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brilium · 8 months

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❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

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❥ DAY 9. Aphrodisiac! with Nanami Kento

Summary. Nanami has been dealing with a lot of stress at the office lately, and you decided to buy him a naturalist tea that it supposed to help with the stress relief. It seems to help with stress in a very particular way...

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,203.

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

You bought a package of natural tea bags for stress relief. Was it suspicious? Not really. You expected them to work? Also no.

Actually, it seemed pretty normal; a simple box with small bags filled with the usual content.

You gave them to Kento when he drank in the morning before going to work. He seemed like usual; tired, with no energy and half asleep.

That was pretty much the reason why you bought them.

The tea was supposed to help him relieve stress relief, that’s why you give it to him before his stressful routine. You didn’t expect to be one of those teas.

“Fuck! S–Stay still dear!” Nanami groans, holding the headboard of the bed with one hand while the other keeps your waist firmly against the mattress as his hips slam aggressively against yours.

You look at your clothes spreader around the floor, you can't even remember when Nanami got you rid of them in the rush of kisses and make out that he put you through.

The lady at the shop gently helped you to look for a tea that would help with the stress that your husband has been having, since you’re a bit worried about his lack of words and how he skips dinner and goes to sleep. You should have suspected of her smile.

It was a damn aphrodisiac.

You cry in the pillow while he keeps thrusting with an animal fiercely, holding the sheets between your fists as his hip bone spanks against your red ass. Nanami groans fill the bedroom with the skin slapping sounds that drive you crazy.

"God— You feel so good today. I couldn't stop thinking at work about you, dear!"

And, that's fucking true, Nanami felt a weird wave of arousal as soon as he landed on his desk. Suddenly remembering how tight that shirt suited you today, he remembered how your nipples poked out softly through the fabric; and that leaded him to remember your bare body, your thighs squeezing at his sides every time he pounded on you and your sweet blush when you announced that you were about to cum—

God, he lied saying that he was sick because he needed to fuck you. It felt like ages since the last time.

When he arrived sooner, you were happy that, maybe, his boss gave him a free day. But as soon as he started kissing you as rubbing his hard erection against your stomach you knew that you’ll be the tired one today.

“P–Please! K–Kento—” You rest your cheek on the pillow to get some air, even if it’s hard to do it with his weight above yours, thrusting hard. “S–Slow down! Fuck!”

Nanami doesn’t seem to listen, actually, he does the opposite, getting a quicker peace that wins a loud scream from you. Your eyes half opened don’t let you focus clearly, although your complaints since you’re used to doing it more gently with him, you love how his tip hits constantly on your cervix like he wants to leave his mark inside you.

When you start whining against the pillow, drooling on it and starting to dig hardly your nails on your palm, you let out a small whimper of pain that startles your husband.

“D–Do you— Shit! Do you want me to stop?”

The thrusts slow down gently until stopping with some shaking from him, he doesn’t sounds like he wants to stop, even his voice shakes in need of more but his delicacy with you stays even though the way he acts right now melts a warm feeling on your chest.

You shake your head with weakness, tightening your core muscles to keep him inside. Nanami lets out a broken moan when you do it, grabbing both sides of your hips firmly and taking a deep breath.

He caresses your back from top to bottom, trying to control his need to keep slamming on you.

“This is because of that damn tea…” He scolds, going inside again more slowly even it’s a higher pain for his body needing to let out all that contained energy. "I can't even feel tiredness."

“I notice it,” You whimper, tasting how sweetly it feels his length entering again, you push your hips back a little for more and Nanami responds by unintentionally digging his nails on your skin. “Fuck— D–Don’t hold back, please...”

Nanami growls in response, he tries his best to go slow for you but even though he slowed down his thrusts, he makes sure to hit every time with enough energy to make your insides clench around his swollen dick.

You start to love this new side of him, letting out his desires to ruin you and take everything he wants. He's a gentleman, and that's perfect, but remembering that that gentleman is turning you into a mess growls a pool on your aching cunt.

When Nanami’s thrusts start to get faster and harder, you start to taste a sweet electric wave around your body as you keep hearing the headboard slamming on the wall.

“K–Kento! I’m… I’m close!” You scream, moaning his name against the sheets and grabbing them between your fists.

Nanami nods behind you, keeping his peace as he starts to feel how the knot on his stomach is about to release. He pulls you closer to him in a harsh movement and starts hitting harder, when you start crying in pleasure is when you feel a whole shiver growing along your body in the high of your orgasm. He keeps moving his hips in a messier way until he moans sharply as you feel a warmth filling your cunt.

You are breathless on the mattress as you feel the cum running down your thighs, thinking that your husband is in the same state but it takes you by surprise when he grabs you by the shoulder to make you lie on your back to look at him towering you in the bed.

He just came, a lot.

And he’s still fucking hard.

“B–But you just came!” You whine, feeling him rubbing his length along your sensitive folds. Making you roll your eyes at the sensation and having to bite your lip to not moan in response. "Kento—"

“P–Please… Fuck, you feel so warm” Nanami moans quietly between his teeths, putting his tip right on your entrance and you feel a cold chill running through your spine. “If you are still tight maybe I’ll cum sooner and the effect of the tea goes away.”

You know that he's inventing all that, you both don't know how long that effect is going to last but you’re not complaining when his tip opens your walls again.

Nanami starts to push and you throw your head back on the pillow with a pained moan, you are still really wet from the previous orgasm, but also damn sensitive. He hasn't even fully entered but yet it already has you breathing hard and biting your lip.

He grabs your thighs to spread them and has a good entrance to you when he starts stroking again, but it doesn't seem to be enough for him. Nanami does the opposite by lifting your calves to put them on his shoulders as he starts to hit again.

This new position lifts your hips a little more and gives him a good angle to hit on your cunt and turn you into a mess of moans, feeling him hitting on the cervix in such a delicious way.

His eyes travel down along your body from your parted lips crying his name; your tits being squeezed between one of your hands, trying to keep them both stimulated; and fuck, the nice view of your cunt squeezing on his fat cock around the white ring of cum around it.

You squirm on the mattress, feeling like a rag doll in the hold of his strong body.

"F–Fuck! Fuck!" You bring one of your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit to get closer to the second orgasm. Nanami groans at the feeling of your folds hugging him tightly.

Nanami lets go of your thighs on your sides to bend closer to you, but his hips keep slamming on you like he's just started while you already started to feel your body getting sore.

You thought that he leaned closer to kiss you through the thrusts, but he stopped right in front of your breasts to start sucking on your nipples and let them go with a "Pop!". When his hard thrusts make it hard for him to reach the nipple, he just chooses to suck on the soft skin of your breasts, leaving a dark red mark on there.

His tongue drills on the tip of your sensitive bud, biting it softly between his teeths to make your back arch for more. It's when in one of those movements that your vision goes blurry as your hands fly to his back and start to scratch it with your nails.

"K–Kento! Yes, yes!" You roll your eyes, feeling his dick strokes on the right spot between your walls "Right there! Yes!"

Nanami hugs you back to keep you steady as he keeps hitting, feeling your cunt tightening around him. You cry his name repeatedly against his shoulder as he thrusts while you ride the second orgasm.

