admit to a guy like Nacho that you had the craziest sex dream about him only last night, while he’s sitting not even a foot away from you, glowing under the warmth of the mid-afternoon light.
His jaw sets. You’d be a little more concerned if it was a little less hot.
“Mintiéndome.” He grunts, left hand clenching the steering wheel as the other pauses on his jaw, looking at you once again.
“Nacho-” you start, but he simply cuts you off.
“Don’t lie to me.” He’s never this confrontational. Something about it makes you straighten up, shrink under the ever-intense gaze he always holds.
“I-” Deep breath. “Shit, um.” The tension in his gaze, his command over the silence only worsens the pressure of the moment. His silence is no longer encouraging as it always is, but now commanding. You can’t help the way you squirm, going to cross your left leg over your right, when–
“Wait.” His hand is on your thigh, a strong grip. You stare down at his tanned skin on your clothes, wishing you were wearing less layers, as the sun only seemed to bare down on you, all the more intently. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, no,” You barely breathe, as you stop him before the words escape. You rake your teeth over your bottom lip, head tilting ever so slightly back, yet your gaze is still glued to his touch. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t-“
“Nacho.” Your voice is barely a whisper, as you suddenly find the courage to speak.. whether or not you truly had expected to. “It’s fine.”
His eyes widen slightly as your hand comes to rest atop his. That deep gaze of his, glued to how your fingers thread between his, brushing over his knuckles and setting him alight. He loses himself in you, your touch, in that moment.
You barely contain a shriek as something flashes on the road, the path sharply changes and the car swerves very suddenly out of the way of an unexpected shrub, coming to a jarring stop, with half the car still on the trail as Nacho struggles to recuperate from the sudden adrenaline spike…
Something so silly, a simple bush - out in the desert, completely harmless - that spooked you (and by extension, him). Now his hand clutches your thigh like hell, his breath comes a little ragged, the perspiration on his brow only more notable than before.
Despite it all, the damn-near heart attack you almost gave him, he’s staring right at you, trying to determine what you feel, under those furrowed brows, and the heaving pants of your own. Slowly, he puts on the brake.
“Fuck.” You can barely get the words out. “I’m… um, sorry-“
“Shut.. shut up.” He mumbles, his eyes darting over your face, both eyes and your lips. Unabashedly.
You don’t even get to respond before he’s scrambling out of his seatbelt, crushing his lips to yours hungrily, trying to coax your tongue right out of your mouth.
A gasp escapes you, and for support, your hands come to clutch his shirt, the intensity of his kiss making you freeze…
And then melt. Completely. Seriously, he gets you like putty, without trying. He moans faintly as your lips part like he so needs them to, his tongue swiping over your lips and lower teeth, begging to get just a taste.
His hands come to your face, clutching your cheeks, brushing through your hair, then to the back of your neck as he holds you in place, grunting as you tangle your tongue with his, the intimacy of it making you weak in the knees.
Without a word, your seatbelt flies off, and he’s huddling you into his lap hastily, his biceps flexing as he wrangles you from the passenger seat, while you flail to cooperate - still disoriented from the kiss. You feel him beneath you, aching, pressing in as he needs you like oxygen.
It seems an age before the both of you split, those pretty eyes of his fluttering as he stares at you. His lips are wet from where you met only moments before, and in this moment, he’s mesmerising. Just as mesmerising as you seem to be, to him.
Barely breathing, he runs his hand a little further up your thigh. “I want you.”
You shiver as his thumb brushes the crevice between your thigh and most sacred place, a shaky little gasp leaving him as he feels your heat. With a hint of a smirk, you breathlessly chuckle.
“Really?” That voice, so low, makes him shudder.
You place your hand atop his, watching, starstruck as his forehead falls to your shoulder. He bites his lip, breathing in the scent of you.
As you tilt back your head to get some air, clear your thoughts, he seizes the opportunity; his lips hurriedly press onto your neck, his eyes alight with hunger as he kisses up and down your skin like a man possessed. Hungry. Worshipful.
Your hand comes right to the back of his head, feeling over the smooth plane, raking your hands lightly through the growing buzz. He gasps harshly on your skin after sucking a mark right onto you, the taste of you utterly electric.
“Want you…” He mumbles, kneading your thigh, his other hand finding your waist, needy.
“Yeah?” Shakily, you manage to respond.
“Now…” He murmurs again, a slight growl in his voice. It makes you shiver.
You bite your lip, a shaky smile on your face as you stare down at his torso, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his racing heart. He blushes, just slightly- unnoticeable if you weren’t searching, and your own heart matches his pace.
“So beautiful.” He murmurs, hand coming to brush over your side, eyes soft and intense, all in the same.
You get deja vu, back to your dream the night prior… as if knowing you’d be spending the entire damn day, in such close proximity to him, your brain just ran with the ‘late night’ thoughts you were having; imagery of you, and him, and him, and you flashes in your mind as his fingers brush below the hem of your shirt, teasing.
Faintly, you chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, watching his expression soften into the slightest of smiles. He leans in slightly, pressing a kiss of his own to your jaw. “Take it off for me?”
With a shiver you comply. How can you say no to that face, that voice? You scramble to pull the fabric off in the confines of the car, a little shiver escapes as you discard it to the pedals. He swallows, before his hands come up to feather over your sides, tan hands brushing over the planes of your skin, reverently.
He presses back to your (now, bare) shoulder, his lips worshipping the crook of your neck in the most maddening way. His hips slowly grind up, right where you want him the most, and he shudders softly, eyes shutting tight as you reciprocate. “Fuck…”
You stare down at him, longing, seeing his arms and shoulders flex as they trickle down your body, coming to cup your ass lightly - you watch the muscles flex as he squeezes. You arch, helpless.
“So fucking sexy…” He mumbles against you, as you press your face to the side of his, nibbling his jaw lightly as you go.
“You think so?” At your little comment, Nacho squeezes again, a flicker of a grin growing on his handsome face.
“Mhm.” The words barely escape him as he’s swallowing, his hips rolling upwards once again, in the most delicious way. His lips find the lobe of your ear, nibbling slightly, fingers brushing tenderly against your skin. “Wanna worship you.”
Your head spins at the idea.
A renewed vigor seems to entrap the both of you, his hands coming hurriedly to the fly of your pants, while yours slip under his shirt to pull the tight fabric off him. You marvel at his body while he tugs down your pants, hands dipping and squeezing over the curve of your ass as he goes.
It’s not like you’ve never seen him shirtless before, but fuck, you definitely don’t see it enough, you realise now.
