#and i don't have any fucking money to go somewhere else

[merrigelblogs]

.

#yammers #yeah sorry time for a tag post bc I gotta put this somewhere but. quietly #I get so few days where I don't wonder what the fuck I'm even doing here #and that wondering gets ramped up by the fact that there just. isn't anywhere else for me to be #bc I'm always gonna be far away from someone now #my home country is a dangerous shithole where I'm uninsured and jobless #(where I could raise my hire-ability by.... shelling out money I don't have to move away from family and friends #to get closer to where the action is. except it Barely is bc animation is in a freefall) #in my new country I can barely communicate with anyone and my job prospects are so up in the air #that I have to waste my day doing the most demoralizing ugly work I've ever done for a job I don't want #because my visa requires that the country deem my presence PROFITABLE!!! #and I'm burned out to hell and back from running paperwork last year to move here #and it never stopped. it never ever ever stops. I am never ever EVER doing enough #practice french. more. more. MORE. learn this program. learn that program. test for this. apply to that. never hear back. get rejected. #go do paperwork again. figure out your taxes #WRONG. do it again. go get groceries. do the dishes again. put the laundry away again. #there's no space for your stuff. you barely have any stuff because you had to get rid of it all. #do something you don't want to do. again. again. smile! have fun! be charming! connect! network! stay longer! #I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear for a month or two #let me summer hibernate #it's so fucking hot here anyway I'd prefer a cave #negative /)/-)&$

[david-watts]

maybe my earlier outburst was more indicative of my mood

#I want to fucking die that's all #I'm ending my fourth year of studies. in a two-year degree. and I'm still doing first-year subjects. #and I never actually wanted to study in the first place I'm literally only doing it for the money #$366 a fortnight plus the measly five bucks they add on top as 'rental assistance' in a state I don't live in #not that I'm complaining about that mind you $5 is $5 #but I can't wait for the moment the cunts realise and bill me for ten times the amount because robodebt hasn't ended it's just #rebranded. #I nearly became the only male in my family over the last few months and honestly it's killing me that I can't be seen as that if it were so #and i know it's selfish to say it because I know people have it far far worse but #genuinely lost any chance of being myself with covid being a thing. #lost any chance at running away I know I have some sort of stockholm syndrome even though ik that was a made-up term #I should've. saved up over 2019. made money with commissions worked myself to the bone with that #since school nearly killed me anyway #what's even changed since 2018! I still spend every day on my bed and get yelled at for I have nowhere else to go #I still get shamed for not eating what my grandmother wants. she still yells at me if I don't eat her cooking. #don't really want to be in the world to be honest. #if I'd just. left at the start of 2020. not taken my flight home that day. left to go somewhere else #I've wanted to run away and leave since I was thirteen for fuck's sake #not that i knew it. but #there's a common theme in my writing and it's the moment the character has to leave home. the start of the hero's journey. #but I don't have a hero's journey I'm not a character I'm a person who can't even. I can't even function half the time #if I'd just left and if I'd just focused on actually being good at things instead of pretending to keep up appearances #I should just let myself die. wouldn't that be better for literally everyone

[andsomemaniacgotridofthewheel]

David Jenkins was not a Big Name Showrunner before OFMD. In fact, I had never heard of him before. I am not even sure what he did before OFMD, according to IMDB he wrote exactly one other show and it is one I have never even heard of before.

And he somehow got HBO to make his weird little show about gay pirates, and he got Taika Waititi to help with it, and while nobody was expecting anything of it - I mean come on guys, remember when OFMD dropped and everyone only gradually realised what it was - it became The Little Show That Could. With almost no advertising. No marketing. HBO did clearly did not expect this show to be anything, to make any real money or to go beyond one season.

But then it blew up.

Because David Jenkins was so insightful, he was so good, he brought so much fresh wind into a business where we usually can tell how the next three steps of how any show is going to go (and to be fair, a lot of us feared that Izzy's death in season 2 was coming, because all the signs fit), that we put him on a pedestal.

THE FUCKING PEDESTAL.

Yes he is brilliant. He has done stuff with OFMD that you never ever see somewhere else. He has understood that historical accuracy, as well as physics and geography, are merely backdrop for plot and characters. Completely irrelevant if you need them to be, but then suddenly important if you have a bit of story that won't work without. He understood that queer relationships deserve to be told, and when confronted with skeptic fans he learned about queerbaiting.

He took a lot of tropes and put them on their head. He structured his show like fanfic. He put thought into his stories instead of following the beaten track. He single-handedly raised the bar for every showrunner out there.

But it is still only his second show.

If he didn't shine so brightly during OFMD's first season, nobody would have expected so much of him.

And yes. He dropped the ball on Izzy.

I loved Izzy to pieces ever since season 1, I wanted to pin him to a board like a bug and study him and take him apart and put him in a blender and in situations, I loved to hate him and in season 2 I loved to love him. He is such a brilliant, complex character, so well written and so well played by Con O'Neill; the options for character analysis, relationship analysis, various interpretations of everything he has done, are simply limitless. 🤯 That is due to David Jenkins & Con O'Neill.

And David Jenkins, standing in the spotlight of all of our exaggerated expectations, decided it would have the greatest emotional impact if he killed him. He made him a symbol, for the end of The Golden Age of Piracy™, and he killed him.

He was right.

He was not original.

He fell for one of the very tropes he so successfully fought in season 1, and for the most part of season 2.

Procuring an emotional response by having a beloved character, who was just starting to embark on an exciting new journey, die tragically and emotionally, providing motivation for the remaining characters.

It was a cheap move.

It is not a Bury Your Gays. Everyone is queer on this show, you can't call something a Bury Your Gays if that would be true for every character death.

But Izzy was also old, and disabled, and he had survived a suicide attempt (that he was driven into, not chose for himself), and had just had an arc of growth and character development that could have gone on for such a long time after this. He had just learned to trust and be vulnerable and experience (gender)queer joy. God, there were so many places his character could have gone.

I loved Izzy as a character, I didn't relate much to him. But Your Mileage May Vary, and I am so, so sorry for everyone who did. You didn't deserve this.

But David Jenkins? Is still sooo much better than any generic bland showrunner that is going places in Hollywood. You want to boycott anything, boycott the big streaming services that don't have the guts to make their main characters queer, to think that "a bit of both" is inclusive or bold, and who drive out any creatives that object and try to sneak in inclusiveness. They are the enemy. They are systemic discrimination and injustice.

David Jenkins is just starting out. And he did so much better on his very first successful show than anyone who has been in the business for years. If anyone deserves a chance to prove that he can do better, it's him.

I'm sure he'll come to regret his decision. I'm sure he'll see where he went wrong, how he could have done better, and fix it in any show he might do after this. I, for one, would much rather see any show he is involved in than most of the crap that the AMPTP is putting out, now or in the future. He can only get better. And he did do a lot of things right. Never forget that. Because the majority of showrunners can't even do the minimum, and David Jenkins went above and beyond.

I think he deserves a little slack. If anyone in the streaming industry does, it's him.

It's the fucking pedestal that is the problem. It makes people who do good but are not perfect suddenly look worse than the most cowardice, opportunistic mediocre guy. But they are not and they deserve a leg up, or we are stuck with the worse option who gets support from all the wrong places. Don't fall for it.

#david jenkins #our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #ofmd izzy hands #con o'neill #nikku.txt

[inamindfarfaraway]

I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, either in direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

#paul matthews #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #tgwdlm hive #hatchetfield meta #tgwdlm meta #tgwdlm analysis #analysis

[shoverse]

what does love mean to you? — or, a record of lee minho's scattered and scrambled views on affection for oneself and others throughout the years.

🎧 lee minho, aged 7, audio transcript:

love? oh, mommy 'n daddy says that to me loads and loads! 'n mommy writes little notes and sticks them onto my lunchbox! i think i still have mine from today somewhere...here! haha, i always keep the notes mommy writes. i write some back too! err, just so she doesn't get mad if i haven't finished all the beans. well, it doesn't really work........do you know any ways?

🎧 lee minho, aged 13, audio transcript:

um, i think it means when you like someone loads, right? but you can also like them, uh, like-like and not love them...but i don't think i like-like anyone, not really. i love my mom! but it's different, like my friend changbin thinks he might like-like this other person in my class, i think his name is sehyeon? something like that. but there's this new person in my class, and maybe we could like-like each other if they don't already like-like someone else! um, not that i want to or anything. just a thought. yeah.

🎧 lee minho, aged 17, audio transcript:

it's kinda like...when your heart aches more than you'd like to admit, y'know? when you know you'd catch the stars in your bare hands and let them pierce your skin if someone you loved told you they liked how stars shine. oh, fuck, that's embarrassing, don't put that in. no, it's more like when, um, when you feel strongly about someone, and it doesn't have to be in a romantic way. i love my best friend changbin, but even if all the people in the world died and i would get infinite money and unlimited pizza i would not date him. anyway, i think i wanna. fall in love, that is.

🎧 lee minho, aged 20, audio transcript:

well, i met this girl, and i think she is love. um, but in the way that- well, i don't know how to explain it all that well. when something sits in the pit of your stomach but it's not fear and when something's caught in your throat but it's not tears. you get me? um, and i'm realising that it's fast, and i'm trying to keep up but it's just...hard sometimes to get us to work, to get her to listen to my feelings. maybe i feel too much? do you think so? yeah, love is hard work, but i'm holding out hope. what are we without hope?

🎧 lee minho, aged 21, audio transcript:

nothing. nothing at all.

🎧 lee minho, aged 22, audio transcript:

for me? love is my cats, definitely. please pretend i say something wise about eternal companions and hope and stars and puking out words like you'll run out of them if you stop. um, i'm trying to do this- self love? it's hard sometimes. that's all. but i know i have time. i know i'll have until the slow heat death of the universe to figure it out. or until one morning i wake up and i can smile at myself. yeah, life is good though. i think i'll stick to my cats for now. um, my hair was pretty this morning though, i gotta admit.

🎧 lee minho, aged 24, audio transcript:

still my cats, but i've made room for two more people. um, me, first of all. that one was hard, but time passes anyway. i'm still here, you know? and second- no, i couldn't possibly call them second. yeah it's, um, it's y/n. they weren't so hard. really, letting them in was the easiest decision of my life. um, but love is hope. not for a better relationship, but hope in a way where i hope that tomorrow will come. hope in a way that i hope the world is kind to us. anyway, love is slow. i mean, there's no rush. forever still has a long time to go. there is love everywhere, you know? i can feel it. this world is good.

