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stonerwitch · 1 month

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A Treasured Friend I Alicent Hightower x Reader

Smuffy Christmas, December 3rd I Masterlist

For @eyelinerandcigarettes Thank you for sending in a request Fae, you're amazing and I'm still fangirling over the fact that you read my little fics 🩷

Prompt: Brushing a strand of hair away & Nipple play

Summary: Queen Alicent’s closest companion offers her an evening of relaxation to escape the pressures of court

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, slight angst (canon-typical homophobic sentiments and misogyny), kissing, longing, petting, nipple play, secret relationship

Word Count: 1400

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“Do you ever find yourself reminiscing about those days? When things were easier? Happier?”

The Queen’s amber eyes search yours for a glint of recognition; for confirmation that you long for those days as well.

She appears exhausted after a day filled with countless obligations, the weight of the Seven Kingdoms heavy on her delicate shoulders.

You remember the time she speaks of as if it was mere moments ago.

It was summer. You spent your days going for long walks in the gardens, arms locked together and giggles escaping your lips unhindered. Sharing secrets, drinking tea while sitting on plush cushions laid out on the grass, feeding each other cake until your bellies were about to burst.

Taking any chance the Seven granted you to touch her. Hold her hands in comfort as she spoke of her dreams for the future; speculating about her future with you as her only audience. Allowing her to revel in the comfort you provided her. Free from the shackles of duty, speaking only from the heart.

It was hard to not regard her with fondness back then. As it is now. Every time you lay eyes on your Queen, your heart seems to skip a beat, making you chest tighten in anxious enchantment.

She truly is marvellous.

A treasured friend.

You’d been close ever since you first arrived in King’s Landing, dragged to the capital by the chains of duty. The union with your husband was announced shortly after his second wife perished in the birthing bed, prompting you to leave girlhood behind and follow him as he was called to the capital.

Though melancholy had consumed you as you packed up to leave the only home you’d ever known, meeting the future Queen, Alicent Hightower, proved to be nothing less than a gift from the Gods, granting you a companion on foreign soil.

The familiarity the two of you quickly adopted was to be expected, for girls often found solace in each other's company. The touches you shared, the fleeting kisses you placed on each other’s cheeks were merely a display of the close kinship shared. Nothing more. You were still girls, and girls could indulge in intimate touches with each other.

As a token of your friendship, of course.

Years have passed since your first encounter. Now you are both married women; mothers even.

“Days like those will come again, your grace”, you assure her with a gentle smile. “Days filled with fulfilment, when our only worries depend on whether or not we will be able to walk back to our chambers after enjoying too much cake”.

She smiles at your jest, though you sense her reaction is more of a display of kindness than one of true amusement.

---

You lay the last cushions out before the hearth in the Queens chambers, admiring the work you’ve spent the better part of the evening perfecting.

You’ve prepared a picnic almost identical to those you shared in the gardens in the hot summer climate. Only now, you throw the cushions in front of the hearth in the Queen’s chambers, opting for hot tea instead of the chilled kind you’d enjoyed under the scorching sun.

It may not be the luscious greenery of the summertime gardens surrounding you, but it will do.

The heat from the fire warms you face, the tea in the pot next to you emitting steam from the thin spout pointed toward the ceiling. You’ve changed into your chemise, determined to spend an evening in utmost comfort.

Determined to show your close companion how much she means to you.

The heavy door of the Queen’s chambers opens with a creak, alerting you of her arrival.

She looks tearful as she takes in the scenery, the same solemn expression she often wears. Though this time, her glassy eyes do not make your stomach churn in compassion. The smile that breaks out on her face tells you she’s content.

“What is all this?”, she breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

“A chance to reminisce”, you reply, clearly pleased with the success of your scheme.

She moves in hurried steps, swiftly taking a seat next to you.

As you pour her a cup of steaming tea, you ask her about her day. She asks you about yours. Your conversation slowly turns more heated as you share each detail of your lives with each other.