Admittedly, it takes a bit longer than usual to rip each other’s clothes off in the confines of the car; it’s awkward, with sheepish smiles and needy looks shared, relieving the embarrassment to make way for intimacy. He’s finally in his boxers, and you, finally in only your underwear, letting him trail his hands over your skin while the sun beats down on your back.
He leans in again for another kiss, biting your lower lip as he goes, a hand brushing through your hair while he smiles, slightly, showing teeth as they drag on your skin. “You have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting this.” He smiles, shy, all of a sudden.
You chuckle, pressing your forehead to his and brushing both hands along his front, sparks flying as the skin meets, fingers over torso, thighs over lap, mouth to mouth. The heat only makes you warmer, makes him harder, something about it makes an almost primal sensation fill the both of you, repressing any smarter instincts than the need to fuck, and fuck hard.
His calloused hands dip beneath the hem of your underwear, stroking what hides beneath, like sin personified. Nacho mouths over your chin and jaw like he can’t get enough of the taste of you.
The mixed musk of you both fills the space, the breeze faintly wandering by the open window and brushing your shoulder, making you doubly shiver as he feels over the dips and the curves of your most sensitive spots. “Feel good?”
You can’t respond; couldn’t think of something sexy enough if you tried. You mumble weakly into his temple, just a small sound of desperate agreement.
“Mmh. Hope so.” He presses down, making you gasp and twitch against his touch. He grins into your neck as it tilts your head back, licking a stripe up the skin. “Doing so good for me.”
Why the fuck have you never initiated this sooner, you wonder. Why have you both spent so long teetering on closing the distance, when the feel of sweat-slick skin sticking feels so fucking good?
Suddenly you’re unable to hold back anymore; you pant softly, kissing along his cheek while sliding a hand into his boxers and freeing his aching cock, heady and hard in your hand. He licks his lips, still staring at you, letting you do with him what you pleased. And that look, in those big brown eyes. Christ, you stop in your tracks to stare right back.
“...I never said stop.” He whispers, smiling slightly. You swallow, starting to jerk your hand over him, watching those pretty lashes flutter. You swear, you’d be jealous that they were naturally so fucking pretty, if it didn’t make you want him all the more.
“No?” You finally find your words, grinning slightly as a shaky breath leaves him.
“No.” He licks his lip again, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your neck. His fingers find your inner thighs, once again teasing you, now over the fabric. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “Ah ah,” With a sudden jerk forward, your breath mingles with his. “Don’t bite. That’s my job.”
You don’t even get a chance to roll your eyes at his cocky, perfect smile before his lips are back on yours. He presses into your mouth, kissing you, loving you like he was born for it, all the while your movement slows to a near-stop in your distraction.
It’s not long before the rest of your clothes are discarded, skin to skin never feeling so raw as it has, now. You let his cock brush between your thighs, the latex of the condom cool against the heat that you both emanate so effortlessly.
He presses against your entrance, his eyes peering up into yours with the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen, his pretty brown eyes gazing with the need for approval.
“Please.”
You don’t get another word out before he’s pressing inside, hips rocking up and splitting you open, hands clenching and pushing apart your inner thighs. He grunts as he slides inside, lashes fluttering still as you lower onto his lap, back arching at the slow sensation.
His hips rock and his cock twitches, making you squirm and grunt. He holds you by the hips as he pushes you onto his lap, his jaw falling a little slack as he pants, lashes and eyes rolling slightly while you drop down. He mumbles little curses, expression morphing from his usual confident, and less stoic self that he reserves for you, into something new.
Something cute, in a way. He looks desperate. He tilts back his head as your lips part, and you watch him thoughtlessly, as you’re pressed down. Your gaze is glued to the drop of his jaw, the whine in his throat, the shaky little sounds he makes as he stares up at the roof.
“Fuck.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as he bottoms out, the world going quiet as the two of you pant and recuperate.
He gazes up at you when he finally comes back down to earth, swallowing. “You feel okay?” He breathes, making you dazedly smile.
“Mhm…”
“Good…” He shudders out another small sigh, hands running sweetly over your sides. The cockiness from moments ago eases and what’s left is a much more vulnerable version of your… whatever he is. “Can I…?”
Wordlessly, you nod, and he smiles faintly, leaning into your shoulder and suckling at the skin before he’s grabbing your hips firmly once again. He guides you on his cock, slow, for now. Up, and then down, savouring the way your inner walls bend to his will, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out once again.
He nibbles at your skin, leaving a plentitude of marks of many a kind on the crook of your neck and shoulder, where your scent is most obvious. He feels like a an addict, practically licking your skin for more of the high, but he can’t help it; he needs the hit.
His pace remains gentle, for a little. His hands continue to slip from the sweat of his palms, struggling to grasp onto your hips with the way they slightly tremble. His grunts devolve into whines, his low gasps morphing into sweeter, softer pants as he relishes the feeling of you; inside and out.
You squirm, lips parting at all the perfect sensations he manages to elicit from you, rather at his mercy as he fucks into you and murmurs the most tender things. You bite down on your lip; hard. “Feel… so… fuckin’ good.”
Nacho’s words grow weak and shaky with the effort it takes to force them out, trying needily to push deeper, take more, more, more of you. Get every ounce of your perfect body that he can.
Carding through your hair, his calloused hands brush over your scalp, his mouth agape and pressed on your jaw like he’s itching to bite. He fucks you like he needs it to survive, every stutter of his hips leaving him mewling and grunting faintly, right up in your ear. The heat of it all drives you crazy- you can feel the sweat melding your skin together, making it only harder to pull away from every surface that sticks.
He revels in every sound you let escape - it’s more beautiful than he could’ve imagined, your sweet sounds of pleasure. The quiet versus the loud, the rough versus the smooth- every one makes him ache, sucking more marks and bites into your neck, only to kiss the pain away, as an apology.
When he’s close, he bites his lip, shuddering hard. “Fuck, I can’t- baby, I’m gonna- oh…“ He can barely get the words out. “Ngh… are you-?”
You swallow- you’re not as close as he is, clearly. You bite down on your lower lip, thighs clenching, the needy look on his face making you ache to somehow speed up, join him. You shudder faintly. “Um…”
The hesitance tells him everything; instantly, he brings his right hand down, down to your most sensitive spot. He rubs/wraps around you, watching your eyes flutter as he tries to push you over the edge.
As you groan into his ear, bucking towards his palm, his pace slows to a sinful pace, savouring the feel of you with trembling sounds, all the while he touches you as best as his lust-addled mind allows.
