cherrizbakery

endless possibilities, endless fun🍒

[cherrizbakery]

Cherri - 18 - she/they - queer

Open 24/7, requests are open!

my masterlist ♡

about the chef (more about me)

request guidelines and rules

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[loversagile]

you guys don't understand how bad i need joe in a fifty shades of grey type of role where he's a hardass CEO hard ass and when you come in for an interview everyone's muttering 'good luck' and shit like that and yeah during your interview as his receptionist you're terrified and shaking with nerves. but you get the job and one evening you're both leaving super after hours and he stops you from being almost mugged in the parking lot. then he starts being everywhere coincidentally.

come to find out he's on some YOU type of shit. he's been stalking you this entire time. he didn't even have anymore interviews lined up for the role. only yours. actually hacked into your computer to have the job only show to you in some way (he's a billionaire they could do that probably). you only find out because you were putting something on his desk after you left and got nosey, snooping through drawers rightfully so. Snooping specifically through a legal folder with your name on it. thinking it was only your onboarding papers and resume maybe. but it's surviellance pictures of your home. your parents background and history. yearbook pictures of you.

anyways, i need that-

[cherrizbakery]

wait this is lowkey fire

[evans-heaven]

Someone take me back to 2019 when I saw Robin Buckley for the first time and suddenly, everything made sense.

[owltuah]

Me when I’m sad but my milf coworker has her arm wrapped around my shoulder so things are chill for a second

[yawnzshit]

I NEED HIM SO SO BAD. HE'S A NEED.

[cherrizbakery]

guys i promise im still here i just genuinely don't know what to write 💔💔 also in the middle of customizing my blog so stay tuned and thank you to the people that are staying with me 😭🫩

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!!!!!!

[thepittmemes]

There’s something yuri going on in this hospital

[gcx23]

That's his daughter. I won't be convinced otherwise.

[vaddawf]

Sorry I’m not active at all here

[ballard96]

[lalaleeiillaa]

“yeah i read a lot!”

“oh awesome! What books do you read?”

[arimari81-70]

How it feels logging onto Tumblr to read fics after joining a new fandom

[cherrizbakery]

me with mark grayson/invincible and the whole dc universe 😝

[arimari81-70]

How it feels logging onto Tumblr to read fics after joining a new fandom

[cherrizbakery]

started watching invincible and fuckkkk man, mark grayson you insufferably fine ass man it's stupid how fine he is

[cherrizbakery]

thx for 30 followers 🍒

love you nerds endlessly

[cherrizbakery]

hiya! saw ur travis fic and 🫦

wanted to request a fic for him, he catches reader touching herself in the shower, but he's too shy to hop in and help out bc they haven't gone all the way yet, so he just sits on the bed

and when she comes out he's just sitting there, blushing and flustered asf 😭

Shower Thoughts

In which Travis walks in on a "private" moment after getting off work. <3

a/n: this is so travis coded 😭 thank you for requesting this, anon! requests are open for all!

warnings: travis peeping on you, fem!masturbation, he's a horny doofus in love, leave him alone

wc: 1.2k

When Travis steps out of his car at an ungodly hour of the morning, he knows you're awake. The porch light of your tiny house, just bought a couple of months ago under the promise that you'd go half and half on the rent, had been left on for him. He smiled gently at the sight, but he quickly thinks that it's stupid to be getting oddly sentimental over something so small. 

“It's just a fuckin’ light,” He mutters under his breath, running a hand down his face. 

Travis likes—no. Travis loves you; he's pretty damn sure of the fact. You, you of all people, he thinks, chose to be his. It still baffles him to this day how someone as amazing as you is with him. He didn't always think too much of himself, always taking up space and doing what others asked of him without a single thought.

He’s working on it, though. Not just for you, but for himself. (you made him pinky promise).

He quickly shuts his car door and shoves his keys in his left jeans pocket as he makes his way to the front door. Fumbling with the keys, muttering a few curses before he succeeds at opening the door.