You discuss life at court, upcoming noble events, motherhood. Though you grace on the topic of husbands, you quickly change the subject, neither of you desire to dwell on your spouses longer than necessary.

The better part of your days are filled with dutiful thoughts of them.

Eventually, your excitement falters, conversation turning hushed as you speak of things only the two of you may indulge in.

Of what could have been.

When one shiny auburn curl of your Queen's hair falls to hide her face, obstructing your admiration of her beauty, your hand flies up to tuck it behind her ear on pure instinct.

Leaving said hand there to cup her cheek is wholly intensional, though.

Alicent’s eyes regard yours intensely as she leans into your touch.

A silent question of whether you’d like to continue.

The hand still on her cheek provides the answer.

She leans closer, soft, plush lips making contact with yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

‘Tis how it always begins.

Far from how it ends.

You deepen the kiss, moving closer to Alicent’s softness. Your tongues soon intertwine, finding a gentle rhythm as you explore heartfelt intimacy together.

As your tongues grow bolder, so do your touches. The Queen's hands seem restless, caressing your thighs, hips, and waist in hurried strokes. The pleasure you secretly indulged in always felt different from the one thrust upon you by your husband. It was gentler.

Kinder.

A type of closeness reserved simply for the two of you.

Alicent’s hands move up your stomach, making the butterflies in your stomach sprint in spiralling wingbeats.

Your fingers briefly leave her softness to untie the strings at the top of your chemise, shaky hands pushing the fabric down to reveal your bosom, hoping that your Queen will grant you the feel of her skin directly upon yours.

She knows your desire as well as you know hers, lips leaving yours to travel down towards your exposed chest.

Her hands move to grab at the sides of your exposed chest, fingers gliding over the soft skin.

You sigh in content, relaxing as your body moves down to lay on top of the abundance of cushions you’d prepared.

Alicent lets her tongue taste your skin, lovingly capturing your soft flesh between her teeth. The intimate touch sends sparks of bliss through your body; you feel intoxicated with want as your eyes flicker down to observe the Queen as she offers you pleasure.

Her face moves to the side, the softness of her cheek making contact with your heaving bosom. You wish to keep her there forever.

Your back arches as one delicate finger moves to experimentally circle the outer line of the peaks of your breasts. You bite your lip to prevent a pleasured sigh from escaping.

Would it be too indulgent?

Alicent seems displeased with your restraint, moving to gently grace her teeth over the nipple of your right breast.

You push your body against her mouth, sighing loudly as bliss takes over your being. To your delight, your queen indulges your neediness, lips closing around you. As she suckles your flesh, you move your hand to her head, threading her auburn locks between your fingers.

This closeness feels more fulfilling, more intimate than anything else in your dutiful life. Something purely for the two of you to enjoy.

Your eyes close in pleasure as the Queen continues to suck and lick at your nipple, her hands still restlessly roaming across your body. Your eyes open when you feel her slightly pull away, looking up at you with dark eyes, spit-covered lips glistening in the candlelight illuminating her apartments.

“You are my closest confidant, my lady”, she whispers against your skin. You detect her shy smile despite the heaviness of your eyelids.

“Let me appreciate you”, she commands, lips again finding your breast.

‘Tis how it always begins.

Simply closeness between two women.

Closer than most.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment or reblog 😘 I was heavily inspired by historical accounts of women "just being friends" and "sharing a close bond" whenever they were intimate with other women. I really enjoyed writing this piece, thank you again for requesting it, Fae!

#HELL YEAH #my dearest love 💚

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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Feel free to not write this my love. I know you don’t think you can write for her but I’m here anyway.

Can I have a Alicent hightower smut request. Maybe she is helping the reader de stress (I really need it right now my brain is in peaces) but with some breast play of her doing it to the reader? And some praise ? Honestly it doesn’t have to be here, could be some random person I just need this.

