#and i mean... it does work. it gets a reaction. it breaks the man he was trying to break. mobius got what he wanted from it

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

The last thing Butch wants right now is to become one of those annoying folks who complain and gripe to the bartender about their troubles, especially if this fella was actually set on letting him buy him a drink sometime after work. It’s for this reason that after he grows quiet and Blondie begins to speak up that he’s genuinely taken aback by his words.

While he could safely assume he knew where the man stood on the matter considering the way he shrugged Darlene off so quick she didn’t have the chance to even butter him up, he doesn’t expect him to voice those thoughts or to validate how he might be feeling deep down, beyond the guilt for not being more thankful.

The rockstar is staring up at the man with large blue eyes now, remaining silent as he takes his words in and digests them. Everything he said was rather blunt, each word had meaning, and even more so his tone suggested he felt very strongly about this particular kind of thing. He can’t exactly place why and… does it really matter? Blondie was making him feel like he wasn’t crazy for having his own doubts.

Profit. That’s exactly where it felt his value lied, try as might to suppress the feeling. It’s different having someone tell him what he suspects is going on rather than gawking at him in surprise for being unappreciative of his fame. What does he even say in response? And if there was anything to say, his brain was still catching up, still turning those words over in his head and It’s for this reason that he kind of panics and he resorts to the cherry stem trick for an easy distraction from such a serious topic and he’s thoroughly amused by the reaction he earns himself.

He plucks the stem from his tongue with a lopsided smile and cackles at Blondie’s response. Gosh, he sure was cute painted all red like that, from ear to ear no less!

“Bahahah!” The cowboy busts out into laughter, “Why—did it work on ya?” He quips with a smirk before flicking the cherry stem into the trash can behind the bar table with surprising accuracy. “…Nah, I ain’t busted that ol’ trick out in a long time, heh… not since I used t’pick cherries from a tree on my Pa’s farm, an’ that was—years ‘go….so consider yerself special, I guess.” A wink follows his words, and as much as he wants to keep it all lighthearted, he he feels something needs to be said. Like he needs to address the others willingness to tell him like it is.

He falls silent again as he drinks down some more of his beverage and when he gets it all down, that’s when he’s ready to speak again.

“Ah…mm. I, ah… ‘ppreciate everythin’ y’said jus’ then… y’ain’t gotta make me feel better or nothin. That ain’t yer job. I… don’t wanna talk yer ear off ‘bout it all, but uh. Y’pretty much hit th’ nail on th’ head.“ his eyes have long dropped to his glass by now, him sliding it closer to himself. “Can I be honest with ya..? This’s, uh… still pretty new t’me. Can’t say I s’pected my music t’take me anywhere… my Pa sure didn’t.” A small laugh escapes him. “It’s… somethin’ t’learn t’adjust to fer sure, but… m’jus’ wonderin’ when I’ll feel like…” A lazy shoulder shrug. “I dunno, like I’m s’posed t’be here? S’easy t’act like I b’long but. Tch. Hell, a worked on a farm b’fore all this. Can’t say I’m a fan’f th’ pampered lifestyle as nice’s it can be sometimes. They act like some’f us’ll break f’we get too rowdy an—man, it drives me up th’ wall t’have eyes on me all th’ damn time. S’like… like bein’ treated like a kid again.” He finally voices some of his own grievances but quickly grows embarrassed by all he’s shared.

“U-Uh, y’got one helluva’n eye fer sleazebags. H-How d’ya know? I mean… when Darlene first ‘pproached me, it—heh—it felt nice hearin’ ‘er say all that.” Her opener, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a face for the stage?’, he recalls her saying the same thing to him when she had found him at a local event back in his home town. The excitement he felt when she talked up his talent, made him feel special, made him feel like he could have anything he wanted if he had someone representing him all the while. Like she could make it all happen. There was… nothing left on that farm for him anyway, not since his Ma had passed a few years prior to being noticed by the agent.

Artair's mouth thins as he talks but the expression he wears is one of sympathy. Wordlessly, he tops off the glass with more rye whiskey. He returns to leaning on the counter, watching Butch closely.

"Forgive me. Might be oversteppin'. But regardless what she's done fer ya, y've every right t'complain when someone does y'dirty." Artair clicks his tongue. "I know that sort. See 'em more'n enough round here. Some 'r fine enough, but some of 'em..... yer a paycheck t'em. A profit. An' that ain't nothin' t'warrant loyalty."

He sighs, before leaning down to look at him level. "I listen t'yer music. Y'got here because y'got the spark. She might've found ya, but y've probably paid her back an' then some, 'cause yer good at what y'do."

There's a brief pause, And Artair's eyes drop from Butch entirely. "Ah....jus' sayin'. Sometimes y'gotta consider what's best fer ya. Management'll always make y'feel y'owe 'em, 'cause they want y'stickin' 'round. But they ain't t'one writin' yer songs or singin' on t'stage. An' if they're treatin' ya wrong, well... up an' comer like yerself? Anyone'd be chompin' t' bit t' represent ya. Could be yer lucky. But could be if y'think y'are, she can drop last minute changes on ya and yammer yer ear off."

He's said too much, far too much, and he pulls back further, brushing back his hair. He just--- couldn't stand the idea of someone treating the outlaw-- Butch, a very real person, like that. He'd done anything he'd ever been asked until there was just none of him left to give, and it was never enough. He was never enough. Maybe this Darlene was different, but there was an insidious nature in the subtle build of expectations from a foundation of 'owing' someone. It was all too easy to assume if you just did enough, you'd be good enough. But you never would be.

But then Butch offers a trick, and he---- loses any sense of gravity or seriousness. His eyes flick between the stem and Butch's face, his eyes, and that stem and tongue a second time, longer. The longer he thinks about it, the more warm under the collar he gets, and he tugs at one of the lapels of his button-up to adjust it. "Yer---...... yer tongue's very skilled." He says it in a calm tone, but even just saying it has the heat dialed up several notches, even his ears managing to catch color. "D'ya try an' impress all t'bartenders wit' that kinda trick, Mr. Outlaw?"

[nostalgia-tblr]

You know, a lot of Loki fandom wank could be avoided if people just stopped assuming that everything Mobius says is definitely the literal truth and that he would never tell lies for whatever reason (like to GET A REACTION!) and can never just be wrong about things.

[piracytheorist]

Idk I just really like that Twilight's reaction to being told "Your wife used to be a prostitute!" is to go like

and proceed to say how honourable and worthy of respect her dedication, self-sacrifice and mental fortitude are, and how we're shown he actually means that.

And then my girl Yor sees his reaction and hears his words and for the first time in her life she goes like "This is a man who literally just met me and has no connection to me yet he not only understands my position, he's also willing to bring himself out there and have my back when other people have free bait to judge me" and like damn how important that was to her, to have someone (who doesn't owe his survival to her like Yuri does) actually see her and respect her choices and have the absolute BEST of faiths in her. Like, what Camilla says there has the societal power to make her look like a pariah. Yet this dude comes over and without knowing anything about her, he vouches for her and immediately assumes her reasons were noble and altruistic. And though he doesn't know what profession he's actually vouching for, he's completely right in his assumption about her intentions, and considering how easily the general public judges sex workers, it's no surprise this support gives Yor the courage to believe Loid will understand her and won't think bad of her if she ever disappears on them due to her work, because he's open-minded enough for his first and immediate assumption about her is that she has good intentions.

And I just wanna SCREAM because she has absolutely no idea how little he will judge her about her assassin gig. She already considers herself lucky she's come across someone who is compassionate enough to think the best out of someone who works in a profession that is not considered "morally acceptable" by the public. But she has no idea the actual jackpot she's hit, because his own profession is far more dark and sinister yet he still has the kindness and empathy in his heart to understand people who do the same as he does.

Like, that's it with her character, isn't it? She sacrificed her own youth and morality to help Yuri grow up and be educated, and that caused him to idolize her, and because he was the only family she had left, she has been desperate to not cause any of her ties with him to break. But it also caused her impostor syndrome, and she had no confidence in any of her abilities aside from killing and cleaning up after her work, because she lives in a misogynistic society that is suspicious of unmarried women (like, that judgment alone, considering unmarried men don't experience such scrutiny, can be enough to damage a woman's psyche) and because she has been working under a man cruel enough to hire orphaned teenagers as assassins and nearly kill them in tests of their abilities ever since she was a teenager. For her it was either "I'm either perfect in something or I'm completely useless and I deserve people's judgment". Because if Yuri sees she doesn't have the perfect record, she thinks he will be horrified and she'll lose the ties to her last remaining family. And she will think she deserved that. If her killing skills waver in the slightest, she will be killed, either by enemies or by the Shopkeeper doing his little "tests". And she will think she deserved that. And if she doesn't abide by the society's expectations, she will at best be judged and mocked (for not cooking at home) and at worst get arrested (for being suspected as a spy). And she will think she deserved that.

Yet again, this stranger comes along, is told she's worked a socially shameful profession, knows she's shy and with so few connections that she can't even find someone to act as her pretend boyfriend for a party, and he supports her. And then he finds out how socially unskilled she is, how terrible she is at cooking, how she can't even pretend to kiss him for their mutual benefit, how she has the tendency to get so drunk she accidentally kicks him unconscious... And those things that she considers fatal flaws of her, he says are parts of her that she doesn't need to pretend don't exist. That's who she is, and there's nothing to fix, and she can just accept them without feeling bad or ashamed of it, that pretending she's someone else, someone perfect, will only make her miserable and exhausted.

And like... fuck. How can she not feel glad she got to marry that guy?

And how much will her heart break when she finds out he's a spy and will immediately doubt all the supportive words he's told her? And how astonishing will it be when she finds out that he actually meant pretty much everything he's told her, and that he really resonates with her and believes in her?

(anime only here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑' ༄࿔ H.H.

⤷ Massages | Hand Kink | Breath Play

♱ word count: 2.7k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, “happy ending” massage, hand kink, fingering, choking, multiple orgasms (just 2), unprotected p in v, creampie

♱ notes: honestly really tame compared to the others... i was trying so hard not to make him into mean dom lol ALSO im posting this really late in the day compared to the others so i apologize lol

not proofread thoroughly (sorry hehe)

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Your head is throbbing and your eyes are drying up the longer you sit at your desk. Not a single concept from the last 2 units you read had made sense in your head, and you could barely remember the last sentence you just read.

Thanks to the constant stress you had been under from school, you had a horrible headache and couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing. You needed a break. And luckily for you, a new spa had opened up in your area that was having a “Grand Opening Sale.”

Which is what inevitably led you to your current state; lying face down on top of the comfortable padded table and staring down into the dark brown wood of the floor. Your masseur, a beautiful man named ‘Hyunjin’ had his back to you while his equally beautiful hands jumped around between warming up the oil and putting on music.

The snap of a bottle cap opening was heard and he soon drizzled warmed oil all over your back. You sighed happily at the warmth alone, but even more so when his long fingers began to smear the slippery substance all over your skin that he could get to.

And just like that, he worked his way around your achy body. His beautiful hands worked out each and every knot. The initial awkwardness had completely disappeared and was replaced with exhaustion as he worked his way around your torso muscles like some sort of muscle angel sent from above.

His hand worked wonders on your tense body and the warmed oil helped with breaking down your tension. So much so that you found yourself getting too relaxed. Too comfortable and too attracted to the man above you who was currently easing your body into what you swore was some sort of heaven.

Between the very attractive man behind you easing away the last few months' worth of stress and the constant reminder of his godly hands all over your body, your whole being starts to ache with need. So much so that your legs shake from the way you have to stop them from pressing together.

Your mind wanders on its own and the sound of his breathing is enough to set you off. He gets to a particularly rough spot on your back and you bite your lip hard in order to hide the sexual moan that was about to leave your mouth.

A huff leaves his lips and you’re unsure of what context it's under, though you’re quick to learn that he’s very aware of your body’s reactions to him. He finds it amusing and eggs you on further, moving his hands up to your shoulders and squeezing the flesh there extra tenderly and rubbing circles into the nape of your neck.

You start to wonder if his fingers are also this talented with- “Can you flip over for me?”

“Huh?” His husky voice hits you right in your pussy and it takes a moment to process what he says. He tilts his head playfully when you look back at him and repeats himself again, eyes staring into your soul as he does so. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded slowly, waiting for him to turn around to flip your body.

Once you give him the ok, he turns back around to you and meets your eyes, smiling sweetly as he moves to stand over you. He wastes no time and sets his hands on your legs, working his way up slowly but surely as he continues his job and his goal.

And that goal would be exactly what led his hands to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there even after he had worked his way through all the knots. He smiles to himself when your eyes squeeze shut and your legs shake with that movement, so he does it again. This time much higher up on your thigh.

Your legs finally squeeze shut, trapping his hands between your legs and you gasp. He laughs to himself when you spit out an apology and shakes his head, rubbing your thigh with his thumb as he keeps his hands where they are, even after you release them.

