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rafeandonlyrafe · 5 days

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reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly.

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals.

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

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queenimmadolla · 4 months

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𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

“Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

“Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

“It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

“Branzino.”

“It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already.

Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion.

He was so proud and in love.

You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

“She was stretching.” He correctly deduced.

“Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

“Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

“Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

“No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

“Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

“Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

“I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

“And since she’s craving it─”

“She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

“You read it in a book, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Ask your doctor about it?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

“Branzino in the middle of winter.”

“It’s what she wants!”

“It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye.

“Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

“You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you.

That damn fish was so worth it.

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skipper19 · 8 months

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Imagine this..

Gojo absolutely loves the look of his pregnant wife wobbling around the home. He loves it a lot more than he thought he would. Gojo takes so many pictures of you. From the day of the big news, all the way to today.

"Satoru sto-Op!" You squeaked and giggled as you spoke. "I am allowed to dote on my pregnant wife, thank you very much." His low voice spoke very smugly into your ear. Despite your outward complaints, you still looked to the phone sitting on the kitchen counter and smiled. You blinked when the flash went off, and you rubbed your eyes.

"You take too many pictures of me.." You grumble. "Especially when I look like shit." You pouted and rested your hand on your swollen stomach. Gojo gasped and put a hand to his chest. "Shit? You're the most gorgeous woman I have ever met," He leans now and cups your jaw in his hands. "Especially in the mornings." He whispered softly before kissing you. You smiled into the kiss and felt your shoulders relax.

"Mm..if I wasn't already pregnant, I would drag you to bed until I am.." You mumbled happily against his lips. Gojo snickers and rolls his ocean eyes. "Keep talking like that, and I will drag you back to bed, despite already being pregnant." He smirked with lidded eyes. "Even if I'm 5 months pregnant?" You whispered. "Especially when you're 5 months pregnant." He pulled you into a passionate kiss after the words left his lips.

You both didn't leave the bed again until 6 pm.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

Gojo hurriedly washed his hands and ignored grabbing paper towels as he left, deciding to wipe his wet hands off on his pants instead. He was in too much of a rush to care anyway. His pregnant wife was all by her lonesome in the grocery store as he dealt with his bladder problem. He hated to leave you alone. He hated leaving you alone around other people even more.

Gojo sensed your cursed energy in the nearest aisle and quickly returned by your side. He smiled when he spotted you looking at the baby shoes that were huddled in a small pile on the corner of the shelf. Gojos eyes glanced to the clearance sign above the shelf and playfully rolled his eyes. "Didn't I say I wanted our baby girl to have the best quality clothes? Why are we in the clearance section?" He playfully scolded as he leaned his shoulder against the shelf with the shoes.

"Well, I remember saying that it doesn't have to be expensive, as long as it looks adorable on our baby boy." You retorted with a sly smile. Gojo huffed and shook his head. "Our baby girl has the best, strongest, and wealthiest father in all of Japan. I think she deserves to be spoiled." He crossed his arms, making you glance at the faint sight of his veins popping out. Amusement laced his eyes behind the dark shades adorning his handsome face.

"And I think our baby boy will care nothing about being spoiled, as long as it's comfortable." You shot back and quickly looked back down to the pair of shoes in your hand. Gojo felt his heart leap when you placed the boy shoes in the shopping cart before reaching back onto the shelf and grabbing a feminine pair of shoes as well. Gojo pushed himself from the shelf and walked behind you to wrap his arms around your growing belly.

"You are going to be an amazing mother." He whispered softly into your ear. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully. "You think so?" You placed your hands onto his. "I really do."

-----------------------------------------------------♤

It didn't take long for Gojo to realize you weren't in bed with him any longer. He was normally hyper aware when you would leave the warmth of his arms at night, but he had been even more of a light sleeper after you hit your 7 month mark.

Gojo didn't want to think of what he would do if something had happened to you.

He threw the covers off of himself before leaving the inviting warmth of the sheets. He quickly makes his way to the kitchen, only to find you quietly sitting at the marble island in the center of the room. You were minding your business as you nibbled away at your odd snack, a soft tune playing from the radio nearby. Gojo always insisted on buying speakers. That way, he could blast music from the TV, but you denied him every time. You always said that the radio was much better.

Gojo sighed and quietly walked up to you, his eyes grazing over your plump form. He couldn't help but smirk. You just looked so lovely as you sat there, munching away on your food, his shirt barely covering your body. Gojo was head over heels in love with you, that was obvious.

"Sneaking away from me just to get you a snack? How rude." Gojo softly said as he pouted. You jumped as his arms snaked around your body. You swatted at his muscular arms and shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Dont sneak up on a pregnant lady! You nearly made me drop my pickles.." You mumbled. Despite your annoyance, your body still leaned back to relax against his warm chest.

Gojo glanced at the food in your hands and resisted the urge to shiver. Pickles and marshmallows. "Mm, I wouldn't want to have to throw that snack away.." You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm and plopped the pickle and mini marshmallow in your mouth. "Shuddup."

-----------------------------------------------------♤

"You're doing so good, baby, just a few more pushes." Gojo encouraged you with soft spoken words and swift fingers caressing your hair. You wanted to yell at him to just shut up, but the pain you were feeling inhibited anything other than pained sounds.

Gojo hated seeing you in so much pain. Especially when he couldn't do anything to quell it. "Just one more push." The doctor said. If it weren't for the situation, Gojo knew better than anyone how embarrassed you would be right now. He leaned down closer to your ear. "One more push, sweetheart, and then we can meet our beautiful baby." He whispered softly. You gripped his hand tighter, thankful that his infinity was lowered, his touch grounded you. It kept you sane on a normal day, and you needed him more than ever right now.

"I can't.. I can't!" Your voice was hoarse and weak as you sobbed aloud. Gojo shook his head and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your skin as he spoke. "Yes, you can. I know you can. You're strong, the strongest woman I have ever met, I know you can do this." His words replayed like a symphony. You can do this. You are strong. You can do this. For your baby.

One final push, followed by a shout of pain, led to the cries of your baby echoing in the room. Gojo smiled and gulped down his nerves as he watched the nurses take away his baby to be cleaned.

You weren't in the same condition.

Your ears rang as your head pounded. You know your baby was finally delivered, so why couldn't you hear them? Your glazed eyes panicked to search the room for your child. "Sa-satoru?" Your voice weakly called out. His ocean blue eyes cast down to your face to see the concern and tears. His hand moved from your hair to your face as he wiped away your tears and tilted your gaze to meet his.

"I can't hear them crying. Are they okay?" You hiccuped. Gojos eyebrows furrowed slightly, yet he kept a warm smile on his face. "They are fine, don't worry." He reassured and kissed your sweaty forehead. His eyes glanced to the doctor, only to see a reassuring smile sent back his way. "It's normal for the mother to be disoriented after giving birth. It's a lot of strain on her body." The doctor said quietly.

Gojo sighed and briefly closed his eyes as his lips lingered against your forhead. His attention was directed to the nurse as she walked back with a small bundle in her arms. "Mrs. Gojo," the nurse called softly. Your eyes fell to her, then the bundle of life in her arms. A wobbly smile formed on your lips as you weakly reached out your arms for your baby. The moment the baby was rested against your chest, tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall.

Gojo couldn't help but tear up.

"It's a boy." The nurse spoke up. You tearfully giggled and gently ran your finger over your baby's cheek. "My baby boy.." You mumbled, a soft kiss landing on his head.

After a few moments of skin to skin contact and appreciation, you looked to Gojo. He didn't need you to say a word. He eagerly held his arms out for you to gently place his baby boy in his warm hold. On instinct, the man handled his son with nothing but gentle touch. You just knew he was going to be an amazing father. "God, look at you.. beautiful, just like your mama.." He cooed. You rested your hand on his arm. "Handsome, just like his daddy." You whispered with droopy eyes. He shakily sighed.

This is his family.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

"Thank you.. Thank you so much." Gojo mumbled into your ear. Your mind, despite being fogged, was able to register his words. "F-for what?" You gasped, your nails drawing blood from his pale skin. "For giving me a family." His words reverberated in your spine, causing your ears to tingle and your eyes to close in pleasure.

"I want to be selfish.." He spoke again. His movement picked up speed, quickly sucking the words from your throat. "I want one more. Give me one more -please baby, just one more.." But Gojo has always been a greedy man. One was never enough, and you knew this all too well.. "Please~" He begged, almost pathetically. You moaned aloud and grasped his face in your hands, pulling his lips to your own from where they once were on your neck.

"Give me it, Satoru.. give it to me."

#jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #pregnant reader #fluff #fanfic

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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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Put it on me - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

SUMMARY: A shared stash of moonshine leads to you pouring your heart out to Zoro. Despite his rather cold exterior, he takes your words seriously and asks you to put some of your burden on him if it ever gets too heavy.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.8k

Brought to you by my obsession with this painfully relatable song:

“Save some for me.”

Zoro’s voice wakes you up from the trance. You’ve been mindlessly drinking and reminiscing about the fight for what had to be at least two hours now. Enough time to slur your words and muddy your thoughts but the latter, as welcome as it would be, doesn’t seem to come. Flashes of scenes and echoes of voices still haunt you.

The swordsman nudges the axe you used to crack open the barrel. Quite crude but it works as it should - both a plug and a tap, depending on the blade's position. A spicy, dry stench fills the air as Zoro pours himself some of the dark-coloured moonshine.

He takes a large swing of the mysterious alcohol and winces. Very unlike him. A troubled cough escapes his chest.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The nightmare of hangovers yet to pass, I like to call it.” Used to the questionable taste of the beverage or simply numb due to your current state of light intoxication, you’re unbothered as you take another sip. The liquor burns your throat right down to your stomach. You can almost feel it wreaking havoc on your organism. Good. “We’re both alive and not blind, so definitely not methanol. Maybe it tastes like mouldy socks but it gets the job done.”

Zoro sits down on the ground next to you. His body is suspiciously close to yours, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, but you’ve grown used to it. It’s an open secret between the two of you - he’s allowing both himself and you this kind of intimacy as long as it remains unaddressed. If it did, he’d have to admit he’s not as aloof towards you as he likes to make himself look and that is not something Roronoa Zoro has the courage to confess.

“Why are you drinking alone?”

“I’m not. You’re here,” you say as you gently poke his arm.

He chuckles and shakes his head. Zoro takes another sip and winces again but not as much as before. The ‘mouldy socks’ flavour is growing on him. Or maybe it’s the alcohol content?

“You can’t fool me,” he says in a low, serious tone. “Something’s on your mind.”

Zoro looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze is bright, perceptive. Even if you try, you can’t lie and convince him that everything’s in order. It seems that Zoro already knows your mood is foul, just can’t quite put his finger on the why. For a man who claims to be unbothered and uncaring, he sure does spend a lot of time and energy and studying your little habits and quirks. One might even say he appears to have a particular affinity for you.

“I ate shit back in the village,” you mumble without looking at him. You almost puke bolting down the rest of the dark moonshine. “Complete failure. Embarrassing doesn’t cover even half of it.”

Stumbling over the air and your own feet, you get up and pour yourself another cup of alcohol. You can see Zoro’s troubled gaze following your movements but he doesn’t say anything or try to stop you, although he’s sure you’ve had enough of strong drinks for the night.

“You did fine,” he says awkwardly. Despite meaning his words, niceties still have a problem making it through his throat. “Aside from leaving your left flank wide open but you’d have to die and be reborn to stop doing that.”

Sitting back down next to Zoro, you lose your balance and fall on your backside. Some of the moonshine spills and soaks your shirt. You don’t care about the stain for now but you surely will in the morning when the putrid smell fills your bedroom and refuses to be washed out.

“It was everything but fine,” you scold him.

Surprised, Zoro looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Never before has he seen you so hung up about mistakes. Normally, you’d shrug and laugh and just say something along the lines of “shit happens, we’ll be better next time”. Still, no matter how much he racked his brain, he simply couldn’t think of anything in particular that could get you like that. Nothing about the day and its battles stands out to him.

“Nami getting hurt was my fault,” you admit. “Luffy and Usopp too. Shit, everything was my fault.” Out of frustration, you rub your face with your free hand.

“Nonsense,” he easily dismisses your self-blame. “You couldn’t have known about the whole human-turned-arsenal crap.” Zoro takes another swing of the mysterious moonshine. This time, he doesn’t wince or cough. Mouldy socks are beginning to taste like champagne. “I don’t think anyone could,” he adds quietly.

You hit the floor with a clenched fist.

“But I did, Zoro,” you drone your words. The image of the pirate captain is clear as day before your eyes. “That’s the thing. The moment I saw that man I knew something was wrong. He moved in a strange way and the way his clothes fit him… It was right there, in front of me. And I was blind like a drunk bat stuck in a pile of cow dung.”

“Hunch isn’t exactly the best strategy. You might as well have been wrong about him and attacked an innocent man.”

“Well, he wasn’t innocent, was he, Zoro?” The anger is rising within you. Why wouldn’t he just accept your fault? Why is he so frustratingly stubborn at putting the blame elsewhere? “I could have prevented all of this or at least given us an opportunity to prepare before Usopp got half of his bones broken with a cannonball. And all of this, Nami nearly dead, because when my moment came, I failed. I hesitated. I questioned my judgment. Like I always do.”

The wooden floor is hit yet again when you look for a way to let out your anger.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but,” Zoro makes a pause and clears his throat,” you’re being too hard on yourself.”

A silence falls between you.

The air in the cramped storage room is stuffy, soaking with a plethora of strong smells: damp wood, smoked fish, the dark liquor you’re drinking with the swordsman, aged cheeses that Sanji seems to be a fan of, roasted coffee beans… But all of those aromas are strangely comforting to you, the smells that remind you of a gathering of adventurous underdogs that have grown to be a family.

A gathering that you’ve almost killed today with your incompetence.

“Truthfully, I wish I was like you,” you finally break the silence. Zoro gives you a questioning look. “You never fail, always prepared and ready to fight. Even when you do make mistakes, which is rare might I add, you can prevent anyone else from getting hurt because of you. I wish I had the power to always do the right things and do them well. When will a day come when I finally know how to act? What to do? I make the same stupid mistakes over and over again and nothing seems to change no matter how hard I try. Maybe I’m just broken and you lot are doomed for hanging around me.” For a moment, you look into your cup. Your reflection in the dark beverage is rippling, making your face hardly recognizable. Just like when you compare who you are to who you should be. “At least in my mind, in my fantasies, I'm the hero that saves me,” you whisper to yourself and down the rest of your drink. It’s easier to be delusional when you can’t string a coherent sentence.

The realization hits Zoro like a derailed train. Of course he’s never seen you get hung up over your mistakes - you’ve been holding it inside, beating yourself up away from everyone’s eyesight. Your otherwise happy-go-lucky exterior is a mere facade, the face of someone you’d like to be. And the more you realize it’s not your true face, the more upset you get. How long have gone holding yourself to an impossible ideal? Hating yourself for being anything but perfect and imposing?