(I’m going to jump off a roof) (stressed Batman)

꒰ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍’𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

ೀ amira speaks! : my darling wife Ash! 🥺 I truly hope you feel better now, my love. This is my first time writing for Alicent + breast play, so I hope you like it, and it makes you feel better! All I can do for my Batwife, I will. 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 441.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : smut, drabble, WLW. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Alicent Hightower x (fem!)Reader

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to February 19th.

“My Queen,”

The sound of soft pleas and hushed moans echoed through your private chambers. Your eyes were closed shut, with your head thrown back as your lips were partly open, allowing all type of sounds to escape deep from your throat. As you sat on the edge of your bed, your nails dug deeply into the silk sheets beneath you.

A proud smile grew at the corner of the Green Queen’s rosy lips. Her lips delicately placed kissed on your areola, occasionally nibbling on your flesh as her other hand gropped your free breast; her thumb stimulating your needy nipple by caressing it gently, yet firmly. “My sweet love,” she whispered against your overstimulated skin. Alicent had found her way to remove the stress accumulated on you. You were too precious for her, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of you carrying any type of burden — and any way she could think of pleasing you, she would use it.

Needily, your hand went to the back of her head; your fingers intertwining between strands of her brunette curls, feeling your cunt become increasingly wet as her lips greedily took your nipple, feeling her tongue suckle on it as she moaned against you. Her hand clawed on your breast, massaging your hardened nipple. For a moment, she pulled out from sucking on your tit, but her glossy lips grasped against your flesh as her stare moved up to your features, which was drowned in pleasure. A gasp escaped from you, abruptly feeling her mouth leave your breast for a moment.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, my love.” your gaze moved downwards at her, weakly begging for her attention, as the Queen proved slightly upwards your neck to press a loving, delicate smooch against it. Her lips lingered on your skin for a few long seconds before she pulled apart, fixing her coffee eyes on yours. A rosy hue formed on your cheeks as you panted continuously from the stimulation.

“You are such a good, pretty girl. You’re my good girl.” she praised, pressing one last kiss on your chin, before lowering back to your breasts. Her mouth ravenously took your other stimulated breast, the one she had used her thumb to caress it, needily feeding and sucking from it — using her tongue to stroke your hardened nipple. A loud growl escaped from you, as you instinctively moved your body forward to give her more access.

“My poor sweet girl, so stressed.” she cooed, in between ragged breaths, as her fingernails scraped against the skin of your other breast. “But I will take good care of you. You’re mine now, all mine.”

#OHHHHHHH WEEEEEE #my dearest love 💚#need her so bad

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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What a Pleasure to Unwrap

HOTD: Alicent Hightower x fem!reader (Modern AU)

Sweet and Spicy Bingo Collection

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 1.1k

Prompt: Call Me for @sweetspicybingo

Warnings: WLW, fingering, alcohol consumption

You meet Alicent in a bar and a new relationship blossoms

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

Your crimson lips wrapped around the edge of the martini glass before taking a generous sip. The liquor burned your throat pleasantly as the stressful workday slowly melted away. When you gazed up from your drink, you unintentionally locked eyes with a woman seated across from you at the bar. Your cheeks immediately warmed as she gave you a small, shy smile. She had the sweetest brown eyes and beautiful auburn curls that cascaded down her shoulders. You returned the smile before glancing down at your hands. When you looked back up, she was gone.

Damn, you sighed, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard a soft hello.

“Mind if I join you?” the woman asked. A short, green velvet dress hugged her body, and the gold pendant of her necklace rested tantalizingly against the swells of her breasts. Green was definitely her color.

“Not at all,” you replied, and she sat on the bar stool next to yours.

A taupe lip stain decorated her glass of white wine as she placed the glass beside yours.

“I don’t usually do this,” she admitted, her voice wracked with nerves.

“Uh, do what?”

“Approach someone in a bar.” Her cheeks flushed a dark pink.

“Oh. Oh! If it helps, I’m glad you did,” you smiled.