🎧 lee minho, aged 25, audio transcript:

it's always this question, huh? no, i don't mind. anyway, there is so much love to give that i can't possibly tell you everything about love in a lifetime. yeah, love is still in y/n. i think it was always meant to be them, huh? can we believe that the world meant for us to be together? can we hope so? oh, of course we can. yeah, and i think everything happens for a reason. you weren't born as an accident, you know? this is your life and i'm proud that you're living it. oh, no metaphors this year. no, i realized that you can't really explain love in things. you can't really call love anything but love. tomorrow you will wake up and you will see there is so much beauty in life. yeah. see you next year.

📁 a/n; ANDDD SCENE EVERYBODY!!! THATS A WRAP!!! and yall dk how long it took me to find those goddamn aesthetic banners............GOD pinterest hates me i SWEAR. anyway if this flops i am officially Ending It All and Jumping. send tweet!

#skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #skz fanfiction #lee know scenarios #lee minho x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know x male reader #lee know x gn reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x male reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader

[venusjaynie]

not him

billy hargrove x pregnant!reader

summary: you're 8 months pregnant and billy couldnt be happier. but even though he's excited for your little ball of sunshine to finally make his appearance, he's got some concerns.

warnings: neil hargrove, mentions of past abuse, mentions of child abuse, billy has abandonment issues and nightmares, some swearing, insecurity from both reader and billy hurt/comfort, lots of fluff (of course)

A/N: i think billy would be so worried about being a dad when you have your first kid. he doesn't want to end up like neil, and he doesn't want you to have to leave like his mother did :(

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

When you first told Billy that the two of you are having a baby, he was freaked as fuck.

You were only 18 at the time, and he had just turned 19. The both of you always said you would wait until marriage to have children, and you didn't really have the money to support a kid at the time. Neither of you were prepared for the pregnancy happen, your being apartment cramped enough as it is with just the two of you, but as scared as you may have been, there was still an overwhelming amount of joy that took over you.

It took a couple of days for Billy to let the news sink in, and when he really thought about it, he was ecstatic. Now the excitement hasn't necessarily subsided for Billy, per say. It's just that, along with all that bubbling anticipation, he's doubting his skills of fatherhood, because he literally doesn't have any. Not yet anyway.

Billy doesn't plan to open up about his concerns, mainly because he's embarrassed, but also because you have more than enough on your plate being pregnant and all, and he doesn't want to burden you with some silly insecurities which he thinks will go away after a few weeks.

He's wrong.

They don't go away: if anything, they get worse. The closer you get to having your baby, the more worried he becomes. He's had to sleep on your couch, or not at all, because he's woken up in cold sweats after nightmares about Neil, or sometimes, he'll dream that he's the one mistreating his kid. Billy doesn't tell you, though. When he has these dreams, he wakes up, kisses your forehead gently, and tip-toes to the living room, where he sits on the couch and calms himself back down, before curling up on the soft seat and trying to get a couple more hours of sleep in before you wake up.

Billy thinks what he's doing is for the best, but what he doesn't realise is that every time you wake up in bed without Billy beside you, the rejections stings like a bee.

Pregnancy has had a real knock on your confidence, and you often worry Billy doesn't see you the way he used to. He had been more than supportive in every way, until the couch crashing started. You had been about 5 months pregnant, your bump very visible, and everything had been fine, until you went to bed. At around 4 in the morning, you had felt nauseous, and woke up to tell Billy you were going to the bathroom, but when you rolled over to face him, he wasn't there. Initially, you panicked, and you got up and left your bedroom to look for him, but as you got closer to the living room, however, you heard the TV quietly playing, and saw Billy fast asleep on the couch. You couldn't help the tears that sprung to your eyes at the sight of him being so content sleeping somewhere else instead of with you, but you just blamed that on your heightened hormone production and emotions. You didn't mention it to him the next day, thinking it was a one off occasion, but soon enough you found him on the couch 3 times a week, and then it was almost every night.

After 3 months of him sleeping on the couch from the early hours of the morning, you decide enough is enough. So you choose to confront him when he comes home from work.

At around 6, the time Billy's shift is over, you go to the kitchen and check on the dinner you've prepared. During your maternity leave you've taken to cooking and baking most days, and you're glad you have. It gives you something to do, and you've gotten pretty good at it, or so Billy says anyway.

Checking on the lasagna that's in the oven, you have to wipe your sweaty palms on your apron. You're honestly quite nervous to confront him. As much as you're ready to get to the root of the situation, you're terrified that he's going to turn around and tell you that he doesn't want this, doesn't want you, anymore.

It's 6:15 when Billy walks through the door, and he's not empty handed. He has a pink bouquet in his clutch, and you don't fail the notice how, even after all the bunches of flowers he's bought you over the years, the gesture still makes your stomach do a flip-flop.

"Hey, sweetheart." He doesn't hesitate to make his way to you and plant a big kiss on your lips, and you smile at him. It doesn't quite reach your eyes, however, and Billy notices. "You okay?" You nod in response. He eyes you wearily.

"I'm okay, babe, just tired." He doesn't believe you at all, but he doesn't push.

"These are for you. I saw them on my way this mornin' and they reminded me of you. Picked them up on the way back."

"Thank you, you're very sweet."

"Only for you." Usually a cheesy line like that would have you blushing and giggling at him, but not today. He doesn't even get so much as a breathy chuckle in return, just a half-hearted smile. And with that, he knows something is wrong. You go to turn back to the food you're preparing, but Billy stops you. "Hey, look at me." You do as he says, and he immediately notices the unshed tears in your eyes. "Baby, what's going on?" He reaches for your hand, and you don't pull away.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm alright, just hormones." You try to smile through your tears, but you think it probably comes out as more of a grimace than anything else.

"I don't believe you one bit. Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

"Billy, I'm really fine, just drop it." You say, snapping slightly.

He drops it.

You hand him his dinner plate and he makes his way to the table. You do the same, and Billy starts his usual retelling of his day. As much as you try to listen and engage, you're too busy thinking about what you're going to say to him, and Billy notices.

"Honey? Are you listening?" His concerned voice snaps you back into reality and you realise you haven't been paying attention.

"Sorry, Billy. Yes, I'm listening. Just zoned out for a second." He raises an eyebrow at your response.

"Okay, what's going on? Are you tired? Nauseous?"

"No, no it's not that. It's, uh, I just-" You stop yourself with a sigh, thinking it's best to pull yourself together a bit before you have this conversation. Taking a deep breath, you bite the bullet, "Why don't you sleep in our bed anymore?"

Billy looks shocked, then confused, then guilty, then a whole mix of other emotions that you're too tired to decipher.

"You noticed, huh?"

"Yeah, I noticed! Billy, you haven't slept a full night in our bed for 2 months. What the hell is wrong? Am I that repulsive to you that you can't even bare to sleep in the bed with me?" You know that's just the hormones talking, you didn't mean to say that, but you're curious anyway.

"What? No, of course not. That's not it at all." Billy's quiet when he talks, almost shameful. "Is that really what you think?" You nod. "Oh, god, honey, that's not what I think at all. You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful."

"Then why are you sleeping on the couch every damn night?"

"Baby, I-" He cuts himself off and rakes a hand through his hair, tugging a little out of stress. "C'mere, let's sit on the couch, 'kay?" He reaches for your arm, but you shy away from his touch, preparing yourself to be let down by what he has to say. Instead you walk over to your couch and Billy follows behind you like a kicked puppy.

Once settled on the couch, you don't say anything, waiting for Billy to explain his behaviour. He takes a deep breath, and stares at his hands, before speaking.

"I, uh- ever since we- Jesus Christ." His hand rakes through his hair again, and you can tell this isn't easy for him to say. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you were expecting the worst explanation, and that it isn't true, so you reach up and take his hand, linking your fingers with his and softly stroking your thumb on the back of his hand. He looks up at you, his eyes shining slightly.

"Take your time, it's alright. I'm in no rush." He sends you a small, grateful smile and does his best to blink back any tears threatening to leak from his eyes.

"You know how excited I am for our baby, right?" Billy says, and you nod your head. "Good. I'm so fuckin' stoked for us to have a kid. But for the past few months, I've been... having doubts." You're previously sympathetic looks contorts into one of confusion, and hurt. "Not those kind of doubts. Trust me, I wouldn't leave you to look after our kid all alone. I swear. I'm just seriously doubting my ability to be a dad."

"What's making you doubt yourself so much?"

"Neil." The name on Billy's tongue makes you still for a second. "I haven't been able to sleep lately because I keep having nightmares. And it's so stupid, 'cause I know he can't get me but I- God, I'm just so scared that I'm gonna turn out like him."

"You won't." Is all you say in reply.

"How do you know?" He asks quietly.

"Because I know you. I've known you since we were, what? 6?"

"5, actually."

"Exactly. Baby, I've known you forever, and I know that you're nothing like Neil. You wouldn't hurt a kid, and especially not your kid."

"But what if I get really angry and-" He cuts himself off with a hitch in his throat. "I don't wanna do something stupid, and I don't want my stupid actions to make you leave." He says the last part quietly, and it breaks your heart a little.

"Oh, Billy, is that what you're worried about? Me leaving?" He doesn't look at you, but you can tell by the way his mouth drops into a frown that he's confirming your suspicions. You can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, and he wraps his around your torso in response, gripping onto you like a vice. "I'm not gonna leave, and I'll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe me, alright?" Billy hugs you impossibly tighter. "And getting angry is normal. You've been angry at me before, right?" He nods into your neck. "And you've never laid a hand on me, right?" He nods firmly. "So I know you'd never hit our baby." You pull away from him slightly to look at him. His glassy eyes can't meet yours, so you press a kiss to his cheek and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you. So much." Billy's shaking hands make their way to your stomach, and he gently rubs in small circles with his thumbs. "I love you, too, kiddo." He manoeuvres his way to the floor into a crouching position and presses a soft kiss to your belly before standing back up and pulling you up with him. His arms snake around your waist and you lean into him, basking in the quiet of the moment, knowing that in a month there will be 3 of you. The thought makes your smile into Billy's chest, and you feel him kiss your temple lovingly. The guy couldn't hurt a fly, and you'll do everything you can to prove it to him, no matter how long it takes for him to believe you.

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i haven't even proof read this but here 🤗

#billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #stranger things 2 #stranger things #stranger things 3 #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfiction

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Watch Your Mouth - Max Verstappen

<word count - 1067>

scenario - after a self-proclaimed 'mistake' of a night with Red Bull driver Max Verstappen, you run into him the next day at the Monaco Grand Prix. All we'll say is he's not overly happy to see you.