“So fuckin’ beautiful…” He mumbles, suckling another stripe, just above your collarbone. “Come for me…?”
You mumble out his name shakily as he makes a deliciously good movement, your eyes shutting momentarily.
“Mmhm.. I’m almost… d- doing so.. good, Nacho…”
“Ah…” He grins softly, nuzzling your neck, picking up his paces slightly, concentrating. “Come for me, baby…”
A shiver runs through you, a hand coming up, grabbing the handle above your head and the firmest thing your other hand can seem to find; his shoulder.
“Fuck, Nacho, I’m—“
“Me too, baby, y’feel so…” His jaw goes a little slack, his pace quickening, hips pistoning with desperation. “G- g- nnngh…”
“G- God…”
You shudder and gasp, thighs twitching as your release hits you, clenching down on your support. Your eyes roll back and you ride the wave of your orgasm, Nacho staring up at your face as you come - you’re perfect as you are, but Christ…
He comes shakily undone, hips jerking into you recklessly, an erratic pace, while you make a mess of his thighs/stomach. He stares in awe until he fizzles out, eyes shutting, while you lay your chin on his shoulder, panting quietly into his skin while the two of you recover.
In the silence, your hips twitch every now and again, making you shiver. He murmurs lazy praises in your ear, hands loose but certain on your thighs, his eyes half-lidded.
“…mmh.” He sighs weakly, shutting his eyes and running his hands over your back. You lazily arch into the motion, grinning faintly. “Mierda…” He whispers into your skin.
Faintly, you grin, kissing his temple lightly.
“So…” You murmur, slyest grin, as per usual. “Round two, or…?”
TAGS :: nacho varga x gn!reader, no use of y/n, nsfw/smut, dom!nacho that devolves into subby lol, top!nacho for my m!readers, porn w/o plot tbh, porn w/ feelings, body worship, praise kink, not beta read, sigh i miss my bcs era
WARN :: nsfw/smut, mdni18+ 🙃, ignore the mistakes mwah ty
NOTE :: meow i love nacho
my only language is eng, so sorry if any esp words are corny/wrong/etc
its lowkey been 2 yrs since i finished bcs and i need to rewatch, so if nacho is ooc or something im sorry…!!!
if my gn!reader leans toward too fem, pls give me some feedback on how i can improve. and be nice about it ty
this might be ass sorry.. ik the quality dips in and out 😵💫 pls forgive me school is kicking my ass rn, i just wrote this for me so Dx
The heat of the New Mexico sun was no privy struggle for those not used to it. The desert stretched on for miles, the sky just as infinite. He knew it well, though, better than most.
Nacho’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the outer shell of his door, the Javelin rumbling down dirt paths and hitching up dust at every turn. Even with the windows down, the wind brushing his skin, he was still feeling the brush of sweat on his brow.
You sat prettily beside him, quiet. Not quite as quiet as him, of course, as he’s likely the most quiet a person can truly get. Always off in his own head, sneaking glances that he prays you won’t catch at your profile, while you’re busy staring out into the harsh, sun-kissed horizon.
Weirdly, it’s too quiet for Nacho, maybe for the first time in a very long time.
You tend to fill the silences he struggles to, tend to offer him those lingering glances, too. He finds himself missing them, more than he’d care to admit, in these moments of absence.
Your relationship isn’t all that professional, blurring the lines between close coworkers and friends with benefits, if you ask him. He’s not a big feelings guy - maybe he’ll feel you up when he’s tipsy enough instead, maybe he lets you touch him, stick closer to him than anyone else before.
Fuck, why is he freaking out? You’re just quiet. Maybe you’re not having a good day. Maybe you’re mad at him? Or… something like that? Shit. He’s no good at this, no good at all. His fingers tap on the steering wheel, annoyance spiking at his own neediness, the strange desperation for your approval that he’s usually better at ignoring.
“Er,” his gentle voice breaks the quiet of the car ride, bringing you back down to earth as you finally - finally - spare him a glance. “What’s on your mind?”
Do you notice the tap of his pointer on the wheel? Do you notice how his eyes dart religiously between the road and the curve of your brow? Do you notice the sweat on his own brow? God, what do you do to him?
“Uh,” you adjust in your seat. “Not… much.”
He clears his throat as you chuff, a calloused hand coming to rub his jaw as he turns back to the road. Lying. Something he’s used to, but not fond of - especially not with you.
“You sure?”
Though his eyes remain firmly forward, his tone doesn’t give much leeway. He knows you damn well by now, well enough to see through bullshit. He certainly doesn’t miss the way your shoulders roll back just out of his peripheral, the bite of your lip.
God, he just wished he could read you, sometimes.
“Yup.” You lie, again. You don’t want to - but it’s hard to admit to a guy like Nacho that you had the craziest sex dream about him only last night, while he’s sitting not even a foot away from you, glowing under the warmth of the mid-afternoon light.
His jaw sets. You’d be a little more concerned if it was a little less hot.
“Mintiéndome.” He grunts, left hand clenching the steering wheel as the other pauses on his jaw, looking at you once again.
“Nacho-” you start, but he simply cuts you off.
“Don’t lie to me.” He’s never this confrontational. Something about it makes you straighten up, shrink under the ever-intense gaze he always holds.
“I-” Deep breath. “Shit, um.” The tension in his gaze, his command over the silence only worsens the pressure of the moment. His silence is no longer encouraging as it always is, but now commanding. You can’t help the way you squirm, going to cross your left leg over your right, when–
“Wait.” His hand is on your thigh, a strong grip. You stare down at his tanned skin on your clothes, wishing you were wearing less layers, as the sun only seemed to bare down on you, all the more intently. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, no,” You barely breathe, as you stop him before the words escape. You rake your teeth over your bottom lip, head tilting ever so slightly back, yet your gaze is still glued to his touch. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t-“
“Nacho.” Your voice is barely a whisper, as you suddenly find the courage to speak.. whether or not you truly had expected to. “It’s fine.”
His eyes widen slightly as your hand comes to rest atop his. That deep gaze of his, glued to how your fingers thread between his, brushing over his knuckles and setting him alight. He loses himself in you, your touch, in that moment.
You barely contain a shriek as something flashes on the road, the path sharply changes and the car swerves very suddenly out of the way of an unexpected shrub, coming to a jarring stop, with half the car still on the trail as Nacho struggles to recuperate from the sudden adrenaline spike…
Something so silly, a simple bush - out in the desert, completely harmless - that spooked you (and by extension, him). Now his hand clutches your thigh like hell, his breath comes a little ragged, the perspiration on his brow only more notable than before.
