#Price being the only one in the end after the whole thing is a very memorable scene for me despite skipping a lot of the middle part

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 6 (The End)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: Happy Holidays! Better late than never, right?

If there was a truth universally acknowledged in the Red Bull Garage, then it was this: You didn’t upset Ariel Cane without paying the price. And the price to pay was dealing with an absolutely furious Max Verstappen. 

(Actually they had put that in the inoffical onboarding document a few years ago that every newbie was handed on their first day… After that one stupid strategist had thought that making an inappropriate comment to Ariel was the thing to do. The fallout of that had not been…pretty.)

Everybody knew this. Everybody kept to that truth. It wasn’t about disagreements about work. Ariel was more than capable to eal with that. It was about her being treated with actual respect an not like her whole reason to being there was for her to fetch Max’s coffee. 

Everybody knew that rule. Everybody kept to that rule, if they knew what was good for them. 

Unless you were Jos Verstappen. 

Jos Verstappen clearly thought he was above treating Ariel with a modicum of respect. Jos Verstappen was a fucking idiot. 

GP had half a mind to deck Jos himself, for daring to put his hands on Ariel.

Actually he would have probably done that. If he hadn’t also had Max on the radio in the middle of the race.

That was the one thing that stopped him from physically intervening. The race was his priority. 

GP knew that Max was going to loose his fucking mind over the fact that they lied to him. And quite frankly, he had ever right to it. 

At least, GP got to watch Connor drag Jos Verstappen away from Ariel by the scruff of his neck. Only after the damage was already done…but it was something. 

Something. 

Jos, predictably, didn’t look very pleased to be bodily removed.

"Let go of me!" he shouted, but his protests were in vain. Connor’s grip was firm and unwavering, his own anger etched on his face. Jos had clearly crossed the line.

Which also more than made Christian’s reaction to all of this more than reasonable.

Still, none of this suddenly erased what had happened. None of this fucking fixed the fact that Jos Verstappen had dared to slap Ariel across her face. 

The rest of the race passed by in a blur, GP keeping his focus solely on Max and the race. Max’s voice in his ear was the only constant, a reassuring presence during the chaos.

 When the checkered flag fell, though, the tension of the race was joined by the tension of the impending drama. The radio went silent, the moment before they was all dreading.

Quite frankly… GP had expected worse.

Max let himself be reasoned with. To an extent. 

He also didn’t bite off the head of any journalist even when it was clear that he wanted to…

To his credit, Max showed remarkable restraint. He was clearly seething with anger, his expression tight and his hands clenched into fists, but he somehow managed to hold himself back. 

GP could see the storm brewing just below the surface, but Max somehow kept it together.

Even when the journalists clearly wanted to get a rise out of him, asking about the confrontation with his father and with Ariel, Max managed to stay (relatively) composed.

He kept his answers short and clipped, his jaw clenched shut as he did his best to keep his temper in check.   

Max's responses were sharp, and it was impossible missed his obvious disdain for the question. He answered curtly, his body taut with tension. GP winced every time Max opened his mouth, knowing the press was going eat up the sound bites.

Still, all of them breathed a sign of relief when Max disappeared into his driver room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving everyone else in a silent daze.

There was to hope that Ariel would be able to work her increible magic…somehow talk him away from the brink. 

GP just hoped that everything that ha happene in the Garage that day wasn’t going to destroy Max an Ariel’s friendship.  

The fallout of that particular scenario would be catastrophic. 

He wasn’t the only one who was thinking that, he was quite sure. 

30 minutes later, Max showed up again, to take his trophy home. 

And to the shock and surprise of everybody...he was calm.

Max, who had stormed off in anger only half an hour ago, returned to the public eye with an almost eerie calm. His expression was neutral, his body language relaxed, as he accepted his trophy.

The contrast between the fiery, angry Max from before and this almost eerily calm version of him was jarring.

Whatever Ariel had said to him… Whatever it was, it had been effective. 

GP could see the change in Max. The anger and tension from before were gone, replaced instead by that…calm. The tension having bled out of his body, his fists no longer clenched. 

God bless Ariel and her innate ability to stop furious blonde dutch racing drivers to go down the warpath. 

She was the only one that had this effect on Max. Regardless of whatever other shitty thing was going on, when Ariel was there as well, then Max would manage to hold it together. 

Sadly, GP had given up years ago that the two of them would ever actually admit the feelings that they clearly had for each other...but…there was that hopeless romantic somewhere deep inside him that hoped that one day the two of them would realise how absolutely perfect they were for each other. 

After the trophy, Max and Ariel disappeared back to their hotel room (GP didn't believe for one second that it wouln't end with Ariel curled up in Max's room, because he could be worth than a fussy mother hen…) and GP decided that he needed a bloody drink. 

So he ended up dragging Connor to the hotel bar and buying him a drink because that was clearly the least he owed him.

They weren't alone. Hannah, their strategist joined them as well, for a bit of a...gossip session.

And the topic, of course, was the usual. Max and Ariel. The two of them were always a source of intrigue an speculation within the Red Bull Team and today’s events ha only aed more fuel to the fire. 

"I am not definitely not envying Gemma right now," Hannah said with a snort as she sipped her cocktail. "She’s supposed to get Max to give out a statement. How high are the chances he’ll even talk to her?"

GP chuckled at that. "I'm sure she'll manage," he said, although he did not envy the publicist's job either. Max could be a handful even at the best of times, and today he would be… particularly uncooperative.

Not that anybody would fault him for that. 

Connor took a large swig of his drink. "Poor Gemma," he sai with a sigh. "She has her work cut out for her."

Connor was texting, his phone not stopping vibrating and he sighed.

"Who is it?" GP wondered.

"Who do you think?" Connor gave back drily. "Percy.”

Ah. Ariel’s brother. 

“That was quick,” GP said drily. Word had gotten out fast. 

“Sky has the whole thing on video,” Hannah said with a grimace. “I am surprised it took this long. Besides…the entire garage has been buzzing.”

GP sighed, taking a sip of his own drink. “Of course it did,” he said. “This team loves their gossip.”

"I didn't think Cane was actually going to care though," Hannah said carefully. “He has never seen…particular…” Hannah was clearly struggling for words. 

GP sighed. In the near ecae that he knew Percy Cane now, his opinion about Ariel’s brother had changed drastically. From “asshole who in’t actually care about his sisters” to “emotionally stunted genius who loved them very much, was absolutely horrible at showing it, but was actually a great guy once he stopped talking in riddles”. 

It took a while to look behind the facade. Percy Cane ruled over the electrical engineering epartment with an iron fist, didn’t accept anything but the best from the people who worked for him…but was also the first one who woul defend any of them if they had done nothing wrong. 

“He’s actually a nice guy, once you get to know him better,” GP said pointedly. “And Ariel is his little sister. He may not always shows that…” (or at least not in any way considered normal…) "But both of his sisters are very important to him."

“Percy can be…difficult,” Connor agreed drily. “But he is really, really fun once you get to know him. And he is also very protective over Ariel and Emma,” Connor acknowledged. "I've seen Percy in full big brother mode, and it's not something I'd like to experience myself. I am pretty sure he is going to destroy Jos Verstappen's whole life," Connor said drily."Not that I am going to stop him."

Hannah snorted, taking a sip of her drink. "None of us would," she said. "He can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be."

"I would not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath," GP added with a grimace. "Remember the one time that engineer spilled coffee all over his tablet?" he asked with a snort. "How long did all his emails come back as undelivered again?"

Hannah chuckled at the memory, a grin on her face. "Two weeks," she supplied with a snort. "So is he going to do the same thing to him?"

"He did that over a piece of tech. This is Ariel," Connor responded drily. "His revenge will be much worse."

"I need a drink," Gemma said at that exact moment as she slid into the seat next to GP. "Right about now."

"Well, looks like you came to the right place," GP replied with a smirk, gesturing to the drinks already on the table. "What do you want? It's on me."

Gemma reached for the bottle of tequila. “Apparently we need to celebrate.”

Hannah chuckled, "What exactly are we celebrating?" she asked curiously. 

Hannah wasn’t the only one who was wondering that. GP did too. 

"The end of a half a decade of stalemate," Gemma said drily after knocking back her drink. "Guess who finally figured things out?"

GP just stared at her. "No."

"Oh yes," Gemma agreed with a smirk. "4 hours ago, and it's as serious as it can be."

GP's eyes widened as Gemma spoke. "You're kidding," he said, his disbelief evident in his tone

Connor and Hannah simply looked at each other, their mouths slightly agape.

"No way," Connor finally said, shaking his head. "They actually stopped dancing around each other?"

Gemma nodded, a wide grin on her lips. "Oh, it's true," she said, taking another swig of her drink."They've finally stopped being idiots."

GP could only stare at her, still somewhat in awe. "This is...unbelievable," he said finally. "I honestly thought they'd never figure it out."

He had thought that the whole Max and Ariel thing was going to end in the worst kind of heartbreak to be completely honest. 

Hannah huffed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on her face. "About bloody time," she said bluntly. "I was starting to go grey over here, waiting for them to finally get their act together!"

"Tell me about it," GP agreed, rubbing the back of his head. "It's been obvious how they feel about each other for years now. But they were so damn stubborn about actually acting on it."

Connor snorted, taking another swig of his beer. "You're preaching to the choir," he said wryly. "I've been ready to lock them in a room together for about five years now."

"Don't think Percy would have approved of that," GP pointed out with a smirk, and Connor chuckled.

"He's going to lose his mind," Connor said with a shake of his head. "The two of them...in a relationship. It's going to be an interesting time, that's for sure."

Connor's phone pinged again. He just sighed.

"Is he losing his mind already?" GP asked with a laugh.

Connor's face was a mixture of amusement and resignation as he glanced at his phone. "Yes," he replied simply. "Apparently Percy has written a whole 40 pages pdf document, which is his version of a shovel talk, so now he wants me to give him Max’s email address."

The table burst into laughter, the tension of the day finally easing into a lighthearted mood.

"A pdf document," GP repeated, almost unable to wrap his head around that. "Seriously?"

"With footnotes and all," Connor confirmed, a hint of amusement in his voice despite his words.

Hannah let out a bark of laughter. "Percy really knows how to go all out," she said, shaking her head with a grin.

"How many of these words aren't three syllables or more?" GP asked drily. "Maybe we should ask him to dumb it down a bit if he actually wants Max to read all of it and understand it. "

The group laughed again, with Connor snorting into his beer.

"Yeah, I don't think Percy has ever heard of the concept of dumbing it down," he said, shaking his head. "Guy is a literal genius. If anything, he's probably wondering how to use even more obscure words."

GP chuckled, raising his glass. "To Percy's incredibly thorough and undoubtedly terrifyingly effective shovel talk," he said with a grin.

The group laughed again, glasses clinking as they toasted to that.

"Here's to Max and Ariel finally getting their act together," Connor chimed in.

"It only took them five years," GP added.

"And countless missed opportunities," Hannah added with a smirk.

"Better late than never," Gemma agreed, taking a sip of her drink.

[gomzdrawfr]

how about some 09 actions? Ghost and Roach maybe? 👀

ofc ofc, anything for you all!

I can't help myself so

bonus 09 Price [content warning: MCD]

[rosiereveries]

Regency!John Price who inherited his brothers duke title, because his brother died without an heir. John was the second oldest son, and he never thought about being the successor to the title, so he chose a military career.

He was a captain who fought wars and won them, not some lord who fancied balls and dressed in fancy clothing. But now he doesn’t have a choice. John comes back home after he has been badly injured in the battle, he was shot in his leg, and he had to use a wheelchair for quite some time.

When he comes home, to the new house and staff who pities him, he doesn’t feel like a man he once was. At the first ball he must attend he can see everyone eyes on him as he stumbles with his cane. He absolutely hates it. So, he makes a plane, he has to quickly marry some girl, make an heir and go live to the countryside where everyone will leave him alone.

You were on the other hand the youngest daughter of noble family. You weren’t rich, but your sisters and brothers married well, so you could keep good family reputation. Now it was your turn to marry, and as you were introduced to the society you quickly came to the realization, that you will probably end as a wife of some old man, who could be your grandfather.

So, when your cousin Johnny mentions, that his loyal friend and mentor John Price is looking for a wife you are interested. He tells you that John is a duke now and that he wants to get married as soon as possible. From Johnnys stories you know that John is a good man, who will hopefully respect you and treat you well.

You don’t get to meet your husband till the day of the wedding. The whole engagement is short and feels very official. He writes you a letter with things that you should know about your new home and your mother and sisters help you prepare for the married life.

When you finally see your future husband standing in the church, you’re quite surprised. He is very handsome, older than you, probably in his late 30s, but you’re sure that if he waited a little, he could find a better wife that you will be. John on the other hand is smitten by you, he also doesn’t understand why you would choose to marry him.

After the ceremony you immediately leave the town. He is very quiet the whole ride to his mansion and even thought you have many questions you stay quiet too. You arrive late in the night, exhausted from the long travel, but the only thing that concerns you is the wedding night. You heard a lot of horrible stories told by maids about their first nights with their husbands. The only thing that John does is that he shows you your room, tells you which butler to call if you have any troubles and he is gone. You’re left in the huge mansion alone and confused.

The breakfast takes place in the dining room. You sit at the table so far from John that you would have to shout to get his attention. He ignores you most of the time. At first you don’t mind it, you finally have some sort of freedom, you explore the land, the house and you find a huge library with many books you want to read.

But after some time, you start to crave his attention. The maids don’t want to be your friends, they think that it is highly inappropriate, you as a couple don’t attend any balls and there is no noble lady in the near distance you could visit and be friends with.

So, you start to write a diary, you write about how you feel and how would you like your husband to actually acknowledge you. Sometimes you also mention that you find him very attractive and the romance novels that you found in the library don’t help your imagination.

One time you forget your diary in the library and John accidentally picks it up. He thinks its some book that he hasn’t read yet. When he realizes that it is your handwriting, he knows that he should put it down, it is not right to invade your privacy. But then he sees his name there and he must know what you write about him.

He reads the whole paragraphs about how your meetings in the dinning room leaves you all flustered and how you crave his attention. He didn’t think that a young girl like you could find him attractive, and he wanted to be a good husband and leave you as much freedom as you could want. He didn’t want to pressure you into any kind of intimate relationship even though he was pressured by the rest of his family to have an heir. John leaves your diary where he found it, without any evidence that he read it.

The next morning, he invites you to eat breakfast with him in the garden. It is far more intimate, and you finally have a conversation with him. He asks you questions about your hobbies, your family and if you like it here.

It finally feels like he is courting you and you leave every encounter with him with rosy cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. He invites you on walks where he holds your hand as you tell him about your day or about the new book you just left. You spend the whole days together learning about each other.  

John tells you stories about the war, the battles he fought. His leg heals up perfectly and now, that he is healthy again, he takes you with him when he goes riding. When you ask him if he likes the hight society he tells you the truth. He tells you how much he despises the formal event and the balls and suddenly it all makes sense to you.

