#not gonna be out here throwing money at a skin like that

[jjscrybaby]

could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

[altarfates]

everytime riot releases a new 250 dollar skin it’s like theyre going woah guys it’s only three hundred ish dollars it’s not that much 🥺🫶🫶

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up Masterlist / Stripclub Owner Sukuna headcanons

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and eventually violence, some former trauma of reader.

WC so far- 20k

Headcanons/story preview below!

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Soooo this is a tease of a full fic- Pour it up

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy - also taggingggg- @naammiii @msniks @1worm1 <3

[yeyinde]

stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.

the message comes up halfway into your "show."

it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pink—cliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyes—and discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.

but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party games—hide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.

tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.

but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.

Simon says... go lock your door.

you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.

you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."

another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.

your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move on—"

Simon says... open your door.

he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.

it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you off—"

you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.

the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want to—

creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your way—

Simon says... let me in.

you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonder—hopefully—if maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.

your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched

no. it's fine. you're fine—

"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.

your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the door—

you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried inside—

back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.

you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.

there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i just—"

something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.

what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.

the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on it—

another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?

there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunks—

a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.

"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for help—

your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, but—

(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were me—)

this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking police—

but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.

you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietly—

"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:

"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little reward—"

[burdenandacrop]

˗ˏˋ ❝ italian leather sofa. ❞ ˎˊ˗

thank u to the wonderful @thecourtjester-e for being the reason this is being written, ur MIIIIND. this goes hand in hand with my cake AND schlatt obsession so ... does a twirl.

HEAVILY based on the song italian leather sofa by CAKE !

summary : for a schlatt & co video, your [ secret ] boyfriend decides to take you out shopping. showing off his douche-bag internet persona, unbeknownst to him; that was actually quite the turn on. with a little fashion show back at home, he shows you just how hungry he's been.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, secret relationship, schlatt is mean in this one, you're also decently famous!, dabbles in a bit of spoiling, power difference k!nk, degrading mixed with some praising, rough smut.

the bright luminescent lights were beaming across the designer store, your hands gently trailing through the racks of numerous dresses. you weren't used to this sort of environment, but it was very quickly becoming second nature to you. to the internet's eye, you were schlatt's acquaintance who was mostly just known for your face. the running joke was that you were his personal thumbnail over-user, considering every video the two of you did got millions of views. almost the amount that his reaction videos got, and this was on his second channel. surprisingly, not a whole lot of people suspected you to be a pair. rather just an unconventional duo, which kind of worked on your end.

he brought the camera back up to your face, making you smile and droop your shoulders with a grin. "these good enough for you miss socialite?" schlatt sneers out, you wished the viewers could see just how cocky he looked in the moment. "brought her here to the most expensive mall in new york, nothing too smancy." he adds on, turning the camera to his face to wink and smile, "cause you know, i can afford that." god he was so insufferable, in a good way surprisingly. he brings the camera back to you, anticipating for you to say something. "i just need a dress for my event." you snicker out, rolling your eyes and searching the racks yet again.

"and of course you had to come here for it, didn't ya?" he teases, you just shake your head and continue to search the racks. eventually pulling out a red silk dress. schlatt was hoping to god the microphone wouldn't pick up how his breath hitched when he saw it. his mind already reeling on how it'd look on you. "this one?" you ask, looking at the camera with a smile. shaking the hanger and awaiting for schlatt to do anything but gawk. a part of you almost wanting to turn the camera right around just to show the viewers how down bad he was. "yeah get the red, brings out your rosacea real nice." he bites back with a chuckle.

you scoff at him and rub your cheek, worried that it was visible to the camera how aggravated your skin might've been. "yeah, get a purple tux to match your eyebags, dickhead." you groan out, hoping to one up him. you knew the viewers loved the bickering, especially with your one liners. "i'll get a ralph lauren one and call it a day, can't say you can do that." he replies with a smile, he knew you had your own money but he liked to occasionally throw in that he was a smidge more successful.

