#Tramp problems

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

this is part of the tramps like us series, but can be read as a standalone!

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gator starts something he thinks he can finish, but it’s not in the way he expects.

CW/Tags: smut, duh— switch!gator, switch!reader, femdom, toys, PiV unprotected sex, squirting, light bondage, dacryphilia, dirty talk, objectification, language, mean!reader, edging, bratty!gator, sickeningly sweet aftercare, and (y’all I’m so sorry) post-orgasm syncope. probably forgetting stuff but that covers most of it.

WC: 3.9k

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist ✧.┊read on AO3〙

A/N: y’all kept asking for more smut, and i agree, there wasn’t enough filth in this series lmao, so I’m hoping to add more mini chapters for just smut in between the next few! hope y’all enjoy, and thanks as always for the support on this series 🫶🏻

chapter 6✧.┊

killshot (slowed + reverb) - magdalena bay

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ oh god, can you make my heart stop / hit me with your kill shot baby / I mean it so serious ♬ ₊˚.

“Jesus, you’re insatiable,” You suppress a groan while Gator lazily ruts against your ass; while trying to do your makeup in the bathroom, he couldn’t keep himself off of you. “What’s with you today?”

In fact, he’s been greedy and needy in touches since the two of you woke up, and while you love it, you’re trying to be responsible and go to work.

“You keep wearin’ these short dresses ‘round me and expect me not to touch you?” He pushes the dress up, bunching up around your hips, exposing high waisted, lace fabric; the pair accentuates the plushy curves of your ass and thighs, drives Gator wild. “C’mon, darlin’, you’re a smart girl.” 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror before you push back into him with a devious smirk. “I know I am, don’t gotta tell me that.” You return to blending your makeup like nothing happened, feeling his length twitch against you. “I wanna play a game.”

Gator’s brows knit together with a slight, disapproving frown. “We’re bad at games, y’know. Whenever ya’ try challenging me, we both just end up givin’ in.”

“Not this one.”

Now, he’s intrigued; Gator Tillman loves a good challenge.

Even if he’s bad at winning.

As you set your brush down, his hand snakes around to the front of your throat, pulling you back flush against his chest. That delicious, dizzy sensation begins to make your head float with desire.

Gator’s fingers toy with the pressure of your blood flow, rutting against you roughly as he savors the expression on your face through the mirror.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute when y’think you’re tough.” His other hand pushes the top of your sundress down, cock kicking against your backside at the absence of a bra. “Oh, y’really were gonna walk around like this all day?”

“It’s…” He’s slow, deliberate with his movements as his hand grabs a handful of your chest. Any argument you had in waiting is lost when he pinches your nipple; your head lolls back onto his shoulder with a whimper. “It’s so hot out.”

“If I didn’t like the way you looked in this, it’d be ripped off ya’ and on the floor already.” The hand around your neck is replaced with his arm snaking around into a headlock. It’s loose, but the sight of his toned, defined arm around your neck alone makes your thighs squeeze together.

“G- Gator, c’mon, I gotta get ready—“ His arm flexes pressure around your neck, stealing your words. 

“You’re so easy, darlin’. Just gotta say some sweet, filthy words to ya’, choke ya’, and you go dumb instantly.” The hand on your breast moves to tug your underwear down, then his, before kicking your feet apart. “Didn’t even get to tell me ‘bout the game you wanted to play. Told ya’.”

Your eyes roll back as he slips a finger between your folds, hips rolling onto his lazy touch, inwardly cursing yourself at the way your body betrays you. 

You manage to rasp out, “Oh, go fuck yourself, Tillman.”

Much to your surprise, his arm drops, hand pulls away and he backs up, pulling his boxers back on. With a shrug, his eyes meet yours in the mirror, smirk twisting onto his features while your mouth hangs agape. Your chest rises and falls roughly as your heart rate settles with disappointment.

“Whatever ya’ want, princess.”

And just like that, Gator’s gone, leaving you a breathless, dripping wreck in the bathroom, alone.

He might like a good challenge, or bending the rules to his benefit, but you’re better at being a classic, stubborn, brat— you’re going to make him regret pushing your buttons like this.

With the little composure you’ve got, you adjust your dress and finish your makeup before heading back up to the bedroom, paying no mind to Gator smirking devilishly from the couch. He continues scrolling on his phone, not thinking twice about why you retreated upstairs.

Not until your moans float down from the loft. Not until the loud buzz of your wand follows. The sounds send blood rushing south; it was already hard enough walking away from you, all desperate and submissive, ready to fall apart instantly. But now, his dick hurts. He needs to fuck you, now. 

“Oh, fuck…”

Gator rushes off the couch and towards the stairs, nearly tripping upwards as he runs. He loses his breath at the sight of you on the bed, face down, ass up while you’re teasing yourself with the plug he’s used on you before. The wand’s pushed aside, for now, lying in wait with a dildo.

“Angel, what… what’re y’doin’?” His voice cracks as his mouth instantly goes drier than a desert. 

“What’s it look like, Gator?” You take the plug in, slowly, eyes rolling back as it begins to sink into you. Breathily, you comeback with, “If you won’t fill and touch me, I’ll do it myself.”

Gator strides over to you, but before he can climb on the bed, you command, “No, you can sit and watch, since ya’ wanna be a fuckin’ tease.” You reach the widest curve of the plug, stinging for a moment and creating a pained look on your face.

“Lemme help, darlin’.” He pants out, sinking to the floor as he watches you from the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t need your he— oh, fuck!” The plug finally nestles into your body, causing your eyes to roll back and cunt to clench around nothing. “See? Didn’t need ya’.”

His hands grip the sheets, restraining himself from surging forward and taking control. 

“N- no, you didn’t.” He finds himself admitting in a daze. You throw a lopsided smirk his way before flipping onto your back, reaching for the dildo and wand next. It slides into you with ease from your own slick, making Gator’s mouth water at the view.

It’s not as big of a stretch as he is, but with the plug in the other hole, it’s still a tight fit. As you flip the switch for your wand, running it up and down your folds, you finally glance back at Gator; he’s a wreck, face flushed red while he bites the back of his hand, eyes never leaving the sweet, sinful movements you make along your angelic form.

“M’god… you’re gonna kill me, baby.” He murmurs as he palms himself. “I- I need to touch ya’.”

“You had your chance, Tillman.” You manage to speak steadily, despite the way your body sporadically jolts whenever the wand hits your clit just right. “I wanted to see if you could last the whole day without touchin’ and teasin’ me, but now y’can watch me play with myself instead.”

He whines, face burying into the mattress. “Can I come up at least?”

“Sure, but y’can’t touch yourself either. Hand off your dick, right now.”

Gator groans loudly, pained. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“If you last until I get off, I’ll reward you.” You gasp sharply as pleasure rolls through your body. Gator scrambles up onto the bed, trying to sit still at the opposite end, but he’s already losing it over the show you’re giving him.

“… and if I don’t?”

“Can’t fuck me for a week.”

“A week?!” Gator shouts incredulously. “How the hell are ya’ gonna survive a whole fuckin’ week without cryin’ on my cock?”

“Survived without you for how long now, a week won’t kill me— ah, ah, hands off.” You scold him for brushing his hand against his bulge; it was a subconscious move, but still breaks the rules regardless. 

“What if I decide to break the rules and switch instead?”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be a good boy, and watch.”

You see his cock kick as you call him a good boy, restrained under the fabric.

“For the love of—“ Gator’s already losing it, already wants to give in and pin you down and show you who’s really in charge here. 

Except he knows. He knows it’s you. He’s like putty in your hands when you flip the switch like this, and he wouldn’t dare ruin a sight as sweet as this one.

Gator just sits back, hands digging into the sheets while he keeps his gaze locked on you. He’s trying his hardest to settle his shallow breaths, but his jaw’s clenched as you moan his name, hips rolling into the vibrating wand. Tears spring at the edge of your eyes; he thinks you’re close—

Until you pull the wand back, body twitching as it backs off from the edge of your climax. Your eyes are dark, heavily hooded with lust as both your cunt and ass squeeze the toys inside of you.

“Are you really gonna—“

“Edge myself? If it pisses you off, sure fucking will.”

And pissed off he is; Gator glares at you, “What happened to going to work?”

“Have to teach a lesson to a brat first,” you murmur, wand back on your puffy clit. Gator’s eyes follow the slick that drips from you onto the sheets below with a whimper. 

He regains composure. Or, at least he tries to. “Me? A brat? Okay, sure, princess.” He lets go of the sheets, shifting closer to you, so you stop. He stops, too.

“I’m sorry, do I need to cuff you?”

Gator’s face flushes as he sits back again. Your eyes fall to the dark spot on his boxers.

“Oh, poor thing, you’re so worked up, huh?”

He nods, gulping.

“Good.”

You continue playing with yourself, growing close to your release just to edge yourself again. Gator whines, trying his best to keep his hips still, from rutting into the mattress.

“I can’t watch you suffer like this,” You murmur with a fake pout. Gator’s eyes light up.

“Does this mean I can touch ya’?”

You don’t answer, just pull the toy cock out of you, licking it clean before shoving it to the back of your throat; Gator lets out the filthiest moan you’ve heard from him yet. 

“Darlin’, please, you- you’re killin’ me, here.” His eyes are wide as you pull the toy out of your mouth, stare trailing down with the spit that slides off the fake tip.

Leaving the plug in, you flick the wand off before moving aside, nodding to the pillows you once laid on. “Go ‘head, honey, strip n’ lay back for me.”

Gator tries to hide the relief flooding through him, more than ready for you to touch him, and vice versa. You reach into the nightstand, pulling out a blindfold, watching his cock twitch at the sight.

“You gonna use that on me? I can just close my eye, y’know”

“Uh-huh,” You straddle him before gently tying it around his face. “And that’s not the same. I don’t trust ya’.”

“But—“

“Arms up.”

He hears the familiar clink of metal, whimpering as you cuff his wrists to the bed frame.

“You want me to touch you?”

“Please, I’ll be good, promise— oh ffffffuck— what- what’s that—“

You roll a cock ring over his throbbing length, smirking at the way he bucks into your hand. Watching Gator squirm from the pressure makes you lick your lips.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, but what— it’s so—“ His hips roll desperately into empty air with a needy whine. “I thought you were gonna let me touch ya’—“

“In your dreams, Tillman.”

His hands grip at the chains of the cuffs, gritting his teeth at the sensation; it feels good, too good. He’s already panting, head of his length cherry red with need.

“But I’ll touch you.”

“Oh, thank god—“ The air’s forced out of his lungs as you sink down onto him, pinning his legs to the bed with your own. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

“Just not in the way you’re hopin’ for.”

Gator’s too drunk off pleasure to ask what that means. A cluttered mess of your own sounds tumble out as he stretches you out, the sensation tighter than usual from the plug inside you. He clearly feels it, too, shuddering loudly as you finally take all of him in.

He knows despite the countless times the two have you fucked, you still need a second to adjust to his length; he whimpers as he waits, but the waiting just continues on, and on, and on—

“Angel,” Gator tries bucking up into you, but you hold him in place. “… why aren’t ya’ movin’?”

“‘Cause this ain’t about you, baby.” The wand buzzes to life as you lean back to tease your clit again. 

Gator can feel the vibrations, he can feel the way you nearly squeeze him to death, with the cock ring already constricting him, the way you flutter around him—

“This isn’t fuckin’ fair,” He whines, squirming underneath you.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” You feign pity, leaning forward to pull the blindfold off. Gator blinks a few times before focusing on you as you pull away again. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair to hide the show from you, m’sorry, baby.”

You’re talking way too sweet; he knows you’re up to no good. He shakes his wrists, irritated. “Just take ‘em off already.”

You ignore him as you touch yourself again, dripping over his cock. Gator watches the scene before him, nearly drooling. Every so often, the vibrator slips down his shaft, causing him to cry out.

The longer this goes on— you, only using him for your pleasure— the more red his face turns, heat spilling down his neck and onto his chest. He pants wildly, still tugging at the cuffs while biting down onto his lip, about to break the skin.

“Gator, y’feel so good.”

Again, he tries thrusting upward, failing miserably as his body barely moves under your strong hold.

“It’d feel better if you’d let me fuck ya’.” The way his words tumble out in whimpers does anything but make him sound like he should be in control. 

“Hm… not sure, baby. You’re pretty good at bein’ a toy for me instead.”

Being objectified causes Gator to twitch and kick within you, earning a shocked smirk from you. He flushes under your stare, trying his hardest to look annoyed, but it doesn’t take much more than another skilled roll of your hips forward to make him break.

“Oh, so you like being a fuck toy for me?”

He moans, back arching, just barely lifting his hips under you, shoving him deeper inside. You jolt at the extra fullness.

“Darlin’, please—“

Your eyes flicker up to his, “What? You’re the one always bragging that your dick is better than my toys. Might as well just become one, then.”

“Fuckin’ hell, the mouth on ya’—“ Gator gasps sharply, a sound you don’t get to hear often, but it runs straight to your core regardless. “This— is this—“ He pants wildly, like he’s about to cum, but it’s not enough. It’s almost like he’s stuck, teetering on the edge of his desired high. “That stupid fuckin’ thing is keepin’ me from—“

His own moan cuts him off, so you finish his thought, “The ring? Keepin’ you from fillin’ me up? Yeah, just for now, at least. Baby, that’s the whole point. You thought you’d get off easy?”

Every time he gets close to a climax, it only builds, never reaching that delicious, sinful high he’s craving. “Jesus fuckin’ christ—“

“Prettiest toy I’ve ever owned,” You murmur, leaning over him as you leave the wand pressed between both of your bodies as you grab his face. He can’t stop watching the point where your bodies meld together, spellbound by the sight. “Never had one this pathetic and whiny, though. What’s wrong, darlin’?”

Gator’s eyes snap up to yours, teeth gritting together as he spits, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” The tension loosens quickly from his jaw when your hand wanders to his throat, ghosting your grip over his neck, waiting for his permission. You don’t expect him to whimper out a, “Please…”

Slowly, tortuously slow, you’re adding pressure to the sides of his neck, playing with his blood flow just right; you’re handing over the heavenly, dizzying sensation he likes more than he’d admit. The moan that slips between his parted lips is strained as his eyes roll back.

Just as soon as Gator reaches the sweet spot, you steal it away, hand leaving his throat with ease. 

“No— ugh— why’d y’stop?” He bucks up into you as he asks pitifully, chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. Another almost-orgasm hits him rapidly, so, so close to the edge, and yet— “Baby, baby, please, this is— s’fuckin’ awful—“

You frown leaning back a little with concern on your features. “You hurt?”

“… No.”

“You wanna stop?”

“… No, but—“

“Then y’can take what I give ya’, darlin’.” He grunts at the mocking while you surge forward, mouth on his neck and wasting no time as you kiss, suck, bite, and lick along his sensitive skin. 

He bites his bottom lip, trying to suppress more sinful sounds; that’s when he realizes you’ve lifted your hold on his bottom half with your legs, and takes advantage of the opportunity of your mistake. 

When your lips make their way to Gator’s jaw, then his face, to his lips, you’re about to kiss him when he smirks like a damn demon, distracting you before he plants his feet onto the bed, slamming up into you.

It’s only once, but it’s enough to push the air from your lungs, eyes rolling back as your jaw drops. Gator flashes that smirk, that smug, arrogant, smirk he’s had his entire life. The one that both infuriates and flusters you, always has, probably always will.

“What was that, darlin’?” He slams up into you again, hitting your sweet spot in just one rough motion. You can’t catch the scream before it escapes you, only fueling his cocky attitude. “What was that, ‘bout takin’ what ya’ give?”

“Fuck you—“

“Thought that’s what we were doin’?”

You slip your fingers into his mouth before slamming yourself down onto him, thighs locking him back in place against the mattress. The noises he makes around your fingers are pornographic as you regain control.

“Should gag ya’ one of these days, keep that bratty mouth busy,” You’re muttering as you start bouncing on his cock, angrily needy and begging with a pulsating sensation for release. “Toys shouldn’t talk anyway.”

As you heighten your pace, Gator sucks greedily on your fingers, eye heavy with lust while you drip all over him. He hums until you take the hint, pulling your hand away, leaving him a breathless mess.

Just like he left you earlier. It’s only fair.

“Angel, m’close.”

“You are? You sure? You got close a few times already, but nothin’ happened.”

He throws his head back into the pillows as his back arches off the bed. 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty fallin’ apart like this.”

Tears spring in his eyes, pouting and panting and shaking underneath you.

“Can I? I— please? Need it, need to cum inside ya’.”

“Yeah? How bad do y’need it?”

“Feels like… like m’gonna die if I don’t.”

“Dramatic, aren’t we?” You spit down towards the space where the two of you meet, just barely hitting the base of his cock, and for some reason, that is what does him in.

Gator’s about to snap back when his entire body shakes, eye spinning back as his mouth falls open; the cry he makes is silent, at first, then pierces the quiet around you all at once as he finally spills inside of you.

“That’s it, honey, just like that,” You praise him through his well-deserved high. “Did so good f’me… Poor thing, y’needed that so bad, didn’t you?”

When he thinks he’s finally coming down, he’s drained further as you constrict around him, close to your own high. He’s overstimulated, still fucking filling you, certain his mind’s on the edge of insanity.

Beyond fucked out, Gator can’t find the words he so desperately needs to say, just gives one rough thrust up into you before actually crying, name dripping from your lips in a dumb, pussy drunk babble. 

You know what’s about to happen, but this time, you’re trying your best to embrace it without shame. Legs shaking, body rolling in convulsions, you’re so, so close—

“Needed t’get fucked dumb, didn’t ya’?” He looks exhausted, barely nodding as you finally follow him over the edge, head lolling back as you scream his name, squirting. He smirks sleepily at the sight, everything feeling dizzy and distant. 

Without warning, Gator cums again as you, rasping out another moan, pained with overstimulation before everything fades out.

•·················•·················•

“Hey, honey, c’mon- oh, oh thank fuck—“ You sigh, relieved as Gator comes to, delirious and lost on your panic. You place his limp wrists to your lips, kissing the spots worn raw from the cuffs.

It’s faint, but he smiles up at you as he rests over your lap, head still cradled in the pillows. “Hi, pretty thing.”

You giggle, gazing down at him, pushing the hair out of his eyes with one hand as you set his arms back down gently with the other.

“Are you okay?”