You finally understand why he wanted to marry so quickly and why you live alone in the middle of nowhere. You tell him that you loved the dancing and the beautiful gown you could wear at balls but now you don’t mind the quiet life. Now you have him and that is all that matters.  

One evening he makes a ball just for you. He invites a musician to play, he buys you an expensive gown and you pretend that you are at some formal event. It’s just the two of you dancing, laughing and drinking expensive champaign he bought for the ball. You dance the whole night and after he walks you to your bedroom he kisses you. It is a soft kiss, just your lips barely touching, but it starts a fire in you, and you want more.

When John realizes that you’re not pulling away he deepens the kiss. He knows that you have no experiences, and he wants to show you that he will treat you well. He spends the night with you, showing you in many ways how much he loves you.

And when you finally fall asleep, he thinks how lucky he is to find a wife like you. When you wake up and you see your husband sleeping in your bad you are very grateful that you accidentally left your diary in the library open on the page that mentioned how hot he was. Such a shame you didn’t come up with the plan a little earlier.

Masterlist

[empresskylo]

call of duty ೃ⁀➷ NSFW headcanons

↳ includes: ghost, price, soap, and alejandro.

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, rough sex

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost

♡ ghost has a size kink for sure. loves being bigger/taller than you. loves towering over you. loves covering your whole body when he fucks you.

♡ he’s a growler (-: i mean, his voice is just really deep and that in combo with his accent causes him to make growling-esque noises in bed.

♡ but he was really quite quiet when you first fucked. he was used to having to be silent when he jerked off because teammates were always around somewhere. and so he didn’t even realize how quiet he was being until you said something. he was even a bit shy at first but once you showed him how much his sounds got you off, he was glad to oblige and let loose.

♡ he doesn’t like to “choke” you, but he likes to rest his hand around your neck in a firm hold allowing him to hold you steady so he can fuck you deeper.

♡ he’s rather simple. he likes a few basic positions. it gets the job done. he doesn't see the need for any wild or crazy positions when fucking you missionary, doggy style, or against a wall gets both of you off. he will do new stuff with you if you ask tho.

♡ really likes to praise you. he’s got a praise kink but only for being the praiser lol. he loves to tell you how good you feel, how pretty you look, how well you’re taking him. especially when you react to his words, fuck, he loves knowing he can do that to you.

♡ however, when you praise HIM, he gets all flustered and legit fucking blushes! my guy isn’t used to soft compliments, only ones about his combat skills. so when you say sweet things to him like how good he feels, how hot he looks, how turned on he makes you, how perfect he feels inside you, how badly you want him… he blushes. every. time.

♡ professional pussy eater. he very much enjoys going down on you, usually touching himself simultaneously. he’ll yank you to the end of the bed and wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you down. he likes when you ride his face too. he’s been known to get you off like that and make the two of you late. he moans a lot too when you ride his face. loves when you use him to get off and he can't help but moan at that.

♡ he has fucked you with the handle of his knife before and then made you lick it clean.

♡ gets a perverted sense of gratification when he sees you limping after fucking you senseless.

♡ has a breeding kink. he accidentally let it slip one day when he was fucking you, just about to come, when he moaned out in strained breaths “i need. to fucking. breed you.” (my brain: *414 error*) it doesn’t necessarily mean he wants kids, but he just loves the idea of getting you pregnant/coming inside you/breeding you.

♡ definitely a dom. but can be a sub when need be. he wasn’t sure about being submissive at first, but he’s learned to love it. he likes when you boss him around and tell him what you want. even likes it when you edge him and don’t let him finish, dragging it out painfully. but that’s only occasionally, he usually likes to be the one in control.

♡ comes the hardest when you tell him you love him as you're orgasming. he's a romantic at heart.

Price

♡ daddy kink.. i mean… com’on! he gets flustered as fuck when you call him that in public. usually, you’ll say it quietly or whisper it to him. it’s a rare sight to see Price so flustered. and he definitely punishes you when you get home. (that’s if you even make it home. as long as no one can see, he’ll fuck you anywhere)

♡ wants a video of you for when he’s away. you were shy at first so he just recorded your lower half while he was fucking you, the only thing visible was where your bodies were connecting. but he could hear all your moans in the video and that was plenty for him. he’s watched the video countless times.

♡ keeps a naughty polaroid of you in his wallet

♡ reallyyy likes to go down on you. he would spend the rest of his life between your thighs if he could.

♡ loves to tease you and make you beg. he’ll have you on your knees, begging him to fuck you. and of course that gives the cheeky bastard an aura of arrogance, but it’s hot on him so its ok.

♡ he specifically likes to tease you while you’re training together. watching the way you get flustered and try to ignore his innuendos and subtle hand movements on the more intimate parts of your body. then, when he has you alone, he’ll make it seem like you were the one causing all the distractions. he’ll stay fully clothed and strip you down, fingering you while you stifle your moans. “this why you were distracted today, love? thinkin’ bout my fingers inside of you?” (when, in fact, you were trying to train and he was the one being all cheeky)

♡ over the clothes... he is fond of letting you ride his thigh, both of you fully clothed (that, or you're in underwear and he's fully clothed). sometimes he'll fuck you with everything on, dry humping you so aggressively that you come harder than you ever have. my guy is good at what he does.

♡ quite intense and intimidating when having sex. he's demanding in a way that makes you nervous and embarrassed. always making you say things that make your face heat. "is this want you want, pretty girl? gonna have to say it. unless you want me to stop?" "tell me what you want, love. use your words." "you want me? where? gotta spell it out for me."

Soap

♡ doesn’t love the fact that you might get off to porn when he's not around, so he sends you audios of him jerking off, whining and moaning loudly for you. he gets so turned on when you tell him you got off to his video.

♡ likes to switch between being dominant and submissive. he’ll fuck you hard and fast, make you beg, tell you what to do, and edge you until you’re a crying mess. but he also likes it when you take control, riding him and stopping just as he’s about to finish, making him whine and whimper as you suck his dick, not letting him touch you as you tease him mercilessly, likes when you wrap your hand around his neck as you ride him.

♡ likes when you scratch him up. he wears all the marks you give him proudly and secretly likes being teased by the guys about it. he'll even tell you to be rougher on him. "bite down, love, I can take it."

♡ loves blowjobs. and loves finishing on your face with your tongue out. he finds it so hot when you lick your lips, his cum dripping down your chin.

♡ likes to be slow and gentle with you, dragging it out. he wants to take his time with you. and he'll do whatever you say or want. he's constantly making sure you're doing good or you like what he's doing. Sometimes you end up getting a bit frustrated, "yes, johnny, that feels fucking fantastic, now shut up and fuck me!" "yes, ma'am!"

♡ aftercare involves cleaning you up. taking a shower together. lame jokes. braiding your hair. giving you his sweatshirt to wear. and spooning you.

♡ almost came in his pants the first time he saw you in sexy lingerie that you bought just for his viewing pleasure.

♡ has a slight oral fixation and likes to keep his mouth busy the entire time. he's always kissing or nipping somewhere on you. he loves kissing your neck, jaw, chest, just anywhere really. he often groans into the kisses, making you swallow them.

Alejandro

♡ "if you're a good girl and don't come until i tell you, i'll make you come over and over again"

♡ for some reason, he likes to leave hickeys on your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he kisses you everywhere below your hips except where you need him most.

♡ he lives for teasing. he wants you a withering mess before he even considers giving you what you need. will have you crying because of how bad you want him. those are his favorite tears from you.

♡ he will overstimulate the fuck outta you too. you come at least 3 times every time you fuck. and he'll threaten to keep going, your core throbbing in painful overstimulation, unless you do exactly as he says.

♡ leaves bruises and scratch marks all over you. but he also expects the same in return. both of you look like you got into a gnarly brawl every time you fuck. "jesus christ, were you two fucking in there or wrestling a wild bear?"

♡ he is amazing at aftercare, a big switch up from the dominant, rough sex. he'll clean you up while muttering little praises. he'll carry you to the bathroom, sometimes taking a warm bath with you and washing your hair. he'll get you situated into clean comfy clothes and curl you up into him in bed. whatever you need, he'll do.

♡ likes the thrill of getting caught. he doesn't actually want to get caught, but it's the rush of it all. he's down to fuck anywhere. he's sneaky too and can be really subtle about touching you under the table, or in a dark corner of the bar, or on the roof while you're on watch duty. but he definitely prefers when you can both let loose and be loud.

[gloomwitchwrites]

okay for the what ifs…

do you know that tiktok audio of the english guy going “RIGHT. THAT’S IT. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! E-NOUGH!!”

imagining that the t141 boys’ partners finally make them reach the end of their rope after being a little shit the whole day, so the boy(s) finally decide to do something about their attitude(s)… 👀

Well, howdy. Hello! I didn't forget about you! (And I am so sorry that it took me this long to get to this. I am very backlogged y'all.) Firstly, thank you for fielding all my questions and sending me reference videos because I desperately needed them.

And because you told me that the boys need to "correct" reader's attitude, I decided not to control the impulse and literally use this prompt as an excuse to write some smut.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: dubcon elements, bratty behavior, ball gags, sex toys, spanking, orgasm denial, unprotected piv, creampie, anal plug, face fucking, restraints

Word Count: 1.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Being bad is fun. Wicked. Pushing buttons and riling up your man is your favorite pastime.

“Right,” says John. “That’s it.” With a deep sigh, he places his hands on his knees. Pushing off slowly, John straightens his back, arriving at his full height.

You back up but John is already striding forward, each step long and purposeful. Intent on catching you.

“I’ve had enough.” His voice is eerily calm. “Do you hear me, love?” John backs you up against the wall, one hand pressed to the plaster beside the side of your head.  “E-nough.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you lie, knowing full well what you’ve done.

“That bloody attitude.” He lightly presses his hand to your throat. “I think we need to keep quiet for a bit, yeah?”

John’s shift from the front of your throat to the back is swift. In a span of a breath, John yanks you away from the wall and tosses you onto the bed. You land on your stomach, and then his weight is on you, keeping you pinned as he forces your face up.

“Let’s muzzle that mouth, yeah?”

The ball gag is in before you have a chance to protest, John’s deft hands securing it. His weight disappears, but it is short-lived. John flips you over, pushing your legs wide, exposing your bare pussy to him.

Your arousal is fresh. Wanton.

“That’s better,” he says, stroking the inside of your thigh politely.

John gives your flesh a light slap. And then another, moving lower still until he’s dangerously close to landing directly between your thighs.

“Let’s find out how sweet you sound without your words, love.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Right. That's it."

Johnny turns you around and bends you over in a blink. There is hardly a chance to protest or run. You've been poking at him all day, and now he's over it. Clearly.

"I've had enough." His palm comes down on your exposed ass.

You yelp, the sting fierce.

Grabbing both of your arms, he brings them around to your back, holding them in place. Putting one knee on the bed between your legs, Johnny knocks them open. Keeping your arms to your back with one hand, Johnny uses the other to slide home. It's rough, a slight sting that makes you whimper.

"I've had enough. Enough of the attitude. Enough of the backtalk. Didn't give you permission to be a brat."

Each thrust is rough, a pounding thing that sends you bouncing, but Johnny has a firm hold. You are unable to move anywhere and can only take what he gives. There is nothing sweet about this. It is pure punishment.

His hands only grip. They don't caress—don't touch. He completely ignores your pulsing clit. It needs stimulation, but Johnny is denying it, refusing to touch it. It’s a damn shame. He loves teasing it.

Johnny shifts your body, pushing your face into the bed and opening up your hips to take a deeper angle. He uses you like a toy, nothing more than an object.

"Please," you whimper, but he ignores you.

His pace becomes erratic, and then fizzles out as he seals your bodies together. You feel the burst, and hear his low groan. For a moment, there is a lull, and then nothing.

"You want release, love?"

You nod against the bed, turning your head. "I want it. Please."

Johnny releases your arms and then steps away. "Too bad. You'll do without." He places a hand on the bed next to your head. Leaning forward, he comes into view. "If you correct your behavior. I'll give you what you want."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s sigh is loud. "Right," he says, eerily calm. 'That's it."

You’ve rarely ever seen him upset. Simon might raise his voice or get into someone’s face, but it mostly just for show. It’s not real anger. It’s when Simon is utterly calm that you should worry.

It's your own fault, too. All day you've been annoying him, being a brat, pushing his buttons simply because you like it when he deals out punishment.

"I've had enough. Enough of your attitude. Of your antics."

Pushing him a bit couldn’t hurt.

"You hear me? I've had enough."

"I don't know what you're—"

You're flipped onto your stomach without ceremony. Simon has your pajama bottoms off and your ass cheeks spread in seconds.

"Simon!" you protest, clawing at the bed.

He yanks open the bedside table. You turn your head, noticing the bottle of lube and the anal plug.

"You want punishment? You'll get it."

You attempt to push yourself up but Simon shoves you right back down, flattening you as he lathers up the plug.

“What—oh.” Simon doesn’t force it in. He eases it. Slowly. “Oh—fuck,” you moan, elongating the vowel.

The resistance is short. It’s in, stretching. Sitting snug. Your pussy clenches around nothing but is already throbbing, wanting something inside it.

"Come here," growls Simon, turning you onto your side.

He lifts your top leg, opening you wide for him. With your ass against him and your pussy exposed to the air, Simon lines the head of his cock up and thrusts home.

He's not sweet. Each thrust is sharp and deep, balls bouncing against you with each movement. You’re filled in both holes, unable to pull away—but it’s not like you want to. It’s the punishment you’re after.

Simon presses his lips to your ear. "This is about me. About getting what's mine. You want to be a brat? To rile me up? Then in return, you'll be my slut.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle turns the television off.

You sit up, turning in his direction. "Rude.”

Kyle sets the remote down on the table. "You want to explain your behavior today."

You swallow, and feign innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Kyle frowns. "Hold out your arms."

"Kyle—"

"Do it. Wrists together."

You present them. Kyle undoes and removes his belt with one hand. He wraps the leather around it, buckling it in place. He gives your arms a tug, bringing you to the very edge of the sofa.

"I didn't do anything."

A lie. You did plenty. Snarky and sassy replies to all of his texts, not answering your phone when he called. Criticizing his driving in the car, and then his parking. You were a menace.

"Right," muses Kyle. He sighs. "I've had enough." With another yank, Kyle brings your face close to his groin. "Enough." You open your mouth to add one last quip but Kyle is having none of it. "You've been running your mouth all day. I know what you're after, love. And you're not getting it."

You stand your ground, if though you have nothing to stand on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kyle smirks. You know he knows.

"Open your mouth," he says, unbuttoning the front of his jeans. His free hand palms his dick. Kyle arches a single eyebrow, daring you to defy him.

You keep your mouth closed.

“Don’t test me.”

And still, you do not obey.

Kyle twists his wrist, tightening the lead on the belt. It pulls taut, so much so that it briefly bites into your skin. It surprises you, drumming up an audible gasp.

It’s his opportunity.

His dick is in your mouth in seconds, using the belt to pull you forward, sliding more of his length down your throat. When you attempt to pull back, Kyle grabs the back of your head.

