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kenananamin · 1 year ago

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Nanami as a girl dad

Nanami is a girl dad, I will not argue or fight on this but if you think he's not... i got news for you ANYWAYS these are my Nanami headcanons as the best husband and dad and what he would do as a girl dad during pregnancy, birth, and actually raising the baby

takes a personal day off work to take you to your doctor's appointments then takes you to brunch and a movie. will hold your hand the whole time

fought HR/managers/supervisors/ANYONE for as much paternity leave as he could get

asked if he could work from home bc he doesn't want to miss a single moment of your pregnancy or newborn baby

sits on the floor to talk to his baby girl and holds your tummy saying that he's holding her hand

made 20 copies of the sonogram picture and kept them all. there's a copy in his wallet, behind his phone case, in the glove compartment, and in every suit jacket pocket close to his heart. he likes to brag about his girls (you and baby)

comes back from the store with more diapers and wipes bc "we need to be prepared"

bookmarks blog posts talking about how to bond with your baby

reads every book he can and asks the doctor more questions than any other dad who comes into the office

will ask anyone he trusts for advice, but gets defensive when someone tells him to do something differently

takes naps with his head on your lap and his lips touching your belly

has two hospital bags ready in the closet but has an emergency one in the trunk... just in case

does not sleep the whole time you're in labor even when the nurses tell him to "rest before the baby gets here"... that gets him more excited and doesn't let him sleep

tells you to dig your nails into his arm if you need to when you start pushing. kisses your entire face when the baby starts to cry and rushes to the nurse holding her to ask if they could stamp the baby's feet on his shirt/gown before cleaning her (a/n: my dad did this with me and it is the cutest thing ever. we still have the gown with the tiny feet stamped on there)

carefully takes off the shirt/gown and immediately wants to do skin-to-skin contact after you hold the baby first

follows baby to the hospital nursery and takes pictures of sleeping baby to change his wallpaper

changes wallpaper every two days bc "she did something cute" or "sticking her tongue out" or "giving me the stink eye"

loves waking up with her at night bc besides letting you rest... it's daddy-daughter time so don't interrupt

demonstrates what tummy time is while she lays on her baby bouncer (you laugh bc it's ridiculous and she's only a couple weeks old)

buys scrapbook and disposable cameras to start an album (the first of a hundred probably)

buys special clips for crib blankets to be tight and immovable around mattress bc he kept reading about possible suffocation

either way, does not like for her to sleep in her own room so he buys an extra baby moses to put in your room

has an extra diaper bag in his car bc he likes impromptu trips to let mommy rest

sulking when he has to go back to work

finds remote job within the next month

sits baby down on his lap while be works and she plays with her toy

throws an intimate 1st bday party first then a second one the next weekend to invite anyone he's ever talked to and brag about his family

literally kicks his feet and giggles with his daughter then stands up to be the most intimidating man to anyone else

tears of joy when you're pregnant again and sobs when they say it's a girl

carries his girls with him everywhere he goes

is proud that he's raising strong women who will learn how to fight for themselves. keeps reminding himself that he's raising the next generation and that fuels a fire deep inside him

let's the girls play with his hair and put all the clips they can find around the house on his head

lets his fingers and toes be horribly painted while he reads the newspaper and leaves the house with those nails

gets teary eyed on the first day of school and waits outside the school the whole day for a week (paid time off used)

can only do simple pony tails and braids but loves waking the girls up, sitting them on his lap and doing their hair while you get them dressed

making cute lunches for the girls with you is one of his favorite parts of the day

likes dressing the girls alike or the same and has a strange obsession with buying them overalls

loves playing barbie with them and lowkey has a favorite barbie

goes toy shopping behind mommy's back and tells the girls that this is the only secret that they can ever ever keep

randomly brings back flowers for every single one of his girls

takes his girls (you and daughters) on group and individual dates

makes the girls sign a contract written in crayon stating they "will love daddy forever"... frames it and puts it in his office

cries tears of joy AGAIN when you're pregnant with another girl... and looks for a bigger house

rips off door side where he was marking the girl's height and puts it in the new house. he did not believe in marking/tracing it on another thin piece of wood and said he wanted the original

takes everyone out for dessert every Friday and checks in on each kid to see how they're feeling and if they're ok

never misses a single game, recital, rehearsal, practice, ANYTHING

takes his daughters to their first self-defense class

does not believe in violence and does not condone it... but will first ask the girls if they won the fight (strongly insinuates that he will be disappointed if someone kicks their ass)

corrects the girls when needed and has a special look to tell them to stop messing around

later goes to apologize if he ever uses the look

will ask the girls for a sleepover and will throw every blanket on the floor to make one huge bed

tells the girls to follow him as he does repairs around the house or on the car bc they "need to know how it all works and how to deal with it"

is shocked when you're pregnant again (even though he likes to do a certain something that leads to babies) but is REALLY SHOCKED when it's a boy this time

reminds the girls that they have to be nice and helpful with their brother

starts all the reading and bookmarking all over again, but his time on how to raise a gentleman

raises the best little dude and let's the girls show him everything he has shown them so far

okaaaay okay i know i said he's a girl dad and a girl dad only buuuuut Nanami would raise the best little gentleman ever. AND IMAGINE A MINI NANAMI?!! ... but he's still a girl dad first and foremost

extras:

would absolutely praise his wife and randomly thank her for giving him a family

will wear a disguise and follow daughters to first date

refuses to parentify any of his kids and wants to let them be kids

constantly reminds them that they only get to be kids for a short amount of time then they have to be adults for the rest of their lives. so be silly

is always down for a quiet drive if anyone needs to clear their head

dreads the day when he will no longer he able to carry his kids on his shoulders

has already made mental plans for every possible situation the kids may create, even the absolutely crazy ones his brain has imagined

is very open w the girls and talks about safety in intimacy

leaves cute notes during bad or iffy days and writes motivational quotes on their mirrors with dry-erase markers

loves when you say he's a dilf

tries to talk to them about the stock market

passes his budgeting king crown to the kids

feels super cool when his kids brag to their friends about him, even puffs his chest a little bit

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vbecker10 · 5 months ago

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The Night Nurse (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (in progress)

Request:

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are the newly appointed night nurse for SHIELD and you couldn't be less excited about it. You have been given the side task of finding out who is stealing supplies from the infirmary. Soon after you start, you learn Loki is the one who has been slipping in at night to patch up his wounds and you confront him about why he can't heal as quickly as Thor. He reveals a dangerous secret he is keeping from the team and you worry increasingly for his safety as the two of you become closer over the next few weeks.

Warning: You asked for angst so I shall give you angst lol but also... some mentions of blood, minor injuries needing stitches, Loki generally feeling alone and isolated, arguing between you and Loki, very brief mentions of Loki's torture, Loki being an ass in the beginning, swearing, a pretty major injury towards the end but no one dies... a romantic ending was requested so of course there will be fluff and cuteness and whatnot it just won't be in part 1 (sorry)

A/N: I really really hope you like this @glitterylokislut! It accidentally got super long and I just went with it so I hope that's okay. Thank you so so so much for sending this request! I love it 💚

You have been given your new assignment by Director Fury and Dr. Palmer and to say you are less than thrilled about it is as understatement. You are officially the first and only night nurse for SHIELD, stationed in the Avenger's Tower. Unfortunately for you, Fury and Dr. Palmer thought you were perfect for the job and it was made clear that there was no room for you to turn down the transfer.

You were doing inventory a few days ago and noticed several discrepancies which you immediately brought to your supervisors attention. The decision had been made to staff the infirmary at all hours and since you discovered the issue, you were tasked with finding out who was stealing the supplies.

So here you are for the sixth night in a row and nothing... not a single patient, thief or otherwise to keep you occupied. Not that you are honestly sure what Fury expected you to do if you caught someone stealing. You aren't an agent and whoever it is has to work for SHIELD since no one else could even access this floor. Very few agents lived full time at the Tower and the ones who are here at night are working. This really only left the members of the Avengers but you can't understand why any of them steal bandages and gauze, it just doesn't make sense.

What is more concerning for you than the specific items being stolen is that whoever it is has been able to avoid the security system. While the infirmary itself has no internal cameras, the cameras in the hall leading to the elevators are all in perfect working order. Fury had the tech support team check and recheck the security system but they couldn't find any glitches or issues. No one had been seen entering or exiting the infirmary on the nights when the inventory went missing.

Maybe the Tower has a ghost, you think to yourself as you finish the inventory checklist yet again. You double check your count and note that nothing is missing. Tossing the clipboard onto your desk, you pull your book out of the top drawer and settle in for what you assume will be another long, uneventful night.

About five minutes later, you hear something coming from the main section of the infirmary and get up from your seat. Holy crap! There's actually a thief, you think as you leave your office quickly.

You stop short when you see Loki rummaging through one of the metal cabinets, one that you know you had locked only minutes ago. "What are you doing?" you ask him. How the hell did he get in here? you wonder. You hadn't heard the door open.

The tall prince looks up a bit startled by your sudden appearance but he doesn't respond.

"I'm not allowed to let you take supplies," you tell him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You hadn't been prepared to confront a god, you had hoped it was some young agent who didn't know the rules or an older one who was too cheap to buy band-aids.

He curses under his breath in what you assume is Asgardian and slams the cabinet closed. He glares at you and turns to leave.

"Wait, do you need help?" you ask noticing the items in his hand are for stitching a wound and there is a hastily wrapped bandage on his left forearm.

"No," he answers in a harsh tone.

You put your hand on your hips and say, "You can let me help you or you can leave. If you leave, you can't take the supplies. I'll have to report this as theft of SHIELD property to Director Fury."

"Fine," he grumbles and walks towards you slowly. You point him towards an exam table and roll over a stool then you take the items he gathered, setting them out on a tray next to you. He watches you intently while you work, you aren't sure if he is trying to make you uncomfortable but it is clear he doesn't trust you.

How the hell did he cut himself like this? you ask yourself as you open all the tools you will need. And what is he doing here anyways? He has accelerated healing, the same as his brother. He shouldn't be bleeding this-

"Thor is not my brother," he corrects you. "And the manner in which I was injured is none of your concern, mortal."