“M’great, angel. You ‘kay?” He drawls, hand weakly reaching for yours before you pull back from his face. He presses it against his face clumsily, staring up at you with all the adoration in the world.

From the few times you’ve been in control in the past, you can’t deny how much you love the way he so slowly comes out of subspace, clingy and needy for your doting, sweet aftercare. Over time, he’s grown more comfortable with letting you be extra sweet outside of the bedroom, but these moments are still something you hold dear to your heart.

There’s just something about the way you’re able to care for the one who’s always cared for and protected you almost your entire life.

“You sure? You passed out,” You’re still worried; now you know how he felt when you blacked out the time he begged you to sit on his face. “You scared the fuck outta me.”

“M’so good at that,” He turns over, curling in towards you, hand still holding yours. “You’re sticky.”

“Yeah, the one fuckin’ time I actually liked squirting, you passed out.”

Gator tries sitting up, but he’s too quick, dizzying himself further. You lean him back cautiously as he whines, “I missed that? Fuck… can we try again?” He eyes up the toys, all turned off and discarded, thrown to the foot of the bed.

“Not now—“

“Why not? Gimme like… ten minutes, I’ll be brand fuckin’ new for ya’, darlin’.” He even sounds drunk.

“Maybe later… like, way later. Wanna make sure you’re okay first, and totally need to clean the both of us up… and the bed.”

“Don’t ya’ gotta work?” He frowns, remembering and feeling guilty for throwing off your entire morning. But you just shrug it off.

“Yeah… I’m callin’ off.” You run your hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp soothingly. “Takin’ care of you is more important.”

The adoration the two of you have for one another only grows after each scene, and right now, Gator’s looking up at you like you’re his entire world. 

Because, honestly, you are, and vice versa. He can’t wrap his head around the idea of moments like this being the new forever for the two of you.

Instead of sharing those feelings, Gator fumbles around for the right words before rasping out, “… So, that means we’re fuckin’ again, right?”

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman smut #tramps like us #part time soulmate full time problem #my fics

[ominous-arcade]

Been in a dude mood lately!

#fnaf #art tag #phone dude #fnaf phone dude #fnaf 3 #yes thats a fazent tramp stamp. do we have a problem here

[shibaraki]

gojo satoru has a tramp stamp it is real and canon to me

#gojo satoru with a tramp stamp and a whale tail ooohhhhuucuhdhhh . #him and aizawa #I think I have a problem #m.satoru

[antifragilejpn]

there’s a rat in the backyard 🥲

#personal #feels like that scene from lady and the tramp where the rat gets in the house #if it gets in the house i will simply ✨pass away✨ #but zeus saw something and i was like ??? #and then i saw this lump and went to go outside but as soon as i opened the door it scattered #but like under the shed #so this is a problem for later

[emma-before-dark]

My current audio obsession. This one is an odd one, for me (and I imagine a lot of other lgbt+ people). Childhood isn't something I'm nostalgic for, its something I didn't experience and desperately wish i did. Sure I can remember Saturday morning cartoons, playing at friends houses, the occasional care free week at grandma's. What I remember better though is periods of despair and having a parent convincing me mental health care was a scam, missing my opportunities to get ADHD and Autism screenings while on insurance that covered them because "no your not, you just need to run around outside more", suffering through insomnia and ED related acid reflux untreated because "those aren't problems kids have", trying desperately to escape who I am due to all the horrible things people around me were saying about queer people, cramming 6 people into an apartment designed for two because we were all out of the house and supporting ourselves by 17. I love my parents, and our relationship has come a long way in the past few years, but there will always be a ball of resentment against them, and a sense of mourning for a childhood I never had.

#marisa maino #growing up can go to hell #yes its one of the Tramp Stamps peeps but i really like her solo work #a letter to the childhood i never got #Spotify #lgbt problems #trans problems #nuerodivergent

[corporealconcept]

I thought that I might’ve been an east german commie in a past life because while I was listening to an auto-generated playlist a song comes on that I swear I’ve never heard before and yet the melody resonates within my very blood and bones so I just accept that this is just a thinness in our temporal plane or whatever and that solange lorelei singt wird deutschland sein before I realize that the melody is the same as “god save ireland” which I have definitely heard before and would make a lot more sense for me to know

#folk music #this is the problem with listening to international war songs all the time #german #irish #shitpost #it’s also very the much the fact that it’s 2am and I needed to go to bed forever ago despite the fact that there is still so much work to d #anyway go listen to ami go home ‘cause it’s a banger #and before you come at me #yes I know the origins of tramp tramp tramp from the usa

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

#the rescuers #disney #101 dalmatians #perdita #miss bianca #rapunzel #tangled #princess and the frog #tiana #the three good fairies #flora #merriweather #fauna #snow white #sleeping beauty #Cinderella #ariel #the little mermaid #beauty and the beast #belle #aristocats #duchess #lady and the tramp #jasmine #aladdin #long #wish

[ye-olde-cider]

So I'm trying to make folk linen pants from sowing to sewing.

Second post (here's first)

It's been about 60 days since sowing (it's 22nd of June). It's looking so pretty and started blooming about 55th day. I've been watering it one or two wheelbarrows of every 2 weeks, which I thought would be too little but it's growing pretty good. It's still not that high (about over the knee) and I doubt it'll get much higher sadly. That means lower grade of fibers but whatever. It'll be fine.

Every now and again there are parts laying down and I've been seeing some hares running about so they probably hide in it tramping down the plants. But it gets up no problem so all good. Maybe next time I'll put up a little fence around it.

Also idk when should I harvest it bc all the info is about oil flax, not textile flax, and even then it's contradictory sometimes. But either way it's around 100-120th day, so we're still only halfway.

Next up I need to start thinking about scuthing it, and it requires some equipment. But it's easy enough to build on my own probably. It should be something like this flax-brake:

And then this kind of metal comb, which I'll make just by densly putting nails in a blank:

So yeah, that's the plans for the near future. Here's a bonus flax video if you stayed till the end ❤️

#mine #flax #linen #cottagecore #light academia #goblincore #farmcore #farming #gardening #folk #stroje ludowe #ludowe #len #earth to garment #sowing to sewing #fiber art #fiber crafts #textiles #textile art

[roosterforme]

Too Much to Lose | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Leaving for deployments had always been rough, but then Bradley met you, and the time apart and risk involved made the ache even stronger. But nothing felt quite as isolating and scary as acknowledging that he had to leave his pregnant wife with an uncertain future. Now more than ever, he had too much to lose.

Warnings: Angst, panic attack, mentions of smut, pregnancy topics

Length: 2300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley hated that he felt like he was going through the motions. You'd been clinging to him all day long, your eyes always on the verge of tears. His bags were packed, his flight would leave tomorrow morning, and there was nothing left for him to do at this point except wait. Wait for your tears to spill over. Wait for one last look at you for who knows how long. Wait for the official start of another deployment.

Getting hard for you was not the problem. Your lips were on his body, and his name was the only word you seemed capable of saying. Nothing ever felt as good as your touch, and you always smelled sweet. Best of all, you were carrying his baby. But the doubt still crept in, even as his body rocked against yours, even as he filled you up. Because for Bradley, this felt exactly like those months when you and he had been desperately trying to get pregnant. It felt like the two of you were focusing on an uncertain outcome instead of each other. 

"I love you, Roo." 

You had just uttered the most perfect words in your state of bliss, but he couldn't fully accept them. Why did you love him? How the fuck could you? Your hands came up to caress his face, and he was completely helpless to do a god damn fucking thing besides come for you.

"Oh god," he grunted, practically crying as you kissed his scars before gradually going limp beneath him. You were smiling as you rolled onto your side, but instead of joining you for one last cuddle, he made his excuses to retreat to the bathroom. 

Bradley splashed some cool water on his face and examined himself in the mirror. All he saw was someone who didn't know what he was doing. Someone who wasn't good enough for you. He hadn't felt this way a few days ago, rather he'd been absorbed with shopping for the baby. But the fear started to creep in around the edges today, and now it felt like it could strangle him if he let it.

Leaving home in this state could only spell disaster, but he couldn't shake it. At least when he finally managed to walk back into the bedroom, you were asleep on his pillow with one leg under the blanket and one on top. You could always make him smile, but this time when he did, he thought about what would happen next if he didn't come back. What would happen if he was no longer here to claim that pillow as his own. 

He checked his will a few days ago, and the thing was ironclad. It all went to you. Every last penny and possession. But that wasn't what had him rattled. Everything was ten times more exciting and also ten times scarier with the baby on the way. He had too much to lose. 

He kissed your forehead and then your belly, and he pulled the blanket over both of your legs, and then he went out to the living room with Tramp at his heels. The house still smelled delicious; you'd made him Marry Me Rooster and lemon cupcakes for dinner. You always pulled out the stops when he was leaving, and he loved you for it. But what the fuck were you getting in return?

He grabbed his phone from where he'd left it on the kitchen counter. You and he had been sharing a plate of dinner while he started to consider what your life would be like without him. You'd have the baby here with you, but you'd really be alone. It was too hard to breathe while he thought about it, so he unlocked his phone and dialed the only person who wouldn't think he'd gone completely off the deep end with his request.

"Bradshaw. Shouldn't you be enjoying your wife before you fly off into the sunset?"

"Hangman," he rasped, walking to the couch and collapsing down onto it. "I need to talk to you."

There was a brief pause before Jake said, "I'm all ears."

Bradley cleared his throat, feeling like an absolute idiot as he said, "I bought a jungle gym playset for my backyard. A really big one. For the baby."

Jake hummed and said, "Right." And somehow that was enough to make Bradley keep going. 

"It's on pallets. On my driveway. There's an instruction book on top of my refrigerator. Everything should be here."

"Okay," Jake said quietly. 

Bradley swallowed and swallowed, his throat burning as he managed to force out the rest of the words. "If anything happens to me, I need you to... build it."

The only thing he could hear was Jake's soft breathing before he muttered, "Shit." 

Bradley ran his palm back and forth over his face as tears streaked down his cheeks. "Hangman. I need you to promise. I need that fucking thing in the yard."

"Yeah," Jake grunted. "Yeah, I promise."

Bradley sucked in a deep breath before he added, "And I need you to promise to take care of her. Take care of them. Make sure she knows you're around if they need something. Make sure she knows she can go to you and Cat for help."

There was no way to tell if the barely controlled sobs were his own or Jake's as he held the phone tighter to his ear, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, Rooster. I'll take care of Angel. I promise."

Bradley managed to choke out two words before ending the call. "Thank you." His phone fell from his hand onto the floor, and he curled up on his side. He thought about his dad. Goose died during a training exercise. If the most basic parts of Bradley's job could become deadly, he was honestly tempting fate at this point. Was this still the right thing to do? With a baby on the way? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Both of his parents were gone before he was an adult. If he made it just a few more years, he would live to be older than either of them had. This wasn't the first time he'd thought about that number, but right now, he was having a hard time catching his breath. 

Forty. Carole died when she was forty years old.

Thirty-seven. Bradley was just three years away.

"Fuck," he gasped as he rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was nauseous and dizzy, and his chest was aching like there was something pressing down on him. Something heavy. He shouldn't leave you alone now, because he might never come back. He might never get to meet the Nugget who he was already so in love with. The baby might never have a dad at all, but at least Bradley got to have one of those for a short time. He could remember little bits of how it felt when Nick Bradshaw picked him up, and the soft laughter in his voice when he read a bedtime story. But the Nugget deserved more than that. This baby deserved everything, including a dad who was already so devoted that it hurt. A perfect mom and a loving dad, just like Bradley had once upon a time.

He could feel Tramp licking his elbow and whimpering, but he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't move at all. He needed to catch his breath. He started counting in his head but couldn't keep track of how far he'd gotten. He wanted to meet his kid. He needed to.

"Bradley?"

Your voice was the most perfect sound in the world, and when you spoke his name, he had a visceral reaction to it. Then your hand was on his cheek, and the heavy feeling lifted away a little bit. 

"Oh, Bradley."

You replaced your hand with your lips, and he could feel how warm you were as your body came to rest on his. Your voice and touch invaded him in place of that terrifying weight on his chest. He felt safer because it was you. And the baby, too. When he opened his eyes, you looked concerned, and he hated to be the cause of that.

His voice didn't sound like his own, but you looked relieved as he said, "Sweetheart."

All he could focus on was the steady stroking of your fingers through his hair and your lips on his. "Tell me what's wrong, Roo," you whispered between soft kisses. "Talk to me."

He wasn't sure how long it took or how you managed to do it, but he ended up sitting on the couch with you curled up in his lap, ready to talk. Your cheek was resting against his heart, and his hand was under his old gym shirt that you were wearing, pressed to your belly. He wanted to tell you everything he was thinking. He wanted you to understand. But all he could say was, "I'm scared."

You nodded and hummed softly. "Me too."

When he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in tighter, he asked, "Then why do I keep doing this? The last thing I'd ever want to do is scare you."

Your fingers found their way back up into his hair. "It's scarier this time, because of the baby," you whispered. "But you're an amazing pilot, and you love flying, and that's important, too."

"Not as important as you," he swore immediately. "Never as important as the Nugget. I just don't know if the risk is worth it anymore." He swallowed hard but let the tears slide down his cheeks again. "What if I burn in or get shot down before the baby is even born? Then what? Because I had no fucking clue until pretty recently how badly I want to be a dad."

"Come here," you whispered, your arms winding around his neck as you straddled his hips. You didn't seem alarmed by this conversation as you ran the tip of your nose back and forth along his cheek, letting him get used to feeling calm again. "It's all risky, Roo. All of it. We've talked about it before, and the facts are never going to change. But being married to you is worth it. Having to figure out how to potentially live without you is a risk I'm willing to take for the chance to be with you now."

"Fuck," he whispered, melting into your touch. 

"You're worth everything," you told him sincerely. "Getting to hold you right now is worth every bad feeling that might come later."

All he could do was nod, because he felt exactly the same way about you. But there was another layer. Another wrinkle. It was with a steadier voice that he managed to say, "I don't want to end up like my parents. Or worse... I don't want to miss the chance to meet the baby altogether."

You leaned away from him a little bit, running your knuckles gently along his cheek. "You promised me you would always fight for the chance to come home again."

"Always. Please, don't ever doubt that I will fight until my last breath, Baby Girl."

Now you had tears in your eyes. "I never knew I could feel this loved. And you've already given the Nugget so much of yourself through your notebooks and your little private conversations with my belly where you pretend I can't hear you." Bradley laughed as you touched his face and neck. You kissed his forehead and whispered, "He or she is going to be just like you. I can tell already. And you'll fight your way back home to find out for sure."

"I will," he promised, throat tight with love instead of fear this time. "God, I fucking adore you."

As he ran his thumb around the diamond in your engagement ring which once belonged to his mother, you said, "I know it."

Twenty minutes later, once Bradley felt almost completely calm again, you stood and disappeared into the kitchen. He missed your warmth immediately. It was late now, and he knew you both needed to get a good night of sleep, but you insisted you knew what else would make him feel better. Just when he was about to say that the only thing he wanted to do was hold you in bed, you returned with a plate and a steaming mug. 

You settled onto his lap again, so certain that was where you belonged and where he always wanted you. He took a sip of the tea while you nibbled on the lemon cupcake, then you held it up to his lips for him to take a bite. He ate half of it in one go, making you smile. 

When you took another nibble, he whispered, "I'll be home in no time. Back with my perfect wife. My family."

You gently shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth as you smiled and said, "We'll be here waiting for you."

You started kissing his scars as he chewed and muttered, "Let's go to bed, Sweetheart."

He was still thinking about his brief conversation with Jake as you stretched out on your back and let him run one big hand along your belly and down to your tattoo. Bradley touched you everywhere, memorizing the softness and flawless warmth of your body with the Nugget. He would come back home to this because he had to. He would be here to construct the jungle gym himself. There was simply no other choice. 

"I love you both."

---------------------------

That phone call between Bradley and Jake made me cry. Bradley has been dreaming of that jungle gym playset in the backyard for so long, he needs the guarantee that it will happen for his Nugget even if he's not there to see it through to the end. BG always knows what to do when he's struggling, but she's not going to be there to take care of him while he's deployed. In the next one-shot, we'll see how Bradley and Payback are holding up while away. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who reads and interacts and makes this pairing so fun to write!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #too much to lose

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

JJK MASTERLIST

Toji Fushiguro

Needy

Drabble 1

Nanami Kento

Sweat for me

Whiskey

It's just a cigarette

Drabble 1

Tall!reader x Nanami

Drabble 2

Baking with him

Choso Kamo

Blow me

My pretty pussy

Biker!Choso

Drabble 1

Headcanons + Drabbles

Relationship Hcs (Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, and Choso)

Lactation Kink 🫣

Genshin mains

Yuki

Drabble 1

Smaus

Calling them ugly (prank)

Mosquito problems

Video Games

Tramp stamp

Baby Pics

Insecurities

Drunk I miss you (y/n)

Drunk I miss you (them)

Sending them nudes

Buying you lingerie

You give them an edible

You ask them for help

Baby Pics pt.2

Baby Pics pt.3

Gym pics

Jealous girl

Thirst pic

Insecurities (them)

Finding your smut

You find their smut

They find your toy

Attitude

Telling them us?

They find your diary

Jealous guys

They cheat on you

It was just a dream 💀

You buy them a shirt

Walk at 1 am prank

Tinder

"It was so good last night" prank

Their name on your panties

You're the daddy

Baby Pics pt.4

Unknown number

Ass or tits

I'm outside your house

JJK x-links

Part 1

Part 2

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #jjk choso #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #choso fluff #kamo choso #nanami fluff

[privitivium]

Overstimming motherly!Yan after getting into a fight w/ them?🙇‍♀️

these r more just rambles i'm tryna do all my mother requests ,,,, they give me .... inspiration,,, sorry for any mistakes!!!!

overstimming afab motherly yan...

cw;; tying him up; bondage. vibrators..... him crying, anal, no use of condoms....

uaghhgh afab motherly yan bf aaughhaugh. sound of yearning. having enough of his jealousy,,, you gotta treat him straight up to get it through his head that hes the only one you love. getting upset as he asks you if you would rather fuck that little tramp serving drinks around a damn house party you were at.. my god! mother, please... growing upset enough that you decide to use this anger towards something good. and.. just because he was bigger, didn't mean that he was stronger..