You’re stuck and full of him.

"Let's put that mouth to better use.”

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

[mythicmanuscripts]

(Also, Aemond is also a biter but that’s exclusively during sex when he’s completely overwhelmed and he bites hard enough to bruise. He always feels terrible afterwards but you think it’s a small price to pay to see him completely broken down by pleasure)

Hello sir/ma’am/gender neutral term to show respect, I have the physical need to hear further thoughts about this.

Maybe about the first time Aemond does this? And he’s a bit ashamed and all apologetic (he might even cry a little) because he didn’t mean to hurt reader!! But reader just felt so good, and he was so overwhelmed. And aftercare of course because our boi deserves it all

Of course! I’m utterly obsessed with anything to do with Aemond losing control and just letting himself feel.

Subby NSFW Aemond below the cut! It starts out a bit angsty but I promise it ends well.

So to start, Aemond prides himself on being put together and composed. He’s not his brother. No one will ever find him stumbling out of pubs and brothels in the early hours of the morning, nor will he ever make a fool of himself in court through a lack of knowledge. He is good, he is prepared, and he prides himself on his composure.

Except no one ever told him that falling in love can make a person lose all that composure. Perhaps if his first time wasn’t that brothel worker and he didn’t have such a screwed idea of sex that he wouldn’t touch another woman until his marriage, then perhaps he would have expected this. But of course that didn’t happen.

I also think a large part of his poor outlook on marriage would be from witnessing his parents' marriage? Anyone with eyes can see that Alicent is not even slightly in love and just doing what she thinks is best to gain power for herself and her children.

Aemond may avoid sexual contact after that brothel incident, but that's not to say he's naive in any way. He knows the guards would summon Alicent to Viserys's chambers where she would be forced to lay with him before returning to her own bed.

This, he believed, was what marriage meant for noble arranged couples. There was never intimacy or care or warmth, only ever duty and thinly veiled resentment.

So when he meets you for the first time and Alicent says you're to be his wife, he doesn't quite know what to expect but he certainly doesn't expect how reasonable you are? He never expected a friendship to form never mind a relationship and yet he found himself searching for you in crowded rooms before he had even said his vows.

You and Aemond get along better than anyone ever expected and well, Aemond has no fucking idea what to do now.

Pretty quickly you realise Aemond seems to have two states? He’s either cool and calm and very collected, every word he speaks is carefully chosen and no one can get under his skin or get him to reveal anything about himself. Or he’ll be very flustered and whiney and he can’t even string a sentence together, he’ll end up clingy and unsettled, shaking until you pull him into your arms and then only settling when he can hold onto you.

There is no in between. Aemond has never found an in between because he’s never been anything other than composed until you come along and suddenly he’s feeling a whole new range of emotions and for the first time he actually doesn’t want to be closed off?

(Sidenote: the single most important realisation Aemond has is when he realises he actually wants you to see that side of him? He loves you, and you love him, and you’re the one who has made him feel so warm and soft and so… so loved and he realises that he actually wants you to see that? You did that to him, you deserve to see how you effect him)

Anyway, let’s address the actual point now.

The first time things get really intense between the two of you is a few weeks into the marriage, once you're regularly kissing and cuddling and Aemond is beginning to rely on your touches and confidence. Maybe Aemond had even eaten you out a few times. It takes a while of Aemond refusing to let you reciprocate before he finally feels safe enough to let you touch him properly.

The first time you do, you end up stroking him while straddling his thighs. What really ruins him about this is how it goes against everything he ever expected? He's sitting in a comfortable chair besides the fireplace in your shared chambers, he's warm and safe and he feels so... at ease? There is none of the horrid vulnerability he experienced at the brothel but also now of the sterile nature he came to expect as a result of Alicent and Viserys.

Instead it's just... good? That't it. There's nothing complicated or hidden or anything. That's what makes him completely unravel, this unparalleled safety and love that just lets him let go.

He whines and cries and bucks his hips without any care for how pathetic he probably looks. He can't help it, especially not when you're smiling down at him and calling him pretty and stroking his cock.

When he gets close, he warns you and just tell him to let go.

He ends up gripping your hips hard and burying his head in your shoulder as he rides out an orgasm that takes his breath away. He doesn't even realise it until he pulls away, but he bit your shoulder pretty hard when he came.

You felt it of course, and it wasnt exactly pleasant, but the way he smiled at you once he recovered enough and slouches back against the chair without an ounce of tension in his body made it well worth it. He can bite you as many times as he likes if it means you get to see him like this.

He, of course, absolutely panics when he realises. He sees how your shoulder is already turning red and the only reason he hasn't ran out the room is that you're literally on his lap.

You try to reassure him that you arent upset, but your words seem to fall on deaf ears. In the end you have to grab the hair at the bottom his neck and tug hard enough that he stops speaking and gasps as his head gets pulled back. You keep him like that, keeping your grip on his hair tight, as you tell him that you arent upset, not at all. You tell him that you know it wasnt meant to hurt you, and also that you're fine. You arent upset, he's still so good for you.

He calms down enough then to be led to bed.

But the next morning is when a rather interesting development occurs. You wake up to discover a dark purple bruise on your shoulder in the shape of a bite mark. You can see exactly where his teeth were. You touch it and it stings, but you arent upset about it.

What really shocks you though is how when Aemond wakes and sees it, he kinda loses his mind? Not because he thinks he's hurt you, but because you have a mark from him. You've literally got his bite mark on your shoulder how the fuck is he supposed to function now??

[mothwingwritings]

Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh Sleeping Headcanons 🌙💤🛌

Hello everyone! In between fics I have been working on some headcanons, like this one, for your reading pleasure. :) It's some bedtime/sleeping arrangement scenarios feat. you and our favorite murderous companions. <3 It’s dedicated to all the sleepy individuals out there that just want to hit the hay and snooze the day away-I feel you and you are valid. Also there is a bonus plushie headcanon for each character because why not! If you don’t have at least stuffed creature on your bed, this is your sign to love yourself. Go acquire a friend and snuggle up with him, I demand it. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DUE TO THE NATURE OF THESE HEADCANONS AND THE SOURCE MATERIAL, 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: abuse/abusive relationships, noncon/dubcon, forced cuddling, forced interaction, forced relationships, implied kidnapping, being held against your will, reader is threatened and hurt, mentions of/implied sex, very lightly edited.

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Ren/Fox🦊

·         Exceptionally clingy when he sleeps. Honestly like a suction cup. Regardless of if he’s the little or big spoon, he’ll be latched to you the whole night. Wiggle and complain as much as you like, he’s not relinquishing his hold.

·         Even if you two are just taking a little nap together, he always has to have some kind of skin contact with you. Holding hands, cuddling, a limb draped over you, something.  He needs the reminder that you are there and that you aren’t going anywhere, he can’t sleep peacefully without it.

·         He’s warm. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably warm. In winter this poses no problem, but during the summer it’s nearly unbearable. You need to crank the AC to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sweat, but the added cold only makes him cling to you tighter, increasing the heat. He doesn’t seem to mind the warmth at all and takes offense if you try and voice your irritation, giving you an earful (if not worse) over how you need to be more grateful for the affection he douses you with, warning that if you don’t watch yourself, next time it snows you’ll be camping outside with nothing but the clothes on your back. We’ll see how much you miss his warmth then.

·         He’s a night owl, but he also somehow always wakes up before you do. It’s not uncommon for you to be awoken by an eager beastkin shoving a homemade breakfast in your face, excited to start his day with his love by sharing breakfast in bed with you and watching anime. <3

·         Though sometimes he gets a little too excited in the morning, and if that’s the case you’ll be waking up to a very handsy man pawing at you, kissing any and every place his lips can reach, pressing himself against you so you can feel just how excited he is. It’s a good thing you are in bed because by the time he’s done you’ll be so worn out you’ll need some more rest. ^^;

·         Also, he is an avid fan of plushies. If you also collect them your bed is going to be 90% plushies and he is 100% going to use that as an excuse to be squeezed on the bed with you as close as physically possible so as you all can have room. None of them are allowed on the floor, no man is left behind, and he’ll make sure you all fit whether it is comfortable or not.

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Lawrence🌿

·         Lawrence is the exact opposite of Ren when it comes to contact. Though he may fall asleep with you in his arms (or vice versa), he very quickly grows uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, his body used to being the sole person in his bed. Very shortly after he falls asleep, he will unconsciously push you away to try and create distance. No matter how much he may yearn for your contact in his waking hours, he has no control over his subconscious actions. Often times the shoving is much rougher than it needs to be, abruptly (and painfully) waking you up in the process.

·         However, this does not deter him from making you sleep with him. Even if he ends up damn near shoving you off the bed, he wants you to be close to him for as long as and as much as possible.

·         Lawrence is basically nocturnal, and even if you are also a night owl there are bound to be some times when your sleep schedules don’t fall in line with each other. He gets a little excited when you fall asleep when he is awake, taking pleasure in watching you as you slumber. The way you lay near him, completely unguarded and quiet, only the slow rise and fall of your chest denoting that you are alive at all… It does something for him. More than once you’ve woken up to him standing over you, face flushed and tears in his eyes as he’s pumping his dick to the sight of your passed out form. If you wake before he can finish himself, he’s gonna use you to complete the job.

·         In fact, he just likes to stare at you while you sleep in general. He doesn’t have to feel anxious or worried of how you may perceive his gawking if you aren’t aware it’s happening to begin with. It’s a nice chance to really take in and appreciate your beauty without facing any backlash, and it comforts him to know you trust him enough to fall that deeply into slumber in his presence.

·         Doesn’t really get the point of plushies and never really had a strong attachment to stuffed animals as a child, so he doesn’t have any of his own and has no desire to own any. He thinks it’s cute that you like them though, and won’t deny you if you want to take one or two to bed with you. If you gift him one, he’ll be flustered but thankful, hugging it when he is unable to hug you. The little friend is a perfect cuddle buddy for when your sleep schedules don’t align and he doesn’t want to disturb you once you have fallen asleep.

·         Just be mindful that if he gets agitated or you piss him off, he’ll definitely destroy your beloved stuffies, tearing them to shreds with either his bare hands or any of the gardening  tools he has lying around. He’ll instantly feel bad if you begin to cry over it, but at that point it’s too late. It’s best to stop the tears before he turns the assault towards you.

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Strade🔪

·         Strade is all over the place when he sleeps. It doesn’t matter how big the bed is or how little space you take up in it, his presence is unavoidable. You can try and create as much distance as physically possible, scrunching yourself up in a corner in hopes that he doesn’t come in contact with you, and you’ll still end up with him sprawled all over you come morning.

·         He’s also loud. Snoring, grunting, talking in his sleep, he’s so noisy it’s a wonder you can get any sleep at all. You get used to it after a while (you don’t have a choice), but each time he nudges you in his sleep or wakes you up with a particularly loud snore, it’s all just another unpleasant reminder you are stuck with him, unable to find tranquility even in your dreams.

·         He has a tendency to latch on to and keep a close hold of whatever is closest to him while he sleeps. The moment he looks even slightly drowsy you try and stay away from him, not thrilled with the prospect of being smashed up against him for hours on end while he’s pleasantly off in dreamland. Were it anyone else or any other situation, you may find the clinginess endearing, but with Strade it’s just extremely uncomfortable and confusing. You spend the whole time unsure if you want him to wake up and let you go (and thus have to deal with an alert and active monster) or if you want to remain silent and just put up with it, thankful for the rare moment of peace.

·         He sleeps the best after successfully finding and securing a new victim, the gusto and energy that he puts towards spending time with his new ‘friend’ leaves him completely spent by the end of the day. A tired Strade is usually a good thing for you-if he’s worn out, he’s less likely to bother or hurt you. However the opposite is also true, if he hasn’t been able to blow off steam in a while he’ll grow antsy and restless, and he’s bound to make his lack of sleep and overall disgruntlement your problem. Regardless, you won’t get much sleep either way, as you find no contentment in either situation.

·         Though they aren’t really his thing, he is amused by your plushies. While he can see the appeal of them, the only real interest he takes in them is how you react to them. Which ones are your favorite, do you favor one character or animal over another, do you prefer the big and fluffy or small and squishy? Most importantly though, he wants to know how deeply your fondness for them extends and how/if he can use that as a persuasive tool against you in the future. Should they prove to be a promising means of coercion, prepare for quite a few new plush friends to keep you company in the future. :)

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Celia👩‍💼

·         She’s an early riser. Not necessarily because she wants to so much as it’s engrained in her from years of putting in overtime at her corporate job. If you try and pull her back into bed she’ll gripe at you, but is secretly happy that you are willingly making yourself a scapegoat for her laziness. Though on days she absolutely has to get up early, you best be getting up right alongside her to help her get ready for the day or you will be deeply regretting it. She always takes precedence, you can sleep more when she leaves.

·         She’s on edge most of the time and is overall a very light sleeper. If you snore or toss and turn too much, she’ll get pissed off and roughly shove you awake, grumbling obscenities while complaining about how annoying you are being. If she can’t sleep, she certainly isn’t going to let you sleep either.

·         Even if you aren’t a noisy or restless sleeper, she’ll still find constant things to gripe about regarding your sleeping arrangement. Either you take up too much room, or you are encroaching on her personal space, or you have some other sleeping habit she finds grating that you have no control over because you are unconscious when you do it. She doesn’t ever seem overly pleased to share sleeping space with you, and you often wonder why she doesn’t just banish you to the couch or some other place to get your rest.

·         And yet, she never does make you sleep elsewhere.  In fact, it only makes her MORE pissed off if you suggest it, taking it as a personal offense that you don’t want to spend time with her. She won’t admit it to you, but the act of sleeping near someone she doesn’t positively loathe or who isn’t trying to use her in some way is one of the few things that really brings her peace. Even if it’s against your will, having you in bed with her soothes her. It’s honestly the best sleep she has had in ages.

·         She’s not a huge cuddler, but she does like physical confirmation that you are near. Often times she’ll reach out in the night to grab your hand or drape her arm across your body, never smothering, but just enough contact to assure that you are still by her side.

·         She staunchly refuses to have any stuffed animals in her bed, telling you she finds them childish and stupid (whether she actually feels this way or is just pissed you are trying to bring things into her bed that take up even more space is debatable). If she finds any plushies you are hiding she will most likely throw them away on sight. You may be able to get away with a little one, but that’s only if she doesn’t find it or is feeling extremely benevolent.

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Derek🦂

·         The only time Derek shows any kind of ‘affection’ is when he sleeps. Like Strade, he likes to secure himself to things while he slumbers, and if he doesn’t fall asleep with an item (you) already in his arms at some point in the night, he will subconsciously grab onto something (also you) and not relent until he wakes the next morning.

·         The way he clings to you can almost be considered sweet. Wrapping his arms around you securely, burying his face into your chest or the crux of your neck as he snuggles up against you as close as physically possible, it makes you momentarily forget what a monster the man beside you actually is. It’s almost as if he’s a child huddled up close to a parent, seeking comfort from the things that go bump in the night.  The spell is broken if he happens to be awoken during one of these cuddle sessions, and he’ll take out his embarrassment over the situation by treating you even crueler than he typically does.