"yeah i can't wear a tux, no shit schlatt." you roll your eyes and stow the dress back on the rack. almost sending him into a panic, "editor, cut this." he stammers before leaning the camera down for a moment. "keep it, i'm buying it." he practically chokes out. your head whipping back to him with a smile, nodding and stowing the dress in between your arm. you secretly loved how he insisted on things like that, was kind of hot in a way.

he sighs in relief and brings the camera back up with a smile, going right back to his persona. "gonna buy anymore or are you too low on cash for it?" he stated, knowing damn well he'd be leaving this store with a dent in his wallet. "i'll have to look and see." you sigh out, looking to him for a moment before looking back to the racks. "you're no sydney sweeney but i'm sure it'll suffice." he stifles out, making you side eye him as you were just about to pull out another dress.

"and you're not hugh jackman with those chops." you say as you roll your eyes, pulling out another silk dress, except it was black. "now what about this one?" you state as if you didn't just plain insult him, the both of you knew it was just for viewer attention. "it looks like people will only be looking at the dress, saves the trouble of looking at your face." he snickers out, you look at him with a groan. suddenly seeing his lips mouth the words 'keep it. that one too.' it was so hilarious to see the switch, you just wished the rest could see, but of course, they couldn't. "you're truly such a gentleman, mommy must be so proud." you gruffly reply, making him shrug with a smug grin. "that she is." he measly replies.

"see what i put up with for clicks? she's so ungrateful." he adds on, rotating the camera back to his face with a sigh. you shake your head as you eye another dress, the royal blue was catching your eye. "and it seems miss socialite has found yet another dress that's gonna bankrupt her." schlatt chuckles out, panning the camera back over to you as you show off the dress with a smile. "isn't the color so nice?" you ask with the same cavity inducing smile, knowing it'd probably be clipped all over twitter. whatever, as long as it brought money with it. which is almost always did. you watched as schlatt sweetly grinned with a nod, hidden from the view of the lens. "how much is it again?" he says as he reaches for the dress to hang his fingers to the tag.

his eyes widening as he realized it was a $3000 dress, looking back up to you with a grin. he zoomed the lens into the tag, then slowly panned the camera back to his face. his eyes bugging out with his brows furrowed in a comical look, quickly dropping it for a more serious expression, "i spend that in an hour, anyways." he deadpans, making you scoff at him and turn yourself away from him. he looks up from the camera to see your irritated stature and belts out a low laughter, turning the camera right back to you. zooming right into your head, picking up how your head was shaking as you continued to browse the racks. "somebody's sour about that fact." schlatt teases, making you spin your head back to him with narrowed eyes. he was so unserious.

"what's this- event even about anyhow?" he honeyed, at least the question wasn't half bad. you leaned against the rack, twirling the hanger as you thought of how to answer. "it's for this upcoming body-care line, very prestigious." you reply with a grin, feeling a bit prideful that you did get invited to something like that anyhow. "they just don't invite majorly successful people to advertise their products, got it." he pokes, making you nudge his shoulder with a groan. the comments from him were never ending; but so was a lot of other things. "what? you don't think i can be a good representative of smelly goods?" he snickers out, drooping his shoulders at you with a slight pout. "yeah, you totally could." your tone couldn't be any more sarcastic.

he softly pumped a fist in the air and panned the camera back to him, "that's what i thought." he stated, looking back to you with a knowing smile. the little look giving you a good idea of how his ego was far from being bruised. "now if she could go through with this faster- i can get my watch." he sighs out, shaking his head at you as you continued to scroll through the racks. "this is the kind of greed that they talk about in the bible." he adds on, earning a little chuckle from you. his switch off button was no where to be found.

"a lot of talk coming from you, y'know?" you breathily reply, the weight of the dresses getting to you as they restlessly laid on your arm. "i'm allowed to talk." he snapped back, he noticed how the weight of the dresses were getting you as you bobbed your arm up and down to try and balance it. "look, now she's getting all tired. see what internet notoriety does?" he jokes, turning the camera back to your state. "tell that to a mirror." you reply with a chuckle, making him nod. "oh i do, every damn day baby." his tone was unbelievably cocky. though, another part of you was asking; why were you really liking it? now what did that say about YOU?

the camera had already been recording for a good thirty minutes, he followed you around for a short bit more. getting all the funny banter that he would need for the video, he already knew they would eat it up. it was you after all, you were basically an infinite money glitch. yeah, he was mean as shit to you on camera. he just didn't want people to interfere with your relationship, especially when the cameras were gone. he knew if his viewers, particularly his male viewers, knew he bagged such a beautiful girl. he'd never hear the rest of it on twitter, so it seemed it was the smarter decision. plus, what man likes to share? especially not him.