“Is this ok?” He stares into your eyes and waits patiently for a response, not daring to make any more moves while he waits. You think for a moment as you stare back into his eyes and eventually nod, spreading your legs just the slightest bit more and waiting for him to make his next move.

He throws you a sexy smirk and proceeds with his movements, now growing bold enough to slip them over the small towel that covers your lower half. One of his long fingers traces around your hole, dipping in just the tiniest amount, and pulls back out to trace your clit with your wetness.

“So wet already.” He chuckles and leans forward, planting his free hand by your face as he leans in to kiss your cheek. As he does, he inserts his finger inside of you. It moves around expertly, curving just slightly into your walls looking for your G-spot, and thrusting at a speed that was too slow and just enough at the same time.

“Please, more…” You whine and squirm, looking up at him under your lashes with puppy eyes in hopes that it would convince him. But he doesn’t need much convincing when you look so pretty below him. So he listens immediately and inserts a second finger.

They work in tandem to build you up, finally finding your G-spot and curling into it repeatedly while now moving at a faster pace, one that’s less torturous but still doesn’t feel like enough. You spread your legs further apart and lean up to rest on your elbows, your forehead almost knocking his in the process.

He laughs under his breath at your eagerness and continues his ministrations as he holds eye contact with you, eyes dark and a sexy smile on his face. Your desperateness is adorable to him and he can’t help but give in, adding a third finger while keeping up his pace.

“What got you so riled up, Angel?” He tilts his head at you and leans forward more, pushing his forehead against yours. You moan desperately and grind your hips forward, sucking his fingers in even deeper. “Answer me and I’ll give you everything you want.” You look up at him from under your eyelashes and clench at the lust-dripping look he gives you.

“I just think your hands and your fingers are really pretty…” One of his eyebrows perks up in curiosity before a giant grin spreads across his face.

“Yeah?” His voice drops a few octaves and his biceps flex as he shoves his fingers into the knuckles. “These fingers?” He punctuates his sentence with a tight curl of his fingers against your G-spot and your eyes roll into the back of your head. He watches with a smile as you throw your head back and your jaw slacks. He leans forward and takes advantage of the new space, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck.

He’s careful not to leave marks as he does so, even pulling away sometimes to coo in your ear and tell you to keep your eyes on his hand or else he’ll stop. And you obey, eyes glued to his wrist and watching the way his veins pop out each time he curls his fingers. It makes you clench more around him and you can feel your orgasm building up even faster now.

“You wanna cum, Angel?” His deep voice makes your jaw drop and your leg attempt to twitch closed. His smile never falters but he tsks when you don’t answer the question. He bottoms out his fingers all the way and stops all movements, eyes glued to yours as he repeats his question. 

“Y-Yes! I wanna cum, please-” His fingers pick up their pace immediately and he fixes his posture, freeing up his left hand in favor of reaching between your legs. His thumb messily plays with your clit as he fingerfucks you and you keen.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel, your gummy walls sucking him in further and your clit throbbing as you finish with a loud moan of his name. He chuckles and removes his thumb, moving his hand up to your mouth and shoving his thumb into your cheek.

“Shhhh… We don’t want anybody getting suspicious, do we?” You don’t bother replying. Instead, you throw your head back and grind your hips forward as he continues to ride out your orgasm. Once your legs start to close around his torso, he eases his fingers out of you, reveling in the way they shimmer from your release.

His touch leaves you completely as his hand rests on his upper thigh, the other one moving up to his face where he sucks his pointer finger clean. You watch through fluttering eyelids as he closes his eyes and moans around his finger, even going as far as to make an obscene smacking noise as he releases it.

Your eyes meet again and he smiles before licking his lips and tilting his head at you. “Be good and open your mouth for me.” You comply in an instant and his lip twitches, he has to bite his lip to hide his smirk.

He holds eye contact with you as he reaches forward. Once his hand is close enough, his eyes move down to watch his middle and ring finger tracing the outline of your lips. The sight of him paints your lips with your own release, giving you makeshift lip gloss if you will, makes him bite his lip.

Butterflies grow in your stomach at the sight and you take it a step further; leaning in, grabbing his wrist, and wrapping your lips around those same fingers. His smile falters and his eyes look to yours only to be met with an intense stare back. One that drives him absolutely mad and makes his dick twitch in his khakis.

He moans when his fingertips hit your throat and he feels his control leaving his body. A quiet curse leaves his mouth as he pulls his hand away from you, using the now “clean” hand to wrap around your throat as the other pops open the button on his pants.

“You’re so fucking hot- I need to be inside of you right now or else I’ll die.” You let out a giggle that eventually gets interrupted by a moan as he tightens his grip on you. Then again when he spins you and pulls you to the edge of the table before tapping his cock against your folds.

“Prettiest Angel I’ve ever seen… Gonna make you mine, baby. You want that?” You open your mouth to respond and he pushes his tip in at the same time, hand squeezing just the slightest amount more as he pushes inch by inch in.

He’s long and it feels like he’s in your guts when he finally bottoms out, his balls resting flat against your ass. The hand around your throat finally loosens its hold and you gasp for air, head throbbing as you catch your breath.

“H-Hyunjin…”

“Angel- You okay?” You nod and he simply hums in response leaning forward and unintentionally spreading your legs further so he can push his lips against yours. Almost instinctively you open your mouth for him and you can’t hold back a moan when his tongue pushes in.

He takes his time kissing you, allowing you some time to adjust to his size as he slowly grinds his hips against yours. His hands caress your arms soothingly before one rests on your neck, not quite squeezing but just resting there. The other traces your body, moving from your arm down your waist before finally stopping at your hips where he squeezes the flesh appreciatively. 

He squeezes one more time before planting his hand on the table next to your ass and reluctantly pulls away from your lips. Your own hands rest on his shoulders and your nails dig into his soft skin as he starts moving his hips.

“Give it to me, please” He moans and rolls his head back, hips stuttering as he processes what you’re requesting. He sighs deeply and sharply thrusts into you before shaking his head.

“Mm-mm… I’ll fuck your brains out next time. Just relax, Angel. I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.” You whine loudly and pout up at him but nod your head when the hand on your neck cups your cheek.

His lips push against yours again as he caresses your cheek, and when he pulls away a smile paints his features. He can’t deny you when you look up at him so desperately, so he allows some leeway. His hips start moving, not as slowly as he wanted but just enough to make you shiver deliciously.

He fucks into you with sharp, yet thorough thrusts all while having the cutest smile on his face. And contrary to his facial expression, he’s mixing your guts around each time his hips meet yours, and his hand returns to your neck where it rips the air out of your lungs.

Quiet, breathy gasps leave your mouth as he fucks you silly, not even needing to pound you roughly to make you see stars. It makes you dizzy as you briefly think about this “next time” he speaks about. If this isn’t him fucking you dumb then you can’t wait to see what he has in store for you.

But none of that matters now. Not when he uses the hold on your neck to push you down onto the table. He has to release you to do so and traces his hand up your torso right after. The towel on your chest is long gone, half hanging off the table as it squeaks from his movements, and gives him free reign to rub your nipples softly.

Then his hand moves back up to your neck, this time only ghosting over it before you hear a choked command to “Open.” You do open your lips, but it’s only to ask what he means. However, you don’t get that far.

The same fingers you sucked clean minutes ago thrust suddenly into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue and making you gag. He laughs and apologizes, pulling them out just enough to not cause you to gag again.

He licks his lips as you suck the digits, swirling your tongue around them in a way he can only imagine you would do to his cock. The imagery of that alone is enough to push him closer to the edge, so he drags you to your own with him.

“Cum for me again- ok, Angel?” The fingers in your mouth pull out and rush to your clit where he rubs back and forth furiously. “Cum for me and we can get out of here.” He forces a smile through your tight cunt’s incessant sucking of him and quickens his thrusts.

Although sloppy and not as calculated as before, he manages to push you to cum alongside him, both his hips and his hands faltering as you milk him dry. He cums with a pretty moan, face scrunching up in pleasure and his still-clothed body shaking through it.

You’re not faring any better, your own face scrunched up and your body twitching from the overstimulation that starts to wrack through your body. You’re lucky he pulls away when he did because your body starts to tremble as he uses you to ride his orgasm out.

“You okay?” He’s still catching his breath but he pulls out and leans forward, his softening cock resting against your thigh as he places kisses all over your collarbone.

“Mhm…” You're not sure if you are even on the same planet as you were an hour ago, but he seems to be taking care of it as he helps you come down. His hands caressing your sides all over and his lips only leaving your skin to move to a new spot.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah? My shift was supposed to end once this… ‘massage’ was over, so let me treat you.” He giggles at your mindless nod and cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb as he waits for you to come down.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

[waldau-archived]

the most handsome man in the world — seventeen | 1,165 words | fluff

i just needed to get this out of my system okay

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

premise: you tell your boyfriend you've seen a guy you consider to be the most handsome man in the world, wait for him to react, and then show him a picture of him that you took. you know, because he's the most handsome man in the world.

seungcheol

what do you mean you’ve seen a guy more handsome than him? isn’t he broad enough to fill up your entire line of vision? pouts at you cooing over said man on your phone till you hit a little nerve by saying the guy looks like he’d be so good to cuddle with that he immediately marches over to see who you’re giggling over. only to find his face staring back at him. immediately wipes off his frown and tickles you for having done something like that.

jeonghan

is aware that this has to be one of your traps where you want to draw a reaction out of him, so he holds out on giving any commentary for however long he can. it’s only when you roll over in bed, clutching your phone to your chest does he finally break, sneakily pulling you into himself so he can see who you’re talking about. it’s him, of course. had no doubt it would be him but he had to confirm. becomes the big spoon for the rest of the night.

joshua

you don’t ever bring up other people or their attractiveness in conversations, so joshua is mildly interested in hearing if you’re going to elaborate on this guy. doesn’t even consider said person to be a threat till you say something about this guy looking reliable enough to imagine a future with. his curiosity wins and he leans over to see his face lighting up your screen. gives you a kiss to remind you he’s going to fulfill that dream one day.

junhui

is torn between wanting to know who this person is and also not wanting to know because…do you actually find another guy more attractive than him? didn’t you say he’s the most handsome person you know? keeps to himself till you run up to him and show him your phone, only for him to see a picture he’d sent you when he’d been working out at the gym. makes sure to take some more photos for you.

soonyoung

laughs. oh, yeah? really? but then it turns out you’re not joking, because you’re blushing over someone he doesn’t even know? and you’re not telling him about it? chases you around the house to sneak a peek at your phone and collapses into a blushing mess when he realizes it’s him you’re talking about. gives you bear hugs and forces you to cuddle with him for a while to make up for the stress you caused him.

wonwoo

raises an eyebrow when he hears you talking about this really handsome guy you saw in the queue at the cafe today. gets curious the more you talk about him; how didn’t he notice this guy when you did? traps you in place against the wall to see who you’re talking about and can’t help but smirk when he sees it’s himself. gives you a smug kiss and tells you he wants to hear more about what you think of this guy.

jihoon

hears you, nods, focuses his attention back to the song he’s working on and wonders if it could use some more bass. it’s only when he’s about to finalize the song does he realize you were talking about…someone else? spins around to see you lounging on the couch and asks who you were talking about because he wants to jog his memory. feels slightly satisfied when he sees a picture of himself. so he did hear you right. he didn’t.

seokmin

he’s more curious about who you consider to be hot apart from him, more than the fact that this other guy could be a threat to him. indulges in you talking about this guy and theorizes about who it could be till you finally just show him who you were talking about because he apparently couldn’t get a hint. oh. it’s him. he blinks. almost squeals. peppers your face with kisses because his mind is all blank except for you.

mingyu

pouts. becomes a grumpy baby. even if you’ve seen someone more handsome than him (which is impossible, by the way), do you have to rub it in his face? feels more antsy the longer you talk to him about this guy. pulls the puppy face till you show him who you’re looking at. seeing his face on your screen is the last thing he expected, somehow. feels relieved for a few seconds before he makes you promise never to scare him again like that. takes payment in the form of cuddles.

minghao

another one who knows this is one of your ideas to get him to react some way. nods along and even says oh, really? when you tell him about how handsome this guy is, and how you feel kind of shy when you just think about him. doesn’t even need to look at your phone to know there’s no one else you’re talking about, so he tilts your chin to make you face him and presses a kiss to your lips, asking you if that’d help make you less shy.

seungkwan

you’re seriously talking about another guy? right now? stares at you in disbelief, at the fact that you’d do this after he spent his morning making you breakfast and cuddling with you because you seemed a bit exhausted. he’s sure he’s stared enough to burn a hole through your head. you roll over with a laugh and show him who you were looking at. it’s his own self bent over the stove, trying to figure out how to switch it on. pouts and doesn’t face you till you lure him with kisses.

vernon

overhears you talking on the phone with your friend about this handsome guy you saw while you were out on a walk today evening. you don’t stop talking about how he looked at you, how nice his smile was, and how good he looked against the setting sun. his brain runs in loops trying to figure out which guy looked at you like that while your hand was in his. opens his phone to see some pictures you’d taken of him, with the sun setting in the back. smiles and presses a kiss to your head when you’re done with your call.

chan

instantly competitive. him being drunk doesn’t change the fact that he’s the most handsome man in the world. struggles to pull himself out of your embrace to see who you’re talking about so he can give both of you a piece of his mind, only to find a picture of himself smiling goofily at the camera. that’s me, he says, mind a bit slow. where’s the guy you were talking about? turns out he’s the one you’re talking about. snuggles back into you like nothing was ever wrong.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

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

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

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

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

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

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

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

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

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

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

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

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

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

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

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

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

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

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

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

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

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

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

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

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

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

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

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

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

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

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

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

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

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

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

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

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

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

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

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

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

[hoe4hotchner]

I know you are probably so tired of this but I NEED more smoker Hotch, I do know why but the pure thought of Aaron Hotchner smoking just does something to me, I also wanted to say thank you so much for all that you do for the Aaron hotchner fan base and even the criminal minds fandom ❤️

Bad habits | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Smoking cigarettes

A/N: I'm never tired of getting requests (cause let's be honest smoker!hotch is too hot for his own good) Thank you so much for the kind words. It means a lot to hear. 💕💕💕

The first time you caught Aaron smoking, it was in his garage, out of all places. He leaned against the back wall, one foot propped up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow from the overhead bulb cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching. This was Aaron Hotchner, your steadfast, composed partner. The man who was usually all discipline, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever letting it show. And yet, here he was, indulging in what could only be described as a private ritual.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, breaking the silence. “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. His expression didn’t shift much, but you could tell you’d caught him off guard. The hand holding the cigarette hovered near his side like he wasn’t sure whether to hide it or finish it.