You spasm under him, trembling and feeling small tears on the border of your eyes as he calms down above you. Even your walls clench around his length at the sound of his hard breathing beside your ear.

"D–Dear… I—"

You interrupt Nanami, pushing him softly to lie on his back beside you. He opens his eyes wide when you use the last remains of your strength to straddle I'm front of his swollen dick, holding the base of it with one hand as you get closer to it.

"Gosh! You gave me two sweet orgasms and you haven't even cum once…" A pout grows in your face, holding his cock to hit it softly on your cheek, loving the way Nanami’s body jumps slightly at the touch.

"Am I that bad in bed?" You continue, passing slowly your tongue flatly from his base to his tip to taste his precum combined with the last of your fluids. "Is that so, Kento? You want me to stop?"

Nanami shakes his head, bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing sweetly as he bites his lip to not scream at the way you tease him with soft licks along his member.

"No… Don’t stop."

You smirk, licking his tip in circles with your tongue before sliding it between your lips and pull back. You enjoy his cries and pleas until you finally decide to take the most that you can, swallowing with your cheeks as he throws his head back with a growl.

It's been a while since you gave him a blow job, so you forgot how fat his cock felt inside your mouth, struggling to take it all as you jerk the rest with your hand as you lick his tip in circles before taking it all again.

But he squirms so nicely on the bed…

You laugh against his dick, sending vibrations that make him cry softly, you keep going slowly until his hands push you down to take more. You gag around him and he growls pleased, thrusting up to hit the back of your throat, making you cry softly as the sound of his guttural moans fill your ears.

"Yes, yes! You take me so well, dear!" It doesn't take longer until Nanami pulls your head back by tangling his fingers on your hair, leaving a thin thread of drool from his tip to your lip.

You look at Nanami trying to get up on his knees in front of you with your flushed cheeks and fucked out gaze. He pumps along his swollen dick in front of you a few strokes until he throws the thick lines of cum around all your face, falling down along your cheeks, mouth and some drips on your tits.

Nanami groans relieved and fall on his knees in the mattress, looking at you cleaning the rest with your thumb to suck it.

"Don’t do that, let me clean you."

"Why? Is it gross for you?" You ask, genuinely. Stopping to look around for the tissues, but Nanami’s head weight on your lap, his broken breathing hits on your thighs, giving you tickles.

"No… I'll get hard again if I see you doing it. I still feel some dizziness from that stupid tea."

You giggle, playing with his hair with one hand as you clean the last remains with the back of your hand, waiting for cleaning it properly later.

"Don’t call it stupid! You seem less stressed, actually."

Nanami groans annoyed, slapping softly on your bare thigh.

"Maybe, but I'm stressed on what medical excuse I'll have to create for my work."

"Just tell them that something in the morning hurt your tummy."

Nanami hums in response, about to fall asleep on your thighs and you smirk before leaning closer to his ear.

"Since you’re not going back to work… Do you want another tea?"

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ithebookhoarder · 17 days

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Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field.

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing.

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team.

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot…

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was.

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master.

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return.

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides.

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage.

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you.

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may.

So, you’d said yes.

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons.

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further.

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.”

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter.

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him.

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess.

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.”

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you.

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people.

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together.

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her.

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk.

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd.

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop.

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.”

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled.

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking.

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked.

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one.

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd.

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field.

“What about female guests though?”

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time.

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.”

“Anthony?”

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.”

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.”

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.”

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-”

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections.

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-"

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice.

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently.

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green.

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field.

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target.

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?"

Oh. You were in for it now.

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl.

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place.

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread.

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way.

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then.

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur.

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy.

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you.

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you.

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!"

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured. Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng.

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations.

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter?

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream.

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly.

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you.

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face.

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you."

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion."

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #Bridgerton

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theonewiththefanfics · 8 months

Text

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back.

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise. But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear. Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

2K notes · View notes

saradika · 2 months

Text

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #ts drabble challenge #din djarin imagine

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

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Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will.

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house.

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage.

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear.

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn��t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove.

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you.

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud.

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness.

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing.

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here)

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor. You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut.

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag.

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands.

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence.

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

#ikea writes 💚#cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #nikto #nikto cod #dark fic #cod nikto #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto

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konigs-left-pec · 8 months

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Scent

A/N: I unfortunately had to start my blog over due to a bunch of stupid things I couldn't fix, so I'm reposting the only two fics I've ever posted (including this, my first ever smut.) Please give me your feedback so I'll know if it's shite. Thank you, babes! ❤️

Rating: E/MDNI. (Breeding kink.)

Summary: Despite having been intimate with you for some time, König notices something different about you and it's absolutely irresistible.

"Oh, scheiße... that's it."

You perked up at the way he rasped those words against the seam of your cunt, distracting you from the way you were aching for his fingers or cock, positively soaked and waiting for him to do something. Anything. You were always ravenously horny at this point in your cycle so this wasn't unusual for you, but his reaction despite still being fully clothed and literally just getting into bed with you was.

"You smell so good. I just-" you heard the clinking of his belt, felt his hands moving against your belly and thighs as he pushed inelegantly at his pants and boxers, "Fuck..." In a fit of possession, rough hands grabbed behind your knees, pressing them back to your chest and pushing the air from your lungs as he dove in straight at the source. He licked and sucked from your clit to your entrance like it was life-saving nectar, the sweetest ambrosia, filling his lungs with your scent as his nose bumped against you, the little hits of sensation lancing up your spine and making you squirm and arch against the bed.

"König, it just means I'm fertile." You said matter-of-factly, a throwaway comment as you stretched with an airy sigh, spreading your legs wider and dragging your nails gently over his neck and shoulders, wishing he'd just get to fucking you. He sat up and wiped your slick from his chin in a way that made your core twitch.

"Ach! I've been trying to figure it out for months." One thick digit pressed into your heat quickly followed by a second, causing you to gasp. You were so wet and so ready it felt like honey pooling in your slit, causing your bones to itch with anticipation.

"Will you let me fuck a baby into you?" He asked suddenly, seriously as his fingers kept on sawing into you, your hips churning slowly in counter. Had you heard him right? His eyes were glued to where his fingers plunged in and out, his other hand pressing down on his hard cock. He looked up at you pleadingly, withdrawing his hand only to place those sticky fingers in his mouth and suck, leaning fully over you.

"You will be so beautiful when you're full with my child, Y/N -" he said it like it hurt, a private confession pulled into the light to be judged. He pressed into you, heavy cock slipping finally through your sopping folds to repeatedly, blessedly bump against your neglected clit, "Bitte, mein liebling."

You had barely said yes before he'd made his first thrust, thick length parting your gummy walls as you threw your head back, hissing out a breath and clutching his shoulders as he rocked deeper and deeper into your aching clasp. He was desperately kissing you, all teeth and tongue as he licked into your mouth like he could steal your affirmation before you changed your mind. Honestly, your mind was pretty useless with the way he was groaning and fucking into you; each thrust deeper than the last, a jolt of pleasure pain on each ingress that burned out your senses and had you bearing down on his cock as you inched closer to your end.