A smile broadened across her face. “I’m Alicent.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Alicent.” You shook her hand and told her your name.

The two of you began to chat, striking up an easy conversation. You learned she worked for Hightower Industries, a long-standing and highly wealthy company with a hand in international trade. She had just gotten out of a messy divorce when she realized and accepted her attraction to women, and you empathized with her. While you hadn’t been married, you had been in a relationship for five years that ended up crashing and burning. It wasn’t easy putting your heart out there after a scorched breakout. The evening came to an end as you polished off your final martini.

You leaned in closer toward Alicent, noticing the flecks of gold in her doe-soft eyes. Her cheeks were flushed as she moved closer to you until your lips met and melded into a soft kiss. It sent a spark through your tummy. Her hand rested on your knee, stroking the smooth patch of skin under the hem of your black pencil skirt. She offered to pay for the drinks, but you insisted on covering your own tab. Instead, you suggested that she could treat on the next meetup, hesitant to use the word date just yet. It felt too early, and you didn’t want to jinx anything.

“So you’d like to see me again?” she smiled.

“I would love to see you again,” you chirped, asking the bartender for a pen and scribbling your name and number on a clean, dry cocktail napkin, “Call me.”

You were giddy the next day when Alicent followed your suggestion and gave you a ring.

Two months later, you were curled on your couch with Alicent in your arms. She cradled a bowl of popcorn in her lap, taking small handfuls while binge-watching the latest television craze. It may have been a touch too romantic for your taste, but you enjoyed the peals of laughter Alicent let out whenever a scene amused her.

“We need some more wine,” you sighed, noticing the bottle was empty after you refilled your glass.

“Good thing we’re well stocked,” she chuckled, placing the bowl on the table before going into the kitchen to procure another while you put the show on pause.

You stood to stretch a bit as she refilled the glasses with Chardonnay, which complimented the buttery flavor of the popcorn. You rolled it around your tongue, savoring the taste before swallowing it.

“Should we call it a night?” you asked, noting how late it was getting.

“Might be a good idea. We can finish the show this weekend,” Alicent replied.

“Bed then?”

“Bed,” she hummed in agreement, a sparkle in her dark eyes.

Once you were on the bed with her, your hands slipped under the thin cotton of her kelly green shirt, cupping her breasts. Slowly, you slipped your hands further down to tug off her matching longue pants and silk underwear. The soft swell of her naked backside rubbed against you.

“Are you needy for me, baby?” you cooed, and she answered you with a muffled whine.

You buried your face in her auburn curls, breathing in the musky and sweet scent of jasmine from her shampoo. Your hand pressed between her thighs, cupping her warm cunt as your fingertips lightly teased her. Alicent mewled, rutting against your hand. Once your fingers were slick with her arousal, you worked one inside her. Your teeth scraped over the exposed skin of her creamy shoulder as you added a second finger, loving the feeling of her stretched around you. She trembled in your embrace as pleasure overtook her.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” you cooed in her ear as you dragged your thumb over her clit. A moment later, your fingers were soaked. You basked with her in the aftermath, stroking her soft skin and whispering words of praise into her ear as she calmed from the high.

The two of you indulged in a bath a bit later, soaking in the warm water brimming with rose-scented bubbles as candlelight bathed the bathroom in a muted golden glow. Her thick curls were piled on top of her head, a few tendrils falling out of place and growing damp from the bathwater. Alicent settled between your legs, sighing happily as she rested her back against your chest. Your finger slipped under her chin, gently lifting her face towards yours before kissing her. Her lips were rose bud soft and tasted of cherries.

“I’m so happy you approached me in the bar that night,” you giggled against her lips.

“One of the best decisions I ever made, love,” she grinned, rubbing her nose against yours. You brought her fingers to your mouth, allowing your lips to softly graze over the scars left behind surrounding her nail beds. A nervous childhood habit that had left its mark behind, but you loved every flaw, and not just the perfections.