“It’s... occasional,” he said after a pause, his voice gravelly, almost sheepish. “Stress, mostly.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the garage. “Stress? Really? You expect me to believe this is a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think I have a habit?”

“Oh, I know you do,” you shot back, your tone teasing. “You’ve clearly done this before. What, do you sneak out here after bad cases? After long nights at work?” You'd meant it as a joke, but deep down, you knew that some of it probably held truth to it.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, the tendrils curling lazily. “Something like that.”

You moved closer, the faint scent of smoke mixed with the familiar aroma of the garage. It should’ve been off-putting, but there was something about the way the cigarette looked in his hand that made your pulse quicken.

“You know, it’s terrible for you,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him.

His lips quirked into a smile, closing his eyes for a split second, more amusement than apology. “So I’ve heard.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You couldn’t stop watching him — the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his jaw tightened as he brought it to his lips, and the way the soft glow of the embers lit his face up with each inhale.

It shouldn’t have been attractive. But it was.

“You’re staring,” Aaron said, breaking the spell.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Am not.”

“You are,” he replied. He held the cigarette out to you, his eyes studying your reaction. “Want to try?”

You frowned, narrowing your eyes. “Is this how you justify it? Getting me to join in so you feel less guilty?”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “Maybe.”

Your lips twitched as you took the cigarette from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. The contact was brief but electric, and you had to steel yourself against the flutter it sent through your chest.

The cigarette felt foreign between your fingers, and you glanced at Aaron for guidance. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding.

“Breathe in slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Not too deep. It’ll burn if you’re not used to it.”

You followed his instructions, the taste sharp and smoky as it filled your lungs. It wasn’t pleasant — not really — but the way Aaron watched you, his gaze steady and just a little amused, made the moment strangely intimate.

When you exhaled, you handed the cigarette back to him, coughing slightly. “That’s disgusting.”

Aaron chuckled softly. “I didn’t say it was enjoyable.”

“Then why do it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He took one last drag, his eyes distant for a moment before killing the cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to him. “Because sometimes,” he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s the only thing that helps.”

Your heart twisted at the admission. He didn’t have to say what it was — you knew fully well what he meant, and you admired him for taking on that burden.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. “You know you don’t have to carry everything alone, right?”

“I know.”

And maybe he did. But as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple, you made a silent vow to remind him as often as he needed.

[ddejavvu]

Hi, i hope youre doing well ☺️

Could i request another part to animagus cat reader where reader cuddles with Remus during winter instead of Sirius because its cold and he runs warmer?? Like he'll be in the common room reading in an arm chair while reader catnaps on his lap while being pet and Sirius tells him to stop stealing his gf and James is jealous/whiny that he doesnt get to have cat snuggles.

part 1 / part 2

--

Despite the two blankets layered in an inviting nest on Sirius's lap, Remus is the warmest person in the room. The fire crackes on its logs, offering scorching heat, but what you seek is gentle warmth, and you've found it between Remus's sweater and his undershirt. You're splayed over his chest much like a baby would be, your paws stretched out against his shoulders and your head pressed face-first into his chest. His sweater is tight enough that it holds you in place, and you don't have to worry about falling. It means that you're able to fully relax, and Sirius can hear your rampant purring from where he sits on the couch with a sour scowl on his face.

"If you just wore warmer clothes, you wouldn't be pissy right now," Remus muses, not bothering to grace the man with a glance away from his novel, "She only likes me 'cause my sweater is warm."

That's not entirely true. While Remus does tend to dress for comfort, and Sirius for style, Remus runs naturally hotter than your boyfriend. You don't have the heart to tell him that, though, so you mewl in agreement to Remus's statement.

"Sweaters are dumb," Sirius spits, and no one bothers to mention that he has a small collection of them for the snowy days on the grounds, "I look better in leather."

"Your loss," Remus shrugs, and to add insult to injury, reaches up to scratch a spot behind your ears that only makes your purring louder.

"This is bullshit," Sirius finally huffs, breaking his facade of gloomy indifference, "Prongs, get over here."

James, all too eager to help out his friend and soak up affection to boot, has no problem tipping over sideways to lay in Sirius's lap.

But the man lifts James's head out of his lap by his curls, "No, no, no, not James. Prongs."

"You want me to-?" James asks, but doesn't dare finish, because the prospect of transforming right in the common room sends a shiver of mischief down his spine that he'd be a fool to question, "On it."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," Sirius nods, sneering haughtily at Remus, "You're not the only one that's good for a cuddle, Moony. Look at this," He gushes, as James begins his transformation, skin giving way to tight, short fur and enormous antlers that nearly grate against the stone walls around you.

"Oh, he's a perfect fit." Remus nods resignedly, content to continue rubbing at your ears rather than chastise his friends for trying to fit a stag on a loveseat, "Yeah, that'll work nicely- ooh, careful Sirius, almost got stabbed there."

Sirius dodges a prong off of James's antlers, taking them in his hands and holding James's head steady as the oversized buck folds his knobbly knees into Sirius's lap. The back two can't make it, but James fits them clumsily onto the cushion, maintaining his balance out of dramatic willpower rather than the laws of physics.

You decide once they settle that they're no longer in need of your attention, so you turn your head back towards Remus and burrow your face back into his warm chest. You feel it shake with mirth beneath you, presumably at an overdramatized reaction from the two boys opposite you, but you can't bring yourself to care; sleep is at the forefront of your brain in this form.

"Yeah, get real cozy!" Sirius insists, calling so that you can hear him through Remus's thick sweater and beneath the weight of his hand on your ears, "Whatever! We're cozy over here, too, 'never been more comfortable- ah! Prongs, watch the hooves!"

[gay-dorito-dust]

Master list 2

Gravity Falls (more to add soon)

Reader trying to confess to Ford w/ Mabel’s help - part two

Kissing Ford/ Stanley

Stan/ford reaction to reader smoking weed as a form of destress

Reader and Ford laying in bed together (not sexual)

Being Ford’s controversially younger s/o in their 20’s

Demon reader who use to work for bill becomes good

Ford gets sick/injured and is stubborn about it

Stealing mullet!stan’s jacket and Ford’s trench coat

Ford w/ a partner who acts like they’re still crushing on him no matter what he does

Bill chiper sick fic

Stan/Ford and why they love to call you their wife/husband/ spouse

Ford w/ a crush who’s obsessed with his hands

Bill cipher’s current obsession being in a love triangle with Ford and Stanley

Reader who’s sick/ injured w/ Ford

Bill cipher w/ a kaidou! Reader

Stanley’s s/o gets stuck in the portal instead of Ford - part two where reader comes home

Demon reader who visits bill in theraprism

Ford kissing reader after coming back from the portal

More kissing Ford cuz I wanna kiss that senior citizen

Reader goes into the portal with Ford

Fellas grab your ladies, if your lady fine trend w/ Ford by Mabel

Teaching Ford to kiss/ being his first kiss drab

God! Reader who’s seen timelines where the kids die, and protects them, only to break down in front of Ford and Stan about it

Ford comes back, only to be told that reader is dead

Ford missing his s/o while in the multiverse

They’re my boyfriend/ husband actually w/ Ford/ Stan

Bill/ Stanford with a clumsy s/o

Reader comforting bill

Reader being Ford’s assistant and being fake married to Stanley, only to find out that they actually like him romantically - part two

Reader being Stan and Ford’s childhood friend who they fall for when older

Reader being Ford’s s/o and their relationship with Stan, dipper and Mabel

Domestic Ford hdc

Stan/ Ford being told by bill that reader dies in every universe including theirs

Platonic Stan and Reader

Ford in dimension 52 missing reader

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ W/ Stan/ Ford

Being sort of friends w: bill cipher

Bill doing readers makeup

Baby bill

Dad! Stanford

Stanford and reader taking a nap

Dad! Stanley

Ford drab

Bill and reader and then destroying the portal

Bill getting princess treatment

Bill bakes w/ reader

Ford protecting reader, even if it means pushing them away and cutting contact due to threats from bill about harming them while possessing him

Ford fluff drab

Ford reacting to reader wearing his turtleneck for the first time (aka me going feral over a senior citizen by insinuating that reader isn’t wearing anything underneath the turtleneck cuz I wish it was me)

Controversial young s/o things w/Ford and Stanley

Reader reacting to Stanley loosing his memories after Weirdmagedon

Stanley looses his spouse again

Rainy day cuddles w/ Ford/Stanley

Stan and Ford being saved by reader

The pines family meeting reader who pops out of a portal in the middle of their living room.

Ford drop kicks a gnome (not clickbait)

Reader possessed by bill pushed Ford into the portal, but is told by Ford to get out of his house upon his return.

Part two; bill tells all

Ghost! Reader

Reader who knows the equation offers themselves to Bill, asking him to leave the twins and people of gravity falls alone while condemning Stan and Ford to whatever punishment he could think of

Alternative: reader joins Bill after reader is kicked out of the shack by Ford

Reader erases their memory of the pines family after getting kicked out/ Weirdmagedon and can’t recall their memories because they didn’t have enough to help jog them

Reader tells Stan that without them, he’d be a lonely old man

Stan and reader try to domesticate a raccoon and call him bandit

Ghost reader during Halloween

Stanford tried to read but reader is feeling affectionate

Percy Jackson

Luke fluff

Percy and reader who is the child of the god of dreams

Luke and reader sneaking out of the cabins to cuddle and kiss

Percy being a bro

Luke Drabble

It’s rotten work/ not to me w/ Luke

DC (Batfam) (more to add soon)

Jason/ dick with a reader who distance themselves from them upon realising they have feelings due to abandonment issues

Batfam w/ reader who hides their hurt from them

Damian fluff

Jason wanting his s/o’s attention cuz they’re being less affectionate as of late

Batboys forgetting to kiss their s/o after patrol

Ignoring batboys as a prank

‘My boyfriend doesn’t love me anymore’ w/ Jason and dick

Jason/ dick chilling with their s/o, only for their brothers to come in and see them for the first time

Batboys w/ shy s/o trying to hold their hand first but getting flustered

Batboys reaction to their s/o saying their full name

Dick/ Jason getting jealous over shirtless Hugh jackman scene in dp & wolverine

Jason gets stuffed animals as gifts from his s/o

Dick and Jason’s crush telling them that they know their vigilantes when healing their wounds

Batboys reacting to reader being in hospital

Jason w/ an author! S/o

Jason meeting his s/o who died with him again after so long

Jason/ dick reaction to their crush asking them while they’re in vigilante form if they’ve seen them (Jason/dick) and being worried.

Dick called reader a good girl (fem reader coded)

Another Damian scenario

Damian meeting his brothers s/o

Jason w/ a s/o who loves to compliment him, even in their sleep

Jason head cannons

Bat fam nightmare comfort

Batfam w/ a reader who zones out but doesn’t tell them why they’re smiling and or frowning

Batfam w/ a reader who loves to give them spontaneous hugs

Dick being dramatic cuz reader called him rich and not dick or Dickie bird or boy wonder

[homemadesterekpie]

im forever obsessed with the idea of Stiles and Derek being together in secret. not because they’re actively hiding it but more because their respective lives can’t seem to merge together.