"Touch yourself." Came his strained command, his rhythm faltering and pace slowing slightly as he breathed heavily through his nose, jaw tight as he reined himself back from the edge. Lazy thrusts lit up your belly as you quickly reached between your bodies to swirl your fingers over your clit, overcome with images of a pregnancy and your King with a babe in his arms, a babe with your hair and his eyes...

"m'close, so close, König... please..."

He all but whimpered against your neck, licking a hot stripe up the column to purr into your ear, "Give it to me, mein schatz." He picked up the pace, pressing into something devastating inside you that had you keening, twitching and pulsing around him as you hit your high, gasping into his mouth as he spent himself with a painful sounding groan. He thrust lazily a few more moments, drawing out the aftershocks and making sure his seed stayed where you both wanted it to be. He gently rested above you, holding his weight off of you as he began to soften; he studied you as you recovered, gentle puffs against your cheek and dark eyes set on your flushed face as he hoped you wouldn't regret this.

"You know..." you pressed a sweet kiss to the apple of his cheek, ruffling the damp hair at the nape of his neck, "it doesn't always take the first time."

"I guess we'll have to keep trying, ja?" He chuckled, clearly relieved as he withdrew from your body, drawing you close and lovingly pressing a hand over your belly where he hoped to take root and make his home.

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

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A-Z Yandere Prompts w/ Dialogue Starters

A is for... Appetite

“I want to know how you’ll taste between my teeth.”

“I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“You look delicious. I won't stop until I’ve eaten every bite.”

B is for... Brand

“I’m going to engrave myself into your very being.”

“We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”

“With this tattoo I’ve claimed you.”

C is for... Consequences

“Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to burn.”

“Don’t complain now – you did this to yourself.”

“You reap what you sow.”

D is for... Delusion

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

“Why are you running? I did this for you!”

E is for... Eradicate

“You don’t need a job, baby. Your job is being mine.”

“You’re better off without them anyway.”

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

F is for... Forbidden

“You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.”

“They will never let us be together unless we make them.”

“It’s only taboo to those who’ve never loved like us.”

G is for... Game

“Here kitty, kitty.”

“I don’t know how to lose.”

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

H is for... Harmless

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Why are you scared?”

“You’re the only reason worth living for.”

I is for... Isolation

“Why would you want to leave? I’m keeping you here for your own good!”

“There’s nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone.”

“No one will ever find you here.”

J is for... Jealousy

“If his filthy hands touch you again I’ll kill him.”

“Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?”

“I can’t control how I react when your eyes wander.”

K is for... Kidnap

“You say kidnap, I say date. Who’s really to know?”

“It’s not kidnapping when your soul yearns to be here.”

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now.”

L is for... Lies

“The truth would have just hurt you.”

“I’m not lying – I bent the truth a little to protect you.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

M is for... Manipulation

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

“If you leave me now I’ll die. I can’t survive without you.”

“I told you they couldn’t be trusted.”

N is for... Neglect

“Stop ignoring me!”

“Look at you, you’re skin and bones.”

“If you won’t take care of yourself I will be forced to do it for you.”

O is for... Obsession

“It’s our anniversary! How could you forget? There isn’t a single thing I don’t remember about you.”

“So it's a little crush when you fawn over him but it's an obsession when I pay attention to you?”

“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. You’re all I can think about.”

P is for... Persistence

“To my dying breath, I’ll never let you go.”

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Q is for Quid Pro Quo

“If you do this for me I’ll think about helping you.”

“Well, I guess it pays to have friends in high places.”

“You owe me.”

R is for... Restraints

“I’ll let you go when you understand this is where you belong.”

“Your poor wrists… Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

“The cuffs will come off when you start acting like someone who doesn’t need them.”

S is for... Spoil

“I’d do anything for you, babe. Anything.”

“Is this okay? Did I do well?”

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

T is for... Training

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you.”

“Haven’t we already moved past this? Do I have to train you again?”

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

U is for... Unending

“No matter how long you make me wait, our love will never die.”

“The only way out of this house is death.”

“There is no end. We are eternal.”

V is for... Voyeur

“Don’t act as if you don’t know me. I've been watching you watch me.”

“I like you best when you’re sleeping.”

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

W is for... Worship

“You’re my whole world, my Goddess. You're more than divine, you’re celestial.”

“Let me show you what adoration truly looks like.”

“No matter what you do to me, I’ll worship the very ground you walk on. That's what it means to love someone.”

X is for... XOXO

“I want to hold you but I can’t. Once I do, I know I’ll never stop.”

“I need to kiss every inch of your skin.”

“When we part, every caress becomes more agonizing than the last.”

Y is for... Yearn

“I’m aching for your touch.”

“You’re my oasis. Please don’t leave me thirsting.”

“You don’t know true pain. I’ll show you what it really means to crave something.”

Z is for... Zealot

“You are my religion.”

“Words like radical and extremist are just a pseudonym for enthusiastic.”

“No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

~Feel free to reblog and use~

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forthelostones · 3 months

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𝚙𝚝.𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby, domsub!abby, sexual themes, jealousy, fluff, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, i appreciate you all sooo soo much. happy friday... i am taking a break to focus on my own personal writing!!! so, sorry for the wait, I wanted this to be good and satisfying.

palestinians still need e-sims!!! click the link to figure out how you can donate.

(no y/n)

wc: 3.6k

Monday morning came with a vengeance, collecting you and Abby swiftly. You had been staying in her apartment since you returned home and had no complaints. Abby was always awake before you, getting ready for her day at 4:00 am, no matter if it’s clinical or lectures, her routine remains the same. Although it seemed insane, she thought you were silly for not doing it her way.

She’d roll over, squeeze your lower belly with her forearm, and cradle you into her body. Her nose was tucked in the crease between your shoulder and jaw. This happened around 3:50 am just before her clock sounded, with her small snores tickling you out of your dreamscape. Abby slept with a white noise machine, black-out curtains, a fan on the lowest setting, and a mouthguard. Her tepid body soothed you into the deepest sleep you had ever gotten. The blend of her honey shampoo and vanilla-pine body wash was intoxicating. Something about her presence allowed you to relax and feel protected — it was more than a feeling but a simple truth that Abby would protect you.

“Good morning, baby.” She groaned, words slurring a bit.

You reply with a drowsy, mumbly string of words.

Abby scooted down to the edge of the bed and slid her feet into her thin, black house slippers. She shuffled her feet against the hardwood and opened the door, revealing a black hole in the living space. Abby’s routine has been solid no matter what season of her life she was in. Early mornings lead to successful days and those days lead to a fulfilling life. She had many admirable traits that you hoped to rub off on you soon.

“Hey, come on. It’s time to get up.” She said, placing her hand on your cheek, wrapped in a towel after her morning shower.

“Abby.” You groan.

“Listen, it’s breakfast time, you need to get up, my love.”

Her 'my love' squeezed at the deepest parts of you. Tossing you into a whirlwind of unknown emotions that put a sense of fear into your bones. Her thumb began to caress your brow awakening you to reality. She leans down and kisses your forehead, her wet hair dripping onto the duvet. After stretching, you met her in the bathroom where she was blow-drying her hair. Although the sink was not large, she found space for your toothbrush on the porcelain.