After the bath, you tumbled into bed with her, snuggled up close under the soft sheets. One of her legs slipped between yours as her hand traced along your shoulders. You gazed into those soft doe eyes, noting the specks of gold and amber, the very colors that had caught your attention that night in the bar. Your thumb traced over the curve of her cheek before enveloping your arms around her. You would never let her go.

#YEPP YEP #my dearest love 💚

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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Alicent Hightower with an autistic!hyper!touch starved spouse because why not

Doesn't mind one bit!

You sit on her lap during meetings.

Fuck Otto Hightower btw and not in a good sexy way I want to murder him

She just likes to be touching you

Your face, your arms, your waist, everywhere.

She randomly just rests her hand on you literally anywhere just to be touching you

She doesn't like going too long without touching you so you being touch starved is a pro

She's also very touch starved!

Her love language is touch

She will toy with and fidget with your hands

She's used to just biting her nails when she's nervous (same actually)

But now she has you! She resorts to holding you and touching you when anxious

She loves you deeply, she will gladly show you off.

To anyone really! Except her father because 🙄 that old bitch

You're her concubine but she has no shame 🤭

She'll kiss your face, your nose and your lips all the time.

#my dearest love 💚

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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Being a writer is saying you're going to write and then doing literally anything else

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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Nah but for real, please please just just block people. Blocking people is self care, it’s not admitting defeat, it’s not being rude or vicious. Block people liberally, block people over petty things, block people who you don’t want to see the posts of on your dash ever again. Blocking people is better than pointless arguments and feeling yourself seethe. We’re just all strangers on a little blogging website and the world is on fire.

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}

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stonerwitch · 1 month

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Reblog if you support squishy bellies, have a squishy belly, or have the desire to summon satan

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stonerwitch · 3 months

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practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

#my bubbyyyyy #🐻🤍

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stonerwitch · 3 months

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i would apologize for all the carmy reader insert reblogs but im actually not even a little bit sorry because im having the time of my life 😁

#carmen berzatto is my invisible string i think #like no hes not real but…still #🐻🤍

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stonerwitch · 3 months

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nsfw alphabet with carmen berzatto

please minors dni 18+. smut ahead ;) enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

in the beginning, carmen was so bad at aftercare. he was a clinger and a cuddler, a little self conscious one too, but he didn't know after care was a thing really??? like would wipe you off and cuddle you, but when you started doing more intense or harsher things, you had to tell him "hey can you do a little more lol?" now, he's more thorough with a complete check afterwards. bath if you need one, food (ofc) or something to drink, more vocal too with praises and making sure you're not in a drop or shock, and still a clinger afterwards too lol.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his- his hands. he needs them to work and they're good at that apparently. good at drawing, and smoking, and holding your hand. good at smacking your ass until you cry or pulling on your hair. good at wiping your tears, holding your face in his palms, watching you suck on his fingers. watching them disappear in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. he's just... he does a lot with his hands lol.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

carmen is filthy with cum. maybe it's a territorial type thing, something primal inside of him, but he will paint you with his cum. your tummy, your tits, not so much your face bc you don't like it. inside of you is his favorite, esp when he makes you keep it in there after fucking you in the office or at a dinner party in the bathroom, you have to go out and pretend like nothing happened- dripping him down your leg the entire time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he's kinda into voyeurism??? a little bit lol. not actually in front of someone, he's too shy and possessive for that, but will finger you under the table at family dinners. likes it when you jack him off in public. having sex somewhere you might get caught, or where someone might find you or hear you. he always fucks you harder when someone might be around, lives for it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's not super experienced by any means, but seasoned enough to know what he's doing. probably a body count of three or four before you maybe. there's still a lot of things that are new to him (esp the kinkier things the two of you get into) but he's got the basics covered.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

the hook or the shoulder holder. anything where your legs are over his shoulders, preferably thighs to your chest and he's plowing the fuck outta you. makes you go numb and he loves when your thighs squeeze around his neck, nearly makes him pass out. he can go so deep and it feels so close for the both of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