“Hey, pretty lady—”

Travis’s greeting dies short when his gaze falls on the black couch in the living room, where you're usually sitting when he gets off work. You're not there? Why not? 

Travis’ mind immediately jumps to conclusions; he can't help himself. Were you angry at him? Did he do something? Forget something? Oh, god, he totally forgot to put the fuckin’ toilet seat down again—

His scrambled mind immediately turns into white noise as another sound accompanies his thoughts. The steady fall of shower water hitting the tiles, coming from the creaked-open bathroom door just right down the hall.

You're in the shower.

Travis lets one small chuckle escape his lips, unsure if he's laughing at himself or relieved that you're doing something as mundane as showering. He almost thinks of joining you, but the thought leaves just as fast as it came.

You two weren't that far yet, even if you two had been living together for a couple of months now. It wasn't because Travis didn't want you; it's never about that. Or the fact that he's never actually been sober whilst hooking up with a girl, no.

It's because he cares about you, and he wants to take things slow. He'd suggested the idea over dinner, a date night around a year ago. 

“You're really fuckin' beautiful, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, which you won't, I hope you won't. But, uh, I don't wanna have sex with you. Wait—fuck—that came out wrong. I don't mean ever, I just—”

You had cut him off with a short and quick kiss to his cheek. “I understand, Travis, don't worry about it. We can take things slow.” You'd said, and you used his real name. Not the stupid nickname he was given because of an even stupider situation. His actual name. Travis wanted to say I love you right then and there.

However, you'd both decided to take things slow. Which is why he's not about to invade your privacy. 

Even if his dick twitches at the thought of you, your gorgeous naked body lavished in bubbles as you’d lather your favorite body wash over the expanse of your boobs. The washrag you’d use, slowly trailing down your stomach as your head tilts back to allow your hair to sit under the stream of water that’s trickling down your thighs. 

Travis blinks—once, that familiar heat building in his gut as dirty thoughts after even dirtier ones flash through his mind like a movie he never wants to stop watching. He perks up, like a damn dog, when he hears you from the bathroom. 

A soft sound, something sweet and relaxed. Maybe you’re out of the bathroom now, he thinks, so he carefully walks over. His steps are soft because he doesn’t want to disturb you, but once he peeks his head in the steamy room? 

Travis didn’t think he could any harder, but here he was. 

There you were. 

Leaning against the white shower tiles with your back arched. Breasts dripping in the shower’s stream, droplets dropping from your nipples and onto the floor beneath you. Your head’s tilted back in pure pleasure, and your perfect, pretty lips are parted. Travis’s gaze flickers from one part of your body to another as he simply admires you, and not just what you’re doing. Even if that’s…pretty fucking hot too. 

Your middle and ring fingers steadily rub at your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with a certain type of gentleness he wants to learn to do himself. The way your fingers move so fluidly leaves Travis absolutely breathless. Is that what makes you feel good, or are you just now starting? God, have you been touching yourself this whole time? Questions race through Travis’s already frantic mind, but suddenly? He can’t find it within himself to speak—not right now. He won’t dare interrupt this angelic sight in front of him. 

He watches as your foot slightly lifts and your toes curl—you’re close, aren’t you? Fingers rubbing faster, moans breathier, and a crease between your eyebrows has formed like you’re concentrating on a goal. He’s seen that look on your face before. How focused you get when you’re reading a recipe on your phone, or when he starts rambling about something completely random, and you’re trying to understand him. God—he wants to leave that look on your face himself, and not just from his own talking. He’ll put his mouth to good use. 

Travis imagines himself in between your legs in that shower, your glistening leg hitched over his shoulder, and his face buried in between your legs. He bets his tongue would feel so much better than your own fingers, swirling and prodding at your soaking cunt with adamant eagerness. He’s not entirely sure if he’d be any good down there, but he’s a fast learner. 

The whine that escapes Travis’ lips as he watches you come is borderline pathetic. Your mouth falls open in a gasp as your hips start shifting and shaking against your soaked fingers, and he can’t hear you with the shower on the highest setting, but he makes out one word that escapes your lips when you come all over your fingers. 