"gosh, isn't that smell just the best..?" you murmur to yourself, admiring his spread lips, organ darkened in a flush from the overstimulation you were putting him through.. mothers' cunt messy with cum, squirting all over himself and sobbing, hair splayed out along the soft surface you laid his tied up frame on... pussy on complete display for you to ogle at like you were at a damn art museum - which isnt too far off.

inching closer and closer... until your lips nearly ghost over his inner labia,,,watching his pussy flutter at your cruel actions of blowing softly at his cunt; hearing him cry out yr name,,, trying to buck the mechanism off his pussy. mother heaving, tears streaming down his glazed eyes onto the pillows cushioning his head so nicely.... you were resisting the urge to bury your nose in his pussy and inhale deeply. god, to have a candle the scent of his sex,,,, so pretty and smells so good,,,, palming your erection, as you lean back, standing straight and hovering over his naked, sweat-slickened frame; knees hiked up and spread; thighs tied to his arms in an exposing position. body drenched in his mess of urine of squirting and cum.. he murmurs your name breathlessly, saliva glossed lips parted in a soft mewl as he relentlessly squirms, an orgasm wracking his thick body once more,,,

"ma, cmon.. you look so pretty!!" your soft laughs only only make him more upset.. writhing, grinding his teeth together and trying to squirm free from the overworking vibrator that was pressed to his puffy clit,, so sensitive,,, mothers legs writhing to be free from his restraints... before you take pity. deciding it was enough (wanting to ease yr cock and use him further.. ) and cutting him free; taking advantage of his weakened state and his messy hole you favored fingering rather than his pussy... laying him on his side, lifting his leg up and sliding into his stretched ass with no problem with yr tip bullying passed his walls besides his soft cries,,, his fingers moving down to touch himself despite being ever so weak and overstimulated - restraining him, restricting him from doing so, as you slowly hump into his loosened hole,, doing it for him. Fingertips dancing down his abdomen.. sliding over his sensitive clit and relishing in the way his ass tenses around your cock whilst simultaneously pushing back onto you; crying out your name like it was the only thing he knew how to say, followed by soft apologies and i love yous,,, uaghhggh

;; amab mother thought... ;;;

i can't stop thinking about fucking him in a full nelson..,.,, his dick smeared and oozing cum, dangling inbetween his equally messy thighs; trembling as you fuck in and out of his taint roughly without care, fueled by your adrenaline from the mild lovers' spat - keeping him upright as you repeatedly grind along his prostate. uncaring for his own dilemma.. crying - sobbing out so beautifully,,, tears cascading down his darkened face, flushed, trying to shift off of your cock but at the same time uagahh it feels so good,,, mothers poor predicament of hopping off your cock or just takin it and letting you use his body.. is it obvious which one he chooses?? i hope it is. letting him lay down after chasing your high, spilling yr seed in him, plugging him up to keep it in there... hand trailing over his shrunken cock and sucking softly on his nipples, squeezing at the tit ur suckin; him mewling your name and shakily running his fingertips along ur scalp,,, GODDD aauagh

#motherly yan! #male reader #x male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #sub male character #bottom male character

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first morning together in Brooklyn doesn’t go as smoothly as you would’ve hoped, but that’s on brand for your relationship with Gator by now.

Still beats being stuck in the Midwest by a long shot.

CW/tags: language, internalized ableism, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff, PTSD, smut, PiV sex, dirty talk

WC: 6.8k

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist here. ✧.┊read on AO3 〙

A/N: hi y’all! not much to add here except things will pick up more after this chapter, but I hope y’all enjoy reading this still! Tysm for any support on this so far, I’m glad even a handful of y’all are enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it 🥹🫶🏻

chapter 3 ✧. ┊

slip the noose - the maine

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ I was on the verge of breaking down / then you came around / and not a second too late ♬ ₊˚.

·········

Nightmares were bound to happen after the torture Gator endured. You anticipated them, and he was already experiencing them with the little sleep he got in the hospital.

The first night in your apartment, you hoped you’d both be able to sleep through most of the night, at least. Instead, it was broken for you both.

You’d wake up every so often, panicking that Gator never made it home, only to realize he did make his way to you; an arm thrown over you while his breaths stayed steady. You didn’t even have your own usual nightmare, it was just muscle memory to come back to consciousness, scared and frantically feeling out the usually empty side of your bed. Out of instinct, your arm shot out, accidentally hitting Gator’s side, waking him up.

“Don’t remember you bein’ a sleep puncher, Jesus Christ,” He muttered as he tightened his hold around you. “M’right here, darlin’.”

“You’d say that, and then you’d leave. You’d tell me to stay brave and try to calm me down, an- and— ” Your eyes adjusted to the darkness around the both of you, just enough to be able to make out the outline of Gator next to you. As your bottom lip wobbled, you realized it really was just a dream, yet you couldn’t help whispering, “Don’t go.”

With a comforting forehead kiss, he rasped out, “Wouldn’t go anywhere without you, I promise.”

After Gator would calm you down, falling back asleep with you, some hours would pass before he was the one waking you up with his own painful, twisted dreams.

His were much, much worse than yours. They’d start with a whimper, so soft, you’d almost miss it if it weren’t for the way his body would tremble violently next to you, shaking you awake.

You hummed, confused as your eyes adjusted to the darkness again. Once Gator brought his legs toward himself, almost in a fetal position, trying to make himself small, trying to hide, that’s when concern would kick in, waking you up faster.

Attempting to gently shake him awake was useless, whimpers turning into crying as he would shield his face with his hands, something he wished he could’ve tried the first time around.

“Gator, baby, it’s okay, you’re safe,” You struggled for the right words to comfort him; he could reassure you that he was back, that a chance at a real life together was safe and sound, but you couldn’t give him that reassurance in return. His eyesight would never be the same again. He’d never get that time lost to that grim weak back. His life was drastically altered by the frightening attack, and you knew he’d be blaming himself forever.

The crying turned to cries for help, growing louder as his voice would crack with desperation. You didn’t want to scare him, but all you could think of doing next was holding him, telling him over and over that he was safe, that he’s so, so far from the place and people that failed him. That you wouldn’t let anyone hurt him like that ever again.

When Gator jolted awake, he looked at you, hyperventilating, but relieved to see you, to see he wasn’t back in his personal hell on earth. Then the realization that he could only see you, see anything with one eye, would hit like a ton of bricks; his hands would tremble as they reached his face, calloused fingers running over the bandage over his eye— or, rather, the spot it once belonged to.

Everything would rush back; every detail of his vivid nightmare was real, something he couldn’t ever wake up from unscathed.

·········

Gator’s the first to wake up, squinting as he throws his arm over his face, blocking out the sunlight tumbling through the large, old windows.

“Thought ya’ liked blackout curtains. Jesus it’s fuckin’ bright,” He grumbles as his limbs wind around you from behind. His face ducks into the crook of your neck to shield himself from the painful brightness.

You answer, barely awake, “I do, they don’t make ‘em that tall though. Or maybe they do. I dunno. Who fuckin’ cares.” You’re grumpy, already feeling the weight of the broken sleep you got heavy on your body. “Go back to sleep.”

Gator sighs, frustrated. He doesn’t want to make a big deal; he meant it last night when he said he didn’t want to disrupt your life with his needs… but that’s just it, they’re needs. Learning to push his pride aside to ask for help is going to be a routine challenge for a while.

Just as you’re slipping back into slumber, it hits you.

“Oh, oh my god, fuck, wait— ” You roll over to find Gator’s eye scrunched shut. “M’so sorry, I forgot—“

“Y’just found out last night, I don’t expect ya’ to remember everythin’ at once.” He buries his face in the pillow before giving a muffled response, “M’not supposed to stay in the dark all the time, ‘cause that can make the sensitivity worse. But they don’t want me exposin’ my eye to too much light either, that’ll just trigger migraines and whatever. There’s no winnin’ with this shit.”

“Where’s your glasses? I can grab em’ quick, would that help?” You don’t want to come off overbearing, but you don’t just want to shrug his needs off either. 

“Don’t, not yet. Just… c’mere,” He throws the comforter over the two of you as you scoot closer. He reaches out for your hips, and your arms find their way to his shoulders, resting lazily on one another. It’s not pitch black, but it’s a major difference regardless. “There. Problem solved without gettin’ up.”

“Yeah, ‘til we get sweaty and suffocate under here,” You giggle as you rest your head on his chest. It’s so relieving to hear his heartbeat again, but right now, it’s picking up its pace.

“Won’t get too hot unless we start fuckin’ around.” Gator jokes as his thumbs stroke along the skin under your shirt. It really was a joke, but it makes him painfully aware of how hard he’s been since waking up. “Unless y’wanna find out for sure.”

“Oh, that was real smooth, Tillman,” You snort, ever so gently slotting your leg between his, giving just enough pressure to make him shudder. “Guess we should find out, y’know… for science.”

He laughs— a sound you’ve been aching to hear again— head falling forward onto your shoulder. “Yeah, sure thing, freak. For science.” You’re already sliding down his body, pausing at the hem of his shirt, rolling it upward and kissing along his body until you pull it off of him. 

Gator’s blushing when you roll your hips slowly, teasing the two of you together. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your soft, plushy curves once he reaches your hips again. You lean in closer, hearing his breath hitch as he waits patiently for your next move.

“You want me to make y’feel good? Let me show you how much I missed you?”

His hips buck up into you, “Uh-huh, p- please.” He leans up to kiss you, impatient, but you softly push him back into the pillows, earning a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine, all raspy but desperate. His fingers tighten on your hips.

“Can you be good for me?” Your question sends his blood rushing south, cock twitching as it tries kicking underneath you. He nods wildly, breaths shallow as he watches you strip your shirt off, left only in your underwear; Gator’s thumbs sneak underneath the thin straps of the sheer pair, hands sliding back to your ass.

You sigh at his touch, finally leaning down to kiss him, soft and slow, a pace he doesn’t want right now, but one he needs. You want to take your time with him, make him forget about everything for even a moment.

The two of you try to take over with your own paces; you’re giving soft, open mouthed kisses, until Gator bites your bottom lip, pulling it out just a bit before releasing it. He shoots a mischievous grin your way.

With an eye roll, you sigh, “Why are you being a brat?”

“I dunno,” Gator shrugs, stifling a laugh, “New year, new me.”

“Alright, I’m done,” You swing your leg over him to roll out of the makeshift blanket fort, but his hands, still on you, bring you back. You yelp and laugh as he rolls on top of you. “Gator!”

“I know you wanna be sweet,” Gator showers your face in kisses, pulling soft giggles out of you. “And I want that too, trust me, but it’s fuckin’ hot under here,” His goofy demeanor falls off as he reaches your neck, kisses slowing to a teasing crawl, sucking along the sensitive skin. Instinctively, your hips roll up into his with a whimper; Gator chuckles into your neck, “and I just need t’be in you already.”

“Need y- you too,” your voice barely reaches above a whisper, greedy hands— one grabbing his waistband to drag his boxers down, the other reaching out to lazily palm and stroke him. He bucks into your touch as breathy groans fan out along your skin.

Gator holds himself up with his casted arm, ignoring the pain the pressure brings while the other reluctantly pushes your hand away from his throbbing length, turning your whines of protest into jaw-dropping silence as he pushes into you slowly.

Shuddering out a harsh, shaky breath, you admit, “F- fuck, I forgot how big you are.”

Gator’s usual cocky smirk, the one you once hated, plays up on his features as he lets your confession go to his head. “It’s okay, darlin’, I’ll remind ya’.” He pulls back to snap back in, teasingly slow, while he slides his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good. Missed you so much.”

You grab his face, crashing your lips onto his, moans growing louder as he gradually thrusts faster, the two of you unable to get enough of one another. The more he stretches you out, the harder your nails dig into his skin as they drag down his back. The deeper he gets, the more obscene your soft, sweet moans become.

When he pulls back, you’re able to sneak in a rushed, “Missed you more,” before Gator’s hand is pushed against your mouth. Despite being muffled, you still squeak in surprise.

“You’re gon’ wake up the whole fuckin’ house with that filthy mouth,” Gator growls, weakening into a moan as your walls tighten around him. Despite being muffled, you’re still noisy. “Jesus, darlin’, you want the whole city to hear ya’?” 

Both of your hands wrap around his wrist, pulling his hand off of your face while looking up at Gator. “Maybe.”

“What happened to bein’ sweet?” Gator doesn’t give you a chance to answer before slamming into you. A breathy cry slips out when he snaps his hips into you again, harder, deeper. “Want everyone to know you’re mine, huh?”

“Uh-huh… m’yours, Gator,” You whimper. His pace is steady and rough, grunting with each thrust.

“Gonna show everyone you’re mine, too,” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your neck, which turns to sucking along your skin, to biting, making sure he really leaves his mark behind. As he leaves rough love bites down your neck, across your shoulder, along your chest, all while fucking you mercilessly, your eyes roll back with each moan of yours sounding sharper and shattered.

Lips wrapped around one of your hardened peaks, Gator sucks the sensitive spot, finding an odd satisfaction in the way the jewelry of your piercings clash against his teeth. Your fingers wind through his hair, tugging softly, at first, but when his touch ends up on your clit, you jolt, roughly pulling his hair.

“Oh— fu- fuck,” You’re a mess; you wanted the first time after reuniting to be sweet, sentimental, even, but as you’re falling apart, you realize this is what you really needed from Gator. 

“Fuck it,” He murmurs, kissing back up your body while shoving the blanket off the two of you. You, of course, immediately panic, squinting as you adjust to the harsh morning light.

Your hands splayed across his chest, trying to push him back and cover the windows somehow. “No, wait, waitwaitwait- you’re gonna get a migr—“ Gator grabs your wrists in one hand to pin above your head, your face in another, considerate and careful with the healing face wound, thumb tracing your bottom lip as he slows his thrusts. 

The whine you release is borderline pathetic, triggering his signature smirk yet again, filling you to the hilt before stopping completely. You pant, squirming beneath him, desperate for him to fucking move.

“Angel,” He rasps, breath shallow, “I’m sayin’ this with all the love in the world: shut the fuck up.” Gator crashes his lips onto yours, silencing your filthy sounds of pleasure with urgent, needy kisses. At the same time, he nearly pulls out, only to slam back into you, resuming his relentless pace from earlier. 

It’s not like the two of you are only making up for lost time from the past week and change, you’re making up for lost time in the last ten years. Of what could’ve been— maybe.

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have been the right time or place if the two of you tried back then. Maybe you’re both right where you’re supposed to be, now. And if it’s the two of you seriously starting your relationship in a city neither of you are from, navigating similar traumas while supporting one another through the individual ones, while fucking each other senseless any chance you get, you’ll take it.

When Gator pulls away, his hands grab your legs from the back, pushing them back towards you, filling you even deeper. “Baby, baby, please—” Your mind is going numb, with only thoughts of Gator ruining you right now. “Y- you’ll let me be sweet next— oh, god— ” He throws his head back as you feel yourself fluttering around him. “— next t- time, right?”

“I’ll let ya’ do anythin’ you want if you can cum for me,” He pants, hips stuttering, “‘Cause I’m real fuckin’ close… shit— want y’to cum with me, can y’do that?”

Your answer only comes in the form of shakily rubbing your clit, only for a moment, before Gator swats your hand away, replacing it with his. He releases your legs to lean back down to you, admiring the way you’re coming undone.

“That’s it, darlin’, takin’ me so well,” He murmurs, tensing up as you feel him pulsate within you. “F- fuck m’close.”

Your back arches into him, and he takes the opportunity to slide his arm under, pulling you closer while watching your eyes roll back, not even bothering to hold back the sounds Gator’s been aching to hear the most. Your body tenses up, shaking, while you grab his face, kissing him roughly— and that’s what finally sends Gator over the edge with you.

Between frenzied kisses, both of you spill rushed, murmured praises and phrases to one another, adding to the chaos of moans and groans. Rough or soft, fast or slow, everything always comes back to the love you have for one another.

As he begins to catch his breath, Gator pulls back with his hand back on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “I really fuckin’ missed you.”

You raise your brows, smirking, “I think you just missed fucking me.”

Gator opens his mouth to protest but shrugs, “Yeah, that too.” 

Giggling, you reply, “I missed you, Gator.” You softly place your hand over his eye. “Go put your glasses on before you get a migraine, asshole.” 

“Well, I can’t, because I can’t fuckin’ see when you do that,” He laughs it off when you pull your hand back, cringing at yourself.

 “… My bad,” You shoot an apologetic smile.

“Also… I’m really comfy right now, darlin’.” He lays on your chest, still inside. As you give a forced, comical sigh, your phone goes off. You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone and a box of tissues to eventually clean off with. Unlocking your phone, you find a new message from Ivy.

 Y’all are SO lucky no one else is home. 💀

“Oh my god, fuck.” Your face falls, mortified.

Gator doesn’t move, “What’s wrong?”

“I thought no one was home—” You admit, going over everyone’s schedules in your head. You knew them by heart by now.

Except for Ivy and her goddamn chaotic nurse schedule.

“So that’s why you were so loud,” He teases.

“Yeah, except poor Ives heard us,” You feel your face heat up, quickly typing an apology to Ivy. Gator’s head snapped up from the spot he lay on your chest, looking horrified.

“Fuck. So much for a good first impression.” He slips out of you, both of you too distracted by your mistake to whine about the loss of one another. 

“You’re fine, it’s just this old house’s dang vents. No one else in the house can hear up here except Ivy.” You explain, dragging a hand down your face. “She heard me wake up the other night from—“ You stop yourself, not wanting to guilt Gator with more details about your nightmares.

One night of Gator experiencing you waking up in a panic was more than he needed to know, or see.

“From… ?” Gator brow quirks, waiting for you to finish the thought.

You wave your hand, like it’s nothing, “Just a dumb nightmare, nothin’ to worry about.”

Gator sits up, studying your face while you try distracting yourself, texting Ivy more apologies.

I owe you a coffee. And new headphones. Or earplugs. I’m SO sorry.

Your phone’s yanked from your hands after pressing send. “Hey! What gives?” 

Gator’s holding it in the arm farthest from you, behind his back, out of reach from you. “You’re the worst liar.” He’s always been able to see right through you when you try brushing off your feelings. “‘Nothin’ to worry about’ usually means it is somethin’ to worry ‘bout.”

With a sigh, you ask, “Can we talk about this later? Please?” You reach over him, grabbing your phone back; he doesn’t really put up a fight about it anyway. You read Ivy’s responses while Gator throws his shirt and boxers back on before wandering around the room.

