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porcelana-r0ta · 9 months

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let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead.

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

“What did I do?”

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”

Damn, Jason curses to himself.

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

Jazz doesn’t dispute it.

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!”

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.

“Why are the fucking Bats here?”

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

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traceybrakes · 6 months

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Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the consumer base ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and consuming art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throws of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding pretentious, self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

#long post #really long post #music #death grips #the internet is full of bright and beautiful art so why not help yourself

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iww-gnv · 3 months

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California fast-food workers are forming a unique kind of union

Lizzet Aguilar has worked at a McDonald’s in Los Angeles for 17 years. She’s never once been given a paid day off. She’s never taken a vacation. When her husband or nine-year-old son get sick and need her to care for them—or if she gets sick herself—she has to call out and lose a day’s pay. “Es difícil,” she says: It’s difficult. Her wages are already low. She makes $16.78 per hour. “Estamos luchando día a día. Es difícil vivir en California,” says Aguilar: We live day to day. It’s difficult to live in California. But for many years she was afraid to speak up and join the Fight for 15, a national movement to raise the minimum wage that started with fast-food workers and has since seen 14 states and Washington, D.C., raise their minimum wages to $15 an hour, increasing pay for 26 million workers. Then the pandemic hit and Aguilar’s boss didn’t give workers any hand sanitizer, gloves, or even masks. Six coworkers got COVID-19. “Ese me puso a decir, ‘Basta,’” she recalls: It pushed her to say, Enough. She got involved to protect herself and her family. Now Aguilar will be part of the next evolution in the Fight for 15 movement: She and her coworkers will announce on February 9 that they are forming the California Fast Food Workers Union, which will be part of SEIU. Hundreds of workers from different fast-food companies will gather in Los Angeles to sign union cards. It’s time, Aguilar and her coworkers decided, to become more formal members of a union and pay dues. It’s a fresh start, she says, on the road toward securing bigger gains.

Read the rest here.

#news #labor news #fast food workers #fast food #food service #food and dining #unionize #union strong #fight for 15 #california fast food workers union #california news #california #us news

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 month

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Just a Taste | Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader

Follow up to Boyfriend!Soap drabble. Summary: You've given Johnny permission to fuck you while you sleep. He needs a little encouragement. Warnings: Somnophilia, consensual somno, pussy eating, dirty talk, PiV (unprotected, wrap it up folks). Wordcount: 1.8k [AO3]

CoD/141 Masterlist Main Masterlist

Johnny can’t sleep.

Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept, it’s been on his mind every time the two of you go to bed. But every time he tries to muster the courage to do it, he chickens out. It’s like an itch at the back of his brain, taunting him mercilessly.

He rolls over, looking at you as you sleep with your back to him, stark naked with the covers loosely draped around your middle. He watches you for a few minutes, trying to ignore the way his dick twitches when you let out a soft whine in your sleep as you stretch.

“Depraved cunt,” Soap groans, reprimanding himself as he wraps his thick fingers around his shaft.

He lets out a pained moan as he pumps his length at a leisurely pace. His fingers are coated in precome already and he blushes at the realisation of how keyed up he is.

“You’re a fuckin’ siren, temptin’ me with that kinky little idea,” he breathes into the space between you as he picks up the pace, breath coming in ragged bursts as he tries not to jostle the bed too hard.

“Just wanna stuff my cock in yer slick little hole,” he groans a little louder this time as he feels his stomach flutter with his impending release.

He’s about to whisper more filth when you move suddenly.

Soap watches in awe as you roll onto your back, tits jiggling in the moonlight that spills in from the window. He tries to stop the inevitable, gripping the base of his cock as a sweet, soft sigh slips from your lips.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he rolls onto his back, exploding over his abdomen as he comes hard. His balls tighten as hot ropes of come splatter across his skin, his chest heaving as he sees stars. He huffs despondently as he feels his come cooling uncomfortably on his belly as you let out a soft snore.

He laughs to himself as he tries to muster the energy to get up and clean himself off.

“Temptress,” he growls under his breath as you sleep seemingly oblivious next to him.

~*~

You sigh as you hear the faucet running in your en-suite. You were certain Soap would do it this time. Ever since you told him he could fuck you while you slept you’ve been desperate for him to just do it already.

But there’s something painfully sweet at the way Soap is struggling to take the plunge and just use you. Last night you slept in just a pretty pair of pink cotton panties. He’d gotten as far as grinding against your ass before ducking out to wank in the bathroom.

Tonight, you thought sleeping nude would have tipped him over the edge. If anything, he seemed even more hesitant to touch you. You need to get creative.

~*~

Every day since, you’d put on a show for him. When you came home you had stripped bare, before putting on one of his old ratty t shirts and nothing else. Every other movement meant Soap had a front row seat to your ass, or your bare pussy, or sometimes a combination of both.

The worst part: You wouldn’t let him touch you.

Tonight, you had been sprawled out on the sofa, legs spread as you had your head in his lap as you watched TV. He’d tried to subtly cop a feel, his dick achingly hard as he trailed his fingertips up the inside of your thigh.

“Not feeling it babe,” you had whined, batting his hand away just as he reached the apex of your thighs.

“Hen, come on,” he had groaned, looking down at you with a pained look on his face. He had felt the damp evidence of your arousal, you made sure of it before batting his hand away.

“Going to go to bed,” you had yawned dramatically before sauntering off to bed, making sure to raise your arms up in an exaggerated stretch, baring your ass to him before disappearing into the bedroom.

Now, Soap is curled around you, dick pressed against the valley of your ass as you rock backwards on it, seemingly fast asleep. You’re still in his t-shirt, and he knows he won’t be able to hold back tonight. He can smell himself on you as he buries his nose just behind your ear.

“Hen?”

You grunt noncommittally as you feign sleep, wriggling away from him a little before turning on your front, purposefully riding your shirt up to expose your ass and lower back.

You hear him exhale heavily behind you and you panic, worried he’s about to give up and either wank alone or just go to sleep. You make a split-second decision and hitch one of your knees up, gasping sleepily as you feel cool air hit your cunt.

“Fuck it,” you hear him growl and you have to stop yourself from reacting as you feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions, “Goin’ to hell for his.”

You feel him gently, gingerly, drag his calloused fingertips along your skin. They catch and drag over the backs of your heels, scraping up and over the meat of your calves. You can’t help but shudder as they weave over the tender skin on the back of your knees.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, can’t help myself,” Johnny groans low as you feel his broad palms press into the backs of your thighs, spreading them out to expose your dripping cunt to him. You bite your lip, desperate to keep up the act of being sound asleep as his thumbs push your pillowy cheeks apart.

“Look at that bonnie little cunt,” he whispers, and you clench, unable to stop yourself reacting to his slurred praise, “Just a taste, that’s all I need.”

You tremble in anticipation as you feel his broad form settle between your spread legs, hot breath fanning against your thighs as he inches his mouth closer to your dripping folds.

Johnny’s tongue swirls around your entrance; the blunt tip teasing and cruel in the way he presses hard enough to make you clench, but not deep enough to breach your hole.

“Like fuckin’ honey,” Johnny groans as he continues to tease you, lapping up your slick as he settles further into the apex of your thighs, “Still asleep hen?”

You bite your lip as you shudder, trying to stay as still as you can as you feel him kiss your folds gently. His soft lips and tender tongue devour your slick cunt as he takes a heady inhale of your cunt.

“Wonder if I can make you come like this lass? Yeah, I bet I can.”

You try not to squirm as you feel his tongue flick over your clit. It’s probing, teasing, torture as he sucks it between his lips. The wet push and pull of his mouth on your sensitive bud is almost too much as you let a soft moan slip from your lips as you try and muffle it in the pillow beneath you.

“Yeah, you like that?” Johnny mumbles against your cunt as he brings two fingers up to your core, “Dirty lass,” he huffs as he pushes them deep inside you. You whimper as you feel the spill of arousal flood through you. You can’t hold back with the way Johnny is pumping his thick fingers inside you, suckling at your clit, and groaning deep as he ruts into the mattress below him.

“There you go, good lass,” he growls as he rakes his teeth over your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge, “Come for me hen.”

And you do.

Your whole body quakes with ripples of pleasure as you clamp down on Johnny’s fingers. Your teeth sink into the pillowcase as you stifle the scream that bubbles in your throat.

“Such a nasty girl,” Johnny groans as he eases his fingers out, “Be a shame not to fuck your desperate little cunt right now.”

You try not to squeal in anticipation at his admission. You’re so ready for this, so desperate for him to use you.

“Johnny,” you sigh, trying to sound sleepy as you squirm beneath him, and you feel him freeze behind you. You smirk to yourself as you wriggle beneath him, your knees pulling up under you as you bare yourself to him, silently begging him to fuck you.