“Travis!” 

Fucking hell. 

He immediately leaves and ushers off to your bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. Holy shit. Glancing down at his pants, he winces at the bulge that has formed just by looking at you. He’s whipped. So, utterly whipped for you. 

Travis is about to shove his hand down his pants and get himself off with his name on your lips fluttering around in his head, but he hears the shower turn off. He flings himself up and against the pillows, trying to make it seem like he’s been lying there for ages…like he didn’t just watch you masturbate in the shower you both use. 

“Hey, T.” You hum, strolling in with a towel wrapped tight around your body as you use another one to wring out your hair. 

“Hey.” Travis rasps out, clearing his throat and leaning up in an attempt to hide his raging boner. 

“How was work? The shower’s free if you need it.” You hum, collapsing next to him on the bed, and he nearly whines.

You’re fucking unreal.

[loverhymeswith]

Can I please request "Being cute cannot save you from everything." with Rick Flag? Thank you!

You Can Leave Your Hat On | Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: Strip poker with the Colonel.

Warnings: Drinking, nudity, allusions to smut

Word count: 2,226 words

A/N: Thank you to the amazing @a-reader-and-a-writer, not only for the prompt above, but for your whole idea around Rick and strip poker after we spoke the other night. Also, I know almost nothing at all about poker, so thank you for contributing your knowledge and some of the lines. I couldn't have done this without you, so this is dedicated to you, Vee! <3

Joel Taglist: @weallhaveadestiny @a-reader-and-a-writer @11thstreetvigilante @skvatnavle @christinasyellowflowers @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @fairchildflag @bewitchedignition @lavenderluna10

“I’m not doing it,” you tell Rick resolutely before knocking back another shot of tequila and cringing at the bitter aftertaste.

The mission was a colossal disaster, which increasingly seems to be the case of late. No one died - a fact that you for one are taking as a win – but thanks to a series of stupid mistakes, the team’s cover was compromised, and the target fled. Waller is going to be pissed, to say the least.

“You do know you’re s’posed to do whatever I tell ya?” Rick smirks across at you and grabs the bottle for himself. “I could pull rank.”

“Really?” You arch an eyebrow. He hasn’t pulled rank once since you joined the task force. A fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by anyone on the squad, not even Boomer. “Surely I’ve earned a free pass?" You gesture around the room, referring, of course, to the not-entirely-accidental misunderstanding that saw the two of you being left behind while the rest of the squad were safely on their way back to Belle Reve.

When Rick’s eyes simply narrow in response, you bat your lashes and grin. He knows full well that you make a fair point. He wasn’t exactly devasted about the last-minute change of plans that forced him into sharing the last room at the motel with you.

He huffs out a sigh at your attempt to sway him. "Being cute cannot save you from everything, darlin’.”

“Whatever you say, Colonel. I’m still not doing it.”

The pair of you have been bickering for the last hour about who will be presenting the debriefing report to Waller when you finally make it back to Louisiana. Given the resounding failure of the mission, it’s a task that neither of you are keen to take ownership of.

“Waller has a soft spot for you,” he insists, pouring out two more generous shots. “She’ll go easy on you.”

“Get real, Rick,” you snort loudly. “Waller doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone – or anything, for that matter. At least she takes you more seriously than me. Just. That’s why you should do it.”

He shakes his head. “Darlin’, I am one mistake away from havin’ my ass handed to me. Don’t you wanna do me this tiny little favour?” It’s his turn to ramp up the charm, that devilishly handsome face cracking into a disarming smile.

“You can dial down the charm, Flag,” you wag your finger at him. “That’s not gonna work on me.”

His broad shoulders slump, defeated. “Someone’s gotta do the damn debrief.”

He’s right. The sooner you get the decision over and done with, the sooner you can enjoy this rare amount of down time. You glance around the room for inspiration, until your eyes land on a pack of playing cards lying forgotten on one of the bedside tables. A sudden burst of excitement fills your chest. “What about a wager?”