Stiles is still in school trying to keep his grades up and keep up appearances of the imperfect/perfect son with his dad while Derek is living in the burnt out shell of his childhood home like some kind of depressing episode of bushcraft camping.

they’re both damaged and somehow they’re the only ones who can see that about eachother.

they save eachother’s lives one too many times and it ends up with Stiles giving Derek his virginity and his entire heart in the process while Derek’s entire fucking soul howls for Stiles. he wants to mark him and to claim him and to keep and hide him forever so they’ll both be safe.

but Stiles only stays the night in Derek’s burnt out den when his dad works the graveyard shift and reluctantly leaves in the early hours of the morning to go home to get ready for school.

it gets harder and harder for Stiles to leave every time he spends time with Derek. he’s not sure what it means about him that he’d rather stay with Derek in this broken haunted place.

he just knows that at least here he feels alive and he doesn’t have to pretend, he can just be who he is or at least who he’s become. this needy wanton thing that seem to never be satisfied with what Derek is willing to give him. Derek gives him an inch and Stiles wants a mile but somehow Derek indulges him every single time. and when they’re both close so close they both whisper promises to eachother they aren’t even sure they’ll be able to keep but it doesn’t matter. what matters is that after when Derek’s head is pillowed on Stiles’ chest, the both of them breathing hard with Stiles’ fingers playing with Derek’s dark hair, they both know the truth.

they’ll never be able to stop whatever this is.

Stiles can’t sleep alone anymore, his own bed feeling foreign. he can barely keep up with conversations that aren’t Derek’s words, his mind always drifting to the wolf and wondering where he is, what he’s doing, should he go see him on his lunch break?

Derek roams the woods at all hours whenever Stiles isn’t with him. he starts following him to school, to his house, to the god damn grocery store just to watch him.

somehow no one truly notices how reclusive they both become until it’s too late. they’re in way too deep and there’s no going back.

when people finally realize/find out about them they’re too codependent and entwined with eachother to even care about the reactions.

Stiles’ dad kind of blows a gasket because how the fuck did he not see it? does he even know his son at all? meanwhile, Scott has a one sided screaming match while Stiles looks at nothing.

the sheriff visits Derek at the shell of his home and confronts him. Derek’s face is hard and closed off the entire time but he acknowledges that him and Stiles have something. but he also knows how hollow Stiles truly feels from the neglect the sheriff imposed upon Stiles when his mom died and that’s not something Derek is inclined to forgive and he also knows this isn’t his place to tell. Stiles will tell his father what and when he wants to share. so he tells the sheriff to go talk to his son.

the sheriff looks absolutely distraught at that because he realizes he doesn’t even know how. Stiles have slipped through his fingers and become this unreachable being. he isn’t the person Stiles trusts anymore. the strange man living in the woods standing in front of him has more claim to his son than his own father does at this point.

a few hours later, Stiles drives up the long dirt path to Derek but this time he has a packed duffel bag with him and his eyes are red and puffy. Derek just takes the bag from him and takes his hand and pulls him to the mattress they use as a bed. they lie down and Derek holds him as he cries.

he’s not going back home. he doesn’t want to go back home anymore. he’s graduating in a couple weeks he doesn’t have to go home. can he stay here? please Derek can i stay here with you please please? Derek just kisses him softly in response because even if he wanted to he could never say no to Stiles, not when he’s like this, so fragile and on the verge of breaking completely.

Stiles sleeps better that night than he has in months. he graduates. he doesn’t apply to college but he’ll think about it next year. for now, him and Derek are busy building themselves a cabin with a huge garden. they work during the day at their own pace and at night they make love.

all in all it’s good, it’s peaceful and it’s more than enough.

[newtkive]

confectionary clash - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)

summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!

as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.

that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.

carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.

on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.

richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.

richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.

now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.

it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.

except on days like this.

you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.

upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.

“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.

you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.

“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.

“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.

“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.

a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.

as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.

richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.

a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.

“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.

__

in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.

"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.

"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.

“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.

your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.

richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.

richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.

“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.

richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.

“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.

however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.

with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.

outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.

the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.

turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.

throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.

“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”

“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“

“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”

“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.

carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”

an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”

“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.

“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.

you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind

“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.

a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.

the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.

“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”

“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.

your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.

carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.

“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.

“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.

“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.

nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.

it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.

you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.

with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.

you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”

the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.

thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.

“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.

[blughxreader]

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

[freedomfireflies]

Reckless*

Summary: The third part to Knockout*

The one where Harry secretly gets paid to fight, but you're the one paying the price.

Word Count: 9.2k (...no comment)

Content Warning: 18+, violence, mentions of an abusive ex, mentions of blood, smut

Harry’s fist instantly snaps closed around your hand, subtly but pointedly tugging you back. Seeming to want to put a bit of space between you and the man standing before you.

“Oh, do you…know each other?” you ask slowly, glancing between the two rather curiously.

Jesse offers nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow, redirecting his attention back to Harry as though encouraging him to respond.

Harry merely grits his teeth. “We used to. Long time ago.”

It’s hardly an answer, somehow just as frustratingly vague as you expected, yet you nod, nevertheless. “Ah. I see.”

Jesse’s smile somehow stretches a bit bigger. “Are you working today?”

“Uh, no. Just…came by for the keys,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other almost nervously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d…maybe stick around a bit? Catch up?”

Harry’s grip gets stronger.

“Besides, today’s pie is apple, yeah?” he asks. “You know it’s my favorite.”

You force a tight-lipped grin and a hum of acknowledgement before the three of you fall silent. Continuing to stand by the door to the diner as the rest of the room continues on with their lunch. Their soft murmurs and clinging cutlery like white noise in the background of the conversation. 

You clear your throat. “Okay, well…I’m gonna…I’m gonna tell him goodbye, and—”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Jesse says, waving you away before returning to the counter. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

The last word has hardly left his mouth when Harry suddenly spins on his heel and drags you back through the door. Pulling you into the parking lot without so much as a goodbye before leading you around the side of the building.

“Harry,” you murmur hesitantly, almost cautious of his rather silent reaction. In the little time you’ve known him, you’ve never known him to be this quiet when he’s upset. Or this well behaved. “What’s wrong, what is it?”

He continues his furious stride until he’s brought you both into the alley. Releasing you in order to run a hand through his hair with a strained, “Fuck.”

You slow to a stop and stare at his tensed back. “Harry?”

A long pause. Deafening and loud enough to lodge your heart in your throat.

Finally, “How do you know him?”

“What?”

“Fucking Jesse, how do you know him?” he repeats, somewhat viciously.

Your head tilts. “We…I mean we’re friends, but we…we used to date. For a while. Couple years ago. Why?”

He turns, and the pinching of his features together makes your stomach twist. “Was it him?”

“…Harry—”

“Was it…him?” His eyes flick to yours. “The one you fucking told me about. The one who treated you like shit, the one who fucking threw things at you. Was it him?”

You’re almost surprised he remembered. After all, the revelation of your last relationship had been quite a while ago. An off-handed comment made one stormy night as you sat together in his favorite booth, talking about the past and exchanging odd traumas.

But he does. He remembers. And he’s looking at you like your answer is going to break his heart. 

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your chest. “Yes.”

Your voice is small. Timid and weak, nearly carried away with the wind. But it reaches him, nevertheless, and his expression guts you.

He steps back. Trying to get away, either from you or your admission. The truth he can no longer stand to be so close to.

“Why?” he whispers, and your lashes flutter. “Why did you…why would you keep him in your fucking life after he…”

You offer him the same answer you’ve offered everyone else. “I don’t know.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and takes another step. Glancing over your face as if searching for more than you have to give. “Cherry…”

“I know.” You can feel the tears already working their way to your waterline. “I know, but he’s…he’s trying to do better. He’s trying to change—”

“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets almost vengefully. “No, that’s bullshit. He’s not…guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding it.”

Maybe he’s right. But it stings to hear. “I…yeah. I know. But we’re just…we’re friends. We don’t talk a lot, just when he needs help.”

“So he uses you?”

“No, he…” You hesitate. “I don’t know. I don’t think he means to—”

His vile scoff cuts through the rest of your excuse, and perhaps it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, fingers itching to reach for him. You feel naked without his body against yours. “I should have…I should have warned you. Or told you, I just…I didn’t think—”

“Are you safe?”

You stop. “What?”

“Are you safe?” he repeats, a tad softer. “When he’s around you, do you feel safe? Do you know that you’re safe, and that he won’t…that you can leave? If you need to?”

 You consider this for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes. He’s never…it’s never been like that. He’s just…he gets very angry. And sad. And I think…a part of me wants to help, I guess.”

His expression drops ever-so-slightly, as if wounded. “I know, Cher.” He moves closer to you once again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. He places his palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb beneath your eye. Wiping away the first tear. “You always give your kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”

 You take hold of his wrist and bite back a sigh. “Everybody deserves kindness.”

“Maybe.” His voice is quiet. Labored and thick. “But maybe you deserve it more.”

There’s something…heavy in the way he speaks. In the way he feels. As though he’s carrying the entire weight of his world – and yours – on his shoulders. 

You know there’s more to the story. More to this anger that’s so prominent in his heart and more to his background with Jesse. You want to ask, want to understand.

But if he wanted you to know, he would have offered.

Maybe he thinks he’s sparing you. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you in the only way he can, and you feel grateful for him. Grateful for this subtle, unspoken act of intimacy and protection that you’ve become so familiar with in the time you’ve known your handsome stranger.

You choose to have faith in him. In what brought you to him.

“I have to go,” he says now, dipping down to brush his forehead to yours. “Cause if I don’t, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You smile to yourself, but a part of you knows he means it. “Okay. Will I see you again?”

His other hand slips around the back of your neck, keeping you close before he exhales a shaky breath and brings his lips to yours. Kissing you hard and with a thousand unspoken promises. “Of course. M’never gonna leave you, sweet girl. Swear it.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You kiss him until you can’t breathe, clinging to his hoodie as if begging with him to stay. To keep himself close to you.

And when he eventually pulls away, you nearly crumple to the ground.

“Okay,” he whispers, reaching back to slip his hood on. “Okay, I gotta go. Or I’ll never leave.”

You touch your fingers to your lips and nod once. “I know. Just come back, okay?”

He grins, and it’s wickedly delicious. “Always.”

With that, he turns around, and disappears down the alley. Rounding the corner of the building before disappearing from sight.

Leaving you exactly where he found you, only a few hours ago.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, you make your back into the diner and toward the man still waiting for you.

Jesse has never scared you. Annoyed you, but never scared you. He’s been in your life far longer than you care to admit, ever since you were just kids. And maybe that’s why you keep him around. Because a part of you believes you owe it to the people you used to be.

You loved him. You really did. He was cute, charming, witty. He made you smile, made you laugh. He listened when you talked, said all of the right things. Of course you wanted to believe him when he said he’d do anything to make it work.

His anger had taken him away from you. Had changed who he was. Or perhaps merely highlighted who he’d always been.

He was the one to end things. Claiming he could never offer you the life you deserved. That until he had his temper under control, he couldn’t be with you. You had agreed to remain friends and help him when he lost his way.

He seems to lose his way a lot these days.

And maybe that’s the part that scares you…just a little bit.

“Hey, sugarplum,” he calls once you enter, grinning brighter than he has in weeks. “You all right?”

You nod as you join him near the counter, hands disappearing into your pockets as if to hide. “Mhm. Are you?”

“Absolutely.” He leans over to nudge his elbow against yours. “Feel like it’s been forever.”

“Jess, I saw you last week,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I know, but that was last week,” he argues coyly. “Which is like a lifetime ago.”

And even if there’s a part of you that feels cautious of him, there’s also something so familiar about his company. The sound of his voice, the way he laughs. His effortless ability to remind you of the way things used to be.

Despite how it ended, you can’t help but feel calmed. Your muscles unwinding as you grow a bit more comfortable in his presence.

“Ha, very funny,” you tease, stepping closer as though drawn in by his charm. “Well, if you’re waiting for the apple pie, that’s not until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to come back.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you smirk at each other, and for the first time in days, you don’t feel so on edge.

 “Fine,” you agree. “But you can’t come back to the kitchen with me. Not after last time.”

He pretends to pout, but it only makes you smile. “Oh, come on. Everything was going so well up until the flour incident.”

You reach out and shove his shoulder playfully, and he laughs. “All right, enough. Why are you really here?”

“I told you, I wanna catch up. Clearly I’ve missed a lot.”

The mention of Harry is like a sharp needle to your blissful bubble, popping you free of his spell until you come crashing back to earth. “Right. How, um…how again do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, we don’t. Not really,” Jesse explains, shrugging one shoulder up almost casually. “We used to go to the same gym. Spot each other now and then. But we never really knew each other, I guess.”