“Sure you’re not awake lass?” He chuckles, already lining his weeping tip against your core. You feel the way his tip stretches you out instantly and you’re gushing for it. You offer him a soft “hmpf” in response that only compels Soap to press his thick cock deep inside you. You cry out at the stretch and there’s no concealing the fact you’re awake any longer.

“There she is,” Johnny growls as he slides his hands over your ass cheeks, landing on your hips as he pulls you back onto his thick length, “Knew you weren’t asleep.”

“Johnny,” you whine as he spears you from behind as he snaps his hips forward, “Jus’ wanted you to have fun, use me.”

“I know hen,” he rasps through gritted teeth, “Fucking idiot I am, next time I’ll fuck you stupid, wake you up as I split you on my cock.”

“Fuck yes,” you whine as he fucks down into you hard and fast, punching the air from your lungs as you look over your shoulder.

“Gonna come in this tight little cunt lass,” Johnny wheezes as you feel his brutal pace stutter as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck me Johnny, fuck me!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a truck. You cry out as you come hard around his cock, clenching hard as you fall limp into the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck!” Johnny exhales with a low grunt as he empties his balls, coating your insides as he continues to rut into your sopping cunt as he fills you with his spend.

Your cunt clamps down on him as you milk him dry and it seems like a lifetime before both of your trembling, overstimulated bodies still.

“Fuckin’ bewitched me lass, that was somethin’ else,” Johnny wheezes as he falls forward, lips pressed against the back of your neck as he slides his softening cock out of you.

“Glad you liked it,” you huff as you feel his weight bear down on you as you fall forward, letting his broad form press you down into the mattress.

“Fuckin’ loved it,” he says with a huff as he nips at the column of your neck.

You lie there for some time, sleep pulling at your eyelids as you try and fight off the allure of sexually sated contentment.

“C’mon Johnny, let’s get showered and head to bed,” you say wearily as you let his large form smother you from behind.

“Aye, lass,” he breathes against your cooling skin, “After you.”

CoD/141 MasterlistMain Masterlist

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paperultra · 8 months

Text

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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totaly-obsessed · 2 months

Text

The Weight of Expectations

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Happy Birthday to my darling @greynatomy, love ya!

-> Alexia struggles through the IVF journey and turns mean

-> Talk of pregnancy, alcohol and abuse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”

Oh. Alexia was home, something new. You were currently in the bathroom closest to the bedroom, heaving up anything that you had eaten, even the light soup.

For a couple of days, you had been like this, and two days ago you had finally done a test. A pregnancy test. This was the last IVF round before Ale and you had to start considering other options like adoption. The first 2 rounds had failed.

Positive. The goddamn test was finally positive.

Immediately you had made an appointment for a blood test to get done. You just had to be sure before telling Alexia. The blonde already blamed herself, thinking she had waited for too long, hesitant to have a child while in the midst of her career before she finally committed to it.

You had been so incredibly happy when she came to you after a game. Tears streamed down your face when she told you that she was ready to have a child. With you.

The disappointment of two failed attempts weighed heavily on Alexia. She desperately tried to console you as you cried, hiding her own tears in her pillow when you finally passed out. How could she be sad when you had to go through the physical aspect as well?

She shouldn't have waited that long, maybe 29 was too old.

After that things changed. She had left for Spain camp, and after that, she threw herself back into work in Barcelona. Her surgery was healing well and she was getting better and better by the day.

Meanwhile, you were sat at home, trying to understand the change in your wife. Did you do something wrong? With the previous tries the footballer had been so involved, checking in on you multiple times a day when she was at training.

And now? Nothing.

Alone you had gone to the blood test yesterday, not even needing an explanation for your wife, who came home after you had gone to bed and left before you woke up.

Eight Weeks. You were already two months along. In Alexia's absence, you had completely forgotten to test, wanting to do it with her.

As soon as you had gotten the confirmation, the morning sickness hit ten times harder. Who even decided to call it that? Morning sickness… What a stupid fucking name. The whole day was filled with sudden cramps and vomiting.

And you had done it all alone until now.

But Alexia was here now, yelling in the kitchen, before she stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, looking into every door available on her way. She was looking for you.

She hesitated for a second, seeing you crouched on the floor, head over the toilet, and pale as the white wall behind you.

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”, she yelled again, now in your face.

“I am serious Ale, what's up?”

This was the first time you had seen her in a couple of days, her roots were starting to show, as did the bags under her eyes. But the rest of her body looked stronger than ever, the countless hours in the gym paying off.

“The kitchen is a mess, you didn’t do the laundry and you didn't mop the floors either. Look how filthy it is in this house!”

Wow.

You didn't know what you had been expecting. But definitely not this.

With slow movements you pushed yourself up, using the sink to help balance yourself. Fuck were you dizzy.

“W- What did you mean?” You hated how meek your voice sounded after your wife practically yelled at you.

Her face was red, and her eyes looked like she had been bitten by the devil, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth.

Crazy. She looked really fucking crazy, and it was terrifying.

“¿En serio?”

“Let’s just go downstairs, I made dinner and we can talk about it.”

With a scoff the blonde turned on the spot, stomping down the stairs, leaving you in the bathroom. Tears threatened to fall. What has happened?

With your nausea, it took you a bit longer to navigate the stairs. Every step hurt, but Alexia couldn’t care less about your pain-filled noises. She was busy stabbing a fork into her dinner, already scarfing a plate of your favorite pasta dish down.

“Finally. God, you always take so long.”

The words were filled with hate as she spat them at you, not even noticing that a bit of the sauce was flung onto her cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit, she had never managed to eat without making a mess of herself and the table. With a damp cloth, you tried to wipe the spot away, but when she hit your hand away from her, the cloth sailed to the floor as you looked at her. Eyes wide in panic.

“I am not your goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

Your wives' usually warm eyes pierced your heart even more. Was this really the same woman who would carry you to bed every night, even after grueling training and rehab sessions?

The tears you had breathed away were back, a painful sensation in your eyes as Alexia continued to devour the meal you had prepared with so much excitement to tell her as if it didn't mean anything.

“This tastes like shit. Not even good for cooking.” She threw the fork on the plate, the clattering sound ripping you out of your shock-induced trance. “Do you want me to make you something different?

Your wife looked terrifying. Her eyes were wide open with small pupils that moved around quickly, looking you up and down before making their way through the house. The rest of her face was stoic, a facade she had perfected over the years. One that she didn’t usually use with you.

“No. I don’t want new food. I want you to get yourself together.”

The room filled with a heavy silence that nearly made you gasp for air. What did she mean?

“Amore I don’t know what has gotten into you, but maybe we should just go for a quick walk? Get some fresh air?”

That was the final nail in the coffin for the footballer, who stood up with such force, that the chair slid back and toppled over with a startling noise.

“Fresh air? You want fresh air?” She was getting in your face now, hunching a little to really get close. “Do you know what I want?”

Her breath was warm as it hit your nose.

Alcohol. You could smell alcohol.

She was a mean drunk, snapping at anyone who dared to get too close to her, her dog, or you. But just like her stern face, you were usually safe from her drunken attitude. Your wife always pushed you behind her as soon as anything looked like trouble.

This was new and you hated it.

“What do you want Ale?”

the defender had emptied your cup of coffee in one go, slamming the mug down on the counter.

“What do I want? I a housewife that can actually do her fucking job!” She was yelling now, some of the words accentuated with harsh hand movements and slight pushes to your shoulders.

“And look at how you let yourself go. Fucking pathetic! How can I even show myself in public with you?”

Shit that hurt.

You were finally pregnant with a very much wanted child, and she acted like this after leaving you alone for such a long time.

“Gained so much weight it’s-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't yell. You didn’t shout. You said it with a normal voice. Well as normal as you could with tears threatening to spill.

But it was enough to quiet the drunk blonde.

“Pregnant? You’re pregnant?”

It felt as if she was looking at you for the first time when her eyes softened and her whole body slumped. She fucked up. And she knew it.

In a frenzy you started packing things, throwing stuff into a suitcase while your wife tried to stop you. “Where are you going? Amore, please! I am so sorry!”

But it was too late.

With a suitcase and Alexia’s car, you made your way to Eli’s house, you had no one in Spain, all your family back home, so you decided to turn to your wife's mother who loved you to no end and had spent a lot of time at your house while Alexias had been ‘busy’ the last few weeks.

Alexia watched as you left. You were pregnant with a child that she wanted so badly, and she fucked it up.