You sit back and look at him angrily, "Get out of my mind. You know you aren't allowed to use your telepathy on SHIELD employees." He shrugs at your outburst but sits quietly while you finish closing his wound.

"Done," you say when you add a bandage over the closure. You snap off your gloves and push your stool away from him. You can't imagine he will thank you for your assistance so you add, "You're welcome, now get out. I have to clean up."

You turn away to pick something up and suddenly feel as if you are alone. When you look back towards the exam table, he is gone. You shake your head in confusion and walk over to open the infirmary door, the hinges creak loudly as it swings open and closed.

A few days later you are completing the last of your paperwork just as someone knocks on your office door. You gasp in surprise and nearly drop your coffee, looking up to see Loki standing in your doorway. He is holding his right bicep and lowers his gaze to the ground in front of him to avoid eye contact with you. His demeanor is completely different then the last time he was here.

"Would you help me?" he asks almost as if he expects you to say no.

You sigh and nod, "Of course, it's literally my job... even if the person who needs my help is an ungrateful ass."

He flinches at your harsh tone and says, "I am sorry I was unkind to you last time I was here."

"You were a jerk," you tell him flatly, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair.

"I was," he says to your surprise. "I apologize for my behavior, it was uncalled for."

"Accepted," you say, not wanting to waste anymore time since you could now see blood begin to seep through his fingers.

He sits on the exam table you motion towards and begins to unbutton his dress shirt. You turn towards the cabinet to grab the things you need and when you look back you are struck by how annoyingly hot he is. You quickly remember that he can and will read your mind so you try to push the thoughts away but you are not fast enough. Loki looks down as he folds his shirt and places it next to him, the corner of his lip curling into a smile.

"Okay," you clear your throat. "Let's see what you did this time." He moves his hand and you see the long gash on his bicep. "Wow, you did a pretty good job on this."

"Yes, I thought the bleeding had stopped but it began again so I thought I should come here" he says.

"Good thing you did. It's going to need a lot of stiches, more than last time," you inform him. "Do you want anything for the pain?" you ask when to get up to grab a few more things from the cabinet.

"It doesn't hurt," he shakes his head.

"Really?" you ask, not sure if you believe him but you don't press the issue.

You sit close to him on your stool and begin to work on his arm quietly. Loki doesn't make a single sound or move an inch while you clean and stitch his wound. You reach for the tray to grab something and realize he is watching you again but this time he's studying you and not your work.

"So what happened?" you ask him. You are fairly certain he wasn't sent on a mission this week.

"Training with Thor," he says simply.

You nod, sensing that he won't give any more details even if you continue to ask him questions. You glance over at his right forearm and pause mid-stitch when you don't see the injury you treated last time.

"It healed," he answers before you can ask what happened.

"Stop reading my mind," you tell him and go back to what you were doing. He doesn't respond and you assume that means he doesn't intend to listen to you. You decide to search your mind for a song that can easily get stuck in a person's head, hoping that if he does go sifting through your thoughts he will at least be annoyed. It might be childish, but it's the best solution you can think of at the moment.

You look up at him when you are finished, sitting back on your stool you say, "I know the other day wasn't the first time you snuck in here." He tightens his jaw and gets up from the table, buttoning his shirt without saying a word.

"Are you the one who's been stealing supplies?" you ask him even though you know he is. He ignores your question but you don't think it is because he is being rude like last time. He almost seems distressed that you know his secret so you add, "I didn't tell anyone it was you."

"I know you didn't," he finally responds. "I assumed Fury would have spoken to me if you had." He is silent for a moment than he says, "Thank you," before turning to leave the exam room.

"Wait," you follow after him. "I can't keep hiding this from Dr. Palmer and Director Fury. They are going to want to know who was taking the supplies."

He turns to face you, "Why didn't you tell them it was me?" His curiosity seems genuine, as if he fully expected you to turn him in the first time you saw him here.

"I'm not sure," you shrug. "I guess I wanted to talk to you about why first you were doing it but then you pissed me off and I just wanted you out of here as soon as possible."

He nods, "Again, I apologize for how I spoke to you. I was not expecting anyone to be here but that is not an excuse."

You are stunned by the second apology and the abrupt change in his attitude since last time. Maybe I'll have a better chance of finding out why he is clearly not healing well now.

"I would rather not discuss that tonight," he says as he walks away from you and you know he read your mind again.

"Loki, I can't pretend I don't know it's you for much longer. Fury is going to want to know why the supplies are missing. It's the whole reason I'm here this late," you tell him.

He puts his hand on the door to leave and looks back at you, "I know you do not owe me this but please, do not tell anyone... at least not yet."

You sigh, "Fine, but this is the last time."

He nods and you watch in awe as he simply vanishes from sight. So that's how he gets passed all the cameras, he can just disappear?

It's been a week since you've seen Loki and after the fourth day you had decided he wasn't going to come back. You hope you will be able to finish out the next few weeks without any additional discrepancies in the inventory and things would go back to normal. Just as you are about to open your book, you hear him call your name and you roll your eyes. Of course he's back, nothing ever works out simply for me.

You walk out of your office to meet him, expecting to find the God of Being Annoying and Evasive needing a handful stitches like he has the last two times he visited but he appears fine. "Hi again," you greet him with the least excited tone you can manage.

He grimaces and takes a few steps towards you but falls, grabbing his side tightly as he collapses onto one knee. You move quickly to grab him but don't see anything wrong until he moves his hand and his illusion flickers. There's blood on his hand but it vanishes then appears again when his magic gives out. His shirt is covered in blood and you hold onto him, helping ease him to the floor.

"What the hell happened?" you ask trying not to panic. You remember your training and move his shirt to the side so you can see the injury clearer. He flinches when you press his hand on the open wound and tell him to keep it there. "Shit," you mumble a curse then get up to grab everything you need.

You kneel next to him and take care of his wound as quickly and cleanly as possible, stitching the long, deep cut closed. Thankfully it wasn't any deeper or you might have needed to call for help, the wound was too close to his lung to not be taken seriously. When you finish you help him sit up slowly and he uses his magic to clean the blood off his clothing.

"You need to stay here and rest," you urge but he shakes his head no.

"It will heal," he says and he tries to get up. You help him so he doesn't hurt himself further but you keep your hands on his arm. "Thank you," he tells you then takes a step away from you but you don't let go.

"Stop," you get his attention. "You can't leave, this wasn't just some little cut. You were stabbed really close to your lung. This isn't okay Loki, you're not fine."

He takes a deep breath as if to prove his lungs are clear and says, "I appreciate your concern, Y/N, I truly do but I need to deal with this on my own."

"No you don't," you argue. "Just tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help."

He shakes his head, "You are an excellent healer but this is beyond you."

"I don't get it, why are you getting so badly hurt. I thought you had accelerated healing abilities like you bro- like Thor," you correct yourself before he has the chance.

He gently rests his hand over the wound on his side and tries to reassure you. "I will heal, it just takes a bit longer than it used to. Thank you once again for your help Y/N," he says before he vanishes.

Three nights later, you are sitting at your desk looking down at your tablet while you drink your second cup of coffee. You've clicked on Loki's file but haven't opened it yet, your fingers drumming on the desk rhythmically as you think. You have treated him several times now so it isn't a violation of his privacy to view his chart but for some reason it feels like it is. You sigh and open his file, maybe whatever he is hiding from me is in here.

You intend to skim his chart then log his recent visits like you should have been doing but you pause completely confused. His file is almost blank, his name and general information has been filled out but there is not a single visit to the infirmary listed. How is that possible? He must have been able to heal at one point but he doesn't seem to be able to anymore.

You exit his file without adding anything, determined to talk to him the next time you see him. You only need to wait fifteen minutes before he knocks softly on your office door.

"Loki, are you okay?" you ask, your voice has more concern than you meant.

He nods and holds out his hand when you walk towards him, "It is only a small wound tonight."

You look closely at the back of his hand and agree, he will only need a butterfly bandage or two and some gauze. You hold his wrist gently and lead him into one of the exam rooms. Loki sits on the table and you roll your stool close to him with your tray of supplies next to you.

"What happened?" you ask, reaching for the tape and he hands it to you, "Thanks."

"A training accident," he says and you nod, unsurprised.

"I need to log this into your file," you say as you throw out the garbage. "The other injuries too," you add.

"I would rather you didn't," he says.

"I know but I need to, it's proper procedure. I could get in trouble if I don't," you explain. "I could lose my job."

He sighs and remains seated on the table. You sit on the stool again and move closer to him. "I'm sorry, I never meant to cause you trouble," he says.

"Well... maybe if you tell me what's going on, I can keep it out of the record," you suggest. He looks up at you as you can tell he is thinking about your suggestion. "I can't tell anyone what we talk about, if that's what you're worried about, doctor - patient privilege and all," you explain with a smile.

"You're a nurse," he says, but his tone isn't condescending like it is when some people call you a nurse, it is as if he is simply clarifying a fact.

"Yeah... it's the same concept," you sigh. "Loki, you can trust me. I don't want to see you keep getting hurt like this," you tell him honestly, touching his hand lightly and he looks into your eyes.

You aren't sure if he is reading your mind or not but finally he says, "You must promise me, no one will know what I am going to tell you."

"I swear," you agree.

Loki shifts uncomfortably on the lightly padded table and looks down at your hand over his. He sighs deeply then says, "I cannot heal the same way Thor does, I have never been able to."

"What!?" you ask unable to hide your shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that but... I don't understand."

He says, "Accelerated healing is an Asgardian trait and I am not a full Asgardian, I am half frost giant. When I was a child, I thought I healed slowly simply because I was smaller and weaker than Thor but now my lack of abilities makes sense."

"But how did you hide it all this time?" you ask. "Someone must have noticed you were always getting hurt."

"My mother helped me," he explains. "She taught me to use my magic to create illusions to hide my injuries and dull my pain. When I was alone, I would use my spells and potions to heal myself."

"And no one knows, not even your brother?" you ask in disbelief.

"Not even Thor," he shakes his head.

"But wait... so this was obviously working fine for the last thousand or so years, why isn't it working now?" you ask confused.