Monaco. The most magical place in the world. You could smell money as you wandered down the pavements and nearly everyone was famous in some capacity.

You came every year to the grand-prix, and it had nearly become a tradition. But, what you never had expected, was running into a lot of the drivers in the club you frequented any time you were in Monte Carlo.

Surprisingly, you had gotten along really well with a certain Dutchman, and you had both stumbled into his hotel room, shirt buttons being undone and dresses being unzipped. As much as you tried to lie to yourself, you couldn't dispute that it was one of the best nights of your life.

The next morning, you woke up in a tangled sea of sheets with an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, pair of arms wrapped around your waist. For a few moments, you led there, recounting the nights events.

Not long after, the man next to you woke up, and hopped out of bed. Checking the clock, he rushed around getting dressed in his Red Bull apparel and dashing out the door. All he said to you was, "Feel free to order room service. I'll see you around," as he left you, naked, in his bed.

As expected, you were less than impressed. You felt like a bit of karma was in order, so you ordered the most expensive room service you could find - even if having lobster for breakfast wasn't ideal, it still tasted incredible.

To top it off, morning drinking didn't sound horrendous, you thought the best champagne on the menu would suffice. And oh boy it did. Leaving the dirty dishes behind, you slipped out of bed and stole a hoodie as well for compensation.

You forgot about the night as quickly as it had gone by, and headed to the Monaco GP with your paddock pass in hand. Scanning the pass, you wandered down the grid, taking it all in. Of course, you had to go to the pit lane to look around before everyone was cleared off for the race.

You peaked in the Ferrari garage, spotting Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz in the corner, talking about something. You couldn't help but fangirl, and all of that was increased when you walked by Lewis Hamilton.

Even if you did come here every year, it never got any less mesmerizing and awe-inspiring each time. As you continued, you bumped into someone who was definitely in a hurry to be somewhere. "I'm so sorry, I-" you started, but then you saw who you had bumped into.

"Oh, it's you," the Dutchman scoffed, looking you up and down. He had to admit, he could see why he had taken you home last night, but he couldn't get distracted right now. "It's lovely to see you too," you sarcastically smiled, his tone was far from pleasant.

"I wonder what the papers would say if they found out that F1 World Champion Max Verstappen was the kind of guy to fuck and run," you smirked, watching rage cloud his crystal blue eyes.

"Watch your mouth," he quietly scolded, leaning in closer to you to try and stop someone else from hearing you. "Is that what you really want? You seemed to quite like it last night," you teased.

Suddenly, Max grabbed your arm and dragged you through the Red Bull garage as quickly as his legs could take him. Opening a cupboard and slamming the door behind him, he flicked on the tiny blinking light in the room.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep that goddamn mouth of yours shut," he spat, his finger pointing in your face. He had fucked up. And he had fucked up with the wrong person. "Last night, you seemed to like it wide open," you carried on, loving the sight of him all flustered and scared. You wouldn't say anything to the papers, but he didn't need to know that.

Max sighed, in his head he was trying to find a way to solve the problem. "Don't say anything," he commanded, moving closer to you until your back bumped into the wall. "Funny, you were begging for the opposite a few hours ago," you winked, lapping up how hot and bothered he was getting. 

You let your mouth fall open as your imitated moans fell from your lips. Closing your eyes, you let yourself be transported back to his hotel room, the rest of the world locked outside of the door. "Fuck Max, harder," you whined, throwing your head back against the stone of the wall. 

As Max watched you, he was unsure of what to do. His jaw twitched uncomfortably as he listened to the sweet sounds of you. Was he aroused? Yes, yes he was. But now wasn't the time for this.

Without warning, Max pressed himself against you and pinned your hands up above your head in one swift movement. Aggressively, he stole your lips with his. It was surprising, but your tongues danced together in a perfect harmony. 

Ripping his lips off of yours, he looked down at you - lips puffy and cheeks reddened. "I thought that would shut you up," he smirked, loving having the upper hand right now. There was just something about you that drove him wild, and he nearly didn't recognize the man he was around you. 

"I think you're going to have to do it again, I might just start running my mouth," you pouted, and it didn't take long for Max to dive back into the kiss, grinding against you. "What's the time?" He asked.

"You're the one wearing a watch, you tell me," you scoffed at his silly question.

"I've got five minutes," he told you, taking one of his hands away from your wrists that were still held above your head. "We can do wonders in five minutes," you smiled, the devilish glint in his eye telling you everything you needed to know.

Max attached his lips to your neck, and you both knew that you'd struggle to stay away from each other. A lot can happen in five minutes, and you two knew you'd be a testament to that.

A/N - I have a few things to say here so bear with me. Part three of 'Baby Fever' will be out soon, I promise! Would you guys like a part 2 to this? Also, this is my favourite header I've made. I just love all the blues and Max looks great soooo....

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 one shot #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen angst #angst

[vivgst]

She hates monotony and loves the new challenge she finds in you, so she won't rest until she gets her way, as always (Part three).

Just one part left yayy, btw Idk what is happening but I think Tumblr is not showing my posts so pls INTERACT with this thanks<3333

TW: guns I guess, Idk how to use tw leave me alone.

Part of her expected that, to wake up and realize that you weren't by her side, that you had run away… such a coward. However, she did not expect to go to the club and not find you, as if earth had swallowed you and she began to get desperate.

Playing hard to get and not being afraid of her was one thing, but disappearing without telling her? It wasn't exactly the best thing you could do and she would find you, she would search even under the stones.

For now she was already at the club so she would try to make it worth it, she tried, she really did but it was difficult for her because she had already gotten used to the cold vibe that surrounded you, your arrogance, your stubbornness.

Having a woman in front of her who looked like a scaredy cat didn't exactly cause any memorable reaction, so she rolled her eyes.

“Are you new, chula?” She asked without much excitement, the woman who was in the room with her shook her head, Valeria wanted to die, this was not going to work...

She took a sip of her whiskey before getting up from the couch and leaving money on the table, she couldn't go back to be with women who were scared to even breathe the same air as her, women who weren't you. She needed the challenge, the swearing, the cold eyes.

So she would find you, she didn't even have to work for it, just ask here and there about you and soon she had an answer.

“I didn’t give you my home address.” You narrowed your eyes at her, she completely ignored you and walked in, walking around the place as if it was hers and gave you a look that was somewhere between mocking and impressed.

“Nice place, how many clients do you have daily to own a place like this?” You shrugged, the truth was that you didn't need too many clients when the one who had gotten you the place was only one, however you were a pain in the ass.

“Quite a few, I usually can't count them with one hand.”

"Careful". She gave you a stern look and you almost grinned, but you saved it. You walked to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of wine, Valeria looked at you from top to bottom, that black silk robe was quite tight, quite short, almost...

“Did you come here to fuck me?” You brought her out of her thoughts with that question and she scoffed, you were impossible, as blunt as usual.

“Fucking god…” She muttered, shaking her head and took a moment to look into your eyes, the truth is she didn't have an answer in mind, I mean, what had she thought when she came to your apartment? “I came because you were running away from me.”

“And if you know I'm running away from you, why the hell are you still looking for me?” You spoke in a monotone voice and Valeria gave you a look full of disbelief, you were detestable even though you were right but that didn't make you any less detestable.

"Because I can".

“I’m not going to have sex with you again.”

"Why?"

"Just because". That made Valeria growl in frustration, it was so difficult to get you to talk, she wanted to yell at you but even that wouldn't work. You took a sip from your glass and looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds before speaking again. “I don't like to enjoy it, I don't like to have sex for pleasure.”

She moved closer to you, cradling your face in her hands as her gaze burned into yours and you decided to blame the few sips of wine you had taken for the sudden urge to kiss her that you were feeling.

Valeria could notice something else in your gaze, guilt, perhaps, but she didn't ask any further, she didn't want to make you angry or uncomfortable.

"So… did you like it?" She asked in a mutter, her hands sliding down your body until they wrapped around your waist and pressed her body to yours, you placed your hands on her chest, you needed her to pull away but you wanted to have her close. You had mixed emotions and you let her take advantage of that, you let her bring her face closer to yours, your lips parting, inviting her to kiss them.

"I liked it". You admitted in a whisper and that was enough for Valeria to capture your lips in a kiss, a little slower than the previous ones you had shared. Her lips slid over yours almost tenderly and you clung to her, to her arms.

“Let me get you out of that place.” She spoke between kisses and you shook your head, you couldn't, you had problems to deal with and you didn't know if you would ever be able to escape from that place.

“I can't, no…” You said panting, pulling away from her, your lips still tingling with the feeling of the kiss, you hated wanting her so much.

Valeria was going to protest but was interrupted by the doorbell, she frowned, who was looking for you so late at night?

She felt even more confused when she looked at your face, you looked scared. You weren't even afraid of her, there were bodies covered with narcomantas all over the town thanks to her and her desire to mark territory and you never hesitated to tell her to go fuck herself so, who could make you scared like that?

"You have to go". You spoke as you hurried to throw away the remaining wine from your glass and almost dragged her to the door, Valeria wasn't going to protest, she was going to watch.

You opened the door to a tall man, his long hair tied in a ponytail and he probably had more tattoos than years, he didn't look like a gang member but more like a rich kid, his gaze and Valeria's met for a slight moment as she left your apartment and once she was outside she began to hear a lot of yelling, which made her lose her patience a little.

She went to the parking lot and once she was inside the car she had an internal battle between getting back and punching the bastard in the face or just leaving. She had a lot of questions, she wanted to know if that idiot was the one who had hit you, if he was the client who had made you get used to violence and why the hell you depended on him so much.

And since she knew very well that her questions would fall on deaf ears, she would look for the answers herself.

“Pues la familia tiene varo, son franceses y medio gringos, él sí nació aquí” (Well, the family is wealthy, they’re half French and half Americans, he was born here though). Diego spoke as he went through the folders with the information he had gotten of Kyle, the boy Valeria had seen in your apartment.

“Hmm… ¿Y por qué chingados le paga todo?” (Hmm… and why the fuck does he pays everything for her?) She mumbled thoughtfully, she had a lot of information about him, but Valeria was getting nowhere with all this, he had kept you out of his life it seemed.

“Pues no sé, wey” (I don’t know, dude). Diego spoke and cleared his throat when Valeria glared at him, he couldn't afford not to have the answers she wanted. “Pero se la pasa en el club el vato, yo creo que vive del varo de los papás” (But he is always at the club, I think he lives off his parents' money.)