Tomorrow she will make up for it. She really will.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso community #alexias putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #barça femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni

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thebearer · 10 months

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where there's smoke |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: carmen's been busy at work, and you miss him. high stress mixed with heightened emotions leads to a fight.

contains: angst, a fight (they make up at the end dw). language, mean-ish carmen, mean-ish reader, alludes to smut very briefly at the end. minors dni 18+

“What time will you be home tonight?” You asked, knees pulled to your chest in the bed, watching Carmen slip on his shirt, bustling around your shared bedroom.

“Uh, probably not until late tonight. Sorry, baby.” Carmen muttered, but he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded… distracted. He had been for a while, early mornings and long nights at the restaurant, busy building and perfecting the menu. You understood it, knew he had to do it, but, fuck, if you didn’t miss Carmen. It was lonely without him.

“Oh,” You didn’t mean to sound so small, so disappointed.

Carmen turned, eyes flashing to you at the first sign of upset. “Why? Did we have plans?” He cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, ‘m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to say it like that. That was douchey. I just… My mind has been all over the place, baby, I just-”

“-We didn’t have plans.” You said, looking down at the comforter. You’d brought it from your old apartment when you moved in, since Carmen’s was a thin quilt that barely covered him let alone the both of you.

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed. “I just… I dunno. I was hoping I’d get to see you tonight.” You muttered. You knew you sounded clingy and desperate, and fuck you’d swore you’d never be that girl. Yet here you were. “I just miss you, Carmy.”

“I know.” Carmen nodded slowly. “I know, and I’m sorry, baby. I just really have to finish perfecting this menu.”

“I know, Carmen, but you can’t take one night?” You asked, head tilting towards him. “I never see you anymore.”

“You could come down for family.” Carmen countered, his voice had the faint twinge of an edge, cutting and a little exasperated.

“Carmen,” You looked at him, unimpressed. “I meant while you’re not working. I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Then come down to family and spend it with me.” Carmen huffed lightly. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“Are you- You’re not being serious.” You scoffed. “Don’t know what else to do-” Your voice raised, trilling to a dangerous octave that had Carmen’s eyes shutting.

“Please.” Carmen held up a hand. “I-I don’t wanna do this with you right now, ok? I have a lot of shit going on-”

“Oh, you always have a lot of shit going on.” You spat, rolling your eyes at him. “It’s always something, Carmen, I swear to God. If it isn’t the menu, then it’s installing something new, or-or it’s events, or something! God, it’s always something!”

“Yeah, yeah, it is.” Carmen snapped, jaw flexing through the mirror to look at you. “That’s kinda the territory of owning a business, baby.”

“That’s bullshit.” You snapped. “That’s bullshit and you know it is. A lot of people own businesses and they still make time for what matters.” The room was still after you said it, an eerie stillness that had Carmen uneasy, stomach twisting with nerves.

When he didn’t reply, your heart stopped, plummeting into the pit of your stomach. “Am-Am I not important to you?” You croaked through a tight throat.

“What? Fuck, no, no, you are. Don’t-Don’t even start that shit with me, ok? You fucking know you are.” You know I love you. It was unspoken, but you heard it, the sentiment easing your worries for a moment.

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You snapped, lips pressed together. “Why don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“I do.” Carmen grit, throwing his head back gently. “Look, can we talk tonight? I really have to go.”

“Of course you do.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the hurt in your tone. Tossing the comforter off you, the soft blanket fell in front of Carmen, his eyes tracking your storm off to the bathroom.

“Baby, c’mon, I didn’t mean it like-”

“Just fucking go, Carmen!” You sneered. “I’ve already wasted enough of your time, clearly.” He didn’t miss the flash of hurt across your face, brief, before you slammed the door shut, shaking the house.

Carmen didn’t want to leave you, he hated when you fought, always leaving him feeling guilty and sick and anxious. He was already reaching for his spirits with shaky hands, feeling his phone buzz- Sydney or Richie or Tina or someone calling asking him where he was.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, Carmen grabbed his keys, stopping hesitantly outside the door. He could hear the steady stream of the faucet hitting the porcelain of the sink from the other side. “I love you.” He muttered, and while he didn’t expect you to reply, it still hurt to not hear it back.

“Oh, this is your new place, Chef?” Marcus grinned, following Carmen into the apartment, the smell of whatever candle you had burning enveloping his senses.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s, uh, it’s our place.” Carmen nodded, placing his keys in the small, green trinket bowl. Carmen laughed lightly, nodding towards it. “She did most of the decorating, as you can tell.”

“It looks nice though.” Sydney chimed, clutching the bottle of wine behind Marcus. “Very cozy and homey and… aesthetic.”

“Aesthetic?” Richie snorted, brow raised. “The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means I had a plan going into decorating.” You appeared from the hallway, a basket of laundry on your hip. “I didn’t just tack up the Hooters’ girl calendar on the wall and call it decor.”

Richie rolled his eyes at you, shutting the door behind him. “Whatever. I had a picture too.”

You scoffed, setting the basket down in the hallway. Carmen grimaced slightly. “Hi, baby.” He greeted, lips brushing over your cheek. “I, uh, we’re gonna try a new dish.”

“Oh?” You quipped, brow raised challengingly. “In my kitchen I just cleaned.” Carmen flinched, eyes cutting in a warning at you. “Why didn’t you do it at the restaurant?”

“We didn’t have everything we needed.” Carmen replied, a flick in his tone that he hoped you caught on to. One that warned you to settle down. He wasn’t looking for a fight or any ounce of the attitude you’d had lately.

“Hm,” You hummed, lips pursed. “Wish you would’ve told me before people came over.” You sneered behind a toothy smile that looked more like a threat than a convincing welcome. “I would have put on some actual clothes.”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart. It’s just us.” Richie grinned. Even his goofy demeanor didn’t relax you, eyes cutting towards him in a chilling glare.

“It was a last minute thing, baby, c’mon.” Carmen begged, eyes pleading with you softly. “Don’t do this right now.” He muttered, a soft huff of a request that had your blood boiling, itching with a blinding rage that could only be directed at him.

“Don’t let me bother you.” You snapped, leaning down to snatch the basket back on your hip, eyes boring fiercely into Carmen’s blue ones. You stomped towards the bedroom, shutting the door so hard the walls shook.

Carmen burned with embarrassment, sure his neck and cheeks were rising with flush. Richie whistled lowly. “Cousin, what did you do, huh?” He snickered. “She is pissed.”

“She’s not pissed.” Carmen snapped, running a hand through his curls. “She’s just… fuck, I don’t know, alright? She’s on me about spendin’ time with her and-and… I don’t even fuckin’ know.”

“I mean…” Sydney swayed awkwardly, sliding the bottle of wine on the counter. “That’s a valid thing to be mad about. Not spending time with her. That’s not, like, a crazy thing to be mad about.”

“We live together.” Carmen sighed, exasperatedly. The same fight unfolding in front of him, just with a different person he was arguing his case to this time. “You know what- don’t answer that, alright? Just-Just… let’s make this dish, ok?”

You could hear the low mummering outside your door, down the hall. You fisted the shirt- Carmen’s shirt- angrily, frowning at it like if you glared hard enough, it might just burst into flames. It didn’t, so you opted to throw it towards the side of his bed. You were a mad woman, possessed and furious, that anger only bristling more and more every time you could hear his voice, commanding and joking with his friends outside the door. Oh, it infuriated you. Now he was bringing work home, quite literally to your house.

You couldn’t let your mind race like this, you wouldn’t. You knew if you let it stew, you’d be storming in there, screaming at Carmen and causing a scene in front of his friends. A version of you from the past would have, the same insecure and needy girl you were before you knew Carmen, when you were still chasing affection from a boy who rejected you for sport- who did it to hurt you purposefully.

Instead, you took a breath, turning on the TV to some reality show that would keep you distracted.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s soft voice followed the rasp on the door, pushing it open gently. The hallway light spilled in, his head following with soft eyes. “We have dinner ready if you want any. If you wanna be my taste tester.” There was a playful softness in his voice that made your heart lurch. Made you want to sob.

“I’m not hungry.” You answered instead, jaw locking to keep the threat of tears from spilling out of your chest.

Carmen’s face fell. “C’mon, don’t be like that.” He cooed, stepping into the room fully. He could see the way your lip wobbled when you spoke to him like that, sweet and coddling when you were so mad at him. “Come out here with me. Come try this, please? I wanna spend time with you, baby. Like you asked-”

“-I meant alone time, Carmen.” You hissed, your voice a tad louder than it should have been.

Carmen flinched, looking over his shoulder at the open door. He hoped your remark didn’t carry down the hall to the others. “I’ll send them home in a little bit. After we taste this, alright? Please?”

You nearly caved. You wanted to. Wanted to let him sway you, put his hand on your hip and pull you into his side. Wanted him to cup his hand under your chin, fingertips barely brushing your jaw while he gave you that first test, blue eyes dazzling with excitement while he waited for your praise- you always gave him praise.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to give in. Pride and your heart hurt, sensitive from feeling discarded, from the fights, from the frustration. You pressed your lips together, turning back to the TV. “I’m not hungry.” You snapped, cold.