"There is something wrong with my magic," he tells you and your heart sinks. "It has been fading since I was taken by the Mind Stone."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Series Masterlist

Summary: When Jake is tasked with taking his kids this festive season, he never though he’d get a call in the middle of the night that would change his life. Marriage is tougher than it seemed on paper—but whats harder than accepting your marriage is crumbling around you is watching you ex wife slowly fade away.

Warnings: Character Death. Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ANGST. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Author Note: Masterlist subject to change as series is still a work in progress. Descriptions, word counts and titles may vary.

-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis] The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? You’d been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? It’s simple really— You don’t. (Out Now) 2.1

-> Chapter Two: [Chemo & Charisma] Jake arrives in Rhode Island to accompany his three kids back to Houston Texas the next morning. He expects it to be slightly awkward, but something he doesn’t expect is to be cryptically seduced by you—his ex wife. (Out Now) 4.6

-> Chapter Three: [V For Vendetta] When your stomach can’t handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward. (Out Now) 4.5

-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance] Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake. (Out Now) 4.1

-> Chapter Five: [Why Do They Call It Love?] Jake spends time with his side of the family and your kiddos in Texas. The lies quickly come to an end though when an overworked and overwhelmed nursing student makes the wrong call to your not so emergent contact. (Out Now) 5k

-> Chapter Six: [Chaos & Conflict] As panic consumes Jake after finding out about your current medical condition, Jake calls your mother to fill in the gaps. Nurse Lydia escapes being taken to her supervisor and Jake lets lose on his mother who tries to stop him leaving. (Out Now) 4.4k

-> Chapter Seven [Faucet Failure] Jake makes his way back to you after finding out the truth. While under sedation to give your brain some rest, you remember the good times and the bad with your husband. (Out Now)4.6

-> Chapter Eight [Oh, Honeybee] Jake can’t accept why you’d keep such a life threatening situation a secret and you can’t accept why he suddenly seems to care. (Out Now) 4k

-> Chapter Nine [The Pomegranate Theory] Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book. (Out Now) 4.3

-> Chapter Ten [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?] Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time. (Out Now) 4.0k

-> Chapter Eleven [The Man] When Jensen and Jake butt heads over who’s what to you, it blows way out of proportion to an extent so high, that Jake lashes out. (Out Now) 5.6

-> Chapter Twelve [My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys] (December 2024)

-> Chapter Thirteen (December 2024)

-> Epilogue (December 2024)

New Chapters Coming December 2024

#was it over? // jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin series #jake seresin imagine #TopGun hangman #topgun fanfic #tw: cancer #tw: breast cancer #tw: stroke

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zvhiux34 · 19 days ago

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(Pic: GRVHHHV)

Pairing: König x virgin reader.

Plot: You finally want to go further with König, but he made you a crazy proposal.

W.c:1.5k.

warnings: Descriptions of wounds, Angst, fluff. Age gap+10 years (She 18yo, König 30yo). Sexual inuendos. Eventual smut. English it's not my first language.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 Pt.7

The next day, after doing the last tests to rule out further damage, you proceeded to change out of your medical gown. But not only did you discover the clothes you wore when you arrived were torn... and covered in blood.

But the extra time König took to go to breakfast, he used to buy your medicines and even extra clothes for you.

You didn't hide your surprise when you saw several sets of underwear inside one of the gift bags.

You looked at him to find an answer.

—König, did you choose it? — You asked him while taking out some black lace panties from the bag. At this point, you were more amused than embarrassed.

The soldier, on the other hand, who was blushing, clarified:

—It's not that I know much about women's clothing...the salesgirl helped me choose with the description I made of you.

Just as he didn't say anything while the doctor was in the room, he didn't object when you decided not to file a complaint when you were discharged.

Although, you thought you saw him open his mouth for a moment, but in the end he didn't say anything.

After leaving the hospital, König took you to his apartment, which you entered with such familiarity that you went to the singular room and lay down on the bed, in which you slept all day as if you had not slept all night.

The smell coming from the food woke you up, and you were surprised to see it was nighttime when you left the room, each step you took echoed the pain in certain parts of your body.

—I see that my sleeping beauty finally woke up—The soldier declared as he leaned to placed a kiss on your forehead —Are you hungry?

You nodded as you sat down, König served the food for both of you. While you ate, you remembered that at you had a job.

And that you forgot to inform them that you could not attend until you recovered from your injuries.

Of the things you left behind at your ex-house, the only thing you were able to keep was your cell phone on your pocket

You wrote to your supervisor about what happened, attaching the pictures of the exams, keeping in mind that what happened to you was partly his fault. You at least hoped he felt some remorse.

But when he replied to inform you that you were fired for missing today, you didn't find enough strength to fight back, not even by text.

You would have to look for another job.

But you were going to wait until you were completely healed, certain parts of your body still hurt when you walked.

So you were going to ignore the thought that urged you to solve the problem on your own.

Just as you wanted to ignore the pain when you offered to wash the dishes.

—Don't worry about that, love, I'll take care of everything—He assured—You should keep resting.

You took the opportunity to take a shower. As you put on your pajamas with some difficulty, you could see in the mirror the purple bruises that were scattered on your belly, your arms, your thighs...

The simple image of everything your body has been through made you sigh.

In the distance you heard König answering a call.

You took the bottle of ointment to the bed, on which you delicately lay down and then lifted the fabric to your ribs, and spread the cream on the bruises.

The soldier knocked on the door to enter, and passed through it when you told him to come in, freezing at the sight of your wounds.

You realized that it was the first time he saw your half-naked torso.

—Haven't you seen them?

—No —He stated— When the nurses treated you, one noticed that I was bleeding from my arm, and they took away me to treat me.

The soldier slowly approached you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

—Can I? —He pointed at the bottle of ointment.

—Sure—You gave it to him gladly. König dipped two fingers into the bottle and gently placed them on each of your bruises, sliding delicately in a circular motion.

You watched him as he did the work, easily, it was the most intimate position you had shared so far.

You felt the tickling under your skin from the trail his fingers left, and for a moment you wondered what would happen if König slid them lower, much lower.

You prayed that your cheeks wouldn't burn so intensely from such a thought.

Although at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to know what the soldier was thinking right now.

Would he imagine the same scenarios as you?

When he finished, he placed a kiss above your navel, smoothed your shirt, and lay down beside you on the bed. You took the opportunity to sit down, and placed his arm that your father had injured with a broken bottle on your lap.

—I've received more painful ones.

—Sure you do.

—Seriously, love —He insisted—This is just a scratch.

You looked at the set of stab wounds scattered on his strong arm, without a doubt the one that received the most attention was one that was sutured, the rest were, as König insisted, just a scratch.

You got up to look for his ointment, and upon finding it you returned to your original position, and proceeded to spread it on the deepest wound in a delicate manner, feeling under the tips of your fingers the thread that held the wound together, which would soon heal...but would leave a scar.

A permanent reminder of what the man who was supposed to protect you did to the one who protected you with his life.

You held back the tears in the barrier of your eyes. When you finished you proceeded to rest your head on his chest, while he brought you closer to his body with his arms.

Something inside you wondered if the soldier, always brave, always strong... ever had someone to take care of him, if someone had cared enough for him to heal his wounds with love.

If at any time he allowed himself not to be strong, nor brave.

Because when you finished spreading the ointment, König looked at you with such devotion as if no one had ever done that for him before. And that possibility made you feel sad.

König has always taken care of you all this time, giving you much more than you could have expected.

You wanted to give back to him in some way, now and always.

But before your hand, which rested on the soldier's abdomen, was ready to go lower. König pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket, and opened it with one hand in front of you.

It was a diamond ring.

You turned to look at him, incredulous.

König had a smile that he couldn't contain.

And you discovered that you shared the same emotion.

—My princess, I bought the ring thinking of giving it to you in a few weeks, but... —He swallowed— I just receive a call, I have to go back to a new mission in less a month... a dnagerous one.

You didn't know you could harbor so many emotions at the same time as you do right now...The immeasurable love you had for the man in front of you, and the fear of losing him in a cruel twist of fate.

—That's why I wanted to give you the ring now, I know it's not a very appropriate moment, but anyway I probably wasn't going to hold back —He chuckled— And I just wanted to take the memory of your "I do" to the battlefield, to return with the same emotion with which I left.

You had nothing else to think about.

You pounced on him, forgetting the pain in your body, and began to kiss one of his cheek, then another, and so on.

He was now your true fiancé.

—If that will make you come back safe and sound…So be it—You assured him with a bright smile drawn on your face —But I have one condition.

—At this point, dovie, I would give you my own life—Replied König, who held you over him joyful, with both cheeks flushed.

—Let's get married this week —You sentenced.

You saw gow the soldier's breath catch, and for a moment you regretted going too fast. But he recovered in a heartbeat, looking ecstatic.

—If I could, we would get married today

—Then... I do— You answered as König slipped the diamong over your delicate finger, just to held you closer and catch your lips in a long and enveloping kiss.

—There's no person happier than me in this world, meine Liebe— He assured, while catching his breath.

—Well, spoke for yourself—You replied, with a grimace on your face, you saw how König was overcome with concern—Now I'll have to fight with all the ladies who want to flirt with you.

You both let out a loud laugh that filled the entire room.

M A S T E R L I S T

#könig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig x you #fluff #call of duty #könig cod #cod mw2 #konig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #cod mwii

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bengals-barnesbabe · 3 months ago

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FYS (Babe's Version)

Pair: FB! Joe Burrow x Black!Nurse Reader

Descr: Just the reader's view of the events in 'Fuck Your Status,' no major changes to the plot. But more insight on how she feels about their "relationship.” Also it doesn’t matter which one you read first :)

TW: MDNI 18+ | smut, protected sex, p-in-v, jealous and possessive traits, bratty behavior, drinking, self centered!Joe.

OG Version | Main Masterlist | SCS

WC: 1615

‿̩̥̩ ‿̩̩̥͙̽ ‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You got Higgins’ text when you were sitting on the couch binge watching ‘Living Single’ with a glass bottle of wine. It was a simple, ‘come celebrate wit us’ text, but it meant so much more. It meant along with seeing one of your closest friends, Joe Burrow would be there.

Ugh, just the thought of him made your core clench.

That name brought intense, lustful downright nasty flashbacks to your mind. It’s been a while since you hooked up, but all the memories are still there, engrained in your brain as some of the best fucking sex you’ve ever had.