he stowed away his camera with a smile, immediately gripping his hand around your waist as the two of you reached the check-out line. "you're out of your mind if you think you're wearing any of those to that promo event." he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you had a good five dresses in your arms, all together probably the amount that most people pay for a down payment on a bentley. "the black one's my favorite though." you whine out quietly, looking up into his eyes with a smile. "why do you think i don't want you wearing it out then?" he replies, his hands wandering up your back slowly. "just wear the blue one, cmon baby." he pleads. making you sigh and oblige to his request.

you knew exactly why he didn't want you wearing the black one, based on how you saw it was sewn. it'd look damn near painted on your figure, the blue one on the other hand was a lot more 'leave it up to your imagination' sort of deal. the two of you eventually made it up to the cashier, placing your dresses down as he checked the quality and the tag. "find everything to your expectations today, miss?" the cashier says as he begins to scan everything, his eyes a bit narrowed as he noticed the amount that was racking up. you fiddled your hands together in front of you, nodding to the cashier with a soft grin. "everything is to par." you felt so pretentious saying that, but you deserved it in a way.

you watched as the cashier raised his eyebrows to your reply, smiling to himself as he continued to scan the tags. his eyes almost lighting all the way up as the price continued to raise. you saw how his eyes wandered back to you, eyeing how your blouse sat on you. maybe a little too hard too, with a smile plastered on his face as he did so. schlatt let out a deep exhale, knowing it was loud enough to be a signal for him to keep his eyes where he needed them. if he wanted to keep them, that is. the cashier smiled and stood up more straight to eye the total, "$10,034.67, miss." he stated, almost not believing the price. schlatt watched how he was eyeing you, he was one to give second chances but he just blew that on how he was insistent on looking at you like that.

he took a step closer to the counter and leaned down slightly, just to throw it in the little cashier's face that he had a good six inches on him. cocky as ever, maybe some parts of the 'persona' were real after all. your eyes followed to him, noticing how irritated schlatt was getting to be. you knew you had to do something to get out of this, and pronto. you nervously smiled at the cashier before shuffling your hands to your purse, you couldn't imagine he was actually being serious about paying for all of this. that'd just be ridiculous. you felt his hand gently but strictly wrap around your wrist to halt your motion to try and grab your wallet. making you shoot your head back to him, "don't embarrass me like that." he says barely above a whisper. "you know i got it." he adds on with a sigh, pulling his wallet to whip out a black card of all his cards.

he used that card any chance he got, just to be annoying that he did in fact make that much. you watched as he handed it over to the cashier like it was nothing, looking back to you with a soft grin. "what?" he says as if he had no idea why you were looking at him like he had three heads. "douche." you roll your eyes with a smile. he shakes his head and leans his head down to reach you better, "you haven't seen anything yet." he whispers into your ear, you could practically hear the smug grin in his tone. the cashier carefully put all the dresses into the boxes, then slid into the bags. handing over the bag with a smile, "see you next time." he snarkily goodbyes, giving him a soft nod about to open your mouth to save the possibility of embarrassment. "oh you will." schlatt slyly replies before turning with you to leave, making sure to not let go of you for even a second. slightly tilting his head to eye the creep of a cashier, lowering his hand to your behind and nodding. he looked back to you and kissed the top of your head. was it prideful? yeah. did he care? no.

schlatt's head reeled back into the couch's leather, eyes closed as he impatiently waited for your little fashion show. the one that you insisted wasn't going to take long, now having him sit for a good 20 minutes to himself. wasn't your fault though, you were just intensely afraid you would tarnish the dress by putting it on too quickly. okay, and basically gawking at yourself in the mirror for way too long. let a girl live. schlatt opened his eyes and peered them over to the coffee table that had his brand new longiene watch that was sitting in it's neat little box.

"oh, what the hell." he groaned out, leaning over and picking up the small box. smiling to himself as he took it out of the case, draping it around his wrist to snap on. did feel quite nice to have three thousand on his arm, a little ego boost if you will. he twisted it on his wrist, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. "you almost done in there, hon?" he yelled out, spreading his legs out as he fidgeted with the settings on his new watch. you patted down your dress, knowing it was probably best you just escape your little narcissistic moment. for now at least. you took one last look in the mirror, swooshing your hair on your shoulder so you could get one last peak on how nice the backless effect was.