Carmen’s own face fell, heart sinking in his chest. “Ok.” He nodded. He watched you for a moment, the way you refused to look at him, sullen and pouty- so mean. Something flipped, a switch inside him that had his own jaw clenching. “Heard.” He bit, closing the door rather firmly, heavy steps down the hallway to the kitchen.

“I came home to spend time with you-”

“-No, you didn’t! You came home to fucking work!” You roared back. You and Carmen’s voices had been a building crescendo from the moment he came into the bedroom. His staff was gone, leaving just the two of you in the tension-filled apartment.

“How is that not spending time with you?” Carmen’s voice boomed, reaching that final point in his tone- the point of no return. No chance of composure, no he was furious. Vein protruding, eyes bulging, kind of furious. “How?”

“How?” You gawked back, a tight knuckled grip on the throw pillow.

“Yeah, how? Tell me fuckin’ how that makes any sorta fuckin’ sense!” Carmen threw his arms out. “I would’ve stayed at the goddam restaurant-”

“Maybe you should have.” You sneered, eyes narrowing at him. “You bring all those people here-”

“-Those people-”

“-Yeah, Carmy, those people, and you say we’re spending time together.” You grit, teeth barred and angry. “I wanted to spend time with you. Just you.”

Carmen’s jaw locked, running a hand down his face. “So you had to be so mean? So fuckin’ rude? That’s my family, my friends-”

“And what am I?” You smacked the bed with an open palm, the echo a cutting silence between you two. Carmen froze, angry but still, watching you. Your jaw clenched, lips pressing together to keep your emotion in, furious and hurt.

“I just wanted to spend time with you. You’ve been at the fucking restaurant all the time, and-and…” I miss you. What you didn’t say.

Carmen’s arms crossed over his chest, jaw flexing. “Yeah, well, maybe I shoulda stayed there tonight.”

The gasp that left you was soft, deflated with hurt. Your throat burned with the threat of tears, lip wobbling, nails digging into the cushion of the pillow still in your hands. “Get out!” You roared, pointing to the door. “Get the fuck out, Carmen! Fuck you!”

“And go where, huh? This is my apartment too!”

“Go back to your fucking restaurant! I don’t fucking care! Just go! I don’t want you anywhere fucking near me, you piece of shit!” Your chest heaved, nose running with the threat of tears that you tried to hold back.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere this is my fuckin’ apartment, too!” Carmen roared, voice so loud it rattled the pictures on the bedside- framed photos of the two of you.

“Fine.” You snapped, lips pressing together furiously. You snatched your pillow from your side, yanking your charger out of the wall, before turning and flinging the throw pillow at Carmen furiously.

“The fuck are you-”

“- I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” You snapped, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes that you tried to hide. “You want to be away from me? Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight because I don’t want to even look at your fucking face right now.”

Carmen watched in slow motion, the slamming of the bedroom door, which did shake the entire frame- your neighbors were going to be furious. The low creak of the couch, the one you’d bought when you moved in. You’d been so happy when you found it, a pretty little sectional from a discount store that you’d been positively giddy about. He and Richie and Marcus carried it up the two flights of stairs for you, and you’d squealed when he got it in the living room, arms thrown around him, peppering kisses into his cheek.

God, Carmen would do anything to feel like that again. Instead of the piece of shit he felt like now, hands shaking with rage or nerves or everything. His stomach turned, lurching, mouth filling with spit that he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Oh, he felt sick. Repulsed at himself, at what he said, how he said it- to you.

“Fuck!” Carmen’s voice made you jump, echoed and angry from down the hall.

You curled further into yourself, pulling the throw blanket over your mouth to try and muffle your own sobs. Keep the sounds of despair in your chest, away from him. Your own chest aching, burning with emotions and hurt.

You weren’t sure when you’d dozed off, chest still hiccuping with shaky sobs post-cry. Carmen’s footsteps startled you, soft- well, as soft as he could be against the hardwood floors creaking under his weight. Your eyes fluttered open, burning and blurry when you rubbed them, making out his figure above you, blankets and pillows huddled in his hands.

“What?” You snapped, voice groggy with sleep and tears but the malice was still there.

“Can’t sleep.” Carmen grunted. He hadn’t been able to sleep, not in that bed, not without you. Not knowing that you were hurt and angry and alone down the hall. Not knowing it was his fault. He spent the majority of the night leaning over the toilet, sobbing and heaving, wracked with a painful guilt.

“You’re not sleeping in here. I meant it, Carmen, I don’t want to be near you.” You sneered, hoping he couldn’t see your tear stained cheeks in the illuminated light of the moon.

“’m sleepin’ on the floor.” Carmen muttered, walking on the other side of the coffee table away from you. He groaned, spreading the blanket on the ground, plopping his pillow on top of it with a muted thud. “Can’t fuckin’ sleep without you, y’know that.” It was a soft admission, one that had your heart warming lightly, dulling the ache.

You didn’t say anything else, turning towards the cushions and away from him, hearing Carmen settle on the other side of the room. “I just wanna say one thing, and I’ll leave you alone. I know you’re mad at me, don’t blame you.” Carmen’s voice cut through the silence of the apartment. “But I’m sorry. I’m really fuckin’ sorry for-for it all.” His voice hitched, a crack that had your own chest swelling with tears again.

“I shouldn’t have ever yelled like that, or-or said that.” Carmen pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling, his chest from tightening even more. “And it’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, or mean t’not. It’s just… I get so into things sometimes, and-and it’s like if I don’t finish it, I feel like everything is just wrong.”

You didn’t reply. You weren’t sure what to even say. You knew Carmen was tightly wound, a perfectionist convinced that the slightest slip would leave his world crumbling. If he wasn’t ahead, he was wrong- it was how he was wired.

“That’s not fair t’you and I know- I know that.” You could hear the staggered breathing in Carmen’s voice, his chest tightening and hands shaking.

“Carmen,” You pushed up on your arms to look over the couch at him.

“It’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry, and-and I’ll call Syd in the morning and tell her to cover the day-”

“Carmen.” Your voice cut his rambling off, his chest rising and falling sharply, you could see the silhouette of the night. “It’s ok.”

Carmen laughed, humorless and watery, hands covering his face. “It’s not ok, it’s not fucking ok.” His breathing hitched, a strangled sob that had you wincing. “I-I’m a fucking dick.”

“No,” You said easily, calmly. “I mean, yeah, you were earlier, but you’re not as, like, a whole a fucking dick.”

Carmen sighed softly, lighter this time. “I shouldn’t’ve talked to you like that.” He admitted quietly, staring at the ceiling. “Shouldn’t’ve screamed at you either.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have either.” You admitted, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

“You don’t have to-”

“-Yeah, I do, Carmy. I was wrong too. Both of us were.” You said firmly. He didn’t reply, simply swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. “And I’m really fucking sorry about that.”

“It’s ok.” Carmen whispered, his head lolling over to the side to look at you. “I’m sorry for being a dick, and-and not spendin’ enough time with you, and all the other stuff.”

“It’s ok.” You nodded, looking at him carefully, taking in his wet lashes, shaking hands. “Do you want to… Let’s go to bed.”

“I’ll stay in here, and you can go in the-”

“-No, Carmen.” You shook your head. “Come to bed with me, please.” You asked gently, sweetly. A complete turn around from before, screaming yells that left your voice hoarse traded in for soft words.

“Ok.” Carmen whispered, sitting up in the dark quiet of your living room.

You helped him gather the comforter, dragging it down the hall and slinging it over the bed, the two of you sliding under it. Carmen’s hands on your waist, your back, grabbing at your leg pulling you closer and closer until you were flush against his skin, nose pressed into your scalp. Trembling hands, running down your back. Whispered apologies and soothing words under the sheets.

Tomorrow, he’d spend the day with you. He’d take you to State Street, let you drag him through the aisles of a store aimlessly, holding your baskets and coffee while you shopped. He’d take you out somewhere nice, though you’d tell him you’d rather him just cook for you- it was always better. You’d hang the mirror in the living room together, and you’d thank him by riding him on the couch.

But that would be tomorrow. For now, it was the two of you, under the sheets clinging to each other, trying to make it better.