Walking into your closet, you knew there was only one choice for tonight. Joe’s already seen most of your party dresses, so the new lacy black skintight dress that you got at the mall last week was the winner. It fit like it was painted onto your body, and the low v-neck did wonders for your rack. You paired it with black red bottom pumps and a glossy red lip. Then rubbed some shimmery body butter into your skin. Spritzing yourself with a sweet musky Arabian perfume, you were smug looking at yourself in the floor-length mirror.

Your hair was already done, so you just took it down from the bun you had it in a few hours ago for work. Today was one of the rare days that your supervisor sent you home because of a scheduling error and you were not complaining.

Since the dress you were wearing didn’t require a bra, you just switched out your boy shorts for a pair of lace panties that matched your dress. Not that they’d last very long.

Drinks plus you and Joe meant they wouldn’t stand a chance, they’d either get too wet or he’d tear them off. You didn’t mind either, he’d be paying for new ones if he wanted to keep this little arrangement up.

Since black was already the night’s theme, you picked out a cute little clutch to go with the fit- not forgetting to slip some protection in there as well. It’s that kind of night, there’s no shame whatsoever. It’s time to have some fun.

You beeline straight for the bar once you get past the bouncer. Being friends with the starters has its perks.

Apparently, because they won a big game all the drinks were based on the Bengals. Which made sense, if you were into that type of thing, which you aren’t.

You asked the bartender for something fruity but strong, with a non-medicinal cherry flavor. You didn't need much after the half empty bottle of red wine you left at home. Your drink was delivered at the exact moment you locked eyes with him. It was like he was your prey, when by the end of the hour it’d definitely be the other way around.

A flirty smirk pulled at your features and you held the drink up. He copied your gesture and knocked back the entire glass.

You took this time to admire his casual fit, like most guys here he keeps it simple. Dark jeans, plain white tee, a jacket and probably a nice pair of sneakers- maybe even Jordans. But the thing about Joe is it doesn’t matter what he walks in with, his aura is unreal. He always has a pair of glasses on, and his face card never declines- unless he’s mid throw.

Don’t get started about his legs, you could shiver just thinking about his meaty thighs and how good they feel rubbing against your pussy. He’s fucking different alright. If he took off the damn jacket you’d just drool at his arms all day and his fingers- its getting really hot in here.

You left the bar and found an empty restroom that luckily only had one stall. Leaning your arms on the sink you chuckle at the mess you started, but have no desire to finish.

Has it really been that damn long since he was inside you? Yes.

Are you about to lure him into this nasty ass bathroom? Hell yea.

You slide the lingerie down your legs and let out a sigh as the cool air blew over your wet folds. The crotch of the panties is soaked all the way through, you should feel ashamed for letting him affect you this strongly, but you don’t.

Your close friends that aren’t Bengals, think you’re just using his fame to get free shit out of him. Sometimes you let them think that, because the truth is much worse.

You went from not needing a man for anything to needing him in order to relax. You were always the type of person that took their work home with them and after your last breakup, that work consumed you. Somehow hooking up with him allowed you to reach deep and lose yourself in the immense pleasure he was giving you. He could make you forget about all the horrors of nursing, being the first-born daughter, and all of the other anxieties you faced. It truly was some magical dick.

You swapped the panties for your phone and dropped the lace in your bag on the floor. Then shot him a quick text.

To: JB🤤

Miss me

Like always, the short thread consisted of him being a dick and you teasing the shit outta him, actively trying to piss him off. By the end you give him your location and prepare to relinquish all control to him.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long, as soon as you heard that strong knock you pulled him in. You were very pleased to see he did in fact abandon the jacket, the veins on his arms presenting themselves beautifully on his ivory skin. Looking up you smirk at his inability to bring his usually cocky self back at the moment.

“I did not invite you here so you could just stare at me. That’s what Instagram’s for. I already know how fine I look, Higgins beat you to it.”

The quarterback’s eyes finally meet yours and you feel flutters in your stomach as he stalks up to you. You bite your lip as he traps you between his body and the porcelain sink. His big hands clutch your waist and his mouth leans down to the shell of your ear. “If I hear his name come out of your mouth one more time, I’ll make you choke on it.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his husky voice, knees threaten to lock up and give way to gravity if he didn't already have you in his grasp. Your hands clench on the sink as you begin to regret taking off your underwear so soon. All you can feel is the heat radiating from his body and the slick threatening to drip down your thighs.

A dark chuckle snaps your eyes open. “Not so talkative now are you? Now who’d you wear this dress for?”

You take deep breaths to calm yourself. “No one- myself.” It doesn’t work.

He took a step back and tsked. “Yea I don’t think so.” Suddenly he’s manhandling you around to face the mirror. You stare at his reflection and his hands fondle your hips then drag your ass against his hard bulge.

Not helping my own arousal at all.

“Joey!”

If only he’d just move his hands down.

He smirks at your complacent figure and palms your ass. Well it’s a start.

“Just tell me the truth, did you wear this-

His smirk turns into a clenched jaw as his eyes darken. You look up at him through your lashes in the mirror.

You let out a silent laugh as the dress is pushed up, now his breathing is getting harder. “Where are your damn panties?” He grumbles.

You lean over the side of the sink and retrieve the lace from your purse and wave them in his face. “You mean these? I got tired of them.” He caught them as you threw them at him and hesitated for a second before pocketing them.

“You’re just asking to be punished aren’t you?”

Yes, precisely.

“You must really want someone to find us here.”

Fuck public exhibition sounds hot as fuck.

“Wanna get caught fucking Cincinnati’s best quarterback?”

You scoff rolling your eyes and lift up your arms. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your damn status.”

Got me fucked up.

“Then why are you here?” He chuckles, shoving me back down. Rude. At least he’s starting to get rid of those jeans.

“So I could get fucked in the bathroom of a club by Cincinnati’s nerdiest white boy.” You say locking eyes with his reflection. “That’s your real status.”

The boy I see after getting fucking tens ways to Sunday.

“Well you’re right about one thing.” He groans.

While your body covers most of his groin, you can tell he’s stroking himself by the way his veins flex and turn. You grab a condom from your bag and hold it out to him. Biting your lip to suppress the moan in your chest as he rips it open with his teeth.

“I’m always right.” You tease wiggling your ass as against his length.

He rolls his eyes and lays a smack against your cheek. “Ow!” You gasp in surprise.

“Shut the fuck up.” He warns rubbing the tender muscle then kicks your legs apart.

“Make me.” Mischief shines in your glare while repeating the motions with your hips, shaking the fat on him some more.

He humors you for a bit before halting your movements with a strong hand. “Gladly.”

“Ahh.” You moan when his finger spreads your slick over your clit and cunt. Looking up at him, you feel him replace it with something much thicker. “Wait.”

His grip on your hips deepens as his cock impales you. “Fuck.”

So fucking worth it.

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

A/n: so which one did you prefer??

OG version or Babe’s Version

Edit: there were so many grammar errors in that, whoops.

#black reader #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #nfl imagine #friends w/ benfits au #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #song inspired #FYS #tems

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darsynia · 5 months ago

Text

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified.

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up.

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent.

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far.

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that.

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough.

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his.

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #captain america x f!reader #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america x you

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ahockeywrites · 10 months ago

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between the fog, i see you

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader requested? yes rating: 18+ warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), mentions of the devils lettuce, alcohol consumption, smut under the influence, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it) if you like it, please reblog :)

Sweat, alcohol and weed were all that you could smell as you made your way through the copious amounts of bodies who were in your way. Smoking may have been outlawed inside buildings, but it didn’t stop people from bringing their vapes into the club where you were trying your best to find your friends. Sophie said that she had found a booth where some of her brother’s friends were nursing beers after their game. You hadn’t watched it but were aware of the score. The Devils had won the game 8-4 and the captain had a hat trick.

You liked Nico, or at least you did before he ignored you the whole night when you went to one of the Devils’ charity nights with Sophie’s brother hanging off your arm. The pair of you were strictly platonic and you only agreed to tag along if you could bring her brother to your upcoming fashion show where you were showcasing designs to various sportswear companies and having an actual athlete there would help you out.

From that moment on, Nico did everything in his power to ignore you. You were buying a round of drinks? Suddenly he didn’t want one. You were hosting a party? Suddenly something came up and he was too busy to attend.

The crush you had on him when you first met had dwindled down but never disappeared. It was still there. You always found a way to watch the game when you weren’t in the studio and enjoyed when the social media team posted photos of their captain. The way he rallied the team to work in tandem with each other. His sweaty hair that you imagined running your hands through. The photos did something to you that you refused to admit, even to yourself.

Lights shone down over the table that Sophie was sat at and she was deep in conversation with Nico. His hair looked slightly more golden than usual, but you put that down to the lighting and haze at which you were looking at him with.

Jack was the first to notice you and jumped up to give you his seat before Sophie pushed a glass with some concoction in it towards you. It was a no-brainer for you to pick it up and down the rest of the glass.

The booth filled quickly with large hockey bodies and after a lot of pushing and shoving, you ended up three shots deep, sat next to Nico Hischier. The exact man you didn’t want to be near in any capacity, let alone slightly intoxicated.

Someone handed you another drink before Dawson brought you into a conversation about the new clothing you had designed. You loved talking about your work and it was your dream to continue designing clothes. It just so happened that your supervisor at college had a way to get you into working in sportswear manufacturing so following an internship at a manufacturing plant, you had started developing clothes for athletes. Having Sophie as a friend and her brother as an athlete, it made sense to start your research with him and then branch out.

It was after another round of drinks when you started becoming a little more loose lipped, talking about how your ex-boyfriend just wasn’t good enough for you and how you were considering going back into the dating pool. Just dipping your toes in, not looking for anything serious just yet. But you had Sophie to blame when she brought up, in front of everyone, that he had never given you an orgasm and that you’d never had one before.

Your cheeks flushed red, and you hid in whoever’s chest was beside you. You couldn’t be here for this discussion. When you resurfaced, you saw shocked faces.

Fuck.