“Ah.” 

“Was kind of surprised to see him with you, though,” he adds. “But good surprised. I told him he should come check out the diner, and I’m glad to see he listened."

Harry’s previous mention of how he found you suddenly clicks, and you nod, eyes drifting toward the floor. “Yeah, he…he seems to like it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He seems oddly thrilled by this. “And I guess you two are…?”

The implication brings a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly shake your head as you step back. Almost as though guarding yourself from his question. “Oh, no, we’re…we’re just friends. Or we’re…yeah. Friends.”

His brows furrow but he’s smiling. “Are you…sure about that?”

No. “Yeah. We don’t…we don’t really know each other that well, is all. We just…we like to talk.”

“I see.” He studies you for a moment, somewhat curious. “I’m glad he found something here he likes so well.”

The heat in your face begins to burn. “Yeah, he…he really likes the pies.”

Jesse hums, expression mischievous. “Yes. The pies.”

You force a laugh and nudge him again. “Okay, enough. I should…I should probably get back—”

“Wait,” he interrupts, slipping off the stool in order to get closer, “is there…any chance you’d fancy a drive? Thought we could go around the block a few times like we used to. Just…listen to the radio and people watch.”

Truth be told, the offer is compelling. Because you know if you go home, all you’ll do is worry. About Harry, about Jesse. About all the things you wish you could do for them but can’t. 

Maybe a distraction is what you need. One day where you aren’t expected to fix everybody else’s problems but your own.

So, you nod. Tentatively but with a small grin that makes Jesse’s entire expression light up. 

“Great,” he chuckles before nodding his chin at you. “So…do you want me to drive? Like old times?”

Your answer is to dig back into your pocket for the keys before tossing them over. “Think you already know the answer to that.”

He laughs again and spins the ring around his finger. “Then let’s hit it, sugarplum.”

It’s almost too easy to settle back into your old habits. To follow him to your car, hop inside the passenger seat, and allow him to take you away.

And it’s nice. Comfortable and…safe. Windows down, music loud. The two of you singing along with every bad song that comes on. It really does feel like it used to, and for just one evening, you forget about everything else. And you let yourself just…be.

The two of you drive around the city until the sun goes down. He tells you about his new job at this fancy law firm and you tell him about this new recipe you’re working on for the diner. You talk, and you laugh, and you sing until your stomach hurts. 

You forget. And you’re okay with that.

“Okay,” he finally declares not much later after a quick glance at the clock. “I know you have to get back, but I just have one last thing I want to show you.”

Your brow raises. “Oh? What?”

“A surprise.” He begins to grin, almost wickedly, and it makes you smirk. “It’ll just be a quick little detour, and then I’ll have you home. Promise.”

You consider this for only a moment before sighing. “Fine. But just for the record, I hate your surprises.”

He merely winks before taking a left and leading you both out of town.

The further you go, the darker it gets. This part of the city appears to be rather neglected, with very few lights along the street to guide you. The buildings are rundown and abandoned, there’s police tape over half the doors and boards across half the windows. 

Sketchy would be putting it mildly.

Yet Jesse appears undeterred, swinging into one of the large, unkempt parking lots where a collection of cars are already gathered.

“I don’t…understand,” you begin slowly, glancing around the dark space in search of answers. 

However, instead of answer, he merely puts the car in park, tosses you the keys, and hops out. “You’ll see. Come on.”

Despite your hesitancy, you choose to follow, trailing after him as he begins toward one of the shabby buildings just up ahead. 

There’s a strange sort of itch crawling its way up the back of your neck. Blossoming into your cheeks until you feel a twinge of apprehension.  

But Jesse walks ahead as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Nonchalant and relaxed, leading you to the door.

Then, he knocks twice, stops, and adds three more.

A beat passes before there’s a sharp, electric buzzing. Immediately followed by the sound of something rather heavy before the door suddenly swings open.

Your breath catches.

The inside of this disheveled building is divine. Luxury drips from floor to ceiling, a rather stark contrast to its exterior. There’s fresh paint on the walls, towers of champagne in each corner of the room, and a crowd of men and women dressed to the nines in their most elegant and expensive outfits.

But there’s something off. They’re yelling, and cursing, and cheering. Raising their glasses while shouting at something happening in the middle of the room. 

And that’s when you see him.

Even from this distance, you’d recognize him anywhere. The soft, sweaty curls matted to his forehead. The blood that drips from his mouth and jaw. The tattoos and marks that glisten from his chest – the same tattoos that you saw for the first time only hours ago.

Your stranger. Landing hit after hit to the man standing just opposite him inside the large ring. 

You don’t move. You don’t think you can breathe. You can’t think straight or understand…and then Jesse throws his arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s go have a look, yeah?” It’s posed like a question, but he’s already leading you toward the crowd before you can decide on your answer.

Your heart is in your toes as he slips through the collection of onlookers. Pulling you to the front until you have a near perfect view of the violence happening only a few feet away.

A perfect view of him.

You’re not sure how long he’s been at it. Clearly long enough, if the new cuts and fresh bruises are any indication. He doesn’t seem to notice you, instead throwing his arm toward his opponent before ducking down to miss the strike back. 

You hear yourself gasp as you recoil away from the forceful blow, nearly hiding yourself beneath Jesse’s arm while he laughs.

“What’s the matter, sugarplum?” he hums. “Thought you’d wanna see what your little boytoy gets up to when he’s not with you.”

You can hear it now. The vindictive sneer hidden beneath his charming chuckle. And that uncomfortable itch begins to burn as you pull yourself back in order to see him. “What?”

Jesse nods toward the boxing ring. “You see, when he’s not with you…he’s quite busy. Beautifully and spectacularly fucking me over.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Do you know what this is?” He raises a brow. “Do you know what he really does?”

“He…he fights. He gets paid to fight.”

“Right. And who do you think pays him?”

And that’s when it happens. That’s when the final puzzle piece clicks into place, and you understand. You see the whole picture laid out in front of you, and it wears his face.

“You.” It’s a strained, timid whisper that’s buried beneath the loud, vulgar hollering.

Jesse nods. “Exactly. I pay your boyfriend to beat the shit out of anyone dumb enough to get into that ring with him. And all he has to do…is fucking win.”

The cheering grows louder in your ear as he steps closer. Forcing your attention to split between the two men.

“But I have a problem,” he continues. “You see, Harry can win a fight in his goddamn sleep. He never loses. Ever. That’s why I pay him so much fucking money. That’s why I’m his sponsor.”

Your stomach twists.

“So, imagine my surprise when he suddenly started to lose. Night after night. Over and over. Constantly and consistently losing fights he should have been able to win with his fucking eyes closed.”

There’s something trapped in your throat. The room is spinning, and there’s a ringing in your ear that just won’t quit. 

“And then I find out…he’s fucking throwing them.” His hand finds your hip and he turns you toward the ring. “Every goddamn night, he throws the fight. Because, for some reason, he seems to think that these fights are up to him. He thinks that he gets to decide who wins and who loses.”

He leans down now, lips hovering near your ear while his voice settles into a rather malicious hiss. 

“But the only person that really loses…is me,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t win, then I lose a shit ton of money on him. And I don’t really think that’s fair…do you?”

You suck in a quiet breath right as Harry steps back to avoid a massive swing before landing his own blow just beneath the man’s jaw. 

“So, I wondered. Wondered why the switch. Why he’d suddenly be willing to lose so much money and allow his ass to get kicked into his throat…for nothing.”

He leans back now, and your lashes flutter.

“And then I found him…with you.” He tsks almost teasingly while his head cocks to the side. “Seems my best fighter has found himself distracted. Pussy-whipped by a pretty face that serves him fucking pie. And he thinks that if he throws the fights…he can save you.”

A set of knuckles connect with Harry’s left cheek, sending him stumbling back while you suck in a sharp inhale and turn away.

“So…I want you to watch,” Jesse tells you, snaking an arm around your waist in order to keep you in your spot. “I want you to fucking see what you’ve done to him.”

Your features twist into a fearful grimace as you drag your eyes back to the ring. Watching as Harry swipes the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the blood before surging forward. He swings and it’s a miss. Arm flying over the other man’s shoulder before he’s shoved toward the rope.

He’s losing. A few more strikes to the face and you’re almost sure he’ll pass out.

And you don’t understand. Can’t comprehend any of this. Why Jesse brought you here, why Harry does this to himself, and why you’re somehow a part of it.

They lied. They both did. Harry looked you in the eye and told you he didn’t know Jesse. Even when he knew about…all of this.

Jesse being involved in some sort of illegal fight club doesn’t surprise you. Perhaps it should, and yet, it might be the least surprising thing you’ve learned so far. 

But Jesse being Harry’s sponsor…being the one who pays him to do this to himself, who gambles on Harry’s very life…

Another strike is laid to his jaw, forcing Harry’s head to snap to the side.

And he sees you.

You watch the realization pass over his face in real time. The way his eyes widen and his lips part.

He stumbles back from the blow, catching himself on the ropes before Jesse tightens his hold on your hips…and Harry looks over.

The rage that settles into the lines and details of his features is evident. The way his teeth grit together, the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin, the way his fingers flex by his side.

He must understand why you’re here now and he channels this understanding and rage into his next hit.

He spins to the side, flings his arms around his opponent’s waist, and yanks him down.  Throwing him so hard to the floor, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t break his spine right down the middle.

Half of the crowd cheers while the other half yells in disappointment.

But Jesse merely smirks.

And you realize that this is what he wanted. To use you as a tool in his game. A pawn for his pleasure until Harry’s hand was forced.

Harry rears back only to raise his fist into the air. Over and over, he lands his knuckles to the man’s face. Hit after hit after hit until there’s blood everywhere. Dripping from his knuckles, the man’s nose, his mouth.

He doesn’t stop. Even long after he should, and the man has gone limp. He goes and goes and goes until the referee has to physically step into the ring and drag him back.

And the fight is declared over.

They grab Harry’s wrist and sling it into the air, raising his arm in victory while the room hollers their support. 

Your heart is racing inside your chest, going far too fast, and you feel a rush of blood to your head. Your knees are shaking, and your hands feel clammy, and you can’t breathe and why won’t that ringing in your ear stop?

“This is what he’s good at,” Jesse murmurs to you now, lips ghosting down the shell of your ear. “This is all he’s good for. And he fucking knows it.”

The room begins to disperse while Harry is led out of the ring and into the shadows on the far side of the building. 

Your eyes and your heart go with him.

“So, you’re gonna do what you do best,” Jesse continues. “You’re gonna remind him why he has to fucking win. Because if he throws one more goddamn fight…I’ll fucking kill him myself.”

With that, he releases you, and turns around. Disappearing into the crowd before you can stop him.

You stand there, in the middle of this extravagant room, and you stare at the ring. And the blood stains on the mat. And the shadows that dance across the floor from the chandelier on the ceiling. The collection of empty glasses and empty promises that are scattered about the vast space.

Then, your feet are pulling you toward the door Harry disappeared into. Taking you to him, despite everything else. Because even after all of this, you want to help him. To make sure that he’s okay, and…and fix him. Somehow. 

The door leads to a hallway that leads to what you can only assume is a locker room. It’s empty when you arrive, although you aren’t too surprised. The other fighter was taken to the opposite end of the building, and the people who led Harry away don’t seem to be around.

You hesitate for only a moment, attempting to decipher if you truly feel safe being alone with him after everything you’ve seen in the past 24 hours.

But the answer is obvious.

So, with a deep breath, you brave a step inside. 

The shower is running. Steam already beginning to dance through the air as you pass by the collection of lockers and benches. Looking for any sign of him. Your stranger who perhaps isn’t so strange anymore.

You see his clothes tossed toward the floor. See a trail of scarlet streaks leading you further into the room and toward the showers just around the corner.

And you don’t hesitate now as you step past the wall in order to see him.

He’s standing beneath the stream of water, one hand braced against the wall as he stares down at the floor. Watching the blood disappear down the drain.

And he’s…beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him – all of him – and you feel your breath hitch as you step closer. Allowing your eyes to travel along his tall, tensed frame. From his curls to his thighs and everything in between.

“Harry?”

Your voice snaps his head up, and he turns. Instantly pushing off the wall in order to fully face you. 

“Cherry, you can’t be here,” he breathes, and it’s almost lost beneath the heavy stream of water. “Can’t be in here, it’s not safe—”

But you’re already moving closer, toeing off your shoes and tossing your jacket aside before stepping inside the showers. 

His lashes flutter, the muscles in his stomaching quivering as he leans back. “Cher, I mean it. You can’t…I can’t let you see me like this.”

You step up to him. Ignoring his protests and the water pouring from the ceiling, you step up, you put your arms around his shoulders…and you hold him.

At first, he goes still. Deathly still, almost bracing himself from your touch. Afraid of what it means.  