“How should I do my hair?” She asked.

“Why don’t you wear it down? It’ll look really pretty.” You smile, covering the bristles with Abby’s expensive whitening toothpaste.

She ran her fingers through the strands and frowned. “I need a haircut. I’ll keep it braided. Could you give me a haircut later tonight?”

Abby’s icy iris’ shimmered sincerely into yours with a quiet desperation you can attribute to domestication and commitment. You leaned in, mouth minty, and kissed her softly.

“Of course, Abs.”

All nursing students were called into a meeting to discuss the next steps of their career post-grad, which meant passing a HESI exam before the NCLEX. You and Abby arrived at the hall filled with all your peers with matching strawberry protein smoothies. Abby insisted on taking your bag and holding it as you got settled, a sweet gesture that made you shrink once you noticed the other bodies in the room.

“When you go to the library, make sure to give the librarians your assigned access code. HESI books are not cheap! If you want additional materials see me later. Anderson?”

You turn your head to see Abby’s hand raised, a curious look glazed on her face. “So, are their online resources as well that are paid for through our tuition?” She asked.

“No. But like I said I will gladly see you after.”

Abby shook her head and leaned over to you. “Bet these books are from the ninety’s.”

You smiled at her and gently placed your hand on her knee. Her mouth tightened into a smirk. The info session ended and you and Abby had to part ways for the hour-long break between classes. She leaned in with her lips puckered, ready to embrace you. She sensed your reluctance.

“If you’d prefer no PDA, let me know.” She whispered.

You look over your shoulder to the students milling about the building with their faces locked to their phones. No one was looking because no one cared.

“No, it’s fine,” You mutter, planting a kiss on her lips.

“I’m going to the gym, I’ll see you or… you can always work out with me?” She said, pulling away.

“Let me think about it.”

Abby was getting weary of your indecisiveness.

She grins and walks away, leaving you empty, like you did something wrong. It made you question how could someone be so sure about something they never experienced themselves. Commitment wasn’t a common feature of Abby’s life. Her lack of relationships — you would think — should deter her from jumping into anything too quickly. But was it quick to her or just quick to you? You realize you’ve been standing in the same spot for too long and need to be productive with this break.

how was your holiday?

haven't heard from you.

You cringe at the second message because it's true, you two haven’t talked at all since Abby’s meltdown. That night Ellie took you to her place and consoled you. She may have appeared intimidating the night of the house party but there’s another side of her that’s so loving and forgiving — people didn't expect that from her, and neither did you.

“Listen, she just needs some time to cool down. I’m sure it’ll be fine. You need to take care of yourself too.” She said, brushing her knuckles on your burning cheek.

You turned towards Ellie and kissed her gently, melding into her mouth, the salt of your tears glazing her top lip. It felt right in the moment, a distraction. Ellie’s hands came up to your shoulders and enveloped you in a hug. Your hearts vibrated against each other, nursing more tears out of you. “Ellie, I’m sorry—”

“No, none of this is your fault, it’s okay love,”

Her palms rustled against the fabric of your top, warm and firm. You sigh gently into her neck, making Ellie ache for you. You lift your chin from the crook of her neck and press your lips onto the length of her throat. Her skin was syrupy-sweet, glazing your tongue with the taste of her. Suddenly, her waist was in your hands, and your thumbs were tucked into her waistband, massaging her hipbones.

“You want me to help you forget her?” Ellie suggested, tongue clacking in your ear.

Ellie spread you out on her bed, body under the lights still bruised from the night you and Abby had, serving as the reminder she intended it to be in the first place. The way Ellie’s eyes widened as she crouched at the edge of the bed while between your thighs made you shiver. She ran her fingers up and down your thighs, manipulating your curves, grabbing at the places she wanted her lips the most. You struggled under the woman’s grip, fighting the restraints she put on your hands, arms above your head, and wrists tied together with black silk scarves.

The red lights around the perimeter of her ceiling illuminated only the darkest parts of her. The outline of her short, brown hair and broad shoulders dipped downwards to plant a kiss on your belly. You bit your lip to stifle your moans. Her thumb played with the slick between your lips, the pressure waning when she came close to your stiff clit.

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes.” You mumbled.

“Okay, beautiful, don’t worry, just relax, okay?”

Ellie worked you for every last drop. You could barely hold yourself up in the shower as your knees trembled underneath you. She insisted that you shouldn’t bother putting on clothes as you dropped the towel from your body. Her tatted hand tapped the mattress as you crawled over to her. The woman’s body was sculpted and enticing, flourishing with sex. You cup her petite breasts and place your mouth on her nipple as you spread your legs over her thigh.

“Your flight…” She winched.

“What about it?” You sucked.

“It’s… early and it’s… late.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

Ellie frowned and licked her lips.

“Too bad, I’m already soaked.” She said, spreading her legs open and curving her fingers inside.

She moans your name, stretching her hole out on her two middle fingers. Her back arched as she worked her dripping pussy like she was alone. The sight alone made your entire body fiery. Her body slithered on the sheets as she increased the speed.

You spread your fingers onto Ellie’s thigh, and she flicked your hand away. “You don’t get to touch me now, just be pretty and watch, okay?” She grunts.

As the memories played in your mind, you sat on a bench outside the building, on the quad, legs crossed tightly, your thumbs pondering a reply to type. The wind blew a chill against the sensitive skin on your ears, burning them, “Hey.”

Ellie’s face was freckled with light cracking through the clouds. She sat down next to you, hair tucked away in a black knit hat, and wearing a premature glare.

“Hi.” You whisper.

She peered down at your phone, and the corner of her mouth lifted.

“I saw you when I was coming out of the Technology building. You looked cold.” She chuckled awkwardly to fill the silence.

“Ellie,” You start. “I'm sorry I didn’t text you or call.”

“I see what this is.” She takes your hands into hers and blows warm air into the cup of your hands.

“You do?”

“I fall hard and fast and it’s something I have an issue with. Maybe I scared you into something you weren’t ready for, I do that. I liked you a lot, and I wanted this to go further but I can’t keep putting myself in the position to be more for you than you are for me.”

You just nod as she lays a kiss on your cheek.

“I understand.” You reply.

Abby wiped the water from her mouth as she sipped out of her canteen. She noticed Ellie as she walked across an empty lawn, trekking towards you. She stopped in her tracks and watched as Ellie kissed you, her fist slowly curling into itself. The contact of her mouth on your body of any kind was the deepest betrayal she’d ever felt. The feeling of inadequacy pulsed through her as she watched the brunette slowly creep away, peering over her shoulder. Abby never fought, but the image of tackling Ellie to the ground was vivid in her mind.

In the car ride home, Abby played music over the impermeable silence in the car, something she never did. Her thumbs pressed into the steering wheel with a tightness that could snap it into two. The routine felt different as she placed her bag on the floor and kicked her shoes off aggressively. She made an intentional mess, a display of how she was feeling inside.

“How was your break?” She asked.