"in there in a sec!" you yelled back from the bathroom, letting go of your hair and smiling to yourself as you opened up the door to walk down the hallway. hoping you were going to get the reaction you were hoping for from him, maybe then the money would seem worth it. he cocked his head to the side as he heard your footsteps, a grin growing on him as he saw the first impressions of the dress. you grazed your hand along your hip as you made your way in front of him. "lil spin for me?" he asked with a smile, leaning back into the couch and crossing his arms. you nodded and twirled yourself around slowly. he licked the roof of his mouth as he watched every movement, deeply stuck almost.

you crossed your hands together behind your back as you stood in front of him, the look on his face alone told you all you needed to know. "it's even backless!" you excitedly state, turning your back towards him to show it off better. "if you don't sit your ass down." schlatt says as he shakes his head, gesturing for you to come over with his finger. you raise an eyebrow and slowly walk over to him, leaning down and letting your palms rest on the leather. purposely not giving him what he wanted right away. looking right into his eyes and titling your head to his just a smidge closer. "i take it you like the dress?" you whisper out, his hands reaching up to your ribs. "do i like the dress, huh?" he mocks back at you with a grin, letting his hands roam around under your breast. his eyes failing him as he looked at how your hips looked poking out.

he leaned his head back and looked up and down at you without shame, almost trying to convey his pleading with his eyes. you leaned your knee onto the leather, cocking your head to the side as you continued to move yourself onto the couch. schlatt's mind reeling as he could see the silk tightening around your hips. "i've already got hypertension, are you trying to make it worse?" he gruffly stated, his hands wandering down right above your hips as he helped you settle on his lap. you roll your eyes as you lean your hands on the edge of the couch, right above his shoulders. "you're so dramatic." you snicker out, adjusting the edges of your dress that were riding up. that little notion not making him the happiest.

his hands went right to your thighs to trail up the fabric, his chest slowly puffing as more and more skin showed. "this is more like it." he muttered, bringing his hands up to your shoulders to toy with the straps as he looked at you. "you don't think?" he added, expecting you to be vocal. he knew exactly what he wanted you to say, which was to admit how needy he was getting you. he could see it by how you gently squirmed under his touch, stroking his ego a little further. you slowly nod and adjust your hips above him, "yes, this is better." you sigh out. which earns him a little chuckle, raising his hand up to cup your chin. "there's the money." he practically seethes out, racing his free hand to your breasts to give them a firm squeeze. it was pretty hard not to.

his hand reaches up so he can gently tug down at the offensive fabric covering you, you arch your back a little to give him a better view. "you trying to say thank you?" he asks, tracing his finger along the silky straps. you softly hum and nudge your shoulders with a smile. "point taken." he adds, pulling down the straps and dropping his hand from your chin to fully engorge his hands to your breasts as the delicate fabric fell onto your stomach. "and no bra? you're just trying to get in trouble." he seethes out, involuntarily bucking his hips up as he looked up into your eyes. watching how the friction was affecting you.

he reaches his hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, gently groaning as your lips meet. his other hand still grabbing a selfish amount of your breast into it. you grind in with his hips, making him deeply exhale and drop his hand to your ass to give a sharp slap. you knew exactly what he wanted, and you knew exactly how you were going to do it. he gently pulled back from your lips after a moment, looking up at you. "i'm kinda exhausted from today, baby." he states, letting his hand grip along your ass again. that didn't mean he didn't want to do it, just meant he wanted you to do all the work. perhaps as a thank you.

you softly nod and lean down to your knees, feeling his hands leave you as you felt your knees hit the hard wood. you could see his smile above you as you began fiddling with his belt, his jeans practically making a tent. unbuckling the belt and pulling it off slowly, knowing damn well he wasn't in the mood for anything that slow. it was just fun to be a bit of a tease sometimes. he trailed his hand to the top of your scalp, ruffling your hair gently as he looked down at you. "cmon baby." his voice cooed, you sigh and unbutton his jeans. letting the zipper come undone as you pulled down at them. being met with a rather aggressive hard on from him.