You’re fine, but we should definitely tell Bea we need to fix this lmao.

Also my headphones are noise cancelling 😂 but I’ll totally take you up on the coffee 🥰 

Curiosity leads him along the wall filled with film and concert posters, art, and a generous amount of photos with or of your friends; it makes him smile, seeing all the memories you’ve made since moving here. You finally got the life you wanted, the life you deserved.

Yet there’s a pang of sadness in his chest when he realizes he missed out on a whole decade of your life. An entire decade of you growing into your own person. A long, painful decade without you. 

Celebrating your firsts, tiny and mighty, like getting your first job out here, first time you figured out the subway without a map, what kind of face you must’ve made when you got your first tattoo, because Gator knows you make over dramatic faces just when getting blood drawn.

Or your first Halloween out of your parents’ home, where enjoying the holiday was forbidden; they believed it had some kind of demonic connotation, when you just loved having one day of the year to be someone you weren’t. A tiny escape from your dark reality.

What was it like opening your own little bookstore? He wishes he could’ve heard you ramble forever when you were planning it out. Or watch your heart melt in real time over the stray cats that made themselves at home in the bookshelves. 

Gator noticed at the edge of the wall some older photos, tacked up on the surface. As he got closer, he noticed most of them were with your sister, along with little pictures she drew for you. Scribbles and doodles that you cherished enough to laminate.  

Then, he saw them, some pictures of the two of you. Three of them.

The first photo was a memory Gator had forgotten until now; you were kids, running around on a gorgeous spring day, picking dandelions to make wishes on as you’d blow on them, like candles. Except, the photo caught the exact moment you blew yours directly into Gator’s face, leaving him with a scrunched, sour face while you giggled, having too much fun to notice at first.

A photobooth strip is the second photo, or set of photos; you’re both a few years older, probably in middle school. Looking back at him are 4 preteen camera-ready faces: your hand posed in a peace sign behind his head for bunny ears, his fingers pinched your cheeks as he laughed at your reaction, both of you crossing your eyes and sticking your tongues out, with the last shot the two of you laughing together— both at and with one another.

There’s something in all 4 shots that sticks out like a sore thumb: a handprint shaped bruise, prominent in a shadowed grip around your forearm, and the incredibly dark circles under Gator’s eyes.

The memory of that day rushes back to him, after staying buried for so long. 

With the slightest bit of pressure on your arm, Gator grabbed your arm to lead you into the mall’s outdated arcade. Immediately, you hissed and yanked it back. He glanced back at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Your answer was quick, a little too quick for his liking. He reached out again to take a look at your arm, touch light and cautious this time. 

You were covering a large, handprint shaped bruise, wrapped around your arm, and Gator’s not sure how he missed it earlier. Even with your hand attempting to hide the bruise, it was still clear what it was from.

 “Last night?”

That was all he had to ask for you to nod, because he knew. He knew all too well how your father always treated you, but now the bastard wasn’t even trying to hide the evidence. 

You were well aware of the damage Gator’s father was leaving on him, too. Even if only through words, it was a lot of emotional neglect and manipulation. If not on him, then on Nadine, and Gator hadn’t been able to sleep most nights when he knew something sinister was going on behind closed doors.

“Y’had a rough night too, I guess.” Gator frowned, confused, until you pointed at the heavily shadowed bags under his eyes. He nodded, almost numb to it all by now. At least, he pretended to be.

No further words were exchanged on the abuse either of you endured regularly. This was just how things would end up. Not that one didn’t care about the other, or want to help, but you both knew your situations, vastly different, still held a similar weight in consequences. There wasn’t much more for either of you to do to help the other, so these conversations lead to finding ways to stay distracted, to cheer one another up.

That day, Gator insisted on using the arcade’s photobooth, only intended as a distraction, but it’d later become a memory you both appreciated, even if life was bleak behind it all.

“Bet I can make funnier faces than you,” You teased as you slid into the booth, knowing Gator always loved a good challenge.

He slid in next to you with a smirk, “You’re on.”

Gator moves onto the last photo before getting too caught up in the photobooth memory. He immediately recognizes it from the nights the two of you would go to the drive in. Sometimes, Willow came along, and this is definitely a photo she took.

It’s a little shaky, but the image shows you curled up next to Gator, head on his shoulder while you’re dead asleep. His arm is slung around your shoulders, holding you close as he’s also snoozing away. Both of you were tucked under a blanket in the bed of his truck. He remembers asking Willow for a copy of the photo after she showed him, and kept it in his wallet for the longest time.

It made no sense to Gator; when you left home, the parting gift you graciously gave him was a silent, cold, middle finger from across the street. 

… Why would you bring these with you, hundreds of miles from home, if you hated him back then?

Your arms wrap around Gator’s waist from behind, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“H- hi, darlin’.”

“Sorry, did you wanna be alone?”

 “Huh? Oh,” Gator turned to face you, still in your embrace. “No, no. Just surprised you have these here.”

You lean to the side, looking around him at the childhood memories. “Yeah, of course I’d have ‘em.”

“But you hated me when you moved… why bring them with you if you hated me?”

“I still loved the memories.” You admit, looking up at him. “It hurt, but it hurt more to think about leavin’ these behind. I couldn’t leave you behind completely.”

It wasn’t the answer Gator expected, but he still accepted it graciously.

“C’mon, I bet Lovebug’s gonna want more cuddles from ya’.” You try moving past the weight of this conversation and the unfinished previous one. “You want any coffee? M’gonna make some.” You’re already heading for the stairs.

Gator watches you before eventually following, “No thanks, darlin’. Can’t really have it anymore… or any caffeine, really.”

He’s only halfway down the set of stairs when you snap your head up from your spot in the kitchenette. “Wait, seriously?” 

He looks around for his glasses, finding them in the window nook, where Lovebug is curled up next to them. When Gator grabs his glasses, Lovebug makes a chirping purr, head instantly pushing into his hand with affection. 

“Hey, lil’ guy,” He scratches his head for a moment before heading back to you, glasses on. They’re different from the ones you saw last night, lenses darker— as if that was even possible— than the ones from last night.

Confused, you ask, “How many pairs do you have?”

“Just these, they’re those… uh, what are they called? Transition lenses? They’re supposed to adjust to being indoors and outdoors, or whatever.” You notice Gator keeps ending his explanations with a “or whatever”, like he’s trying to brush it all off. Like if he keeps acting like this drastic life change isn’t that big of a deal, maybe he can cope with it easily.

“Must be more helpful to have one less pair to worry about, huh?” You try to keep the conversation lighthearted, but it doesn’t earn much of a reaction from Gator. “So, uh, why can’t you have caffeine anymore?”

He slumps into the chair at the small table, head in his hands while he tries avoiding the sunlight of the window right next to the kitchen. “Somethin’ ‘bout adding too much pressure to the eye. I can’t remember.” His mood is falling pretty fast, leaving you concerned. 

“Okay, well— ah, fuck.” You open the cabinet, finding only a bag of coffee grounds, not even tea to offer him, and certainly no food. The last thing on your mind was running errands while waiting for Gator to finally get here. “… I might have to go grab groceries. You don’t gotta come with me, though, just gimme a list of what you—”

“I’ll come with ya’, it’s no trouble,” though he means what he says, Gator sounds so exhausted. 

You turn to lean against the counter, arms crossed over your chest as you chew on your bottom lip while you think. Maybe he just needs another day to chill out; it was a rough trip after over a week, nearly two weeks, maybe— you weren’t sure anymore when the days began to blur together— of straight pain and heartbreak for Gator.

“We can just hang here if you want, and go to the store tomorrow. I’ll order food— please tell me you like bagels, I can’t remember— ”

“Yeah, f’course I do. Who doesn’t like bagels?”

“People without souls.” You joke dryly, lifting a laugh out of Gator, easing your worry a little. “We can just take it easy today, okay? And I’ll figure out what to do about these— ”You point at the windows aggressively, “— maybe find some long ass curtains, or somethin’. I dunno. We’ll figure it out, though.”

Gator gets up to pull you into a hug, kissing your forehead, too. “Thank you.”

“Y’gotta stop thankin’ me for the bare minimum, babe. This is your home, too.” You tease while returning the hug. “Now, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I really need a shower. Wanna join?”

·········

The bathroom’s dark interior was soothing to the ache in Gator’s head, an inevitable migraine on the horizon from the light everywhere else in the apartment. Between that and just relaxing with you, his mood seemed to have lifted a bit.

The idea of a shower fell off once Gator saw the massive, clawfoot tub. The two of you ended up getting comfortable in a hot bath instead, turning pruny as a conversation carried on. 

“Would surgery help?” You ask while sinking into the water, leaning back into Gator’s chest. You feel him shrug against your back, keeping his casted arm out of the water while the other was wrapped around you.

“That’s an option, but m’kinda freaked out by the idea of somethin’ goin’ wrong on the only eye I got left.” He tries laughing it off, but his voice cracks at the end of his sentence. “Doc gave me a list of referrals when I told him I was movin’ out here, so I gotta go through those to keep up with some kinda treatment.”

“I can help, or if you want, I can ask Ivy, she might know some of the doctors. She told me to tell ya’ if you need any injuries looked at, she’s got ya’.” As you relay the message, you turn around to get a better look at the bandage over his eye socket, holding his face gently as you sit in his lap.

“What’s it look like?” Your question would be forward with anyone else, but Gator knows you’re just curious because you care. 

“Looks like nothin’ you’d wanna see.” He rests his head back against the tub with a sigh, eye fluttering shut. “It’s gross. M’not sure what I’m gonna do when this needs to come off.”

“Like, what, use an eye patch?”

He nods, hand reaching around your hip while his large hand rests on the small of your back, gently pushing you closer. “Or a prosthetic eye, but those fuckers are expensive.” You’re listening intently, but you feel him, half hard underneath you. 

“If this eye starts goin’ they told me I can look into those white canes, or uh, a service dog, but they’re really fuckin’ expensive.” He mutters, gazing back at you. “Darlin’, the way you’re sittin’ ain’t makin’ any of this easier to talk about.”

“Sorry,” You murmur, about to push back, but Gator’s grip keeps you in place.

“Didn’t say it had t’stop.” 

“Maybe you’re the one making it hard for me to be a good partner who listens.”

“You? Listenin’? Yeah, to everythin’ except when you decide to brat out.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.” 

Gator holds your face with the hand in the cast, grateful he can still move his fingers, for little things, like holding your chin to keep you from looking away. 

“Will this scare you away when it’s all healed?” He’s still talking about the space where his eye used to be.

Your brows scrunch together, confused and hurt for him that this is how he sees himself now. “What? Gator, y’gotta stop acting like this makes you some kinda’ monster.”

“I brought it on myself, I think I got every right to feel like a fuckin’ monster from the inside out.” He can’t look at you, pushing his head back as he stares up at the ceiling. You don’t miss the silent tear that slides down the side of his face. “I know if anyone else was in my shoes, I wouldn’t ever think of ‘em like this. But with myself, it- it’s on my mind, constantly. I’ve always felt like a failure, and now it feels like y’can see it, too.”

“This isn’t your fault, and I hope you can understand someday that you never deserved this.” You wish there was a way to show him, to make him believe this isn’t a fate anyone deserves. “I- I can only imagine how fuckin’ hard it is to get up every day and realize this is how things are, and will be, forever. I can only imagine how fuckin’ terrifying it was when it happened. None of this is easy, but you’re not facing this alone.”

Gator, sighing, isn’t satisfied with your response. You mean well. You genuinely care. But he can’t help feeling like a burden. He’s certain he’s a burden. Maybe he should’ve stayed home. You’ve been living the life you wanted, that you deserved, and he doesn’t want to hold you back from anything.

“It is my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“Why are you so set on tryin’ to see the good in me, anyway?” He sounds stuck somewhere between anger and grief, sitting up again. The warm water sloshes around the two of you, like waves building before a storm. “There’s nothin’ worth lookin’ for.”

You’re left stunned by his words. You reach for his face, holding him softly, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. “Gator, don’t say that. You hear me? Don’t you ever— ”

“I was already useless before this, now I- I feel like a waste of space—“

“Gator, enough.”

“No, y’know it’s the truth, y’know—“ 

“Enough! Useless? What, Roy said that, right? As if anything that piece of shit has ever said was worth its weight.” You’re all over the place with your feelings; angry, sad, filled with justified rage towards anyone who ever hurt Gator, flooded with grief for him, for what he endured and what he’ll live with forever.

“I want to help, not because I think you’re useless. I don’t see you as a waste of space. I’ll remind you every day that you’re so much more than the lies he told you. Every day until you begin to believe you’re worthy of a second chance.”

He doesn’t stop you, but that doesn’t stop him from tensing up underneath you as he holds his emotions back.

“And I ain’t the only one who believes in you. Everyone in this house already loves you, wants the best for you, even if y’all haven’t met yet. I know damn well Dot wouldn’t let ya’ talk like this either. You’ve got so many people in your corner who care about you, who want you to have the second chance you deserve.”

Gator won’t look at you still, jaw set while a few more stray tears fall.

“You’re allowed to grieve, get angry, anything this entire nightmare makes you feel— feel it, it’s valid.” You take a deep breath, “But you have to break out of the mindset your dad shoved you in. I know you, Gator. I have seen the best of you already. You’re protective, you’re smart—”

Gator scoffs a sharp, cold laugh. “Yeah? So smart I held onto a grudge until it ruined my life? Jesus, darlin’, you gotta accept the facts. I lost a part of me, literally, permanently and it’s all on me.”

You just finished saying he’s allowed to feel how he feels, but for some reason, that comment twists a rusty knife that’s still left in your heart all this time later. One you must’ve missed when you moved and began healing again.

This isn’t about you, this isn’t your grief to take and twist into your own, but the words shoot out before you can stop them. “You’re not the only person who lost an important part of themselves.”

“Don’t.” He snaps, finally glaring at you. “Me losing half of my sight ain’t the same as your loss.”

“Never said it was, but you can still live without that part of you. If I can do it I know you can.”

Gator lashes out, hands gripping the sides of the tub as you slide off of him, “You can have a baby again, you can try again, you have chances to try again, but I’ll never, ever get my vision back fully. Don’t fuckin’ compare the two.”

“Oh, for fucks’ sake— Gator, I’m not comparing them!” You’re angry; it’s just the two of you bouncing rage off of one another, misdirecting it completely. “I can’t try again, and you’d know if you’d just let me explain that when I was ready to.”

This isn’t your trauma to heal from, but yours isn’t his to heal from, either. You didn’t word this, any of this, the way you wanted. You just hoped to somehow, maybe, show him he wasn’t alone in feeling like a failure for things out of one’s control.

“No, it’s not the same as losing your eyesight, but I get losing something important, something that’s literally a part of your entire being. I don’t get another chance. I don’t get a re-do.”

His face falls as the anger drains from his features. “You… you don’t?”

“No, not without— look, I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t shove myself into your trauma to try fixing it… I wanted to remind you that you’re not alone in feeling like a failure for something out of their control. You still find ways to keep living and moving forward. Just like I’ve done, like I am still doing… Sometimes it just helps to have that safe space to grieve. You have that here, with me, with anyone in this house.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Gator opens his arms, and immediately you return to his embrace. He leans into your shoulder, shuddering a sob while his arms close in around you, holding you close. “Fuckin’ hell… m’sorry—“

“You didn’t know. And you have every right to be upset, and upset with me, but don’t— please don’t ever believe for a second anything your father’s called you.” Your fingers soothingly scratch over his scalp while they run through his hair. In a moment of pettiness, you mutter, “If anything, he’s useless, rotting away in prison while you’re starting over to live a better life.”

He laughs through his tears into your neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Gator.”

An echoing, baby-like meow startles you both; you peek over the edge of the tub to find Lovebug looking up at the both of you with his wide eyes, purring loudly.

“We love you too, Lovebug, don’t worry,” Gator chuckles while putting his hand out for the cat to rub against. He rubs the tears out of his eye with the other hand.

“I can’t believe you’re not even here 24 hours and you stole my cat.” You narrow your eyes at Gator, smirking. “Can’t have shit in New York.”

“Aw, c’mon, we can have shared custody,” He jokes, now giving Lovebug chin scratches. The cat juts his chin out happily. “Lovebug, you’re cute and all, but I gotta give your mama some love, too.”

As if he understood what Gator was saying, Lovebug makes a beeline out the door. You watch in disbelief with your jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you? The cat whisperer?”

“Maybe,” Gator grins, stifling a laugh, “Ya’ think it works on this p— ”

“Gator, god help you if you’re about to make the joke I think you’re goin’ to make.” 

“Yeah, we need bagels. You’re hangry,” Gator teases, pulling you back into his lap as you scoff at him. “Can I do somethin’ quick before we get out? It’s really important.”

Your brows knit together while your laugh dies down, slightly concerned, but amused, too. “What’s important?”

Gator adjusts himself underneath you, slowly pushing into your entrance, watching as your smile fades into an open mouthed, silent moan while your head falls back. He holds you upright, hands gliding up your spine; one stays on your back, the other at the back of your neck as you grind down onto him. 

With his lips on your neck as you take over, rocking your hips into his, he groans, “Gotta make my girl feel good first.” 