“What?” You quirk.

“The hour break we had. How was it?” She used her fingers to brush her locks to undo her braid.

“Fine, how was your workout?”

“Really good, finished early and saw you and Ellie keeping each other warm.”

Her hands were on her hips, patiently awaiting an answer. You take your coat off, set your bag down, and walk over to her causing her to step away from you. “Don’t touch me.” She spat, holding her hands parallel to your chest.

“Abby, it wasn’t what you think,”

She raised her brow as to say, continue.

“We broke it off. It’s done.”

Her face relaxed slightly.

“You and Ellie are done?”

“It’s over Abby.” You wrap your arms around her waist and kiss her with a deep tenderness that makes her knees wobble.

“It’s over, but she kissed you?” Abby felt the need to overshadow her blatant embarrassment.

She tugged her lip into her teeth and smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting it. I think it was a friendly goodbye.”

“I should’ve been direct with you.” She admitted.

“Yes, you’re right, you should have. But I should’ve told you immediately when I saw you before class.”

She kissed your forehead, “Can you still help me cut my hair?”

Abby pulled a chair from the dining room table and wrapped an old towel around her neck. She trusted you enough with the shears near her beautiful hair. Before she sat down, she placed the bands where she wanted her hair cut. It wasn't a lot off, but just enough.

Abby wasn’t used to being taken care of. She felt an overwhelming sense of elation. The mixing of her emotions felt confusing yet so clear. When you finished cutting and brushing her scalp, all she could do was smile. “Would you like for me to wash it?”

Abby turned to you and scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. “You don’t have to, you know that, right?”

“I know, but I want to.” You kiss her forehead, and she closes her eyes, savoring the moment.

Abby bent over the tub in the bathroom as you removed the shower head and wet her scalp. The sweet, honey shampoo suds coaxed her freshly chopped hair, and Abby hummed pleasurably with every scratch.

“You okay my dear?” You asked.

“Yes, ” She replied with a smile you could hear.

I’m her dear, Abby thought. She was going to explode at the words alone, but she had to calm her beating heart. She was wondering if she’s pressuring you into commitment too quickly with no warning. But she couldn’t help it, everything about you made her fall deeper every day. You rinsed out the remaining product put a towel around her hairline, and pat her strands dry.

“Ready for your conditioner?” You say, squeezing a glob into your palm.

With Abby’s back against the tub, she just peered up at you, eyebrows damp, practically floating in the shine of you. “Abby?” You laugh.

“Oh yes, yes?”

“Why are you looking like that? Did I cut it too short?” You say, reaching for her ends.

“No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect. Why are you doing this?”

“Helping with your hair?” You snort.

“Not just this, everything…”

You shake your head and begin to apply the conditioner tip to the root.

“I’m serious.”

“Is it a crime to treat the woman I like soo much?”

It was on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t just like you, she thinks she loves you.

“It’s not.” She shrugs.

“Let me take care of you. You deserve it, Abby.”

“I don’t. I really don’t.” A silent slip from her subconscious leaked, and moments like that didn’t happen with Abby. Her eyes fell toward the titled floor. You lifted her chin with your slippery hand, leaving a splotch on her chin, making her giggle.

“I’m not even going to reply to you.” You reply, dabbing her chin with the towel.

“Why do you like me?”

Abby sunk into the floor with her arms around her legs, pulling them closer to her chest. You crossed your legs and laid in the v-shape where her knees connected. “Who said I liked you at all Anderson?” You kid.

She scuffs and hides her face with her hands. “That was a dumb question wasn’t it?”

“No, because I do like you. I like that you’re so precise with everything. But other than that, I love how curious you are about the small things and how that impacts your attention to detail. These past few days, I noticed how you would throw my clothes in the dryer just before I wake up so they’re warm when I’m ready to go. You always take my bag to let up on any extra weight I put on myself, not just physically but mentally too. Rubbing my back until I sleep, soothing me. I love that, Abby.”

Abby knew her face was turning bright red, and she couldn’t hide it.

“You know that, right? Abby? You make me feel safe.” You add.

“I didn’t know that. I kind of think I’m putting a lot on you.”

You begin brushing the product through her hair in sections.

“It can feel like that sometimes when you spend most of your days with each other.”

“I can’t show my feelings in other ways than taking care of you. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Abby, are you listening to what I’m saying?”

She just shakes her head, leaving you wondering what’s going on through that mind of hers.

“Abby. Talk to me.” You beg.

“I like you, I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone before and the feelings are strong and unfamiliar. The sex just intensifies it, y'know. I want to take care of you, make sure you’re happy and overall content with our lives together.”

A string tugged in the lowest pit of your belly.

“But Abby, you do know I want that for you too?”

She retreated into herself, trying to shrink further into the floor. “Part of me wants that too and another part wants to accept it. It’s hard for me to receive it,” Abby felt reluctant to continue. “I don’t know.”

“What were you about to say?”

“Nothing..”

“Abby, please,”

“My whole life, well,” Her voice cracked. “I had to take care of myself. My parents — I never knew them well like I should have. Of course, up until I was maybe six my mom was around and my dad would always be working. I spent a lot of time on my own and I made sure I had to be the best at everything since that’s all I really had, being the best. Other than school, I picked up wrestling, Model UN, and Student Council, and I ran the Debate Team, I occupied so much of my time to distract from the fact that I felt so empty. Like I was searching for their love in other places.”

Her hair clung to the sides of her face, and suddenly she appeared younger, like that little girl searching for love that would fill her up. Your chest became heavy with apparent sadness. You wiped your hands on the towel around her neck and brought your hand to her chin.

“Do you feel like that with me?”

“Anything but…” She grinned lightly.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Yea?”

“I like you, Abby. Just for you, even if you flunk out of school, lose this brain, this hair, and this perfect body, if you wanted to lose the parts of you that you think make you who you are, I would still see you as I always do. Please believe me when I say that.”

Abby felt a tightening in her throat, your words made her feelings bubble over the edge of the pot called her heart. Her eyelids kissed, and a rolling tear tapped onto the back of her palm. She needed a moment, to herself, to let your words marinate in her mind.

“It’s hard—”

“I know,” You shushed her and kissed her cheek. “Let’s get this conditioner out.”

Abby stood in front of the mirror blowing her hair dry in her sports bra and a pair of cotton shorts hanging from her hips. Her face was stuck with a grimace that you wished to wipe from her face. You hug her waist, tugging her abs into your arms coating yourself in the dampness of her bra.

“It looks great. Thank you,” She said, turning off the dryer.

“Quit nursing school to do cosmetology?”

“I’ll support you.” Her eyes narrowed before kissing you, and it felt different like all her desires from the beginning were crashing into you. A frantic gasp left her mouth while your lips wrapped around her tongue. Abby burned with an urgency that you couldn’t quite keep up with. Her chest puffs into yours, fighting for dominance and itching for more of your embrace. Abby leans down to brush her palm up the sides of your thighs, hoisting you into her arms onto her waist. You knew she could throw you any way she wanted, but it became real as you wrapped your legs around her body. You raise your hands to the sides of her face, forcing her deeper into the warmth of your mouth. The thin road of your lounge shorts became saturated with excitement.