“Lo más probable, está morro aún” (Probably, he’s still young). Valeria looked at Diego for a few seconds before taking the folders and looking through them, she felt stupid for going to such lengths for you, you would probably be mad at her, again.

She gave a couple more instructions to her men before she was left alone in the mansion, she was thinking what the hell she would do.

She didn't need information to threaten him, fuck the reasons why you were seeing him, she would get him away from you and that's it, she had no laws and she didn't care how rich that kid was.

The boy's smug look swept over Valeria from head to toe and she narrowed her eyes at him, she was in no mood to take shit from anyone, much less from that brat.

"You can't touch me." He spoke and she let out a mocking laugh, giving him a condescending look. If Valeria hated something, it was being challenged, there was no one untouchable for her, she had no laws.

And to prove her point, she pulled her gun from the holster on her hip and shot him in the leg, making him scream in pain, fear, or maybe both, finally his gaze had the fear she thought it should have in a situation like the one he was in. She approached him, crouching slightly to look him in the eyes intently.

“There are no rules in cartels, kid. I don't want you to touch her, to pay for her things, to look at her, I don't want you to go to the club again to breathe the same air as her, do you understand?” He didn't respond, he was dizzy from pain and fright, Valeria didn't give a damn though and pressed her gun on his wound, he growled, looking at her with rage but nodded, he couldn't speak.

“Take him back, tell the family what will be left of him if he keeps sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”

Diego and Álvaro almost dragged him out of there and she let out a sigh, talking to you would probably be another headache because you were stubborn as a mule and refused to accept help but Valeria couldn't help it and especially after having seen that expression of fear on your face that had made her blood boil, she had to meddle.

So she got busy concluding her work and that same night she went to the club, you were there, wearing another of those dresses that made you look out of this world and she was enthralled for a moment.

“Damn woman…” She muttered sounding bitter, you drove her crazy, just seeing you from afar made her feel a thousand things that she couldn't explain.

And all those feelings only increased once your gaze met hers.

#valeria cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #valeria garza smut #valeria garza x you #valeria garza cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #modern warfare #mw2 #lesbian #wlw #sapphic

[captain-mj]

I’m on my hands and knees BEGGING you for a stripper au 🙇🙇🙇🙇

Of course!! I've been dying to make one of these!!

Soap should not be here. He's a college professor for fuck's sake. He makes decent money but it's the principle of the things. Why would he go to a strip club when he could go to the bar and actually go home with someone?

But it was what his friends had invited him to do and he went along with it.

He tried not to overthink his clothing or the chances of him seeing any of his students there.

Soap ordered a scotch and tried to find somewhere to sit. It was a mixed club with men and women. It seemed... a little seedy despite the more expensive feeling of the place. Something about the entire thing felt off. He brushed off his feelings, blaming Catholic judgement for it.

Chuy had amassed a group of men and women around him to listen to his cryptid facts. He occasionally passed them money so they were making something but they were also choosing to stay next to him.

Gaz was staring at Chuy, trying to understand how he managed to do that.

Alejandro had disappeared... somewhere.

Soap took a sip of his drink, liking it at least. He doubted it was anything too fancy but it did the job just fine.

Pretty people went past him. Some flirted or tried to get him to take a lap dance, but he wasn't interested. They were nice, but not really his type. Nor did he want to blow a bunch of money just for the sake of it.

Soap found a place to sit where he could watch the stage, trying to see where everyone had disappeared to.

There was someone his type. Tall. Dressed in black. Broad shoulders and burly chest. Makeup all around his eyes. Pretty eyeliner.

The man, Ghost if his name tag meant anything, looked more like a bouncer than a stripper. But he was shirtless with just a mask and tight pants and he was eyeing Soap.

Big doe brown eyes staring into him, silently asking if he wanted his attention.

Soap was very happy there was an ATM nearby. With a confidence that was very much faked, he motioned for him to come over.

Ghost walked over. He didn't bat his eyelashes or immediately straddle him. He just stood between Soap's legs and looked down at him, almost like he inconvenienced him.

Soap put a twenty in Ghost's pocket and that look melted away, replaced with something much nicer.

"You look lonely."

Fucking Brits. Of course he was British. That didn't change that Soap's body had a visceral reaction to his voice.

"It's cause I am. Come to give me some company?"

Ghost laughed at him. It made Soap shrink back and his cheeks flushed. If anything though, it made him a little harder in his jeans. "You're cute. Name?"

Soap looked down his body, admiring the hard muscle and the slightly softer stomach. His hands fidgeted. "Soap."

"You can touch. And my name is Ghost."

Soap was immediately all over him. He'd like to use his mouth but that would be a little much in such a public area.

It would occur to him in exactly six hours that one of the biggest rules about strip clubs is you don't touch the dancer. And that Ghost had not let anyone else touch him that night. That would be in six hours though and right now, he was just marveling at the scarring along Ghost's body.

They were impossible to see with the club lighting, but he could feel them under his fingertips. The texture similar to a scar he had on his hand from dropping a knife.

He squeezed his eyes tight and gripped Ghost's sides. Ghost's hand grabbed his chin and made him look up. Dark eyes inches from his face.

"You alright, love?"

Soap shoved more money into Ghost's hands. "How much for a private dance?"

"I don't usually do those."

Soap must've looked distressed because Ghost, the saint, took pity on him. "Fine. How much do you have?"

"Three hundred dollars."

"I'll give you an hour."

Soap nodded and followed him excitedly. He didn't miss Ghost's amused glance.

The man grabbed the pole, slowly spinning around it as he watched Soap sit down. "You're adorable."

Soap blushed more and dropped his money at Ghost's feet. "Going to lose the mask?"

"You don't want me to. Trust me." Ghost jumped up and spun faster, suspending himself and expose his chest more.

"You ugly under there?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Worried I'll fall in love with you?"

"Absolutely." Ghost spun around slowly and arched his back. "Can't have you following me home, vying for me attention."

Soap felt himself getting hard. His body moved with such fluidity and grace that it was hard to not think of how it would feel to be underneath him. To have Ghost grabbing his hips. Would he prefer to be on top or bottom? He was more than happy either way. As long as those fucking abs were pressed against him, he could live with it.

Ghost crossed over to him and straddled him. He was so much bigger. So much fucking bigger. "Your hands go below my belt and I'll get you banned."

"Yes, sir."

"I like sir."

"Anything you want, sir." Soap smiled at him and put his hands on Ghost's waist. He ground down on him, the pressure against his body making him half crazy. His hips jerked up and Ghost paused, glaring.

"Don't move."

Soap took a deep breath and nodded. Ghost started to move again, letting Soap get a good look on him. It was so easy to imagine less clothing. God, he'd bankrupt himself to have Ghost riding him like this. His pants had slid down to see his v-line.

Soap slid his hands further up and touched his throat. Ghost purred and pressed in harder. "You're a pretty guy, you know that?"

Soap blushed more. "Thank you, sir."

Ghost stood up and trailed his hands between Soap's thighs, so tempting. Was he actually going to?? To touch?? him?? He was hoping for a lot here but his hands were getting so close.

Gaz knocked quickly. "Hey, Johnny, we gotta go. Right now. We're getting kicked out. Alejandro flirted a little too much with his favorite stripper."

Soap felt his heart sink. "Wai-"

Ghost stood up and fixed his pants. "Oh. You're Vargas's friend?"

Soap cringed. "Ah. Is that a bad thing?"

"Get out."

Soap moped the entire night, being extra mean to Alejandro for ruining that for him.

"I think I just missed the love of my life."

"He was a stripper. He just wanted your money." Chuy pointed out. He was currently washing the phone numbers off his arm. All of them were glaring at him.

Soap went to bed and maybe cried a little. Just a little. He refused to be that heartbroken over a guy he met for five minutes. His dick was heartbroken though.

Fucking Vargas.

He couldn't blame him too much. It was Rodolfo he had been flirting with. Those two had been chasing each other for ages and now Alejandro just blew as much money on him as he could until he ran out and Rodolfo kicked him out for it.

Soap crawled out of bed that day and went to work. He passed all of his colleagues, still thinking of those dark eyes and gorgeous body.

"Professor MacTavish." One of his colleagues greeted him as he passed.

Soap froze and turned around. Dark eyes. Gorgeous body. Ginger hair.

Professor Riley, someone Soap barely interacted with, stood there. Cardigan wrapped around him. He wore a medical mask thanks to self proclaimed "hideous" scarring.

"Hi..."

Ghost looked at him. "Yes, MacTavish?"

"I..."

Ghost tilted his head, looking confused. "Something wrong?"

Soap shook his head. "No..."

Ghost nodded and turned away to keep making his tea.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost

[avatar-anna]

Nothing Left to Lose

saw this photo on pinterest and got inspired! happy weekend, y'all!

Masterlist

*.*

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Don't—Don't ask me that. Please."

"Why?"

Harry sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face, wincing when his fingertips came back with blood on them. "Because we promised not to lie to each other, and I don't want to give you an answer you won't like."

"Damn it, Harry!"

Y/n looked like she wanted to hit something, probably him, but he was too far out of reach. Angry tears lined her eyes as she took an anxious drag from the cigarette that dangled between her fingers, but Harry knew better than to go to her. She was pissed, and he needed to let her seethe properly before comforting her.

"I'm sorry—"

"You're not because you keep doing it!" A tear slipped from Y/n's eye, but she quickly wiped it away. "I told you I didn't want any part of this life. You said—You said you wouldn't do this anymore."

"This isn't something you just send your two weeks notice into, Y/n. I can't just say, 'I quit.'"

"Don't try to explain that bullshit to me, Harry!"

That was a wrong choice of words. Sighing, Harry took a chance and stepped closer to Y/n. "I'm trying, Y/n, really. I know it doesn't sound like it, but I am. I just don't...I don't know how to safely get out of this."

"Then let's run away," Y/n said, grabbing onto his hands desperately, neither of them minding the smoke curling between them. Harry's knuckles were split and bruised, dried blood caked around them, though most of it wasn't his, yet she held onto them anyway. Y/n had never been one to shy away from a little blood. "We can go somewhere, anywhere. The world is such a big place Harry. His network doesn't stretch that far. We can—We can forget all of this."

"It's not that easy—"

"He's using you!" she cried. "He's using you to get to me, you have to know that, Harry."