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floralcyanide · 9 months

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𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 - 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞

jonathan crane x f!reader

“I broke apart my insides, I’ve got no soul to sell. The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.” “I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside." "You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.”

warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, first time, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spitting, spitballing, cum eating, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking/ deepthroating, nipple play, orgasm denial, porn with some plot, pwp, wow there's a lot here lol

word count: 2316

authors note: if Dr. Jonathan Crane has a million fans, then I'm one of them. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has no fans, that means I'm dead. anyway, I love this man and his character so much, so I had to be feral about him. he's so pretty, and for what??? also Closer by NIN is soooo Jonathan-coded. I don't make the rules. (not beta read, we die like men here)

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Six months have passed, and you’ve yet to have any form of sex with your boyfriend, Dr. Jonathan Crane. You get that he’s busy most of the time and doesn’t really hold sex to a high standard like most men do. But god, you wanted him to have your way with you already. Jonathan looks like he was hand sculpted by the gods themselves with his piercing blue eyes, strong jawline, and perfect lips. You’d do anything to have his stunning face between your legs. And you seriously mean anything at this point. Both of you trust each other with your lives. Jonathan has taken a while to open up to you, and the last thing he’s yet to show you about himself is his sexuality.

For the last week, every time you so much as kiss Jonathan, you get irrevocably turned on. Sometimes he’ll give into you and let his tongue explore your mouth, but then he’ll pull away with a satisfied smirk. It’s almost as if he teases you on purpose. But then again, you doubt Jonathan would do it for this long, purposely depriving you of physical affection. But the things he does, don’t surprise you anymore. He could very well be torturing you without you realizing it.

Everything changes when you stay at Jonathan’s apartment one night. You take a shower and put on your favorite pair of matching lace underwear and a shirt you stole from Jonathan’s dresser the first time you came over. You have no makeup on, you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for bed, and you haven’t put on any pants as of yet. The hem of the shirt is tucked into your underwear unbeknownst to you. So, when Jonathan walks into his bedroom, he sees you standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom with his old white t-shirt inside your bright red underwear. You barely notice his eyes turn three shades darker as you go to rinse your mouth.

Jonathan comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re ducked into the sink, spitting out the remainder of your toothpaste. He presses himself against your ass when it sticks out as you bend over. You don’t pay much attention to Jonathan and him being close to you. He was surprisingly clingy. But when you stand up straight and look at him behind you in the mirror’s reflection, you notice his features are much darker than usual.

“Are you-“ You begin to ask if Jonathan is okay, but before you can finish your sentence, his mouth attaches itself to your neck.

With his hands splayed across your stomach underneath your- his shirt, he pulls your hair away from your shoulder. Jonathan then makes eye contact with you in the mirror as his hands travel up your abdomen to your breasts. He gives them a harsh squeeze as he bites down into the skin between your neck and shoulder. You hiss at the feeling of Jonathan being so close to you, touching you like this. You wonder what’s gotten into him but push that thought aside when his fingertips delve past the lace covering your nipples. You gasp as Jonathan circles one with his index finger, licking up your neck and jaw slowly until he reaches the side of your face.

“You look irresistible,” Jonathan breathes into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you ask, biting your lip in anticipation.

Jonathan picks up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you over to his bed, where he all but gently throws you onto it. Before you can react, Jonathan is on top of you, ripping your underwear clean off your legs.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” Jonathan coos, pushing the shirt up and over your head before unclasping your bra next.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you sigh, tugging at his white button-up that he’s yet to change out of.

“I think I have an idea of how long. Show me how bad you want it,” Jonathan says, moving his hands off of you completely.

The urge to rip the man in front of you apart bubbles up in your lower stomach, and you sit on your knees in front of Jonathan. You rip his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere in the room. You leave open-mouthed kisses on his chest as he slides his fingers through your hair, gripping it harshly as he pulls your head back so you can look at him. You stare at him unwaveringly; your eyes half-lidded with growing lust. After studying the smirk on your face, Jonathan lets go of you, and you immediately go for the button and zipper of his trousers. Unbuckling his belt, you yank it out of the belt loops and toss it on the floor. You pull his pants down his hips far enough for you to get where you want. Pulling Jonathan’s cock out, you marvel at it momentarily before taking his head into your warm mouth. There was no way you’d be able to take all of him without gagging, but you’re going to try anyway. You’ve waited too long for this.

“Fuck,” Jonathan keens as you swivel your tongue around him, gathering his precum.

He realizes he’s definitely waited too long for this.

But he has been nervous about being vulnerable around you. He actually cares about you, believe it or not. And doesn’t want to hurt you- not severely, anyway. Only as much as you’ll let him.

Before Jonathan can tell you to hurry up and take his cock, you slam your nose into his pelvis, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. He lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard, sending heat straight to your bare core. You’re impossibly wet, rubbing your thighs together as you bob your head along Jonathan’s length with fervor. You let him thrust into your mouth as you helplessly gag around him, spit dribbling down your chin as tears fall from your eyes. Jonathan face fucks you, and you simply take it, enjoying every second of his perfect cock in your mouth. Your fingernails dig into his hips, causing him to bite his lip as he looks down at you. You peek up at him through your eyelashes, pulling him out of your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. Suddenly, your face is ripped away from his body.

“Lay back on the bed like a good girl for me,” Jonathan growls, your hair in a vice grip in his hand once again.

You quickly crawl to the pillows, lying down as Jonathan discards the rest of his clothing, completely naked and revealed to you at last. You scan his body, freckles dotting the places his clothing hides. They’re not just dusted along his cheeks but his shoulders too. His back is also covered in constellation-like freckles. Jonathan tries not to notice you studying him, but he can’t help but drink in your appearance too. How your waist and hips make the perfect shape, how your breasts are perked up from your arousal, and how your skin looks in the room's lighting. Jonathan looks perfect to you, and you look flawless to him.

“Beautiful,” Jonathan sighs, kissing your ankle and up your calf until he meets your thigh.

Your breath hitches as his face lingers at your pussy, right where you need him, but then he goes to your other thigh and sucks a mark into your skin there. You throw your legs over his shoulders, and he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sassy yet emotionless look of his.

“Impatient, are we?” Jonathan asks, hovering his lips right over you as his breath hits the sensitive, wet skin.

“Very,” you drawl, glaring at him playfully, “I’ve waited six months for you to eat me out, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Jonathan says, his eyes carefully taking in your anatomy, “I want to make it well worth it, dear.”

You reach down and rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his head closer to you. Jonathan wordlessly attacks your folds, licking intense stripes up and down your slit. He’ll circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before flicking it back and forth on the bundle of nerves, causing you to entangle your fingers deeper into his hair. Jonathan then takes both hands and spreads you open, flattening his tongue and shaking his head vigorously as he laps at you like a thirsting man.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, thrusting into his face.

Jonathan sneaks a finger into your entrance, curling it against the spongy spot he finds inside you. He strokes it teasingly to the same rhythm of his tongue against your clit. You clamp your thighs against the sides of Jonathan’s head, essentially trapping him. He slips another finger into you, slamming them in and out of you as the sound of your arousal bounces off the walls.

“That feel good, baby?” Jonathan hums, his mouth pulling away from you despite your thighs, his darkened blue eyes boring into yours.

“Mhmm,” you nod, rocking your hips onto his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Jonathan gasps, thrusting them faster and harder into you as his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, pressing into it.

You’re so close that you can already feel the knot in your stomach about to come undone. Your hand finds Jonathan’s cheek, caressing it as his eyes meet yours again. You arch your back close to your peak. But then, Jonathan pulls his fingers from you, tucking them into his mouth as you glare at him. He just chuckles darkly at you before grabbing you by the throat.

“Open your mouth,” he demands.

You obey, Jonathan’s grip on your neck dizzying you. He gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before spitting it into yours, forcing your mouth closed.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” Jonathan says, holding his hand around your throat once more.

You taste yourself on your tongue, swallowing the spit as you were told.

Jonathan’s hand travels to your face as his thumb pulls your mouth open so he can thoroughly inspect it, “Perfect.”

He sits up, spreading your legs further open so he can line himself up with your begging entrance. Gathering some of the wetness there, Jonathan pushes himself into you slowly. Your hand flies to his shoulder blades, your nails digging into his pale skin. Finally, Jonathan fills you up completely, his hips flush against yours. You throw your head back at the feeling of fullness, the sting of the stretch turning into pleasure.

“God, Jonathan,” you move your hips a little, “You feel amazing.”

“You’re so tight it’s almost ridiculous,” Jonathan dryly jokes, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls all the way out, then slams back into you.

“Fuck,” you seethe, and one of Jonathan’s hands find their way back to your throat.

He repeats his motion, pulling his hips back then snapping them forward again, gaining a steady pace. You’re a moaning mess as he quickens his rhythm. Jonathan’s face is leant down to your ear as he grunts into it. The headboard begins to slam into the wall behind you, but neither of you care about the dent it’ll probably leave in the drywall.

“Jonathan,” you drawl out in a high pitched cry, his cock hitting your cervix just right.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to destroy you like this,” Jonathan says in between his groans, “I love seeing you fall apart underneath me.”