·         One of the few niceties he allows you is sleeping in his bed as opposed to the floor-but it comes at a price.  It’s an honor to be able to sleep next to him nightly in his huge, plush, expensive bed, an honor far too good for the likes of you. He expects to be compensated for his generosity, so you’d best be ready to do any and everything he asks or desires at the drop of a hat, no matter how degrading or agonizing it may be. If you want to keep this privilege while preventing as much suffering as possible, you’ll do as he says. (Then again, it’s not like he really needs your active participation to force what he wants out of you, but he does like when you obey him ‘willingly’ and has a tendency to be a smidge less cruel when you follow his instruction).

·         He usually forces you to either sleep nude or in some very compromising/uncomfortable/embarrassing negligee that covers so little you mine as well BE naked. He’s a blanket hog too, and has a penchant for cranking up the AC at night, leaving your only source of warmth to be curling up beside him. You try and fight it at first, but you inevitably give in when the chill gets to be too much (also you aren’t too keen on getting ill in his presence, swallowing your pride is worth it if you can avoid more suffering).

·         He will mercilessly make fun of and belittle you for any stuffed animals you may have or try to sleep with. He’ll infantilize you, asking if you need a binky to go with your stuffy, or tease that he’ll need to put you in diapers so you don’t accidentally shit the bed. However, even with all the constant mocking, he does find it kinda hot when you try and use the plushies as a shield, doing your best to conceal your sniveling face and exposed body behind the fluffy creature as he plows into you ruthlessly. The toy does a shit job shielding you, but it is hilarious to watch you try and hide yourself behind them.

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Mason🐻

·         Despite everything, he’s actually probably the nicest of the lot to sleep with. He’s warm and soft, and when he holds you it’s comforting and shockingly soothing. It’s disconcerting how easily you melt into the same person that caused you so much trauma and torment, haunted by the fact that the arms that now wrap snuggly around you were not so long ago the greatest threat to your life. You don’t know whether you should be more disgusted with him for holding you with such familiarity or yourself for enjoying it as much as you do.

·         The man can sleep almost anywhere. After years of surviving out in the wilderness he has honed his body to handle tough climates and all manner of conditions, granting him the ability to thrive in less than favorable environments. The man could probably fall asleep in the middle of a torrential downpour with nothing but a rock bed beneath him and come out of it completely rested.

·         You aren’t expected to immediately be able to rough it. He realizes this way of life is all fairly new to you and that getting used to nights out in the wilderness has its own learning curve. Because of this, he’s actually surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing. When you camp, he makes sure to bring his best tent and sleeping bag for you to use, even though it’s a hassle to drag around and he himself has long since forgone the need for it. Though it’s nearly impossible to find comfort enough to sleep while stranded deep out in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black of night, all manner of voracious wild animals, and a serial killer, he does his best to make sure you are adequately cared for and as content as you can possibly be.

·         However you best not slack with your survival instincts, this coddling is only a limited time deal. You proved yourself to him once by pulling through his trial, but that doesn’t mean you have a free ride forever. He’ll pamper you a bit in the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but if you grow complacent and begin to let him down… It isn’t going to be a smooth or happy time for either of you. Its best not to betray his expectations, if you do something overly stupid or otherwise show your survival was just a fluke… your sleeping arrangement is going to be the least of your concern.

·         He finds your affinity for stuffed animals a bit juvenile, but also slightly endearing. He can’t deny how cute you look when you are curled up in his bed, nestled amongst various furs and blankets, clutching tight to your favorite plushie while you rest. He enjoys that sight so much that he decides to make you his own plushie for you one day as a gift.

·         It was a strange little lumpy creature he cobbled together from various fabric scraps and other soft, but unidentified, material, all sloppily hand sewn with little black buttons for eyes. It was a true amalgamation of mismatched cloth and stuffing, and to be honest… You weren’t really sure what it was supposed to be. A bear, maybe? Or a raccoon? Regardless, you take it without question, and once he sees it’s been accepted he’s quick to discard your previous plush. He’s accepting of this hobby to a degree-you can have ONE. And since you were smart and picked the better of the two, you don’t need the ratty old one to cling to for company anymore. You have him and you have his gift, everything else is frivolous.

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[idleoblivion]

"Shopping Spree" Crewel x GN Reader

Synopsis: Your professor finally takes you on that shopping trip he promised, and you get more than just new clothes.

Part 1 Part 3

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: I can't explain why I am so down bad for this man but here I am with more smut of him. Let me know if I should make a part three, cause I'm definitely considering.

Warnings: Teacher/student relationship, gn reader, shy/nervous reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, overuse of the word 'puppy', oral sex (m!receiving), masturbation, praise kink

You sat completely rigid in the leather seat of his red sports car. You shifted a bit, not uncomfortable from the seat but from this trip already being such a large departure from what you’re used to. A part of you felt like you were sullying the whole car by even being inside it, looking very pedestrian compared to the driver next to you.

Crewel clearly preferred to dress formal and polished even on his days off. Over his outfit he still wore his signature coat, fluffy and luxurious as ever. When he picked you up, he had laid out the plans he had for you today. He was taking you to a luxury shopping mall, where you could buy almost anything you wanted. The only condition was that every outfit you tried on you had to show him for approval. His justification was that he couldn’t let you walk out of the store with something that didn’t flatter you..

“If you’re going to be my puppy, you’re going to have to dress the part.” He had said to you earlier.

He pulls into the parking lot and you’re immediately struck by the grandeur of the building. It looked even larger than the malls you were used to, and even from outside it radiated an air of expensiveness.

He opens the door for you once the car is parked, and puts his hand on your lower back as you walk beside him. He guides you towards the entrance of the mall and you step in together.

The inside of the mall was incredibly intimidating. Every store in sight has windows filled with products you couldn’t dream of affording. You repeat a question you had earlier to him, with newfound concern at your surroundings.

“You’re really sure I can get clothes here? I would’ve been happy with a regular mall too.” He tsks at you, “Yes, I am sure. In fact I insist, because I won’t have a puppy of mine running around in clothes unbefitting of them. And there will be no talk of the price either, that isn’t for you to worry about. No more yipping, follow me. We’ll try on some things in here first.” He pulls you into what would be the first of many stores, and you start browsing their selection with him.

---

You had been shopping for more than three hours now, and you were a bit overwhelmed with everything you had gotten. You left every store he brought you to with at least one bag of new clothes, which he carried for you. 

True to his word, he made you show him every outfit you wanted to buy. Almost all of them he approved, sometimes adding something or taking just one thing away, but he hadn’t outright refused anything you picked out. What caught you a bit off guard were all the outfits he picked. You knew he’d probably be giving you suggestions, but weren’t expecting him to pick whole ensembles that he demanded you try on. They were all very much his aesthetic, elegant black and white pieces with an occasional hint of red. He looked extra pleased after you would try those on, and ended up buying every single item he had picked out for you. It wasn’t a big deal, if letting him choose some things for you was the price for a whole new wardrobe, you didn’t mind at all.

You were finally at what he promised would be the last store. You actually didn’t see much that you liked, but he had found a few things he wanted to see you in again. The salesperson brought you both to a fitting room in the back and left you there. The room was decently large, with a few different places to hang your clothes and a stool. You resumed the pattern you had both established; He would hand you an outfit, you’d show him and he'd give his judgment, he'd hand you another, rinse and repeat until he was satisfied. 

You stepped out of the room to show him the latest choice. He pondered for a second before giving his thoughts.

“Hmm…It fits your body very nicely, and the colors look great on you. Yes, we’ll get this one too.”

You smile at his compliments. You go to reach for the next outfit he has in his hand, but he doesn’t give it to you. He steps past you and makes his way towards the fitting room.

“Um…what are you doing?” “I’m coming in with you. This one has clasps in the back you’ll probably need help with.” He pushes through the door and waits for you to follow. You hesitate, but after a pause you enter anyway.

He stands to the side and starts preparing the outfit for you. You wait for him to turn or face away from you, but instead he looks right at you expectantly.

“Well?”

Realizing what he means, you slowly start undressing yourself. You feel his eyes staring holes into you the entire time, watching every movement you made and looking your body up and down. Once you’re down to just your underwear, you nervously turn to face him again. You expect him to hand you the clothes to put on, only to find they’ve been unceremoniously tossed onto the stool. He steps toward you empty-handed, and you have to fight the urge to back up a little.

He places his hands on your sides and holds you in front of him. He leans down to kiss you, gently at first, but increasing in intensity very quickly. He bites your lip which makes you gasp, and uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands start sliding lower down your body, and you push at his shoulder to get him to break the kiss. He pulls back, looking somewhat confused.

“W-we, we can’t…there’s people here, and the worker might-” “The worker won’t bother us in here, and the only other customers were all up front. If anyone came back here, we’d hear them. Nothing bad’s going to happen, puppy, not when you’re with me.” He presses his lips to your neck and starts sucking lightly, then moving to kiss along your collarbone. His hand trails upwards to fondle your chest, and the heat in your body becomes unignorable. You stifle a moan as he leans to flick his tongue over your nipple.

“Professor…” you whine meekly. The sheepish tone in your voice makes him groan.

“Do you have any idea,” He starts between hot kisses to your skin, “What you’ve been doing to me all day? Looking so cute in everything I put you in, being so good for me…”

He stands straight again and eyes you hungrily. “You like being good for me, don’t you puppy?”

You nod rapidly, but he shakes his head back. “Words, puppy.” “Yes professor, I like being good for you.” Your face is burning, but you make yourself say it anyway.

He reaches for his belt and starts undoing it. “Then get on your knees.” You obey and sink to your knees in front of him. He grabs your chin and tilts it up towards him, smirking at your doe-eyed expression.

“Keep your hands on the floor, no touching. Do you understand?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Good. Stick out your tongue.” He holds your chin still while you put your tongue out. He frees his cock from his pants with his other hand and taps it on your tongue a few times. You don’t break eye contact, knowing you’d probably be scolded if you did.

“Now open that sweet little mouth for me, puppy.”

Again, you obey, and he slowly puts his cock in your mouth. You suppress the urge to gag as it reaches into your throat slightly and he holds you there. He curses at the sight of you taking him in all the way.

“Fuck puppy, you’re good, so good for me. You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face, right?”

You manage a small, choked “yes, professor” around his cock, which is all it takes for him to start fucking into your throat with fervor. Tears start welling up from his pace almost immediately. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only make him rougher with you. You want to press your hands against his thighs, but you keep them on the ground like he instructed. He keeps praising you all through it, telling you how good you’re doing and how perfect you look like this. It makes you press your legs together and squirm a little on the floor, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you feeling needy, puppy?” He pants as he keeps thrusting into your mouth. “You can touch yourself if you need to, I give you permission.”

You take him up on that immediately, and reach down to play with yourself. The stimulation plus the almost feral look on his face has you moaning around his cock now, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Be good for me and swallow it puppy, and show me when you’re done. Fuck, that’s it puppy-” He continues to ramble as he approaches his high.

With a loud groan he finally cums in your mouth. He holds your head still while he does, and you do your best not to choke while you swallow everything he gives you. When he finally lets you go, you sputter for a second trying to catch your breath. Remembering his commands, you look back up at him and stick your tongue out again, showing you had left nothing.

“Good fucking puppy…” he pulls you up from the floor to kiss you again. He holds you close to him and you shakily grab him back. “Did so good for me, so good.” His praise again has you writhing in his grasp.

“Professor…” You start whining again with a slightly hoarse voice, “I-I, I need you…touch me, please?” “Hmm…no, I don’t think I will.” You look up at him wide-eyed. Was he seriously going to leave you so worked up like this? “B-but, you said I was good! I was good for you, right?”

He chuckles at your obvious desperation. “Yes, you were puppy. But I think we’ve spent too much time in this fitting room already. So we’ll pick up where we left off back at my house, alright?” That stops your thoughts in their tracks. “Your house?” “Did you think I was taking you back to that destitute dormitory of yours? Of course not, you’re spending the weekend with me and I’ll bring you back Monday. Plus there are a few…extra gifts I’d like to give you there.” His eyes turn a bit dangerous once again, and he smacks you lightly on the ass, making you yelp. He laughs and lets go of you, turning to exit the fitting room.

“Get changed, we’ll get something to eat and head there after.” Once he leaves, you stand still a bit in shock at your situation. The whole weekend, with him? If this is what he would do in a dressing room, what would he do when he had you alone at his place? The thought made heat start pooling in your stomach again.

Snapping out of it, you hurriedly get dressed again and make yourself presentable. You try to calm your nerves, reminding yourself that you still need to act natural while you’re at the register with him. After a few deep breaths and a final attempt to fix your hair, you meet him outside the room.

“Ready to go, puppy?”

“Yes, professor.”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Harsh Reality

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.8k

Warnings: minor angst, being cheated on (not by bucky), fluff

Summary: You come home to surprise your boyfriend only to end up catching him with another woman in bed. Now, you have to live somewhere else. You try to move on with your new roommates but it proves to be difficult when you were never really good at the dating part of your relationships.

Square Filled: safe house (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

One in a Million Series

Author’s Note: a while back, i announced i wanted to make a series based on the show New Girl, and i didn't want to wait around to write it. i won't be doing every episode in the seasons, and i won't be doing it word for word like i do for my rewrite. enjoy!

x

Your plane lands earlier than expected and the first thing you want to do is surprise your boyfriend, Jack. You left to go to a teacher’s conference in New York and have been gone for an entire week. That’s not much but it is when you consider you and Jack haven’t been apart for more than a couple of days out of the six years you’ve been with him.

You left your car with him since he didn’t have one so you took a taxi back to your apartment. You’re bouncing with giddiness and slight anxiety because you’re doing something you’ve never done before.

For those who know you, you’re not very good with the whole sexy seducing thing. Jack makes it easy for you. He takes care of everything and that includes you. Still, doing something out of your comfort zone is nerve-racking as it is exciting. Your best friend, Natasha, is on the phone while you’re in the back of the taxi wearing nothing but a brown trench coat.

“Why am I so nervous? This is a good thing, right? I mean, this is for Jack.”

“You’re not used to doing something like this but trust me, he’s going to love it.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to walk in and drop my coat on the ground. He says he had this fantasy that I'm a stripper with a heart of gold, and he's helping me put myself through college.”

“He didn't say the college part, did he?”

“Um, no, I wanted to create a three-dimensional sex character.”

“Really? What's your stripper name?”

You look at the driver who briefly looks at you. “Rebecca Johnson?”

“Your stripper name is Rebecca Johnson?” Natasha asks.

You can practically hear her bitch face.

“Boobies Johnson,” you quickly correct. “Two-boobs Johnson.”

“Look at you, in the back of a cab, totally naked. I am so proud of you.”

The driver pulls up to the house that you share with Jack. “I gotta go. I’m here.”

“Good luck, Two-boobs Johnson,” she chuckles.