Nico was the one who was sat next to you. Nico’s chest was the chest you had hidden in. Your eyes widened. You couldn’t be here anymore.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you announced, still looking at all the shocked faces. “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t even wait for the guys to move; you climbed over them and ran to the bathroom. Fuck. You looked at yourself in the mirror. To the average person, you looked fine, great even. To yourself, you had fucked up royally.

The man who you had a crush on, the man who hated you, now knew that your ex had never brought you to climax, and parts of your highlighter were now on his fitted, black t-shirt. The one that exaggerated his biceps and allowed you to see parts of his tattoo. The one that he sometimes used to wipe sweat off his forehead with and then a slither of his abs were on show.

You turned the faucet on, waiting for the cool water to come out so you could put some on the back of your neck. There was no way in hell that you were going to splash some on your face because then that would make it look like you had been crying. Only a few tears had come out and due to the waterproof mascara, you put on before coming out, it hadn’t run. Yet.

Bass thumped through the bathroom you found yourself in, but it was quieter in there. it gave you time to compose yourself, pull yourself together. You waited to catch your breath before standing up and checking that your outfit was clean. Who knew what had gone on in this bathroom before.

A knock on the door threw you off and you walked over to it to see if it was another patron waiting for it. You heard your name being shouted over and over through the hard wood.

“If you don’t open this fucking door, I’m going to kick it down,” the voice commanded. Fuck, whoever that was knew how to control with words.

“Alright fine,” you conceded, unlocking the door and allowing whoever it was to enter the bathroom.

You were shocked when you saw Nico on the other side and even more shocked when he closed the bathroom door behind the pair of you and locked it. His eyes were dark and if you looked closely, you would have seen the fire behind them.

He was infuriated. How did your ex have a woman like you but never made you feel how he could. He had been infatuated with you from the moment he met you but thought you were dating his team mate so were naturally off limits. But when it came out tonight that you were single and looking to start dating again, all the reigns had gone from him. You hiding in his shirt was the last straw. Your head being so close to his cock made him turn feral.

One of his hands made its way to your shoulder and the other to your hair, bringing a loose strand of it behind your ear. Nico’s body towered over yours and he brought his lip to the shell of your ear.

“That bastard of an ex-boyfriend,” he kissed your ear between words, “never got you to come.” His kisses moved from your ear to down your neck, sucking occasionally. “Speak princess,” Nico encouraged you.

“No,” your voice wobbled as you spoke back. “He didn’t.”

“It must be a shame,” his hands moved lower to rest on your ass which was accentuated by your leather skirt, slowly grabbing the cheeks. “To never have a man make you come, want to make you come. Want to make you scream for him. Want to make you see stars over and over and over again.”

Your eyes rolled back as Nico found the spot on your neck that no other man had found so quickly. He sucked hard as your head lulled to the side, the feeling of heat building between your legs was impossible to ignore. You had to refrain from asking him to move his hands because you couldn’t look needy in front of Nico, in a dark club bathroom. Could you?

“Please,” you whimpered, the words barely audible over the music pulsating through the room. His gaze pierced yours as he moved a hand up the curves of your body, coming to rest on your bra-less chest. A bra wouldn’t have worked with the outfit, and you hadn’t expected to end up in this position.

Nico’s thumb ghosted over your nipple and a whine escaped your lips, asking for more.

“Please what, princess?” He asked with a smirk on his face. Nico knew exactly what you wanted, you wanted him between your legs; hand, cock, or tongue. He wasn’t picky at all, anything you wanted, he would happily give.

“Want you,” you got out through deep breaths.

“You’re in luck,” the Swiss man smiled. “Want you too.”

His lip collided with yours, his tongue tasting of the whiskey he was sipping on earlier. Nico took no time in pulling down the front of your shirt as the kiss turned heated, exposing your breasts to the cool, bathroom air.

“Been thinking about these since we first met, fuck,” his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking again. A moan escaped from your lips, but you didn’t care. You were too caught up in the moment.

Your hands finally found a place to rest, in Nico’s hair pulling and tugging every last strand. This wasn’t going to be the sweetest hookup you’d had, but it certainly was going to be the hottest.

Nico’s kisses began to head south, over your shirt until he reached the waistband of your skirt. It was short and tight, and Nico could have come at the sight. It wasn’t until he swiped two of his fingers between your legs that he realised you had no underwear on.

“A skirt this short and no panties?” The captain questioned with a cock of his head. All you could muster up as a response was a nod. “Once I get started princess, I won’t be stopping unless you say Islanders.” The smirk on his face was back as he made you repeat the safe word. All because he got his hat trick past the Islanders tonight. If you had a little more sense in you, you’d have rolled your eyes and walked out. But there was something about this side of Nico that you wanted to see more of. Needed to.

Two fingers pushed into you and the feeling was beautiful, the callouses on Nico’s fingers, the way his palm found your clit. The everything. He kissed with the same rhythm as he worked you open with his fingers, only stopping once to take his fingers out and lick them, tasting you on him.

“You’re delicious,” he whispered before lowering his head to between your thighs. “Just a taste,” Nico winked before diving into your pussy.

Turns out that just a taste meant bringing you on the edge of orgasm three times before announcing that when you were going to come, it was going to be on his cock.

“Just fuck me already Nico,” you complained as he expertly undid his belt then yanked down his trousers and boxers, exposing his hardened cock.

“Turn round, hands on the wall,” Nico commanded, flicking up the skirt over your ass. You obliged, realising that the wall was actually a mirror and you’d be able to see everything he did. Fuck, he knew what he was doing.

Kisses were peppered up and down your neck as Nico’s hands started massaging the muscle of your ass. It felt relaxing and you leant into his touch, egging him on.

A slap to your butt brought you out of that state of relaxation and you felt Nico’s cock sitting between your legs, collecting your wetness to use as a lubricant. It took everything in his might to not slam himself into you but somehow, he refrained, teasing you.

Your ass moved back onto his lower abdomen and started grinding, you needed friction, something to make this feeling go. It felt like you needed to let go, to have something push you over the edge. It was unusual but your body started moving of its own accord.

“Does my girl want my cock?” Nico teased, lining himself up with you. You nodded in response and twisted your neck so that you could get the right angle to kiss him again.

Nico pushed his hips up towards yours, sinking himself fully into you as he continued to kiss the moans you made as he stretched you out inch by inch. He was longer and thicker than your ex and as he started moving in and out you could feel him reaching areas that no one else had.

The stretch burnt beautifully and all you could do was let Nico piston his hips into you, leaving no mercy. Expletives left your mouth as though it was a prayer as he continued to snap his hips up and down. A hand moved around from your ass to grasp a nipple and he rolled the pert bud between his fingers.

You cried out in pleasure, not knowing what the feeling in the bottom of your stomach was. Your body felt as though it was on fire, tingling throughout. Your breath became shallow and sped up and Nico knew exactly what to do.

Continuing to thrust into you was the easy part, the hard part for the captain was getting you to open your legs that little bit more so he could find your clit once more.

“Princess,” Nico groaned breathlessly. You moaned as he stilled inside you. “Put your foot up on the basin,” his free hand pointed in the direction he wanted. It took you a moment to respond but a hard slap on your ass brought you back to earth and when he told you what he wanted you to do again, all you could do was oblige because Nico had you wrapped around his little finger.

“Good girl,” he whispered in the shell of your ear before pulling your hair back to make you look into his eyes, and it sent shockwaves down your spine. No one had ever called you that before, but you liked it. You really liked it.

“Next time I’m fucking that ass,” Nico’s finger circled around your tight hole but moved it to your clit and started rubbing tight circles on the bud. When he started moving his hips again, that feeling of something building up started again.

“Fuck,” you moaned, head lulling to the side. “It feels like something is gonna break soon.”

He couldn’t come before you, not when he came into this bathroom to make you come. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than an orgasm but when he tasted you, he couldn’t help himself. Your walls tightened around him and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of release.

“Good,” Nico spoke with authority. “Relax and let go,” he commanded, and you listened. Your legs started to tremble, and you could feel your eyes start rolling into the back of your head. “That’s it, princess,” Nico coached. “Such a good girl.”

Something snapped inside of you, and everything went black for a split second. This feeling of euphoria was nothing you had felt like before. This was what cloud nine felt like, ultimate pleasure and relaxation. Everything and nothing at the same time. The pleasure continued in waves as you felt Nico continue to pound into you.

Deep grunts filled your ear, and you knew what was coming next. Your ex always reached orgasm but never got you there and Nico who had never even touched your arm had you coming on his cock at the first attempt.

Nico’s hips stuttered and you felt his warm release inside you.

Shit, you had come back to reality. Had you just fucked Nico Hischier in a club bathroom? Apparently so. Had the aforementioned man just given you your first orgasm? Yes.

You had to get out of there. Not just the bathroom, not just the club, potentially the city. You had to get back to your apartment.

The mirror showed a woman royally fucked and there was nothing you could do about it. Your hands moved to flick your skirt back down and you walked out of the bathroom leaving Nico speechless.

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #devils13 #nico hischer x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #hockey writing #hockey story #hockey fic #hockey smut

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dfortrafalgar · 8 months ago

Text

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMER ON CHAPTER 1 BEFORE PROCEEDING!!!!!!

Chapter 2

[Prev] [Next]

Law knew his eye bags were heavier than they usually were, so it came as absolutely no surprise when one of his nurses expressed deep concern for his unusually tired appearance. And that was saying a lot.

“Room 305 is doing well on aspirin, their blood pressure has improved dramatically since yesterday morning– Dr. Trafalgar, do you need another coffee? You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” she expressed, her eyes heavy with worry.

“I’m alright, Rebecca, but thank you,” he responded without a single fluctuation of his tone. Though, he was definitely a tad embarrassed that his lack of sleep from the night prior was that evident.

His pink-haired coworker continued walking alongside him, flipping through her charts from her latest rounds in the cardiac care unit. Not wanting to press further and risk upsetting him, she simply continued catching her supervisor up to speed with the patients in his ward. “Room 306 has been slightly unstable since his triple bypass surgery, so he was on extra monitoring overnight but hasn’t shown any significant signs of distress. Room 307 however is still intubated, with arrhythmia that comes and goes at random. He has both you and Dr. Tony overseeing his care today.”