you looked up to him, his fingertips running through your hair as he smiled down at you. then dropping his hand down the side of your face, shaking his head as he ran a thumb along your bottom lip. "so pretty." he whispered, letting his hand drop to your chin as your hands fiddled with his boxers. his anticipation only growing further, but he wasn't satisfied just yet. he fluttered his eyes shut as he felt your mouth wrap around him, his hand shooting right back to your hair to grab a fistful. you paced yourself as you listened to his grunts coming from his stubbornly closed lips. he wanted so badly to just slam your head down, but right now; it felt way too good to mess anything up. he could afford the patience.

he kept his grip on your hair, his mouth gaping open as he looked down to the saliva mess you were creating from your tongue. he wasn't usually the biggest fan of messy sex, but today would just have to be an exception. bucking his hips slightly, causing you to accidentally slam your mouth around his base. even the gagging sound beginning to excite him a little too much. he liked the sound of struggle, knowing it was hard to keep up. he leaned his head into the leather and looked down to see your eyes glaring at him, even the gloss over your eyes made him want to bite back. "keep it up with your mouth and i'll give you what your hips are begging for." he choked out, his stomach twitching from underneath his shirt. he knew was cusping at the edge.

you felt your body warm up at his words, only making you give him a real show with your mouth. his grunts becoming incredibly obvious now, he wanted the real thing. he let you pump him for a few more moments before pulling your hair to unlatch your lips from him. watching as the saliva slowly dripped from your gaping mouth, snickering to himself. "uh-uh, i want you up here baby." he breathily stated, releasing your hair from his fist. he watched as you crawled back onto his lap with a shit eating grin. "hike it up for me." he added on, trailing his hands on your thighs as you curled up the fabric around your hips. he looked down to your underwear and shook his head, "off." he demanded, making you quickly pull of the couch for a moment to toss them off of you. quickly plopping back onto his lap, his eyes zoned on the new sight.

his fingers quickly moved under you to rub along your clit, smiling to himself as it immediately made an effect on you. "you like me spending all that money on you?" he asked, continuing his pace. you shakily nod, only able to respond in needy whimpers. "come on, answer me baby. or i'll have to stop rubbing on you like this." he snickered out, knowing he was going get the exact answer he wanted. "y-yes!" you choke out, bucking your hips with the movement of his fingers. "and you just love paying back, don't you?" he sighs out, looking down to his fingers. your hands grip along the edge of the couch, almost about to fall back. "you just get whatever you want, huh?" he adds on, biting down on his tongue as he fastened his pace along you.

his kept his eyes down, slowly trailing his fingers from your clit to your slit with a grin. "you want this, don't you baby?" he groaned out as he teased the tip of his finger on your slit. you looked at him and leaned forward, almost trying to push it inside yourself. "mm-mm, don't get shy now- if you don't say what you want, i can't give it to you baby. tell me." he seethed out, shaking his head softly at your impatience. "please- give it to me." you whimper out, progressively just getting more and more needy. with that, and a click of his tongue, he shoved one finger inside you. your eyes shutting as it reached fully inside. "already two?" you groan out, earning him a little chuckle. "it's just one for now, baby." your hips immediately pressing down into his legs as he curled his finger. it really was unbelievable just how nice the one felt.

he watched as your head flailed back to his motions, his free hand reaching up your chest. letting his fingers grip along your neck gently, making you fix your head back down. "show me that you want more, baby. i know a sweet- sweet whore like you can." he sneered out, letting his grip tighten along your throat slightly. your noises only growing more desperate as he curled his fingers right where it needed to be, your hips switching along him. he watched how your hips moved with ease, knowing how good it feel right on his dick; but he could be patient. this was more than worth it. "god- you fucking slut." he seethed out, popping another finger in as he smoothed out his pacing. "you deserved another one for that." he added on, pumping his fingers in and out.

you lean down and press your palm into his chest to stabilize yourself, huffing for air as he continued. he snickered to himself as he could see how quickly you were just giving in, bringing his free hand to cup your face as he kept his finger's pacing. "it's a miracle you can take my cock when you act like this with my damn fingers." he muttered, keeping his grip tight on your face. your eyes fluttering open and shut as he kept on, unsure on how much longer he could go with this before you would completely unravel. "got you in the palm of my hand, don't i?" he adds on, swallowing deeply and waiting for you to do anything but whine out. your hips begin to whine on his fingers, making him look down at the mess you were creating with yourself. "fucking yourself back with my fingers? show me how you really feel, hm?" he grunted out, smiling as he noticed how close you were to coming right on him.