Despite it all, the damn-near heart attack you almost gave him, he’s staring right at you, trying to determine what you feel, under those furrowed brows, and the heaving pants of your own. Slowly, he puts on the brake.
“Fuck.” You can barely get the words out. “I’m… um, sorry-“
“Shut.. shut up.” He mumbles, his eyes darting over your face, both eyes and your lips. Unabashedly.
You don’t even get to respond before he’s scrambling out of his seatbelt, crushing his lips to yours hungrily, trying to coax your tongue right out of your mouth.
A gasp escapes you, and for support, your hands come to clutch his shirt, the intensity of his kiss making you freeze…
And then melt. Completely. Seriously, he gets you like putty, without trying. He moans faintly as your lips part like he so needs them to, his tongue swiping over your lips and lower teeth, begging to get just a taste.
His hands come to your face, clutching your cheeks, brushing through your hair, then to the back of your neck as he holds you in place, grunting as you tangle your tongue with his, the intimacy of it making you weak in the knees.
Without a word, your seatbelt flies off, and he’s huddling you into his lap hastily, his biceps flexing as he wrangles you from the passenger seat, while you flail to cooperate - still disoriented from the kiss. You feel him beneath you, aching, pressing in as he needs you like oxygen.
It seems an age before the both of you split, those pretty eyes of his fluttering as he stares at you. His lips are wet from where you met only moments before, and in this moment, he’s mesmerising. Just as mesmerising as you seem to be, to him.
Barely breathing, he runs his hand a little further up your thigh. “I want you.”
You shiver as his thumb brushes the crevice between your thigh and most sacred place, a shaky little gasp leaving him as he feels your heat. With a hint of a smirk, you breathlessly chuckle.
“Really?” That voice, so low, makes him shudder.
You place your hand atop his, watching, starstruck as his forehead falls to your shoulder. He bites his lip, breathing in the scent of you.
As you tilt back your head to get some air, clear your thoughts, he seizes the opportunity; his lips hurriedly press onto your neck, his eyes alight with hunger as he kisses up and down your skin like a man possessed. Hungry. Worshipful.
Your hand comes right to the back of his head, feeling over the smooth plane, raking your hands lightly through the growing buzz. He gasps harshly on your skin after sucking a mark right onto you, the taste of you utterly electric.
“Want you…” He mumbles, kneading your thigh, his other hand finding your waist, needy.
“Yeah?” Shakily, you manage to respond.
“Now…” He murmurs again, a slight growl in his voice. It makes you shiver.
You bite your lip, a shaky smile on your face as you stare down at his torso, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his racing heart. He blushes, just slightly- unnoticeable if you weren’t searching, and your own heart matches his pace.
“So beautiful.” He murmurs, hand coming to brush over your side, eyes soft and intense, all in the same.
You get deja vu, back to your dream the night prior… as if knowing you’d be spending the entire damn day, in such close proximity to him, your brain just ran with the ‘late night’ thoughts you were having; imagery of you, and him, and him, and you flashes in your mind as his fingers brush below the hem of your shirt, teasing.
Faintly, you chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, watching his expression soften into the slightest of smiles. He leans in slightly, pressing a kiss of his own to your jaw. “Take it off for me?”
With a shiver you comply. How can you say no to that face, that voice? You scramble to pull the fabric off in the confines of the car, a little shiver escapes as you discard it to the pedals. He swallows, before his hands come up to feather over your sides, tan hands brushing over the planes of your skin, reverently.
He presses back to your (now, bare) shoulder, his lips worshipping the crook of your neck in the most maddening way. His hips slowly grind up, right where you want him the most, and he shudders softly, eyes shutting tight as you reciprocate. “Fuck…”
You stare down at him, longing, seeing his arms and shoulders flex as they trickle down your body, coming to cup your ass lightly - you watch the muscles flex as he squeezes. You arch, helpless.
“So fucking sexy…” He mumbles against you, as you press your face to the side of his, nibbling his jaw lightly as you go.
“You think so?” At your little comment, Nacho squeezes again, a flicker of a grin growing on his handsome face.
“Mhm.” The words barely escape him as he’s swallowing, his hips rolling upwards once again, in the most delicious way. His lips find the lobe of your ear, nibbling slightly, fingers brushing tenderly against your skin. “Wanna worship you.”
Your head spins at the idea.
A renewed vigor seems to entrap the both of you, his hands coming hurriedly to the fly of your pants, while yours slip under his shirt to pull the tight fabric off him. You marvel at his body while he tugs down your pants, hands dipping and squeezing over the curve of your ass as he goes.
It’s not like you’ve never seen him shirtless before, but fuck, you definitely don’t see it enough, you realise now.
Admittedly, it takes a bit longer than usual to rip each other’s clothes off in the confines of the car; it’s awkward, with sheepish smiles and needy looks shared, relieving the embarrassment to make way for intimacy. He’s finally in his boxers, and you, finally in only your underwear, letting him trail his hands over your skin while the sun beats down on your back.
He leans in again for another kiss, biting your lower lip as he goes, a hand brushing through your hair while he smiles, slightly, showing teeth as they drag on your skin. “You have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting this.” He smiles, shy, all of a sudden.
You chuckle, pressing your forehead to his and brushing both hands along his front, sparks flying as the skin meets, fingers over torso, thighs over lap, mouth to mouth. The heat only makes you warmer, makes him harder, something about it makes an almost primal sensation fill the both of you, repressing any smarter instincts than the need to fuck, and fuck hard.
His calloused hands dip beneath the hem of your underwear, stroking what hides beneath, like sin personified. Nacho mouths over your chin and jaw like he can’t get enough of the taste of you.
The mixed musk of you both fills the space, the breeze faintly wandering by the open window and brushing your shoulder, making you doubly shiver as he feels over the dips and the curves of your most sensitive spots. “Feel good?”
You can’t respond; couldn’t think of something sexy enough if you tried. You mumble weakly into his temple, just a small sound of desperate agreement.
“Mmh. Hope so.” He presses down, making you gasp and twitch against his touch. He grins into your neck as it tilts your head back, licking a stripe up the skin. “Doing so good for me.”
Why the fuck have you never initiated this sooner, you wonder. Why have you both spent so long teetering on closing the distance, when the feel of sweat-slick skin sticking feels so fucking good?