You pay the taxi driver as you get out and walk inside your home. It’s quiet so maybe Jack is still sleeping. He’s known for sleeping in late. He doesn’t have a job because he got laid off two months ago, but he’s been doing odd jobs to keep the money coming in. That plus your teacher’s salary is enough to get by. You walk to the closed bedroom door and open it with a smile, however, that smile is lost when you come face-to-face with Jack.

He’s not sleeping. No, he’s fucking another woman. Both of them look at you with wide eyes, and Jack pushes his mistress off him as if she means nothing to him.

“Y/N! You’re home early.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I gotta go,” you whisper.

You quickly turn and run out of the house, forgoing the fact that you’re practically naked. Jack calls after you but you don’t stick around to hear what kind of lame excuse he has for you. The taxi is long gone and you don’t have the heart to call for another one, probably because your hands are shaking so much. How can he do this to you? You’ve been together for six long years.

You thought he was the one.

Natasha lives on the other side of town but you make it there sooner than you thought you would for someone who was running. She has a nice apartment overlooking the city. It was out of her price range but because she is so good with selling herself, she talked the landlord down to a price she was able to afford. She’s one of the best real estate agents this city has ever seen, so the landlord didn’t have a problem with lowering the price for her.

You knock twice on her door and she opens it with a frown.

“What happened?”

“He cheated on me,” you whisper. “I caught him with a woman in his bed.”

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. Come in.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into her place. “I’ve never liked him.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Listen to me. I know how you are. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

“Why did he do that? Am I not attractive enough? Sexy enough? Is it my singing?”

“No, it’s not your singing,” she sighs. “Men are pigs and Jack’s true colors came through. This is all on him.”

“I wondered why he wasn’t taking my calls. I just figured he was working.”

Natasha sighs and rubs your back in comfort.

“You don’t need him, Y/N. Listen, you can stay with me until you find something else, okay?”

“No, I don’t want to impose.”

“I’m serious. It’s okay. I have the spare bedroom you can use.”

Despite her offer, you don’t want to worm your way into her life. She’s active on dating sites which means she brings home guys left and right. She lives alone and you remember what it was like to have someone invade your space like this. It’s why that night, you go online to see if there is anyone who is looking for roommates.

You shouldn’t go on sites like Craiglist when it comes to living somewhere, but you don’t make a lot of money as a teacher. If you were to go through an agency or even on Facebook, you wouldn’t find something cheap. You scroll through the obvious trolls until you get to one ad for an apartment downtown.

Four bedrooms. Open floor plan. It’s a loft of sorts. There are three women there looking for a fourth, and you think this is what you need to make a new start. You’re afraid if you slow down, you’ll be forced to think about your ruined relationship with Jack. You’ve never been cheated on so the betrayal hurts that much more. You gave him six years of your life and now…

What are you going to do?

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you respond to the ad that you’re interested and go to bed.

Tomorrow morning, you wake up to seven missed phone calls from Jack and over twenty messages, but you ignore them and get ready. Natasha is eating breakfast in the kitchen already dressed to show a house.

“Have a house to sell?”

“Yeah. I’ll be gone most of the day.”

“I might have found an apartment.”

“What?”

“I saw an ad on Craigslist. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m going over to them right now. It’s three women looking for a fourth roommate for their loft.” You see the look on Natasha’s face and sigh. “I need something to do Nat, otherwise all I’ll do is cry.”

“Okay. Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” you smile.

You get dressed and head over to the apartment downtown. You knock on their door and freeze when a man with a metal arm opens the door. Two men, one blonde and one muscular, stand behind him, and you look confused when you don’t see any women.

“Are you Y/N?” the man at the door asks.

“Yeah. I’m here for the apartment listing if you’ll still have me.”

“Nonsense. Come in,” the blonde one smiles.

You walk in and look at the loft, already liking what you see. You don’t care that you assumed it was women and they’re men, you just need a new place to live. As much as you love Natasha, that’s her space and you don’t want to intrude. Plus, you don’t want to feel like a charity.

“My name is Y/N, but you already know that from the ad,” you say nervously.

“I’m Steve and this is Thor and that is Bucky.”

“Cool metal arm you have. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

When you get nervous, you get chatty, and these three men make you hella nervous. It’s not that they’re intimidating or mean, but you’ve never lived with three guys at once. The only man you’ve ever lived with was Jack, and even sometimes that was too much. So, you start by telling them more than what they want to know.

“So, you know in horror movies when the girls are like, ‘Oh my God, there's something in the basement. Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what's going on in the dark.’ and you're like, ‘What is your problem? Call the police.’ and she's like ‘Okay’ but it's too late because she's already getting murdered? Well, my story's kind of like that.” You tell them everything from Jack cheating on you to not wanting to live with your best friend and invading her privacy. “So, that happened. That's why I need a new apartment. I'm sorry, what was the question again?”

“Do you have any pets?” Bucky asks.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckle and stand up. “This place is beautiful. It gets so much light. Jack hated light. It's hard to say his name.”

“It's okay. Bucky knows. He got dumped,” Steve says.

“Dude,” Bcuky hisses.

The place doesn’t look fancy but it’s new and it can be the start of a new chapter if they let you.

“You know what, I want to live here,” you grin.

“Actually, I still have some questions,” Bucky says. “No offense, but we barely know ya.”

“Yeah, okay. Full disclosure, I'm kind of emotional right now because of the breakup so I'll probably be watching Dirty Dancing at least six or seven times... a day.” Thor shakes his head but doesn’t say anything to that. “Um, I'm a teacher so I bring home a lot of popsicle sticks and arts and crafts. Also, I like to sing to myself… a lot.” You start to sing. “A lot.” You sigh. “I don’t want to live with my friend. I hate feeling like a charity case even though she doesn't mean to treat me that way.”

“If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to talk in private,” Steve says.

All three men go into the bathroom while you take the opportunity to look around.

“I think it’d be good to have a woman in here,” Steve says. “It’s good to have a woman’s touch in here.”

“No, all she’s going to do is disrupt our vibe,” Thor argues.

“Bucky? What do you think?”

“Well, I’ve lived with a woman before so I know there are pros and real cons. For one, they smell good but their girly shit will start to be everywhere. Um, they’re good at folding.”

“Okay, we’re not going to come to a conclusion but I’ll take Bucky’s indecisive for a yes. She’s in!”

“Yay, I’m in!” you say from outside the door. Steve chuckles and opens the bathroom door, and you smile at all three men. “You won’t regret this.”

Natasha was weary about you moving into a place with three strange men but you need this. It didn’t take long for you to move in since you didn’t take much from your old place, so the reality of your situation comes crashing down around you the second you get a bit of breathing room. Dirty Dancing plays on the TV for the third time, and you’re lying on the couch surrounded by used tissues and a few of your boxes. Natasha must have called your mom because she immediately called you, worried about living with three strange men.

“I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Baby, you and Jack broke up. Of course, I’m going to worry about you. You’re not watching Dirty Dancing, are you?”

“No, I’m not watching Dirty Dancing,” you mutter.

“Did you make sure those men aren’t murderers? You know how badly I stress Stranger Danger. You’re my baby, Y/N.”

Just then, Bucky walks into the room.

“Hey, are you gonna murder me 'cause you're a stranger I met on the internet?”

“Yes, I am,” he says without looking at you.

“He says no,” you say to your mom. Thor and Steve walk in, having just come from the gym. “I gotta go, mom. I love you.”

“So, the biggest party of the year is on Saturday. I'm trying to get us in but you may need to call Sharon,” Steve says to Bucky.

“I’m not calling Sharon.”

“Hear me out, Buck.”

Before Bucky can say anything, you sob as another wave of depression hits you. All three men look at you and huddle around each other, not sure how to handle this. They haven’t lived with a woman in years, and Bucky slaps his hand on Steve’s chest.

“You did this. You wanted her in. You fix it.”

“Okay, I got it.” Steve walks over to you and sits on the edge of the couch. “Hey, Y/N. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine,” you sniffle.

“Why don’t we turn off the movie, okay?” Steve takes the remote from you and turns off the movie. “Come on, sit up.” You do and he smiles kindly at you. “See? Doesn’t that feel a bit better?”

“Not really.”

“Look, I was cheated on before. It wasn’t fun. In fact, it felt a bit shitty. I don’t know you that well but I know you didn’t deserve it. Look, there’s this party on Saturday, and you need to get your mind off your ex. It’ll be fun. You’ll go out, meet some people, have a few drinks, and forget all about him. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Now, why don’t you get dressed? Bucky works at a bar. We’ll go out for a few drinks and maybe get you a rebound.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You get off the couch and trudge to the bathroom to shower.

“This is all hinging on actually getting into the party,” Thor says.

“Buck, come on. You don’t even have to see her. Just call her and ask her to get us on the list.” 

Bucky walks into the bathroom just to get away from Steve but the latter follows him in.

“There’s someone in here,” you say when you hear them entering the bathroom.

“We're leaving in ten minutes, did you shave your legs?” Steve asks.

“I will now.”

“Front and backs?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Steve looks at Bucky. “Just call Sharon. You call her all the time when you're drunk.”

“No, I don’t. Shut up.”

You shave your legs and finish with the rest of your shower. Luckily, the boys have taken their conversation outside of the bathroom. You wonder what the deal is with Bucky and Sharon. How did things end? Based on his refusal to call her, you assume it ended badly. Will you be like this with Jack?

Like Steve said, you all leave ten minutes later to the bar Bucky works at. Bars aren’t usually your scene but you really want this to be a fresh start. You haven’t flirted with or been on a date with someone in six years. Everything was reserved for Jack. You’re not even sure if you have it in you to find a rebound. If you can’t be sexy well, how can you expect to capture a stranger’s attention?

All it takes is one bad experience to ruin potential future ones. Bucky, Steve, and Thor watch you try to flirt with men but each one fails. You’re either too weird, too loud, sing too much, or too awkward. After about six tries, you sit at the bar with a defeated look. Bucky walks over to you and slides you a pink wine, your poison of choice.

“Well, I guess I can't hide my crazy,” you sigh.

“I don't think you're trying that hard.”

“I've never been great at this stuff, so…” You look up and muster a smile. “Looks at us, a couple of losers. We both got dumped, jeesh.”

“I’m fine,” he says. “It was six months ago.”

“Do you know why she dumped you? I mean she must've hurt you pretty bad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs.

“Aren’t you always wondering, like, what it was? Like, was there something you could have done differently?” He shales his head wordlessly. “Do you know what happens to people who keep it all inside? They get old and they get sad and they get weird and then you're the old man yelling at the kids who are running across your yard and you're telling them, 'Don't run across my yard. My life's full of regret'. You can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

“Or I could pretend to be more like you, Y/N, and live on a sparkly rainbow and drive a unicorn around and just sing all the time.”

“Yeah, I think you should sing all the time,” you giggle.

“No, I was being mean, I'm not gonna do that, Y/N.”

“Why not? It’s fun!”

“Because I have a dick, Y/N.”

“I’ll get you to sing one of these days,” you chuckle.

One of Steve’s friends comes up to the bar and smiles flirtatiously at you, and Bucky backs up to give you some space. He watches you smile at the man, and he looks down in thought. If you can try and move on, he can, too. He takes out his phone and dials Sharon’s number before walking away to take the call.

“So, I was going to go to the party this Saturday, but I’d rather take you out if you’re interested,” he says.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile.

“Great. Maybe we can go to dinner first.”

“Sure. Let me put my number in your phone.” The man hands over his phone, you put your number in, and you call yourself so you have his number. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he smirks and winks. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you smile.

Looks like you scored a date and you weren't weird at all. The high of getting a date wears off an hour before you have to leave for it. You’re stuck in your room, wondering what to wear. What would be sexy enough? Should you be sexy? Cute? Casual?

God, what am I doing?

Natasha comes over to help as soon as you text her, and all three of your roommates are shocked into silence, more so Steve than the others. She’s beautiful and has guys hanging off her arm. She’s well known, her picture is on billboards across the city. She’s not shy about her appearance, and this is one of those times. Thor and Bucky look at each other when they notice Steve staring with a smile on his face.

“Natasha. Do you go by Nat?”

“Only to my friends.”

“Cool,” he nods. “I’m Steve.”

“Y/N, do you need my help?” she calls out.

There is a thump followed by a yelp. “I’m okay.” She gets up and walks to your bedroom to see you lying on the ground like a starfish. “I tripped on my heels.”

“Okay, sit up.”

You sigh and do as you’re told. “What am I doing? I can't go on a date. What if it's horrible? What if I have nothing to talk about?”

“Then you go to the bathroom, you call me, and you tell me all about it.”

“Maybe I just shouldn't go.”

“Babe, you got hurt. That doesn't mean you stop trying. Okay?”

She has a point. Some might think it’s quick how fast you’re trying to move on, but you can’t slow down. If you do, you fear that you’ll never stop crying. With Natasha’s help, you dress in a short black dress that’s classy but still covers everything. You two walk out, and all three men look at you in surprise. Bucky leans his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. Thor and Steve smirk at each other, already in tune with what Bucky is thinking.

“Wow. You look amazing,” Bucky says.

“Thank you,” you blush. “I’m kind of nervous but also kind of excited. I’m going to text him and tell him I’m heading over.”

“Wait, have you been texting him?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, is that bad?”

“No.” He smiles slightly. “It’s nice. Have a good night.”

“This is going to be great,” you grin.

Natasha drives you to the restaurant, and you grab a table since Peter isn’t here yet. You’re a bit early, anyway, so you don’t mind the wait.

Sharon is able to get all three men on the list at the party since she knows the owner. Thor, Bucky, and Steve arrive at the party which has a bunch of people outside waiting to get in. They’re in line when Bucky notices a few of Steve’s friends, including Peter. They spot Steve and head over immediately.

Bucky frowns when he doesn’t see you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Oh, dude, she texted me like seven times. Like long ones. I just wanna hook up.”

“So, is she waiting for you to show up or did you call her?”

“Yeah, that's what I did, I called her,” he laughs.

Peter and his friend head inside but Bucky stays where he is. Thor is about to go in when he notices his friends not following him.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t go inside, man.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky shakes his head, turns, and jogs away from the party with Steve. Thor’s been looking forward to this party, but he understands that you need them more. He sighs and runs to catch up with his friends.

After thirty minutes of not showing, you know Peter won’t be here. You’re the only table in the restaurant without food except for the free bread they give out. You sigh sadly and look down at your lap, picking apart the bread. You look up when you hear footsteps head your way. Oh, it’s only a waitress.

“Do you have anything else that is free, but also has bread in it because the good bread I ate and uh, all that's left is a… it's like a… it's kind of like a health bread?”

“I'm sorry. We're gonna have to ask you to give up the table.”

“Um, can I please just stay, just a little bit longer?” you ask in a small voice.

“We’re here!” You look behind her to see Thor, Bucky, and Steve enter the restaurant. “Yup, we’re here, Y/N!”

Seeing them is ten times better than seeing Peter.

“We're here for the date thing,” Steve says.