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman smut #tramps like us #part time soulmate full time problem #my fics

[soggyriceee]

omgomg this is my first time requesting smth lmao i hope it isn’t too obvious but i was wondering if we could have the safeword fic you did for konig and price, for ghost too? btw ur work is amazing💗💗

strawberry | Simon Riley

summary: what le request says

warning: slight ass play, spanking, orgasm denial then overstimulation, degrading, slight praise, forced breeding, angry sex, rough to gentle Simon

thank you anon for your request and for enjoying my work! I had a lot of fun writing this for you so I hope you enjoy~

~~

“ can you just stop and fucking listen?!” Simon yelled, slamming the door behind you both as you entered the apartment. “ i’m listening Simon i’ve been listening.” you hiss at him, turning angrily to meet his equally angry face. it was a petty argument. and you initiated it. why? you were jealous. and angry. but also, a bit horny?

and of course you put on a tight black dress, your whole back exposed to show the top of your tramp stamp. your shoes were no better, black sting heels. and Simon was everything but happy about that of course. so he did one better. “ why is your shirt basically not buttoned?” you snapped at him, watching as he tied his black leather boots. his shirt was a silk black one, maybe two or three buttons up, exposing the top half of his abs. his pants were a nice pair of plain black dress pants, nothing special.“ problem love?” he asked gently, tilting his head up to look at you. you watched as he blindly tied his shoes, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

and the club was no better. immediately girls crowded him at the bar as he got you both refills. and even though he’d push them off, you still decided to get some sort of payback. from a one sided competition.

you made your way to the dance floor, hot pink LED lights and smoke covering the floor. other than that it was dark, occasional flashing white lights illuminating the room. the smell of alcohol filled your nose as your slid past people, humming to the song. you made sure not to move too far from your table, making sure to remain in sight of Simon. and he didn’t take long to find you, his jaw clenching as you looked him in his eyes, a smirk on your lips.

it also didn’t take long for a man to come behind you, slipping his hand around your waist. at first you jumped, the feeling of an unfamiliar and honestly skimpy arm compared to Simons throwing you off guard. but seeing how his face twisted into anger almost immediately motivated you to dance on this guy, get a reaction out of Simon. it was only fair , look how many girls he had crawling on him?

this did not end well for either one of you honestly. Simon did one better by inviting a girl to sit at the table. in YOUR seat. and so you decided to crank it up and dance your way over to a table close to Simon, happily sitting on a man’s lap at the table to chose. he was handsome, tall. black wolf cut hair with a nice tames bearer, brown eyes and plump lips. you were shocked there wasn’t a girl coming full speed at you.

this took Simon to his breaking point, slamming the cup onto the table and walking over. you couldn’t even properly flirt with the man before you were yanked off him, dragged behind Simon with his hand gripping your wrist tightly.

he shoved you in the car quickly, your head hitting against the seat. but he didn’t even care. the second he got in the car, the arguing started. ruthless words coming from both sides, your finger jamming into his arm, his hand slapping it away. you both never really argued like this before, and you had a feeling it was because you were both so fucking horny for each other. he had been gone on a mission, just returned two days ago. but neither of you have had the time to properly have sex. only quickies in the morning since you had work. and you were beyond drained by the time you got home, leaving Simon to fuck up into his hand as you laid on his chest.

and so, this arguing led to a final breaking point. a breaking point that happened to come quicker than expected. “ you aren’t listening. your going on your own fucking narrative like always! you saw me push those girls away.” he yelled, slamming the keys on the dining table, watching as you made your way to your shared room. “ stop fucking walking away from me!” he yelled, walking over to you.

just as you made it in the room, you began to close the door. but he was ten toes behind you, his hand already pressed flat against the door. “ i have no intention in-“ he pushed you further inside, slamming the door closed. “ i don’t care what the fuck you want.” he said, locking the door behind him. you swallowed, watching as he made his way over to you. “ can you back up” you said, holding your hand out onto his chest. but he kept moving, flicking your hand away like it was a moth.

your knees his the bed frame and you fell backwards, a gasp coming from you. Simon stood tall above you, looking down at your now quiet figure. he kicked your legs apart, shifting his body to fit between them. “ see where talking too much gets you love?” he said softly, his hand finding your thigh. you looked down, looking at how his veiny hand gripped your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on the inner part. you looked back up to meet his eyes, a smirk spread on his lips.

“ j-just stop being fucking annoying.” yoh muttered, scooting back. but his grip was strong on your thigh. he pulled you back to place, your dress shifting up your body as he did. your white thong peaked out, a chuckle coming from him. “what a slut.” he mumbled. and as much as you wanted to talk back, you didn’t. in fact, you clenched when he called you that derogatory name.

he hummed softly, his hand sliding up your inner thigh. his fingers grazed over your clothed cunt, a smile spreading onto his lips when he felt the wet spot. “you weren’t really angry were you lovie?” he whispered, his index finger pressing gently on your clit. you whimpered at the pressure, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. “answer me, i asked a question.” he said, removing his finger. “n-no.” you quickly said, maybe a bit too quick. he chuckled, shaking his head. “ so desperate.”

his finger rubbed small circles onto your clit, watching your hips buck into the air. " just needed to be fucked huh?" he whispered, licking his lips. you nodded your head, an embarrassed red blush coming onto your cheeks. he chuckled, shaking his head slowly. his fingers picked up in speed, a whimper leaving your lips. your eyes closed, head pressing onto the mattress. but that pleasure was taken away in a matter of seconds.

your head lifted, looking up to him with pleading eyes. "think you deserve to cum? silly girl" he sighed, giving you a small pout. he hooked his finger into your underwear, pulling them down. he moaned quietly as he watched your slick cover your pussy lips, his tongue wetting his lips again. "thats what I like to see" he whispered, tracing his fingers down your cunt to your hole, collecting the slick.

you gasped softly, watching him from below. one of his rough fingers slid in slowly, sliding out just as slow. your pussy squelched around him, a small whimper escaping your lips. he was quick to add a second finger, his fingers picking up in pace. " look at this pussy.. so fucking tight and wet for me huh?" he cooed, tilting his head slightly. his other hand moved up and under your dress, moving up to your breast. your dress was completely up your body at this point, your body on full display for him.

" look at you, so pathetic and helpless under me huh." he whispered, rolling your nipple through his fingers. you whimpered, your legs bending to lift your hips up. he bent down, pressing a kiss onto your neck, his fingers hitting deeper into you. " w-wanna cum.. please" you whined, gripping onto his shirt. he let out a breathy chuckle, his fingers slowing down as he felt your cunt pulse around his fingers. " stop being a whiney bitch" he growled, sliding his fingers out.

you whimpered at his loss of touch, gripping onto his shirt harder to try and get him to stay. but he flicked your hand away, standing straight. " turn around, ass up." he said, pulling his belt off his body. and you did just that.

your quickly turned around, almost embarrassing how fast you moved. but you couldn't wait, you needed him inside you. you needed him pounding into your cunt, making you cum over his dick. you wanted him to be rough with you. no. you needed him to be rough with you.

his hands suddenly gripped your hips, his fingers stabbing into your side. one hand pressed on the lower of your back, pushing you further onto the bed. it hurt slightly, but you were too blinded by the soon coming pleasure you didn't care. " think you deserve to get fucked? dancing on other men, sitting on their laps. think a whore like you deserves my dick?" he growled, slapping his dick onto your pussy. you moved your ass back, trying to feel him length slide between your folds. " please I'm sorry sir, please I need it" you whined, turning your head to look back at him.

he grunted, his hand that was once on your back sliding back to your waist, his other hand remaining at the case of his dick. " show me. show me how sorry you are." he said, sliding his tip alone into your cunt. you both sighed softly, his jaw clenching. you slid back onto his dick, your mouth falling open as his length stretched you out. "fuck" he groaned, his eyes fluttering close.

you took a moment to collect yourself, feeling him pulse inside you. " come on then, fucking bounce that ass against me" he growled, his hand slapping down onto your ass. your gasped, your bottom lip tugging between your teeth. slowly, you moved off his dick, slamming back against his hips. his hand again slapped against your ass, a painfully good sting. " just like that baby, come on. fuck yourself on me." he groaned, watching your figure move back and forth on him.

your head fell back, trying to get him to pull at your hair. when he noticed your pathetic attempt to get what you wanted, he laughed down at you. " want me to pull your hair?" he asked, his hand gripping the flesh of you ass. you nodded, swallowing your whimpers. " well use your fucking words." he growled, digging his nails deeper into your skin. you cried out, your fingers wrapping around the sheets. " p-please sir pull my h..hair." you cried out, moving your hips faster.

he grinned, patting your ass gently. " good girl " he cooed before digging his fingers into your hair, pulling it back. you gasped, your back arching so far back your lips and his were close. " wasn't so hard was it?" he asked, smirking down at you.

your hips continued to move back against him until you began to lose your momentum, your movements slowing down. " getting tired already?" he asked, his free hand sliding from your ass to your hip. you whimpered, looking into his eyes with pleading ones. " n-need you to fuck me.. please" you whimpered, your hips stopping. he smiled down at you, letting your hair go to instead wrap his hand around the side of your neck.

instead of giving you a verbal response, he slid his hips out of your cunt and thrusting back in forcefully, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time. your mouth fell open, your eyes hooding. " keep your eyes on me, wanna watch your face while I fuck this pussy." he growled, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you more into him. his dick rubbed right against your gummy walls, his tip jamming against your cervix with each thrust.

" f-feels so good sir" you whined, feeling your orgasm building up again in your stomach. he grunted, moving his hips rougher, but remaining the same pace. " I bet it does, look at you. so fucking pretty taking this dick." he whispered, a moan slipping past him after. your eyes crossed as his dick hit against your g spot, your pussy pulsing around him. " c-can I cum sir.. please." you begged, looking up at him. " so fucking desperate you are. go on then, cum for me." he replied, gripping your throat tighter.

you finally let your orgasm take over you, your eyes tearing up from the release, your moth falling ajar. your body quivered in his grip, a small smile on his face. " there you go just like that baby.. coating my dick." he whispered, looking down as he slid out, watching your cum coat over his dick. a ring of white was around his base, earning a moan from him.

his hips picked up in pace again, his thrusts fast and deep now. your pussy was still getting over your orgasm, your body shaking in his grasp still. " f-fuck slow down.. please sir." you cried out, gripping not his arm that remained around your waist. but he continued his abuse on your pussy, his tip slamming against your cervix. " oh but you wanted to cum baby.. im just giving you what you begged for." he cooed, his hand on your throat now sliding up to your mouth, puling your jaw down.

drool was quickly to pool in your mouth, sliding down his fingers and hand. he groaned at that feeling, his hips moving faster. " using other men just to get my attention. just to get fucked. couldn't use your words." he growled, his other hand pushing you onto the bed. his hand that was on your mouth moved to your ass, his other hand moving to your opposite cheek. " even now, cant use your fucking words. so go ahead baby, keep not using your words. gonna use you like my personal fuck toy, and your gonna fucking let me." he growled, his knee rising to the bed, allowing him to his your insides deeper, faster.

your head pressed onto the mattress, your hands on either side of your head. your second orgasm was approaching quickly, your back aching from the position. but your discomfort became even more enhanced when you felt his thumb press against your asshole, a yelp coming from you. " s-simon I c-" "what did I say? didn't wanna use your words so stay fucking silent now." he growled, moving his hips faster.

you cried out when his thumb pressed into your ass, a new and uncomfortable feeling for you. but Simon loved it. " fuck love.. feels so good. love using your pussy like this." he moaned, his thrusts become more sloppy. he was close and you were finally going to be able to breathe. or so you thought.

his thumb remained where it was, inching more into your hole with each thrust he gave you. tears poured from your eyes, your makeup completely painting your bed sheets. but that was the least of Simons worried right now. his free hand came around the back of your head, pushing it into the mattress. " shut up, dont wanna hear any of those pathetic moans of yours." he growled, his body pressing over yours.

you cried into the mattress before finally feeling his cum shoot into you, a strained moan coming from Simon above you. " fuck yes.. fuck" he groaned, his hand gripping the back of your head as his hips gave you small quick thrusts.

and you thought he was done, but you were wrong. completely wrong. once he came over his high, he turned your head to the side, allowing you to breath. you were gasping, tears running down your face. he took his thumb out of your hole, sighing as his hands gripped the flesh of your ass once more. " think im done, don't you." he mumbled before sliding out of your cunt.

your cum and his poured out of you, dripping onto the mattress. " look at that baby.. look at the mess we made.. " he said softly, reaching over to slide a finger from your clit to your hole, collecting the wetness that your cunt gave him. your body jerked forward, a small gasp leaving your plump lips. " lets make a bigger mess. " he whispered before flipping you onto your back.

his hands were quick to grip either of your thighs, pulling them apart in butterfly position. your dress still pooled at your boobs, which he didn't mind in this case. his hands rubbed up and down your inner thighs, looking down at your drenched pussy. " so wet, just for me huh? just for my dick." he asked, moving his hips to place his semi hard dick right on top of your pussy. you were about to speak but he shook his head, saying " no words. remember?" so all you gave him was a slow nod, looking up into his eyes.

he smiled before looking back down to your sexs' moving his dick side to side against your folds. without warning, he pushed himself fully inside you, a quiet whimper leaving him. he wasted little time in sitting inside your pussy, wanting to hear your wetness squelch around him. " listen to that pussy lovie.. fuck your so wet." he growled, his hands gripping your thighs.

your head pressed back into the mattress, his thrusts gradually picking up in speed. it was hard to keep yourself from saying any words, especially when he was fucking you as well as he was. but that pleasure soon turned into pain when he raised on of your legs up, keeping the other one in that butterfly position. his tip was hitting your womb directly, emitting painful cried from you. but he loved it. "aww, is it too much for you baby?" he cooed, his hand coming down to cup your face for what you thought would be genuine care and sadness.

but he slid two fingers inside your mouth, hooking around your bottom teeth to pull your jaw down. " see if I fucking care" his thrusts grew in force as well, your moans no longer soft and quiet ones. each thrust he gave you produced a moan from you, your eyes squeezing shut as you endured the pain.

what didn't make it better, was the bulge that Simon began to notice. and when he saw it, he didn't slow down or change the force of his thrusts at all. " look at that.. can barely handle my cock can you? so fucking s-small beneath me" he moaned, watching the drool from your mouth drip down his wrist. your eyes opened, looking up into his fiery ones. you knew he wasn't stopping any time soon, and it was now your mistake of edging him to go this far with you. you began to regret it quickly.

your pussy again began to pulse around his dick, your whimpers growing in pitch. " close again huh? come on then, cum for me." he said, watching that tiny bulge pop up from your tummy. your back arched up and off the bed, your second orgasm washing over you. your legs shook in his grasp, your eyes producing more tears.

and all he did was smile down at you, watching your body tremble from his dick. he loved it, loved to be the one to give your body such a violent reaction. " thats it baby take this dick, show me how badly you wanted it." he moaned, raising his knee to rest on the bed once again.

this wasn't fun nor pleasurable anymore. your pussy was crying out for help as he rammed his dick inside of you, working towards making you finish again. his dick slid in and out with eat, your pussy and his hips making sinful noises when they connected. your cum, his cum and your own wetness covered your inner thighs and his own pelvis, adding to his own pleasure.

his head had fallen back, his moans growing in pitch and frequency. he was close again but wasn't going to allow himself to cum. " come on lovie, cum for me again. s'what you wanted right? to cum." he groaned, head falling back to look down at you. you still couldn't respond if you wanted to because of his fingers still hooked to your jar, adding to the overall uncomfortable feeling you were going through.

tears of pain began to take over the ones that were once pleasurable, your walls and cervix not able to take more of a beating. your body was tired, you were tired. but you couldn't do anything to fight back. you had tried to push him off, but that only resulted in him slapping you, gripping your face straight afterwards and telling you to "take what I give you." in most cases that would be hot, maybe even make you clench around him. but this time it emitted true fear out of you.

his fingers slipped out of your mouth to go down to your clit, causing a painful cry to leave your lips. you tried to pull your knees together, but the position made that everything but easy. " come on you can take more, it's what you wanted remember?" he cooed, watching as your cunt coated his own body. and yes you did want it at first, but not anymore.

“s-simon i cant.. i c-cant-“ his other hand gripped your cheeks, swelling your mouth shut. “i don’t care lovie. this is what you fucking get” he groaned, his eyes watching as strings of cum connected his dick back to your pussy. you were full on crying beneath him, another orgasm making it’s way through your body.

you shook beneath him, his mouth agape as he watched your pussy pulse around him, your cum seeping out. it didn’t take much for him to cum inside you again from that sight alone, his grip on your cheeks tightening. his fingers released your clit and instead made their way to your nipples.

his hips slowed down, but the force of his thrusts didn’t. your body was shutting down and you physically couldn’t take anymore. with his hand still grasping your cheeks, you began yo say “stra-“ but his hand clasped over your mouth, grunting. “ didnt i fucking say shut up.” he growled, his eyes locking onto yours. he hadn’t processed what you were trying to say, he was beyond pussy drunk at this point, he could pull himself out of you.

your body violently shook beneath him, your eyes red and stinging with tears. you both were covered in sweat, Simons hair sticking to his forehead as he pumped himself inside you. when he had relaxed from his previous orgasm, his hips picked up in pace yet again. his hand still rested onto your mouth, silencing you completely and restricting a decent air flow.

because of how sensitive you were, it took only a few thrust for your next orgasm to well up inside you. and this one you couldn’t take. with the lack of air and pure overstimulation, your clawed at his hand helplessly, trying to get him to listen to you, to see you. but by the time he had decided to let you go, your orgasm washed over you and your body shook violently beneath him.

tears of pain and genuine terror came from your eyes, clawing his hand away from your mouth. you couldn’t feel anything in your body, not even your own arms. your mouth was dry, head was light from the lack of oxygen and your cheeks were sore. “s..strawberry” you cried out trying your hardest to push him away from you.

Simon immediately stopped his hips, looking down at your disheveled body. you laid limp below him, body still shaking. a million thoughts began to run in him mind at once, but the loudest one was “what have i done”.

he slid out, a painful cry coming out of you. he didn’t know what to do, he’d never gotten you to this point before. he just watched as your body laid almost lifeless on the bed, cum seeping out of your hole. “i.. i-i’m so..” he couldn’t find the words to even begin to describe how sorry he was. he was like a deer in headlights, unable to move at all.

but he jumped into action the second he saw you begin to move. but when he tried to touch you, your shifted away from him, whimpering the second his hands touched you. he backed away, almost tripping on air.

he watched as your lifelessly crawled further onto the bed, almost like you were pure fleas no bones. the large wet spot where you once were only hurt his chest more, a sign of how far he pushed you. “my love i-“ but your back was to him now, full on sobs escaping you.

your body didn’t stop shaking, not even after you managed to pull a blanket over you. you felt exposed, used. like you were some fleshlight and nothing more. and yes, your and Simon had rough sex, but it was never to this extent. never to the extent you felt unsafe.

as you cried, Simon fought his own tears of anger and disappointment. he had one job, to make sure you felt safe and he completely failed. he didn’t know what to do in this moment, he was still standing. he watched as your body trembled underneath the blanket. he didn’t see his girlfriend anymore. he saw a scared little girl.

he turned to walk towards the bathroom, his eyes blank, face showing no emotion. he didn’t want you to see his emotions, this was about you. and making you feel better. it was about him failure in making you feel safe, he broke a promise he swore he’d never break.

he ran a bath, making sure the water was perfectly warm. he found a few candles in the cabinets from when you bought them a few weeks back, lighting them and placing them around the bathroom. he also managed to find a towel and quickly made his way into the laundry room, throwing it into the dryer so it was warm when you came out.

when he made his way back into the room, he laid his eyes on you first before finding a pair of pants to put on himself. he wanted to hide his body, scared that if you saw it, you’d go into some sort of panic. he also found a nice pair of pajamas for you, tossing them onto the bed.

and finally, he made his way over to you. your body was still shaking, just not as violently as before. your face was hidden under the blanket, soft sniffles coming from underneath. he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat before slowly and gently resting his hand on your covered body. “ my love.. please-“ but shook him off of you, scooting back. his head hung low before he tried again, this time dropping to his knees.