Suddenly you’re unable to hold back anymore; you pant softly, kissing along his cheek while sliding a hand into his boxers and freeing his aching cock, heady and hard in your hand. He licks his lips, still staring at you, letting you do with him what you pleased. And that look, in those big brown eyes. Christ, you stop in your tracks to stare right back.
“...I never said stop.” He whispers, smiling slightly. You swallow, starting to jerk your hand over him, watching those pretty lashes flutter. You swear, you’d be jealous that they were naturally so fucking pretty, if it didn’t make you want him all the more.
“No?” You finally find your words, grinning slightly as a shaky breath leaves him.
“No.” He licks his lip again, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your neck. His fingers find your inner thighs, once again teasing you, now over the fabric. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “Ah ah,” With a sudden jerk forward, your breath mingles with his. “Don’t bite. That’s my job.”
You don’t even get a chance to roll your eyes at his cocky, perfect smile before his lips are back on yours. He presses into your mouth, kissing you, loving you like he was born for it, all the while your movement slows to a near-stop in your distraction.
It’s not long before the rest of your clothes are discarded, skin to skin never feeling so raw as it has, now. You let his cock brush between your thighs, the latex of the condom cool against the heat that you both emanate so effortlessly.
He presses against your entrance, his eyes peering up into yours with the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen, his pretty brown eyes gazing with the need for approval.
“Please.”
You don’t get another word out before he’s pressing inside, hips rocking up and splitting you open, hands clenching and pushing apart your inner thighs. He grunts as he slides inside, lashes fluttering still as you lower onto his lap, back arching at the slow sensation.
His hips rock and his cock twitches, making you squirm and grunt. He holds you by the hips as he pushes you onto his lap, his jaw falling a little slack as he pants, lashes and eyes rolling slightly while you drop down. He mumbles little curses, expression morphing from his usual confident, and less stoic self that he reserves for you, into something new.
Something cute, in a way. He looks desperate. He tilts back his head as your lips part, and you watch him thoughtlessly, as you’re pressed down. Your gaze is glued to the drop of his jaw, the whine in his throat, the shaky little sounds he makes as he stares up at the roof.
“Fuck.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as he bottoms out, the world going quiet as the two of you pant and recuperate.
He gazes up at you when he finally comes back down to earth, swallowing. “You feel okay?” He breathes, making you dazedly smile.
“Mhm…”
“Good…” He shudders out another small sigh, hands running sweetly over your sides. The cockiness from moments ago eases and what’s left is a much more vulnerable version of your… whatever he is. “Can I…?”
Wordlessly, you nod, and he smiles faintly, leaning into your shoulder and suckling at the skin before he’s grabbing your hips firmly once again. He guides you on his cock, slow, for now. Up, and then down, savouring the way your inner walls bend to his will, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out once again.
He nibbles at your skin, leaving a plentitude of marks of many a kind on the crook of your neck and shoulder, where your scent is most obvious. He feels like a an addict, practically licking your skin for more of the high, but he can’t help it; he needs the hit.
His pace remains gentle, for a little. His hands continue to slip from the sweat of his palms, struggling to grasp onto your hips with the way they slightly tremble. His grunts devolve into whines, his low gasps morphing into sweeter, softer pants as he relishes the feeling of you; inside and out.
You squirm, lips parting at all the perfect sensations he manages to elicit from you, rather at his mercy as he fucks into you and murmurs the most tender things. You bite down on your lip; hard. “Feel… so… fuckin’ good.”
Nacho’s words grow weak and shaky with the effort it takes to force them out, trying needily to push deeper, take more, more, more of you. Get every ounce of your perfect body that he can.
Carding through your hair, his calloused hands brush over your scalp, his mouth agape and pressed on your jaw like he’s itching to bite. He fucks you like he needs it to survive, every stutter of his hips leaving him mewling and grunting faintly, right up in your ear. The heat of it all drives you crazy- you can feel the sweat melding your skin together, making it only harder to pull away from every surface that sticks.
He revels in every sound you let escape - it’s more beautiful than he could’ve imagined, your sweet sounds of pleasure. The quiet versus the loud, the rough versus the smooth- every one makes him ache, sucking more marks and bites into your neck, only to kiss the pain away, as an apology.
When he’s close, he bites his lip, shuddering hard. “Fuck, I can’t- baby, I’m gonna- oh…“ He can barely get the words out. “Ngh… are you-?”
You swallow- you’re not as close as he is, clearly. You bite down on your lower lip, thighs clenching, the needy look on his face making you ache to somehow speed up, join him. You shudder faintly. “Um…”
The hesitance tells him everything; instantly, he brings his right hand down, down to your most sensitive spot. He rubs/wraps around you, watching your eyes flutter as he tries to push you over the edge.
As you groan into his ear, bucking towards his palm, his pace slows to a sinful pace, savouring the feel of you with trembling sounds, all the while he touches you as best as his lust-addled mind allows.
“So fuckin’ beautiful…” He mumbles, suckling another stripe, just above your collarbone. “Come for me…?”
You mumble out his name shakily as he makes a deliciously good movement, your eyes shutting momentarily.
“Mmhm.. I’m almost… d- doing so.. good, Nacho…”
“Ah…” He grins softly, nuzzling your neck, picking up his paces slightly, concentrating. “Come for me, baby…”
A shiver runs through you, a hand coming up, grabbing the handle above your head and the firmest thing your other hand can seem to find; his shoulder.
“Fuck, Nacho, I’m—“
“Me too, baby, y’feel so…” His jaw goes a little slack, his pace quickening, hips pistoning with desperation. “G- g- nnngh…”
“G- God…”
You shudder and gasp, thighs twitching as your release hits you, clenching down on your support. Your eyes roll back and you ride the wave of your orgasm, Nacho staring up at your face as you come - you’re perfect as you are, but Christ…
He comes shakily undone, hips jerking into you recklessly, an erratic pace, while you make a mess of his thighs/stomach. He stares in awe until he fizzles out, eyes shutting, while you lay your chin on his shoulder, panting quietly into his skin while the two of you recover.
In the silence, your hips twitch every now and again, making you shiver. He murmurs lazy praises in your ear, hands loose but certain on your thighs, his eyes half-lidded.
“…mmh.” He sighs weakly, shutting his eyes and running his hands over your back. You lazily arch into the motion, grinning faintly. “Mierda…” He whispers into your skin.
Faintly, you grin, kissing his temple lightly.
“So…” You murmur, slyest grin, as per usual. “Round two, or…?”