“You're all here for the date?” the waitress asks, shocked.

“Yeah, we are. We're her boyfriends. We are reversed Mormons. One man just isn't enough for her,” Bucky says.

“Okay,” the waitress sighs and walks away.

Now that she’s gone, you look down in sadness. The reality of being stood up weighs heavily on your shoulders.

“Hey, Y/n, that guy was a jerk. You don’t deserve him.”

“You guys missed your party to come here to see me?” you ask and look into his eyes.

“Yeah, we care about you. We like you.”

“That’s so nice,” you sniffle with a smile.

You’ve only met these guys, but you know that moving in with them is one of the best things you could have done for yourself.

x

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[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (ii)

post rut Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS; the aftermath of a very horny fic, mentions of deer mating season, friends to lovers, deer/doe!demon!reader, reader with self worth doubts, a sprinkle of angst, curly-haired!Alastor, undertones of Alastor being a momma's boy, mentions of his past, making out, fluff (literally), there's plot

Dividers by; @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

From a smutty oneshot to a multi chap fic. Nothing can compare to the chunkiness of the 1st chapter, but I'm satisfied with this one as well. Enjoy you lovely beings and thanks for being patient with me!!! The art above is by @kalico-of-doom.

~masterpost~

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he's sleeping, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless beside him. You start petting his ears and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one. Is this really the same man that has been fucking you until your legs stop working?

In the morning you wake up in his bed, a daily occurrence at this point. However, you weren't expecting him to be staring deeply into your contemned soul.

"A- Al?"

Your voice is hoarse from sleep. You scratch your deer ears, flop on your back and stretch. Alastor keeps staring, studying you and every micro expression you make.

You can feel fear creeping into your gut. Is this the end? Is the rutting season gone? Does he want to kill you and eat you now? Will he kick you out? One thing is certain.

He doesn't need you anymore.

After all, you were just a friend helping him go through a difficult time. Nothing more. Still, you would be lying to yourself if you said that you haven't caught any feelings. From his forceful claiming -that hid a great deal of desperation- to his tender love making last night, Alastor has left more than just his mark on you. One could say that he owns you in the most primal and raw of ways, but if he chooses to deny that... -that's all it takes really- then you were nothing but a fucktoy.

"Um... I- I'm gonna take a shower"

Is that you doing the walk of shame? Alastor is a gentleman, why isn't he saying anything?! Not a single thing that could make you feel less terrible about the whole situation!

Now that his hormones have died down and you are far from aroused as well, getting out of bed and standing completely naked in front of him... It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, small and inferior...

This new emotion, the deep embarrassment that has your face feeling hot and your stomach churning with anxiety makes you dress up and leave "your friend's" room in the speed of light.

You lock yourself in your much smaller room, preparing a bubble bath for your spent and tired body. You smile to yourself a little, remembering how Charlie had made sure you'd have your own bathtub so that you can read your books while soaking in the warm water.

Sinking in the now filled tub, having the water envelope your frame, cleanse your energy and take his scent off of you feels nice. You let your eyes droop until they close lazily, you allow your shoulders to relax, your jaw to unclench.

A long and audible sigh.

Your hands around your frame.

You start crying.

If another deer demon resided in the hotel, he might as well had spent his breeding season with them. You weren't special. The mere thought of such a thing is killing you. You were just another victim of the radio demon's manipulation.

Still, it's your fault as well. For believing this was more than what it appeared to be? Maybe. You are getting more and more confused by the minute.

But oh... the way he had been repeating your name like a prayer... It must mean something to him -you being there for him. You didn't even judge the way he had spilled tears of sexual frustration when handjobs weren't enough to relieve the ache in his loins.

Who else has seen Alastor Hartfelt of Pride under this light? No one. You are the only exception. He wouldn't have allowed you to get so close to him if he didn't trust you... Right?

As your thoughts keep overlapping and fighting with each other and you continue to cry softly, you peak up the all too familiar sound of static.

Another unfair thing! He can melt into shadow and go anywhere he pleases... The sound intensifies as he approaches... you? Is he really thinking of invading your space like that? You can't even cry and be miserable in peace! Not like you're in Hell.

"Bonjou! Konmen s'apé kouri? Huh?"

Not only are you not in the mood to ask him to translate what he just said, but Alastor literally spawned in your bathroom and he's now acting like this is an okay thing to do. The way he's readjusting his lapels and smiling smugly like he wasn't a grunting mess last night infuriates you even further.

"Can you please get the fuck out of here?"

"Mh?" he just stands there in his usual apathy. He's even holding his cane.

"Can you at least stop smiling for a second?"

"Oh ho! I'm afraid I can't do that my deer!"

"But you can definitely get your ass out of my room! I-"

The sound of your voice carries to your ears like a whining child. There's a lump in your throat that you're beginning to fear you won't be able to keep down for much longer. If your face and hair weren't already wet from the bath, then it would be crystal clear that you were weeping like an idiot before he saw himself in.

Alastor is quick to gauge your body language. You're hugging your knees -shielding your naked body from him. Sometimes you swear he can tell your emotional state by sniffing the air around you. It's like your scent is enough for him to piece together the puzzle that you are.

The radio demon scranches his nose.

"What's there to be so sad over y/n? Today is a beautiful day!"

Is he playing stupid?! Because if he's doing this on purpose... Well, there's not much you can do now that he doesn't need you anymore.

Your lower lip trembles at this terrible thought and the lump in your throat escapes your notice, resulting in a broken and weak sob to come out of you.

Tilting his head to the side way more than necessary and squinting his eyes, Alastor asks "Are you pregnant?"

You freeze and widen your eyes. "I- Is that even... even fuckin' possible in the afterlife?"

The fucker chuckles!

"Oh, I don't think so, at least not for lowly demons such as yourself!" The worst part is that he wasn't trying to insult you by saying that, but rather calm you down.

"Go to Hell."

"Ironic."

You can't help it now. You break down in tears. Your chest feels tight as the sobs ripple through your body and make your frame retreat to itself. In addition to your general misery, the water has gone cold, causing you to shiver.

The overlord places his cane against the tiles of the bathroom wall and crouches down so he is level with you. He won't let it show just yet, but Alastor is very worried. There's guilt eating him from the inside.

While he was in musth, in breeding mode -or in whatever you wanna call it-, he wasn't fully aware of his actions. Alastor's mind was blurred from the desire to mate and basically reproduce. Now that he's back to his senses, he has come to the unpleasant realisation that he might have caused you harm in the process of letting out his passion.

And this simply won't do! This deer demon has done cruel and vile things he doesn't even feel particularly bad about... but hurting you... He would never be able to forgive himself.

You were there for him and showed him a great deal of love and understanding.

So, that's the reason you left so hurriedly from his quarters... He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. HE DID THIS TO YOU.

Alastor's permanent grin fades just slightly. It is replaced by concern, evident in the way he looks at your trembling body in the water. He reaches out to gently touch your skin, checking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Your friend's voice softens, it's now filled with genuine worry and regret.

"I'm so sorry darling... I didn't know I caused you... pain."

It's true that you have many bruises and hickeys decorating various places on your body, but that's not the reason behind your breakdown.

"I- It's not th-" you just look down. You can't even explain yourself.

The radio demon's worry only deepens after your vague response and he quickly takes action to be by your side, pulling you out of the bathtub and into a tight hug. Alastor whispers reassurances in your ear, his voice filled with remorse.

"I'm so sorry... We should have stopped when it got too much."

No one has heard Alastor apologize before -not even God, for all that's worth.

His expression softens even further as he sees your tears that just keep coming. He carefully brushes them away, worry etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You must know that."

"I'm not in pain... Just sad."

You do look rather devastated.

Alastor is almost frozen in place from all the guilt since he can now see the bruises forming on your skin. The water camouflaged them, but now they are exposed for him to observe and take in.

He swallows hard, his voice shaking with emotion like never before. "Y/n... I didn't mean to do that. I didn't. None of it."

"None of it?"

Your voice is muffled due to how you have hid your face in his chest. At least he's warm.

"My intention wasn't to cause you injury or physical pain."

You look up at him, finally making eye contact. He's looking at you as well, eyes shining with regret, guilt and what appears to be shame.

What really surprises you, though, is the pleading tone of his voice. It's one thing to be vulnerable because he's hungry for sexual contact and another because he genuinely cares for you.

"Can you ever forgive me for this? I promise, it was never my true intention. I just... I got carried away. And now... It's not an excuse..."

"You really meant none of it to happen between us?"

"Now, now, little deer! Someone's getting ahead of themselves! That's not what I implied at all."

You sigh and settle in his lap.

"Oh mon cher, did you really think I regret our... stimulating times?"

Alastor's long arms press you against him, his clothes absorbing the water on your still bare skin. He then picks you up bridal style and carries you to your bed. It's not king sized like his, but he doesn't seem to care for such details right now.

"Now... Let me see you."

"I said I'm fine!"

"The artist will be the evaluator of his work."

"No Al! Artists get critics to evaluate their work."

"Hmmm, did you say something, dear? Cause I didn't hear you!"

It's a common tactic of his to hide his real feelings by being chatty and pleasant. You of course know that, but in your current state, it's very validating to have him take care of you.

So he did care. And he still does after having stopped necessarily needing you.

Alastor isn't joking around. He's searching your body, subconsciously writing down every scratch, every bruise and hickey, every bite mark.

Ears alert on top of his head, eyes wide open. He can even make out the shape of his fingertips on your hips... He turns you on your stomach only to discover his whole palms are imprinted on your buttocks. Meanwhile, you just allow him to inspect your body for as long as he wishes. All the crying has left you drained but also tranquil and calm.

"I'm fine Al. Really."

"Shhh, I'm not done evaluating the damage."

"It's just a bite or two."

"I drew so much blood..."

"Yes and?"

He just keeps observing, keeps rolling you this way and that. The scratches and the bruises are the most triggering to him. They remind Alastor of unhappy memories -back when he still hadn't taken good care of his father.

As long as he hasn't permanently marked you, it should be fine.

"I'll ask Niffty for some ice."

"N- no... Can we just... sit here? Like... cuddle?"

"You were my solace."

"What-"

He gently presses a finger on your lips to shush you.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to say that. It's not like I helped you with a flat tire or something."

"I don't do cuddling."

"Nor touching for that matter. But... It's not that bad, huh? Just let me put something on first."

You stand up and go to your closet to pick something to put on. Your hair is still wet and your legs still feel sore from your intense moments -but it was a big relief to know he still wants you in his life now the rut has ended.

Alastor's behaviour makes you wonder. He's contradictory. From fucking your throat in his radio station, to bending you over various objects in the hotel, taking you in missionary, against walls, windows and doors, he still seems pretty reluctant to give himself to intimacy. Unlike those times, his mind is now clear -no overwhelming heat involved. Intimacy equals vulnerability ...and to him vulnerability equals pain. The inevitable way in which things had worked out in his life.

"But we did sleep together until yesterday."

The radio demon cannot deny you. He's already sat at the edge of your bed, taking off his coat, shoes and anything else that could make the experience any less enjoyable.

"I wish I could say you'll take this to your grave."

You grin brightly and chuckle at his silly, little remark. Your confidence has been restored -to an extent- after he made it clear that he does concern himself with your wellbeing.

"But why don't you like being touched? Physical contact is a form of affection."

"Or a form of punishment, of intimidation, domination and... many other vile things, my dear deer..." His voice is too low for your liking as he says that.

You don't know what burdens Alastor's shoulders, but it can't be good -and I'm not even referring to his own cruelty and the pain he has inflicted on others. Maybe his opinion on physical contact is connected to the endless scars on his body.

"Oh well whatevs Al. I just want my cuddles."

The way his ears are pulled back and he looks at you almost like he's a shy and innocent boy makes your heart bit faster. At least there's no velvet rubbing off his antlers this time.

Alastor is extremely gentle and cautious in the way he handles you this time. He lays down on his back and you use his chest as a pillow.

It's a cozy place.

His chest. He has some fluff there, just like Angel, but unlike the former, he hides it under layers of clothing and keeps it unstyled. Still, it's undoubtedly soft and fuzzy and you like to sink your hand in it or swirl the soft fur around your fingertips. The radio demon isn't complaining -as one would expect. It's soothing to have someone touch his body in a non-hostile manner. It's refreshing to have someone appreciate his body as it is.

Would you also appreciate it if you saw him as he once was?

His father hadn't. He could handle the child of a mixed marriage, but Alastor wasn't just mixed, but also looked the part -and according to the racist beliefs of his father in the 1900's, that was a bad thing.

As you're happily nuzzled against his long and elegant neck, your friend's mind wanders. You lived during the 90's. What would it have been like if he had also lived during that period? Everything would have been different. The town he grew up in, his relationship with his parents, his career as a radio host -and a serial killer.

"Did you know that my hair is naturally curly?"

Your ears perk up at that and Alastor gently takes hold of them and pulls at them from the root, just slightly.

"That feels nice..."

"Oh I know."

"What were you saying?"

"Oh yes, my hair's curly! Since I was nothing but a tiny, adorable, baby boy! ...my mother... she..."

His hand lets go of your ears and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

There's a melancholy about him now and you feel the need to comfort him. He's opening up to you by being genuine and vulnerable. Alastor is sharing a part of who he used to be and the least you can do is listen. You resume your activities on his fluff, almost massaging the area. He seems to like it, for a moment closing his eyes and letting a sound like purring.

"Can you keep this up?"

"Sure Al."

"Merci. What was I saying...? Oh yes, of course... Mama and my curly mop."

The radio effect of his voice and his arms around you make you feel like you're a kid being told a bedtime story.

It's a good thing the other residents have gotten used to you and Alastor disappearing together for long periods of time. His soft chest fluff under the pads of your fingers only intensifies the feeling of being told a story while tucked in bed, warm and safe from the outside world.

"It's truly amazing how much power is given to hair in certain cultures. In my culture, dear y/n, hair texture served as an indicator of social status. My family -a wedding between a white man and a creole woman of colour... Oh ho dear! It was something else back then...-

As a kid, I was always the one teased for having “weird hair”, as if it didn’t match my other facial features. When school began, my sweet mama, she... she would put my hair in locs to protect the curls. Apparently, they didn't like that at school! So my father... he -radio static intensifies- he made my mother shave it. He claimed that if my mother and I wore our hair differently, then no one would take us seriously."

You take a moment to digest this new piece information. It's true that locs enclose the natural hair and help it stay intact. It's also true that Alastor grew up in a time when it was very difficult to be of a cultural background which was different to the majority's. You choose to not comment on anything -that's not your job.

You swirl some more of his fluff around your fingertips before moving your hand to his hair.

"Well, it's not curly in the afterlife."

You feel the vibration of his chuckle through your check that's resting on his chest.

"But it is!"

Alastor lets out a satisfied sound as he presses you even tighter against him and begins rumbling about his hair care routine. He uses anti frizz oils, heat protection oils and then blow dries it. Truth is, that's just the steps you managed to actually register in your brain, because a sleepiness started overtaking you as you stayed laying in his embrace.