“i want to take care of you.. please. please let me fix this.” he said softly, making sure not to touch you. but he got no response. he rested his head on the bed, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, stopping the tears from escaping. and he stayed like this until he felt your body shift.

he looked up and was met with your eyes alone, your lower face and body still covered. he swallowed, not saying a word. and neither did you. it stayed like this until he reached over slowly for the blanket. “ can i?” he asked softly. when you gave him a small nod, he slowly pulled the blanket off.

his eyes never trailed to your boobs or pussy, his eyes stayed on you the whole time. he was determined to fix this, determined to make you feel safe around him again. “can i lift you?” he asked, standing slowly from his knees. when you gave him another small nod, he lifted you from the bed and immediately made his way over to the bathroom.

he placed you into the tub, watching how you looked around the bathroom at all the candles. “ i..i don’t even know where to begin.” he said softly, looking at you in the tub. “i should’ve listened to you. i’m sorry.” he said, taking your rag and rubbing soap onto it. you watched him silently, giving him only small nods when he asked if it was okay to touch you or move you in any way.

and it remained like this for the remainder of the night. your body was still sore and limp, your head pounding from all the crying. you just laid in bed the rest of the night, Simon staying by your side. he didn’t touch you, didn’t ask you anything. he was still in shock over what had happened. he was cursing himself in his head, angry that he put you through something like this.

his hands were in fists when you reached out slowly, cupping your comparatively small hand on his. he looked down, your eyes closed. “my love?” he asked softly. he didn’t get a verbal response, but he did get a small hum. “do you need anything? food? medicine?” he asked, already prepared to stand and get you whatever it was you needed.

but you shook your head, limply scooting closer to him. he got the idea and stopped you, moving himself closer to you instead. “ are you tired?” he asked, his hand wrapping around your shoulders. you gave him another silent nod, your head finding his chest to nuzzle into.

a soft smile came to his lips before he pulled you closer, watching you fall asleep. and even when you did, he stayed up to making sure you didn’t need anything from him. to make sure you were okay. he didn’t care about sleeping, not when he put you through that.

“i love you” he said softly, rubbing your shoulders as you slept against his chest peacefully. for the first time since this whole thing began, he felt like he was doing right in making you feel good. making you feel safe.

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost mw2

[satoruyes]

co-parent bakugou .2

katsuki bakugou x nb reader (previous part)

(cw: smut, angst, kids, arguing, verbal abuse)

when bakugou comes back from his morning walk he goes into the kitchen to see raya over the stove cooking breakfast. “hey babe, goodmorning,” she turned to face him, “i'm sorry about last night; i was just upset.”

he nods and goes to their bedroom and gets undressed. raya, not being satisfied with his reaction, pauses breakfast and follows him up. she sneaks up behind him and runs her hand down his bare back. “i said i was sorry babe, you have to forgive me.” he turns around to face her.

“you know my dad doesn't like it when we argue.” he hated that. he hated it when she used her dads position as leverage. with rayas’ dad being the mayor and all; she’d grown to be a spoiled brat. sure he had the skill to be a pro-hero but maybe not the funds. his parents weren't exactly the richest in the world. so of course his wife offered to let her dad take care of it. just like that- pro-hero dynamite had his own agency.

he swallowed hard, some spit along with his pride and sighed, “yea, ‘m sorry bout last night. i wasn't in the best head space." raya smiled, and played with the waistband of his boxers. “it's okay lovebug, now just lay back and let me take care of you.” he stood there quietly and watched her. watching as she knelt down, pulling down his boxers as she did. taking his semi-hard dick into her hands then licking the tip while working her hand up and down his full length. she kind of falters at noticing he isn't getting hard as quickly as he usually does. “did you jerk off already today or something?” he lies and shakes his head yes as she stands up. “or maybe you just can't get hard for me anymore.” she says jokingly, and katsuki forces a laugh. unsure of what was causing the problem.

__

by the time you get up it's nearly 1pm, woken up by your antsy little toddler who you let sleep in your room for night. you get up then go do your morning routine. (accompanied by your curious toddler of course) when you finish both of your morning routines you go towards the kitchen to make your cereals of choice. you go up to your room to grab your phone and see a text from bakugou. “When can i see my kid again” you sigh and reply telling him he can come over today. he likes the message and lets you know that his wife will be tagging along as well. great.

they get to your house around 3pm. you welcome them in and take them to the living area. bakugou mentions he brought something over for hana and went back to the car. leaving you and raya alone. you sit there kind of quietly while hana is wearing headphones watching her tablet. raya observes the girl, “hm.. are you even sure its his? she looks a little.. slow,” she says nonchalantly. you stare in disbelief at her, shocked she’d even say that straight to your face. “excuse me?”

“its a cute baby of course, kats’ genes really tried their best but..” she pauses “i can just imagine how pretty our baby girl is gonna be- you know with that being said, i'd really appreciate it if you kind of backed off. he needs to be an attentive father to our baby, not yours. i don't need to be worried about some desperate baby momma.’’ you scoff, you had enough of this wench disrespecting you and your child in your own home. without thinking you end up over your coffee table landing a smack across her face. she yelps in pain and hold her face like it was the most precious thing ever. “what you are not about to do is come up in my house and disrespect me and my daughter. you can get the fuck out.”

she immediately ran outside to katsuki, leaving you alone with a dumbstruck hana. you ignored the little girl's curious expression and just simply ran your hands through your hair. it wasn't too long after before you heard daunting footsteps headed your way. “what the fuck did you do? yer gonna let me bring my wife up in here just to disrespect ‘er? why the fuck of all people are you calling her a tramp ‘nd sayin she got sloppy seconds? of all people. i'm trying real hard to be in my daughter's life but yer being a real bitch about it.” without letting you say anything he drops a gift bag and leaves. leaving you once again, and leaving you speechless.

__

later that night you drop your daughter off with her grandparents and go see your old friend, eijirou kirishima. you two usually caught up at least once a month. drink a little, laugh a little, indulge a little. he's been such a great friend, so supporting and always there for you. even occasionally watching hana for you. but today you two are all alone, and both a little too drunk for either of your liking. it starts off with friendly peckish little neck kisses, short playful pecks on the lips. nothing you two haven't explored before.

but tonight something was different. you expressed to him how stressful things were today with what happened with katsukis wife. he told you he’d make you feel better and you just kind of brushed it off. but now it's hard to brush it off when he's knuckles deep inside of you, working his fingers deeper and deeper inside. you just throw your head back against his plush couch letting the pleasure take you away. “eijirou.. please,” you whine. he shoots you a toothy grin with half hooded eyes. “please what? you can use your words, i know you can.” you whine more while he works his fingers into your special spot. once you finish he pulls out grinning; leaving you blissed out with arousal apparent by his print visible.

he gets you a ride home, both too intoxicated to drive anywhere. he opens the door for you then hugs and kisses you goodnight. you get home and go to sleep.

when you wake up the next morning your head is pounding and your phone is blowing up. the most alarming test came from your mother

: “How could you be so stupid?”

: “Letting the press see you getting so personal with someone”

: “Theres photos of you and that Kirishima boy going around of you kissing”

you dont get why it was such a big deal. you didn't even care, with your parents being famous pro-heroes everything you've done since birth has been documented. it's tiring and after your daughter's birth you stopped caring. Doing whatever you wanted regardless of the paparazzi, but them following you over to kirishima's house was ridiculous. The second text you read was from bakugou;

: “Out of all of my friends you go for him?”

: “You didnt feel the need to tell me about this?”

: “Really ??? Eijirou? Has he been around Hana?”

you got kind of upset at his messages more than you did your mom. what did it matter to him, he doesnt get to control who you talked to. he’s not your boyfriend nor your dad. you leave him on read and you scroll through your twitter feed. filled with photos of you and kirishima kissing. “PRO-HERO MIYU and YUIKA SUZUKI CHILD CAUGHT MAKING OUT WITH PRO-HERO RED RIOT” you sigh and almost turn your phone off but see another set of messages from bakugou, was he jealous?

#guys i’m so tired #it’s 5am #but i wanted to get this out #part three very soon i swear #guys tysm for the feedback #all the reblogs were so sleep #gm #gn * #lulawrites #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #I HOPEMTHIS ISMGOOD #ignore typos i’m so tired #night night guys #i meant the reblogs were sweet #whoops #what if this flops

[toysrguts]

MORE jeff hc's!!!!!!

thank u for the love on the last one i love writing these sm ^___^

•can fit like 11 cigarettes in his wide ass mouth at once

•half asian (his mom is chinese)

•his hair is really thin because it never grew back properly after being burned

•hates being wrong more than anything else on the planet. sometimes he knows hes wrong but will NEVER admit it and fight to the death over it

•bpd representation 💯💯💯

•something in my brain tells me he cant die. kind of like a johnny the homicidal maniac situation. he never gets caught and he never dies (he can still get seriously injured but he will always come back when u least expect it)

•always has to be in control of the aux in every vehicle hes in and is so obnoxious when his favorite songs come on

•also yells "I SAW THIS LIVE" every time a band he saw live comes on

•barks at random unsuspecting people through the open passenger window

•always stealing shit off his victims after killing. he has a whole ring collection because of it, and of course he steals wallets for weed money

•also steals from slenderman but you didnt hear that from me

•"saying jeff is a douchebag is like saying the sky is blue." -toby

•kind of guy that takes out his bottled up emotions on everyone around him and then hates himself for it

•wears the same gross outfit all the time. just grabs one of the 3 pairs of crusty skinny jeans from off his floor and of course the musty ass dirty ass torn apart ass hoodie

•smile dog is truly his best friend. he feels like nobody understands him like smile does. he loves taking him for walks in the woods while smoking a cigarette and having deep conversations with him (not that he actually responds but jeff knows smile can understand what hes saying)

•horror movie enthusiast, from obscure fucked up ones to super cheesy ones. he has a whole shelf dedicated to his horror movie collection

•has an addictive personality, which is partially why he has a drug and alcohol abuse problem and struggles with self harm

•rarely goes out in public because hes known to have violent outbursts. he once committed mass murder at a burger king because people were looking at him weird and EJ had to drag him out of there before the cops showed up

•HATES the light he literally duct taped over his windows so the light couldn’t get in (he forgot blackout curtains exist)

•his room smells like pennies, skunk weed, and foot stank

•is actually an incredible artist but acts like hes not. literally everyone loves his work except for him

•secretly loves cartoons. he loves taking bong rips and watching scooby-doo to escape reality :)

•has never had a healthy relationship with anyone in his life, usually just sticks to hookups

•its a miracle this man is still alive considering he survives off gas station snacks and week old sodas that have been sitting on his nightstand

•speaking of he once drank an old dr pepper after he forgot he put out a cigarette in it

•got a tramp stamp when he was blackout wasted

•writes random thoughts and draws little doodles all over his bedroom walls; it kind of looks like a mental asylum in there

•also his bed is literally just a blood stained mattress on the floor with no sheet and a singular pillow and blanket

•so fucking broke he will do anything for a hundred bucks

•writes the most foul hate comments under every post he disagrees with

•he loves video games, his favorite being postal 2 (hes OBSESSED)

#creepypasta #jeff the killer #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta headcanon #jeff the killer hc #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x reader #jeffrey woods #jeffery woods #jtk headcanons #creepypasta jtk #jtk x reader #jtk #jeff woods #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fanfic #slenderman #slender mansion #slenderverse #headcanons #headcanon

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: frenemies to lovers, Cloud's memory problems, reader is an assassin, smut, porn WITH plot

Final Word Count: 9k

Plot summary: A mercenary and an assassin walk into a bar. They bicker, have sex, then go home and freak out about it. The whole thing feels like it should be a joke, but it isn't— and no matter how bad it hurts, they keep coming back for more.

ao3 link

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…”

The entrance to Hell's Maw yawned lazily open, with the wooden door leaning crookedly off of its hinges. The door— made of sturdy oak— had held up well against bar fights between mercenaries, master thieves, and assassins for over a decade; it was riddled with holes from unsuccessful knifings and stray bullets, and sported faint airbrushings of blood from more successful endeavors of the same sort. Really, the agency ought to have replaced it by now as a favor to the bar for letting its employees regularly trash the place— but those stingy bastards couldn't be bothered with anything outside of making money off the hard labor of people bigger, meaner, and certainly more deadly than themselves, and so the door remained as it was.

Fondly, you patted the door as you passed it; the little creak it gave felt like a 'thank you,' and you smiled as you slipped inside the building, largely unnoticed by the Friday night crowd.  

Despite its name, Hell's Maw was a cozy, comfortable establishment. There were large, comfortable booths lining the walls, the fabric of their green seats cracked and slightly worn in the middle; a few pool tables with green felt were nestled comfortably in the middle of the room. There was always something soft and smooth playing from the jukebox in the corner, and the lighting was dim enough to feel gentle and ambient, but bright enough that a girl didn't feel the need to squint at her plate for deformed food. 

Tonight, a few familiar faces were gathered around the pool tables, holding cues that had been haphazardly duct taped back together a few times. The quiet buzz of conversation was a comforting lull, and there was a pleasant smell drifting out from the kitchen that had you sighing at the thought of a warm meal. 

Home sweet home, you thought, smiling as you took in the scene. 

"Evening, Kitty," you greeted one of the servers as she passed by. "What's the special tonight?"

Kitty was a short, pleasantly plump woman with a freckled face and flaming hair. To look at her, you'd never know that she spent her evenings catering to smugglers, tramps, thieves, and worse— but she was as strong as she was beautiful, so generally speaking, she got whatever she wanted out of Hell's Maw's regular patrons.

"Shepherd's pie," said the waitress, grinning back as she bussed a table, "but your friend over there is putting everyone off their dinner with that sour look on his face. It's a wonder anyone can keep their drinks down, what with his mean-mugging."

You followed Kitty's gaze to the bar, where a familiar shock of blond hair glowed honey-golden in the incandescent lighting. 

To your credit, you tried hard to stifle your laugh. 

Sitting on what you had come to think of as your barstool, Cloud Strife looked even more brooding and mysterious than usual. A glass of his choice poison— lemon water with a pinch of mint— was sitting untouched on the mahogany wood in front of him. As he sat there, glaring at his glass, he seemed so miserable that you couldn't even be mad at him for stealing her seat. 

Alas, despite your efforts, the sight earned a giggle.

"He looks to be in a fine temper," you noted slyly, wagging your eyes at Kitty.

Kitty huffed.

"He looks like he's swallowed a hornet's nest."

You laughed again. 

"I'd best go see what he wants, then," you said. "If it's any comfort to you, I can't imagine he'll stay very long."

"Oh, he's no trouble," said Kitty mischievously. "As for myself, don't care what face he makes when he's got a face like that."

You giggled. He really was handsome, that bastard. 

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Later, Kitty."

"Later," said Kitty with her signature wink. 

As you approached the bar, you wondered at Cloud's presence there. It was a rare day that he arrived at the bar before you, and even rarer that he should be waiting for you and not sitting in a booth with a friend— an actual friend— or chatting up some girl at the pool tables. You couldn't recall a time when he'd been this forward with his presence at your little meeting place, and you'd be lying if you said the newness of it all didn't set you on edge. 

Cloud Strife in general set you on edge. 

"Hello, first class," you greeted him, smiling.

As he turned to acknowledge you, you slid gracefully into the seat next to him, signaling to the bartender for a little something sweet and strong. 

"Cutthroat," he returned without malice. 

You turned your best pout on him. 

"Now, now, you're being uncharitable. You're in my seat, and I haven't even considered cutting your throat." You thought for a moment. "Well, until now at least " 

He raised a brow, in a moment both teasing and deadly.

"If it's any consolation, though, it's more of a scientific interest than anything," you added as an afterthought. "It's not often that I get contracts for anyone like a SOLDIER, you know."

Blue-ringed green peered at you with familiar, friendly distaste. 

"I'm not stupid enough to be one of your marks," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think with my upstairs head, which is more than I can say for the guys you get paid to kill."

It was a bit naive of him to assume such a thing. No man was above being one of your marks.

"Then praise be that the world isn't full of good, right-honorable ex-SOLDIERs like you," you shot sweetly back at him. "Poor little me would be out of a job."

Cloud let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then sobered and stared moodily into his glass of water.  He looked like a petulant child who'd been sent to his room as punishment. 

"Come on, why so sour?" you prodded, trying to keep your tone teasing. "Did you get turned down this evening before I got here? If so, I'm sure the pretty brunette in the corner would go home with you— she's been staring at you since I walked in."

He scowled.

"Why does it always have to be about sex with you?" he snapped as the bartender handed you your glass of fruity bliss. "Are the men you seduce to kill not doing it for you anymore?"

You took the insult in stride.

"Why?" you challenged, leaning forward, eyes flicking up to meet his. "Curious?"

Cloud was the first to look away.

Somehow, it was always this. He would come to you in moments of woundedness or weakness and pick a fight that he couldn’t finish. Fights about work, fights about drinks, fights about the sex that neither of you were having, and fights about fighting just for fighting's sake— too often, you found yourselves here, in this endless cycle of strange and hateful amicability. Why, you didn't know— but it wasn't like that was going to stop you from playing your little game.

"Why are you in my seat?" You began again, changing tactics. "You know that's my seat. I'm fairly certain the groove of my ass cheeks are worn into the shape of it by now."

"Wanted to be," he replied with a little shrug of powerful shoulders. "It's a nice seat. Got a problem with it?"

You hummed, sipping from your drink.

"Not at all. Just curious as to what's wrong with you today."

Cloud cut his eyes at you. 

"Who says there's something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there's something wrong with everyone here. The fact that you're picking a fight with me today is especially telling, though."

"Not picking a fight," he grumbled.