How heavy is the real burden on your shoulders?

"I'll do it for you,” he offers quietly.

Your confused gaze meets the confident glint in his eyes. He looks sure of himself - more certain than he normally is. A smile threatens to pull up one corner of his lips.

"Do what?" you ask.

"I'll be the hero that saves you."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips and echoes throughout the small storage closet. The sound bounces off the wooden walls and comes back to you with a certain depth and delay, making you feel as though it’s the world laughing at you and the poor sod that offers to help you - you don’t hold hands with someone who easily catches on fire, burning everything around them. That’s just stupid.

“Thanks but that still makes me the world’s biggest loser who can’t put the money where their mouth is and is stuck in a perpetual cycle of doom.”

You look away, staring ahead, but Zoro’s eyes linger on you. Sure, he can fight pirates and animals and fishmen and all the strange horrors lurking in the world but how in hell is he going to fight something immaterial? How powerless he feels with three swords at his side and yet no way to fight the foul-tongued beast in the back of your head.

"Just put it on me," he presses on. "If you need help, put it on me. If you're going through Hell, put it on me.” Then, to your surprise, he firmly grabs your hand, squeezing it in a meaningful manner. “Seriously."

You try to wiggle your palm out of his hold but it proves useless - his grip is iron, although not painful. No matter how much you’re enjoying this uncharacteristic intimacy, you know better than to get used to it. Zoro deserves better than to be the victim of your ricochet.

“You’ve got enough on your head already,” you say in a stern voice. “My own bullshit is the last thing you need.”

For the first time in weeks, Roronoa Zoro smiles. It’s not a smile of amusement, of being entertained. No, it’s a smile of seeing something, or someone, he holds dear. In other words, it’s not his mind that rejoices but his very heart and soul.

“I want to worry about you,” he confesses.

Tears are prickling at your eyes and you’re doing everything you can to keep them from falling. Alas, you’re quite far from sober and self-control is not an ability within your grasp. Your face feels hot as teardrops slowly roll down your cheeks.

A bitter scoff leaves your lips. “It will be an unending horror.”

“I’m not afraid,” he reassures you casually. “And we’re in the middle of the sea. I’ve got time.”

Hesitantly, you rest your head against his chest. Zoro welcomes the gesture, letting go of your hand and putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself.

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mercurygguk · 9 months

Text

head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind.

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here.

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project.

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin.

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him?

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird.

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it…

It’s a really good iced americano.

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thesunisatangerine · 5 months

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part twelve (final part)

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: mentions of grief, suggestive content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5.2k

This wasn’t the first time you caught yourself thinking how difficult it was to have two professional athletes in your life, and it also wasn’t the first time you wondered how their bodies could store so much energy.

“Princess, slow down a bit. I think your mom needs to rest again.”

Even with the distance, you could hear the teasing cadence in Alexia’s voice, made prominent by the use of her mother tongue, and you watched as the both of them slowly came to a halt, turning their heads to look at you over their shoulders. At the extra attention, your cheeks heated with more than the exertion and, as pride urged you to save face, you pushed yourself to pedal quicker so you could lose the distance between you and them, stopping with a relieved wheeze when you finally arrived at their tail. Although amusement graced their features with a lightness, their ever-present disquietude–try as they might to hide it–shone clear in their eyes for you to see.

“Mom, are you okay?” Came Elisa’s question and, upon removing her cycling sunglasses, you found her brows furrowed.

You only managed to give her a thumbs up as your breath still eluded you, but when it returned, you added, “Yep. Just–just need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Seriously, Mom, you don’t have to push yourself too much.” Elisa placed a gentle hand on your back, rubbing circles as if she was trying to expel the malaise there.

“Ladybug, I appreciate the concern, really, and I may be no athlete but I can do this, thank you very much.”

Elisa raised her brow at you, clearly unconvinced, before she muttered deliberately loud enough for you to hear, her tone excessively dry. “Yeah? At this rate, by the time we get to the beach, the sun will be gone.”

Despite your state, a laugh bubbled from your throat when Alexia flicked Elisa’s arm who yelped dramatically, scaring a couple of birds to flight from a nearby tree, before she grinned and stuck her tongue out at Alexia.

“Be nice,” Alexia reprimanded but the quirk at the corner of her lips betrayed the seriousness of her tone, clearly amused.

Elisa grumbled as she rubbed her arm, “I’m not the one who’s making her laugh! If she passes out, it’s on you.”

Ignoring Elisa’s point, Alexia reached out and rubbed your arm in a soothing manner, speaking softly, “But really, love, if you can’t go on, we’ll just Uber there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m fine.” You grunted, letting a bit of your annoyance bleed in your tone, but you appreciated the thought behind their concern nonetheless. It was just, Alexia and Elisa’s protectiveness exceeded that of Derek’s–a feat in and of itself–and no matter how much you tried to assuage their doubts, they still hovered. And the only way to stop it was to let them know you were vexed. Then you added with a huff, “You two just have such ridiculous stamina. It’s not fair.”

“Alright, as long as you say so.” Alexia said, taking your answer in stride by putting her hands up as if in surrender. But then she smirked, adding in a low tone, “And it’s well earned, my love.”

Your brows raised, both surprised and pleased with the innuendo, before you smirked back and spoke in the same tone as she did. “And so you say.”

The moment was broken when Elisa let out a mixture between a sigh and a groan.

“No offense, but if you guys are done flirting, could we please get a move on? We’re about to lose daylight.”

At that, the three of you started again, Elisa taking the lead as Alexia fell into pace beside you. Then Alexia turned to you, mischief clear in the gleam in her eyes, and she muttered, “Remind me to tease her the next time Camilo comes over, hm?”

“I heard that!”

Much to Elisa’s delight, the three of you arrived at the beach with just enough time to spare before the sun began to set. You got off your bikes and began to lead it by your sides as the three of you began to walk the length of the shore.

Apart from a handful of people strolling about, the beach was barren today, and the lack of a crowd made the place more peaceful to you. And as buried your toes further into the pleasantly lukewarm sand, as you took in the breeze delivered home by the waves which carried a breath of freshness and a promise of another good day in the morrow, you regarded the sun, in her blazing glory, painting the skies with one last glimpse of her radiance.

Enraptured by the sight, you stopped and rested your bike against your thigh, rummaged through your bag for your camera to capture it. Once done, you turned to Alexia and Elisa who were farther along now, seemingly so immersed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed you’d lagged behind. You watched them, their figures half bathed in the titian brilliance of the setting sun which made their shadows stretch long along the shoreline, and the sight stirred emotions in your chest that you felt compelled to capture them as they were: Alexia with her arm across Elisa’s back, one hand on Elisa’s broadening shoulder, while both of their bikes rested on their outer legs. As you were looking through the viewfinder, you saw Elisa’s bike fall to its side as Elisa wrapped her arms around Alexia, alarming you at first before you saw the scene as it was. You didn’t dare approach them; the moment, you perceived, was too tender for such an intrusion so you remained where you were, capturing the scene with your camera for safekeeping.

Shortly after, they walked back towards you in silence. Alexia’s gaze remained casted down as she tried to subtly brush her tears away with the back of her hand but when she caught your gaze, she knew you knew, but instead of asking about it, you only gave her an understanding smile–she’d tell you when she was ready. But Elisa, much as she tried, had always struggled with keeping her countenance free from emotions–a stark contrast to Alexia who, from years of practice, could school her features to faultless stoicism in a moment–and couldn’t deter the somberness from showing on her face for when she smiled at you as if to pacify you, her lips remained crooked with telltale signs of her affliction, chin trembling. The sight tugged at your heart, as it always did whenever you saw any of them this way, so you reached and cupped her cheek, brushing your thumb under her eye to try and soothe her. Elisa closed her eyes at your touch and when she opened them again, the weight in them looked lighter, and you smiled.

As the last traces of the sun sank under the horizon, you loaded your bikes on the rack attached to Elisa’s car which you parked there earlier that day, and Elsia drove up the mountain you just rode down on so she could drop you both off at Alexia’s car. Once there, Elisa helped you unload your bikes from her car and transfer it to the other car, and then it was time for goodbyes.

Alexia had to crane her neck up slightly so she could rest her chin against Elisa’s shoulder as they hugged. Alexia kissed her cheek, then patted her on the back as she said, “Drive safe, love. And don’t be late tomorrow.”

“I will and got it, Coach. I love you.”

You stepped in next, kissing Elisa, too, on the cheek as she stooped down to wrap her arms around you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, ladybug. I love you. Be safe.”

“See you, Mom, and I love you, too.”

With that, the glow from the taillights of Elisa’s car receded into the darkness while the both of you got into Alexia’s car, heading for home. The ride was quiet except from the music that came from the radio, the volume so low it was almost like a hum, as Alexia drove with a steady hand, her face impassive but her eyes disclosed she was anything but serene.

Still, you held your tongue.

You had chipped away at Alexia’s emotional wall over the years you’d known her, enough that she now allowed herself to be vulnerable around you without being prompted to open up, but there were still instances which required patience, moments that asked for time until she was ready to come to you. And this was one of those times.

It didn’t worry you too much, though. The both of you had agreed to never let anything go unsaid–to never let things fester–until the next morning, so you gave her space now to mull things over.

Later that night, as expected, after spending the majority of the evening in her office, she greeted you with a soft murmur of your name, taking your hand and kissing the back of it as she settled on her side of the bed, drawing your attention away from the book you were reading.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” You asked softly, putting your book aside on the bedside table, shifting against the pillow you were propped on so you could see her better. The angle of the light casted shadows on her face and made the lines that time etched on her face more prominent, and it made her look more inviting; her earthly beauty made more resplendent.

The question that came was spoken with the faintest of air.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

At first, the question confounded you and for a moment, you were at a loss for words to answer her. But as you continued to regard her with an even more careful eye, you found a silent vulnerability in her eyes, so heartrendingly delicate, a rare look you only saw whenever she talked about–Oh.

Oh, Alexia…

Emotions surged through you, chest tightening as it ached with your lover; as it ached for the pain and grief that will forever live with her–for the love in her that had nowhere to go, permanently in search for a beloved soul.

Gently, you cradled her face in your hands, soaking in every feature, every freckle, every blemish and every line. You carded your fingers through her hair, consoling, then you traced her brow with the pad of your thumb before you kissed her temple and lingered there, then the skin just beneath her eye, then the bridge of her nose, and then the corner of her lips.

“I see… everything that makes you,” you breathed out, voice trembling under the weight of your emotions. “Your mother’s brows and the color of her eyes… the shape of your father’s eyes, his nose, his smile. Their love lives in your skin and it’s all you, Alexia. I see you. Oh, how I see you.”

At your words, Alexia’s face broke: her lips trembled, brows furrowing, while tears streamed down her cheeks. Then she dropped her head to your shoulder, a sob leaving her throat as she clung to you and you held her just as tight.

“I miss him.” Alexia choked out, “God, I miss him so much. It’s been so long and yet it still feels like I only just lost him today.”

Oh, the familiar paroxysms of grief. Most days, you remained untouched by their shadows but the intensity by which they instill the pain of loss when they did get you, how they stretch that empty space in your heart into an abyss filled with teeth, was something else entirely. Agonizing, yes, but it was also a bittersweet repose for it served as a reminder of who loved you and who you loved.

The moment that followed was spent in silence, apart from the soft stutter of Alexia’s breaths.

“I told Elisa that her parents would be proud of her, that I wish I could meet them and tell them all about how their daughter turned out to be this wonderful person. And you know what she said?” Alexia laughed, teary and voice hoarse. “She told me she wished she could meet Papá but at the same time, she felt like she already had. She told me I look just like him.”

“You do. And he’d be so proud of you, you know?” You whispered as your own tears fell while you gripped her hand in yours. “And I wish I could’ve met him, too, and Elisa’s.”

Alexia lifted her head so she could look at you, murmuring softly, “And I wished I could’ve met yours, too.”

Through the night, you exchanged whispered stories of the past as you held each other, shedding tears at Alexia’s recollections, laughing at the memories. But how sad it was that loss made your shadows long, all three of you? And how beautiful it was that one’s capacity for love–though at times could stray or waver–could never truly be lost even after a deprivation from the loss of a source? But wasn’t that how lives intertwine? Through shared suffering? Through the bitter grief and the sweetest joy? And wasn’t it where lives intertwined that love bloomed? And in this world of shadows–in these long, seemingly endless nights–warmth and light were all the more precious, and love… Love was both of those things and more: it was an enduring flame, so quintessentially human, an evermore of the sublimest kind.

Love was never lost, you knew this. Life would end but love would always remain; it did long before you, and it would continue on long after you.

But you were here, in love, loved, and alive. Could you ask for something better than this state of grace?

The answer echoed in clarity in your mind long before Alexia’s comforting warmth and the gentle beat of her heart had lulled you to sleep.

No.

Nothing could ever come close to this.

Tomorrow came with a splendid radiance, casting everything in a golden tone likened to that of a developed photograph which made the colors vibrant and inviting; the kind that promised that the memories made today would be looked fondly back on in one’s recollections. Waking up to the sight of Alexia in your arms made today all the more brighter for she held the vision to what the world had to offer; all the beauty and warmth in this world began and ended with her.

True to her words, Elisa appeared on the porch first thing in the morning. You opened the door for her, which also revealed her hand intertwined with Camilo's, who looked on devotedly at you daughter as she stepped into Alexia’s embrace, and then yours.

The three of you had prepared most of the things yesterday before you went cycling, but there was still much to do before the hour came for the others to arrive. So, the four of you paired up and went to work. Alexia and Elisa were delegated to setting up outside, while you and Camilo set up inside.

Your attention flitted to the two of them outside as you cooked but before the end of the hour, they’d finish installing the extension roof over the open gazebo, had moved and arranged the tables and chairs, and finished spreading a light blue linen over the tables before laying a strip of folded fabric of a lighter color in the middle. As for you and Camilo, you’d about finished with the arròs negre and the fideuà when Alexia and Elisa came in.

They stepped into the kitchen to grab the plates, glasses, and utensils laid on the counter–but not before Alexia snuck in a sweet kiss on your cheek, a diversion, you thought, so she could steal a spoonful of the fideuà; Elisa, too, grabbed a bite to eat which was fed to her with gentle affection by her lover–which they then arranged on the table.

After a moment of tending to the food, you looked through the opening that gave a view outside and saw the two setting up the party games for the kids. In an act true to their professions, they’d began setting up Elisa’s old folding goal posts, the backyard expansive enough to accommodate them, even sneaking in a couple of juggles and shots after they’d inflated a handful of balls.

(When Alexia caught your eye, she rubbed the back of her neck, putting a hand up in apology–Elisa laughed but she immediately shut her mouth to a bashful smile when your eyes flitted to her–before the both of them returned to their task.)