Although Abby yearned for you, she was sweet and supple, taking a fluid approach to her desires. She bit the bottom of your lip and sucked on the pink cushion. Her fingers explored the softest places she wanted to bite and bruise. She cupped your ass, pinching it with every lap of her tongue. Abby was levitating above this plane that you both existed on and merging onto a new one where only you two existed. She didn’t want to stop kissing you, feeling the weight of you in her arms this way and when you moved away slightly she frowned.

She noticed your chest heaving, full of eagerness.

“Abby, the HESI exam…” You carp in between the blonde’s kisses trailing your neck.

“I know baby,” She buzzed on your skin, fully aware of her routine of studying, bathing, then bed.

Abby knew school was her main priority, but in her heart, there was a shift to what the order of things in her life would soon become.

#abby anderson smut #lesbian #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby smut #abby anderson #abby tlou #the last of us 2

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rogueshadow1124 · 22 days

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CUTS AND BRUISES

[BATFAMILY IMAGINE SERIES]

Batfam x Batmom!Reader

Summary: when Bruce arrives home from patrol and his wife immediately notices that he's injured, suddenly coming to worry about the boys who also happen to have gotten injured...

Word count: 1756

Warnings: mentions of injury. (Not proof read)

There was never a day- well night that any of the boys came back without injury, they're vigilantes. When the boys say 'it doesnt even hurt' or 'it'll be gone by morning', whether those words are genuinely true or not Y/N Wayne never takes them lightly. Her babies are hurt and she couldnt stand to see them like that, sure, Dick and Jason may be adults but it still doesn't mean she cant look after them and worry for them- that especially goes for Tim and Damian.

Y/N was currently stood at the kitchen counter along with Alfred, speaking about the most random things that came to mind when Bruce walked in, still in his bat suit with his mask off. His right eye forming a bruise and a pretty noticable cut running from under his jaw to just below his cheek bone.

"Oh my- what on earth happened to you. Where are the boys, a-are they okay?!" The Y/H/C haired woman rounded the counter and stalked her way towards her husband, taking a hold of his chin gently as if not to hurt him before tilting his head every which way checking for more injuries.

"I'm fine Y/N, the boys are okay."

"Define 'okay' Bruce." Her eyebrow arched in question, stern eyes setting on his deep ocean blues. Her hands came to set on her hips, body leaning slightly to the right.

"Hm..." his eyes averted from his wife's harsh gaze for a second, he may be batman but even he is afraid of somethings, more specifically his angered wife that had a mean attitude and grudges she always manages to hold for however long she sees fit. "Dick busted his nose and lip. Jason might have broken a rib. Tim fell and hit his head and Damian sprained his wrist, he also cut his cheek."

"You come with me." Y/N spoke, pointing a finger to Bruce who finally set his eyes back on her form. She then turned to Alfred smiling sadly, sighing out. "Please can you bring one of the medic boxes to the lounge. I'll gather the boys."

Her bright Y/E/C orbs went back to Bruce, her hand reaching out to take a hold of his as she walked out the archway and into the front hall where she lead her husband within the darkness- ironic really. When they first met he always said 'she was the light in his darkness.' She came to a quick stop at the bottom of the stairs staring up into the dark abyss, spotting a small tint of light coming from behind one of the doors.

"BOYS. LIVING ROOM, NOW!"

Bruce flinched at the sudden pitch her voice turned to, following behind as she set in a vast walk into the lounge which was the next room along in the large hall. There stood Alfred, placing the medical box onto the coffee table, opening it fully as he started to take out some of the supplies that would possibly be needed as of now.

Y/N pulled at her husbands hand, pushing him back so he slouched on one of the couches. His head tilted back, a low groan escaping his lips at the relief it gave him to be sitting in a comfortable position after a hard night of watching over Gotham city and fighting crime.

"You know the drill darling." The Y/H/C said softly, taking a seat next to him. She leaned over his body, hovering a hand over his cheek to turn it in the direction she needed him to be for her to clean the cut. A hiss passed his lips as she brought down the cotton pad that was covered in rubbing alcohol, comforting words echoed through his ears as Y/N tried to soothe the stinging sensation. Her free hand, rest on his chest gently running up and down in a calming motion. "M'done, jus' need some ice for that eye of yours."

She stood from the couch, footstep sounded through the silence while she shifted around, looking through the box infront of her. She tilted her head, looking to the source of pitter patters to see the boys, each of them bashed up in their own way, her heart clenched at the sight of them- saddened at the thought of her babies being hurt.

"Who's going first?" Dick was the first to step forth, sitting in the spot Bruce was sitting in prior when he moved to get an ice pack from the kitchen. The eldest 'son' plopped down, turning his head to face his mother figure who sent a smallsmile to him, one hand coming to rest on his right cheek while the other raised a cotton pad to swipe at the now nearly dried blood on his cupid's bow, just above his upper lip.

"Thanks, cleaning my wounds never gets old, huh?" The eldest ravenette smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when the woman scoffed.

"Wish you boys would be more careful." She tapped Graysons cheek lightly, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead as he moved to the other couch so Jason could take his place next. A audiable whine left the boys lips, hands going to grip at the left side of his torso, face scrunching in pain. "Oh jaybird, why is it alway you who breaks a bone?"

"Because he's the most insignificant. He's completely useless, Tt." Damian snapped, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk tugging at his lips when Jason shot him a glare.

"Can it Demon." The second eldest snarled back, eyes looking back up at the woman looking to treat his injury. "I dont know why Ma', I'll be more careful next time."

"You say that everytime Jay." She smiled at him, shaking her head. Her hands skimmed over his suit on the injured side of his torso, in which he immediately winced at when her hand made contact with it. "Gonna need that setting back into place. Dick give me a hand."

Dick jumped up from where he sat, coming to stand on the opposite side to where she was standing next to Jason. She motioned for him to hold his shoulders back, her own hands coming down to put pression on the upper and underside of his ribcage on the left. She looked down at Jason who nodded, screwing his eyes closed. As soon as she made the quick movement, pushing down hardly hearing a crunching sound the male yelled aloud, trying to move out of the way in pain and discomfort.

"Fucking shit, hurts like a goddamn bitch. Fuck!" He swore, rolling to his uninjured side to take away the pressure of his broken rib. She had in unzip his suit to uncover is torso before turning to the coffee table to take a hold of a bandage wrap, pulling around the boys torso to keep it in a stable position for the time being.

"S'okay Jaybird, should heal nicer than it would have done now. No patrol for a couple weeks okay?" Y/N brushed a hand through the white streak of hair on his head, hearing him groan out and nod, laying down to rest as peacefully as he could.

Y/N looked over to Tim, his eyes half lidded seemingly trying to stay awake. She strolled over to him, tugging on his arm while sitting him on the love seat next to the couch Dick and Jason were resting on.

"Oh, hey mum. How are you?"

"I'm okay Timmy, now let's have a look at your head, yeah?" She chuckled as the boy nodded, leaning forward so his head rested on her shoulder. Her eyes rolled in fake annoyance, a tut passing her lips, she brought up a hand to brush Tim's dark locks away from the back of his head where she found a gash which had luckily stopped bleeding at this point. "Dami, pass me a bandage please."