Then, he settles. Understands that you only want to help, and slumps into your embrace while his face buries into your neck.

You reach up and run your palm down his head. Carding your fingers through the wet curls before squeezing the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

He takes in a sharp inhale, arms snaking around your middle. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. And his voice breaks like the cracks of a sidewalk.

You merely hold him tighter. “But I am.”

And there’s so much to say. So much to understand and question, but right now, he just needs you to hold him. To let him know that it’s okay – that he’s okay.

That you’re not going anywhere.

You stand there for what feels like hours. Until your clothes become soaked, and your fingers begin to prune. But you keep your grip on him tight. Offering nothing more than soft murmurs of, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He’s angry. So very angry, and you can feel it in the way his muscles twitch beneath your hands. Can hear it in the shallow breaths he takes and the clenching of his jaw. 

He’s trying to keep himself together. For you. But he’s moments away from slipping, and you can only hope you’ll be able to bring him back.

“Harry?” you whisper, scratching your nails down his bare shoulder.

His head shakes. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”

“Har—”

“No.” He leans back, lip curled up into a snarl. “No, I can’t…I fucking can’t—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrists to keep him close. “Okay, I understand—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says for the third time. “You aren’t supposed to be here, and I can’t fucking believe he brought you.”

“I know. I know, but I’m okay. It’s okay, I promise—”

“What did he say?” His eyes flick between yours. “What did he say to you?”

You feel your insides twist as you squeeze his hands. Taking a moment to find the right words. “He…he wanted me to see what you really do. And…to tell you that you have to win.”

His brows stitch together. “What else?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just…just that.”

And maybe he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he knows there was more to Jesse’s threat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s tugging himself out of your grasp and turning toward the wall before you can argue. Sending his knuckles straight into the tile until it cracks.

You gasp, quickly surging forward to pull on his arm in protest. “Harry—”

Surprisingly, he allows you to yank him away, but he doesn’t look at you. He keeps his venomous glare on the drain, chest heaving with uneven breaths.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you guide him back to you, and lift his hands. Studying the torn skin of his knuckles closely with a sigh. “Harry…”

The wounded waver in your voice makes his expression soften, and he allows his shoulders to roll back. Releasing a bit of his rage. “It’s okay. M’okay, Cher—”

“No,” you argue softly. “No, you’re…”

You can’t find the words. Can’t find the right thing to say that explains this anguish in your heart. That lives within your chest.

So, instead, you bring his ruined hands to your lips, and you hold them there. Kissing the stained, battered skin while he sucks in a quiet breath. 

And you don’t care. About any of it. About the fights, or the lies, or the threats. You don’t care what he really does or who he really is. 

You just want him to be happy. To be safe. No matter what that looks like. No matter what you have to do to make that a reality. 

You want to kiss away his scars, kiss away his pain. Take it and make it your own. Carry the weight he’s been trying to carry all by himself.

You don’t want him to be alone. You want to keep him, you want…

He watches you. Keeps his eyes glued to nearly every inch of your face as you do this. And something changes for him. You aren’t sure what.

But he sets his anger free before slipping his fingers from yours in order to take hold of your face.

And he kisses you. Pulls you to him almost desperately before pressing his lips to your own.

It’s soft, and sweet, and so deliciously him. Gentle despite everything else you’ve seen from him today.

He steps forward, subtly pushing you back. Again and again until your back meets the wet, tile wall.

He holds you there almost hesitantly before straightening up and deepening the kiss. Slipping his tongue in beside yours and savoring everything you have to offer. 

And you let him take whatever he’d like. Allow him to have all of you as his chest meets yours and he cages you there. Hungry kisses now moving for your neck.

His touch travels to your hips, nails curling into your shirt as though resisting the urge to grab hold. And you smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Breath hitching at the way his thigh brushes against yours.

You drop one hand to his chest. Allow the tips of your fingers to dance along the swallows on his collarbone and toward the muscles in his abdomen. Careful to mind his stitching and new cuts.

And he seems to remember now that he’s completely bare to you, his mouth falling still against your wet skin as he steadies himself.

Quickly, you stop yourself from going any further, settling atop his stomach before nosing under his jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

He says nothing, lips ghosting across your pulse point before pressing in deep. 

“All of you,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

His lashes flutter shut while his arm loops around your back. Face burying in your shoulder as though to hide, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or enthralled. 

Either way, you gingerly ask, “…may I touch you?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods. Only once, and then he returns to leaving an array of kisses to your throat. Nipping at the skin until you smile.

So, you continue your search, moving your hand toward his hips and down until you feel him.

And the moment your palm brushes against his cock, you both gasp. Straightening up almost attentively before settling back into the pleasure. 

Your thumb finds his slit and he curses. Hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt, keeping you against the tile as if he’s worried you’ll disappear.

“Shit,” he mumbles, palm moving to your cheek. “Baby, you know you don’t have—”

“Shh.” You wrap your fingers around the tip before smoothing down. “I want to. Please?”

When he says nothing, you stop, and it forces an instant groan. His body seeming to have made the decision for him.

“Yes,” he finally says, nodding again but quicker. “Shit, yes, Cherry. Can do whatever you want. M’yours.”

And it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You chase after his pleasure as though your life depends on it. And perhaps it does, but you certainly don’t mind. Because his grunts and pants are deliciously addictive. And you could spend the rest of your life touching him if it meant you’d get to hear just one more.

And maybe now you understand why he’s also so determined to do the same for you.

You run your hand up and down his cock, squeezing the tip before moving lower. Palming at his balls before dragging your touch back to the top. 

He does his best not to rush you or overwhelm you. Resisting the urge to buck his hips closer in a desperate attempt for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you. A role he seems much more comfortable in.

He kisses you everywhere he can. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, your neck. Below your ear, along your collarbone, and down the dip in your shirt.

Then, his fingers slip down to your jeans. Absentmindedly fiddling with the button before he whispers, “Can I touch you, sweet girl? Wanna make you feel good, too.”

And who are you to deny him?

“Always,” you whisper back, releasing him for only a moment so he can wrangle the wet material down your legs. 

Once he has, he straightens up, and runs his palm along the inside of your thigh. Indulging in the feel of your skin while you take him back in your hold.

And it’s strangely beautiful, this dance you do. The synchronicity of teasing touches and playful strokes that leave you both breathless.

Anytime you gently tighten your fist around him, he curls his finger inside your walls. And anytime you brush at his slit, he brushes at your clit. 

You both share a smile when you realize, and Harry laughs before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Tugging your skin between his teeth to muffle his groan.

“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” he says. And it’s a faint thought, perhaps not meant for your ears. “Fucking need you, baby. Always.”

Your head drops back against the wall. Your body already growing sluggish under the weight of undeniable euphoria he inflicts.

“You always have me,” you tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want—”

“Shit.” He yanks your chest to his, mouth painting warm, wet kisses along your skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t, or I’ll never stop.”

You grin. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

You go faster. Finding a pace he seems to enjoy and zeroing in. You want him to cum – need him to cum. To offer him that release and that promise of more. 

And it works. His tattoos rise and fall under the weight of his frantic gasps for air. He’s tipping over the edge, just needing a final push, and you want to get him there more than anything. Want to see what his face looks like when it’s overcome with pleasure. When he’s releasing into your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt. Want to feel him, know how his body moves when it’s spent.

“Please,” you murmur, almost anxiously as you work him closer. “Please, Har…let me feel you. Wanna feel you cum, please.”

He moves to squeeze the back of your neck before his hand disappears into your hair. Gently but pointedly tugging on your roots. “Baby—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can cum. Can cum for me—”

“Fuck.” He jolts forward, fingers slipping from your cunt. “So good to me, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you. Never deserved you—”

“Yes,” you nearly whine. “Of course you do, Har, please—”

He cums with a soft groan that bleeds into your throat. Woven between his kisses and flicks of his tongue to your skin, and it’s everything. The warmth, the feel, the implication. It covers your hand, and wrist, and even parts of your thighs. 

And you watch it drip down toward the floor almost regretfully, but you’re mesmerized. Addicted to something you only just discovered, and desperate for more.

But he gives you no time to reminisce, instead moving his mouth to yours in order to show you exactly how much it meant to him.

  “Knew you’d be good,” he remarks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before squeezing your waist. “Fucking knew, yeah?”

You release his cock as gently as you can before smoothing your palms up his chest and into his hair. Tugging on his curls in order to bring him closer. “Just for you.”

He smirks to himself before leaning back to study you. Glancing over your body as though in search of something. And the longer he looks, the angrier he appears to become.

Then, he mumbles, “He fucking touched you.”

Your heart wrenches. “…Har—”

“He touched you,” he says again, bitterly, and almost to himself. “He fucking put his hands on you and he made sure I saw. Wanted me to see, and now…now I can’t see anything else.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt a panic like this. “Harry, please—”

He crouches down, large hands curling around your thighs and pulling them as far apart as they’ll go. Which, admittedly, isn’t very far because of the jeans still pooled around your ankles. But he doesn’t mind, instead staring at your legs rather thoughtfully.

Finally, he looks up.

“I need to wash him away,” he whispers, and your stomach leaps into your throat.

“What?”

“I need to wash him away,” he repeats softly, moving closer to ghost his lips along your hip. “Need to erase him. Need to clean him off you.”

Your fingers twitch by your side, and you aren’t even sure what to say. Because the look in his eye is unrelenting, and you can see how badly he wants this.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Okay, erase him. Make me yours again.”

And this is all he needs to hear, wasting no more time before smoothing his lips and his hands along your thighs and waist. Repainting every inch of you with his touch. Washing away the metaphorical marks Jesse left when he held you and replacing them with his own. 

Even if it’s not inherently sexual, it’s the most erotic and wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. The way he feasts on your flesh like a man on a mission. Nipping and licking at you just to make you whimper. He’s nowhere near your clit and it doesn’t even matter because he’s so divine.

The heat of his mouth on your cool, wet skin. The way he gingerly kneads at your ass in an attempt to comfort you. Tenderly pulling you closer as though you’re somehow still too far away.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” you hear him sigh, and it makes your insides tighten. “M’so fucking sorry for doing this to you. For bringing you into this.”

Your expression drops while your head shakes. “You didn’t. You didn’t, I asked. I asked to be a part of you, and I don’t regret that.”

But it’s like he can’t hear you over the sound of his shame. Instead kissing you softer as if to apologize. “It’s my fault. Should have told you the moment I saw him. Should have taken you with me. Shouldn’t have left you with him when I fucking knew—”

“Hey.” You reach down and take hold of his hair. Yanking his attention to you. “None of this could ever be your fault. Do you understand?”

He seems to ignore this as well, nudging his nose against your hip with a crestfallen expression that makes you want to scream.

So, you tug harder, forcing his head back and his eyes on yours. “This is who Jesse has always been. You didn’t change that, and you never will. And I know that. I know him. I know his heart and I know what he’d do to hurt me.”

His lips part, as if going to speak, but you merely tighten your grip in an unspoken order to remain silent.

“And I know you,” you continue. “I know that this is who you are. All of this. The fighting and the bets and the torture you put yourself through. And I know that you would never hurt me. That you have always done your best to protect me, even if I didn’t know what I was being protected from.”

His hands begin to drop down your legs and toward the floor, an act of complete submission. 

“This is not your fault,” you repeat earnestly. “You are not responsible for Jesse’s intentions, and you’re certainly not reasonable for mine. And I need you to know that. Okay? You have to know that. Because I have never felt safer than I do with you.”

His features remain unchanged, and you wonder if he heard anything that you said at all. If he understood and internalized your instance. If he’ll believe it.

And then—

“I love you.”

You feel your pulse skip inside your chest as you suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“I love you, Cherry.” He says it again without pause, without a moment’s hesitation. Proving that it wasn’t a mistake or a trick of the mind. He really said it. And he meant to. “And m’so fucking sorry it took him for me to realize it.”

You aren’t sure what to do. What to say or…what to think, but he’s already shaking his head and offering you a small smile before you can decide.

“I don’t want you to say it,” he says quickly and quietly. Slipping your hand from his hair in order to press his lips into your palm. “I just want you to know. And I wish I could have done it differently, but…I do, I love you. And I will do everything I can to prove that to you.”

You want to tell him that he already has. Want to tell him a lot of things that maybe you shouldn’t, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He merely kisses your hand before moving back to your thighs. Looking for your permission to continue. 

Breathlessly, you give it to him.

With a soft grin and great care, he extends his tongue and slowly drags it up your clit. He’s not rushing this time. He’s enjoying it. Allowing himself to indulge in your taste and your feel as you slump against the tile and let him.

He leaves a trail of apologies and promises along your pussy. Kissing, sucking, and flicking until you squirm. And he’s so focused, so dedicated to your orgasm. To making you understand how badly he needs you.

And you do understand. More than you’ve ever understood anything else.