depends on the mood. if he's being daddy carm, then he's very serious. if it's just you two fucking around or having sweet, sappy sex, then he can be a little more silly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

trimmed but a little on the wilder side. got a bush and a happy trail that you love. when you first started dating, he would try to trim it all the way, and you had to tell him you loved it. so now he keeps it. wild curly pubes that match his hair when it grows super long. you love it when he'll let it go full bush so you can just bury your face in it lol.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very romantic and lovey always. even after he's been a little mean to you, he is always quick to be sweet. very much so the type to say "i love you" every time in missionary... and every other position, but he's just sappy lol.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

used to jack off more when he was single and busy. less when mikey died and he took over the beef bc he was stressed to the max. now, he doesn't really ever jack off. you two fuck enough he doesn't have to, and he really doesn't have time lol.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he's a total soft daddy dom, which might come as a shock. a little bit of a brat tamer. nothing he loves more than putting you in your place. a big fan of "fucking the fussy out out you" and embarrassing you a little. ofc it's never severe bc carmen would have dom drop like a mf, but spanking you and then making you come out to family and sitting on your stinging ass, trying to pretend like it's nothing? gets him hard all over again.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

bedroom or kitchen. depends on how you're playing and fucking, or really what he needs. he'll bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there all night, but in the bedroom, he'll take his time with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you. just you. the knowledge that you like him and think he's attractive and are willing to have sex with hi. sometimes when you're bratty and a little mean, it wakes up his daddy side and gets him going to tame you, but really your existence.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything super intense that would leave a lasting mark or scar. super degrading, either way, he doesn't want to make fun of you or be too mean (outside of calling you a brat and impatient), certainly doesn't want yo to say it to him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he's a chef. he likes to taste his food. loves giving you head. unbelievably good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on the mood. usually he'll pound you out kinda slow but enough to leave you shaky, but really depends in the vibe.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

king of quickies. in the morning before work, if you come to visit him at work, sneaking home on a lunch break, before going to a friend's house, in the car. anywhere. he just doesn't have the time all the time so quickies make it easier.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's probably like sixty/ forty on risks. yes, he'll fuck you in the dressing room while you're trying on bikinis, but no, he won't spank you with a rolling pin are you out of your mind?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

depends on how tired he is. usually two, but if he's super amped up, can go as many as you need. can go all night if he has to.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

sorta toys? has a paddle (you bought him) for when you're really bad. the wooden spoon and spatula he uses for spanking you. you had a vibrator that he'll tease you with sometimes. and he bought you a few plugs when you were anal training and bc sometimes you're a brat and he plugs you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing king. endless teasing until your teary eyed and pouting and furious. the more you're on the edge, the more he likes it. likes to get you to that point you're nearly brain dead with pleasure, then will finally give in because nothing it better than watching you come undone.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's gotten better. used to be a few muffled whines and grunts that he was embarrassed of. now he dirty talks a lot. likes to kinda grunt-moan when he's fucking you, and sometimes you'll get lucky and he'll whimper right in your ear before he cums!!!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

big fan of mirror sex. likes holding you by your jaw while he fucks you roughly, making you watch yourself come undone, all while he grunts and hisses things in your ear. "look at you, fuck. this is what i see every time. get to see you- see you like this. lookin' all pretty and fucked out."

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's def thicker than mosts. thick and veiny- like his build. uncut (that won the poll) and i feel he'd be around seven or eight inches. enough to have you gawking and like... holy shit. he thinks it's not very big or impressive and you reassure him otherwise lol.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty insatiable. esp if he's well rested and not stressed, but even on those days, he just wants to fuck lol.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he's a cuddler and he'll pillow talk for a little bit then he's out lol. to quote nicki, pussy put his ass to sleep. and it is a deep sleep every time lol.

#🐻🤍

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