Your eyes screw shut, rolling into the back of your head as he fucks you hard and fast, sure enough to leave you sore tomorrow. The sound and smell of sex fills the room as sweat beads on your forehead. You’re moving your hips at the same time as Jonathan, matching his quick and harsh thrusts. He’s hitting every spot within you just right, the shaft of his cock rubbing your clit perfectly every time he pushes it into you. You start seeing stars behind your eyes from the pressure his fingers are putting on your throat and the building orgasm in your stomach.

“God, I wanna cum,” you scream, “Please make me cum,” you’re nearly begging incoherently now.

“Fuck, that’s right, beg me. Show me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck your witty little brains out,” Jonathan says behind gritted teeth, his own orgasm peeking over the horizon.

You start babbling and repeating, “Please,” like a mantra until Jonathan hits a spot within you that causes the stars behind your eyes to explode with white light. You feel yourself gush around him as his thrusts become sloppy, your clenching sending him over the edge. Jonathan spills into you as you both ride out your orgasms, whispering each other’s names weakly.

Jonathan runs a hand over his hair, sitting back as he catches his breath and pulls himself out of you. Your chest heaves as you feel the mixture of your cum and Jonathan’s cum seep from you.

“That was amazing,” you sigh, melting into the mattress.

Jonathan lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest, “We can clean up later. For now, just rest a moment.”

After a brief moment of silence, you finally ask the begging question.

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I was nervous,” Jonathan confesses, “I haven’t let anyone in, in a long time. And I’ve finally let you in enough for you to experience this part of me.”

“I see,” you say, curling your arms around his that are crossed over your breasts.

“Was the wait worth it?” Jonathan asks, burying his face into your neck.

“I think one more round will make it even.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #batman begins #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader smut #oppenheimer #oppenheimer 2023 #floralcyanide writes

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jimmy-dipthong · 5 months

Text

Fake-tanuki soup or Fake tanuki-soup?

連濁（れんだく; en: rendaku）is a phonological rule in japanese that makes the first voiceless consonant of a word change into a voiced consonant when used in a compound word. For example, おり＋かみ → おりがみ (ori + kami → origami) ("fold" + "paper" → "paperfolding") - the /k/ sound in かみ becomes a /g/ sound (which is the voiced version of a /k/ sound) by adding a voicing mark -> が.

What’s interesting about 連濁 is that native speakers can use it subconsciously as a sort of “order of operations” system for unfamiliar words, like PEMDAS or BIDMAS in maths. A classic example of this is the にせたぬきじる problem[1]. Native speakers can immediately and with confidence tell the difference in meaning between two compound words they have never heard before, despite the only difference being the voicing of a single consonant. Take the three words 偽 (にせ, meaning “fake” or “imitation”), たぬき (tanuki, the Japanese racoon dog), and 汁 (しる, meaning “soup” or “broth”). They can be combined into the following compound words: にせたぬきじる and にせだぬきじる (note the voicing mark, or dakuten, on the latter). Keep in mind, these two words do not exist in ordinary japanese - they’ve been created as part of a linguistics experiment.

You might think the meaning would be ambiguous in those compound words: is it (imitation tanuki)+soup or imitation+(tanuki soup)? Let’s imagine we’re referring to the former. First, we combine にせ＋たぬき. There’s a rule that rendaku can’t occur if there’s already a voicing mark in the second component of the compound, but we’re safe here - たぬき has no voicing mark. Therefore, it becomes にせだぬき. Then, we combine にせだぬき＋しる. Again, しる has no voicing mark in it, so we’re safe to add it in, and we get にせだぬきじる.

Conversely, let’s say we were referring to fake “tanuki-soup”. First we combine たぬき＋しる. This combines safely to たぬきじる. Then we combine にせ＋たぬきじる. But wait, the second component does already have a voicing mark, on じ! So we can’t add one to た. Therefore we end up with にせたぬきじる.

That’s a lot of thinking and linguistic hoops to jump through to make up 2 words, but here’s the thing: Japanese native speakers who have never heard these words before can instinctively deduce the difference in meaning with startling accuracy. They correctly determine the meaning of にせだぬきじる as “a broth made from imitation tanuki” and にせたぬきじる as “a fake version of a dish called ‘tanuki soup’”. Even more surprising is the research findings of Shigeto Kawahara, which show that children as young as 9 years old can consistently deduce the difference as well[2]. I think this shows how incredibly powerful the subconscious mind is at learning linguistic rules, and how bad the conscious mind is at learning them!

#langblr #japanese #japanese language #language acquisition #language learning #language #linguistics #learning japanese #日本語 #jimmy blogthong

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 2 months

Text

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

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You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

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What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

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sungbeam · 1 month

Text

yours, mine, & everything in between

kim hongjoong x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

0.7k words, fluff, est. relationship au, one kiss, darling petname used — some things hongjoong thinks about when he's finally home (in your arms).

a/n: im trying to figure out if i like the normal text as the title ,,, anyways, sorry this one's so short T-T

Kim Hongjoong fought to keep his eyes awake. The light flooding into the darkened bedroom from the en suite bathroom helped him force his eyes open, but it was all to watch with warm tenderness the view before him.

Your back was to him as you sat at the vanity mirror you both shared in the bathroom, a low hum flowing from your lips like a siren song. An old shirt of his hung off your frame, the collar stretched and warped from thorough usage and wear, the light teal color faded.

He couldn't remember when it happened—when this image had become the thing he associated with the word home.

Although a workaholic, he could never compare an all nighter to sleeping by your side, to watching yourself unwind and disassemble your carefully crafted walls to be with him. You could be bare with him in a way that didn't mean physically. And in his drowsy state, the light from the bathroom haloed around you to make you look even more divine.

How'd he get so lucky?

When you finally finished your nightly routine, you quietly stood from the vanity stool and closed the bathroom lights. Your footsteps were light as you padded across the bedroom floor to slowly sink down onto the bed beside him.

Eyes not yet adjusted to the dark, Hongjoong let his eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your fingers caressing his cheek. “You should be sleeping,” you whispered to him as he leaned into your touch.

He hummed, taking your hand to pull you under the covers with him to wrap you up in his embrace. “Not without you,” he murmured into the familiar scent clinging to your skin.

Something like contentment settled in the pit of his stomach when he realized why the smell was so familiar. It was the notes of sandalwood and bergamot—the body wash he'd been using since college. You smelled like him.

He felt your nose nudge at his pulse, his heartbeat steady and calm and comforted. “Mmm, so this is where all my body wash has gone,” you mused lowly after recognizing the familiar smells of your own soap lingering on his pretty neck and collarbone.

Hongjoong gave you a sleepy smile in the dark. “I couldn't help myself,” he admitted with a bite of his lip. “You used my body wash though. An eye for an eye.”

“So you're saying that if I stole a kiss, you would steal one back?”

A chuckle fell from his lips; his pulse leaped against your mouth. “Now where is this coming from, darling?”

“'m just saying what's on my mind, Joong,” you teased.

He slowly rolled your entwined bodies over so he could hover above you, hands bracketed around your head as he gazed down at you with an amount of love that could not be mistaken for anything else in the world. You didn't need any light in this room to know how much of it was here and all yours.

“I'm going to steal that kiss back now,” he murmured, his voice low, mouth practically already lowered over your own.

You would let him steal that kiss from you, just as you'd let him walk right into your ribcage to steal your heart, too. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours.

Hongjoong pressed his lips to yours, gentle and soft. There was no rush to his movements that were languid and drawn—you and he had all the time in the world like this. It didn't matter that he had a long day; all that mattered was that he could be with you at the end of it.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. He stayed where your breaths could be shared and your noses could still nudge the other, where he could still smell himself on you and wonder if the sandalwood and bergamot would linger long enough for you to wear him to work the next day.

Exhaustion wore at his bones and he settled over top of your body with his face tucked into the crook of your neck, a perfect fit. “This is nice,” he sighed as his arms wrapped around you once more, legs entangled between the sheets.

Your hand was gentle as it carded through his hair. “It is,” you murmured. “I'm happy you're home.”

His heart gave a leap of emotion in his chest, his eyes falling closed. “Me too.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @atzhouse

#atzhouse #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez oneshot #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong drabble

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pelova4president · 3 months

Text

Magic Euros II

Leah Williamson x Wife!Reader

Magic Euros I

summary~ Your kids are absolute menaces, but how could they not, they’re Williamson’s and are around your wife’s crazy teammates all the time.

Your kids are little monsters and there is nothing you could do about it. James seemed to be pretty sweet and shy but how older he got the more he acted like his naughty aunties. Alice really wasn’t any good from the moment she was born. Your daughter was just as naughty as Katie, Vic and Kyra. They tried to involve Alice in all their pranks in the hopes that no one would blame them but instead the innocent two year old.