You watched Camilo in awe as he worked on the coca bread, empanadas, and ensaimadas all at once while you started on the esqueixada. Although you’d seen more of his intricate works, it wasn’t the first time you caught yourself amazed by the skills and work ethics of the aspiring patissier. After the last batch of pastry was put in the oven, the first of your guests arrived.

To your surprise–but not really for you had held enough family gatherings to expect it–you and Alexia’s immediate families came first, more than an hour early, and Elisa was greeted and congratulated as Eli, Alba, your mom, Derek and Robert, and their two-year-old daughter, Olivia, passed the door Elisa had opened for them.

And in typical fashion, their maternal instincts kicked in and Eli and your mom gathered around the kitchen, looking over the food, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at them as they fussed over you, not with malice, until you playfully shooed them away.

“Honestly, we can hold down the fort here. Right, Camilo?”

Camilo, bless his shy and gentle soul, flushed, darkening the olive complexion of his cheeks, as he just nodded in agreement.

You stuck your thumb to the direction of the back field and said, “The two outside, however, might need a little help.”

At that, you heard an offended, “Hey!”

(It was Alexia.)

But your mom, Eli, and Alba proceeded to the back, placating the pouting Alexia with a hug, and they chatted and caught up while they helped Alexia with the grill.

About half an hour later, Mapi and Ingrid arrived with Anton–their toddler of one and a half years old–asleep in Mapi’s arms. Alexia’d welcomed them in, embracing her old teammates, which roused Anton from his sleep. When Mapi set him down, he blinked around, taking in his surroundings with his big eyes, and when they settled on Olivia, he giggled and stuck his tiny hands out, recognising a familiar, friendly face.

Olivia and Anton played in the living under Ingrid and Derek’s supervision, the two of them chatting on the couch, while Mapi and Robert came over to check on you and Camilo. They then headed out into the back and shortly after, laughter filtered inside and when you looked through the yawning, Robert was gesturing wildly in the air, and, you believed, he’d started telling one of his intricately conceived comedies to his audience.

When Ingrid and Derek brough Anton and Olivia outside, Eli and your mom–as was the tendency of grandparents presented with children–fussed over the little ones, cooing and awwing at their slightest movement. You stopped what you were doing to take in the warm scene, so distracted were you that you didn’t feel Alexia’s presence until she’d wrapped an arm around your waist as she placed a kiss on your temple.

You sighed, leaning into her touch, but you remembered you’d been in the kitchen for the last couple of hours. So, you pushed her away gently with your shoulder, whining, “Stop, I smell like food.”

To your chagrin, Alexia turned you around with enough force to make you squeal, before she made a show of burrowing her nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in loudly, and the movement tickled a giggle from your lips.

“Alexia!” You smacked her shoulder playfully, still laughing. “Stop, seriously, I smell horrible!”

“Oh, really? I can’t really tell. You smell delicious all the same.” She muttered against your ear, a hand splayed just over the bottom of your right rib. The statement made you flush in spite of yourself, your body too in tune with her wiles and you found yourself stepping closer to her before you remembered where you were.

“Alexia, our mothers are literally right there, don’t start.” You warned her under your breath, glancing where said persons were sitting beneath the shade of the gazebo, doting over the little ones.

“Fine,” sighed Alexia, pouting, but she took the ladle from you anyway, kissing you on the cheek. “Go freshen up and I’ll look after the food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be quick so you can shower before the rest gets here.”

You pecked her on the lips, grateful, and just when you thought she’d finally stopped with her shenanigans, a mischievous gleam glazed over her eyes and Alexia said with a suggestive half-smile.

“Or I can always join you? You know, to save water and all that.” She spoke it in a smug way, like someone who was pleased at having said the last words. And you were about to reprimand her again until you remembered something. When Alexia got like this, there was only one way to go about it: to play her game.

So you looked at her, making sure you dropped your lids just enough–the change in your demeanor instantly noticed by the way she stilled, staring at you with wide eyes and bated breath–and you stepped into her space, trailing a finger from her chest to her collarbone before you wrapped your arms loosely around her neck, going on your tiptoes and craning your neck forward until your lips brushed her ear.

“Keep that up and you won’t get any tonight.” You whispered low. You didn’t miss the way she shivered against you and you relished it. “You do want to take me, don’t you?”

Alexia nodded, as if on autopilot, her figure stiff.

“Okay. So, play nice until I get back, yeah?”

Alexia croaked out an agreement and, satisfied, you pulled back, taking in Alexia’s appearance, her pupils now blown and a delicious crimson streak had painted her cheeks, lips now slightly parted. With one last peck to her lips, you fled the kitchen.

When you passed the living room to get to the stairs, you saw Mapi and Derek sitting on the couch, and, upon seeing you, their lips curled into a knowing smirk, and Derek–the jerk–had the audacity to wag his brows at you.

“I think you broke her.” Mapi wheezed out while Derek clapped a hand on his thigh as he laughed. Your cheeks flushed and you ducked your head as you flew up the stairs.

After immersing yourself in a much needed cold shower, you headed down to the kitchen and relieved Alexia–who was still more than a little dazed when you got back to her– from her kitchen duty with a placating kiss on the cheek so she could freshen up herself. Half an hour later saw you and Camilo, and with a little help from Derek and Alba, finished with moving most of the food to the table outside, just in time as most of your guests arrived.

One minute there were only a handful of people lounging in the backyard, the next the space was lively with music and the sound of amiable company; the chatter from friends and family. The lunch commenced and after the toast for Elisa’s recent signing under Barçelona Femeni’s First Division, Elisa stood to thank everyone for coming. And then, she turned to you and Alexia, who wrapped an arm around your waist, steady and strong.

“To my mom and Coach,” Elisa’s deliberate emphasis drew laughter from everyone, while Alexia raised her brow, lips quirking in amusement at the light jibe.

“To my mom and Mamá,” Elisa corrected herself, and she proceeded with a choked voice, eyes reddening, “I am forever grateful for what you’ve done for me. For all your love, your continued support and comfort, and for believing in me. I love you. I love you so much.”

You clasped a hand over your own lips in fear that a sob would escape them but tears spilled down your face all the same, and you gripped Alexia’s hand on your hip as your chest filled with love. When you turned to Alexia, her lips were pressed in a thin line, chin trembling, as she tried to keep the tears at bay, her eyes, like yours, shone with pride.

And so there you were, much later, under the shade of one of the trees in the backyard, nursing a glass of something stronger than champagne–Mojito to be exact–regarding the scene before you with a warmness that, you knew, transcended that of the sun’s.

Elisa was in jovial conversation with her friends and Ingrid–football related, you supposed, by the way Ingrid gestured in the air and the way her juniors were listening attentively; Camilo engaged in what seemed to be an interview by your mom and Eli–for recipes, most likely–while Derek and Lucía–Irene’s wife–looked on them with amused expressions as the both of them talked; Mapi and Robert partook in a game of football as goalkeepers on opposite teams: Mapi, Mateo, and Olivia against Robert, Gabriel–Irene and Lucía’s second son, Mateo’s junior of three years–and Anton; Alexia and Irene, meanwhile, stood to one side, their hands clasped behind their backs, as they stood a vigilant watch over the children, commenting on the game with a light tone, exclaiming and clapping their hands every now, true to their profession.

The air was filled with glee, painting the atmosphere with a lightness of not only of the physical sense, but also of being that you couldn’t help but reminisce.

Alexia retired from football about two years prior but, as expected, the sport was never really done with her–or her with it. So, the Number Eleven jersey may have been put away, but Coach Alexia Putellas was very much involved with the growth of new Blaugrana bloods, involving herself with–and quite capably–developing and guiding Barça’s youth team. Although she was called to lead the Spanish Women’s National Football Team, after their years of continuous fighting for reform, Alexia rejected the offer for–in her own words–her heart belonged to Barcelona, leaving the responsibility to fall on Irene’s shoulders who had accomplished plenty in the short time she’d managed the team.

You, on the other hand, flourished in sport photography, accompanying Alexia or Elisa in most of their matches as per your contract with the club. But you were still very much part of the firm you and Derek built, larger now, involving yourself in its internal affairs and, if necessary, partaking in the journalistic side of things.

Speaking of, after Derek and Robert moved in together somewhere in your home city–even more so after Olivia was born–he gave you this Barcelona house despite your deep insistence that you’d buy it from him, but not without saying a little side remark, ‘You guys did the nasty there already. Keep it.’

You’d always wondered where home was, but now, as you took in the scene before you, and even more when you beheld the woman walking towards you, you knew, in your heart, where it was.

When she got to you, Alexia took your hand, lifted it, and she twirled you around gently, taking your glass from your other hand and placing it on a nearby surface. And as you stopped, she stepped into the space behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist as the both of you settled to a gentle sway in time with the music.

“What are you doing back here all by yourself?” She asked beside your ear but not before she pressed a chaste kiss on the side of your head.

“Just thinking.” You murmured, closing your eyes for a moment to better savor the feel of her body, strong and gentle.

Alexia hummed, you felt the rumble of it from her chest before you heard it right beside your ear, melodic, before she pressed a kiss on your bare shoulder. “About what, my love?”

“This. Us.” You lifted one of her hands, brushed your lips over her knuckles. “You.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“With you? Always.”

The both of you swayed and simply watched the scene in silence for a moment. Then a thought occurred to you but as you were about to voice it, Alexia beat you to it.

“The kids, they grow up so fast.” Alexia said in a wistful tone.

“They do. I still can’t believe Elisa turned 18 this year.”

Alexia sighed, “Oh, to be young again.”

You snickered. “You make it sound like we’re so much older. And it’s not that bad, is it?”

“No, not really.” A pause, then, “But that’s less time left loving you both.”

The softness of her answer wasn’t lost to you and your mind went to the conversation you had just the night before and your heart ached, so full with your love for this woman. You leaned back, enough that you could feel the way her heart beat through her shirt, and you squeezed her hand.

You turned your head so you could rest your forehead against the line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you sighed, “You know, you say and do these things that make me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Good. I’d like to keep it that way.” Alexia murmured. “And I will never stop loving you. You’re my person, always. I did tell you, didn’t I?”

The memory of white fabric, white petals thrown in a line between the pew chairs, trembling hands; the way the sun light shone on Alexia’s light brown hair and spun gold in them, her hazel eyes glassy and earnest and filled with so much love, and then, her words of promise; of always and forever.

She’d taken your right hand into the open palm of her left, a twin set of silver bands that rested on the fourth finger of each hand glinting in the late afternoon sun, as she pressed further into you, her cheek now resting against your temple. With your other hand, you cradled hers, tracing the coolness of the metal on her finger with your thumb.

Then you whispered, “I love you, Alexia. So much.”

“And I love you, my wife.”

And just like all the times you’d heard it, you shivered all the same.

“I’ll never tire of hearing that.” You admitted as you turned in the embrace, immediately wrapping your arms loosely around Alexia’s neck after, fingers gently playing with her hair as you looked into those resplendent and doting eyes. And you asked just barely above a whisper, “Can you say it again?”

She brushed a strand behind your ear, tracing the line of your brow before her hands settled on your hips, eyes now lidded with even more affection.

“Ask me who I am.” Alexia said in the same tone, leaning close that you could feel the brush of her lips over yours.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alexia,” she whispered, and then she added with a smile.

“Your wife.”

And then, you kissed her.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#weve finally come to the end and i just want to say thank you all for the love and support #i hope you stay safe this new year's eve and i hope 2024 will treat you all kindly #again; thank you #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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lizlazer · 2 years

Text

homecoming

tangerine x fem!reader

3.5k words

rated E, nsfw, no minors y’all

thanks to @basichextechml and northerngalxy for being my beta readers!

this was supposed to be a short, silly little fic about having a “good time'' with Tangerine and how he keeps getting interrupted by Lemon constantly calling his phone. it is now 3.5k words. i also ended up tying in some small details from the book. this is my first time writing smut in a while so enjoy!

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Tangerine has been away so long, the longest you two have been apart since you started seeing each other.

Lemon had driven him to your apartment from the airport without Tangerine even telling him that this was the only place he wanted to go. This last job had a high reward, but it was one of the more brutal jobs he’d ever done. It had involved weeks of surveillance, an agonizing stint undercover, and one of the most vicious fights of his life. And every night, often under a cold shower watching someone else’s blood circle the drain, he'd think of you. He knocks at your door, but waits a total of five seconds before kicking it open.

You were standing at your kitchen sink, hands submerged in soapy dishwater. The knocking makes you stop, and you listen closely until the door is kicked in. You grab a knife from the drying rack and step into the hall, terrified that it’s some enemy coming to collect. Instead, it’s a very disheveled Tangerine.

You come to an abrupt halt, knife hand dropping limply to your side as he stomps into the entryway. Upon looking up and seeing you, he slows, his arms also falling to his sides, dropping his coat and bag. “Fucking hell, have I missed you, love,” he says.There’s a deep cut across his eyebrow, and he’s got a split bottom lip. Dressed in well-tailored but wrinkled black suit pants, his white shirt is equally wrinkled and smeared with dirt all over, and what could be a little blood at the collar. The shirt is hanging open, and his gold medallion glistens in the afternoon light around him.

He starts toward you, but you hold up the knife, pointing it at him.

“You said you’d call every other day, or text, or something to let me know you’re still alive,” you say in a low, angry voice, emphasizing each mode of communication with a stab of the blade. It had been a week since you’d had word from him. For a while you had forced yourself to be calm, patient, but seeing him now, alive and well, releases a dam of pent up feelings. You’re fighting dueling urges to cry and scream at him.

He holds his hands up, his gold chain bracelet sliding down his muscled forearm. “I tried, I swear. There was no helping it.” He gives you a tired, defeated look. “Things went tits up, the phone was used as an incendiary device, and we had to lay very low. I stowed away on a goddamn plane to get here!”

He steps closer, slowly reaching his hand toward the knife, but you quickly stick the point of it against the underside of his chin. Stupid of him to get that close to you when you’re this angry.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it, be the cool girlfriend, but I was fucking worried, Tan.” The blade isn’t overly sharp, a well loved and well used chef’s knife, and you let it slowly drag down his throat, softly over his Adam's apple. It bobs as he swallows, and he starts to feel his energy coming back, or maybe it’s just his pants getting suddenly tight. The tip of the knife comes to rest at the hollow of his throat.

“Fucking hell, I still think you’re ‘the cool girlfriend,’ whatever the fuck that means. Darling, I missed you so goddamn much.” He moves a little closer despite the knife digging in a little bit more, his hands moving up to cup your face. “Can you put the knife down now so I can bend you over the dining room table?”