The youngest Wayne appeared at her side in seconds handing her the item. She unravelled the end and held it at the base of his neck where the cut stared proceeding to wrap the appendage around the perimeter of his head, tying it back at the starting point when she was sure that she had wrapped it enough. Y/N then layed Tim back in the double seated couch, assuring that her second to youngest was in a comfortable position.

"Al'umu." Her attention was caught by her youngest 'son'.

"Dami, now what am I working with here." She looked down at the boy seeing as she was a few inches taller than him.

"I can assure you, I'm fine al'umu..." his words went unnoticed by the woman as she turned and picked out another cotton pad, applying some of the rubbing alcohol onto the material. She spun back around to face Damian who scowled and went to turn away from her but was stopped when she held his cheek, preventing him from turning away.

She dabbled at the cut on his cheek, the boy didnt wince nor did he show any kind of pain at all. Once she had cleaned the minor wound on his face, she pulled another bandage from the box remembering that Bruce had said that Damin had sprained his wrist.

"Give me your injured hand Dami." She heard him huff but he gave her his injured hand, his eyes following as she wrapped his wrist in the white appendage and tied it off at the end, tight enough to stat in place but not so tight to cut the circulation.

"Thank you al'umu."

"I always take care of you boys, no matter how old you get." She looked around seeing the other asleep on the couches, Dick was layed the arm rest as Jason's head layed on Dicks shoulder, arms slumped over his waist. Tim was layed in a separate seat, legs dangling over the edge as his upper body slouched down and Dami stood beside his 'mother' arms wrapped around her torso as he hugged her with her returning the loving gesture.

"All been seen too." Bruce's deep voice sounded from behind the two making them turn to look at him.

"Yeah..." Y/N smiled at her husband, laying a kiss on his lips when he walked over and leant down to her. A loud sigh came from Damian at his parents affection which made them chuckle in amusement.

#bruce wayne x reader #batboys #batfamily x reader #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #gotham #batman #batmom

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neteyamsyawntu · 8 months

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Kinktober 06

B l i n d f o l d e d

Neteyam x Na’vi!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, vulgar language, dirty talk, P in V, lubed up/oily Neteyam, blindfold play, stimulation, dom!reader, needy!Nete

It was late in the afternoon when you found yourself sat with your legs crossed in the center of your marui, hands busy with your latest concoction of lotion. While you found that you were a skilled healer, you often experimented with alternative uses for specific plants. One of which included a warming sort of lubricant. This had been your second time making this recipe and you felt as if you had finally mastered it. Just as you had released a sigh of satisfaction with your work, your ears flick to the sound of your tent flap opening to reveal your mate, muscles taut and many dark bruises littered his body. “Ma’Teyam you look exhausted, my love.” You coo shifting your position to sit on your knees as Neteyam plops down loudly beside you with a thump, “If Lo’ak does not master this combat maneuver soon, I will kill that skxawng myself.” He huffed, wiping the sweat off his brow bone with the back of his hand. A small giggle softly echoes through the hut as you place yourself slightly behind him, setting your hands on either one of his shoulders, gently applying pressure to the obviously overworked muscles. Your smile stretches slightly when Neteyam releases a strained groan at the sensation, starting to feel the exhaustion hit his body now that he was sat and finally allowed to rest.

“I’m sure it will not come to that.” you purr, leaning forward to place a tender kiss against his temple, your mind suddenly sparking with the perfect way to test your new recipe. “Why don’t I take care of you tonight? Help you ease your muscles?” You ask sweetly as you continue to gently knead at his stiff shoulders, a soft hum rumbles from Neteyam’s chest as he contemplates your offer, before taking hold of one of your hands, and bringing it to his lips, “You are too good to me, ma’muntxate.”. His response sends a warmth through your chest as you look at him endearingly, gently moving away from him as you set out a couple soft pelts on the floor for him to lay down on comfortably. “You know the drill” you muse, kneeling down beside the pelts, leaving an open space for him as you set the bowl of thick oil beside you. Neteyam smiles, giving his own amused chuckle, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips, “Thank you, yawne.” He purrs before carefully moving to lay on his stomach, laying flat with his arms to his sides. “Mhm… I just hope Lo’ak looks as bad as you do.” This triggers a stronger chuckle from your mate which quickly transitions into a tired sigh, “Yes, he is just as frustrated as I am at this point.”.

Adjusting your position, you carefully settle yourself behind him to straddle his thighs, draping his tail over your thigh to keep it out of the way, before leaning into forward to move his braids and kuru from off of his shoulders. Just as you are about to dip your fingers into the liquidity substance you pause for a moment as a fascinating thought streams into your mind. Before long you are lifting yourself from your positions, fetching a thick strip of spare fabric from one of your latest weaving projects. Neteyam raises his head to watch you as you crouch down in front of him with the object in hand, “What is that for?”, “I was just thinking this may help clear your mind… help you focus on the massage and keep those other pesky thoughts out of your head.” Neteyam looked skeptical for a moment, but ultimately agreed, having a hard time saying no to you. With a victorious smile you carefully place the fabric over his eyes, wrapping it around the back of his head and typing it securely. “I can’t see anything, yawne… I’m… not sure how this is supposed to help.”, “Trust me, Nete, it’ll help.”. You say as you lift a finger under his chin to arch his neck further back, not being able to help thinking how vulnerable he looked like this. Soon enough you are moving back to your previous position on the back of his thighs, your hands slipping down to the strings of his loincloth, skillfully loosening the knot to slip the garment from under his body, “Wouldn’t want to stain this now would we?”.

Finally you submerge your fingers into the bowl of lubricant, scooping out a generous amount. With your clean hand you allow your fingertips to ever so slightly drag along the length of his spine, your ears perking when Neteyam slightly jumps at the sudden touch, his senses now heightened with the loss of his sight. Starting on his shoulders you lather the clear substance all over the length of his back, being sure to take your time working it into each tight muscle. With his backside glistening in the dim light of your marui, you begin with Neteyam’s lower back, rolling your knuckles into the space just above the base of his tail. Muffled groans emerging from your mate as you had more and more pressure working the tautness out of his back as you progressively move your way up his spine. “Does that feel nice, ma’muntxatan?” You hum watching as Neteyam practically melts under your touch, “Mmm~” He moans in response, nuzzling his face into the soft pelts below him. You begin a simple pattern of rolling your palms against his back in repetitive motions, with just enough pressure to make his tail reflexively curl around your thigh. As if his own body heat had transferred to your own, you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your cheeks as his pleasured and satisfied noises send a flurry of butterflies to your stomach.

You can’t help, but feel slightly embarrassed by the fact that you were getting turned on from just his voice alone, yet you weren’t in the slightest surprised by this outcome. Absentmindedly you begin rolling your pelvis against his rear ever so slightly in efforts to feel a bit of friction from sitting on his thighs, disguising it as a simple move of your body as you rubbed his back. Neteyam could tell there was a difference in your body language however, yet made no moves to question or stop you. Instead his tail swiped across your thigh loveling, letting his moans slip more freely. You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter by the second, graciously drinking in the view of him all lathered up and slippery, a flurrying sensation flowed through your body, directly to your core. You needed more of him.