slowly nodding with a grin as he noticed the immense relief that washed on your face, feeling your hips slowly come to a stop. he groaned and pulled out his fingers of you, settling both his hands now on your hips as he raised your body up. "my turn, yeah? only fair right?" he seethed out, your body was already so exhausted. you knew it'd be worth it though, adjusting the fabric of the dress before settling yourself on his dick. schlatt's hands gripping tightly into your hips as you pushed all the way down, a bit surprised you did it so quickly. no questions. just how he wanted you. you kept your hand on his chest as you bounced yourself, his eyes transfixed on how your breasts were bouncing with you. a part of him wanting to just completely take over.

he slapped his hand along your back, causing you to fall right where he wanted you. running his fingertips into your back as he latched his lips onto your breast, lapping his tongue the best he could with your rapid bouncing. his eyes closed as he focused on sucking down on you, enjoying every last moment. roaming his hand along your back as he pulled you in close, smashing every inch of your flesh against his face. his other hand giving a sharp slap on your ass as you were reeling him in more and more. choking out a yell, only encouraging you to keep your vigorous pacing on his cock. your arms wrapping along his shoulders as you wailed out, schlatt's body stiffening as he felt your insides tighten around him. unable to control himself, his lips letting go of your breasts. his head falling to the back of the couch, all he could do was look at you and pant. it couldn't be more perfect.

you were so drowned in the pleasure, you didn't even realize how intense you were going. oh but he knew, letting out a low groan as you continued. his eyes failing to keep open, but he needed them open so he could see how good your tits looked while you bounced so desperately. almost like your life depended on it. his hand trailed up your sides, the dress had basically became a hip cover at this point. the only thing you could hear from him was a few 'fucks' and 'shit's underneath his breath, watching him beneath you as he struggled to keep himself together. "god- don't let me stop you now." he groaned out, bucking his hips to meet with yours as your pacing began to lessen. looking up into your eyes as he noticed how tired and shaky your legs were getting.

finally having enough, just wanting to rummage every bit inside of you. grabbing onto your sides and bucking his hips up and down, a pace you couldn't do if you tried. he smiled as he watched your lips fall agape, you really were just letting go. just for him. he'd be lying if he said that's not what he wanted. "come on. let go." he stifles out through his grunts, giving you another rash slap to the ass. "this is exactly what you wanted, hm?" he adds, looking up to you and expecting an immediate answer. he noticed the side of your ass reddening, only exciting him further to do it again. "answer me." he grunts out, practically branding your ass with his palm. you yelp out and grip onto the edge of the couch to not complete fall over, "g-god yes!" you shakily whimper out, huffing in and out.

he flails his head back and continues to mindlessly pump into you, almost choking on his breath as he climaxes. slowing down his pacing as he lets it fill inside, rubbing his hands around the raised up skin on your hip. the heat radiating off his palms. "you wanna show me the other dresses?" he snickers out, trying to catch up with his breaths. running a hand through his hair with a smile, you groan and pull yourself off of him. almost stumbling on your own movements, "if that's what you want." you huff out, watching as he began to pull up his boxers. "what? scared of round two?" he stifles out, sitting up more upright as he watched you fix yourself back up. you roll your eyes with a grin as you pull up the straps of the dress, his grin growing as he's reminded just how good you look.

you peel up the fabric up to cover up your breasts, wincing as you try to move your hips. the silk pairing perfectly with your dampened skin, and he was well aware of how beautiful it looked. "yeah. i'm taking you back to that store soon." he mutters, eyeing you up and down. "you've made it clear it's worth it."

author's note : i think this was the most excited i've gotten off a one shot idea, maybe Ever. perhaps it's because it's based on one of my favorite CAKE song, but none the less @thecourtjester-e is a mastermind and i appreciate the patience and creativity that was helped put into this. so PLEASE check them out !! 💌 their new series is one of my personal favs and i'm sure it will be yours too :,))

[bambiesfics]

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗚𝗳 — Ellie x Bimbo!r

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie has a panic attack, this references joel’s death, anxiety, bile, nausea, and hyper sexual themes, Ellie’s butch, wears a packer/strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc Reader’s a bimbo and genuinely stupid. Ellie gets really scared.