You're now fading between consciousness and unconsciousness. It almost feels like you're floating. Is this what Heaven is like?

Maybe it is. Maybe it is not. But you did manage to find your little oasis in Hell. And so did he.

Alastor looks down at your much smaller frame curled up against him. Your breath has slowed down and your eyes are closing. Why does it feel so warm and soft to have you close to him like this? He knows he shouldn't be letting his guard down, but he can't help it when it comes to you.

The radio demon is enamoured with you.

Wanting to make the experience even cozier and dreamier for his favourite sinner, Alastor starts singing quietly. His sense of rhythm is immaculate and his jazzy tunes make you fall sound asleep in no time whatsoever.

When you wake up an hour or so later, he still hasn't moved, but he acknowledges that you're awake with a small hum.

"Oh wakey wakey my darling y/n!" had been his usual response to you waking up while he was in the rut. However, right now he appears to be much more unguarded and raw than his usual persona -no need to put up a show. You haven't even woken up properly and you're already wondering about this new side of him.

"Al? Is everything okay?"

"Oh why, yes it is, but there's this thought occupying my brilliant mind..."

"Care to share it with my not so brilliant one?"

You expected him to laugh or even chuckle, but Alastor goes straight to the point.

"All this... making love and we still haven't kissed. Not really."

Kissing him would mean you actually view him romantically and whatever "friends with benefits" situation you have going on will be destroyed. That's not a bad thing though. Despite your initial fears of your fellow deer demon being too emotionally unavailable and only needing you to calm down the torment of his lust, a kiss wouldn't hurt. Kisses are good.

"We can change that y'know."

You make the first step by leaning towards him, basically giving him the green light that you're consenting to this. Alastor notices it and wastes no time, pressing his lips against yours while wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close into another embrace. He smiles widely as you kiss, his head tilting slightly as he runs his fingers through your hair. After a few seconds pass, he pulls his head back, slowly breaking the kiss as he looks into your eyes with a broad smile -that reaches his eyes.

"Aren't you delightful?!" and he dives back in.

Alastor's second kiss with you is firm and passionate -but not overly aggressive. His lips are warm and he seems to enjoy the intimacy of it -taking his time to explore your mouth. As the kiss progresses, he gradually increases the pressure of his lips on yours. His arms wrap around your waist and his tongue slowly wanders further into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

Once again -just like when it came to sex-, you have come to the conclusion that Alastor isn't that experienced, but some raw power -an instinct if you will- provides him with the ability to do all the right moves at the right time.

And then, you just break character. You burst into laughter. His large and pointed ears twitch at that change of pace.

"When I thought I was doing a good job~"

"Oh no, that's not it at all. I'm just happy." You're giddy and so is he.

Maybe not needing you but actually wanting you isn't the worst case scenario.

To be continued.

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[sugar-grigri]

How is Chainsaw Man the scariest without being the strongest?

It's still a very succinct analysis, but I find it fascinating how this whole chapter is irrigated by an idea that will only be verbalized at the very end.

How to make a decapitated teenager fearsome: by placing him in the demonic hierarchy.

Demons are closer to the animal kingdom than to the human, or rather, humans are merely the demons' prey, placed after them on the food chain.

But this food chain still exists within the demons themselves, and the law of the strongest naturally prevails.

So this chapter very effectively places us in this hierarchy by means of a key element: reminding us just how strong Guangxi is.

This is most effectively established by the arrogant nail fiend, who flatly submits to Guangxi's plea for mercy before she attacks.

More classically, this is underlined by the speed with which Katana Man was sliced open. The discrepancy being made by the fact that Katana man was transformed when she is not, even in her human form, she remains stronger.

Third element: the relationship with death. Guangxi has the same nature as CSM, weapons that know no finitude. This gives the impression that they're both in the same category and, given her power, puts her above Denji's more chaotic, instinctive abilities.

Which she recognizes. She's obviously stronger than CSM. But this one is more frightening.

Even in his most vulnerable state, human and decapitated, Denji acts like a malevolent totem, pushing an overpowered weapon like Guangxi to bend.

But all this seems confusing because CSM's golden rule is that the scarier a demon is, the stronger it will be. So if Quanxi is scared of CSM, why isn't CSM logically stronger?

The chapter answers this: Guangxi allows Yoru to kill her. In other words, the most logical conclusion to a physical and combative power struggle : death is not what frightens Guangxi. So what is it that frightens Guangxi?

Chainsaw Man is bad luck. When Guangxi faces the more vulnerable Denji, she remains stoic, as if she doesn't want to awaken a curse.

Once again, the answer is in the chapter. What's more frightening for beings who aren't afraid of the logic of the food chain because they don't know death? The death of their loved ones.

The food chain does not allow us to identify the hierarchy between several individuals of different species. How can such a miserable human be the superior of such a strong weapon? Because he holds something precious in his hands: her loved ones. Chainsaw Man is just as much a threat to them, so Guangxi, however strong, doesn't go near him.

Symbolically, this man who had little empathy or respect for his wife doesn't understand the reaction of a demon who refrains from offending Chainsaw Man : Guangxi who clings to the bodies of her lovers like lost treasures.

Seeing Chainsaw Man is a painful memory for Guangxi, as he is the mark of the mission that cost her the lives of her girlfriends.

Even if Chainsaw Man is not the direct result, he is an abyss around which stronger demons sometimes gravitate, but above all a black hole into which loved ones sink.

Denji himself is proof of this, isn't he? He's merged with this curse. His relatives have all paid the price.

Guangxi is actually in the same state as Denji. Decapitated, her lace bandage symbolizing a false scar, a false scar for a being who can't have one, an unhealed mourning.

Denji is once again subject to this curse. For a clue was slipped last time that this one had a bottom of conscience.

What did Denji want to do? Helping Nayuta, no? What stopped him?

Pochita.

When we see Chainsaw Man, we see the scariest thing of all.

Loneliness.

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day eight ❆ spanking

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

a little mishap at the company christmas party has you subjected to punishment—directly from the hand of your boss. 2.9k

❆ pairing: boss!price x assistant!fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; inappropriate workplace conduct; slight dom/sub dynamic (use of "sir"); spanking (obviously); fingering

Working as the assistant to the head of one of the biggest companies in England invited stress that few could understand. Add in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, and that stress increased tenfold. Then add in a Christmas party that said corporate head expects you to both organize and attend on top of your regular holiday duties, and the stress might give you a heart attack before the week ends.

It was a miracle that the whole thing managed to go as smoothly as it did. The decorations turned out good, everyone was pleasantly surprised by the secret Santa turnout, and the food was nice. Even the most introverted interns stopped by to chat. By all measures, it was a success. Which meant your boss would happily wear the success and (hopefully) give you a nice bonus for all the hard work.

Until the celebration started to wind down and you spilled nearly half of your wine onto him. Onto his very nice and no-doubt-expensive dress shirt—a white one, at that. You could hear the notice of termination being typed up as soon as you realized who you had bumped into. 

Ever the charmer, he took it like a champ in front of the gaggle of people. Not for your own sake, you imagine; the man had to save face in front of his employees whether it was your fault or not. Still, that didn’t stop you from feeling positively mortified. Cursing yourself for even pouring a drink when you should’ve been making sure everything stayed perfect. So much for a little alcohol to alleviate the mountain of stress on your shoulders.

Everyone else seemed to forget about it rather quickly. And as the festivities died down and people started to filter out, there was no unwanted attention brought your way. But, seeing as the party was your responsibility in the first place, you knew you’d have to stay after and clean up. The few moments alone would’ve been nice…if only you truly were alone.

You couldn’t be mad at John for being a good boss. He stayed over nearly every damn day, worked later than most just to make sure things turned out right. He showed up to the office party because he cared about his employees. Surely you couldn’t damn him for that. But when he sidled past you with a quick “can I see you in my office real quick?” in your ear, you wished he were the careless type to leave early and forget that you even existed. 

You wasted as much time as possible just to avoid seeing him. Mingled with every last person who hung around until they had no excuse left to stay. You tidied up counters and swept the floor best you could. You figured maybe you could walk someone to their car and get yourself out of a reprimand that way. Alas, you realized that it wouldn’t be a good look if the assistant didn’t fulfill all of her boss’s requests. 

You stand outside the door to his office for a good minute, just staring at the wood before you. You’re fully prepared to be scolded. To be ridiculed and belittled and insulted. Not that John had ever done that before—he wasn’t the type to act that way—but you felt so worthless that you figured he might as well.  

Mustering the last of your courage and a hint of apathy, you knock on the door. When you hear his voice invite you in, you hesitate before turning the knob and slinking in. It wasn’t a conscious choice to move slow; it was like you wanted to make yourself seem small and meek as if it’d convince him to take pity on you.

There he was at his desk, pushing a paper to the side in favor of looking your way. The blotch of red wine staining his shirt was painfully obvious. You silently prayed for whatever washing machine would get overworked trying to clean it out.

“You look terrified.” John’s voice cuts through the silence and nearly startles you. You hadn’t even realized how tense your shoulders were. “Everythin’ alright?”

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “I…I dunno, sir. Is everything alright?”

“Just fine. The party was nice. Very well done.” He leans back in his chair and you cringe when more of that wine stain comes into view. It almost felt like he was taunting you with it. “Though I shouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you.”

You nod, more out of relief than agreement with his statement. Muttering a small “thank you”, you shift awkwardly on your feet. You expected a scolding, but he was pleasantly warm. There was no anger or upset in his eyes. He didn’t even seem disappointed. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question is surprising, but it’s the tone of sincere curiosity that bewilders you. Not annoyance, or inconvenience. He wanted to know what was wrong, wholeheartedly. It takes you a minute to swallow your pride and give him a half-assed shrug.

“Nothing, sir. Just…stressed, is all.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was probably the mildest way to say you were frustrated and tense and angry and just about every other feasible human emotion.

John makes a sound at that. He shifts in his chair, inching it back from his desk. “‘Course you are. You poor thing…I’ve asked a lot of you lately, haven’t I?” You didn’t know if the smart thing was to agree or deny, but you wanted to sigh with relief that he finally seemed to notice. “That's not very fair of me, huh?”

Did he want you to agree? You decide not to chance it. Instead, you stare at your feet like they’ve become the most interesting thing in the world. Anything felt better than looking him in the eye right now. 

“So, what do you do with all that stress? How d’you manage it, I mean?”

It was a miracle he thought you handled it at all. If you came off well-put together, it certainly didn’t reflect the worry that consumed your private life. “I…don’t, really. I just sort of deal with it, I suppose.”

He snorts, an amused shake of his head. “Well, that’s not very healthy, is it?” Definitely not. But he didn’t know the half of it. “Someone ought to help you manage that stress. I can’t have my assistant on edge all the time.”

Unless he planned on including therapy in your benefits, you didn’t see that working out any time soon. You give him a tight-lipped smile, awkwardly nodding along. Was this what he wanted to talk about..? Scolding you for being stressed was certainly preferable to bringing up your blunder at the party, but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable with it. 

“C’mere,” he beckons you closer with a gesture and a cock of his head. You take a few hesitant steps towards his desk, but he grumbles and gestures again. “Closer. Get over here.”

You freeze for a moment before complying. Why John could possibly want you so close was unknown to you, and your slow steps betrayed your hesitance. You stopped when you stood just before him, mere inches away from his body. It wasn’t unlike him to get close—he seemed to like crowding you—but it felt different this time. 

“Listen,” he starts, reaching out to rest a hand on your waist. “I need you at your best. Your job is very important, and I can’t accept anything less than perfect.” You don’t even notice the slight nod of your head. It was a reflexive response to agree with him, even if it meant agreeing to your own faults. His heavy palm slides down to your hip, squeezing you gently. “And if you don’t give me your best, consequences are in order.”

Your heart sinks. You expect him to dock your pay or pile on ten extra responsibilities to your work load—something that’ll make you feel even worse, no doubt. But when he looks up at you, there’s no sincerity or disappointment in his eyes. Instead, there’s something…eager. Almost like he’s excited when he starts to speak again.

“Seein’ as you’re my assistant, I think a heavy handed approach should suffice.” He squeezes your hip to further his emphasis as he leans forward. He’s so close you can feel his breath against your waist, his lips nearly brushing against you. “Somethin’ a little more personal.”

Oh.

You swallow thickly, your heart beating so hard you fear it might burst out of your chest. Too many emotions conflicted with each other—relief that he wasn’t angry, worried about the implications, excited that he’s propositioned you. It wasn’t rare that you got a little excited thinking about John. He was an attractive man, and the authority only added to the appeal.

HR be damned, you’d think yourself a fool if you never took the offer. “Whatever you think is best, sir.” You didn’t intend for your voice to sound so breathy and coy, but you didn’t fight it. You rest a hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirt tight when his hand suddenly moves to grope your ass. 

“Oh, I know what’s best for my assistant." He leans back, his hands falling away from your body in a movement that almost makes you whine at the loss. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt before patting his thigh invitingly. “She needs bent over and taught about consequences, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out in a squeak before you can stop yourself. One last look in his eyes and you were ready to give him whatever he wanted.

Taking his implication as your instruction, you bend yourself over his lap, bracing your hands on his thigh once you’re in place. You can hear your own heartbeat, pounding in your head and mingling with every thought telling you this is a bad idea. But then you hear him groan and feel a heavy palm skirt along your back and every doubtful thought is drowned by something much more desperate. 

“This is my favorite skirt of yours, you know that?” John mutters while splaying his thick fingers along your backside. Of course you knew he liked this one—he was never very subtle about it. It’s why you wore it to the party in the first place, only now you wish you’d wore something more flattering than a Christmas sweater to go with it. 

He tugs your skirt up and over your ass without ceremony, scrunching it at your waist until you’re fully exposed. He runs a hand over your soft, pliant skin, squeezing just enough to see the fat spill over his fingers. You gasp at the rough touch but make no effort to move away. If anything, you find yourself arching into the needy movements. 

Then, his hand pulls back and comes down in a sharp smack that takes your breath away. He groans again, watching your body recoil. “Yeah, this’ll do just fine.” He punctuates the thought with another spank. “We’ll see how many you can take before you learn your lesson.”

Another sharp smack of his palm makes you whine. You nod in agreement, but you don’t think he’s much concerned with your input at this point. Two more harsh spanks hit and you hiss when he runs his palm over the spot of impact. The dull sting already throbs under your flushed skin, aching more when he gropes your ass in a tight squeeze. The next spank draws a moan from your lips, the sharp impact sending an unexpected wave of pleasure directly between your legs.

John hooks a finger under the seam of your panties, pulling the fabric to expose more of your flushed skin. “You’re doin’ good, takin’ it well.”

You pause, waiting for a spank that never comes. “Thank you, sir,” you manage to stumble out.

Smack! You jerk at that, biting your lip to stifle a pathetic sound. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?” His movements are as soft as his voice, gently massaging the welt forming on your sensitive skin. “I can buy a hundred more shirts, but I can’t replace you. Certainly not when you’ve shown me how well you can take what I give you.” You whimper at the next sudden spank. “Such a good assistant for me, and I haven’t given you the break you deserve have I?”