Hii!!! Idk who art Donaldson or mark are but your writing is really good!! Could I request a fic that's mostly up to you.. (sorry lol this isn't much of a request) but like. Just one where they're really pathetic (sorry)
don’t apologise babe.. its in the name, its okay ❤️ AND TYSM i’ll cook up something just for u xo … art donaldson watch out…
TAGS :: brett hand x fem!reader, little use of y/n, nsfw/smut, established relationship, sub!brett, dom!reader kinda, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap guys), implied breeding kink bc it’s brett guys cmon, praise, begging, fluffy, i miss you brett hand come home
WARN :: nsfw/smut, mdni18+, guys i lowk skimmed this sorry if there r any mistakes!!
inside job in 2025.... 💔
Brett was - to be simply put - needy.
Perfect. Attentive, charming, doting and reassuring. But so, so needy.
Meeting Brett at your shitty job at Cognito changed your life (for the first time at the goddamned company) for the better. Somehow, you’d wake up excited to go to work and catch glimpses of him in the workplace. Fleeting moments of eye contact that had your heart fluttering, and he’d smile in that boyish way of his, and you would too as you looked away to hide the flushing of your cheeks.
He’s always been the most attentive boyfriend you’ve ever had, and now as your husband, he’s better, if it were possible. 7 years together, 4 years married and going on almost a year since your first child came into your life. He begged for kids, and knowing Brett would be the father of the century, any doubts you had faded when he put on that ring and vowed to love you and every piece of you for the rest of your shared lives.
You smile, gently, seeing the ring on your ring finger against the steering wheel as you pull into the driveway. Getting back into the swing of things at work has been better than you expected. As expected, Brett truly is the father of the century, and offered to be a stay-at-home Dad, while you took up a promotion in your division at Cognito. You miss seeing his face around at work- sneaky kisses, flirty glances, fucking in the bathroom when he needs you too badly. But knowing he’s always at home- waiting, eagerly- keeps you sane.
With a grunt, you yawn and slip out of the car, grabbing up your bag and locking it as you slip past the gate to your place, knowing Brett is probably waiting for you at the door, like he always does when he hears your car pull into the driveway…
Since you went back to work, it’s been… hard to adjust, seeing less of you each day. He keeps up a smile, and he adjusts his schedule to make sure all the chores he does get done between your work hours, so he doesn’t miss you when you get home. He brings your baby girl with you, too, everywhere he goes. Maximum efficiency.
As you turn the key, you hear the usual sigh of relief from your husband, and as soon as the door is shut, strong arms wrap around your waist. Your eyes soften and you smile, returning the hug.
“Hi, baby.” You coo, bringing a hand to his auburn hair. He huffs lightly into your shoulder, already nuzzling his way to your neck to breathe you in.
“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.
You chuckle and let the embrace linger for a moment, feeling him breathe in deeply and press up against you - not unusual, if not maybe a little more intense than usual. But a gentle “da-da” from the living room makes both your heads perk up. You peel away from Brett before you notice his half-hard-on and don’t see his expression as you shuffle into the living room to see your little girl.
Her eyes light up with excitement as she sees you and she opens her hands, crawling and stumbling a little to meet her parents. You laugh softly and kneel beside her, bringing her into your lap.
“Hi, hi,” the baby girl babbles excitedly and her tiny fists clench and unclench on your shirt, squealing with delight. “Hi, cutie, I missed you.” She giggles excitedly in your lap.
Brett approaches behind you and swallows, brushing a hand through your hair, tucking it from your eyes. “Dinner- is, uh, almost ready, beautiful.” He breathes, and somehow his tone slips your mind as you remember the project that’s due at the start of your shift, tomorrow, that you just didn’t complete today. You take a deep breath and smile gently up at him.
“Thank you, angel.” You murmur, shutting your eyes and leaning into the touch. His lashes flutter and he shivers at the nickname, always so weak for your praise, and smiles in that shy way that he reserves for you.
“Of course. Anything.” With a sigh, he turns back to the kitchen. “I’ll finish cooking… you go get unready, okay?” You nod wordlessly, hoisting your kid up with you and holding her to your chest, kissing Brett briefly. He lingers after you as you pull away, smiling dopily, and watching as you slip into the dining room just outside the kitchen, setting your girl into her high chair, and wandering upstairs, bag on arm, with another yawn.
Brett swallows and adjusts his sweatpants as he watches you go, holding back a pathetic sound…
Once you arrive back downstairs, work clothes properly away and pajamas on, you take out your hair and join Brett in the kitchen, seeing the kiddo with her favourite plush, sitting contently in her chair.
“Need me to set the table?” You murmur, coming up from behind and gently putting your hands on his waist, close- closer, lower, if you’d just–
“Y- mhm.” He stammers slightly, feeling you kiss his cheek and pet his hip.
Jesus, this is pathetic, Brett, he thinks, holding back a whimper. He turns off the stove and glances behind him, seeing you grabbing out the cutlery and moving to set the table, making a silly face at your daughter, and his heart aches, his groin throbs.
He’s so, so needy today… he can’t help it. He’s gone without his fix - your alarm was fucked up since yesterday you pushed it off the bedside and the thing broke, and you woke up late this morning. He barely got a kiss before you were rushing out the door, shoes half-on, shirt half-buttoned, hair clumsily pushed out of your face. He didn’t get his quality morning time with you, much to his bleeding heart’s dismay.
You look so oblivious to his struggle, too, as he watches you distractedly. When your gazes meet and you quirk your brows, glance at the stove and smirk, he realises he had business to attend to. “Sorry.” He huffs, slightly frustrated - at himself, of course - for being so desperate. It’s not his right to have you, despite how used to it he is, how he’d never tire of you and your perfect body. His cock strains in his boxers at the thought of you, behind him again- sighing wistfully.
Dinner’s on the table moments later - and as usual, you all sit, your daughter eating (or, more accurately, playing) with some cereal as a small snack before her bed time. You and Brett sit across from each other.
But he’s quieter tonight. He’s in his own head, he’s desperate and on top of that, guilty for feeling so desperate. He eats slow and finds his gaze falling back to you every few moments as you focus on your meal, and your daughter, who you gently scold for making a mess, turning to feed her carefully. You yawn again, and he wants to stroke your hair as you choke around his cock with that slack jaw of yours, he’s so pretty and swollen and pink, just for you, you, you-
Jesus, Brett! Get it together!
He squirms in his seat and looks up as you pick up your daughter.