“Love to see you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment, now running the tip of his finger between your folds and down. Taunting you with the intrusion yet not giving it to you. “Love to see this pretty pussy take me.”

You whine pitifully before he finally pushes in. Allowing your walls to beckon him closer until he hums.

“Can’t wait to see you take my cock,” he muses, thrusting the digit once or twice before bringing a second into play. “Gonna watch you stretch for me. Gonna just sit and watch this sweet, little hole take me in. Get me nice and warm. Till I’m soaking in you. Fucking drenched—”

“Harry,” you whine, overcome by a rather euphoric rush that makes him smirk. “Harry, please—”

“What, sweet girl? You like the sound of that?” He ignores your cries and flicks his tongue against your clit. “S’okay. I do, too. Think about it more than I should. Think about you and this tasty little cunt till I’m fucking my fist in the shower.”

The lewd image that’s painted in your head makes your toes curl, and you imagine you’d give anything to watch.

“But it’s not nearly as good as when you do it,” he says coyly. “Won’t ever be able to picture anything else but your sweet, little hand wrapped around my cock. Making me cum like a good girl.”

He adds a third finger, and your vision goes hazy.

“And this,” he breathes, fucking into you a bit faster. Until the sound of your arousal bounces between the walls. “Replay this in my head every goddamn day. The way you sound when you take my fingers, take my tongue. S’fucking beautiful, Cher. The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

You believe him.

“Wanna listen to you forever.” He laps at you like he’s dying of thirst. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you. Wanna fucking hold you and never let you go. Never let anything hurt you. You’re the only good thing in my life, sweet girl. Need you to know.”

You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from the pleasure or his admittance, but they fall from your cheeks almost mercilessly. And you can’t even wipe them away because, in some strange sort of way, you enjoy it. This pain and this angst that comes with the man on his knees before you.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he asks next. But the lustful undertone is gone. He’s pleading with you now. Begging you. “Not his, but mine. Always mine.”

Your agreeance comes before you can question it. “Yes…yes, I’m yours. Yours, I promise—”

 He groans into your cunt like he’s never been happier. And the reverberation down your thighs and across your clit nearly ruins you. “Say it again. Say it again, baby, please—”

“I’m yours. Just yours, Harry. Not his. Never…never his—”

“Fuck.” He pulls on your thigh in order to bury his mouth into your pussy. And you almost wonder if he’s actively trying to suffocate himself. “Again. Again, Cherry—”

“Yours.” The word drips from your tongue like honey from a honeycomb. “Just yours. Don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”

His entire face is nuzzled between your legs, and it almost kills you. Because he’s so beautiful. You’ve never seen or felt something so ethereal, and you can’t look away. Even when your eyes are desperate to fall shut, you force your attention on him. Watching as he mouths at your clit and drives in his fingers until it hits you.

You nearly collapse onto the floor, but he refuses to let you. Keeping you upright before you can go slipping down the wall and cementing you to his tongue in order to drag you through to the other side. 

“Mine,” you vaguely hear him hum, and your heart flutters. “Always mine.”

When he’s sure you’ve caught your breath, he straightens back up, and takes you in his arms. Kissing you and holding you and keeping you safe. Making sure you understand that he wants more than your orgasms. He wants you. Even without the explicit words, you know his true intentions. Know where his heart truly lies, and you settle there beside it.

Moments pass before either of you speak again. Instead listening to the sound of the running water hitting the floor. 

And you’re afraid to be the first to break this tranquility. Because you know once you do, you might not find it again. Jesse’s threat still lingers rather prominently in the forefront of your mind. And you’re terrified that every time you look at Harry…you’ll remember.

“Cherry?” he whispers minutes later, and your pulse jumps. 

You bury your face in his neck, bracing yourself from whatever he might say next. “Harry.”

He nuzzles his cheek against the crown of your head and sighs. And you can feel the heaviness of the breath leave his body. “I don’t know what to do.”

The vulnerability makes your throat run dry, and you subsequently tighten your arms around his middle. “Don’t have to do anything.”

“Cherry—”

“No, just…we’re okay,” you insist. “It’s okay. You just…you’ll win. You’ll keep fighting and you’ll win, and we’ll be okay. And I won’t have to lose you.”

A beat. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t. Never.”

“But he knows, Cher,” he murmurs. “He knows, and he’ll use you to hurt me. He’ll drag you into this as many times as he fucking wants, and he’ll use you. And I can’t let him – I won’t let him.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t scare me, Har—”

“But he fucking scares me.” His volume rises until it can carry over the shower walls. “All right? He terrifies me. Because now he has the one thing I can’t fucking…”

Your eyelids flutter before you take hold of his hand.

“And he wants to play this stupid fucking game, and I won’t let him,” Harry continues. “I won’t let him use you or threaten you, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, but you’re the one with all the cards. Right? He’s shown his hand. He’s shown how desperate he is. He can’t do anything to me if he really wants you to listen—”

“You don’t know him like this,” he nearly scoffs. “You don’t know what he’s willing to do—”

“Harry—”

“I can’t…I can’t,” he seethes. “I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win.”

He’s unrelenting. Unwavering in this insistence and you feel as though your insides are being twisted around a knife.

All he has to do is win. All he has to do is let Jesse believe he’s still in charge. And he’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.

“Harry,” you try again. Softer this time, hoping to reach him. “We’re gonna be fine. Okay? It’s you and me. We’ll be all right. We have to be.”

His expression instantly drops before he dips down and lays his forehead to yours. 

He says nothing else. Offers no more ideas or excuses. He simply exists in this belief and the serenity it provides.

Even if he knows it’s not strong enough to stand on.

“Okay,” he finally mumbles. “You and me.”

And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Because for the first time all night, you see the way out. You see a future where he can be who he is, and you can be who you are, and it can still be all right. Where you can be together and be free of any threats and complications and just exist in this little world you’ve created.

A world outside of the diner and the backseat of his car. A world where he offers you more than his orgasms but his secrets, too. His life. And you need that. You need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

He leads you out of the shower not much later, digging through his things before offering you his hoodie and sweats to wear home. 

And there’s something so intimate about wearing his clothes. The way the tattered fabric feels against your skin. The way it smells like his cologne and the shampoo he must use. The way it fits your frame as if it was always meant to, keeping you warm despite the frigid air that greets you when you step outside.

You offer to drive him home, but he refuses. Insisting that it’s better if you don’t know where he lives, at least for right now. And you don’t have it in you to argue.

He makes you promise to lock your door the moment you get inside the car, and to lock your apartment door the moment it’s closed. You vow to do both before dragging him closer for a kiss.

And he gives it to you. He gives you five kisses, in fact. One on the forehead, one on each cheek, one on the nose, and finally…one on your lips.

 When he lets you go, you feel empty. Lost. As though a part of you is missing, and it aches the entire way home.

In fact, it aches for the next two days until you can finally see him again. And you busy about your shift, watching the clock like a hawk until midnight finally strikes, and you fly through the kitchen doors. Ready to see him and fill this gap in your chest.

But for the second time this week…booth 505 is empty. 

Instantly, the blood drains from your face. All the way down to your toes, and almost feel faint as your shaky legs carry you to his table.

However, the moment you’re close enough, you catch something just out of your peripheral, tucked just beneath the sugar dispenser. Something that most certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago. 

A note.

With furrowed brows, you slip the folded napkin free and bring it closer. Straightening it out until you can make out the haphazard message scrawled across in black ink.

Meet me at the station after your shift.

Don’t tell Owen.

H.

Next Part:

~ Uppercut*

Previous Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @char112244 @harryscowgirl @hsbabygirl22-blog @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

[rangerbarbz]

First Time

Author’s Note: Y’all i am so sorry it’s been so long since i posted a fic. I am a junior in college and i have two jobs so i have been so busy. However expect some more stories now that it’s winter break! Hope everyone is having some happy holidays 🫶🏼

Summary: Reader and Ford go all the way for the first time together

It was a chilly night in Gravity Falls, Oregon when Stanford Pines and you decided to make some cookies. It was the perfect atmosphere for baking: comfy clothes, the temperature had dropped down, and the sun dipped behind the woods surrounding the Mystery Shack. The rest of the Pines family had went on an excursion to break into the theatre for a free movie, so you can’t imagine they would be back anytime soon.

Ford and you were in the kitchen trying to figure out what to make with the few ingredients you had available.

“Hmmm… So I’m seeing cinnamon here,” you said, looking into a cabinet next to the fridge. “I’m not seeing much else. What do you think about Snickerdoodles?” You grinned excitedly and faced Ford who was already smiling.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice resonating in you. God, his voice was so attractive. You remember hearing him talk for the first time in the library where you worked and your heart just melting.

He was in the fantasty section talking to himself when you walked by the aisle to reshelf a book. He was in the same area where the book needed to be relocated. Turns out you were holding the novella he was wanting to read, and you two struck up a conversation. He was kind and smelled delightful. You were too shy to ask him for his number, but a young girl who came into the library once a week for a crocheting club set you up on a date. You were unaware at the time this young girl was his great niece. The rest is history.

“Do you think everyone else will like them? I want to make sure these won’t go to waste,” you asked, scrunching your eyebrows together.

Ford scoffed as he was scraping flour from a measuring cup back into the bag. “Please, those things will be devoured. You have nothing to worry about.”

You laughed softly, standing up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Glad to hear that.” A small smile spread across his face.

While you two prepared the ingredients and mixed everything together, you filled Ford in on the workplace drama. He would never admit it, but he loved to gossip with you.

“I can’t believe Denise would do that,” he said in disbelief, shaking his head. “I mean who does she think she is?” You rolled the last ball of cookie dough in cinnamon and sugar before pressing it into the pan.

“Right?! Like come on, now. I thought we were civilized.” Ford chuckled at your comment and put the cookies in the oven.

“Some people just never learn.” He snaked his arm around your waist and put a hand on your hip, bringing you closer to him. You placed your hand on his broad back and leaned your head on his chest.

“We got about 25 minutes until these are done. Wanna see what’s on TV?” you suggested, looking up at him. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sure. I think that’s enough time to get through half an episode of ‘Ghost Harassers.’”

“Ah, man. Dipper’s got you hooked doesn’t he?” You giggled and began to walk into the living room, him following suit.

Ford sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I know it’s fake, but their reactions to these so-called ghosts are so funny.” He sat down on the recliner while you fiddled with the TV antenna to get it to the right channel.

It finally flickered to a group of men with flashlights running through an abandoned house screaming. “Ah! Got it!” you exclaimed. You ran over to Ford and sat on his lap. Your legs draped over his, feet hanging over the armrest. This time he kissed your cheek, his stubble tickling your face.

“Good job, dear,” he murmured in your ear. Butterflies formed in your stomach from hearing his low voice.

“Thanks, baby.” You leaned your head on his shoulder as one of his arms cradled you. He was so strong; you always felt protected by him. One hand was splayed across your stomach while the other was on your knee.

You were so engrossed in the show you didn’t notice Ford wasn’t paying a lick of attention. You were wearing loose shorts which exposed much of your legs, and he was entranced.

You lifted your head up to look at him, eyes drifting over your thighs. His hand remained still on your knee, however.

“Stanford?” You had a mischievous smile on your face.

He quickly looked over at you like he had just been caught doing something wrong. Since the lights were still on, you could see the blush spread across his face.

“Something catch your eye?” you teased, inching your face closer to his.

“I-uh. My apologies. I was distracted.” He cleared his throat and returned his eyes to the TV. Oh, so he was going to play dumb? You were going to drag it out of him.

“M-hmm. What was distracting you?” You egged on. He glanced over at you and back to the TV.

“Your, um, legs. They just looked very nice.” Ford answered quietly, avoiding eye contact with you. It was so cute to see Ford get flustered.

You had kissed and hugged, but never went much further than that. It was hard to find alone time, and Ford could be hesitant about showing affection. This didn’t bother you, though. You were willing to wait how ever long you needed to for him. He had been through a lot, so it’s reasonable for him to want to take things slow and gain trust.

“Ford, you can touch my legs if you want,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his. “Do whatever you want. I don’t mind.” You gave him soft kiss on his lips and cupped his face in your hands. Your fingers slid through his silver hair and down the nape of his neck.

He sighed into your mouth and you felt his hand slowly creep up your leg. His other was on the small of your back. His hand began to slowly travel up and down your leg, stopping to squeeze every now and then as you continued the kiss.

God, he was being so gentle with you and all you can think about is ripping his clothes off.

You shifted your body so you were straddling him without breaking contact with his lips. His hands started to squeeze your thighs a little harder, his thumbs rubbing your inner thighs.

You whined a little against his lips. You could feel his lips turn into a smile. You decided to deepen the kiss by opening your mouth and sliding your tongue along his lips. You felt him shiver as he welcomed you. What started as an innocent kiss began to turn into a make-out sesh. His hands had moved to your hips and were gripping them. Not tightly enough to hurt you, but enough to feel oh so good.