There were times their plan would work and your daughter got put in time-out or nothing would happen because ‘you got no proof’. But other times, like when they had Alice to hide Lessi’s shoes, she told on them after you threatened to take the toddlers iPad away. “Alice! Why’d you have to tell on us?” Victoria crouched down to your daughter. “B-but iPad” the girl defended herself. You laughed at that and Kyra rolled her eyes annoyed. “Why did you bring an iPad addict into the world?” the Aussie sighed.

And while Alice was influenced by the bad kids, James loved his sweet auntie Lotte. They had a very special and cute bond. Lotte loved to babysit him whenever you had to make time for Alice’s swimming lessons. He always came back from Lotte’s house with so much to tell but is so tired he always falls asleep halfway through his story. The boy wanted to be just like her. He tried to play footie like her, wanted to cook like her and he even started to dress like her.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

Beth and Viv loved to babysit them. They took the kids to all kinds of playgrounds and their dogs, Myle and Rona are their favourite. Myle was still very hyper and the mini Leah’s are too so they’d both end up asleep after a very busy day. Almost always James and Alice and up in Myle’s bed with Myle’s on the ground next to them.

Jamie and Al loved to watch their mummy play footie in the summer, the winter was less fun. You went to games as that is your job, you needed to be up to date and what better way to do that watching your wife play live. Taking the toddlers with you, you sat in the friends and family section. The kids were good almost the whole game. Well that was until it starting pouring down. The London weather decided to show up and everyone got absolutely soaked.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

When the girls had to play friendlies in Portugal you took the kids with you. You would have a little vacation and free babysitters, why wouldn’t you go.

The flight to the sunny Portugal was hectic though. Arriving at the airport, James was asleep but the hyper girl you had in your arms definitely wasn’t. “Calm down Al, you’ll see your aunties in a bit.” Leah tried to calm her down but that only mad her more hyper. “Where’s auntie Vicky! And Kyky oh- and Katie and and Lessi?” she tried to wiggle her way out of your grasp. You put her on the ground and she ran around in search for the Arsenal girls.

“We should’ve just bought her that kidsbelt, that way she wouldn’t be running around like this.” Leah sighed already regretting the decision to bring the kids.

“Mommy, Mama! KyKy’s here!” you heard your little girl scream through the airport. “That’s awesome sweetie, can you find the others too?” you asked her, trying to distract her with something.

After a few minutes of Alice running around the airport in the hopes of getting her tired for the flight, she found the rest of the team. “Mama look! Auntie Vicky’s here too!” she dragged you to the Dutchie. “Oh god help me Vic, ze is al de hele dag zo en ze wordt maar niet moe” (Oh god help me Vic, she has been like this the whole day and she isn’t getting tired.) you hugged your friend. Vicky laughed at your tired state, “Dat had ik niet gedacht, je ziet er zo energiek uit!” (I wouldn’t of thought, you look so energetic!) she said sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her and sighed.

You walked over to your wife and sleeping son. “Leah, i don’t know why we thought this was a good idea, Alice is already being a menace to society. Think of what she can do when she’s with those other devils for more than a few hours.” you whisper to her.

Lotte came walking over to the two of you. “How are the little monsters doing?” she asked looking at Alice who was being thrown into the air by Kyra. “Well one of the two is sleeping like an angel and the other is… well, not.” Leah told her. James woke up hearing his favourite auntie. “Lotte!” he said tiredly, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey grote jongen, you’re awake.” she took him out of the arms of your wife.

You tried to learn the kids some Dutch but that was hard since they were so young and they almost only spoke English. Vic, Viv and Lotte had tried to learn the kids some but it didn’t really stick. The only thing they really remembered was ‘stomkop’ which means stupid so it wasn’t really in your favour.

Walking into the plane, without kids since they chose their aunties over you and their other mom, you sat next to Leah. Kyra and Alice sat in front of you and Lotte and James next to you. You were not even off the ground when you heard the duo in front of you and your wife snore.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

When the team finally landed both of your kids were awake. Leah took the suitcases and bags to the teambus and you kept your eyes on the kids. Vic placed Al on her big suitcase and rolled the toddler to the parking lot. She was trying to teach her some Dutch but her effort was futile. “So kleine, say ‘ik hou meer van tante Vic dan van mijn mama’s’” (So little one, say ‘i love auntie Vic more than my mommy’s’) the midfielder tried. But the only thing coming out of the toddlers mouth was some gibberish.

A blonde forward approached the girls, “You’ve had her for a while now, she needs some quality time with her favourite auntie now.” Alessia grabbed to girl from Victoria’s suitcase. “You love auntie Lessi more right Ali?” Alessia said tickling your daughter.

Walking into the bus the naughty toddler took Alessia’s Prada glasses and put them on. “Look! I’m auntie Less!” she said posing like Alessia. Katie looked over and began laughing. “She really does look like you now, face all serious. Alice you look just like grumpy Lessi!” the Irish woman commented.

alessiarusso99 posted on their story

Lina arrived later with her daughter Lo. Your kids loved to play together and try to trick Katie. Lo would tell Katie to walk her to the bathroom, where Alice and James would wait for her. “What can i help you with kid?” Katie asked the mini Lina. They would open the door and your kids attacked her. They threw water on her and the three of them ran away together.

“Lina Lina! Katie’s mad!” James ran towards the Swede. Lina would fake her confusion, “Why would Katie be angry pojke?”. The three kids looked at eachother, Alice pointed to Lo who had to explain everything.

Katie came running into the room with three buckets of water. “I’m gonna get ya!” she yelled chasing the screaming toddlers.

stinablackstenius posted on their story

leahwilliamsonn

liked by daniellevddonk and 318.827 others

chillin’ it out

comments

jillroord coolest kids out there 😎

lucybronze i’ll take the kids to the chillest place, next week they’re coming to barca

↳ keirawalsh i back that

lottewubbenmoy Jamie boy with the coolest sunnies

kyracooneyx yeahh the weirdooss

↳ victoriapelova you’re the biggest weirdo

alessiarusso99 ali looks too cute!!

↳ y/nwilliamson you out her in that dress and did her hair, how could she not

barcafemfam i love the arsenal family smm

W0s012 they’re literally mini Leah’s and y/n’s

When you got back from Portugal you went to dinner with your parents and Leah’s since they were in London for a few days. You had to leave the kids with Beth and Viv for the night but they didn’t mind, they loved kids.

Alice played with Myle and got her to play dead, well the toddler had to push her down to get her to play dead but it kind of worked. “Piew!” Alice yelled with her pistol fingers pointing at the puppy. “Myleee! You need to play dead! Lie downnn” she complained. The dog however had other plans and sprung on the little girl and started licking her face. “Bad doggy!” she giggled pushing Myle down on the couch and trying again. “Piew!” she yelled. Myle didn’t move a muscle so she just pushed the puppy down.

Viv saw the whole scene play out in front of her and laughed, having filmed the whole thing.

And while all of that was going on, James was vacuuming the couple’s house. “What’re you doing little guy?” Beth asked the boy. “Cleaning Auntie Viv and yours house!” he said excited. The vacuum wasn’t on but Beth didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “So sweet of you. Hard workers deserve a snack break right?” Beth ruffled his hair and placed a cookie in his hands.

viviannemiedema posted on their story

Keira and Lucy kept their promise and invited you, Leah and the kids to Barcelona. Keira drove to the airport to pick you up. Alice and James attacked Keira immediately. “Oh my god! Al, Jamie please, Auntie Kei still needs to drive us.” Leah took the kids off her bestfriend. “Well hello to you too.” the midfielder laughed.

Lucy awaited you at their door. “Lucy!” the kids yelled, running out of the car and into the defender’s arms. “Hey monsters!” she hugged them. “Silly Lucy, i’m not a monster.” James laughed at his auntie.

The kids got to see the Barcelona training ground and even got to watch a game. Ingrid and Mapi, who they already knew, were waiting for the kids. The kids ran onto the field and into the arms of the Barcelona couple. “We’ve missed you so much!” Ingrid yelled, picking both kids up and squeezing them. Mapi spun James around and played goalie when Alice was taking penalties. “You’re too good niña!” Mapi said picking your daughter up and placing her on her back and running around the field.

Leah and you always enjoy your time in Barcelona, the people there were like family and the city was beautiful. The weather was nice, well it mostly was and if it was raining it would clear up quickly.