Harry held her face in his hands as he rested his forehead against hers. He knew nothing about the life they shared was easy. From the moment he stumbled into the bar she worked at, battered and bruised and reeking of trouble, he knew. Y/n had known right away that he was one of her father's men, even if the easily recognizable tattoo that curled around his shoulder and up his neck was covered thanks to the hoodie he wore. What she didn't know was that he'd been purposely tasked with keeping an eye on her, a direct order from her father. That little secret came out months after they met, after Harry realized he was falling for Y/n and that he couldn't hide it anymore.

This wasn't what he expected out of life. He'd fallen into the wrong crowd long before he ever should've, and it spiraled into a life he knew he shouldn't have been proud of. But the money was good and if he kept his head down he didn't get into any serious trouble. There were a couple nights where guilt kept him from sleeping, or when he lied awake in a safehouse because someone else fucked up and he had to disappear for a few days. Maybe his line of work wasn't something to be proud of, but he grew up believing he wouldn't amount to anything, and this life, the one he built for himself, was his and his alone.

All that changed when he met Y/n, though.

He'd never met her prior to the job her father had tasked him with. His boss' daughter was elusive at best, but it was well-known that they were estranged. But Y/n's father still considered her his greatest pride and joy, hence sending Harry to keep an eye on her to make sure she was safe. He'd taken the job, mostly because he couldn't really say no to his boss, but also because he thought it would be easy enough, stress free.

Falling in love was never the objective, yet here he was, and it killed him to see his love cry.

"I know," Harry said quietly, maybe even sounding a little defeated.

"I want a life with you, H," Y/n pleaded, resting her hands over his. "I want a long life with you without my father's shadow hanging over our heads. This...this isn't living. We're hiding."

"I know," he said again. "I know, you're right."

"I love you," Y/n said. "So much, H. That's why it freaks me out when you leave and come back like this. I...I hate what he does. He ruins people, Harry."

Part of him believed it was impossible to get out from under her father's thumb, and part of him was scared of leaving everything he'd ever known behind to start over somewhere new. But for Y/n, he was willing to try. A future with her was worth running into unknown territory.

Harry tried for a smile and kissed Y/n's forehead. "If it makes you feel better, I had a terrible night."

"Mm...Maybe a little," she said, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"Is persuading you to kiss it all away off the table?"

Y/n's smile softened into something more somber. "Promise me we'll run away."

Harry looked into Y/n's eyes, saw all the hurt that the cuts and bruises and blood he came home covered in affected her. He wasn't just looking out for himself anymore, Y/n was a part of his life he wasn't willing to give up. She was a non-negotiable, and making her happy had to be his top priority.

"We'll run away," he promised. "Wherever you wanna go, baby. Just you and me."

"Really?" she asked, as if she actually thought Harry wouldn't agree.

"Name a time and place, and we'll go," he said. "I love you, Y/n. I'm in this with you. All of that bullshit means nothing when I have you."

Y/n exhaled, and Harry could practically see a weight lift from her shoulders. Leaning in, she kissed him once, pulling back and giggling a little as she rubbed a thumb gently over the cut on his lip. Pressing one kiss to his cheek, she took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom they shared.

"Let's see about getting those cuts cleaned up."

"I've actually got one that needs really special attention—"

"Shut up, Styles!"

Harry just grinned as he took the cigarette from Y/n's offering hand and put it in his mouth, happy to hear the laughter in Y/n's voice. There was light for them at this long, winding tunnel. He believed in it, he wanted it enough to believe in it. Harry had never tried to leave this life behind because it was all he'd ever known, there was no reason to try to build a life outside of the crimes he committed. Y/n should've felt that way too, but she didn't. She wanted more for herself, and for him now too. Harry was willing to give up everything, to risk everything, to make sure he was happy, that he was able to give her the life that she wanted.

And if slipping between the fingers of the most powerful man in the city was what she wanted, then he'd find a way to make it happen.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot

[deadpool15]

Sugarbaby vibes ✨️

I walked out of the fitting room wearing the shit Chanel set. Let's be honest I looked to fucking die for, but once I saw the price it looked mid. Of course I wanted it and speaking of price it's Chanel what did I expect. If anything I suggested, let's go thrifting, as you can tell I didn't grow up with money. I'm still trying to get used to living this life now, it's crazy hoe just last week I was struggling to afford a pack of fucking Ramen at the convenience store and now I live in a penthouse. Your girl did, in fact, come up in life. You all better be proud. All thanks to the one and only Bada Lee.

Bada is about 28, and I'm 22, so there is a slight age gap if you care about any of that. Shit I didn't. I just needed someone to pay my bills. How we met it quite an interesting story if you think about it, I mean, I didn't sign up for a sugar mama like on the weird ass movies or stories you see on Wattpad. I was, in fact, working as a waiter in this high-end restaurant with might I add a shitty pay. Why are we serving all this expensive ass shit and in only getting made a few bucks in an hour? It's giving slavery, and not mentions my boss who, like most men, convince himself within the 3 minutes of hiring me that I was destined to be his furtre wife and the mother of his children as he call it. If you wanted to know what crazy looks like, we'll Mr. Kim is a prime example.

But we are getting of topic. See, I don't wanna tell you about my overly obsessive ass boss. I wanna tell you about the women who turned my life around. Serving tables is absolute shit, especially when no matter how rich one is, they never tip. "Hey Blue, bossman says he needs you at table six." I turned around to my partner in crime, Leslie. I'm happy to see her until I realized what she said, "I'm on break, though, like all these people around here . Can't he bother someone else." She gave me a sad smile and shrugged, "no, you know he likes to watch you suffer, because he expects after a while you will give in and let him take you out on a date." I stare at her with disgust.

"Yea, never mind your you're right. I'll take my chances with the wolves again. I'm just get going. If he asks again, make sure to tell him I chose getting screamed and yelled at my rich elderly woman over acknowledging his existence. " I hurried and jog off before she could say anything, grabbing my notepad and pen out of my pocket I had towards table six. With the biggest fake smile on. The love I have for these customers is crazy.

I stand there saying my usual line in the most chipper voice one can muster, whiteout even looking at the person sitting down in front of me. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm blue and very happy to serve you tonight. So what can I get, you folks?" I hear someone speak before muttering something about how I'm pretty, then I finally gather the courage to look up and see a group of women. All dressed to perfection, clothes tailored just to fit their figure. Those majority of them look around my age or slightly older. After a moment of being caught in a daze while overanlyzing them, I turn to her the tallest one of the bun speak up. "I would like to have a water to drink and just some shrimp pasta."

I make eye contact with her and my God. This is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. It almost feels like i should have to pay a fee to look upon her face. My stare moves down to her lips and not e how nice and pump they are. I would kill to suck on those lips, to feel what they tasted like even. I realize I've just been staring at her while the rest of the women have spoken uo about their order already. "Oo, I'm s-so sorry." I state being an absolute nervous wreck while looking down at my notepad. I hope she didn't notice that. "It's fine, sweetheart," I heard the girl that was referred to ad Lusher somewhere in the conversation state to me. I hurry up and excuse myself to go get their orders. She keeps staring at me, bitting the inner part of her check. Eventually, they leave after a while, leaving a $200 tip for me. I almost couldn't believe it. This I'd the first time someone has ever given me that much money as a tip.

After a while, the girl continues to come to our little restaurant. Same table, same confidence aura and everything. She makes it seem as if she is trying to just get something to eat. We continue to see each other even after work. She would pop in on my breaks, and around the time, I would clock out. She was intimidating. I'll get her that. I spoke with class, and her vibe just let you know she had money. And it seemed she had her eyes on a certain girl. Me. Though, after beating around the bush, Bada told me exactly what she wanted. "I want to take care of you. You'll never have to worry about a single thing when you're with me. Or lift a finger. Give you the life you deserve, baby. I mean, you are a cute little waitress, but you can be so much more. Why waste your time when you have me. Just say the words, and I'll take care of you."

Some might've immediately said yes, and to be honest, I would've to. Until Bada told me there were rules. Which did kinda throw me off a bit. I mean, I thought I had the whole idea down until well, I realized I didn't. It wasn't just about the money it was the pleasure. How much would she give me, and fuck did she give me a lot. Well lived by only a few rules, but Bada took them very seriously.

Rule 1: Don't question anything

Rule 2: Don't talk back

Rule 3: Don't touch yourself

You should've seen the look on my face when I heard the third rule, I mean, at the bright age of 22, who the hell doesn't masturbate. Literally made no sense to me until she tried to explain it further. "I give you pleasure. I'm the only one who should be touching you. I'm general baby. You belong entirely to me. That's how this works. Therefore, you shouldn't be doing anything without my permission cupcake." After finally going over the terms, I agreed in the end. At the end of the day, I was a broke college student who desperately needed the money, and Bada just so happens to be the sexy older one willing to give it to me. In a sense, I was happy with my current predicament. My life was going well. Now, back to what I was saying earlier.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, I forget that I can look this good. "Yea, ayye, get it, girl." In the process of hyping myself up, I finally hear a voice speak up from behind me, scaring the absolute shit out of me. "I'm glad you like it, baby. It does look good on you, I told you I have an eye for beautiful things. I mean, just look at my baby girl." She says while holding on to my waist, kissing my neck slowly. I smile for a while until I realize what she is doing. "Baby, we are in public, a fitting room at that. We aren't doing that here," I say, trying to be firm while avoiding her glaze in the mirror.

"What did I tell you about saying no to me, huh? Do you make the rules?" She forcefully grabbed my chin when she caught on to the act. She grabs my breast while still making eye contact with me in the mirror. "That's right, just stand right here, ok? Gonna be my good girl, right?" I stare at the door, thinking about the people outside that will hear us. While I'm thinking about them, Bada moved the hand that was holding me under my top, slowly circling my right nipple. "Gonna be good, right?" She asks again,she never has enough patience to ask again. It seems she is being nice today. I nod my head at her question this time.

"Word babygirl, I need to hear you. Let them hear you. Just stop all that thinking for me." I whimper at her words. Finally, forgetting about the staff in the store. She moves her hand down my body, teasing me with her pace. "P-please, I'll be g-good. Gonna be so good for you." She smirks, looking down at my face before moving her hand towards my soaked pussy. "Always so f-fucking good for me, aren't you? My precious little baby. Just needs to be filled, like always." I look into her eyes in the mirror about to answer her before she insert a finger into me, all while still playing with my breasts. She knows my body like the back of her hand. Doesn't even have to try to find the spot.