“I think someone’s ready for bed.” You huff, blowing a raspberry on her head, earning a sleepy giggle from her. She cuddles into your chest, and Brett wishes that was him instead. He just smiles and kisses his daughter goodnight on the forehead, brushing her hair from her face as she keeps giggling, then his lips brush your cheek, earning a smile from you as you slip off.
He stares after you, once you’ve disappeared up the stairs, his lashes flutter shut for a moment as he brushes a hand over his length beneath his sweatpants and god, his body just rocks slightly at the sensation, the pleasure that lets the heat spread through him and he’s so fucked.
He softly strokes his hand back and forth over his dick, wishing it was yours, soothing him, telling him he’s done such a good job, waiting for you, your good boy. He breathes heavily and licks his lips, head slightly thrown back. “Ngh…” He whines, his dinner long forgotten.
That sweet fantasy is broken when you come wandering back into the room, making him flinch and gasp in shock, entirely not expecting you to come back so soon.
“Hey, you.” You chuckle, seeing him startled, and you assume the pink of his cheeks is simply out of embarrassment for getting so spooked.
“H- haha, hey, hey yourself.” He grins nervously and sits up, watching as you lean forward and smirk.
“Did I spook you?”
“O-only a little.”
He’s tense, tenser than usual. The curve of your lip falters for a moment. “You okay?”
“Yep!” Too quick an answer…
“Are you sure?” He usually tells you immediately if something is wrong… and if not immediately, then with a little prying.
“Mhm, I’m all good, beautiful.” He breathes out and offers a little smile. You still feel like something is bothering him, but you slowly nod.
“...okay, baby.” You clear your throat, and noticed his untouched dinner. “Hey, keep eating.” You lightly press your foot against his shin.
Brett swallows. “Okay.” He fumbles for a moment with his fork, and you watch, slightly amused, somewhat concerned. You both eat in silence for another moment. “H-how was your day?”
“Oh, yeah. No, it was good.” You huff slightly. “Boring… same old.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” He murmurs, tilting his head with those puppy eyes that make you melt, convince you he can read your mind, in hopes of taking away a little of your pain to carry with him instead. You smile.
“Don’t be.” You croon, leaning forward a little. He does, too, instinctively.
“I missed you.” He murmurs, taking a deeper breath, and you smile wider.
“You’d better of.” Tilting your head, you reach for his hand. He takes it, without question. “I always miss you.”
The way his face lights up when you say little, romantic things like that will never get old to you. He just melts, where he sits. The two of you sit in silence for a moment as you stroke your thumb over his palm, his wrist, noticing the faster flutter of his pulse.
Your gazes meet and he’s looking at you with adoration. Damn him, those fucking puppy eyes of his. His cheeks are still so pink… your heart flutters and a little realisation comes over you. Oh, you know that look. And you know it well.
He sits up, attentive to your shift in expression…
But you’re maybe not the kindest of lovers out there. You look back down at your plate wordlessly and keep eating to hide the shit-eating smirk that threatens to break out onto your face.
You see the way your poor husband practically shrivels across the table.
“What’d you get up to today?” Through a mouth full you break the silence, somehow startling him again.
“Hm-? I, uh, y’know. Woke up when you did, got ready, got our angel ready, uh… breakfast, chores, lunch, worked out while she played…” He rambles on, talking a little too quick, still a little too flushed. He could talk forever, and you could listen, the way he forgets his food before him as he spills as much of his day to you as he can think to.
“Mhm?”
“She- was really good. Only cried once! Which is- uh, average, but… glass half full.” A nervous chuckle escapes him, as you scrape up the last of the food on your plate with a reassuring nod.
“Mhm. That’s good, baby.” You purr, looking up at him with a small smile. It’s innocent. And for a himbo in his predicament, it’s excruciating.
You sigh, feeling his eyes glued to you as you carefully place your cutlery on your plate, the small clatter filling the silence. “Thank you.” He mumbles, a little quieter, weaker, he’s never not been desperate when it came to your praise.
“Dinner was amazing as usual…” You stand, sigh, picking up your dish and noticing his half-uneaten plate in return. Bending over the table you kiss his head in thanks, his poorly concealed puppy-dog-eyes melting into affection as you do so. “Thank you for cooking, my love.”
Brett is at his breaking point, your sweet words, the tenderness in your kiss - he’s up and following you as you wander into the kitchen. His breath catches as he finds you, bent over the dishwasher to put the plate away. He just— can’t fucking help it anymore.
He presses up behind you, hands finding your hips with a small grunt. You shiver, feeling his hard-on pressing against your ass, he’s always been fond of your ass, anyway.
“Brett?” You coo, in that way that tells him you’ve been teasing. He whimpers, hands clamping needily on your hips.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, leaning right over you, breath tickling your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he tucks whatever hair he can behind it. “Stop fucking teasing...”
He whispers to you in a way that would be so intimidating if it wasn’t him, wasn’t so whiny, so pathetic, so sweet. It’s not a command, it’s a plea. He whimpers as you lean up against him, just to get another cute reaction. He buries his face into your neck in response and presses those sloppy, sweet, pleading kisses he knows you like, grinding.
“Jesus, Brett, not over the dishwasher—” Breathless, you grin and whisper. His hands snake around your waist and before you know it, you’re pressed up on the counter, ass still up as he continues to grind weakly. You moan in surprise, relaxing with newfound support.
He really can’t help himself, he’s back to slobbering over your neck, as if trying to meld you two as one, to let the world know you’re his by his scent, since he can’t be there to remind you and the world at work anymore.
“God, I need you. Please.” He mumbles, clenching at your hips slightly, grinding up a little harder. You shiver, back arching.
With a hum, he whimpers and holds on tighter. “Do you really want it that bad?” You purr, turning to look up at him from behind. He groans under his breath, you feel him twitching under his sweatpants.
“Y/N, g-god, please, I can’t take it.” He buries his face into your shoulder, even still, he tends to get shy at his submissive tendencies. “All day… so hard, been- been so good, I’ll treat you right, m-make you feel.. so, so… s-so good…”
Little rambles. You’re used to them by now, very much so. He gets so desperate by this point, and the both of you love it. Maybe too much.
“I dunno… do you think you deserve it?”
“Yes. Yes, God, please.”
“Been a good boy? For me?”
“Ah huh… uh huh.” You coo, and lightly grind back against him, making him melt on top of you, pinning you to the counter with his weight.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” you breathe after a moment of listening to his quiet whimpers. “you can take it.”
He makes no mistake to hesitate.