He’s never been a very proper gentleman, but the request is so vulgar that you let out a small laugh despite yourself. Carefully, you set the knife on a nearby table in the entryway. In the next instant his lips are against yours in a heated, breathless kiss. After a second, you start to taste copper from his bleeding lip. His mustache is coarse against your skin, but you only kiss him harder. His hands move from your face, running down your arms to rest at your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your hands slide into his hair, tangling in his messy curls. You grab a fistful of hair and tug, and he groans into your mouth. His hands leave your hips to squeeze your ass, barely covered by cotton pajama shorts. You can feel him inching his fingers up and underneath the fabric of your shorts and panties

He breaks the kiss, pressing his lips along your cheek and jawline, up to your earlobe. Taking it between his teeth, he alternates between biting and licking. His tongue feels like it’s a thousand degrees against your skin, and the chill of his breath on the trails of saliva makes you tremble against him.

“Tell me how much you need this,” he says into your ear, nipping at the lobe one last time before dropping kisses and bites along your neck again.

Just as you’re about to respond, a tinny electronic song starts playing. Tangerine freezes as if he’s been shot, and you feel something vibrating in his pocket. Before he can pull away, you reach into his pants and pull out a silver flip phone.

“You fucking bastard,” you say, voice back to its quiet angry tone. The caller ID flashes LEMON in the tiny pixel screen. “You’ve had a phone this whole time, and couldn’t be fucked to give me a ring?” Your voice is rising, but Tangerine is stunned silent.

“Listen, really listen to me,” he pleads, reaching for the tiny phone. “I have no fucking idea how I have that.” It was true. He’d been dog tired by the time the plane had landed, jostled repeatedly in a storage area that definitely wasn’t meant to transport people. Lemon had slept the entire time, squeezed shoulder to shoulder with his brother in the tiny compartment. When they’d landed and successfully dodged all airport staff and security, Lemon had said something about getting a car and wandered off. But wait. Had he also said something about grabbing phones? As soon as Lemon pulled a car around to the pick up area, Tangerine folded himself into the passenger seat and fell into a deep sleep. He’d only just woken up right before he kicked in your door. Had Lemon slipped him the phone while he was out?

Good ol’ Lemon was actually being a “useful train” for once, but of course it would backfire magnificently for Tangerine.

You throw the phone at him, and it bounces hard off his chest, but he manages to catch it. While he flips it open and greets Lemon, you storm away back to the kitchen. Tangerine tries to reach after you, grab you before you get away, but he fails and nearly falls flat on his face.

“Fuck!” he yells, frustrated in more ways than one.

“You good, bruv?” Lemon asks. “Little early to be upset after a successful gig, yeah?”

Tangerine stares after you, raking a hand through his hair. The memory of you pulling it seconds ago makes his cock twitch.

“Not our most successful. What’d you need?” Tangerine tersely asks, tonguing the cut on his lip. He can taste blood.

“What’s got you irritated? You’re back for two seconds and you’re already fighting with her? Must be a personal best for you,” Lemon says. “Or personal worst, I s’pose.” Before Tangerine can rip him a new one, Lemon continues, “I checked on the rest of our pay. It’s all been deposited into the account.” He pauses, takes a breath. Tangerine clears his throat, impatient. “And, alright, I took a little bit. Thought I might treat myself to a very nice dinner.”

“That’s great, Lemon. I hope you fucking choke on it.” Tangerine can hear you resuming your dish washing, the soft sounds of running water and clinking glass floating into the hallway.

Lemon clicks his tongue. “Take a breath. Christ. While I was checking on the money, Momo sent a message. Tip for another job, but she only said that we could find the full details in a ‘chartreuse tome’ in the historical society’s archives,” he says, making his accent more posh when he mentions the book. He’s actually being incredibly productive for once. Tangerine’s impressed, but also too tired and hard to appreciate it.

“Again, fantastic, Lemon. Get the fucking book and don’t call again until you have it.” Tangerine hangs up before he can respond, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He’s confident that Lemon can handle finding a book on his own. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in one long exhale before heading to the kitchen.

It’s an open concept with the dining room just on the other side of the counter from where you’re currently occupied. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You try to ignore him, focusing on the task in front of you. He sighs loudly and dramatically, clearly seeking your attention.

“How’s Lemon?” You finally ask after the longest minute. You’re still angry, but it feels so nice to have him wrapped around you like this that the rage starts to fade.

“Fine, oblivious, annoying. Same as always,” he grumbles into your shoulder, kissing his way up your neck to your jaw. “I swear I didn’t know about the phone until it started ringing.” Judging from how flustered he was, you’re inclined to believe him. You let the bowl you were washing slip from your hands back into the water. Leaning into him, he turns your head just enough so that he can kiss you, his lips soft and gentle, lingering against yours. He peppers you with kisses, dipping his head to yours over and over. He only kisses you like this when he thinks he’s fucked up, and it melts your heart every time. You take your dripping, soapy hands out of the water and turn to face him. They’re overly warm, and when you bring one up to his face he leans into it, closing his eyes. He’s so obviously torn between falling asleep and fucking you senseless. Your other hand starts working on the buttons of his shirt, making the choice for him.

“Let’s try this again,” you quietly tell him, pulling his shirt up and out of his pants, the white linen hanging open on his shoulders. There’s a little dark smudge of something across his collarbone, but your eyes are drawn to the chiseled expanse of his abdomen. Your still damp hands run over his skin, combing through the soft auburn hair on his chest. When he opens his eyes there’s a heat in them that makes you weak in the knees.

He takes your hand in his, leading you over to the dining room table. “It wasn’t jokes earlier. I fully intended to bend you over this table.” It’s sturdy, solid oak with a rustic look but polished to a mirror shine. It was a gift from him when he couldn’t stand your old wobbly table any longer. He leads you to stand against the edge of it, facing away from him, your hands pressed against its surface. Lips on your neck again, his tongue drags a slow trail to the back of your ear. His hands move to your breasts, kneading them gently over the soft fabric of your old t-shirt. One of his hands slips under your shirt, ghosting over your belly and up to your nipples, taking one between two fingers and giving it the slightest squeezes.

His other hand moves south, slipping under the waistbands of your shorts, cupping your warm, damp pussy over your panties. Breathless, you say his code name, the only name you’ve ever gotten out of him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he says in your ear, one of his fingers curling up against the fabric, applying a tiny bit of pressure. You give a little moan, and he pushes around them, dragging a finger against your wet curls.

“I want your fingers inside of me,” you quietly plead to him, grinding back against his cock. “Please.”

Tangerine lets out a small chuckle before he gently presses your body down against the table. “That all?” He slaps your ass, playful but hard enough to sting a little. “Just my fingers? Nothing else?” He pulls your shorts and underwear down in one agonizingly slow motion, you lift up one foot and then the other to step out of them.

“Spread those legs just a little bit more for me, love,” he instructs you, quiet but straining. You do as you’re told, aching for him to touch you. He doesn’t leave you waiting long, falling to his knees, pulling your cheeks apart. After a brief moment, he drags his tongue from your cunt to your asshole.

“Jesus Christ, Tan,” you gasp. The fingers of one hand slide against your wet slit, pushing against your entrance.

He presses one finger into you slowly, and you moan, biting your fist. His tongue is working against your ass, circling it over and over, occasionally trying to push itself in. The combined sensation of his tongue and an added finger in your pussy has you wiggling, pushing yourself against his face. This display of wanton need makes him moan, the vibration adding another level of pleasure. His mustache is chafing against the soft skin of your bottom, but you can’t ask him to stop.

“Holy shit,” you mumble against your hand. His fingers have developed a steady rhythm, hitting in just the right spot. You wish you could watch him, see the depraved look in his eyes as he takes you apart. But there’s something to be said about blindly letting him have his way with you.

He stops for just a moment to ask, his voice gravelly, “Do you forgive me yet?” His mouth is back on your ass before you can answer.

The cell phone begins to ring again, playing a lively little tune. Tangerine continues his important work, pushing his tongue past your tight little ring of muscle, making you gasp. The phone rings on and on, stopping for maybe ten seconds before starting again.

“Fucking hell!” Tangerine stands up, tearing the phone from his pocket. You sag against the table, flushed and a little deflated.

“Lemon, what the fuck can I do for you now?” he answers.

You try to stand up, but Tangerine bends you back down, his free hand moving from your back to between your legs, his fingers sliding into your wetness. You turn your head as much as you can to see him, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together. Don’t say a word, darling.

“Don’t hang up on me again, you bastard,” Lemon says on the other end. “I’m at the place, but I don’t know what color chartreuse is!”

Tangerine takes in a slow deep breath, transfixed by his fingers and the wet sounds they make as they move into you. He’s wearing his typical large signet rings, and he gets an immense amount of satisfaction watching them disappear inside of you. Goddamnit, he will not let Lemon distract him from this. He’s waited too long. You’re doing your best to fight the noises rising from your throat as he fingers you while on the phone.

“Isn’t this a question better suited for the internet?” he says, incredulous.

“I’m also working off of a flip phone, prick, and trying to bring up the browser on this thing makes me want to pry my fingernails off,” Lemon complains in his usual flat tone.

“Where did you get these phones, a couple of pensioners? It’s a kind of fucking yellow, mate,” Tangerine tells him, and then hangs up the phone again.

You bark out a laugh, shocked that that’s all Tangerine gave him. “‘A kind of yellow’? He’ll definitely be calling you back.”

He puts the phone back in his pocket before undoing his belt and trousers. Palming his cock for just a moment, he frees it from his boxers, letting it rest against your ass.

“I’m not answering,” he stubbornly says, withdrawing his fingers from you. The sudden emptiness makes you whine softly, trying to push yourself back into him. “I’m a little busy at the moment,” he says, basking in the sight of you desperate for him.

You push yourself up to a standing position, and he lets out a noise of disapproval, but you turn to hop up on the table. He steps in between your legs, and he stops short, letting his cock linger just out of reach of your core. His hands come to rest on the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing.

“You’d better fuck me right now, before he calls back,” you tell him, your lips close enough to his that they brush against each other as you speak. You tilt your chin up, dragging your tongue over the cut on his lip. He kisses you fiercely, and you can feel his cock rubbing against your clit. You reach down between your bodies and guide him to you, feeling the tip push inside. His hips take it from there, sliding inch by inch until he’s fully inside of you. Your breath hitches at the wonderful sensation of him stretching you, gripping each side of his open shirt with white knuckles. No one has ever filled you like he has.

“Goddamn it, you feel so fucking good around my cock, darling,” he groans, rocking his hips back and forth, sliding out and back in. The intimacy of this is overwhelming, your foreheads pressed together, his half-lidded blue eyes staring into yours. He moves to the side of your head, saying directly into your ear, “You are all I’ve thought about for two straight months.” He pulls your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Leaning down he captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking, licking, and biting at the tender flesh. One of your hands goes to his hair, tangling in his curls. As you make a fist it pulls the hair taught, and he moans against your skin. In response he picks up speed. He pulls his lips from your breast and hooks his hands under your knees, pulling you into him with each thrust. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching this beautiful man fuck you.

You can barely form words, but you manage to say, “Yes, Tangerine, god yes.”

A wicked grin forms on his face and he maintains that speed. He loves hearing his code name in your gasping, barely audible voice. “Touch yourself for me,” he says, watching you like a starved man eyeing a buffet.

You obey, reaching between your legs and massaging your clit to match his strokes. You can feel the build up of your impending orgasm in your belly, warmth spreading through your hips and radiating out from your core. You clench around him as it washes over you, blood rushing to your face and chest, rubbing your clit through the waves of intense sensations. You cry out his code name, begging him not to stop, and he groans and bucks into you a little more forcefully.

Tangerine’s not long after you, burying himself up to the hilt and gripping your legs so hard you know you’ll find bruises there later. He stands like that for a moment, shuddering with his orgasm. The sight of you, flushed and panting, on the table he bought you makes his chest tight. Through every beating taken and every bullet fired, he only thought of you. The gentle touch of your hand, the sting of your nails and teeth. In every horrible moment, he was always looking forward to this reunion.

“Jesus,” he sighs, still inside you, not wanting to move. “That was… fuck.”

The phone begins to ring again, the song becoming a trigger of rage for Tangerine. You laugh at the absurdity of it, and after a beat he does too. Leaning over, he kisses you sweetly, lingering.

“I’m gonna shove this phone down his throat when I see him,” he growls against your lips. He stands, withdrawing from you and tucking himself back into his boxers. You can feel his come dripping down your thigh as you stand up, trying to right yourself as best you can. Shirt and pants wide open, Tangerine retrieves the phone from his pocket and answers the call.

“Lemon, if you don’t have that fucking book,” he starts, but Lemon is yelling over him before he can finish.

“I don’t know what color ‘chartreuse’ is! You say yellow but there’s only green books here!”

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #bullet train #fanfic #fanfiction #my stuff #cannot believe i finally finished this whew #tangerine bullet train

3K notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 10 months

Text

bite marks || rick grimes x f!reader

based off: anon request and Hot Gum by SOFIA ISELLA

Summary: That night was a nightmare, with blood spilled and threats to your group's lives. You weren't sure that everyone could recover from it, including yourself. What Rick did had to be done, there was no other choice. You knew that. So, why did it keep replaying in your head? And why did you like it?

TWS: NSFW mdni (18+), teasing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), body worship, a little degradation, hint of blood kink, hickeys, biting, dom/sub undertones, possessiveness, oral fixation, overstimulation, hint of pain kink, begging, unhinged!Rick, murder jacket!Rick, death mention, gore, violence, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: hello anon!!! Thank you so much for being my first request, it means a lot <3. I will say this will be my first ever smut, so please don't judge me or I'll cry. You know that tag on AO3 'porn without plot'? This is the exact opposite. This baby has so much fondness and plot and slow-burn energy that I didn't mean to give it. I hope you enjoy !!! ]]

The night was quiet, the low buzz of adrenaline dipping beneath the stars -there was no need to fight anymore. All your senses heightened, rest felt a bit like an uncomfortable itch under your skin -something you couldn't stand to do.

Eyes flickering like an animal in the night to any particular noises, you were positive that getting a wink of sleep was definitely out of the cards. At least for now.

Plus, there was the thing.

The heavy tension that hung over your group like a dark cloud -the gnashing of teeth, the spitting of blood. The instinctual movements, nothing behind his eyes but heavy anger, beyond anything you'd ever seen. It was like a predator, instinctively stalking its prey without remorse, without thought, just... just to survive.

Your head was spinning.

Eyes flickering to your side, you watched him. He wasn't asleep, you could tell -leaned up against the car with a stare of a thousand yards. Part of you wanted to talk to him, try and help him find some solace -reiterate it was the only option, he did what he had to-

'He's mine,' the low growl made you freeze -eyes glazing over in a way they hadn't in a while as you sought to catch Rick in his rage-

But the other half was... conflicted.

Very, very conflicted.

Sighing, you squeezed your hands together -trying to turn over the event in your mind and just move past it. You knew that Rick would hardly want to talk about it, nevertheless your...