"Yea, right there, come on. I can't hear you, baby girl." I know exactly the game she is playing at, but I can only stand there moaning like a bitch in heat being held on my weak jelly-like legs as she adds two more fingers. While she grinds her hips into me, fuck those bloody dancers and there hips. "Y-yes y-yes... shit o fuck right there". She just smiles at my reactions. Assuming to her if anything. "Were gonna buy this little outfit, then I'm gonna by 28 fucking more just to fuck the shit out of you in them. And you gonna let me, aren't you?. Gonna take it like a good girl who just needs her holes filled, right?" I shake my head, screaming yes over and over again while nodding profusely. Seems that's the only word my brain can come up with as she starts to suck down on my neck leaving marks while circling my clit with her thumbs. And she still continues to thrust those same three fingers in and out of me ob command.

"Fucked you dumb, aww that's adorable baby. But we just started, " She says while smirking, and I stare at her in a mix of fear and pleasure. "Now open those legs wider for me, baby girl."

#swf2 #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fic #swimmingismywholelife

[yurislotusgarden]

Relationship hc's

ʚїɞ Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Dazai's version

ʚїɞ word count: 1425

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ I love this man

ཐིཋྀ Anyway

ཐིཋྀ We all know he would be a gentleman to you <3

ཐིཋྀ Whether you live together or not, there's always a bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase somewhere. Once they show even a small sign of dying he replaces them

ཐིཋྀ You still aren't sure how he knows about the flowers starting to wilt even when he's in another part of Japan or even another fucking country

ཐིཋྀ This man does both fancy and casual types of dates. Prefers fancy ones tho

ཐིཋྀ "Why have so much money and not use it to spoil the shit out of the love of my life?" <--- Chuuya wanting to spoil the fuck out of you all the time

ཐིཋྀ You probably live together after quite a short amount of time, like less than 8 months kind of short

ཐིཋྀ He's just so worried about your safety :(

ཐིཋྀ Both generally and because of his position as an executive

ཐིཋྀ You don't mind tho, don't lie to yourself

ཐིཋྀ Protective. Not overprotective but it's definitely up there on the scale. Kinda justified though

ཐིཋྀ Possessive mf

ཐིཋྀ Again, you don't mind as it's not to the point of being controlling and shit

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, he still worries, just a little less since he knows you can take care of yourself

ཐིཋྀ If you're not an executive, you work under him for sure. Chuuya requested a change (if you weren't under him from the start) as soon as he realized this funny feeling he gets around you is love <3

ཐིཋྀ You know Dazai. No questions asked or doubt

ཐིཋྀ I saw around some time ago that someone wrote that Dazai breaks into wherever Chuuya lives. I’m sure it ain’t canon so just saying I very much hc him doing that

ཐིཋྀ You can see what I’m getting at, you probably met because of Dazai breaking into your guys' place😭

ཐིཋྀ Imagine you're cooking or something and hear someone in the house (Dazai doesn't try to hide he's there since he thinks Chuuya's home because of the light in the kitchen), thinking it's Chuuya you go to greet him before realizing  it's not him but someone else-

ཐིཋྀ "Who are you and why are you here?"

ཐིཋྀ "Those should be my questions asshole!"

ཐིཋྀ "The fuck you mean?"

ཐིཋྀ "I live here? You literally broke into my house!"

ཐིཋྀ "You live here? But it's the slugs house isn't it? Did I break into the wrong place???" He knows he didn't

ཐིཋྀ "Wait 'slugs'-"

ཐིཋྀ You totally didn't realize who Dazai is because of that nickname, nope. Chuuya didn't complain about a mackerel at all no-

ཐིཋྀ That was literally yall's first convo

ཐིཋྀ Dazai standing like he should be there, and you standing there with a gun pointed at him (that you have from Chuuya because he has weapons all over the house just in case anyway. That one was in the kitchen)

ཐིཋྀ You guys proceeded to talk like you guys knew each other for years until the ginger came home and flipped the fuck out at the sight

ཐིཋྀ He thought you would have a peaceful life by not knowing the stack of bandages

ཐིཋྀ And to the gingers' chagrin, you and the brunette ended up being good friends

ཐིཋྀAs to who knows about yall depends on who you are

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, most if not all will know at some point

ཐིཋྀ Mori would probably not do anything about it as long as it doesn't affect your guys' performance on missions

ཐིཋྀ If you're a civilian, the people who know about you are the people he's the closest to and Mori somehow finds out

ཐིཋྀ Kouyou adores you if you share at least some interests and you don't mind being friends with mafiosos (basically not judging them just because of their work)

ཐིཋྀ You guys drink tea together. Even if you don't like tea, she managed to find one that you like

ཐིཋྀ Even if you don't share interests, she will have nothing against you as long as you ain't hurting Chuuya

ཐིཋྀ Akutagawa siblings know for sure, you basically adopted them LMAO

ཐིཋྀ You and Gin go shopping together, sometimes tugging Ryu around against his will with yall

ཐིཋྀ I mentioned Mori, he at first didn't care if the relationship didn't change anything and Chuuya was as efficient as normally

ཐིཋྀ But Elise met you in the city by accident and decided she likes you and deemed you her friend, so Moto “asked” you to play with her from time to time

ཐིཋྀ Goodluck if you're a low-energy person

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM and Elise wants to Play with you, you are for sure a little bit safer around Mori

ཐིཋྀ He doesn't want to deal with her whining and throwing a tantrum if he doesn't have to, so if you not being killed will make Elise happy, he won't do it

ཐིཋྀ Going back to the topic

ཐིཋྀ Rides on his motorcycle with you holding him tightly from behind right?

ཐིཋྀ Mf rides faster than necessary just because he likes it when you squeeze his waist because you think you will fall off

ཐིཋྀ He won't let you but oh well

ཐིཋྀ Similar to Dazai, man has got a grip of steel, so good luck getting up from his lap, cuddling, or in the morning if he won't want you to. We all know he ain’t weak, not in the slightest

ཐིཋྀ Would teach you self-defense if you don't already know it. He for sure doesn’t complain at having to do that, the view he gets is quite pretty y’know? You can say the same about your view :)

ཐིཋྀ This is purely a hc of mine but he would teach you French if you will ask him!!!

ཐིཋྀ Yes I'm one of those who hc that Chuuya either generally knows French due to Kouyou teaching him and Dazai, or he has some French genetics and wanted to just learn it either way taught by Kouyou LMAO

ཐིཋྀ Hope you aren’t weak to French because he can and will flirt with you in it <3

ཐིཋྀ If you are tho, knees? Weak. Nonexistent. Goodbye.

ཐིཋྀ Mister here will use it to his advantage. He knows what he’s doing and he ain’t stopping

ཐིཋྀ If you know a language he doesn't, he will gladly learn it just to speak in it with you. Especially if you're a foreigner, he certainly will learn your native tongue at one point. But, if you know a language he doesn't just because you wanted to know it, he learns it anyway

ཐིཋྀ Another way to shit-talk people without their knowledge <33

“I'm so lucky to be dating your pretty ass”

“I don't understand, doll. Say it in a language I can understand.”

“No, I don't think so, pretty boy”

“Are you cussing me out or something?”

ཐིཋྀ ^You talking to Chuuya in your language before he knew it to confuse him

ཐིཋྀ He was indeed confused

ཐིཋྀ Speaking of hc’s, heterochromia Chuuya <3

ཐིཋྀ You love his eyes, one blue and one brown. You fluster him because of just staring at his eyes and at him generally

ཐིཋྀ He lets you play with his hair, style, and all

ཐིཋྀ It's so soft you considered stealing his hair stuff when you first run your hands through it

ཐིཋྀ He wouldn't mind, wouldn't even try to stop you. Would probably encourage it actually

ཐིཋྀ It's playing into his possessiveness 

ཐིཋྀ This man has style, we know that. He also happens to have a big closet with his clothes :)

ཐིཋྀ Want a Chuuya-looking puddle on the floor? Wear. His. Clothes.

ཐིཋྀ The ginger will literally die if he comes home to you wearing his clothes. Anything. Wear anything and you will spot a wild Chuuya puddle in its natural habitat the floor

ཐིཋྀ AND IF YOU ASK HIM IF YOU CAN WEAR HIS STUFF WHILE EMBARRASSED???

ཐིཋྀ You make him want to sob :(

ཐིཋྀ Happily of course

ཐིཋྀ Use his shower stuff like shampoo and walk around in his clothes

ཐིཋྀ It does things to him

ཐིཋྀ Both fluffy and unholy thoughts are in this man's head if you’re just wearing his stuff

“Doll, you can’t do this to me.”

“Huh?”

ཐིཋྀ You’re either genuinely confused by his words or playing with him

ཐིཋྀ It ends the same anyways :) 

ཐིཋྀ “Take my card and go crazy, love.”

ཐིཋྀ ^Chuuya on any occasion

ཐིཋྀ If he could he would spend his money on you, he would but you always stop him

ཐིཋྀ Therefore that’s Chuuya on any occasion because he has an excuse for it

ཐིཋྀ Price tag? What’s that?

ཐིཋྀ It doesn’t exist in his eyes, you are worth every single penny in his wallet <3

ཐིཋྀ You guys have spa days at home

ཐིཋྀ Share skin care routines if you can

Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #port mafia x reader

[navybrat817]

A Price to Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader Summary: Steve demands retribution when Ransom crosses a line. Ransom offers you as payment. Word Count: Almost 2.9k Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements (do not read if that upsets you), blackmail, coercion, choking, swearing, talks of violence, forced cheating, Ransom is an asshole, mob!Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Another old WIP completed! I began this in August of 2021. This will be connected to a future Bucky fic and I may expand on Steve's story if there is interest. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @little-diable and @sweeterthanthis, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @maysdigitalarts and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ransom Drysdale was the worst mistake you ever made. The man exuded arrogance, yet you were somehow attracted to his confidence. Maybe it was because yours wasn't strong enough at the time. His charm won you over, even as you tried to resist. He didn't strike you as the type who wanted a long-term relationship, but he convinced you to give him a chance. He swore you wouldn't regret it. 

"Best decision you'll ever make."

Fool me once, shame on you. 

Ransom didn't deserve you. You figured that out when you caught him in the first lie. You weren't supposed to hear his phone call as he watched the news. He wasn't usually that careless, as you would later find out.

At first you thought he cheated on you. It would have explained his hushed calls and random outings after you moved in. You almost wished he had been seeing someone else. That would have made it easier to walk away and never look back. 

"Yeah, I'm watching. Like I give a shit if his company falls or his wife leaves. Should've kept his dick in his pants. And you should've seen the stupid look on his face when I told him there were photos. I told him what would happen if he didn't wire the money. Fucker's paying for it now, isn't he?"