In a moment, a blink, he’s pulling down your pajama pants and panties in one go, pushing your shirt up to your breasts. He gropes at the skin that’s revealed, hands slipping under your shirt, sliding over your stomach and sides, cupping the bare skin of your pretty little ass. He groans, you feel the fabric and the hardness beneath, all for you.
“Oh God…” He whispers. Despite his desperation, he never fails to take the time to worship your body, ever patch of warm skin that he can find he needs to run his fingers over, brushing your thighs and squeezing as he moans sweetly into your neck.
Brett always loves to touch where you’re sensitive, the places only he gets to, since they get him a reaction. With every sweet sigh, little moan, mewl, gasp he receives you can feel the twitch of his cock - taunting - in response.
“Worship” is an understatement for the way he feels about you.
“Baby,” you breathe, feeling almost bad for the fact he hasn’t even freed himself yet, and you’re already slick and waiting. “Y- you can… would you take them off?”
Your gentle command seems to spark him to action, like he’d forgotten, your pleasure being all he could focus on. “U- uh huh.”
“Good boy…”
You feel him shiver, his hips bucking into his hands at your praise as he fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants. A moment passes and then the floor beneath you is a pile of fabrics, the tantalisingly beautiful sensation of skin on skin sparking your veins with heat.
His length brushes over the folds of your core, a sweet whimper escapes him as he presses up on you, feeling his tip brush past your clit on his way through. You moan, he shudders, feeling your slick coating his girth, a breathy gasp leaves him.
“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, large hands appreciatively cupping your ass and spreading your cheeks lightly over his cock, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart slightly. He groans against the skin of your neck, panting. “I can’t wait anymore-”
With a nod, his hips buckle and you feel him pressing up against your entrance, one hand remaining on your hips as he maneuvers you. It’s rougher than usual, closer to a manhandle, he’s too pent up. “Ngh, that’s it, go on, angel.” You breathe, feeling him gnaw slightly at your shirt as he pushes the tip carefully in. The two of you shiver in unison, a gasping chuckle escaping you while a strangled grunt leaves his lips.
“Ohh, my God.” He whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. His usual gentle demeanour is there, with a sense of fervour that you don’t get to see so often. He noses at your neck as he slides in, his lashes flutter on the skin of your jaw in pleasure as your walls part for him, tighter than usual without the foreplay he usually insists on providing. “So… feel so good.”
His hands squeeze on your hips as you lean desperately on the counter for support, shuddering as he bottoms out, finally. Your mind slowly clears from the haze of pleasure, grunting under your breath. “Yeah?”
“God, y- yes.” He mumbles, nibbling your ear slightly. This, all of this, feels a little strange - new. It’s been forever since you did anything other than missionary, since Brett is so desperate to look you in the eyes while he fucks you. It’s actually… kind of exciting, refreshing, maybe. “I love… being inside you.”
You groan softly at his words, and as he feels you clench around him, he gasps under his breath and draws back gently, then pushes back in - slow - eliciting another aching sound from your throat.
His eyes are locked on your profile as he peeks over your shoulder, fucking you slow (as he always does at the start), admiring your dropped jaw. You grunt, pretty flushed cheeks catching his eyes, brown practically bleeding with lust and love for you, you, only you. “Fuck, jus’ wanna be inside you… t-take me so well…”
“‘Was made for you, baby, ngh-”
He whimpers. “Ohh, fuck.”
His hands grasp whatever flesh they can reach, fingers brushing lovingly over your sides, lightly grabbing your tummy, circling your nipples as he starts to carefully increase the rhythm of which he pulls and pushes inside.
“Fuck me, s- so good.”
“Mhm?” He whispers against the skin of your shoulder that he pushes free, the fabric of your pajama shirt (one of his old t-shirts he very happily relinquished) with his nose, breathing your scent in.
“Mhm… so good…” He twitches inside you, making you shiver and smile, head tilting back, a sweet gasp escaping you. “Just for me, huh? Fuck me so well…”
“Only you, just you… love you…”
“I love you, ngh- l-love you, too.”
The two of you fuck like you’re in heat, his pace increasing more and more. He brings a hand to cover your mouth when your moans get too loud, so as not to wake the baby girl upstairs, and you kiss his palm, making him whimper, kissing the skin of your shoulder and throat, sloppy and wet as per usual.
He fucks every stroke into you like he’s trying to get you pregnant all over again (which, lets be honest, he probably is. Can you blame him for wanting you home again?), his length brushing and later bruising your cervix with the strength at which he thrusts. He clutches at your tummy and hips, while you struggle to find merit in something to grasp while he fucks you like an animal. His moans and whimpers flood your mind, right in your ear. So pretty.
“A-are you close?” Not exactly. But he’s clearly been needing this. He sees the hesitation in your face, though, and brings the hand from your mouth down, between your thighs. You flush and chuckle, before a… louder than you intended gasp is ripped from you, as he brushes his fingers over your clit.
“Oh, fuck, Brett…” you gently moan, behind your hand, and he smiles into your shoulder, returning to his kisses. He’d hold out a little longer, just for you. He won’t need to wait much longer though, as he makes that fucking figure eight motion, your eyes roll back a little.
“T- tell me when you’re there.” He whispers, like he won’t feel it, pushing your inner walls apart as though they weren’t already molded to the shape of him.
“Ah huh… g- good boy, so good, fuck me so well,” you whisper, leaning your head against his as he sucks a little mark into the skin between your neck and throat, making you buck your hips toward his hand softly. “That’s perfect…”
He nods and noses at your jaw, nuzzling, so loving.
Your body tenses and you gasp, every sound muffled by your palm, a perfect sound for the proximity you share. “Oh, fuck me, please.” You breathe, his strokes slow down a little to keep stroking the swollen bud, as your thighs tremble a little. “I’m close, I’m gonna- gonna, I’m gonna come, so cl-”
Brett groans as he hears you say that, and as your walls clench so perfectly around him, he shivers, gasping breathlessly. He loses his control and fucks into you with a reckless abandon, and only a moment later you can feel him come apart, his hot cum flooding you in spurts, hips rocking and shaking, moaning into the skin of your upper-most back. You weakly smile, mumbling hoarse praises as he trembles.
He paints your inner walls white, trembling as he melts over your back, the both of you softly panting. He sighs sweetly and you smile, laughing softly, while he keeps you plugged.
“Mmh.” He moans softly, opening his eyes to see you peeking up at him from the side, and he smiles back. “Thank you, beautiful.” He whispers, his eyes shutting once again.
“Anything for you, angel.”
He smiles, shy, in that cute way that made you fall in love in the first place.
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