Law nodded along with Rebecca’s words, and he truly was trying to absorb them as best he could, but he couldn’t get his mind off of you at home. He knew Shachi and Penguin would be good company, but he truthfully wanted nothing more than to be home with you at every waking moment, making sure you were okay. The constant thoughts of you from the night previous made his entire chest ache, the sounds of your distraught sobs echoing in his brain constantly.

“Dr. Trafalgar?” Rebecca once again questioned. She had stopped walking and Law hadn’t even noticed. He turned around, startled at his lack of awareness, and turned to face her. This time, her brown eyes were profoundly concerned. “If something is seriously wrong–”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he urged, briskly cutting off her statement. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. I apologize for my lack of attention, please continue with your notes.”

After a few brief moments, Rebecca sighed through her nose and flipped to the next page on her clipboard, continuing her briefing.

In a way, he was partially thankful for an unassuming round. He really needed to clear his head in time for his next surgery in an hour. This wasn’t like him.

—

It was around 9:00 PM when the front door to your apartment opened and closed softly. You were on the couch with Bepo, barely keeping your eyes open at the mindless television program in front of you when your husband walked through the door and hung his jacket on the coat rack, kicking his shoes off of his feet. Bepo seemed to know the drill, quickly hopping off of the couch and trying to make it seem like he hadn’t been lying there for an hour. You watched with a faint smile as Law exhaustedly trudged over to where you sat, flopping down next to you and resting his head in your lap. His nose was nestled into the plush of your belly, making you suppress a giggle at the ticklish feeling. Your hand immediately gravitated to his mop of thick, black hair.

“Busy day?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

Law groaned. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t thinking about you all day.”

You frowned. “I know… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I just can’t help but be nervous for you. It’s not your fault.” Law’s hand trailed to your hip, rubbing lazy circles into the skin below your pajama shorts.

“If it helps ease your worries, Shachi and Penguin took a huge load off today, they spent the entire day with Bepo. They even did your laundry, if you could believe it,” you stated with a dry chuckle, thinking back to a few hours prior when Shachi was boldly making fun of the gaudy pattern on a pair of Law’s boxers.

“That instills some confidence,” he joked back at you.

Your fingers continued to comb through his hair, making his eyes close with the content feeling. “Any interesting cases today?” you asked, desperate for a way to distract him from what was on his mind. Frankly, you needed the distraction too.

Law hummed, thinking back to the morning. “When I arrived this morning I had a patient in the OR for Carotid Artery Disease, so we did a carotid endarterectomy to help him with that. Very pleasant man, I spoke to his family during my final round when he was moved to recovery. He had suffered a very minor stroke a few years prior, so hopefully this surgery greatly reduces his risk for another.”

You nodded along with Law’s words. You were always allured at the way he could talk about his work for hours if you let him, and with the weight hanging over both of you, you desperately wanted him to. You could listen to him talk about cardiovascular diseases for the rest of your life if it meant not having to deal with the reality of your situation.

“What’s Carotid Artery Disease?” you asked, hoping he couldn’t catch on to the way you silently begged him to keep talking to distract your fuzzy mind.

“It’s a condition where a plaque builds up in the carotid arteries in your neck,” he explained, picking up his hand and trailing his tattooed fingers along the side of your neck, demonstrating where the vessel was. “It’s sort of similar to the way certain blockages can cause heart attacks, but because the plaque builds up in your neck, it could cause strokes.”

You continued nodding. “That’s interesting… any other surgeries today?”

Unbeknownst to you, Law was most definitely catching on to the way you urged him to continue speaking, using his voice to block out the anxious radio static in your head. He slowly sat up, leaving your lap feeling cold and vacant before pulling you into his chest. Bepo came to sit at the base of the couch, resting his fluffy head on Law’s thigh.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it right now…” Law began.

You closed your eyes and sharply inhaled through your nose.

“But I did call a urologist today to set me up with a brief fertility examination,” he continued.

You were scared to look up at him. “What will they do?”

Law idly trailed his fingers up and down your sides. “Most likely a semen analysis, blood test to detect hormone levels, or an ultrasound,” he explained. He paused, anticipating your reaction, but got none. With a sigh, he placed a hand on the back of your head, holding you close. “I know it’s really hard to talk about it, but I want to rule out every possibility. You don’t have to call so quickly, but I think it would be good to get in contact with your gynecologist again.”

You feebly nodded into his shoulder, your forehead resting where you now knew his carotid artery lay. “I know… I will. I promise I will.”

Law encouraged you to pick your head up to look at him. “You know I’m not the best with words,” he blankly stated, bringing a very small smile to your lips as you nodded. His calloused hand caressed the skin of your cheek. “But I’m going to be with you through this entire journey, no matter how long it takes. I’m your husband, I’m not going to leave you over something so…” he trailed off, looking for the appropriate word.

“Pointless?” you offered.

He quickly shook his head. “No, not pointless. Far from that. Maybe ‘idle’ is a decent word. An idle issue. An idle issue that will resolve with time.”

“Might resolve,” you countered.

“No. Will resolve.” Law was steadfast in correcting you. You could tell it was taking an incredible amount of energy for him to keep a positive head. As much as the entire fertility situation greatly upset you, you found a spark of hope and joy in the way Law was, surprisingly, keeping optimism. It wasn’t near enough for both of you, but it was better than nothing.

“I’ll call my OB-GYN tomorrow morning when her office opens…” you muttered, dropping your head back down. Law hummed in response, now taking the time to pet your hair with his fingers.

The room fell into moderate silence before Bepo huffed, demanding to go outside. You snorted at the sound, picking your head up and looking at your husband. “I’ll take Bepo to pee, there’s leftover lasagna in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Law lifted an eyebrow. “Lasagna?”

You finally stood, stretching and popping your back. Bepo excitedly ran toward the door, eagerly bouncing on his paws for you to hurry up and follow him. “Penguin was cooking all day today.”

Law grinned. “Nice, I’ll make myself a plate.”

He watched as you slipped on a light jacket and pulled Bepo’s harness over his body, looping his leash and exiting the apartment. With a groan, Law stood up and meandered to the kitchen towards the refrigerator.

You didn’t have many decorations or magnets, a few small sticky note reminders here and there, but a gift-shop magnet from a trip you took while still dating was stuck to the metal, holding up a candid picture of you and Law on your wedding night. Law still had no idea who took the image, but every time he looked at it sent butterflies through his stomach. You were both in the middle of dancing to an energetic song, you happily clinging to his arms with the brightest smile on your face. Your eyes were creased with unparalleled glee as you stared up at Law, who was looking back down at you with his own cheerful grin. The lights had blurred around you with the motion of whoever took the photo, but it made an ethereal golden glow surround your dancing figures. Your wedding night, albeit cliche, was the happiest night of Law’s life.

His stomach grumbled, interrupting his thoughts. He mindlessly reached for the leftovers in the fridge.

#trafalgar law x reader #tw pregnancy loss #trafalgar law #tw pregnancy #trafalgar d water law x reader #fem reader #law x reader #x reader #reader insert #im losing you

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uzumaki-rebellion · 18 days ago

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youtube

"Ruler of my heart

Robber of my soul

Where can you be?

I wait patiently

My heart cries out

Pain inside

Where can you be?

I wait patiently"

Irma Thomas—"Ruler of my Heart"

A.N.: Content Warning. Smut ahead.

Celeste's smartphone vibrated on her nightstand at six in the morning. She rubbed her head. Her scarf had come undone during the night and her locs tangled around her arm and side. She reached down for the phone and shoved it against her hair.

"Hello?" she said.

"Celeste…I can't come to church with you today."

She sat up and rested her back against the headboard.

"Oh…okay…"

" Mémé s health aide called me—"

"Is everything alright?"

"No. She's not doing so well…took a turn for the worse during the night. I've been here since two this morning."

"Did they say what's wrong? She's never been seriously ill or anything since she's been there."

"They don't really know. She was weak and having a hard time breathing before I got here. They have her using an oxygen tank now and she's better. Maybe Mike's death was too much for her to take."

"I'll come right over if you want."

"No. Go to your church service."

"I have to be there for work at four. I can stop in to check on you two."

"That would be good. Thank you."

"See you soon."

She hung up and slid down to the floor, prostrating herself for prayer. She asked God and her patron saint, St. Mary, to watch over Miss Irma. Celeste climbed back into bed and listened to the world outside waking up after excessive partying. Even her cottage moaned and shifted with creaking noises at the rising sun. Bounding out of bed forty minutes before service, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, rolled deodorant under her pits while checking the news about the missing tourists. There were no new updates available.

The drive over to St. Augustine was unhurried, and she found parking close by. After ninety minutes, Celeste stepped outside the Parish Hall with a dark smudge of ash on her forehead. She checked her phone for any messages from Terry, but no notifications popped up.

Back at her cottage, she cooked a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. Her friends chirped all over the groupchat app, complaining of hangovers, sore legs, and going back to work. She informed them that Terry hadn't stayed over, and they commended her on not simping out. The hours dragged by before she dressed in her work uniform and tied up her hair.

She checked in with her supervisor Anne at work, asking about Miss Irma.

"How did you know about her condition?" Anne asked.

"I'm friends with her grandson, Terry."

"I didn't know that."

"Is he still here?"

"He's with her now. We've transitioned into hospice care for her. Bryan said she doesn't have long."

"Wait…what? She's dying?"

Anne's watery blue eyes held the routine of elderly death in them.

"Yes."

"How could she go downhill so fast?"

"It happens that way sometimes. Not every patient has a gradual decline. They can be perky and thriving one moment, and then…gone just like that."

Celeste walked to her work locker and put away her bag and keys. She looked at her shift schedule and got to work immediately. Ducking into an employee restroom after cleaning six rooms, she braced herself by staring at her face in the mirror. Death and dying were inevitable at the long-term facility. Lord knows she'd seen enough of it working there. Things shifted to another experience when it was someone she cared about. She treated Miss Irma like family, and it hurt to know she would transition so soon. Another prayer went up from her and she crossed herself in order to build up emotional reserves to remain professional.

Passing through the long hallway, she headed to Miss Irma's room.

Terry kept a bedside vigil, cradling his grandmother's hand. Celeste was glad that they administered oxygen through a nasal cannula instead of a full mask. A hospice nurse checked the oxygen flow in the tank next to the bed and left the room quickly.