"... Ransom?"

"... Fuck. I'll call you back."

He brushed you off when you questioned him. He even tried to convince you that you were hearing things. He dropped the charade when he realized you weren't going to let it go. 

"Just can't let me have my fun, can you?"

You thought Ransom came from money, which he had growing up. Somewhere along the way his grandfather cut him off. He had to find more creative ways to keep his cash flow going - like blackmail. Trading secrets and exposing scandals when necessary were second nature to him. And he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. 

But he swore he'd stop when he saw your tears.

"I'm done, pumpkin. It was the last one. Cross my heart."

Fool me twice, shame on me. 

It was easier when you were blissfully unaware of the kind of man he truly was. The affectionate touches and gasps he drew from you couldn't wash away what he had done. He ruined lives just to keep his pockets full. And you knew in your heart he wouldn't let you go. Not because he loved you, but because you were a liability.

He made that clear when you caught him again and said you needed space.

"You're not leaving me."

You could barely walk by the time he was done fucking you that night. A sore reminder that crossing him wasn't a smart move. But he never raised a hand to you. He didn't leave visible scars. You carried them where no one could see. So why would your friends and family who were still around ever side with you? 

"I own you. Don't you ever fucking forget it."

You weren't completely helpless. You played your part and learned a few secrets of your own, like how Ransom's grandfather really died. You pieced together that Ransom was the one who killed him, but he still didn't get enough money in the will to satisfy him. 

He'll never be satisfied. 

It took time and careful planning to make sure you had enough money set aside to leave. He dipped into your main account, of course, but you had a rainy day fund from before you met him that he would never touch. You could have a fresh start and maybe expose him in the process. But you still felt like a coward. 

Was that why he chose to be with me? Because I'm weaker than him? 

"Pumpkin, where are you?" you heard as the front door opened. 

Glancing at the clock, you tried not to panic. He isn't supposed to be home yet. You quickly stashed your bag under the bed and swallowed the lump in your throat. "Coming!" you called back, smoothing out your dress and checking your reflection before you made your way downstairs to the study.

I can still leave tonight. I can even leave tomorrow. I'll be fine.

You took a deep breath before you entered the room, surprised to find two other men with Ransom. 

"There she is. Finally," Ransom said, a glass of scotch already in hand.

Your heart raced in your chest as you glanced at the man who sat across from Ransom. His broad body radiated power and strength, his presence dominating the entire room. And he wasn't even standing. You expected his gaze to be harsh when he looked at you, but his blue eyes softened the longer he stared. You had to look away after a minute. 

Your gaze landed on the figure beside him. The brunette looked just as intimidating as the blonde, his gaze cold. The corner of his lip tugged into a smile as he lifted his hand in a wave. It was a metal hand. 

"Relax. We won't bite. Well… I won't."

Ransom rolled his eyes, "Pumpkin, take a seat. We need to talk."

Nothing good ever happened when someone needed to talk. "About what?" you asked as you sat in the empty chair on the other side of Ransom.

"This is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes," he introduced, taking a sip of his scotch. "They're here on business."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to judge these men, but you knew it had to be something shady. Nothing Random did was ever pure.

Steve shifted in his chair to face you. "Care to tell me your name, sweetheart? You don't strike me as the type who likes to be called 'pumpkin'."

You avoided Ransom's subtle glare as you cleared your throat and said it. 

"It’s nice to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better," he smiled gently. "For the record, we already know who you are. I know where your friends and family live. I know about that bakery you like to go to once a week. You treat yourself to a specialty donut. They're good."

You wished you had a glass of water to quench your dry throat. "You've been watching me?"

"It's part of my job to know people. Allies. Enemies. We also know you've been living here for some time. Before I get into why exactly we're here, I do have to ask even though I know the answer. Are you aware of what Ransom does?"

Ashamed, you merely nodded as your fingers twisted in your lap.

Steve's gaze was sympathetic as he continued. “Are you also aware that Ransom recently got into some trouble?"

You spared Ransom a quick glance. "What kind of trouble?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively. 

"It does matter," Steve said firmly, leaning forward in his chair. "It matters when your mouth gets one of my men killed."

Your stomach dropped as you took in Steve and Bucky's angry expressions. "You got someone killed?"

"Idiot got himself killed. Not my fault or my problem."

"He was a kid," Steve argued.

It earned him a shrug in response. "You brought the kids in, Rogers. Both of you knew what he was getting into. Don't blame me for his blood being on your hands."

The callousness shocked you, despite what you knew about Ransom. "How can you say that? How can you think so little of people?"

"Oh, it gets better," Bucky said sarcastically before Ransom could answer.

"What do you mean?" you asked nervously. 

"I told you. He got one of my men killed. I took it personally," Steve explained. "I debated between killing him myself or having him sent to jail, but I'm a reasonable guy. I gave him a chance to tell his side of the story. Once he figured out I wasn't going to budge on some sort of retaliation, he offered me something."

You didn't like where this was going. "What exactly did he offer?"

"You."

You were waiting for the punchline. For someone to laugh. There was nothing funny about it as all three men stared at you. Bucky's expression remained the same, but there was sympathy in his eyes. Ransom looked proud of himself. It made you wish you could slap the smirk off his face. But Steve?

Steve's eyes were thoughtful, calculating. He was gauging your response. You almost opened your mouth to tell him you weren't worth the life of the man he lost, but what came out was, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Steve didn't look surprised by your outburst. Maybe he expected it. "Listen, please. I know-"

"No. You listen. I want nothing to do with whatever he did. I am so sorry that one of your men was killed, but please understand that I am not going to be a pawn in whatever this is."

Ransom had the gall to look embarrassed as you stood up. "You don't have a choice. Just let him fuck you and be done with it."

"Yes, I do have a choice. And I'm choosing to leave."

"You're not walking out that door," Ransom said, getting to his feet, too. "Just like you didn't the last time you tried to leave."

Humiliation flooded you as Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Were they judging you? Did they pity you? "I'm going upstairs and getting my bag. I'm not cleaning up your mess. I'm done playing your games, Ransom. I'm done with you."

Ransom's jaw clenched as he marched over and grabbed you by your throat. "You think I give a shit what you want right now? I never did. You were just a fucking toy to keep my dick wet. And I'd let him and his entire fucking crew run a train on you if it keeps me out of jail."

Your eyes teared up as you looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Not at that moment. Did he ever love you?

"Do. You. Understand?"

The hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to show that he could end you. You whimpered, but not because of the pain. It was a different kind of hurt you felt.  The kind of hurt that couldn't be healed by false promises. That was what Ransom was: a false, empty promise.

I should have run the moment you walked into my life.  

"Let her go."

Steve's words were softly spoken in the quiet room, but everyone felt the weight of them.

"Don't tell me what to do with my girl, Rogers."

"Right now, she's MY girl. Get your fucking hands off of her."

Bucky brandished his gun as he stood up, taking aim at Ransom. "He won't ask again. And I'd hate to ruin her pretty dress with your blood."

You almost missed the snarl he let out as he released you, coughing as you rubbed your neck. Your heart leapt as you looked over and caught Steve's gaze. The intensity in his eyes only grew as he began to walk across the room. You felt your breath leave your body again as he got closer. You didn't bother to step back because you were already caught. 

Neither of you spoke a word when he stopped and brought his hands to your face. He cupped your cheeks with a certain kind of tenderness that surprised you as his eyes scanned your neck. A tear finally fell when his brows furrowed with concern. Why would he care when your own boyfriend didn't?

"The fuck are you doing?" Ransom snapped when Steve began to pepper gentle kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes slipped shut, but it wasn't completely out of fear. The feel of his lips should have made you shudder in disgust, but you found yourself craving more. Was it pathetic? You didn't care.

"I told you, she's my girl now," Steve murmured against your skin. "And if I ever see you touch her like that again, I'll tear you apart. Limb from limb."

Ransom's laugh sounded bitter and ugly as you opened your eyes. "You want my sloppy seconds so badly, be my guest. Little slut's probably creaming herself from the attention."

"This whole thing is your fault, Ransom," you reminded him, another bitter tear falling from your eye. The anger whirling inside you couldn't be contained any longer. "So if you're going to offer me up like a slut, the least I can do is enjoy it."

Steve kissed up to the corner of your mouth, smiling. "Enjoy it? Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember he existed. Because every thought of him will be fucked out of you. I can promise you that."

You shivered and dared to glance at Ransom out of the corner of your eye. 

“You really are a fucking slut,” he sneered before Bucky pressed the gun to his temple.

“No one twisted your arm to offer her.”

"I could just let you kill him,” you pointed out to Steve, the last shred of sympathy for Ransom fading as another tear slid down your cheek.

"I'd take you anyway," Steve whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek to take the tear away. "I wanted you the moment I saw you and I'm a very determined man."

You were light on your feet as you brought a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Something to keep you from falling. "I won't be a pawn. If you're going to keep me, actually keep me, prove to me why I shouldn't run."

"I have ways to keep you from running," his voice deepened, a flash of Ransom dragging you to bed filling your mind. "But I'd rather not chase you away to begin with."

“She loves to put up a fight. Helps her sleep at night instead of admitting she’s as fucked up as the rest of us.” 

You weren't sure if it was the disdain in Ransom's voice or the rage in Steve's eyes, but a surge of unexpected power emerged from the bitterness. "What was it you said, Ran? You'd let his men run a train on me if it keeps you out of jail?"

"What are you suggesting, sweetheart?" Steve asked, his gaze curious as he pulled back to regard you. 

"While I don't want that, I want Ransom to watch you fuck me," you spoke, standing a bit straighter as you looked him in the eye. You refused to look weak. "I want him to see you split me open with your cock and make me cry from how good it feels. When you're done, then I'll forget he ever existed."

Bucky chuckled, but you didn't look his way. You didn't dare look away from Steve as his gaze drifted to your lips. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. My wife's gonna love you."

"Done," Steve whispered before his mouth descended on yours.

You didn't fight as his tongue slid past your parted lips. You welcomed his dominance, his control. Oh, he was going to make you become addicted. The dampening in your panties was a sure sign of that. 

"You're fucking stupid if you think I'll watch him fuck her!"

Ransom's voice wasn't enough to break the spell that Steve's kiss had over you. Maybe you were trading one evil for another, but this was the door you willingly walked through. You threw away the key the moment you took Ransom's hand.

Now you'd have a better hand to guide you.

"You'll watch," Bucky promised. "But, punk, my doll might kill me if I have to watch, too. You understand."