It wasn't the time for those kinds of thoughts, despite them clawing up your throat -mere ideas of 'what if he was that protective over me?' or what it would feel like to have his mouth on your pulse point. When you know he could so easily take a drag of the teeth and-

You cleared your throat, turning your attention instead to the night sky -trying to cool down and clear your head. Of everything.

"Can't sleep?" He rumbled out, a sort of sleepy fondness in his tone rather than the biting rage from before-

It was going to be a long night.

You took a deep breath, dragging your eyes down from the stars -despite your better judgment. Always eager to feel the little humanity left in the world, you looked to him -his face was still covered in red but his eyes were much more attentive.

Focused.

"Nope," you answered, finally, voice shaking just slight enough for him to notice, "-it's hard to explain."

Rick seemed to gesture at his face, blood still encrusted on the skin (desperation to protect what was his-) leveling, "Try me."

You bit at your lip, hoping somewhere far off in your head that the night hid your face enough to excuse the redness, "I just. I feel like I should be doing more. Or even just anything at all. I'm... I'm restless."

"Hmm," he mumbled out, deep tone rattling something up your spine, "-I'm kinda the opposite. But I just... I can't rest."

There was something in the tone that wildly grounded you to the very current moment -Rick was distraught, worried. He believed he'd failed, you could just tell. He believed he'd done something past the line, and lost his humanity. His empathy. And in this world, it's the first step of a downward spiral.

With extra careful movements, to not wake those around you, you made your way across many of your group. They were all asleep, but still, somehow all connected -holding each other like it's the last thing they'd ever do. You made it to a spot beside him, setting an appropriate distance, you leaned against the car with a manufactured ease.

"What if I stayed up?" You asked, genuinely -eyes upturned to the sky (you couldn't look him in the eyes so close, you didn't want to risk it.)

Rick stilled beside you, you could feel him freeze -it almost made you itch to reach out for him, but you cut the thought short, "I can't ask ya to do 'at, Y/N."

"You didn't ask me, I offered," you started, looking at him before dashing away to the dwindling fire. It had been made with some extra supplies that had been packed up. It was a little but it went a long way. Looking back to the pile that had accumulated nearby, you assessed -it was mostly extras of things you didn't need so much of. Books, copy paper, twigs, some extra diapers from one of Judith's emergency packed bags-

You paused, her emergency bags...

"But," you responded, quickly standing, "-I think I have something that can help, anyway."

Digging around into some of the supplies, you had your eyes set on one thing. You knew it was there -you had packed it yourself. It was a lucky run, a store almost completely in stock and unaffected to the outside.

Finally, the package peaked up at you -pastels and what seemed to be baby zoo animals scattered along the plastic smiling. You grinned, a bit proud of yourself for finding them so-

"Baby wipes?"

Something in your stomach twisted at the grumble of 'baby' smoothing across his lips, but you pushed it down, "Don't sound so judgmental, Grimes, hear me out first."

He smiled, it was light -you imagined the smallest gust of air might shoo it away but you still counted it, "Okay, okay. I'm listenin'."

You pursed your lips, before cementing your tone -seriousness embedded in the fiber of your being, "For your face, I think... I think it might help if you cleaned up.

Rick softened, the smile growing into something more fond. The crow feet by his eyes making the lightest of an appearance, and you had the instinct to trace them for a moment -before shaking your head to clear the train of thought.

"You know," he smirked in the teasing kind of way he always did, "-if you wanted to touch my face you coulda just said so-"

You scoffed -trying to hide the blooming pink on your face and clear your mind of being so close, "Oh, fuck you, Grimes, do it yourself."

And you threw the package at his head, right at the grin that made your head spin in a new kind of way. Those teeth had-

You could handle this, right? Just give it a few days.

A few weeks, actually.

Or maybe a month.

You were trying, genuinely, to deal with it -if you could pinpoint exactly what it was, you could avoid it. So, you started testing things from a distance.

Trying to talk to him up close, was a no. All you could think about was his mouth, salt and pepper stubble stretched across his lips, and the low grumble of his voice-

No. Couldn't work.

So, you tried sitting farther away. Watching from a distance, and talking from a distance, if he noticed it, he didn't say anything. That one couldn't work either though, as you watched his hands (long, calloused fingers and palms that had surely-) flip through the pages -apparently, it was a log of everything the camp had left. Not that you had noticed at all.

And then, trying and trying again, you found Alexandria. A beautiful place with open doors, food, and shelter. You couldn't remember the last time you slept on a mattress, or had your own kitchen-

It was bliss, other than some paranoia here and there -mistrust bubbling up in the community, you'd found yourself comfortable there. And then, you'd unexpectedly gone to the Grimes house -urgently needing to pass on some news, you couldn't remember what now, or who, or anything about it really. He'd opened the door clean-shaven and shirtless, you couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Your solution was a simple one, just avoid the problem at all costs -going on any and every run offered to you (as long as Rick wasn't going, and with the new responsibilities of Alexandria, he hardly was), keeping conversations quick and short, and trying desperately hard to keep Rick far, far away from you.

And thinking back on it, maybe that's where it went wrong.

It was late, you knew that much. You didn't know exactly how late -your head just wouldn't stop, and you'd scampered out of bed before you could even look at some of the clocks -if they were even set properly.

You'd decided to go out on your porch, and watch the stars -they kind of felt like the only thing that was the same these days. You could remember stargazing from meadows when you were young, your parents pointing to the constellations they knew, and you eager to see any kind of shooting star.

Something was comforting about knowing it was the same sky, even though it felt so different. And you, you were so different.

"We gotta stop meetin' like this," he hummed, dragging your attention from the sky to himself -leaning out on the railing of his own porch. Almost like he was trying to bridge the gap from your house to his.

You laughed, at ease with the distance between the two of you (despite your eyes catching on his light t-shirt and plaid pants that hung a little too low), correcting, "You should, you have things to do in the morning, I, on the other hand, can sleep until the sun sets again. You're just being irresponsible."

Rick laughed, shaking his head -your eyes followed the movement, "Ain't you helpin' cook for the dinner party tomorrow?"

Oh, you realized before responding, "That's at like 5 pm, gives me plenty of time to-"

"Carol gets up at like 6 to gather everythin' up."

You fell silent, before commenting -a bit in exaggeration but still real, you hadn't slept this good in years, "Then, no, I am not helping."

He only laughed more, and something in your stomach swirled. It wasn't new. Nothing with Rick was new. You'd always known he was handsome (even under the sweat and the dirt this world brought), and seeing him so gentle with his kids... It was expected when your heart started up at the reigns.

"I missed this," he said suddenly, open and vulnerable -Rick had a way of just doing that. You could only envy it.

You played dumb, actively ignoring it -you knew you'd hurt him, and you didn't want to think about it, "Missed what?"

"You," he answered -simply, honestly, "-talkin' to you. You don't-"

Rick stopped, sighing somewhere deep in his chest and pinching the bridge of his nose -your gut twisted in guilt, "Look... can we talk? Inside?"

You stilled, your head spinning in the sort of way that always somewhat meant to get away, you hadn't sorted it all out yet. And he knew something was up, he was going to ask-

Your mouth moved before you could coach what to say, "What about Judith?"

He paused, the frown on his face brief but still settled there -careful and considerate, "We can talk in yours, if you're more comfortable with that."

Your first instinct, a strong instinct that had never led you wrong, said no. It would be too much, and you'd ruin the friendship you had with Rick if he figured any of this out. ANY of it. But your second instinct was softer, it knew Rick well. It could tell he was hurt by something you'd done -you could imagine what, and he wanted to fix it. Hell, he just wanted to talk.

"Yeah," you answered -hands a little too tight on the railing, voice screaming in your head, "-we can do that."

The next few minutes, your heart was pounding in your chest -loud and boisterous as you went into your home. Rick would be following close behind, you thought to yourself -distantly. Barely there, you spun into the kitchen, urging somewhere deep in your mind to get a barrier. A wall between him and you, something to do with your hands instead of-

"Can I get you some water?" You asked, clearing your throat and shifting your footing -not now, not now, not now.

Rick was tall, practically owning every room he came into -a presence larger than life. You'd always noticed that, really, he'd had just a powerful energy, one that you could feel as soon as he stepped into a room. It was a shift in the air, enough for your breath to slink out of your lungs-

"Yeah," he answered -oblivious to your own head, "-if ya don't mind."

He was close, naturally so, a tick to your right between the counters -waiting patiently. You instinctively swayed further to the left, the bristling feeling of his body heat making your head spin -a dizzy sort of intoxicating drift of his woodsy scent echoing into your nose-

Without thinking, you dropped the cup to the floor -shattered on the tile.

"Shit, Y/N-" Rick remarked, crouching down to the tile, using one of his hands to push your hip back (you almost couldn't breathe), "-ya got a broom?"

"Yeah, yeah," you swallowed, voice strained and head still dizzyingly spun, "-should be one in the closet in the hallway."

Just before he turned to go and get it, his eyes settled on you -slinking over your stiffened posture and the tone of your voice, "Are you... Everythin' okay?"

"What? Yeah," you tried to laugh -it came out pretty pathetic, "-why? Uh, why do you ask?"

Rick stepped forward -hand reaching to soothe, and you instinctively stepped back. Shit.

He frowned, something glazing over his eyes, and a twist of guilt settling itself deep in your stomach like a stone in a pond. His hand extended into empty air, he gently brought it back to himself -a flash of something deep in his eyes and frown only growing larger.

"This..." he sighed -trailing off into a quiet tone, "-this is what I wanted to talk 'bout. Mind if we go somewhere else? I'll clean up the glass later-"

"We can," you agreed -voice a little squeaky, and you barely let it stand in the moment's silence. Quickly, turning off into the living room, not waiting for him -you were running on self-preservation at this point. Your heart beating quickly in your chest, you kept your mind sane, calm, together-

You sat on the couch -not daring to uncross your legs. The sort of twist in your stomach was much different now, pillowing back and forth like a tidal wave.

"You can't even look at me," he echoed, voice distant -despite him standing off to the right of you, pacing, "-I just. I know you've been actin' weird since the run-in with the Claimers-"

You stilled -teeth gnashing, the thrum of his deep voice, the tightening of his jaw, the protectiveness in every line of his body, "Can we not talk about that?"

Rick paused, attention back on you -curious, confused, and heartbroken, "Look, I kno' that I lost it a lil' that day and I'm sure it was scary, but-"

"Rick, no, not-" you suddenly echoed, standing and approaching him on instinct -to comfort, to soothe, "-you did everything right that day. There weren't many options, and you did what you had to."

"But I scared ya. I know you're afraid of me-"

"Rick-" you started, desperate to explain, to get the pain out of his tone.

"You just have to know," he echoed, continuing as if you'd never even spoken -hands trailing to hold your arms, comforting, soothing but your brain only lit up at feeling, "-I would never hurt you."

"Rick-" you relented, sighing deep in your bones -air flushing out of your lungs, "-fuck, it's not... It's not that."

He stilled, eyes wavering over you in concern (sweet, your mind commented) "What's wrong then? You can't just avoid me an' not tell me, what's wrong. I'm done with 'at."

"Ugh," you groaned -the words not willing to come out of your lips, shimmying out of his hold and taking a few steps back, "-It's embarrassing."

"Embarrassin'? What are you talkin' about?"

"Fuck, I don't-" you ran a hand through your hair -frantic, and talking to yourself, "-maybe if I just come out and say it?"

"Y/N..." he started, roaming closer -trying to reach out and stop the pacing, help you, "-ya know you can tell me anything."

"God, you're not making this easy, you know?"

Rick furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch your eyebrow -desperate, hurting, "Makin' it easy? Y/N just talk to me-"

And maybe it was because he had caught your eyes, even for just a second -blue desperate, pleading. He just wanted to fix it. Or maybe it was because your patience had worn thin, you were sick of hiding it-

Either way, it just came out.

"Fuck, I was into it."

The silence was deafening, as you tried to hide behind your palms -cheeks burning a furious red. But you couldn't stop it.

"So, no," you clarified, clearing your throat, "-I am not scared of you. At all. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't talk about it."

Rick spoke, and you weren't looking at him but you could hear something there -low in his voice, "Speak for yourself."

Stilling, you turned to match him -finding something you knew in him, something instinctual, "What...?"

"What part?" he asked, leaning into your space -hand skipping up your side, fingers brushing up your skin, "Was it the anger? The blood?"

"Rick," you breathed out, breathless -heart racing against your chest, "-you don't have to."

He didn't respond immediately, fingertips dragging up agonizingly -your shirt riding up just slightly at the pressure. The hand ended up on your chin, holding it with his thumb and leveling his eyes with yours -and the heat that echoed through your skin seemed so suffocating. You felt like every part of your body was molten -your stomach twisting into something far different than guilt.

"Darlin', this ain't a chore."

"Rick-" you exhaled, tension thick as your eyes flicked between his and down to his lips. They were so close-

He sighed, pushing ever so slightly more into your chin, other hand riding up under your shirt -fingertips dancingly along your ribs, "Maybe I was thinkin' about this all wrong, hmm?"

You tried to speak, but he cut you to the chase -all low voice and you could feel his breath on your skin. Some part of you relished in the warmth, sensations dancing behind your eyes as all you could do was watch.

"I think," he moved even closer, your breaths mingling and head spinning -your legs weak and brain turning to a familiar buzz, "-I think y'er favorite part was my mouth."

A breath caught in your chest, held up simply by his hands -your knees buckled but all you wanted was to feel them, eyes dipping to his lips like it would change something, "Rick, please-"

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Kiss me," you echoed -instinctual.

He didn't hesitate, sweeping forward to connect his lips to yours -fast and it lit a fire somewhere in your stomach. And despite the rush, he'd been languid -trailing his hands up to the sides of your face. Big palms holding you still, lips chapped and the brush of his stubble leaving something so buzzed there.

He licked along your teeth, pushing you back into the wall with a force that made your head spin. You startled briefly from the impact, and he pulled back -tilting your chin to the side with one hand. Calloused fingertips leaving something burning there in their place, you didn't think you could speak-

"God," he nosed around your neck -pointedly close to the vein, and all you could do was whine, "-so pretty like this."

You groaned, hands splaying across his shoulders -feeling along the muscle there (god, you wanted to see), "Off, Rick-"

"You first," he echoed, hands trailing down to the hem of your shirt -tugging up. His fingers brushed across your skin there, and something in you weakened -you threw your arms up and he guided the fabric off. Big hands following it all the way up, he left a trail of goosebumps behind -as you tried to grab at the buttons of his flannel.

Mindlessly grabbing at the fabric, he merely chuckled.

"Patience, sweetheart," he hummed trailing his fingers along your skin -down to the band of your pants, hands dusting under them, "-let's focus on you for now, yeah?"

Breathless, you responded, "O-Okay."