"Of course not," you replied, placating. "Now— would you like to tell me what's on your mind, or should I try and guess?"

Cloud stayed silent, but took another drink from his minty lemon water. 

Guessing it was, then. 

"Don't know which girl to pick again?" you scanned the bar. There were plenty of Cloud's type there— sweet innocents that looked like they needed protecting. "I can help like last time. Blondie by the pool table has got great tits and a sweet smile, but she'll want to do it missionary the whole time. The brunette I was talking about earlier is probably a bit kinkier, if that's what you're i—"

Cloud moved to get up, disgusted. 

Wrong guess, then. 

"I'm teasing," you told him, tugging his arm. "Sit down, drama queen."

Cloud eyed you warily, but reluctantly sat back down. 

"You know," you said gently, "this would be easier if you could just tell me what's going on."

Cloud's expression shuttered closed. It was as if a mask had dropped into place over his features, locking them into a single blank expression. 

"Nothing's going on. I told you, I'm fine."

You were beginning to feel frustrated. Hell's Maw was a haven for damaged colleagues of a hellacious profession. Most of them came for one of two reasons: to have sex, or to play house in a place where the job didn't matter. Cloud was the former, you were the latter. You fulfilled his need to banter and blow off steam, and he fulfilled your need to care and watch out for someone. It wasn't like you were friends. Currently, he wasn’t fulfilling your needs, and you weren't fulfilling his— so why were either of you even there?

"You're a shit liar, Cloud Strife," you huffed. "If all you're going to do is act like an ass, then you can get out of my seat and find someone else to abuse with your presence."

He shook his head.

"I doubt someone like you could understand."

You leaned back in your seat. An odd hurt pierced your chest. 

You knew your lives were different. You knew he disapproved of yours. That was an old fight that had already scabbed over into little more than scars on your psyche; but if he wanted to pick it until it bled once more, you would indulge him with scratches of your own.

"Someone like me," you repeated, the words bitter as lye soap in your mouth. “Tell me, Cloud— what, exactly, do you think I am?”

You stared deeply into his eyes, challenging him. As you did so, you noted the mako-greenish tinge in the center of his iris, and not for the first time, the weight of your secret pulsed within you, threatening to fizzle out from you in white-hot sparks.

“I think you’re a murderer,” he told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re a contract killer, and what’s worse, you use your body to lure men to their deaths like some kind of demented, two-bit—”

You had heard these words before. Refusing to hear them again, you drew back your hand and made to strike him; you didn’t get far, though, before Cloud’s SOLDIER reflexes proved their worth and caught your hand before the slap could land. Even through his glove, you could feel the mako beneath his skin, and you shivered.

“I told you before,” you said, speaking carefully, willing control to return to you. “Don’t call me a whore ever again. If you do, it will be the last word you say.”

Gently, you nudged the blade in your other hand against his ribs, and he flinched backwards, apparently not having seen or anticipated the movement despite the obvious distraction of the slap.

“I don’t have to say it,” he replied calmly, tightening his grip on your wrist. “You put the words in my mouth, so if the shoe fits, then fucking wear it.”

The flow of mako within him was strong, pulling at you physically like the opposite side of a magnet. A breath, then two, and it was under control— but those words cut deep. Hearing them from someone like Cloud cut even deeper. 

"You know what, I don't have to take this from you," you said, trying to take your arm back. He didn’t let you, instead holding you fast against your will. Feeling vengeful, you added, "Especially not when you're such a hypocrite."

Cloud's expression was impassive, marble-esque, but the hardening of his eyes told you that you'd hit the mark.

"Excuse me?"

You smirked. 

"What, you think I don't know what you get up to around here? How you fuck around with these girls and that pretty barmaid at Seventh Heaven? And yet you think I’m the whore? Get a grip, man." 

"What?"

There it was— hurt and indignation that mirrored your own flashed in his eyes, and you knew you had him.

"Oh, you heard me," you said, tilting your head like another girl might for a kiss. "I'd bet top dollar that your big-titty Tifa would give her right arm to play housewife for you, and you play right along with her, the poor thing. Does she know you come here every week for an easy lay?"

Cloud snarled, enraged, and roughly threw your wrist away from himself as though disgusted.  

"I've never touched Tifa!"

You grinned wryly, massaging your wrist, and said,

"And don't you know it kills her?"

It occurred to you then that you might have gone a bit too far. Cloud's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and he looked as if he might hit you. A moment of tense silence swept over the both of you, a tug of war of will-he-won't-he between you— and then as he always did when it came to matters of the heart, Cloud Strife took the easy way out. 

He turned away. 

"Coming here was a fucking mistake," he growled, fitting that giant, way-too-Freudian sword to his lean, muscled back. "I don't know why I fucking bothered— of course you wouldn’t take this conversation seriously."

"What conversation?" you shot back. "If you think shit-talking me to my face is a conversation, you've got bigger problems than leading some girl on."

He rounded on you.

"I'm not leading anyone on. I don't feel for Tifa like that and she knows it."

You arched a brow. "Oh, so you've told her?"

Cloud faltered.

"Well— no."

"Then is she just supposed to guess?"

Cloud scowled, no doubt ready to double down on his point— but you, suddenly conscious of the setting and the kind of hurt it would cause if talk like that got back to Seventh Heaven, moved closer and said seriously,

"That girl loves you. Everyone from here to topside knows except you. You break her heart, and I feel for her. Every woman has cried the tears she cries for you— most are just smart enough to cut thoughtless, careless bastards like you off."

Cloud shook his head, expression closed. 

"No way. Tifa's smarter than that."

You smiled, though it ached.

"No woman is," you told him gently. "Love is our gift, and our curse."

"You're full of shit."

Ah, that was it, then. Once he began to resort to blind insults, you knew you'd won.

"No, I'm right, and it bothers you— and you know what else I think?"

Cloud folded his arms.

"Can I pay you not to tell me?"

You ignored him. 

"I think that you think I should be as tortured and as guilty as you feel, and it bothers you even more that I'm not. I understand this world, live in it, accept it, and so you believe that I am just as bad as everyone else in this stupid bar. And that, Cloud, is why you’re here right now, so let me give you this piece of wisdom."

You caught his arm again as he tried to turn away, feeling the warmth of him beneath your hand. 

"I have no guilt, and I have no shame. It is the world who should be ashamed for having need of me. Of having need of us."

In that moment, you found yourself nose-to-nose with Cloud, sharing his breath. His eyes— his beautiful eyes— were trained on yours, calculating, analytical. His breath smelled of lemon. You wanted to taste the sourness of it from his lips, feel the burn of its acid in your split lip.

"Don't be ashamed," you murmured, forcing your eyes to return to meet his gaze. "You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed."

The place where the skin of your palm met the skin of his forearm burned with electric warmth. You found that touching this prickly, untouchable man felt like holding a live wire. From the very beginning, you had known that Cloud Strife was a powerhouse, a living weapon; somehow, though, you had neglected to realize what kind of power he had over you before this skin-to-skin contact. 

After a moment, something dawned on you, and you were horrified. Just like Tifa, just like every woman watching them and seething with jealousy, you wanted him. 

"I hate you," he said, but moved closer. "I hate how easily you justify this life."

"I accept your hate," you said, "but you can't deny what I've said is true."

"I hate that too." He moved his arm away from your hand, bringing his hand up to touch your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. He could easily kill you, even with your knife still at his ribs. You fought against the urge to close your eyes and let the sensation of it consume you. 

"I do wonder why you came here then," you mused softly, "why you're bothering with talking to me when you could take one of these little fawns home with you."

"I don't want them," he said almost distractedly, his eyes dark and intense on yours. "At best, they're a means to an end."

This was news to you. You'd watched him take them home night after night like clockwork. 

"Then what do you want?"

He never once broke his gaze with you. You never even saw him blink.

"Would that I knew."

Cloud tilted his head. You thought you had imagined it, until his nose bumped yours. 

Was this what he had come here for?

You weren't sure. Either way, he lingered back, unwilling to close the distance. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have to choose it for yourself; if you wanted him, you had to make the active, conscious choice to cut yourself on his edge, and take the pain that would come with it. 

You weighed the costs, found them worthy. You leaned forward, closing the gap, and let him kiss you.

Oh, what a kiss. 

The act itself was simple. It was only the touching of flesh, soft and surprisingly gentle. The mako-power under his skin pulsed against the places where you touched— your lips, his hand at your throat, your palm against his bicep— and a powerful twinge of want jerked the nerves between your legs, wanting, needing more. 

Distantly, it occurred to you that if any of the kisses you'd shared with your marks had been like this, you would have been the one lying dead at the end of it all. 

"Do you want to leave?" you asked once your lips had parted from his.  

"Depends on where you want to go," he said, nose still brushing yours. "I'm not interested in going back to mine."

Of course not, you thought bitterly. Tifa might see. 

Ego bruised, you decided to play the game. 

"Who said we were going to anyone's place?" You hummed, your lashes lowered. "An alleyway might work just as well for what you have in mind."

Cloud's eyes darkened further at that. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy sex in a back alley where anyone could see." He scoffed, pupils dilated. "Disgusting."

He went in for another kiss, and you stepped back. 

"Who said anything about sex, either?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. "Just 'cause your usual crowd lets you take what you want doesn't mean I will. Not everyone wants Shinra’s sloppy seconds."

Cloud frowned.

"Don't fuck with me," he said, deadly serious. "I don't take that shit well."

At that, you softened. Perhaps that had been a bit too far. There was clearly some amount of bad blood between this particular SOLDIER and Shinra, and you had poked that bruise knowingly.

"I'm sorry," you said, sincere. "It was wrong of me to tease you."

You extended your hand.

"Come on. We'll go to my place."

For a moment, you didn't think he'd take it— but eventually, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him away from Hell's Maw. 

On your way out, you passed a few booths of familiar faces that turned their heads at the sight of the two of you leaving together— but just as you were starting to wonder if you'd made the right decision, Kitty caught your eye. The waitress gave you an all-knowing smile and winked. 

It was the closest thing to a blessing that you were going to get.  

Outside of a job or a hookup, Cloud was not often outside at night under the plate. 

Now, in the awkward silence between himself and (Y/N), he had time to look and reflect. The combination of maintenance lights and the soft glow of energy throughout the plate itself was a poor imitation of a sky full of stars, but it was good enough in the absence of another alternative. It dimly lit the dusty, barren streets, casting everything in the greenish-gray of mako energy-fuelled lights; when he wasn't peering into suspicious shadows, Cloud caught glimpses of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, noting the way the unnatural light made her skin appear strange and foreign beneath it. Before now, he had not thought her skin to be so familiar that he would notice a difference. 

Tonight was a remarkably bad idea. 

"We're almost there," (Y/N) said to him, slowing her walk until she stopped to face him. She peered up at him with piercing eyes, and Cloud suddenly got the feeling that he was being tested. 

"Something bothering you?" he ventured, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for some unseen enemy. 

"You could say that."

(Y/N) did not drop her gaze; Cloud refused to give her any ground by being the first to look away for the second time in the evening. 

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her eyes throwing the light of the plate back to him in little glowing pinprick reflections. "I wasn't thinking earlier, not really— I let my baser instincts lead me this far. Before we go any further, I have to know what you're in this for."

An excellent question, that— it was one Cloud had asked himself a thousand times before he made the decision to show up at Hell's Maw.

I'm here ecause you drive me to distraction, he wanted to say. Because you're so beautiful, and so deadly, and I have wanted a taste of you since I first laid eyes on you. Because after meeting with you every week for months, moments with you feel like the only thing that's really mine in all the world. 

Instead, he did not speak, not for a long time. Patiently, she watched him, staunch in her decision to remain where she was until he gave her an answer. 

Because I want you is the answer he should have given, mostly because it was the truest one. The answer he gave was stupid and cowardly, and only true in the vaguest sense. 

"To scratch an itch," he said. When she raised a brow, he added, "A deeper one than usual."

He hoped distantly that she could understand his reticence. He could not tell her what he felt without feeling foolish; he could not even acknowledge it to himself without feeling a traitor to the feelings he was expected to bear for others. Tonight, he could have chosen from dozens of women, and at least two of them were as dear to his heart as his very own flesh— but none of them were her. (Y/N) was beauty and grace and nightshade; she was the honey in every trap, the woman he wasn't supposed to want, but wanted carnally. She had no history with him, only the present, and yet he felt that she understood him like no one else ever had. 

Don't be ashamed, she'd told him earlier, her gaze steady and strong like steel, her voice soft and gentle as silk. You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed.

Cloud had spent so much of his time ashamed of everything. Ashamed of his roots, of his failures, of all the things he remembered, of all the things he didn't— and it was as if she had felt the badness in him, sensed it without him saying, and accepted it as a part of him. In her, there was no blind hero-worship, no transference of feelings from a risky rescue. No, she was simply the other side of his coin. She knew him because she was him. 

"An itch," she repeated, and he felt as though she were flaying him open with her eyes. 

"An itch," he replied, unable to say anything else.

She took a moment, considering. She must have found something within him worthy, because she gave a nod and walked on as though the conversation had never happened. 

If someone had asked Cloud that night what her house had looked like, he could not have said. He would not have known the color if it had been neon orange with fireworks shooting out of the front of it; by the time he should have taken notice of it, he'd been thoroughly distracted with (Y/N)'s mouth on his own. 

How that happened was a mystery also. One moment, he was walking along with her, slightly behind— the next, he was grabbing her arm, overcome with the desire to see her face once more, his heart somehow damaged by her uncharacteristic silence, and then he was kissing her because he could, because she let him, and because he was swiftly becoming utterly obsessed with the taste of her. It was filthy, deviant stuff, sucking on the length of her tongue, holding her to him by the very hair of her head; eventually, he decided that he wanted her closer still and simply lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

From there, he'd been operating mostly blind. She gave him directions, intimately familiar with her route home, and guided him even to the very last detail of how high he should lift his foot to make it up the front porch steps. If either of them had not been who they were, such a thing would likely have been impossible— but with an assassin's precision and a SOLDIER's grace and ability, they'd navigated the journey just fine. 

At first, it seemed a shame and a nuisance that, even after they'd done so well getting there, (Y/N) insisted on opening the lock to her front door— but then Cloud got a magnificent view of her backside, and remembered that, as an ass man, it was practically his duty to come behind her and press himself against her with hungry neck-kisses as she fiddled with the lock. His cock, already half-hard, was infinitely pleased with the rocking motion he'd taken up, grinding against her ass; she, apparently, was also pleased as she pressed back against him, encouraging the friction with her own body as his teeth scraped over the lobe of her ear. 

“Fuck,” she swore, her hands shaking as she finally managed to slide the key home, using it to turn the lock. “That feels good.”

Never one to let a compliment lead to complacently, Cloud licked a line up her neck, tasting her sweat and the bitter tang of her perfume; his tongue found the lobe of her ear once more, then delved into the cavity of it. (Y/N) shivered at the motion as the door fell away, and Cloud guided the both of them inside, kicking the door shut with a heavy boot. 

Her home was smaller than he had expected. For some reason, Cloud had imagined her to live in a palace, or something close to it— certainly, the amount of money her jobs paid could keep her more than comfortably in one, if there was one to be found below the plate— but instead of great columns and outrageous interior decorating, Cloud found soft carpet, flourishing plants, and rows of bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and photographs. All in all, (Y/N)'s place just seemed sort of… normal. 

"Bedroom's this way," she called out over her shoulder, smirking— but Cloud caught her arm, stopping her. 

The idea of knowing the way she kept her room— the intimacy and implications of that knowledge—was too much to bear. 

"Here's fine," he said, touching his nose to hers, then tilting his head. "Kiss me."

And boy, did she ever. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulled him to her; her tongue slid past his lips and he groaned into her mouth, cock jumping at her passion. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis to meet his own, grinding against her; to his surprise, he found his hands knocked away, replaced by her own on him, which began the process of unbuttoning and unzipping. Soon, his cock was free in her soft, graceful hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed of the moan he gave as she spat into her hand and stroked him. 

"I wanna suck you," she said breathlessly against his lips. "S'that okay with you?"

There was really only one answer to that. 

"Fuck yeah," he replied. 

He'd meant the words to be confident, even commanding— instead, they came out like a plea. Not that (Y/N) seemed to notice as she dropped to her knees before him, now eye-level with his gently-curving sex. No, he thought as she placed her hands on the crease of his thighs, playing teasingly in the fine dusting of hair there. She didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"You're a big boy," she said with a mischievous grin, her lips only a breath away from his cockhead. "I thought the sword might be over-compensation, but now I'm starting to rethink things a bit."

Cloud would be lying if he said that didn't stroke his ego just a little. 

"Just shut up and get on with it," he said, heat rushing to his face. "You can't talk and suck dick too."

She began slowly, so slowly Cloud thought he might die. She kissed his thighs, his belly, leaving his cock untouched; then came teasing kitten licks to his tip, teasing him, delving into his slit to lap at precome. He bucked his hips at her, impatient, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a smirk and said,

"If you don't like how I do it, do it yourself."

So saying, she grabbed a large, gloved hand and placed it on the back of her head, giving him his cue as her mouth returned to his cock. Cloud, shocked, didn't know what to do with himself for a moment— but it didn't take long for him to figure it out. He held her head— so small in comparison to his hands— and fucked her face, shoving his cock into her mouth over and over again as she tried to keep up with her hands and her tongue. She was hot and wet around him, her throat smoothly textured as he fucked deeper and deeper. It felt good to take that kind of control, he noticed, to take his pleasure from her by force. 

(Y/N) gagged a little as he thrust roughly, and he thought he might come on the spot.

Perhaps it felt a little too good. 

Rougher than he meant to be, he pulled her back by the hair at the base of her skull, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She looked up at him then, teary, breathless, and smiling, and Cloud was struck at once by how ravaged she looked. Gone was the kitten that had teased him at the bar; gone was the confidante who had confronted him about his intentions. In her place was a woman of pleasures, a woman of fleshly desires. This (Y/N), he hardly knew. 

"Open your mouth," he said, wiping saliva from the corner of her lips. She did so, sticking out her tongue— and without quite knowing why, he spat into her mouth. A thick glob of spit dropped from his mouth to hers, landing on her outstretched pink tongue; Cloud, feeling dizzy with want at the sight, leaned to seal it with a kiss. As he did so, she moaned against him, lacing her fingers in her hair, and he found himself pulled to the floor with her, his cock in her hand and her tongue in his mouth. 