The almost lighthearted tone of Steve's friend was enough to stop the kiss, giving you a moment to take a much needed deep breath. "Get Ari over here. He'll make sure he keeps his eyes open."

"You fucking-"

You jumped when Bucky smacked Ransom in the face with his gun, effectively cutting off his next words. The hit made his nose bleed and you took sick pleasure in watching it stain his sweater, his hands flying up to try and stop it. If you were the sacrifice, he had to pay in blood for your offering. 

"Any other conditions or questions?" Steve asked, turning your face back toward him as your now ex's swears and groans were muffled.

"Will you be good to me?” 

“You have my word and I’ll do what I can to make sure you trust me.”

Ransom may have been your worst mistake, but the silver lining was that you'd no longer be in his prison. Your body was a small price to pay to join Steve in a larger, better cage. You could still fly. Maybe you’d give him your heart in time. 

Maybe you could also convince Steve to take Ransom down anyway. For his grandfather, for the kid, for you. For every person he hurt.

You won't die, Ransom, but you'll pay. Everyone has to pay for their sins eventually.

“Then we should get started," you stated, sealing your fate.

"Call Ari. Now," Steve ordered Bucky, looking at Ransom with an unsympathetic smile. “You heard her. Let’s get started.”

*****

Hope to share more soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

[impishjesters]

Little Thoughts

warning(s): suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideations, child neglect, child abuse, suicidal thoughts of a child, abuse, financial abuse, hurt/comfort(?), mentioned manipulation, casual talk about death/dying, pre-relationship, uncertain reactions (basically Jax nor you really know how to go about the situation), implied crush (both ways) A/N: This was written for myself, read it or don't, I don't care. I just wanted validation and acceptance from somewhere, even if it's fictional...

“Do you ever just wish you were dead?”

Jax slowed his oncoming approach towards you, blinking in confusion. “What happened to, hi? Hello? How are you?” He heard you scoff and crossed his arms loosely in thought. Sure, he was used to hearing some pretty questionable things from you, but you’d never flat out ask him—or anyone else for that matter—if they wanted to be dead.

“Well?”

“Uh, can’t say I do. Sure, this place sucks but think of all the entertainment I’d miss out on if I was, ya know—” he swiped his thumb across his neck and made a noise, “—dead.”

“You’ve been here longer. Aren’t you tired?”

What was this? Morbid fifty questions?

“You doin’ alright there sugar?” Jax circled around you, allowing you to see him long before he approached you taking a seat beside you. “I know you usually say some pretty…intense shit, but this is a little too intense even for you.”

You shot him a blank stare. Huh, you did say some pretty out-of-pocket stuff when it came to the dark subject—but to ask him flat out if he ever wanted to just be dead? That was new, but it was a valid question in your mind.

How could they choose to suffer instead of just dying?

“This isn’t anything new… I’m not like you guys. I haven’t been here for years on end gradually going mad.”

“Hey, rude. I’m not nearly as bonkers as Rags or King-face.”

He got a playful eye roll from you and that was more than enough of a win for his little joke. Sure it was a serious topic but he didn’t do so well during talks like this.

“I’ve always been like this… for as long as I can remember, as a child I thought it’d just be better if I was dead. That way my family could stop fighting, and I could stop being the rag doll in their arguments.”

As you spoke the grin that was glued to his face started to fall, slipping bit by bit until his lips ran flat. What child wants to kill themselves? He remembers his childhood not being the greatest but he never thought about death, that’s for sure.

“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, they’d spend it on unnecessary stuff and worry about food and bills later until years of it caught up and put them in a bind.” Your gaze fell to your hands, fingers picking and peeling at the flesh. “Most would say I was a very spoiled kid, I always got toys and the holidays were jam-packed with even more unnecessary toys for a growing child to outgrow.”

He had a feeling he knew where this was going…

“But I didn’t want that, I didn’t want all those toys. Expensive or cheap, I never asked for any of them. If my eyes made contact with something and lingered just a second too long they’d buy it for me.” You sighed, looking up at Jax. “All I wanted was my family to give me the time of day, to play with me. To love me.”

“Fuck, I’m..” he hesitated, saying sorry felt pointless, that was ages ago and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at fault but he couldn’t even imagine that—his own parents argued but they kept him out of it.

“It’s fine you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

He shuffled in place awkwardly, how are you supposed to respond to that? Luckily he doesn’t need to because you are already looking away and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It never got better, toys became electronics and games. Because of my family, I didn’t get to socialize growing up and I’d be quiet and withdrawn at school. The older I got the more vocal they started to get about me, even though they didn’t want me they kept me chained down and limited my ability to fight them.”

“What they lock ya up or somethin’?”

“They didn’t need to, I had no reason to leave the house. I didn’t have friends, we didn’t have stores or anything fun to do that wasn’t an hour’s drive away.” He hates the way you laugh so casually about it. “No, they’d limit any money I’d receive making sure I’d spend it instead of save it. I used to think it was their way of trying to make sure I wouldn’t run away, but even if I didn’t have savings that wouldn’t have stopped me from leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“Why didn’t ya?”

“I was a coward.”

Jax snorted and caught your attention. “You were a child, not a coward.”

“Whatever, pointless to think about it now. Did me fat lotta good in the end anyways, here I am trapped in this hell hole where the closest thing to death is abstracting.” A dry laugh left you at the irony. “I can’t even fucking off myself properly.”

The two of you simply sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you seemingly aware of how to continue the conversation. There was no reason to give Jax the whole sob story that didn’t matter anyway, and he couldn’t think of a response.

Sure he wasn’t the greatest at times but he didn’t want you to just…die… but he wasn’t going to try and guilt trip you into living for him. Even if that outcome sounded far better than you dying, he could live with a guilty conscience—probably…

“You don’t have to worry about responding, I sort of just… dropped that all on you. It’s fine, it’s the past.”

“Still doesn’t change that ya still feel like ya should’ve died because your family sucks.” You shot him an unimpressed look and he shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, you were just a kid stuck with a shit family and should’ve been given help a lot sooner.”

“Gee, thanks—”

“I’m not done,” he used your name, no silly or insulting nicknames, “someone should’ve done something, I know people are stupid and think if they just look away it’ll be fine. But someone should’ve stepped in, it’s still abuse, it’s neglect.”

It went unspoken about how you clearly didn’t seek any form of therapy or help as you got older, he already felt like he was pushing it saying what he did.

“Look nothing I say is gonna make ya not wanna pop yourself, but it’s different now. Yeah, ya stuck here but you aren’t alone, and the others like ya.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” he blinked, you weren’t asking him if he…

“Do you like me?”

Jax coughed into his hand, casually turning himself to face the same direction as you. He refused to budge even when you turned yourself to face him, he was not gonna lose his cool.

“Ya alright, better than King-face and Rags that’s for sure.”

His answer pleased you enough to pull back but still face towards him. Occasionally, you’d see him peeking over to see if you were still looking at him until he finally kept his gaze forward.

“Thank you Jax.”

It felt wrong to accept your thanks, he didn’t do anything. But again you responded for him, as if knowing his plight.

“Thank you for sitting here with me, and listening… nobody’s ever listened to me before and not tried to justify what they did like I was the one at fault. You don’t need to feel like you have to have done something to be thanked.”

His shoulders shrugged before relaxing, his gaze that had glued itself to nothing finally turning to you. “Look just, promise me if you get those icky thoughts again you’ll come to me instead of stewing in them okay?” He saw you hesitate and cautiously reached out for your hand. “Promise me.”

You sighed. “Fine, I promise…” Ironically, you didn’t think you could trust anyone but Jax with this sort of information. Personal feelings aside.

“Good, now shut ya face and enjoy my presence and this beautiful moonlight night.” He threw his arm around you and pulled you closer, hand lingering at your side. He was going to make sure not to take advantage of this information, he wanted things to be genuine and not manipulated—as easy as it would be for him.

If the two of you were stuck here he wanted your feelings towards him, and vice versa to be genuine before taking the next step.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

[lovingmayday]

STREET RACER! HOBIE BROWN x READER

warnings : illegal street racing, cursing, suggestive – slight nsfw?

notes : im obssessed with racer aus so i thought why not write one with a character im absolutely obssessed with as well

part 1 ☆ part 2

ok so heheehhehehe, street racer hobie is the absolutely coolest and chillest man ever!! idk shit about cars but i watched the fast furious series

imagine him in a dirty tank top and baggy pants with a jumper tied around his tiny waist !!!!!!! you'd just be unabashedly staring at him while he's working on his car.

he slides with his back on his skateboard to view the underside of his car and, from your view, you see his tank rising to show his midriff. you better expect him with a large smirk on his face when he catches you.

street racer hobie probably has an older vintage model. he stripped it from its original engine and built it from top to bottom. he probably stole the lot of them too.

he was already doing something illegal anyway, he reasons.

he also definitely customizes his car like duh. full on spikes on the wheels, grafitti on the doors, stickers on the bumper, everything! he prolly won't mind scratches either and leaves a few of them in view. thinks they're baddass.

street racer hobie can't for the life of him give his car one name. it's got to be different everytime. bessie, marcus, mona, ev, billie jean, annabel, etc.

street racer hobie just doesn't care if anyone plays dirty. you gotta do what you gotta do. but you would be INSANE if you think he wouldn't reciprocate that tenfold. he's an adrenaline junkie and would love the thrill of it.

street racer hobie is pretty friendly and chill to his fellow racers otherwise. he'd hype up his friends a lot.

i wasn't super sure if he would gamble tbh. the money wouldn't going to greedy capitalistic pigs so maybe he would.

street racer hobie wouldn't care if they raised betting prices. if he didn't have the money for it, he'd simply back out. would absolutely never bet you or the pink slip to his car. he can find that kind of thrill somewhere else anyways wink wink.

street racer hobie definitely shows you off. he always brings you to his races. he thinks you are good luck and it works (most of the time), but even if it didn't he'd still bring you to show off how amazing he is

street racer hobie would never tolerate any disrespect directed towards you. he'd run them over w his car if you'd let him.

street racer hobie makes out w you when waiting for races to start. against his car? he doesn't care. inside? he doesn't care. everyone can see you? he doesn't care. he wouldn't care even if he was fucking you on the hood of his car in public. but he would if it bothered you, of course <3 he'd find an alley to park his car in and have you there

speaking of, don't forget to give him his reward after~ whether he won or not, he'd still wait for his consolation prize

#atsv hobie #hobie #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie spiderverse #spider punk x reader #spider punk #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown atsv #atsv #hobart brown