"Good," he mumbled, leaning down without a breath of hesitance -mouthing along your jaw. Kiss after kiss after kiss, his tongue traced down your shoulder -avoiding your neck, particularly. Lips meshed with your skin, you reached up and grabbed some of his hair -thick curls between your fingers, he grunted against your skin.

"Please," you echoed, bubbling up from your throat -his teeth scrapping back up to your collarbone. He traced the bone, biting onto it -gentle and still something so desperate. You leaned your head back against the wall -moaning slipping through your lips through every drag of his tongue.

"That what you want?" he echoed between pressing kisses over your chest -tantalizingly close, "Wanna be all marked up? All mine?"

"All yours," you repeated -the thrum of his voice echoing off your skin, "-all yours."

"Hmm," he muttered pressing a finger to your neck, rubbing gently over your jugular -teetering over the area, "-gotta do it where 'ey can see then, don't I?"

"Yes. yes-" you begged, hands desperate all over his chest, "-please. I want them to see."

Rick grinned, nosing along your jaw -puffs of breath against your skin that made your head spin. Buzzing through your senses, you could feel everywhere he touched you -one hand rubbing along your hip, calloused thumb, and the burn of his hot breaths dissipating along your skin.

And then he finally leaned forward.

"Rick," you moaned, arching into him, as his lips latched onto the vein -taking the skin between his teeth, "-Rick, I can't-"

He only tugged, and your eyes rolled back at the spark of pain there. Teeth grazing, it left a pleasant sort of burn -as he held your head still, kissing along the spot with his lips desperately. Like he wanted all of you. Like he needed all of you.

Rick pulled back with one last languid kiss, tugging at the waistband of your pants, "Off, take these off-"

You were compliant, tugging them down with a quick motion and kicking them off your feet -vulnerable but your mind was in such a haze, you hardly noticed it.

"Beautiful," he hummed, hands dancing along your waist -trailing along your underwear, teasing, "-so beautiful, darlin'."

"More, Rick, please-"

He mouthed around your collarbone and you gasped at the sensitivity -the biting air brushing over his marks, they were so fresh. Only moving down your skin, through the dips and crevices, and your head only lit up with a rush of crimson -eyes bleary with pleasure. He focused in between your chest, leaving traces all along your skin -a beautiful dark path of bruises.

And then his fingers brushed across the fabric -timid and teasing. You groaned, rubbing onto his fingers, "Rick-"

He grunted, moving his hands swiftly to tug them down -rushed and desperate and instinctual. Your head spun as his breaths centered across your core -overwhelmed by the tension, you could not imagine you would last long.

Fingers brushing across your clit, your knees nearly buckled -a blinding bright flashing behind your eyes.

"Hey, hey," he spoke, looking up at you (big blues eyes a mere breath from the most sensitive part of your body) -keeping one hand on your hip, extra support, "-stay with me, sweetheart. Gotta remember this, so you know who treats you best, knows how to care of you, knows what you need-"

"You," you answered, breathlessly, "-you, only you."

He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh -gentle, sensitive skin making your whole body tense, "That's right, all mine."

His fingers trailing along your folds -calloused and gathering your wetness in smooth, slow, movements. Careful and gentle at a time when you were desperate, squirming, and whining -your hand thread deeply into his hair. A tinge in your heart at the fact he still wanted to be careful with you was overwhelmed by the need to have him there now. You didn't care if it was his finger, or his tongue-

He trailed along your core, teasing -blue eyes intent on your face watching every flicker there, every gasp. Before he pressed forward.

The slow sink of his finger made your eyes roll to the back of your head, a deep throaty moan pushing through you -loud. Rick's pupils were blown now, watching you squirm on his middle finger -twisting and grinding. He licked a long strip over your clit, and your head smacked against the wood -placing your free hand over your mouth, biting back the shrill moan you were sure was going to spill out.

Rick only quickened the pace, finger twisting in and out before it became two and your stomach tightened. Lips sucking relentlessly at your clit -teeth grazing across the sensitive skin, you used your hand in his hair to pull him closer (more, more, more). Words blabbering past your lips, broken and pleading, he only pushed harder, faster.

"I can't-" your voice shook, "-Rick, I-"

He merely kissed your clit, languid and slow and teasing, while his fingers kept up the pace -pounding against your skin so quickly it made you delirious. Head spinning and moans breaking out of your lips, every sensation felt so close. So close. So close-

And then you were shaking, bright lights flashing behind your eyes -squirming for any sort of more friction as it all built and flushed through your body. Pushing into his mouth and clenching his fingers, you felt your muscles spasm -eyes fluttering closed at the mere sensation of it all.

"Fuck," he grumbled out -pupils wide and watching your every move, finding his own finish, "-so pretty, so beautiful."

And before you could say a word, he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips -domestic, caring, tender. Grabbing the fabric of your nearby shirt and cleaning up, all his movement slow and caring -blue eyes flooding over your features like you were precious.

"I liked that shirt," you pouted, exhaustion biting at your tone and aching in your body but pushing past it to shove him gently. More like the press of a hand

Rick laughed -voice soft and a deep note of tired, "You can borrow mine if 'at makes ya feel better, sweetheart."

"Are you staying?"

"'Course, baby," he paused, eyeing you in that special kind of way except he was fond now -a beautiful, wonderful fond, and pushing back a loose strand of your hair, "-but, we should stay at mine, in case Jude wakes up. You okay with 'at?"

"Of course," you responded, teetering in place and leaning into his hand heavily.

He chuckled, trailing over the skin of your cheek, "So cute like this, darlin'."

You blushed, despite being in the situation you were in, he had just-

You cleared your throat, and wiped at your face like it would go away -playfully, "Oh fuck you, Grimes."

"Next time," he hummed, as natural as he could, before pulling you up -his rough hands in yours and smushing you into his side, "-Let's get you dressed, hmm?"

"Okay," you muttered, tucking yourself neater into his side.

And you thought for a second, that maybe it would all be okay. Maybe this could work.

You could at least hope it would.

And then, he leaned down and kissed your temple -a crinkly eyed smile aimed right at you, soft, domestic, caring... affectionate.

It could work, you decided -eyes laid hazily on him and everything he was, it could definitely work.

#mdni #18+ only #18+ content #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n smut #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #smut #but also kind of sweet?#i cant do just smut #im sorry girlies ✋️😞#MY FIRST SMUT!!!#bite marks

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year

Text

it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)

summary: Four times you, Jake, and Javy danced around the truth, and the one time you confronted it. rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader x Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado word count: 4.2k warnings: idiots pining, mmf PiV (unprotected), m/f oral (receiving/giving, face sitting), cockwarming, hangman being hangman, light angst, dacryphilia a bit, mention of violence (stabbing), no use of y/n. notes: companion fic to my 'a little bit of fun' drabble. thank you to sana and amelia (@laracrofted @theharddeck) for the inspiration! this one's definitely more heavy on the emotion, so please let me know what you think!! tagging: @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie @teacupsandtopgun

one.

Neither Javy nor Jake really reacts when you’re the one to initiate conversation in your group chat.

Bad day. Someone pick me up?

Javy responds with a thumbs up and then a simple-Hangboy’s in the air. See you at 5.

Neither of you speak on the ride to their place; Jake’s usually the one to fill those silences. Javy just places his hand palm side up on the center console and wraps his fingers around yours when you place your hand in his. It’s the sort of companionable silence that stirs feelings you don’t really have the energy to identify.

An hour and a half later you’re settled in Javy’s lap, one of Jake’s old Navy shirts falling loosely around you, Javy’s cock inside you. It brings you a rare type of peace.

He’d made you shower and eat, guiding you through the motions with a tenderness somehow not at odds with his broad shoulders, the military uniform he’d removed when he climbed into the shower with you. You’d talked in low tones over a recipe of his grandmothers’, him coaxing you to tell him about your day. They already had a half-empty pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer.

He’d undressed you from the waist down the same way he’d dressed you after your shower—gently, slowly, like you were something precious and fragile. You very pointedly did not cry. He took you apart on his tongue once, kneeling between your legs as you melted into the couch.

When he slid into you, your mind finally went quiet.

Javy’s got some game on in the background, the lull of the commentary giving you something to tune out as you drift. He’s solid and warm below you, inside you, a constant like the rate of acceleration due to gravity. Occasionally, he’ll shift or smooth his hand down your back or adjust the blanket that’s draped over you, but otherwise the two of you are still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been napping til you hear keys in the door. You recognize Jake by footsteps alone, the way his keys jingle as they drop in the bowl by the door, the sound of him sliding his boots off til they land on the floor with a soft thump.

“Hey, thanks for getting her.” Javy nods against you, his chin bumping the top of your head where it’s buried in his chest, “She tell you what happened?”

Javy smooths your hair so his hand comes to rest over the ear not pressed into him, but you hear their conversation anyways, “Boss yelled at her in front of everyone for something that wasn’t actually a mistake. He didn’t apologize.”

The way Jake scoffs is muffled but your mind can picture his face, “I’m gonna give that asshole what’s coming to him one day. I keep telling her to quit. We’ll take care of her while she looks for another job. ”

Javy laughs gently, jostling you despite his best efforts, “And what? Get us dishonorably discharged in the process?”

It makes your chest clench when he says 'us' instead of 'you', as if Javy would be right there alongside him on your behalf. A pause, and Jake says something you don’t catch.

Javy’s response gets drowned out by the buzzer sound from the game, by the way his hand is still covering your ear. You only catch “never agree”.

Jake is apparently unsatisfied with Javy's answer because you can hear it in the way he leaves the room. You drift off again.

The next time you come to, it's because your dream had you squirming in Javy's lap, reminding you of how he still had you nestled on his cock. Then, there's a kiss being pressed to your forehead. You open your eyes to see Jake’s face in front of you, his hair dripping wet onto his shoulders.

"Hey baby," He murmurs before pressing your lips together.

It's heated, it's possessive, like he's trying to convey everything he feels he's unable to say through the way he licks into your mouth. Javy grabs the back of his neck so he can peck Jake, the kiss so chaste in comparison to the way Jake was just devouring you. It warms you beyond just the way Javy's body heat does.

They've been doing that more often, like they're discovering something beyond years of longing, beyond years of ribbing on each other to try and relieve what they didn't realize was sexual tension.

When you three finally make it to Javy’s bedroom, they take you apart the way they always do. But somehow, it’s infinitely more tender.

Javy fucks you first, rocking into you as you sprawl on his king size mattress. Jake’s there the entire time, kissing away your tears and petting over your stomach to press down on your lower abdomen.

Neither of them stops talking the entire time.

“So beautiful and smart, our girl—”

“I can feel Javy in you baby, you’re taking him so well—”

“God where would we be without you—”

You sob as you cum for the second time that evening, and Javy fucks you through it all. You’re so overwhelmed by the way their words wash over you like the sun on a summer day. The baritone of Javy’s voice murmuring “our girl” rattles around your mind til he finishes inside you.

Then it’s Jake’s turn. He’s just as, if not more, gentle than Javy.

Javy slips off the bed to go clean himself up. When he rejoins the two of you, Jake is already so close. He pulls out at the last minute, fisting his cock til he finishes on your stomach and chest, a punched out moan leaving him.

It’ll never cease to amaze you the way they manage to make you finish with such ease as Jake’s fingers find your clit and he plasters himself all over you so he can kiss you. It should be gross, the way his cum makes him slide a bit against you, but it grounds you instead. You can feel where the mix of you, Jake, and Javy is running down your thigh.

You’ve got Javy’s hand in a vice grip. They’re here, they’re real.

When it’s all said and done, Jake appears with a wet washcloth to wipe down your forehead, between your legs. Eventually, he carries you to the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth (“Javy got to carry you earlier while he was inside you, mind you, so it’s my turn.”).

Laying between them, you start to feel human again. You have half a mind to ask what they were bickering about earlier, but sleep is dragging you under before you can act on it.

two.

Jake's been irritating you all night. He begged you to come to the Hard Deck, claiming lonely since Javy was out of town for the weekend, some trip to DC neither of them wanted to discuss.

Distantly, you know this is how he shows affection. Like a teen boy, he’s poking and prodding at you. In between his turns at pool, he’s pulling you into his arms, grabbing at your waist, yanking on the ends of your hair. Something about Jake just requires he’s touching you at all times when you’re within his general proximity.

Natasha sets a beer down in front of you, before settling in across from you, “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Your thing with Jake and Javy isn’t exactly a secret, but no one addresses it. It’s just sort of, there. The rest of the Dagger Squad seems to have just accepted the dynamic, brought you into the fold.

“Put up with him?” You nod at Jake, who’s trying to show Rooster some pool move that apparently requires one leg on the table. The tension between the two of them has eased considerably these days.

She laughs, “Either of them really, Hangman and Coyote. They feed off each other’s energy in the worst way sometimes, I think I’d go crazy.”

You’re silent, trying to figure out a way to respond. The three of you haven’t defined what this is, haven’t talked ‘feelings’, despite the amount of time you spend at their place, the way your days are filled with each other. You’re not sure how to explain that it just works somehow—on the outside it might seem like you lean into Javy more, but the reality is more complicated.

Jake and Javy are bonded by years in the Navy, nothing quite like constant near-death experiences to foster love. They do feed off each other, but in the way that they’re so familiar they’re almost one. Javy does steady you—but he also riles you up like no one else. Jake brings out the livelier side of you, but he’s also fiercely and openly protective of you.

You're stubborn and unmoving where Jake goes with the flow. You're snarky and sarcastic where Javy is calm, at ease. It just works.

Natasha just looks at you expectantly, and you shrug. Unsure of what to say.

You settle on, "They do drive me crazy, but I think I'm not totally gone yet."

Her laugh echoes above the background noise of the bar.

Back at the guys’ shared apartment, you fuck Jake slowly, keeping your lips pressed together. You whine into his mouth when he hitches your thigh up on his bicep, the position hitting something inside of you just right.

In that moment, he doesn't comment on the change of pace from your usual, more intense sex—he leans into it. He presses his lips to your forehead, then leans his against yours. His grip on your hip and thigh aren't as bruising as they usually are, they’re more grounding.

Jake always talks during sex, never shuts up. This time, he’s whispering more than anything else, and you can’t understand him. You want to ask but the way he’s fucking into you makes you lose all ability to speak.

When you finish, you keen and arch your back as Jake licks a stripe up the side of your neck. You shudder as he cums right after you. The two of you lay there for just a moment, taking deep breaths.

Jake presses his lips to your forehead one more time before pulling out and sitting up, "You wanna talk about it?"

Of course he noticed something was up–that's just who he is. A hurricane of a man, but still attentive to every little detail.

You consider him for a moment, his naked form, completely at ease with your eyes roaming over his body. You think of telling him about your conversation with Natasha, about the way it had made you think through the three of you. Instead, you shake your head and curl onto your side, and wait for him to get back into bed.

three.