Rick eyes you suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

You push back your chair and move to grab the pack, placing it on the small wooden table between the two of you. “How about a card game? Loser does the presentation.”

He considers this for a moment, his eyes darting between you and the cards. “What can you play?”

You bite your lip, pretending to think about it. “I mean, I play poker some?”

Rick leans back in his seat, a smile tugging at his lips. “Alright. Poker it is.”

“Great.” You pick up your shot glass and clink it against his before the pair of you knock back the vile liquid in unison. Ignoring the flutter in your chest as you watch Rick’s face scrunch up in distaste, you push the deck towards him, indicating that he should shuffle and deal.

His thick fingers make surprisingly short work of the task and as he eyes you over his hand, a mischievous sparkle appears in his hazel gaze. “What do you say we make this a little more interestin’?”

Now it’s your turn to eye him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I was thinkin’… strip poker?”

You quickly temper down the rush of excitement that floods your veins at his suggestion. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Rick.” You throw him your best attempt at an uncertain look.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He grins. “Could be fun?”

Yes, you think. It certainly could be.

“Though you do have an unfair advantage.” He gestures towards your person. In addition to the same t-shirt, watch, tac pants, belt, underwear and boots that Rick is currently wearing, you also have on your bra and a jacket.

Shrugging off the outer later, you rise to your feet. “I’m sure we can fix that.”

You’ve already noticed an eclectic mix of items left behind in the motel room, so you’re confident you can find an additional item of clothing for Rick to wear. Sure enough, after a couple of moments of rooting through the drawers and cupboards, you produce a worn, old leather cowboy hat. It’s perfect.

When Rick sees you returning with the headgear in hand, he pulls a face. “No way. I ain’t puttin’ that thing on.”

Ignoring his protests, you place it on his head firmly. “It’s either the hat, or you’re one item short. Besides,” you step back to scrutinise him. “I think it kind of suits you.”

From under the large brim, Rick pouts. But he doesn’t remove the hat. If your phone hadn’t been damaged during the earlier getaway you would absolutely have snapped a photo. Not that it matters; you’ll never be able to get the image out of your head.

Several shots and hands later, it becomes evident that the Colonel does not have nearly as good a poker face as he so clearly thought when he raised the stakes. Either that, or the tequila is to blame. Because while you are down a pair of boots and your watch, Rick has already lost the same items, plus his belt and most recently, his shirt. Of course, he’d wanted to remove the hat first, but after your insistence that he leave it on - repeatedly assuring him that it looks good - he relented.

“Kinda get the feelin’ you might have been under playin’ your abilities, darlin’,” he grumbles, throwing his shirt onto the bed.

“I said I played ‘some’. I didn’t specify how much.” You smile sweetly, trying and failing to keep your eyes on his face rather than the solid expanse of tanned muscled chest. His half naked body is right in your eyeline and while it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, the liquor has loosened your inhibitions. “You’re the one who was so keen to make this strip poker.”

As you lay down yet another full house, Rick pours himself another shot, mumbling something that sounds a lot like “devious” under his breath. You bite back a smirk.

In the interest of keeping the game going a while longer, you lose the next hand on purpose. Rick leans back in his seat, eyes zeroing in on you with laser focus as you skip the belt and strip out of your own t-shirt instead. His raised brow is the only sign he is surprised by your bold manoeuvre, but you don’t fail to notice the way his gaze subtly trails across your chest, the swell of you breasts just visible over the cups of your bra.

“You alright there, Flag?” you smirk.

Choosing not to answer, he takes another shot instead, leaving you to deal.

When Rick has been staring at his cards intently for a few minutes, you cross your arms. “Want to fold, Colonel?” Truthfully, it doesn’t matter what cards he holds. You know full well that this hand will see Rick being forced to lose his pants. The initial wager over the briefing seems insignificant in comparison to the possibility of seeing your commanding officer naked and you are thrilled about it.

“Fuck it, I got nothin',” he grumbles, throwing his cards face-down onto the table.

You smile smugly as you flip over your own cards.