"Hi," she said.

Terry looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his forehead lined with stress. She moved around the bed to stand next to him. Miss Irma slept with labored breathing.

"How is she?"

Terry shook his head, and his eyes scrunched up. Celeste hugged him from the side and he buried his face against her stomach. He wept softly. She held him, rocking his body to ease his spirit.

"She's lived a long, happy life. I'm grateful for that…but I don't want her to leave me," he said.

Tears misted Celeste's vision and she willed them back down, keeping her composure for him. His breath passed through her work smock, warming up the skin on her stomach.

"I shouldn't have told her about my cousin. She didn't need to know about what happened to him yet. I could've lied to her and said he was too busy to visit."

"Lying isn't good."

"I should've waited for another time."

"Terry, don't blame yourself."

Miss Irma's eyes fluttered open. Celeste lowered her head to make eye contact.

"Hi Miss Irma," Celeste said.

"I'm so tired, Papa," Miss Irma said.

"Rest, Mémé…don't waste your energy trying to speak. I'm right here with you."

Celeste rubbed his shoulder and sang the first three stanzas of "I Need Thee" for Miss Irma in hushed tones. The older woman's agitation melted away. Her rheumy eyes held Celeste's gaze, and Terry patted his grandmother's feeble, blue-veined hand.

"I better get back to work and leave you some privacy," she said.

Terry stood up and hugged her, his bulky arms squeezing her close.

"Thank you for singing to her."

"I'll come by later during another round to check on y'all. Stay strong, hear?"

He nodded his head and sat back down.

Celeste hurried back to her busy schedule, cleaning and moving clients into the dining room for their evening meals. She marked off tasks as she completed them to keep her focus on working her eight hours. During her first break, she went outside to smoke against a side wall, wondering how Miss Irma was doing and how Terry held up. She called her mother and left a fussy message on her voicemail about Freddie.

Her cousin Pia sent her a link of Celeste dancing on a porch in a Mardi Gras compilation video along with images of Big Chief marching through their neighborhood. Returning to work, she led the finished diners back to their private rooms, or to the evening movie watch-party in the commons area.

She stopped in front of the doorway of Miss Irma's room. She cracked the door open and peeked inside. Terry held his head down near his grandmother's thigh. He slept soundly. Miss Irma's labored breathing became more pronounced and Celeste recognized the wet, gurgling noise with each exhaled breath released. Her time was near.

She reached down to close the door all the way and Miss Irma turned her head, lining her gaze with Celeste. Miss Irma's lips moved and Celeste couldn't hear what she said. She moved into the room quietly, trying not to wake Terry.

She bent over the bed to listen.

"Keep her," Miss Irma said, each word a strain on her breathing. "No matter what Papa says…no matter…what no one says…keep her."

She raised a weak hand and pointed toward her closet.

"The truth… is in there, child."

Terry shifted his head on the bed and opened weary eyes.

"Mémé?" he murmured.

"Oh, I do love you so…Papa," Miss Irma said.

He kissed his grandmother's cheek, and Miss Irma closed her eyes.

For good.

Terry's lips parted, but no sound came out, his grief so profound that vibrations in the air couldn't push out his pain of another loss. He held Miss Irma's hand and stared at her as if he could bring her back with a loving gaze.

"I'm truly all alone," he whispered.

Miss Irma's heart monitor alerted the medical staff and Celeste exited the room, blindly wandering in the opposite direction. She left the facility and cried against her car. Ten minutes later, she pulled it together again and walked back to Miss Irma's room.

The medical staff allowed Terry to sit with Miss Irma's deceased body for an hour. Celeste pulled up a chair and sat next to him in silence. Terry stared at Miss Irma with a damp face and a sorrowful mood.

"Even when you know it's coming, you're never prepared…not really. Ninety-nine years she walked this earth and loved me for every single one of them."

He closed his eyes and a single tear ran down his left cheek.

"I was so grateful to know her," she said.

Terry reached for Celeste's hand and held it on his thigh.

"You were a light in her lonely days while I was away. I can never repay you for the care and love you've shown her the last year of her life."

Anne knocked on the door softly and entered. Celeste knew she had forms prepared for Terry to sign, and two hospice workers waited outside to take Miss Irma away.

"I have to go back to work, but later…tonight, you're welcome to stay with me."

He wiped his face and nodded.

Walking away from Miss Irma and Terry was the most difficult thing to do, but she had to let him deal with the aftercare of the deceased on his own.

Terry cremated Miss Irma's remains.

That surprised Celeste even though Catholics didn't forbid cremation. They had guidelines stating that remains had to be buried in a consecrated place, but an older Catholic like Miss Irma typically preferred a traditional burial with the body kept intact for Resurrection Day. Terry didn't act very religious and sorted out his grandmother's affairs according to her will. Miss Irma had a pre-paid burial package at a local crematorium. Three days after her death, Celeste stood with Terry at the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 columbarium in the serenity garden. He interred Miss Irma with his cousin Mike and refused to have any kind of service.

Her friends started worrying about how closely she attached herself to Terry, isolating herself more and more from family and associates. She blew them off, wanting to enjoy his company without their interference. The only downside to their relationship was that Celeste dreaded going to work at the elder care facility and the chicken plant. It meant less time spent with him. His bereavement lasted five days, and she traded shifts here and there and called in sick to the chicken plant to make the most of the hours alone with him.

She cooked low sodium soups for him and brewed lots of tea, insisting that he eat and take in liquids despite his grief. He obliged her. They watched lots of movies and held each other in bed at night. He liked to rest his head on her chest while she hummed and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

She played the piano for him often at sunset, keeping her French doors open so the music drifted outside as the evening breeze cooled down her cottage. Most of her repertoire consisted of gospel hymns or classical arias. As a child, her voice lessons focused on singing classical music and downplaying secular music. Her parents dreamed of her being an opera star. Their greatest disappointment in her musical gifts was the day she dropped out of Tulane University's prestigious Newcomb Department of Music in her junior year. She'd lost sight of what path to take in school and dropped out in frustration. Playing piano and singing were things she enjoyed as a hobby, not a career choice.

Watching Terry shut those gorgeous eyes while she sang "Adoramus Te Christe" thrilled her to the bone. He appreciated her talent, especially the way she could sound down home with all her gospel runs, but then turn around, striking the keys with a fiery piano rendition of German composer Carl Orff's "O Fortuna". She tickled the ivory stirring up playful riffs imitating Professor Longhair and Alan Toussaint. Serenading him with her version of "Ruler of my Heart", Celeste adored the way Terry drank in every sung word, gifting her with his unwavering attention. Music was in the blood of her family, the heart of New Orleans. What was the city without its music? Without Black folks? She poured out her love for New Orleans, her people…and him, through her talented fingers dancing across the keys.

He could never keep his hands off her throughout their time together.

Sometimes he liked to play with her locs absentmindedly while she rested her head on his lap, listening to love songs on her sound system. He'd fondle her breasts, plucking and pinching her nipples at unexpected times, forcing her to take off her shirt and unfasten her bra so he could suck on her tits. She loved getting on her knees and stuffing his dick between her breasts. Titty fucking brought out the beast in him. Nothing was sexier than his eyes narrowing into half slits, watching her soft, ample breasts rub up and down his shaft, his slit dripping copious amounts of sticky fluid. She'd stick the tip of tongue deep into his slit and he'd groan, the rumble in his chest turning her on.

They spent a whole afternoon like that, titty fucking while she was down on her knees, then switching to her reclining on the sectional with him straddling her waist, using his big hands to squeeze her tits while he humped that battering ram between her cleavage like it was her pussy.

She'd squeal when he nutted all over her nipples, then he'd keep stroking his dick until he shot a heavy load on her face next. He'd smear the cum around and make her lick it off his fingers, all the while telling her she was amazing. Her plump tits looked like two big ole pound cakes covered in glazed icing by the time he started jerking off again, aroused beyond measure by her appearance soaked in his creamy white jizz. He repeated this over and over until he shot hot ropes all over her lips and open mouth. His stamina was unreal.

Still covered in semen, he'd flip Celeste over onto his knees and spank her, building up her pain tolerance over a session, and then rub her ass cheeks with those massive palms to soothe the scorching heat his hand strikes left on her backside. Their safe word never had to be used, because he instinctively knew when Celeste reached her limit. She gave herself willingly to him, sucking his dick and balls whenever he needed tender-loving care. Her head bobbing in his lap giving loud sloppy toppy became ritual. He gave as much as he took from her. Reciprocity was his middle name, and he kept his face buried between her legs twice a day.

Bouncing on that big dick became another favorite pastime in the evenings. He'd glue his mouth to her ear and tell her in crude language with throaty groans how much of a good girl she was for taking all of his dick in her tight snatch. She became delirious when he lifted her up and down on his erection, as if she had no weight at all. He stood up and really showed off by arm-curling her on and off his length in the air, her thighs spread across his biceps. They went through two bottles of lube fast… and so many orgasms.

Occasionally they untangled their limbs, and got out of the house to walk to the French Market for fresh air and non-sexual exercise. They picked out interesting arts and crafts, bought pralines, visited Congo Square and checked in with her older cousin who ran the Backstreet Cultural Museum that highlighted Mardi Gras Indian history. Terry walked by her side carrying shopping bags home like they were a regular long-time couple. He came back to himself, being with her. That's what he told her. Celeste's heart grew brave, and she admitted to herself that she was falling in love. The embers of romantic love sparked and burned into a steady glowing orange flame, and each day she added a bit more kindling, keeping the hearth of eros warm in her heart. Terry's affections grew even more pronounced and his actions hinted he felt the same way about her. He took care of her, paying for everything while he stayed with Celeste, even covering her light and gas bill. His mourning period blossomed into courtship.

A week after interring his relatives, Terry asked to do something with her.

"Let me videotape you."

"You really wanted that directing gig, huh?" she teased.

He gently pushed her leg to get her off the couch.

"Set up your camera and ring lights…right on the floor again," he said. "Wear the burgundy bra and panties. Throw on your six-inch heels…bring me the binding rope, too."

Celeste set about gathering her equipment and dressed the way he wanted. He stuck the dildo on the floor and adjusted the lighting to a natural setting that mimicked warm outdoor light. She pulled her carnival mask over her eyes. The only make-up she used was a pink lip gloss.