Surprisingly, it’s Javy’s who’s been pushing you. Jake’s been hesitant to open his mouth on the subject, but you don’t miss the way he perks up slightly when you and Javy start getting into it again.

“I have a perfectly good apartment of my own, Javy!” It’s repetitive, like a swing dance, at this point. “I don’t get why you want me to move in.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d listen to me, you’d ‘get why’. You live in a bad area of town, and I’m laying awake every night worrying about whether to expect a phone call from the nearby hospital.”

Jake focuses intently on the crossword he’s pretending to do as you and Javy both stare at him expectantly. The last time he’d voiced his opinion, you’d threatened to call his mother and tell her he was trying to tell you what to do. Theoretically, he knows she’d be on his and Javy’s side, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with that.

(You haven’t threatened Javy in the same way, and he wonders if it’s because his mom is the only woman in this situation with a more stubborn disposition than you. Maybe it’s just because it’s Javy.)

"Well, maybe you should worry less." You snark. Javy doesn't respond and Jake can hear the way his eyebrow raises.

“Seventeen across, 'unconcerned',” Jake half mumbles to himself, half trying to break at least some of the tension.

“Perfunctory,” you snap at him from where you’re glaring at Javy, because of course you know.

"That's not an option, sweetheart." Javy's using the tone that says his decision is final, that he won't change his mind–it's one that you fucking hate.

Jake barely manages to stand up to intercept you when you turn around and head for the door, sans any of your possessions but your phone. He wraps his arms around you and refuses to release you despite the way you squirm indignantly in his hold.

He eases his grip just enough so he can lean down to whisper in your ear, "Baby, at least consider it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees the way Javy just stares at the two of you. His expression is nearing anguish, and Jake gets it. The way you pull back every time they try to bring you closer feels like ripping barbs out of their skin. The emotional pain is so intense it rivals physical.

It’s not entirely about safety this time, not really.

"He's being a dick." You murmur, finally acquiescing and wrapping your arms around Jake's torso.

"We're not trying to control you babe, we want you here. He just maybe should've led with that. We want you to be safe." A little good cop, bad cop. Sorry, Javy.

To his surprise, you just say, "I know."

There's no fight left in any of you. Not since someone got stabbed outside your apartment building a month ago and the three of you, well, you and Javy, have been arguing non stop about it.

You just want it to stop—the tension every time you leave their apartment for work, the shared knowing that you won’t necessarily return. Jake clearly is getting sick of the arguing and you and Javy aren’t any less exhausted.

Turning around in Jake’s arms you look at Javy, “You—You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javy’s in front of you in an instance, taking your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely, “I’m sorry, too. We care about you, we want you to be safe.”

There’s much left unsaid, but in that moment, all the words spoken are more than enough.

four.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. You vaguely remember Jake getting up in the middle of the night and him and Javy talking in low tones as Jake got dressed. He kissed you goodbye and promised to come home safe. Javy had gotten back in bed.

The curtains let the gray of the morning light leak into the room, washing everything in a sort of hazy filter. There's clanking from the kitchen, but for just a moment, you let yourself lay there, absorbing the moment. The sheets still smell like that combination of Jake and Javy that lulls you to sleep every night.

For a second, you're overcome by a fear that one day you'll turn to your right and you won't be able to bury your nose into the pillow and smell Jake. He's only gone for the weekend, but it's that part of you that rears its head every time one of them leaves. Every deployment, every work trip they're not allowed to discuss, every morning they leave for training.

The bed dips next to you as Javy climbs in–you hadn't noticed him come back into the room. He smells like sweat just a bit, and you giggle sleepily when his fingers ghost up your ribs.

"Get out of the bed, Javy, you're sweaty," You groan, turning away from him as he drags you backward into his chest.

"Really," He laughs, "You didn't mind so much last night."

Despite your protests, you snuggle back into him, feeling the way his workout shirt slides against your bare skin. It's the sort of closeness that isn't just physical—it's about knowing your partners' boundaries, about knowing that they don't actually mind that you just came from the gym and then climbed right into bed. The sheets need to be changed anyways.

Javy kisses right below your ear and you hum happily. His lips ghost over your cheek but don't reach your lips.

"Go shower," You murmur as you turn around to kiss him.

He doesn't respond. He can't–not with the way you're flush against him, only wearing a pair of boxers where he’s only in a shirt. Not with the way you lick into his mouth lazily, humming when you taste the juice he drank. Not with the way your hands run down his stomach and grab clumsily at his hardening cock.

If you weren't awake before, you sure are now–especially with the way Javy's warm and calloused hands skim your nipples and lift your leg to hitch over his hip.

He rolls the two of you so his weight is pressing you into the mattress. There’s something so distinctly soothing about the position, the way he’s warm and heavy and everywhere on you. You move your hips in a steady rhythm against his.

When his hands find their way into the pair of boxers you stole from Jake, he finds you already soaking. You can feel the way he smiles smugly against your mouth. That just won’t do.

Shoving at his shoulder, he lets you turn the two of you over again. You kiss his neck, working your way down his body. Making a show of wrinkling your nose at his shirt, he yanks it off in one fluid, yet desperate, motion.

The instant you wrap your lips around him, his hands are in your hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re—”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, not when you slide your mouth down the length of him, fighting your gag reflex at the way he nudges the back of your throat. There’s something so sensual about the way your nose almost brushes the curls at the base of him.

“Shit, shit, Jesus,” This is the way you like Javy best, all his boundaries down, just letting himself feel, “Your mouth is so fucking good, god, how do you—ugh, fuck!”

You’re pulling out every trick in the book. You fist the base of his cock in tight grip and let your spit ease the twist of your wrist. He shudders when you pull your mouth off him to lazily tongue at the sensitive spot at the underside of the head.

You know he’s getting close when his hips start thrusting, despite the way he usually holds himself back. The groan he lets out when he comes down your throat is guttural.

“You’re a menace,” He gasps out, and the glaze of his eyes is so familiar, so welcomed in the way that it makes your chest clench with pride and something else.

“You didn’t seem to mind just now,” Reflecting his words back at him before you make a show of swallowing deeply.

He drags you up his body while tugging off the boxers, “I mind because I wanted to fuck you.”

You giggle at the way he fakes his frustration, but you’re cut off when he lifts you up and over him til you land on his face. His strength never fails to stun you.

Javy settles you directly on his face. There’s still a part of you that feels overly exposed in the position but he wastes no time. He licks into you without reserve, burying his tongue in you and closing his eyes and humming in satisfaction.

Javy knows your body through and through—he knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, how he can drag this out or rush to the edge. This time, he’s savoring the moment, bordering on torture. His tongue is slow, purposeful, as it circles your clit and fucks into you slowly.

You can hear the way you’re whining as if you’re outside of your body. Your voice sounds foreign even as you beg Javy please, please, fuck right there, please don’t stop, please.

When you come you slam your hand on the headboard and moan something deep in your chest. Javy smooths his hands over your waist and ass as you come down, shaking slightly. He slides you off him and down the bed til the two of you are face to face again.

You think he might be murmuring something as he presses your lips together, again and again, but you can’t quite make it out.

plus one.

The Hard Deck seems so far away from here, where you and Javy are sitting on the beach behind it. Jake's only a few feet away, inside getting the three of you a round of beers. The noise of the crowd celebrating the end of another week is dim and distant.

You and Javy are sitting side by side, just barely touching. The heat radiating off him is unreal, as always. The two of you are talking about Jake and Javy's families, having drifted to the subject after recalling the way Jake's mom had squealed at the sight of you when she'd FaceTimed earlier in the day. His mom absolutely loves you.

He shrugs, “Momma and Amy knew about Jake and I before we did. I brought you up once and they figured it out.”

That surprises you. You knew Javy's mom and Jake's mom were perceptive, yet open, women, but you hadn't expected this—them seeing not just Jake and Javy for what they were, but the three of you, too.

You lean into him, snuggling close, "What did they say?"

He presses a kiss to your hair before answering, his words muffled with the way his lips move against your skin, "They said you had to be one hell of a woman to put up with us."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" You pull back from him, and shock paints his features.

He laughs, a bit uneasily, "Who else is saying that?"

"I'm not 'putting up with you', I love you, I love Jake, I love you both." You push yourself to standing, unexpectedly frustrated. The sweetness of the moment seems acidic now. It eats at you.

This was hard enough for you to accept. Hard enough to rationalize, to try and understand what it meant that marriage certificates were for two names, that it was 'partners' and 'couples', that the world generally worked in twos. That's enough to try and deal with–much less with those closest to you pointing out how difficult it must be for you.

Javy can't even savor the fact that you've just said you love him, that you love Jake–not when your lower lip is wobbling and your chest is starting to heave in that way when you cry.

"Hey, hey," Javy's voice is steadying, as he stands next to you and takes your hands, "Look at me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

It didn't even register to you that you're crying, but you feel it now. The telltale itch in your nose, the way your throat feels tight, your eyes watering. You rip one of your hands from his to wipe at your face messily.

"Woah, woah, what's going on?" Jake materializes next to you, the three beer cans dropping in the sand, forgotten in the instant he saw you crying.

"Everyone keeps trying to tell me it must be hard for me to love you, and it's not." Jake's mouth only drops a bit when you say love, an admittedly muted reaction in comparison to what you'd been expecting.

"I mean–" Jake starts, but he stops when Javy shoots him a look over your head. It's not the time for jokes.

He tries again, "We fought with you for a month to try and get you to move in with us, it's not hard for us to love you at all either."

For some reason, that just makes you cry harder as they pull you into them, "I didn't fight with you, I fought with Javy."

At that, the two men can't resist bursting into laughter.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Javy says as his laughter dies down, "We're not laughing at you."

You wipe at your tears hastily and giggle just a bit, "It is kind of funny."

“You love us?” Jake’s smile is cheeky, as much as it can be when he feels like you’ve split his chest open with your bare hands and are now holding his fluttering heart in your palms.

Fighting the urge to run or lie, you simply nod, “Unfortunately.”

Old habits die hard.

Later that night, when you’re pressed up against Jake’s chest with Javy at your back, they chant the words to you like a sacred prayer. They say it while they take you apart with their fingers, their tongues.

Jake says it in the way he curls his fingers inside of you, searching for the spot that makes your back arch and your thighs try to squeeze together. Javy says it in the way he inches ever so slowly into you, in the way that he tilts your hips so he can fuck your just so.

You say it in the way you trust them to see you so vulnerable, tears streaming down your face in pleasure, eyes rolled back. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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lesbianhotch · 3 months

Text

and fish is my favorite perfume

wrecker gets back from a mission a little worse for wear (wrecker x fem reader, established relationship, spoilers for 3x08, fluff, wrecker sweetness, smooches, a little steamy)

“Ok, so can you explain it one more time?”

Wreckers voice is dulled by the sound of the running fresher, but not by much. You can hear him well enough through the cracked open door from your spot on the stool you’ve pulled up next to it.

“They were HUGE! Big terrible teeth and one of ‘em grabbed Hunter, but I jumped right on it and showed it who’s boss.”

You nod along, eyes moving to the basket full of laundry that seemed to be staring at you from a few feet away.

“And they showed up because you were in the water, where you were-“

“-disarming floating mines.”

“And that's why you and your clothes and your armor smell like swamp.”

Wreck laughs, and you hear the wet sound of a washcloth being scrubbed harshly against skin.

“You got it!”

He returned to your home reeking of sulfurous muck and you had to open all your shuttered windows just to prevent yourself from gagging.

He’d frowned when you refused his usual kisses, but agreed to your terms of fresher first, hugs later.

You’d pinched your nose and tossed the first empty basket you could find into the fresher, directing Wrecker to go inside and disrobe and put everything in the now muddy container. He’d very politely nudged it out before getting under the wet spray and you’d moved it far across the room.

“I don’t think those clothes are salvageable. We oughta burn them.”

“Ah! That armor’s been through worse.”

You severely doubt that.

But then again…

“I’ll be back,” you announce as you hop off from the stool, steeling yourself as you approach the stinking basket.

You haul it out of the house and into your modest front yard. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t have a plan in place. A long soak in some fresh water is the best bet for a preliminary wash, but you don't have the energy for that at the moment. An hour or two outside will have to do for now.

You just want your house free of stink, and your boyfriend clean and in your arms.

The sound of the fresher has stopped when you come back inside, so you come right up to the door and knock gently.

“Ok in there?”

“Ya asking if I still smell?”

“Maybe,” you reply, unable to keep the cheeky edge of your voice hidden.

You let yourself in, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth.

Wreckers in front of the mirror, and you can just see yourself in it, despite him taking up most of the view. His armor did all it could, but the bruises on him are massive. Dark and purple, covering his chest and shoulders and arms. In some spots it almost blends into the hair that covers his chest and leads down onto his belly. His back is just as bad, a large misshapen mass in the center of it.

“Oh Wreck…”

He shrugs, clearly not wanting you to worry. “I’ve had worse. Just gotta get some bacta on ‘em.”

You spy another one across his hip, disappearing down into the towel that's tied around him.

You want to appreciate every inch of skin that’s on display in front of you. You want to appreciate the map of scars that you’ve committed to memory. You want to appreciate the droplets of water that are slowly making their way down Wreckers back to rest at the top of the towel.

But your heart aches, and while he may be as fine as he says he is, it doesn’t negate the way you feel.

You’re still behind him, so you get on your tiptoes and press a firm kiss to the bruised shoulder, and Wrecker grunts.

You pull back immediately. “I’m sorry! Did that hurt?”

“No. Was nice. Just…didn’t expect it is all.”

You place a gentle hand on his back, doing your best to avoid the worst of it. “Can I do it again?”

You feel Wrecker nod, and you press a soft kiss to the mottled skin. You do another, and then another, following the shape of the bruise with your lips.

Wrecker lets out a low groan, followed by a chuckle that makes your stomach flip.

“Don’t start something that I won’t be able to finish.”

You pull back, internally chastising yourself. You know he’s hurting, and yet-

He interrupts your thoughts.

“I can already hear ya in that head of yours, pretty thing. I’m alright. Just need some rest.” He turns around to face you finally, and he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t want ya to worry about me ok?”

You snort. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.” You lean back, tilting your face up and accepting your first kiss since Wreckers return home. “Now let’s get you into some clean clothes and into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

#bad batch spoilers #tbb wrecker #wrecker x reader #i had fun with this tehehe #also if ANYONE gets what the title is a reference to please shout it out!!!

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cocogrrrl · 10 months

Text

soft launching

yn, a streamer, eases the audience into the slow reveal of their boyfriend, kyle.

kyle broflovski x streamer!gn!reader no cws all fluff 😾 wc: 1399

CinnamunHunny donated 5$!: can you say “yn has zero pull” it’s my dog’s birthday please please please it would make her the happiest dog in the world

You read the donation sent on your screen. You jokingly scoffed, rolling your eyes. This was just typical usual banter between you and your fans. Sure, sometimes they were absolutely ruthless, but you loved them despite that.