You broke away from the kiss when you heard the oven timer go off. “Dammit, cookies,” you joked, getting up from Ford’s lap. “Don’t move. I’ll be back for you, handsome.” You quickly pecked his nose and made your way into the kitchen. The Snickerdoodles smelled delicious as you pulled them out of the oven. You placed the pan on the stove top not wanting to damage the kitchen table from the heat. You removed your oven mitts from your hand and placed them back in the drawer where they came from.

“Cookies are done! Just-“ You were cut off by Ford scooping you into his arms and carrying you to his room. You were giggling uncontrollably all the way there feeling like a bride on her honeymoon.

He pushed open his bedroom door and gently placed you on his bed. He sat beside you, his eyes staring earnestly into yours. He took your hands into his, fingers intertwining perfectly together.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he started. “I am tired of dancing around these feelings I have for you. I want to be completely vulnerable.”

You were a little worried as to what he was about to tell you.

“I’m in love with you. I love everything about you, and I know in my heart this is deeper than surface level admiration. And…if you’ll let me. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes. You lifted your hand into his and began to plant kisses on each of his knuckles. “Oh, Stanford. I would be honoured, but are you sure you want to move forward like that? I know you like to take things slow.”

He shook his head and smiled at you while using his thumb to wipe away the tear falling down your cheek. “I’m totally sure. I was holding back my affections for you because I was scared. I’ve never felt this strongly for someone before, and I didn’t want to make careless mistakes. Now all I want is you. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You grinned and nodded your head eagerly. “Yes, please.” His face was pink perhaps from the whirlwind of emotions you both were experiencing.

He leaned forward his hands holding your face now. His movements were more sure than they had ever been before. You laid on your back, letting him take charge.

Your innocent kiss quickly turned rampant, exploring each other’s mouths. Your hands gripping his broad shoulders and moving through his hair once again. His elbows were on either side of your head, his breath becoming more ragged. His lips moved from yours to kiss down your neck. You moaned into his ear as sucked on a spot in the dip of your collarbones. There was sure to be a hickey there in the morning, but you didn’t mind. There was something erotic about having a mark from him.

Ford kissed down the other side of your neck, leaving yet another sign he was there on your collarbone. His mouth went to your ear to whisper, “May I take off your shirt?”

“Yes,” you hissed. That was all he needed. His fingers tugged the hem of your oversized shirt and pulled it over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra which had Ford somewhat short-circuiting. His eyes drank you in, eyes trying to capture your beauty permanently in his mind. He stared for so long you had become a tad insecure, so you crossed your arms over your breasts.

“No, no,” he moved your arms away quickly. “I’m sorry, dear. You’re just so…beautiful.” You felt your face heat up. His eyes were just so full of adoration, and it made you nervous.

“Thank you,” you replied softly. He smiled gently and started to kiss down your chest. They were as soft as feathers. He then kneaded at your breasts, letting out a sharp exhale. His calloused hands felt wonderful against you. His thumb caressed your nipple before he put it in his mouth. You yelped at the contact. His tongue swirled around your aerola as his other hand pinched your hard nipple between his fingers.

“F-Ford,” you breathed, your hands gripping his hair. He had began to suck at your nipple and repeated the same actions to your other breast.

He continued to move down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He got to your loose shorts and looked at you as to ask for permission. You nodded, your face becoming hotter.

Ford’s eyes glinted with lust as he looked into your eyes. “You know, I loved the way you said my name. Can’t wait to hear you say it more.” You could barely register how smooth that line was before he was removing your pajama bottoms. You didn’t wear underwear to bed so you were now completely exposed.

Ford sat up to look you up and down. His lips were parted slightly, and his hands gently rubbed your thighs. He looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N, you are the most heavenly sight I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Ford murmured. “You look like art.” His eyes had gazed down back to your now dripping core, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. He sure knew how to worship his woman.

“But frankly, my dear, I’m about to be very disrespectful to you,” he mumbled, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

“Oh God,” you moaned. He was making his way to your center but taking his sweet time. Ford was a loving man. However, you could tell a primal part of him had been awakened.

His placed sweet kisses along your folds before flicking his tongue along your clit to tease you. You cried out in pleasure as he dove into you. He licked a stripe inside you and moved his tongue back and forth. You heard him moan deeply as he tasted you. Your brain was becoming foggy from how good everything felt and how he enjoyed pleasing you. Your thighs pressed against the side of his head; his hands were massaging your hips.

“Stanford, please. I want to feel you.” You needed him so bad. He lifted his head up from your thighs, slick covering his chin and lips. His hair was a ruffled mess. God, he looked good.

“Of course, sweetheart.” His finger rubbed along your entrance. He breathed heavy as he slid a finger into you. You let out a sharp inhale as you adjusted to him.

“Ford…”

“You feel so, so good.” Ford pumped his finger back and forth in you. Your eyes were closed and your legs had started to shake. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. Seeing you come apart underneath him was almost too much for Ford.

You had decided that he had done enough for you. It was time to return the favor. “Baby, baby. I wanna ride you.” Ford stopped and slowly removed himself from you.

“Are you sure?” he asked. I don’t mind-“ You pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. You grabbed his face and kissed him passionately.

You separated from the kiss to see his eyes wide and a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Take off your shirt,” you demanded. He quickly removed his loose red shirt to reveal a toned, yet scarred body. You had actually seen him shirtless before accidentally when he came out of the shower in just a towel so this wasn’t a shock. You found it incredibly attractive. Although, it took lots of convincing for him to believe you.

You ran your hands over his chest and kissed him once more. “You’re so sexy, Stanford,” you whispered to him before biting his earlobe. You spastically kissed him all over his body, letting your hands now roam over his muscular arms. You couldn’t tell it by looking at him, but he was packing some heat under those sweaters. You were also grinding down on his painfully erect dick which caused him to whimper.

Ford sat up and held you close to him as you fumbled with pulling down his sweatpants. He sprang free and you lowered yourself onto him. He let out a guttural moan as he felt your walls tighten around him. His forehead was against your shoulder while you bounced up and down on him. His strong hands had grabbed onto your ass, his fingers pressing into the tended flesh.

“Y/N…Oh my…” You held his face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes while you fucked him. He had a loving look; you had an animalistic one.

“I’m… Not going to last much longer, darling,” he said between breaths.

“Me neither baby.” It was the truth. He already almost had you with his finger, but now that his length was inside you, you didn’t stand a chance. Your legs had started twitching and you threw your head back, allowing Ford to assault your neck further. His arms were now wrapped around you as you came insanely hard. You thought you were gonna see stars. It only took a couple more seconds for him to fill you up. His chest heaved up and down as he collapsed on his bed with you on top of him.

“That was…wonderful,” he sighed, placing a kiss against your temple.

“Agreed, but I think we need a shower after that,” you suggested.

Ford raised one of his eyebrows at you. “Round two?”

You laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Oh you bet.”

P.S. I didn’t look over this so if you see a typo or bad grammar no you didn’t

[krypticcafe]

When you call them "babygirl" (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, a smidge of suggestivness

a/n: calling them bbygirls>>>>>calling them fictional crushes. also, my personal Roach hc is that he's a selective mute that took up ASL to communicate.

EDIT: there's now a reversal! What if you were called babygirl 👀

Gaz

His eyebrows raise almost impossibly high

"Did I hear that right or did you just..."

He's not upset, just... surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

He doesn't mind it but man... it might've sparked something inside him. Might've.

You've given him nicknames before, both teasing and affectionate, but he never expected to be called that before. It's a new feeling.

You don't use it too much with him, but when you do, it gets the cutest laugh out of him. Gets him acting like he doesn't like it, but you know he absolutely does.

If you catch him off guard, he'll tilt his cap down and try to stifle a laugh to distract himself from how warm his face feels.

"Fuckin' hell, the things you do to me..."

You cheekily grin in response and give him those adoring eyes because you know that he knows you do it because you love him just that much to torment him :]

Now you only use it to amuse and tease him just to hear that golden laughter. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.

Price

First time you said it, he nearly choked on his cigar.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"

He doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that you caught him so off guard. Give the poor man a break.

You repeat it to him and he chuckles, a little awkwardly because him? Babygirl? He can't see it, at least he doesn't see if he even has the qualities for such a title.

But oh, do you disagree. In fact, you start using it more, regardless of what he thinks.

If it's in front of the other task force members, it usually gets him to stop in his tracks and let out a knowing groan, shaking his head and trying to get the team to focus back on whatever they were doing before.

Which is extremely hard with how Gaz and Soap are trying to fight back their giggles.

When you're alone, he sighs but leans into your touch a little more.

He's actually amused by it and has even tried to give you something equally cheesy or teasing just to bite back at you.

It works.

He knows he's egging you on to use it more but truthfully?

He can't bring himself to get actually upset over it.

Soap

You decided to test his reaction on a whim one night at a visit to the pub after a successful mission, walking up behind him and greeting him.

You've never seen his head whip around so fast, and you wonder how he didn't snap his neck.

Oh and there it is.

The classic McTavish SmirkTM.

He's grinning so wide, leaning into your side and wrapping your arm around his waist.

"Would'ya mind repeatin' that, love?"

You're starting to regret this, seeing as he's enjoying it a little too much.

Then again... it could make this night a little more rewarding.

After that, he practically pushes you to use it more, says something about getting butterflies or how it "rolls off your tongue so well"

Either way, you don't mind it, seeing how it makes him happy and how he seems more obliged to listen to you.

And every time you do, he's always got that adoring glint in his eyes and an excited grin on his lips because fuck yeah,

He is your babygirl.

Ghost

He freezes so badly, the only movement being his shallow breathing.

To be honest, you were a b i t nervous to try, but you figured there was no harm in it with how far your relationship was.

But now you're starting to regret even trying, wondering if you've crossed a line or-

"Say it again."

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-

You do as he says, and it gets a dry laugh out of him. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his forehead, mumbling about how stupid it is.

Except you don't miss that softened look in his eyes, the one weakness of his mask.

So you start rolling it out slowly and steadily, mostly in private because god knows he would strangle you for using it in public.

Much to his dismay, the 141 still overhears it thanks to you "teasing" him with it as a "joke".

Regardless, you don't mind limiting it to being used in private because you're the only one that knows and uses the fact that the Simon "Ghost" Riley secretly loves being called your babygirl.

Specifically in a soft or smooth way that gets him to just fucking melt on the spot. Even a simple, "How's my babygirl doing today?" in passing gets him all worked up at the idea of him being yours and yours only. It's even worse when you use it in bed.

So use it wisely!

König

He's looking around as if you're talking to someone else. Poor thing's all confused.

When he finally figures it out that it's him you're talking about, ohhh the way you wish you could take a peek under that hood.

The man's got his face buried in his hands, gripping and pulling the hood down on his face as if any inch of skin would further reveal how flustered he got.

Though you can already imagine it for yourself, his face burning brightly with his lips pressed tightly, causing all his stammering and sputtering.

Even worse, because of that, you add it to the list of various nicknames you have for him.

What you didn't expect is for him to adjust so well to it. At some point, he just sheepishly laughs and smiles whenever you use it, and of course, he's still a little shy about it,

But he starts leaning into it more, responding to it like he would any other name. Loves it like any other nickname when he just buries his face in your shoulder and cuddles you while you whisper reassurances to him.

Just be careful using it around the others, he'll implode if they find out.

Roach

What surprises you is how quickly he accepts it.

You had called out for him, and he just turned and responded with a signed "Yes?"

It kinda caught the both of you off guard.

He snickers and signs again, "Would you want me to call you something similar?"

You know where this is going, and before you can do anything, he starts calling you "hot stuff".

So now the two of you keep coming up with a bunch of corny, cheesy nicknames to sign to each other, some of which don't even make sense.

It's until that you call him it again he's like Soap in that he goes, "You know what? Yeah, I am your babygirl!"

Now he wears the name loud and proud. Almost too proudly. Pretty much the whole base knows it by now.

He got a goddamn name patch of it.

Occasionally, you'll get other 141 members commenting, "Looking for your babygirl?" or "Surprising that you don't have your babygirl with you today." with emphasis on the nickname.

So basically, what was supposed to be you teasing him was now him teasing you.

Hound

They first overheard you using it when you were conversing with some other force members, mostly talking about Hound and you. To many, it was a strangely unlikely relationship come true. He didn't think too much about it. You probably fumbled with your words.

Then he overheard it a second time. Then, a third. Then it came to a point where they just figured that it was now another term of endearment for them.

In all honesty, he's confused why you specifically like using that of all names, he simply can't see how such a cute, loving name could fit someone like him

You explain to them how it's kind of your way of showing them as yours, that they're your baby, and to you, they're one of the sweetest things to exist.

He melts at that.

So now when he hears it from you close or from afar, his head perks up, and he'll give a quick glance in your direction.

Sometimes, you use that fact just to get his attention, and he knows that, but he never minds when he gets to see you grinning so brightly.