You’re not quite sure what the right answer is, but you hesitantly shake your head. The next strike motivates you to verbalize your answer. “No, sir. I haven’t gotten a break.”

“You poor thing…” You barely notice the movement of his hand as it slides off of your battered skin. It’s not until he slides his fingers over the center of your panties that you react, gasping at the sudden (and much needed) pressure. You hadn’t even realized how wet you’d gotten, and judging by his excited groan, neither had he. “You need a break from all that stress, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Pulling the sodden fabric to the side, John exposes your wet cunt and hums in satisfaction when he sees the slick glistening on your sensitive flesh. He grabs you on either side, using his fingers to spread you apart. One hand pulls back to spank your ass a final time, and he watches you clench at the impact. Two thick fingers run up and down your slit, gathering your wet arousal, before prodding at your entrance.

He sinks in with a groan and the sudden fullness takes your breath away. You curse and arch your back, rocking your hips onto his fingers. Your nails dig into his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. He buries his fingers to the knuckle before pumping them in and out in a steady pace that makes your knees weak. 

“Christ, love, you are tense. This cunt’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me.” His fingers press deep on each thrust, curled and angled just right to make you push against his intrusion. “Is this what you needed? Someone to stuff this pussy full?”

You hum a soft “mm-hmm” and nod your head. But John isn’t satisfied with that; his free hand comes down in a sharp spank that forces a surprised yelp from your lips. “Fuck—yes, sir,” you sputter.

“Yeah, you just need a proper fuck to keep you goin’ huh?” His free hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your head back until he could see your face. “Fuck, I’ll keep you late every day, bend you over my desk and fuck you as much as you need. Is that what you want?”

Hearing him say it was one thing, but seeing those filthy words come from your boss’s mouth made you clench around his fingers. “Yes…yes, sir,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading as you look up at him. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Your head lolls forward when he releases your jaw. His hand fucks into you rougher, quick and sharp pumps that make you keen, almost like he’s too impatient to keep going slow. He bullies that sensitive spot inside you until you start to tense and quiver on his lap. His heavy palm brushes over your welted skin, kneading your ass just to hear the whimpers it draws from you. 

You hold onto his thigh, nails digging into his pants as you try to hold yourself steady. “J-John, m’gonna…fuck…” It’s near impossible to squeak out the words with the constant pressure filling your cunt. 

“I know, love. You’re gonna cum for your boss, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm—”

“Yeah, gonna soak my fuckin’ lap with it? Make another mess on me?”

It sounded filthy when he put it like that. And while getting reminded of your embarrassing blunder at the Christmas party was the last thing you wanted to think about right now, you couldn’t deny that it certainly motivated you to make another mess. Especially when he was so eager for this one.

You couldn’t even form the words to properly warn him. You were sure he could tell by the tight pull of your slick walls around his fingers that you were toppling over that edge fast. Between his encouragement and the perfect fit of his digits, he was coaxing out all of your pent-up energy. And it hit you hard.

You were a quivering, dripping mess on his lap. Gushing around his fingers, clenching tight like you were trying to suck him in deeper. Your knees were so weak you weren’t sure you could stand back up. John slid his fingers out and delivered one final spank to your flushed skin. You think he mutters a soft ‘good girl’, but you find it hard to hear him properly as you catch your breath.

Raising off of his lap, you adjust your clothes and pull your skirt back into its proper position. Your legs are weak and your ass stings with every movement. You aren’t sure whether to thank him or apologize—so you settle for neither. The silence sits heavy in the room as you trudge to the door to take your leave. You could worry about facing him next week when you were alone, in the comfort of your home, and thinking straight.

Then, you hear him call out your name as soon as your hand touches the doorknob. You turn just enough to see his figure in your peripheral. Still sat with his legs spread and his sleeves rolled up, but now with a rather obvious hand palming himself through his pants. If you had any less restraint, you might’ve walked yourself back over to him. 

“I’ll see you Monday, yeah?” You nod at the sound of his gruff voice. “Do me a favor n’ wear that skirt again, sweetheart.”

You smile, mainly to yourself. “Yes, sir.”

[bluegiragi]

Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol

!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.

lots of reading under the cut!

so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.

This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.

Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.

(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)

Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.

tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes

[yuyuwritesss]

Someone older

Pairing: John Price x younger!reader

Summary: you get mad at Price for being too nice to you.

A/N: Slight angst, 10 things I hate about you vibes and John acts mean for like 2 seconds (but is overall a sweetheart), 2.290 words.

"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"

The giant hand, patting then ruffling your hair, moving to cup your cheek before quickly being withdrawn, always left you in a sea of helpless longing and guilty consciousness. You know it came from a place of father-like pride and approval. But this recurring gesture, not at all dissimilar to his pats on the boys' backs, without a doubt altered to fit your, in his eyes, gentler disposition, doesn't fail to send your idle mind rampant.

Coupled with his softening voice when addressing you as if you were made of glass any loud sound could shatter, a gentle smile painting his face whenever you join the conversation while the whole team is out after a mission. Intense eyes not leaving yours whenever they meet, pushing you to look away lest you get lost in them.

Your naive, eager brain couldn't help but disfigure and reshape the intention behind his attention to its liking, desperately trying to get you to make a move. To feed it after a long fast, cut at intervals during which its only sustenance came from the crumbs dropped by your captain.

This lack of control, mindless yearning, pissed you off to no end. You were supposed to be a soldier for God's sake. But the build-up of moments where you felt your heart almost beat out of your chest at the slightest attention from Captain Price put your mental state on wobbly ground, and you weren't sure how much time you had before it seeped into your work.

This prompted a fit of rage and self-loathing out of you that translated into your being curt and bitter to those around you as a last resort act of self-defiance, to forcibly gain the upper hand on your feelings.

Which didn't go unnoticed by your dear captain, calling you into his office one Friday morning. As you entered you were met with the very smile that brought this on you. The soft crinkles around his deep blue eyes. The dimples hidden behind the thick forest of facial hair. The exposed, strong forearms extending to big hands, one of them wrapped around a fountain pen while the other rested by the top of whatever papers he was signing.

"Morning love. Did you sleep well?"

Humming, you look at the side of the room to avoid looking at him, the way the soft rays of light paint the wall and dark red couch he occasionally sleeps on when he's tired. You know that because you've walked in on him napping on it too many times to count although he always insists he's just resting his eyes.

You're forced to look at him again when you hear the scratch of his chair on the floor, his big body stands to stretch, offering you a front row view of his stomach as his shirt rises and his eyes softly close. Then, having stretched to his heart's content, he starts moving towards you until he's standing less than a foot away, a soft smile on his face and his deep blues looking down to search your expression. The smile barely showing through his mutton chops soured your mood even more than it already was and made you absent-mindedly scowl at it, too transfixed by it to notice his hand slowly rising up, his thumb softly touching your cheek.

Your eyes automatically shut at the feeling of the rough finger pad on your skin, brushing it and igniting a warmth in your chest that you've grown familiar with in your captain's presence.

"What's going on with you, dove?"

Your eyes opened to a slightly worried, inquisitive look on his face.

"What do you mean?" you mumbled, stepping back to no longer suffer at his touch and gain back your wits about you.

He looks at you, almost in disapproval, eyebrows drawn together. "I mean the way you've been acting lately," his tone gets more assertive and you try not to let it show how nervous it's making you. Being at the receiving end of his displeasure is a foreign experience for you, used to being in his good graces without much effort, his soft tone and even softer touches being common occurrences.

"And how have I been acting?" you say, holding your ground, your anger and frustration acting as crutches, holding you up and crushing down any sign of weakness or nervousness.

He gets closer from where he was first stood, enough that you can feel his breath on your face, looking at you as if you were some rebellious teenager he was forced to deal with.

"So that's how you wanna go about this, hm? Alright, you're dismissed, soldier." He says, staring into your soul before turning and walking back to his desk.

You thought him talking to you like this would make you feel better, might create some much-needed distance between the two of you where you can finally get your feelings back in order, but you were so incredibly mistaken. You hated how he made you feel when he was nice and soft to you, but this felt infinitely worse. His sharp tone, his back to you shutting you out of his world. The one you wanted so badly to be a prominent part of but couldn't even allow yourself to dream of coming close to. You were a big girl, but you weren't immune to getting your feelings hurt, no matter how hard you wished for the opposite to be true.

He was once again settled into his chair, fountain pen between his fingers, haven't looked at you again but sensed your lack of movement and looking up he said, "I said you're dismissed, sold-" only to lay his eyes on you, the most upset he has ever seen you, still by his door. He didn't think you would react that way to what he thought would be a harmless ploy to get you to come around later, but seeing you like that tugged at his heartstrings. "Love-" that seemed to jolt you out of whatever trance you were in and sending you forward toward his desk, unshed tears clouding your vision.

"I hate it when you call me that," you barked out.

He was shocked, he didn't understand what prompted this fit but opted to calm you down as best as he could.

"I didn't know, let's talk ab-" "I hate it when you touch me when you pat my head and look at me like I'm the only girl in the entire world."

You felt terrible, especially with the way he was looking at you with heartbreak in his eyes, but at the same time, you were glad he was finally feeling what you felt every single day but had to lock up, so you kept going.

"I hate when you say my name and when you stand so close to me and when you treat me like I'm something special," you say, setting your hands on the desk and coming closer.

"But above all, I hate how none of this is true and that the only thing I truly hate is how you make me feel, so helplessly in love with a man who couldn't possibly love me back, not in a million years," you say softly, your tears finally falling and collapsing on astutely ordered files, in contradiction with your feelings at the moment.

You wipe at them harshly with both hands as if making them disappear equates to making this whole situation go away. You don't even hear him stand up and make his way to you until two hands grip your wrists, inhibiting them from any more abuse on your eyes and cheeks, and pull you into his encompassing chest. "Shhh darl', I've got you," your hard breathing into his neck allows you to get more than enough whiffs of his soothing scent, causing your hiccups to become few and far in-between and your hyperventilating to slow down.

As you calm down, you expect him to step back, letting you go now that he's done, decent man that he is, what he had to do. But you're surprised to feel him sit down on the chair, simultaneously pulling you into his lap.

Your face feels exposed and your hands self-consciously find your face, hiding it from him only to have your two wrists bound by a single one of his hands—the other one circling your back and waist—and pulled back to reveal you to him.

You finally build up enough courage to look him in the eye to find his blue eyes looking at you with such gentleness and pure compassion it nearly melts your heart.

"What makes you think I don't love you back?" Your eyes widen and your mouth can't seem to form a coherent sentence which ultimately becomes useless as lips come crashing down into yours, they kiss and kiss until you can no longer breathe, only pulling away when you nearly go limp in his arms. As you recompose yourself, you feel as though reality split and launched you into an alternate universe out of pity.

The only thing that could come out of your mouth is a wobbly "Why?", as his smile begins to widen. "Why do you think?" A nod to your earlier behavior, one you would've found humorous under different circumstances but the ones you were presently under regressed your brain to a version incapable of understanding irony.

"I need to understand," you said, an earnest albeit confused expression painting your face.

"What's there not to love about you, dove?" He said softly brushing your cheek with the back of his hand, "I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you and every moment spent with you seemed to justify that, I tried to be discreet but you seemed to catch on, smart girl that you are."

You were on the verge of passing out from how overjoyed and delirious you felt. "Why didn't you say anything?" you said, reaching out to cup his jaw and moving to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"I didn't want to steal your youth away from you, thought you deserved someone your own age."

You immediately kiss him with all the pent-up anger this misunderstanding had culminated in you and pull back to see his lips a titillating shade of red. "I couldn't give less of a shit about that, you're all I need." You felt his hand squeeze your waist as you rested your forehead against his.

"How about dinner tonight, love?"

A hundred sunbeams couldn't match your smile at hearing those words, nodding as you curled further into his warm chest, happy with the knowledge that you were now allowed to touch him as much as you liked.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Guys as Boyfriends: Part 2 (Tartaglia, Kinich, Neuvillette)

It's been so long since I did ones for Kaeya, Xiao, and Thoma. Even though they were only reposted at the beginning of November, it's been ages since I wrote them

CW: None (seriously just fluff)

Tartaglia x gn!reader; Kinich x gn!reader; Neuvillette x gn!reader;

REQUESTS and ASKS are OPEN

Tartaglia

Same thing I said for Kaeya goes for Tartaglia in this one. He definitely has a teasing streak, but he'd be a really, really solid boyfriend

I mean, look how he treats his family. Dating him puts you pretty far up the list of people he values most

Nah, Tartaglia spoils the shit out of you. Fancy dates, gifts (he doesn't hesitate to use fatui funds to get you souvenirs during his missions), the works. He's away so much that he doesn't want you to forget that he really does love you

And when he's around you, expect him to be pretty clingy. He's always holding your hands or wrapping his arm around your waist, or just laying in bed spooning.

He won't say as much, but your presence is grounds him. After spending all his time fighting and threatening people, your company reminds him of what it's like to be a normal human

Kinich

Honestly, I think Kinich has a really hard time dating you at first

this kind of close relationship isn't something he's ever known, especially when you start telling him that shit you do doesn't have a price tag

it's a point of conflict, but he does start to get used to it, start to trust that his company is enough for you

That being said he's always trying to do stuff for you. Definitely an acts of service kinda guy. To the point you start to wonder if you owe him. it's at that point he realizes what you've been trying to tell him, that a relationship, by nature is one of give and take and shit like "prices" don't really factor in

after that things are much smoother

I think his favorite activities with you are stuff that doesn't involve a lot of other people. Cuddling a bit maybe, wandering around in the wilderness, I think he loves showing you all the little stuff he's learned over the years. Rather than going to fancy dinners he'd rather stay at home and cook with you

He's never very verbal about his affection, but one day he just comes up behind you and wraps you in a hug and you just feel really, really lucky because that kind of affection isn't natural to him

Also, Ajaw learns really quickly that being mean to you is a one way trip to time out

Neuvillette

Calm, stable, loving Neuvie. I love him so much

I think of the three, Neuvie is the most stable. Tartaglia is a battle-hungry maniac (and I love him for it) and Kinich is traumatized to no end. Neuvillette is just a workaholic

But even if he's a workaholic, I don't see him saying no if you want to sit and read on a couch while he does paperwork

He'd be so affectionate. Kisses to the backs of your knuckles, soft touches to your hair

In public he's not a fan of excessive PDA, though he will hold your hand, but in private he's really, really touchy. Loves to lay his head on your lap (of have you lay your head in his, he doesn't really care). Tons of cuddling and just sweet little touches

Also, hair brushing. I think in his case that's a whole ass love language. You could spend hours brushing his hair, gently combing out every tangle. And then he does the same for you, or if you don't have much hair, he still spends a lot of time with his fingers in it.

I guess, a good way to put it is Neuvie is all about that quiet, soft intimacy

He's not possessive at all and always encouraging (of everything except crime, he'd rather not see you in the defendant's box) and just ooooooo. He's just the perfect boyfriend