“Turn over for me, love.” You instruct in a sweet, soothing tone to which your mate eagerly complys, carefully rolling onto his back beneath your straddling legs. Your eyes trail over his bare chest, his body seeming more relaxed than it was prior to you starting your treatment. Your gaze then lands on his hardened cock. Of course you weren’t surprised that something like this would arouse your mate, but it was taking your better judgment to stay focused and work on his sore muscles first. Collecting another dose of the lubricant on your fingers, you attentively spread the substance along his chest, using both hands to get an even coating, watching as his lips slightly parted at the contact. As your fingers gently trace down his pectorals, his back arches slightly when the tips of your fingers run over his nipples. With your tail now flicking curiously, you can’t help, but repeat the action, letting your lubricated fingers run upwards to graze his nipples once again, now earning a hitched breath from your blindfolded mate. Trying your best to hold in your soft giggle, you return to the task at hand, letting your fingers move downward, moistening his abs with the lubricant, a sigh of relief leaving Neteyam’s lips as you massage his sides. Again you find yourself distracted as his cock lays proudly across his lower abdomen. With your hands still decently moist you trail your fingers down his pelvis, cautiously rubbing your fingers around the base of his cock, not quite touching it, but getting close enough for it to twitch in anticipation, as if his body were begging for it, “My mate, I know when you are teasing me. Please, let me feel you.” He whispers hoarsely as his chest begins to rise and fall a bit faster with the increased beating of his heart. “Relax my love, I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” You muse, finally moving your hands to cup the base of his cock, spreading the warm oil along his shaft.

Another sigh of relief, although this time shifting into a broken moan as you begin to slowly work the lotion into his erection. You gaze with desire as his cock now glistens in the light, looking all the more appealing. Looking up to take a peek at Neteyam’s face, you can’t help, but absentmindedly clench around nothing, seeing how his face is directed toward the ceiling of the marui, mouth hung open, while his sleek chest rises and falls, anticipation coursing through his veins, now bringing his hands up to gently grip into your thighs. “Yawne, please… I need you.” He manages to whimper, his cock twitching needily in your hand as you start to stroke him at a faster pace. “You know you are going to have to tell me what you want, Teyam.” You coo in a sweet voice, admittedly taking joy in watching him struggle.

“You know what I want, yawne…” he says through his moans, sliding his hands up to your hips to pull you forward on his lap so that your mons is just pressing against his standing erection, “I need to be in you, please. Before I take off this foolish blindfold and take it for myself.”. You bite your lip at your mate’s eagerness, letting out a soft giggle as you lift your hips, slowly crawling over his form to capture his lips with your own. He is caught off guard at first, but then eagerly welcomes it with his own hungry pursuit of your mouth with his tongue, yet you pull away before he can get too worked up, “You know I love hearing you beg, Muntxatan~.” You mewl teasingly, as you align your moist pussy lips with the head of his cock before very slowly lowering yourself onto him. His grip on your hips immediately tightens, head falling back to create an attractive arch in his neck, “Ahh fuuuck…” he groans as the tightness of your walls eagerly suck him into you. Your own eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sink lower and lower onto him until you are sitting flush against his lap, mushroomy tip pressing against your cervix lovingly. It was times like this, when the two of you took your intimacy slow, that you were truly able to appreciate the girth and length of his cock, feeling a satisfying stretch even with the help of the lubricant.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Neteyam greedily starts to move your hips back and forth, causing you to place both of you hands on his chest, in fear you may keel over from the assertiveness of his movements. “Yes… feels so good, my yawne. Fuck I needed this…” he moans, chest heaving as starts to slowly thrust up into you, milking every second of being this deep inside of you. Your body now felt completely hot, knowing full well that if you caught a glimpse of your reflection somewhere, your face would be painted in the heaviest blush. Carefully moving your hands along his moist chest, your fingertips find their way to his nipples once more, now tweaking and rolling them beneath to pads of your fingers with more passion. “Mmm!~” he whimpers, arching his back at the sensation, simultaneously digging his own fingers into the flesh of your hips harder, the bucking of his hips following suit.

Your moans echo beautifully in Neteyam’s ears, his own face contorting in pleasure as he can just imagine what your face looks like in this moment, “My yawne, take this off of me. I want to see your face when I fuck you like this.” He groans, bucking his hips harder at the word. Leaning back, you place your hands on his legs, now rolling your hips to meet your mate’s hungry thrusts, “Mmm, but you look so breedable like this, my love~. So cute and submissive.”. The comment makes your mate blush from under his blindfold, ears folding back, taken a back for a brief moment by the bold comment. “Breedable hm? Are you sure that’s not what you are, my muntxate?” He quips back with another hard thrust into your leaking cunt, hitting exactly where you needed him to. His ears perk at the sound of your passionate cry, a smirk growing on his lips as he repeats the action again, “Ohhh, Teyam- fuck!”. You merely hear a confident chuckle in response, a hand lifting from your hips to push his blindfold from off of his eyes, finally able to drink in your look of utter arousal; eyes closed, head rolled back, mouth open as lewd moans cascade from your vocal cords, “Mmmng, you look so pretty on my cock, yawne.” He purrs before his eyes drift over to the bowl of oil beside him, acting on instinct he dips his fingers into the substance himself, bringing his hand to your breast, and spreading it all along your torso.

You shiver at the sudden sensation, yet allow him to continue as he brings his slippery hand down between your pelvises, letting his thumb roll the liquid over your erect clit, coaxing out another shiver as Neteyam starts a familiar pattern of rubbing your clit in tight circles, moving and pulling the bundle of nerves in every which way to get the best reaction out of you. When pulled at a certain angle your body reflexively clenches tightly around his cock, earning a gravely moan from your mate, “Ahh… you're so tight, my love. Are you going to cum already?” He purrs, sitting up to wrap an arm around your backside, pulling your slippery bodies against one another, bending his knees slightly to better bounce you on his lap with loud, wet smacks as your arousal creates a sticky pool on Neteyam’s lap. You nod in response, nuzzling your nose against his own, letting out more and more desperate whines the closer you get. “That’s it, yawne… let go for your mate.” He whispers breathily, eyes closing, brows knitting together as he feels his own release toeing closer.

In an almost euphoric scream, your juices are flooding around his cock, the new warmth fueling his own release as both of his arms encased around you to hold you close to him as spurts of cum shoot into your cunt. Panting in each others air you both sleepily gaze into one another’s eyes. Neteyam breathily chuckles before letting out a strained groan, “I think my muscles need a bit more rubbing, if you don’t mind, yawne.”, “Of course my love, lay back for me.” You coo pressing a tender kiss on his nose, before urging him to lay back with a gentle palm. “No funny business this time. I feel like my body may break if we got too carried away again.”

You merely giggle, following him down to the floor with a mischievous smirk on your face, holding eye contact as you dip your fingers into the oil once again, “And what would be the fun in that?”.

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