Piece by piece, he undressed her. First to go was her shirt, followed by her bra; ever greedy, Cloud moved to take off his gloves so that he could feel the soft skin of her breasts in his hands, but she stopped him, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Leave them on," she told him, placing his gloved hands on her body, just over her pretty, perfect, and probably sensitive nipples. "I like the texture."

And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Cloud had ever heard. 

Next to go was her shorts. Made of tough black denim, they were hard to slide over the swell of her hips; thankfully, though, her painties came off with them in the struggle, leaving her sex bare and wet in the chilled air of her apartment. With that, she was finally, gloriously naked.

Except, of course, the gun that was strapped to her torso.

It was a mid-size blaster, whose thin holster and belt were nestled snugly against her skin. The gun and all that held it were a sexy matte black, and Cloud quirked a brow at (Y/N) in question. 

"What, don't you know I'm always packing?" she teased him, leaning backward to unbuckle the belt that held the holster to her belly. To do so, she stretched her arms behind her back, arching so her tits were in his face, and Cloud was suddenly distracted.

With SOLDIER strength, he pulled (Y/N) to him by the hips. Sneaking one hand up her back, he leaned down to kiss between her breasts, then more to the right, until his mouth enclosed her nipple. Her moan was heady; without thinking about it, he moved the hand at her back to play with the other nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, and she threw her head back, pressing into him. 

"Yes," she pleaded, her hands tight in his hair, "Fuck, that feels good."

For good measure, he licked and sucked at her skin, leaving love-bites in his wake. Even though he knew he'd not see them, there would be some pride in knowing that they were there, a pleasant, aching reminder of this moment.

Cloud could have spent forever in the pillow of her breasts— but his cock was so hard that it was getting difficult to ignore the throbbing between his legs. 

"Turn around," he said, unbuckling his shoulder guard. "I want to fuck you on your hands and knees."

It was a partial truth at best. While fucking (Y/N) from begind was a regular fantasy of his, there was an ulterior motive behind it. He wanted both of them to be naked, but he didn't want her to have to see his scars. They were many and jagged all across his body, from training, from fighting, from losing; up close, he sort of looked like a patchwork quilt. Not exactly pleasant to look at, in his opinion.

"Bossy," she fussed, but did as she was told. Soon, her knees were spread, her back arched to expose the wetness between her legs, and Cloud had never felt the need to undress so quickly before in all his life. It was fast, messy, and careless, but he was naked enough in under ten seconds to call it a win as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked her, pushing his self control to the limit. 

Irritated, she slung her head over her shoulder and said, "Cloud Strife, it you don't put your dick inside me right now I swear to—"

She didn't get to finish her threat. She was choked off the moment his cock slid home, her entire body moving with the force of it. Enveloped in warm, wet heat, Cloud pulled fully out before pressing back in again, biting back a moan as he watched himself disappear inside her folds. 

After another slow, lazy thrust, he leaned over so that his chest was touching her back and began fucking her in earnest; he never pulled out very far before he was pounding in and in and in—

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured into her ear, wrapping one arm around her to gently lock her head next to his as he fucked her. "Usually you have so much to say."

All she said in response was a single, strangled moan. 

After that, Cloud lost himself. For him, nothing existed except the act itself; the world extended only to the places their bodies touched, slick and sweaty and obscene. His lips and tongue were busy, kissing and sucking at her neck and licking the salt from her flesh. It took a while for him to realize that the low, growling sound he was hearing came from deep within his own chest, and even then he couldn't manage to muster any shame. 

"M'close," he murmured in her ear, tasting the shell of it once more. 

"Inside," was all she said, and that in itself was enough to send Cloud hurling over the edge. 

He fucked her through his orgasm, only pulling away once he could bear the sensitivity no longer. Still half-mad with wanting, he moved (Y/N) bodily, intending to finish what he'd started with his mouth and fingers— but when he did, he found her shaking, with tears welling in her eyes. 

Horrified, Cloud drew away. He hadn't realized he'd been so rough. He hadn't realized that she'd been reacting this way. He hadn't—

"Hey, don't get squeamish now," (Y/N) told him with a weak little smile that made him feel sick. "Calm down, drama queen— I just have a m-mako sensitivity."

"Mako sensitivity?" he parroted, his own voice sounding strangled even to himself. 

She nodded and sat up, though it seemed an effort.

"You— You're a walking b-ball of mako energy," she explained. "With you inside me, and with— well, with—" 

She faltered, but Cloud nodded. He could imagine perfectly well what she meant. 

"You should have told me," he accused her, suddenly angry and very, very hurt. "I wouldn't have— you shouldn't have—"

All he could think of was mako poisoning, somehow his, somehow another's, how sick he'd been, how very close to death he'd come. He'd put her at risk of such a thing. He was a freak, and worse, a fool, for ever thinking he could have—

With slow, pained movements, she placed a hand on his arm. 

"It's not like that," she said. "I— I didn't know. I could feel it, but I didn't think—"

She pitched forward suddenly, and Cloud moved to catch her.

"Easy," he told her, and she looked up at him with a small, weak smile. 

"Gimme a second," she said as he steadied her. "I'll be right as rain after this."

She withdrew her hand and held it out for him to inspect. Sparks crackled between her fingers, and Cloud flinched backwards, instinctively defensive.

"You're not holding materia," he realized, dumbfounded. "What the hell is this?"

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging as though she'd just shown him a neat party trick and not a literal physical impossibility. "I've always been able to feel mako, and when I get overexposed, this happens."

"That's— that's impossible," he said, because it was. 

(Y/N) merely shrugged looking at him with soft eyes. 

"I didn't think it would happen with you. It's just sort of my secret. I get close to mako, get a little sick, and then I have to expel it like this or else it just doesn't get any better. It's… a gift and a curse."

Cloud just stared at her, amazed. 

"With your permission, though," she continued, mischief glinting in her eyes, "I'd like to try something. Y'know, since we have this issue and all anyway."

Without really thinking, Cloud nodded, and then her hands were on him. The hair on his neck and arms raised as she dragged the pads of her fingers from the base of his neck to the end of his torso, the sensation of her touch unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air tasted metallic, like ozone; when she stuck her fingers in his mouth, it was like licking a battery. Already, his cock was jumping, excited by her touch, and then she was kissing him, threading her electric hands through his hair. Overcome, Cloud wrapped his arms around her, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and so, so good. 

"Touch me more," she told him, electricity popping in the spaces between her fingers. As he did, the popping increased, and he could feel the discharge of her power in the increasingly coppery taste of the air. Each breath was like a mouthful of blood; Cloud was willing to drown in it if it meant her hands would never leave his body.

"Lemme eat you out," he said, kissing the curve of her breast. "I owe you an orgasm."

She pulled back and raised a brow.

"After you made a mess down there?" 

"S'the best part," he grumbled, a bit wounded— but before he could complain too much, he found himself pulled forward as (Y/N) leaned back. She hit the floor with a gentle thud, and Cloud seized the opportunity for what it was.

With careful and precise tongue, he tasted her. First, he lapped at her clit, relishing in the sounds she made, then made it a point to gather the semen that had mixed with her wetness, slurping obscenely as he cleaned her folds. Above him, (Y/N) groaned.

"Why is that so hot?" he heard her gasp as she leaned onto her elbows to watch him. "It should not be that— oh, fuck."

Cloud smirked against her sex and licked a long stripe upwards. With his mouth on her clit, he took a freshly un-gloved hand and began to finger her, curling the digits to reach the place that would make her arch her back and cry—

"Fuck!"

Hearing her swear had never been so erotic before now— but Cloud would be damned if that wasn't a sound he'd love to hear on loop forever. 

Before long, she was close. He could feel it in the quivering of her thighs, the pulsing of her sex. He kept a steady rhythm, and then she was at her climax, falling hard with the rush of sensation and friendly, feel-good chemicals that left her limp and boneless beneath him. 

Perfect for him to continue fucking, now that his cock was hard and leaking again.

"Round two?" he asked, scarcely daring to hope she'd be ready— but then she sat up with a smile and said,

"Hell yeah."

And so it was, over and over, until they were both spent, and Cloud passed the fuck out on her living room floor, satisfied. 

When you woke, it was to an empty floor and no note. You were alone in the place where you'd had the most fantastic fuck of your life. 

Some part of you had known it would be this way. You had only known him for a handful of months, but in that time, you'd learned that Cloud was an avoidant man by nature— and you were doubtless not the first of his hookups to end this way. Still, the idea that he could just leave after such intimacy was… distressing, for some reason. 

Surprisingly, though, that feeling was easy to shake off once you left the dubious comfort of your floor and started planning your work for the week. Blond assholes who happen to give fantastic head amount to very little to a woman on a mission; you thought of him often, but the thoughts were small and benign, always curious and never of hurt or longing, as you had thought they might be. What had happened had simply happened, no more. 

Then Mako Reactor 5 fell to terrorist attacks, and the week went to shit so fast that you got whiplash. 

Before the reactor fell, you had considered not going to the bar that weekend. You didn't need an end-of-the week drink that badly; Cloud could take the hint and take a week off from the bar the next week and you'd never have to see each other again. After the reactor and your subsequent compromised mission, though? The devil himself could be in attendance that day and you'd sit in his lap and sell your soul for a drink. 

So, on Friday, you headed to Hell's Maw as usual. There was a possibility, you knew, of some awkwardness if Cloud was there, but frankly, it wouldn't be the first time you'd avoided an ill-advised hookup in a bar before— surely you could survive this as well. It would just be some weird eye contact and then a little ignoring, and everything would be as good as new.

What you weren't expecting was for Cloud to be perched on your fucking seat again, early and apparently waiting for you. 

"Oh boy," you said to no one in particular— and, as if SOLDIER had given him superior hearing as well as inhuman strength and durability, the bastard immediately looked over his shoulder and met your eyes over the Friday night crowd. On the other side of him, you noticed at least five empty glasses and a half-drunk sixth. They weren't water glasses, either. No, they were short, fat whiskey glasses, and, leaning halfway off of his stool, Cloud looked properly sloshed. 

Really, there was only one respectable thing to do in a situation like this. 

You turned on your heel and left, walking as fast as you could in the opposite direction. 

Would that you could have been faster. You had barely gotten two sidewalk cracks away from the bar when a large, warm hand curled around your arm, stopping you. 

"Cloud, get off me," you huffed, pulling your arm against his unbreakable grip. 

"No," he said simply, and bodily turned you to face him. When he did, he used a bit too much of his strength, and you ended up nose-to-nose, sharing breath.

"If this is about the other night—"

Cloud didn't let you finish. He surged forward, sealing those words with a drunken, sloppy kiss that was somehow still as electric as your first. One of his gloved hands rested at the base of your skull, cradling your head, and the other wandered to your hip, pulling you close enough to feel the growing tent in his pants. 

Heaven help you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him. 

"M'sorry," he said against your lips, pulling away only far enough to speak. "Didn't really mean to do that."

Then what did you mean? you wondered, but before you could ask, Cloud peeled himself away from you until the only thing connecting you was his hand resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The new distance, though slight, was jarring. 

"M'sorry," he repeated. "I— we made a mistake."

Oh boy. 

"Spare me the dramatics," you said, tired already. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Cloud. I wasn't expecting anything from you other than what I got."

"S'not that." Cloud averted his eyes, shameful, swaying. "I, uh. Shouldn't have put you in that position."

What, does he think I have carpet burn? You wondered, but then Cloud was looking at you with such raw vulnerability that you couldn't even crack a joke at his expense. 

"I don't regret what we did last week," you told him gently. "I'm sorry if you do, but if this is out of some kind of misplaced honor—"

"I'm involved in things," he told you in a tight voice that felt as if he'd said them before. "Dangerous things."

If there was any relevance of that claim to their current situation, you certainly couldn't find it. 

"You're a dangerous man," you shrugged. "It's one of your better qualities. I'm a dangerous woman myself, so I think that tracks, don't you?"

Cloud shook his head.

“It’s—” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

If you had learned anything about Cloud, it was that ‘complicated’ was generally code for ‘Shinra’. From there, it didn’t take much to imagine exactly what he meant.

“The reactor,” you hazarded, heart filling with dread. “That was the job Tifa lined up for you. Holy shit, your girlfriend is a fucking eco-terrorist, what the hell—”

“— she is not my girlfriend—”

“Look, pal, that’s definitely not the part of that sentence we need to be focusing on right now.”

You reached out a hand, meaning to reach out and draw Cloud closer. Instead, as you moved forward, you were met with cold steel raised against your neck. Cloud’s eyes were wild with distress and distrust, but the set of his mouth was frozen with coldness that meant he would do what he felt necessary if you pushed him.

“Hey,” you said to him softly. “I’m not your enemy here.”

Slowly, you lifted her hands in surrender. Still uneasy, Cloud lowered his sword. As soon as it was clear of you, you stepped forward into his space, close enough that he could not bring the length of the sword between you. Cloud shifted, trying to move back to where he could use his sword if he needed to, but you stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“Come home with me,” you said, brushing your thumb over the flesh of his arm. “You’re too drunk to be swinging that thing around, and if you want to talk, it’s best we do that in private. Okay?”

“M’not drunk,” he complained, but the look behind he gave you behind lowered lashes said he didn’t mind going home with you anyway. With swaying movement, he hefted the sword onto his back; once it was secure, he gestured for you to lead the way.

The trip to yours was short and uneventful. Once the door to your home was shut safely behind you, Cloud grabbed you once more, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. His touch was warm and so, so tempting— but you gently pried yourself away. He was a wreck, and you weren't about to take advantage of that even if it was what you both wanted. 

"Sit on the couch with me," you requested, grabbing his hand. "Let's talk."

As always, Cloud was resistant to the whole talking thing. Instead of poking and prodding, though, you took a different approach this time; you allowed the silence to creep and crawl between the two of you, swishing its tail like some irritated feline, letting it fester until Cloud was ready to bat it away and say what he had come to say. In the meantime, your hands stayed busy, touching, feeling, grounding the man before you. He relaxed into you, muscles loosening; he leaned until his head rested comfortably on your chest. The steady hum of mako buzzed in your head, lulling you almost to sleep— but then, just when you weren't expecting it, Cloud began to speak. 

"I made an oath to someone, a long time ago. "

You pulled away enough to see his face, your mouth agape.

"You're married?"

"What? No!" Cloud made a face of horror and distress. "I— There's a lot of things I don't remember, okay?"

Your brows knit. 

"So… you could be married."

"Oh, leave off of that, will you? I'm not married! I'd remember that if I was."

There was a note of hesitation in his voice that you didn't like. 

"So, this oath," you said, touching the skin of his cheek. "What was it for?"

Cloud shrugged. 

"I only have the vaguest notion. I don't remember the words. It's like— it's like the only way to keep it is to continue fighting, to be in this constant state of war— and yet, that feels wrong, too. It consumes me." He looked down at his hands. "It's like that oath is binding me to something bigger than myself… and as a result, I've gotten mixed up with some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Like?"

Cloud looked at you then, his eyes as heavy as they were beautiful. 

"Like saving the world."

You did your damnedest not to laugh. It was a near thing, but you succeeded— if only by inches. 

"So, let me get this straight… you're now an eco-terrorist because in a time you don't remember, you've taken an oath to save the planet?"

Cloud's jaw locked. 

"It's bigger than that. Much bigger than that. Shinra is corrupt, they kill innocent people— and Shinra's not the only thing." He looked away. "I can't talk about it. It's dangerous. You could get hurt, and the more you know makes you a bigger target."

There it was again, that concern. It had been a long time since someone cared if you were hurt. You tried not to let it take away your objectivity. 

"I assume Tifa knows?"

So maybe your objectivity was a little screwy. Sue about it. 

Cloud grimaced.

"I don't like that any more than you do, but she chose this path a long time ago."

"And Aerith?"

Cloud shook his head.

"She's… insistent."

"So what am I, chopped liver?"

Cloud shook his head.

"This isn't your fight. You aren't involved like they are."

"And I don't have to be for you to tell me—"

"For fuck's sake, just let me keep you safe!" At close range, with his body pressed against yours, you could feel the vibration of his shouting as though it were your own. "Tifa and Aerith, they belong to this world, to this fight— but you belong to me!"

"I don't belong to anyone, hotshot—"

"Exactly!"

You blinked.

"I— I'm not sure I'm following."

A heavy, gloved hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into it, relishing in its warmth. 

"Your soul is your own," Cloud said quietly. "You are the master, the possessor of your own self. You won't die for some cause, won't sacrifice yourself for the greater good. You'll survive. It's all you know how to do."

He tested his forehead against yours.

"I need that. I need you at Hell's Maw every Friday night, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink. I need you to talk to me like I'm nothing special, to show me your kindness and your sharpness."

He paused. You waited, teetering on the edge of anticipation, unable to know or even to guess what he would say next.

"And now— now that we've gone this far…" His hand drifted from your cheek to your neck, resting just above the curve of your breast. "I'm afraid of needing that too. I don't want you pulled into my world, and I don't want to need you so badly that—"

I don't want to need you so badly that I'm trapped. 

You understood. It was possible that you understood better than anyone else ever could have. 

"I get it." 

He pulled away, but you didn't allow it. You caught him by the arm, bade him stay with gentle insistence. He allowed it, and you pulled him back to rest beside you, nose-to-nose. 

"I know you, Cloud Strife," you said, summoning the words that had lodged themselves in your chest for so long. "You're like a wild animal. I cannot seek to own you… but if you come and eat from my hand, let me dress your wounds, and rest your head on my lap in times of trouble, I will count myself lucky to have someone so dear to me."

Hot pinpricks burned your eyes. How long have you waited to say something so true, so real? Why did it feel like a confession? 

Cloud didn't seem to notice your distress— or, perhaps it was because he noticed your distress that he leaned forward, slowly, gently, and kissed you chastely on the mouth. You could taste the liquor on his lips; hungering for more, you deepened it, but Cloud kept a steady rhythm, holding you tenderly. 

"Thank you," he said, pulling away. 

"For what?" you laughed. 

"For being here, for taking care of me. For not letting me wander home by myself, drunk and stupid."

"Of course." A smile stretched your face. "Any time."

The two of you stayed there for a long time, sharing breath, exchanging tender touches. Tomorrow, things might change— another reactor might blow, the plate might drop, or Cloud might use up the last of his nine lives— but tonight, nothing existed outside of your too-small couch. Tonight, he was yours, and that was all that mattered. 

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