She stood before him and handed over the red satin binding rope. He tied her upper body carefully, creating a line of small knots along her spine, and bound her arms together, pressed into her chest.

"Comfortable? Not too tight?" he asked, mindful of not stopping her circulation.

"I'm good," she said.

His gaze dusted across her form, approving of the physical masterpiece waiting to do his bidding. Freddie used to pester her about letting him handcuff her to their bed a lifetime ago and she always refused, uncomfortable with being hooked to a headboard.

Look at her now. Tied up by a man she hadn't known a mere two weeks ago.

Terry ran his large hand down her side, testing the bondage rope and stroking her skin. He frowned and shook his head, undoing the rope quickly.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Take the underwear off. Your skin looks better with the rope by itself," he insisted.

She pulled off her bra and shimmied out of her panties with his help keeping her balance. He tied the rope again, but this time he placed various knots on her erogenous zones, nipples, and clit. The unused length of rope he turned into a leash knotted loosely at the front of her throat. He held the leash in his hand, turning her into his sexual pet. She liked that her arms were free, even though he was in control of her movement.

The emerald coloring of his eyes became alluring sirens. They matched his inviting lips and aroused her all over. Every time she moved, a knotted portion of the rope rubbed, tugged, or created friction on her sensitive parts. Especially her clit. Terry licked his fingers and pushed a small knot into that swelling jewel.

"Sticky already," he said, licking his fingers. "My little nasty girl."

His voice sounded deeper…hungry. Her pussy started purring then. He tugged on the rope resting on both sides of her vulva and she whimpered. The friction there felt exquisite on her soft, plump outer labia. He left just enough space for her opening to remain available for his use.

"How did I get so lucky to find you, Celeste?"

She pressed her eyes shut. The vibration of his voice teased the skin on her neck. He kissed her throat and licked a favorite spot that he always buried his teeth in when he came inside of her. The bruising on her neck, under her breasts, and on her left thigh never went away completely. Those times he did bite her—and he bit often—brought on a high better than smoking weed. He'd bite, suck at the skin like he was giving a hickey, and she'd float into a cosmic orgasm every time.

He moved his lips to her chin and kissed her there, his tongue tracing circular swirls until he reached her ear.

"I want you to ride that dildo like you're riding me. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

He kissed her and pried her lips apart with his tongue, darting inside her mouth with an ardor that overwhelmed her ability to stay in the present. Her mind flew away into the future, dreaming of romance and building a life with him. Pure fantasy.

He pulled away from her lips and held her trembling body.

"Crying? Why, baby?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he hugged her.

"Should we stop this?" he breathed.

"No. I can do it."

"Are you sure? Have I done something to upset you?"

"No…I'm happy. I want this…I want you…"

He grinned so hard that his gums showed, looking like a little kid who won first prize at a Spelling Bee. Did he smile at his wife that way when she was alive? Celeste thought about that woman more and more. Could Terry love her enough to want to wife her up one day?

He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"I love you," he said.

Celeste's heart imploded.

Her knees quaked, and he held her against him with a beatific smile on his gorgeous face.

"Do you feel the same about me?"

Celeste threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto her toes. He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers.

So fast…it all came about so fast that Celeste wasn't sure that she hadn't made up the encounter or the words that came out of his divine lips.

He loved her. Truly, madly, profoundly.

They kissed again, their tongues sliding into sweet configurations, each one of them trying to show the other the depth of their feelings. Celeste even thanked Freddie in her heart for showing his ass and removing himself from her life to make way for this light-eyed prince who swept her off her feet literally.

Terry spun around with her in his arms and she laughed, feeling dizzy from the rush of love confessions.

He checked the camera settings to record her, and Celeste crouched over the lubed up dildo in her high heels and knotted rope binding.

"Show me how much you love me," Terry said.

His eyes took on a deadly seriousness and Celeste shook her hips and reached down to her toes, displaying her wide open labia. Her pussy twitched in anticipation of penetration, and Terry groaned behind the camera.

"That's it, Celeste…baby that pussy is glistening."

She rolled her hips and lowered her body down to the floor, crouched on her heels, and rested her vulva against the tip of the jet black dildo. The toy was flexible and bent at an angle to help her control how deep it went. Patting her labia, she fingered herself, playing for the camera and him.

"Right there baby, hold it…"

She squeezed her vaginal muscles, letting her opening wink open and closed for him. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Terry tug on his dick through his gray sweatpants. He already had a tent pitched there and his pre-cum stained a visible quarter-sized wet spot.

"Slide down on that shit," he commanded.

His voice echoed in her ears, and she obeyed.

Up and down she went. The dildo spread her pussy lips apart and her tight opening choked it with loud squelching noises. Terry's eyes volleyed back and forth from the laptop on the coffee table and the camera lens he recorded from. He held the leash end of the bondage rope and it gave the appearance of the viewer controlling Celeste's body. She wound her hips and slid on and off the dildo, riding the tip, constantly looking over her shoulder, her mask creating the mystery ultra-fuck experience that her viewers paid to see. She turned around to face the camera, using her strong knees to rock forward and back on the fake dick. Terry pulled on the rope, forcing her head up.

"Got that dick creamy, baby," he said.

Celeste slapped her vulva and looked at how frothy she made the dildo. She fucked it like it was Terry's fat dick. He stopped looking at the camera view screen and watched her fuck with gushy pussy live. Celeste became wet enough to start making splashing noises each time she dropped down on the dildo. The knots in the rope spurned her on, their friction on her nipples and clit leading her to a dangerous precipice.

Terry pulled down his sweatpants just enough to release a massive erection that he stroked above her with delicious erotic skill. It looked so fat and juicy. Her mouth watered and her pussy contracted after a long stream of pre-cum spilled out of his tip and fell onto her thigh. Celeste pressed into her clit with the rope knot, and an unhurried orgasm rippled in surging waves along her outer labia, causing her to squirt all over the floor. She'd never done that before. Terry's dick started spitting cum after her release, and his semen rained down on Celeste, covering the satin rope in wet, messy splashes. Her lover's eyes burned with lust and he pulled her onto her feet by the leash.

Spinning her around, he penetrated her standing up, bending her forward and yanking on her locs. Gripping her throat, he pummeled her cheeks, sinking that thick heat deep into her until his balls slapped against her ass. It wasn't enough for him.

Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. He entered her again with one thrust and she gasped at the sensation of fullness.

"Tell me you love me," he begged.

The earnestness in his tone shocked Celeste. He needed verbal reassurance from her that he wasn't alone in the sentiment.

"I love you, Terry."

"Say it again…again…again…baby…"

He loved on her like she'd never been loved on before. Pure. Gentle. Real.

"Fuck me…yes…I feel you squeezing me, shit…don't stop…damn, girl! Damn, Celeste…fucking this dick…keep fucking me…ooh shiiiiit!"

Terry stopped short of cumming and untied her. He rubbed the indentation marks on her skin, kissing each one until satisfied that he soothed them all.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

He lowered his head to suck on her nipples. She rubbed on his hair and he tended to her breasts like it was his first time playing with them.

His large physique covered her in muscles, sweat, and even tears. He kept his watery eyes on her face, and they repeatedly told one another, "I love you."

It had to be real.

His dick stretched her pussy in ownership. She pointed her toes at the ceiling and gripped his wide back, her nails digging into his sweaty flesh, breaking skin. He cried out her name, and that alone triggered her pussy to spasm and send tight contractions along the length of his dick. The orgasm that curled her toes came deep within, down in the bottom of her pussy where his dick rested. Celeste's eyes rolled back. He plunged his teeth into the side of her neck, sucking with those full lips and greedy tongue. His dick swelled and pumped warm cum into her. Thrashing her head about, she couldn't get over how he wrecked her walls. He spilled deep into her womb and she wept, her pussy still throbbing around him.

Celeste could've died happy in that moment. Cumming on the dick of the man she loved…and who loved her back…priceless.

"I love you…I love you…I love you," he said over and over until she passed out.

Heavy raindrops.

Celeste made coffee for herself and Terry in her kitchen. Her faded light blue house dress looked just as gloomy as the weather outside. She poured the liquid into mugs full of cream and sugar, stirring them with a spoon before carrying them out into her living room.

Terry peered at the courtyard through the French doors. The curtains were drawn back so they could watch water falling from the sky.

"Doesn't look like it'll clear up today," she said, watching him.

He didn't acknowledge her right away, just stared up at the darkening clouds.

He'd been with her for an additional week and his mood had changed. Their interactions and lovemaking remained top notch, but his mind seemed preoccupied with something outside of her.

He was afraid of something.

On their outings he walked like a man dodging trouble, preferring to avoid crowds and always looking over his shoulder. He gave her money to buy food alone and holed up in her house like a shut-in. She questioned him about his behavior and he claimed to not be feeling well. Spooked and nervous, Terry became a different person and no amount of cajoling from her made him open up about it.

She handed him a mug and he turned to look at her.

"I think it'll rain all week," he said.

She walked over to the sectional and sat down, sipping her coffee and dreading going to work at the chicken plant in a few hours. Terry sighed and drank from his mug.

Celeste moved over to the piano to play him something comforting, but the first chord she struck on a piano key didn't sound right.

Terry's somber eyes looked gray in the distance between them.

"I have to go back home, check on the restaurant with my business partner. I've been away too long and I have responsibilities there," he said.

She nodded in understanding, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat.

"Will you be able to come back and see me?" she asked.

"Not for a while, Celeste."

"I get it. You had a life before you came here. I can't expect you to stay forever."

"Baby, don't cry…"

Celeste covered her face with her left hand. Terry sat down next to her on the piano bench.

"Hey…hey…" he said.

He hugged her, and she cried into his neck. The man had proved that there was love after love, and she wished she could relive every moment she spent with him. She sensed deep down that he didn't want to leave...but had to. If a man couldn't tell her the truth about why he wanted to go away, she was smart enough to let him leave. He told her once he had issues in the past being in New Orleans. Maybe it was some old gangster shit and he had to get outta Dodge fast. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to get involved.

Celeste rested her head against his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat and remember it. The rain outside did the rest of the crying for her.

Chapter 9 HERE.

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