It’s your turn to sit back and watch with a thumping heart as Rick stands and unfastens the buttons and zipper of his tac pants, before sliding them off over his thick tanned thighs. You press your own legs together, fighting to ignore the heat that flares at your centre at the sight of so much bare flesh, not to mention the considerable bulge concealed by his form fitting underwear. It’s no small mercy when he finally returns to his seat.

You reach for the bottle and pour yourself another shot. For courage, you tell yourself. It’s not that you’re worried about losing. What’s really getting you hot and bothered is thinking about what’s going to happen when you win.

From over the rim of your shot glass, you catch Rick staring at you again. “What?” you demand, as he begins dealing the next hand.

He frowns, surveying your face with thinly veiled suspicion. “You’re hustlin’ me, aren’t ya?”

“Would I?” You flutter your lashes again, although it’s fairly obvious to the both of you that the ruse is over. There’s no denying the fact that you are wiping the floor with him. Any thoughts about going easy on him have long since been burned away by the desire to discover just what exactly he’s hiding under all that tac gear. And you are so close to finding out.

He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. You try not to focus on his tattoos, or the way his biceps flex as he leans forwards. “C’mon. Enlighten me. How’s a girl like you become such a pro at poker? You got some secret life I should know about?”

“You mean more secret than Task Force X?”

“Fair point,” he concedes, rolling his eyes. “But y’know what I mean.”

You shrug, running a finger along an indent in the wooden table in your best attempt to appear innocent. “My uncle was semi-pro. Taught me everything he knows.”

Rick slams his hand down on the table. “Fuckin’ knew it.” He shakes his head, still grinning despite the outrage. “Knew somethin’ fishy was goin’ on. I never lose at poker.”

You can’t help but scoff at the comment. “Who the hell were you playing against? Blackguard? I hate to break it to you Flag, but you suck. I can read your face like a book. Anyone would think you wanted to lose...”

For the second time this evening, Rick doesn’t answer you. Instead, he throws down his next hand with a resigned expression.

“Another two-pair?” You give him a sympathetic smile as you prepare to turn over your own cards. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you now. Everything is still fair game.” You lay down your cards on the table with a triumphant flourish and watch as Rick reads them. A royal flush. “It’s a shame,” you add sombrely. “I really, really like the hat.”

Despite your fighting talk, the mischievous glimmer returns to his eyes and a new kind of tension fills the room. “Trust me darlin’, nothin’ about this is fair.”

Rick stands up again, that same disarming smile from earlier spreading across his handsome face. It takes a moment for you to fully register what’s happening, but your eyes quickly widen, and your mouth hangs open when his hands don’t reach for the hat, but for the waistband of his underwear instead.

“Rick-” you gasp, but it’s too late, he’s already bending down, stripping.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” He asks as he straightens again, shooting you a heated gaze. “Don’t like what you see?”

You shake your head, temporarily lost for words even as you find yourself rising out of your chair, not entirely of your own accord. Trying and failing to keep your eyes on his face, rather than what lies below his waist, you freeze as he rounds the table and approaches you.

Rick, now entirely naked except for the cowboy hat, slips his hands around your own bare waist and pulls you firmly against his hard body. Your hands fly to his chest, steadying yourself against the scorching wall of muscle. Before either of you can come up with another quip, or before you can question just what he’s intending to do, his mouth is crashing against yours, devouring you with a hungry kiss.

When he pulls away, he’s looking at you in that same, silent, searching way that he does out in the field. The subtle assessment, hazel eyes flickering over your body, making sure you’re ok without either of you having to voice your concerns aloud. And just like out in the field, you give him the briefest hint of a nod. All good here, Colonel.

Rick kisses you again, starting to guide you away from the table and backwards towards the bed. When he finally reaches up to remove the hat, you stop him with your hand around his arm. "I don’t think so, Colonel. We never finished the game. The hat stays on.” He cocks an eyebrow, but you continue. “Besides, we still haven’t decided on who has to do the briefing."

“Maybe we need a rematch,” he murmurs with the hint of a smirk. “Different game, though.”

“What did you have in mind?”