Lucy and Keira made forts with the kids, danced with them in the rain, even though you said they shouldn’t because they’d get sick. And Lucy got James to hug a tree. “Trees deserve love too Jamie. It’s mean to kick them. You don’t like it when someone kicks you, go give the tree a hug.” the dark haired woman said after catching James kicking a tree in the park. “I’ll say sorry to the tree.” James said and ran through the park, giving the biggest hug as an apology. Lucy giggled at the scene in front of her. James really had a good heart and he did look like Lotte, like a lot.

lucybronze, keirawalsh

liked by aitanabonmati and 291.826 others

fun days with these kids

comments

lauren_hemp why is Jamie hugging a tree

ingrid_engen those samba’s are the cutest!

↳ marialeonn16 you bought them

↳ ingrid_engen they’re still cute though

victoriapelova why can they dance in the rain but i can’t?

↳ kyracooneyx yeah actually this is unfair

lj10 the coolest kids 😎

↳ lucybronze cooler than me?

↳ lj10 just a little bit

Coming back from the sunny Barcelona it was time for Alice’s first football training. James wasn’t really interested in football, only when auntie Lotte was playing. Alice loved to kick a ball around, she needed something to release all her energy.

Leah had been beyond excited to get her to play footie. They picked the shoes out together and bought her training kit. “You like these boots Ali?” Leah asked, picking out the shoes she liked the most. Alice just nodded. She wasn’t really interested in the boots, looking at the poster of one of her aunties in the store. “Look mummy, that’s auntie Lessi!” she pointed at the big poster next to the Adidas boots. “I want the same boots as Lessi!” the little girl insisted.

“Alice, that’s the wrong section. Look over here, you like these pink ones?” Leah said pointing towards the Nike boots. “No mummy! I want Lessi boots.” she stomped.

And that’s how your daughter came home with shiny silver Adidas boots.

Leah drove her to training, standing next to the field and watching your daughter play with other girls her age. Leah would never say it but seeing her little girl play football made her emotional. Alice was happy, making friends and even scoring. “She’s supposed to be a defender.” Leah sighed, hugging you from behind. “She’s an adidas girl and a striker but she plays football.” you said looking at your wife and kissing her on the lips. “You’re right, she’s a footballer.” Leah hummed.

leahwilliamsonn posted on their story

A/N not my best but i pulled through. I still have writers block though :(

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #victoria pelova #jill roord #engwnt #nedwnt #arsenal wfc #vivianne miedema #beth mead #kyra cooney cross #alessia russo

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maxsimagination · 3 months

Text

𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲- 𝗮.𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘀

warnings: smut. based in 2021.

18+ under the cut

-----

ballon d'or.

the highest honour in the world of football.

the awards ceremony was being held tonight, and the highest names in the leagues were going to be there - male and female. i was over the moon that i had been nominated, i would have been happy with just an invitation to view the celebration.

nominated from the barcelona women's team there was me, alexia, jenni, irene and sandra. mapi was also attending but she hadn't been nominated, only invited.

i had a gut feeling that i hadn't come first, normally the winners were made aware at least 10 hours before the actual ceremony. since i hadn't heard anything and we were en route to the venue, it was my natural assumption.

the girls were all chatting in the limousine that the barcelona staff had hired out. i was sat next to mapi and irene. the latter was talking my ear off about how cool the night is going to be, even if none of us won.

i was by far one the youngest players to be nominated this year, only 20 years old, but turning 21 in the next couple of months.

we pulled up to the event just then, and all six of us exited the car, following the men in suits that guided us. one by one, we all walked onto the red carpet, had a couple of pictures taken, along with a group one of everyone form barcelona femeni. finally the photos were over with and we could head inside to sit down.

the crowd that was already sitting in the massive ceremony hall was insane. most of the left side was already filled up and the right side had a couple of people lingering around it. we took our seats and i let out a sigh of relief. it wasn't that i didn't like these things, i just hated the heels i was wearing.

"you okay, chica?"

i heard a voice i knew to be alexia's from my left and i turned to her with a tired smile.

"sí, just tired. and my feet hurt."

she laughed at that, patting my clothed thigh.

"i can give you a massage when we get home, cariño."

she squeezed my thigh as she whispered in my ear, her voice turning gravelly. it was insanely hot.

"ale..."

my voice held a warning; we were in public and on live tv, she shouldn't do this here.

"y/n... you know i love that dress on you."

i was wearing a plain black dress but it was halter neck with a low back and two slits, one on each leg. i blushed hard at her words, feeling the shivers travel through my body.

finally the ceremony got underway, all the long-winded speeches and guest speakers.

it felt like a million years had passed before the actual awards were being held up. the men's awards came first, of course, then the women's. all the nominees were told to stand and wait backstage so they could all walk out on stage when they were called.

that meant all of our group but mapi had to get up. i gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before getting up and walking off.

alexia was behind me the entire time, and when we were safely out of eyesight, i felt her hand on the small of my back, dangerously close to slipping under the fabric. and she did, her fingers dipped under the waistband to latch onto the minuscule thong i had worn underneath the dress.

"oh, bebita... so naughty."

she leant down and whispered in my ear. i tensed up before one of the backstage directors called out for all of us women to get into the directed positions. that meant alexia and i had to split up.

when our names were called out we walk out. the nerves were still buzzing around inside me, and it got worse when i didn't hear my name called for the first few people.

i had almost automatically assumed i'd be near the bottom, being so young and what some would called 'inexperienced'. so you can imagine my surprise when i was called as 4th overall. my jaw dropped to the floor for a split second before i remembered to walk out.

then when all the other players were called as well, the hosts called a guest speaker to announce the winner.

"and the winner of the ballon d'or feminin 2021 is... alexia putellas!" cheers erupted throughout the hall and i had the largest smile on my face as alexia walked out to collect the award. she thanked the speaker before turning to the crowd and holding up the golden ball for everyone to see.

alexia putellas, my teammate, my captain, my girlfriend, had won the ballon d'or.

——

it was almost half past ten when we arrived home after the ceremony. choosing to forgo the barcelona 'after party', alexia drove us straight to her apartment. the car ride was silent but in a comfortable way. i knew she wouldn't let me off the hook for the thong i'd worn tonight, so i was waiting until she said something.

when we got in the door, she walked straight to the bedroom, clearly expecting me to follow her. i quickly took my heels off and followed her. the second i stepped in the door, she was on me. her lips on mine, and her hands travelling to my ass.

"you have no clue what you do to me."

she breathed out heavily when we broke apart. i was just as breathless, my cheeks flushed red.

"ale, please."

she smirked before unzipping her dress, and telling me to take mine off too. i unclipped mine and let it fall to the floor. the moment i turned around i was in for a surprise.

alexia had somehow taken both her dress and underwear off in record time, and was standing facing me while securing our favourite strap. my eyes widened and i could myself getting more excited. alexia moved to the bed and laid down.

"let's warm you up, yea? you're gonna sit on my face."

i crawled up to her where her head was and swung my leg over. i sunk down on her and her mouth immediately latched onto my clit. i moaned at the contact, falling forward and having to steady myself with a hand on the headboard.

her mouth was working wonders, licking, sucking, biting, and bringing me closer and closer to my first orgasm of the night.

"ale, ale i'm close."

she didn't falter in her ministrations, just kept working her tongue on my clit. and just like that i fell over the edge, spasming and letting go all over alexia's face.

she licked one last stripe from my pulsing hole to my swollen clit before lifting me off her face and switching us.

"gonna need you on your knees, bebita."

i had an idea of where this was going and i was scrambling to get into position. alexia was stood behind me, her hand resting on my waist while i waited patiently. suddenly i felt the tip of her strap slide through my folds, before pushing into me. she took it slowly, letting me adjust to the size and setting a steady pace.

it was a delicious feeling, the way her cock slid in and out, filling me up before pulling out, only to push back in again. i let out a moan, and pushed my ass back to meet alexia's thrusts.

"needy girl, are you?"

"need it faster, please capitana."

the rank slipped out of my mouth without a thought. i could feel alexia's hand tighten her grip on my waist before her thrusts quickened.

i arched my back so my chest and face were resting on the bed and my ass was pushed up, on full display. still pushing back to meet alexia's thrusts again. my hand trailed down to my clit, desperate for some sort of friction. i was so close, i could feel it.

i started rubbing on the bundle of nerves harder, faster. my hole was clenching around alexia's cock faster now, i was right on the edge.

"ale, capitana, please. can i cum?"

"yes bebita, cum for me. cum all over my cock."

that was all the time i needed as i let go for the second time that night, dripping all over alexia's strap. alexia slowed down her thrusts and fucked me through my orgasm, then slowly pulling out and discarding the strap somewhere so she could clean up later.

"are you okay, cariño?"

i nodded, eyes closed, just soaking in the fucked-out bliss i was in.

"words, y/n."

alexia chuckled.

"that was the best sex ever."

i breathed out with a smile, opening my eyes and looking up into alexia's green orbs.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso smut #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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