“Chat, that’s not nice! I’ll have you know that I actually have a boyfriend.” You pouted.

Immediately, the responses were polarizing. Some asked to see him, and some said that you were making him up. You laughed at a few that said he was just a figment of your imagination.

m30wm30w: i bet yn’s js gonna say that their bf is paul dano or something

“Okay, whoever just said that I’m gonna fake out and say my boyfriend is Paul Dano is wrong because it would actually be Michael Cera.” You laughed, seeing the rest of the comments flood in quickly, not even getting enough time to read a good number of them. “I do have a boyfriend, though. I promise!”

For the remainder of the stream, the chat kept on bringing up your boyfriend. Sometimes you’d tease them a bit, describing how he is but never revealing too much. Most of the time, though, you decided to ignore it in the most polite way possible.

What would your boyfriend think about you revealing his identity? Honestly, he doesn’t care. You two have talked it out long ago already. When you started dating around six months ago, you came to the conclusion to lie low.

At first, he wanted things to be kept secret, having only your friends and family know. After a while, though, when the conversation was brought up again, he noted that he didn’t mind if you mentioned him. He said you two could slowly build up to his reveal whenever the both of you are ready to do so.

And so that’s what you did.

That night, you finally broke the news to him. It was after your stream. You were snuggled up on his chest as you scrolled through Twitter, noting your name slowly trending because of the news you broke earlier.

“Babe,” you called, sitting up straight to look at him. He answered you with silence, attention was placed on you. “Finally told them about us.”

Kyle immediately knew what you meant by ‘them.’ “Yeah, you think I didn’t see it?”

“Hmm, I was debating on it.” You hummed, finding your place back on his chest again. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? We’ve already talked about this, and you already know I’m fine with it.” He smiled, grabbing your face by the sides and laying a swift kiss on it.

“Yeah, thanks, Kyle. I love you.” You giggled, rising once more to return the kiss.

So that’s how it went on for the next few weeks. You continued to tease the chat with the idea of your boyfriend, most of them believing you despite the numerous amount of “I’m sure he’s just a figment of your imagination.” jokes that came along the way.

That was all great until you actually confirmed his existence from the perspective of your chat one day.

You were in a Just Chatting stream, not really having the energy to do your usual act but still wanting to interact with your fans. Kyle was across the room, scrolling through his phone as you were streaming. The chat was flaming you once more since the topic of your boyfriend was brought up.

“He is real! In fact, he’s here right now.” You said, turning your head to Kyle, who looked back at you with a wave. “Babe, say ‘hi’ for me.”

“Hi, chat!” He called from across the room. “I’m YN’s partner, and I love them very much.”

“Okay, don’t flatter me too much. I might combust if you do.” You laughed, blowing him a kiss. You felt your cheeks heat up, and so you found yourself rubbing your temple to hide them.

hhhhdong: nawhhh i cant believe yn actually paid an actor to act as their bf 💀💀💀

“Chat, I did not pay an actor! I don’t have enough money to do that.”

After the stream, you and Kyle were cuddled up again. Your social battery was completely drained, so spending some time in his arms would help you recharge again.

“Your chat is ruthless, YN.” Kyle laughed, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“They’re funny, though. Besides, I’m not really hurt at all.”

You felt like this whole “build-up reveal” thing was fun. It felt like Kyle was a secret you had to yourself. In a weird way, this whole thing felt sweet and exciting to you. You knew why you kept things private, of course, but it was fun to slowly show the world how much you loved him and how proud you were to have him as your boyfriend. Granted, a bunch of the comments still just claim that Kyle’s just a life-size cardboard cutout of Michael Cera.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“When do you think you’ll be ready to, like, show your face?” You asked, leaning onto his shoulder as he did his work.

“Well,” he sighed, sitting up to look at you. “I think I’m ready for it. I barely have a presence online.” He laughed. “The question is if you’re ready for people to peer their heads in your life even further.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You hummed. “I wanna show you off, though, Kyle. I want everyone to know that you are the most perfect person alive—and that you’re not a customized photocard of young Jack Black.”

He laughed in response, cupping your face as he gave you a peck on the nose.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A week later, you find yourself promptly naming your stream “BF REVEAL (REAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT).” You set up your camera, tested your mic, and all that jazz as you waited for your fans to come in. Kyle was beside you the whole time you were preparing things, just barely out of the camera’s sight.

Once you turned on your camera, comments started pouring in, asking where he is. You wanted to ease them into it, ready yourself as your chat did. After a bit of banter between you and the chat, you were finally prepared to show your boyfriend.

“Okay, chat. Here’s my boyfriend, Kyle!” As soon as you said that, he came on screen and waved.

“Hello,” he greeted with a sense of meekness to it. “I am, indeed, YN’s boyfriend. I’m not being paid or forced to do this at all.” He lightheartedly joked.

“Oh, my god. Not you too.” You laughed. “But yes! This is Kyle. We’ve been together for about eight months.” You had the biggest grin on your face as you talked to and about him, rocking back and forth in your seat as if you weren’t able to contain your happiness.

You got mixed reactions, some driving the “He’s being held hostage” joke to home, but mostly comments invested in your relationship. For the former, you two just made a silent understanding to just skim through those, ignoring most of them.

“So how are you liking them so far?” You whispered in his ear, bringing your mic farther away from you two.

“Overwhelming, but definitely fun.” He murmured back.

“Yeah, that’s what you said to Stan after our first date, right?” You laughed, your voice a little louder now but still mostly indiscernible to your viewers.

“My god,” he rolled his eyes, moving his hand to your scalp to mess it up.

“You aren’t denying it, though!” Your voice was now booming, your audience could definitely hear you now.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything!” He laughed.

“Uhuh,” you sarcastically replied, nodding as you leaned into him briefly to give him a kiss on the lips. “Totally.”

Your chat was now exploding.

mattstonestoes: PDA WTF

csvismz: theyre so cute i 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶

gorrilass: get that shit away from me

ppp0ppy: this is not for the eyes of god!!!!!!

lkkopi: MICHAEL CERA NO I THOUGHT YOU WERE MARRIED

rosesandlavenders: WAHHHH 💗💗💗💗

dennysofficial: MY OTP ☹️☹️

You shared a laugh with Kyle, reading the comments. This went better than you would’ve expected. Despite everything, you were just glad that you could finally go public and show the world your wonderful boyfriend.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader

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hyacinth43 · 1 month

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how would they all react 2 someone with physical disabilities? chronic fatigue, leg issues, etc.? would they try 2 help?

This is interesting to think about, I have chronic pain issues too, so hopefully my guys would be helpful about it. <3 Here's how they would all react, under the cut because it's long.

Hal

Hal was programmed to be knowledgeable and helpful, so he would already know a lot about your condition and how best to accommodate you. If you used a mobility aid, or needed help with certain tasks, he would always be with you, ready to offer assistance. He's probably the most helpful of the bots in this regard. xD

Despite how he usually acts, I think AM does have some sympathy, and would probably be able to relate in a weird way. He spent so long in his own sensory deprivation hell, he knows what it's like to be treated as different or even lesser, and he knows how isolating it can be. He's also still just getting used to his body, so he wouldn't be much of a help physically, but he would probably be slightly less hateful towards you than he is towards other humans.

Auto

Auto is already the kind of guy to want to do everything for you, so if you had a condition that made it harder for you to do certain things, he would double his efforts. He genuinely tries to be helpful, but he is also pretty overbearing and overprotective, so he would have to be reminded a lot that he doesn't have to do EVERYTHING for you. Hal may be the most helpful, but Auto is the most enthusiastic.

Joshua

Joshua is a bit oblivious to differences between humans, so he wouldn't think anything of it until you told him. He would never judge you or get frustrated, as long as you're still willing to play games with him. If your fatigue or pain is really bad on a certain day, he enjoys just staying by your side and playing board games or doing puzzles together.

Edgar

Edgar only knows about physical disabilities from what he's seen in movies/on TV, so he would want to ask you a lot of questions. He would be a little annoying about it at first, but he's also be very supportive. He would do things around the house for you, and always ask if you need anything, sometimes to an excessive degree. If you have days that are particularly bad pain-wise, he would be there to comfort you and listen to music, draw, or do other low-energy calming activities together.

Wheatley

Wheatley, being Wheatley, wouldn't really understand you, he would kind of freak out, thinking you have some sort of deadly or contagious illness. Once you calm him down and explain what fatigue/chronic pain/etc. are, his demeanor would change and he would be supportive, asking you if you need anything and making sure you get enough rest. He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit.

Tau

Tau isn't very knowledgeable about humans, as Alex restricted his access to information, so you would have to explain to him why you feel pain or have difficulty doing certain things. He would get a little frustrated at first, thinking you just didn't want to do things with him. Once you explain your disability to him, he would understand quickly and be even more helpful than usual. He already likes to clean and cook for you, so if you're feeling particularly bad, he would make sure you are comfortable and well taken care of.

#ask #Thank you anon this is super sweet to think about! <3

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elysiumblue · 9 months

Text

Pick a card - Good thing that's happening soon 😁

Hi. Here's a general reading providing you message about a good thing that's going to happen soon. I feel that this reading is some sort of news you need to know right now too so maybe it's a mix of two lol.

I did this reading because I felt that my readings here are too intense. However, the messages I got this time is also intense so 💀💀💀 The good news may not sounds that "good" at first, but I'm sure that it's a positive thing that needs to happen to bring positive energy in your life.

Also, it's a general reading, so just take what resonates, and leave the rest behind. Don't force things to fit if it doesn't make any sense for you at all!

👇🏻Pick a color that you felt drawn to👇🏻

And find the corresponding reading for you below!

Pile 1

Oops... some of you may not like this news now. The good thing that is going to happen to you is... you will get out of draining, toxic, or even abusive relationship really soon. It can be all sorts of connections but I can feel its more towards romantic relationships. Although I can feel that some of you probably don't want this to happen, I can see that you already know that something is really off about your relationship. So, if this is not the case for you, then this pile may not be your pile.

The existing relationship makes you feel really stuck and you have no idea how to get rid of it. Although you are suffering right now, some of you may still want to cling onto this connection because you don't want to think about how to deal with the consequences, or even how to escape from this connection. Some of you also make yourself believe that it's better for you to continue tolerating their nasty behaviours. However, no matter how hard you trying to convince yourself that things are working out really fine, some thing will happen unexpectedly and destroy your connection. But I don't really feel that it's that unexpected, as I can see that the negativity has already built up for a long time to the point that it's impossible to continue building.

By getting out of this connection, you will have a lot of time to be alone. It may sounds scary for now, but the time for solitude will actually be a very empowering experience for you. You will realize that you don't have to work that hard to get emotional support from others, as you are capable of taking care of yourself. It will be a transformative experience for you, and you will learn what is true love, as well as how to love yourself after the time of being alone.

Also, to be honest, the connection probably already met a dead end long time ago. You tried lots of method to make things work, but things never worked. I guess that's why some of you decided to be delusional, thinking that things are perfectly fine, in order to cope with the situation. It's really feel like a fucking maze and you are constantly trying to find the way out, but you can't. The event that will happen soon will lead you out of the maze, like literally send you to the exit. You will gain lots of clarity, and able to come up with new ideas, as well as new perspectives, when you get rid of the situation that drains so much of your energy. And I will be sure that you will understand in the future that things are not fine at all right now.

It may be a scary experience as it can be shocking and unexpected. However, I am very sure that the event that's happening in the future is exactly what you need, and what you low key wishing for. It'll bring so much positivity to your life, which will be 100x more than the nasty feeling of experiencing the sudden event at first.

(Despite the title, I really feel that this song is indicating that you have lost yourself for so long. With the event, you will be able to meet yourself again, and it'll feel so good for you.)

(And when I was tidying up the cards for your pile, the 7 of swords showed up. I feel that you will seriously question if the future event is good for you in any way. It may even feel so painful for you to experience the event. However, as the imagery of this card suggests, the event is a necessary step of creating the beautiful artwork that the person is drawing. An incomplete drawing always look ugly, but if you endure the "disgust" from the unfinished artwork, and continue working on it, you will receive a beautiful artwork. Everything will worth it when you see how gorgeous the finished work is.)

Pile 2

I can see that you are worrying about something right now. There's something that you really want to do, but you feel that you lack the skills to do it. However, it won't be like this anymore real soon! I can see there will be a person helping you to make things work in the future. They can be a new person or a person you already know. For some of you, the event may come in the form of a random thought, a random inspiration, or even a random dream that you happen to remember.

The event that is going to happen soon is literally a dream come true. It's really like finding THE missing piece of the puzzle, because I can see that you already have everything for the thing to work, except that one spark to start the engine. Yes, you literally have everything you need right now.

Damn, maybe this reading is the one missing thing you need lol. If you are thinking that you lack the skills, I can see that you actually have the skills you think you're lacking. If it's a new concept or knowledge that you think you're lacking, you actually have that in your head right fucking now.

The major problem you're having right now is that you're worrying too much, and also you have like a millions thoughts floating around in your head right now. You really just need that one spark, that one push to make everything into order, and boom, it's done. No additional thing needed except that one hit. Good luck on the thing you're thinking about because you will succeed.

(Yeah. This is the perfect metaphor. You literally have the whole domino sorted out and all you need is that one single push to make a good show. And that one push will happen soon!)

Pile 3

Bruh. The good news for you is you will receive a blessing in disguise of something you absolutely don't want to happen right now. I can see that you are trying to make some innovations, bringing some new ideas, or suggest some changes. You will face a huge obstacle that prevents you from doing the thing you want to do, or a very clear sign showing that you should stop what you're doing right now. It may even be intimidating or infuriating for you at first, but I am sure that you will thank this event for happening in the future.

Judging from the energy of the reading, it seems that you lack the ability to actually do the thing you want to do. You will probably make a mess if you decide to do it. It's a case that you fucked around and unable to find out, or find out something you absolutely don't want to happen. (Yeah, something that's worse than a huge STOP sign telling you to stop what you're doing right now.)

Besides of the fact that you are not capable of pulling the thing off, I can also see that it's unnecessary to go against the flow for now. I am sorry if it's offending you, but I really don't see any positive outcome from carrying out the things you're thinking about. And I am not the type to deter people either, so I am really expressing my honest opinion, with the energy I read from this reading. You will find things to be 10 times better if you make peace with the current situation, instead of going against it.

(Well, I cannot find a song that's directly pointing out the message of this reading so I just share the last song played while I'm typing this. Also, the next song in the queue is about something burning. I take this as a sign that it'll be really dangerous for you if you proceed with what you're wanting to do, ignoring the big STOP sign.)

#pick a card #general tarot reading #tarot reading #this reading is sponsored by loki

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