𝜗𝜚 Ellie Williams ✦ I listened to Vietnam - Crystal Castles it’s tempo mirrors Ellie’s panicked anxiety. I’ve linked to a few seconds before the beat drops, on YouTube for accessibility. Listen with earphones so the music fucks your ears.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. Read this to get a sense of Ellie’s headspace.

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

Ellie fisted the joystick into neutral and killed the engine. She cracked all 5 knuckles before reaching over to release your seatbelt. The belts cold buckle sprang across your breasts and over your shoulder, turning your nipples visibly hard and full in their wake. Ellie fought off the urge to glance down; to drink them in. She was semi-successful at managing away her inner teenage boy every time it chose to rear its ugly hungry head at inopportune moments.

  “So…” she started, her hand massaging the inner dough of your thighs, warmed by the hug of your crossed legs. “We just gettin’ your little sparkly earrings? Or are you gonna get distracted and spend more money than I make in a single paycheck?” 

  You ran your palms up the sleeves of Ellie’s brown military jacket. Fascinated by the texture of the rough fabric everytime one of its crinkles caught against your acrylic nails. You couldn’t fathom how Ellie walked around in clothes so rough and distressed, all of your outfits were soft cotton or silky satin. And here Ellie wore a deconstructed uniform jacket like it was meant for her body. You blinked away your distracted thoughts, and leaned into nose at her neck. Pressing nose and lips to the source of the most comforting scent in the world to you. Allspice, cigarette smoke, and 2-in-1 body wash. There was still a faint trace of her cologne, you wish she wore it, the traces of it made you go brainless for your butch.

  “Earrings only.” Your sweet voice was muffled against her neck. She reached her other hand up to cup the back of your neck. The cold metal of her rings kissed your skin, but you leaned into it.   

 “I’ll wait for you right here, peach.” 

“Okay.” You nodded obediently. 

“Don’t spend too long in there, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded once again. 

“If anyone stares at you too long or makes you feel weird for being girly, call me and I’ll meet you wherever. Especially those judgemental ass grandmas.”

You looked up at her, her hair was in her eyes, casting a shadow that turned her gaze into a deep hunter green. 

You leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Ellie attempted to chase the kiss, until you slid your hand between the valley of her breasts and urged her to stay. Behave baby boy. 

  Ellie’s right eyebrow quirked up in response, impressed that you kept her in check. That you knew her so well that you could tell exactly where that kiss could’ve led to if you didn’t tell her to slow down. 

“Be right back here in an hour.” Ellie was relishing in how your thumb rubbed across her chest. Your hand rested on her chest like you were her little damsel in distress, looking to her to save you. You made her feel like Clark Kent, and it made her want to puff her chest out. 

  “Hour-and-a-half, I wanna get ice cream.” You prattled.

  “An hour.”

  “Ellieeee” You whined. 

  “If you’re not back here by 2:30 pm, I’m stomping into Icing myself, throwing you over my shoulder and marching right back out.” 

  “Please as if you could hoist me up over your shoulder.” You leaned over to fish Ellie’s wallet from her back pocket. 

  Ellie side-eyed you intensely as she tracked the movement. She enclsaped your wrist in an iron grip once your acrylics brushed the back pocket of her jeans. Her thumb pressed down. You couldn’t move.

“You didn’t seem confused about my strength when I lifted you into that full nelson and pounded you in front of the mirror.” She dropped her blue steel face and started grinning like a fox. “Uhnnuhuh Ellie, m’gonna squirt. I’m gonna squirt on you daddy.” She mocked in a high-pitched overly feminine voice. She drew her eyebrows together to school up the appearance of someone deliriously aroused. One that mimicked your cock-drunk face all those days ago.  

  Ellie dropped the comedic expression for a moment, in favor of replacing it with the one she sported to intimidate customers who started testing her boundaries or her patience. The one that said ‘respect me.’  

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m made of steel.” She spat.

  You leaned up, and just planted a glossy kiss on her cheek. She blushed until she was cherry tomato red. She always blushed harder when you were affectionate to her, in the middle of her egotistical masculine delusions. Like a mom kissing her son's cheek, after he called himself Spider-Man. 

Ellie would tease you for hours. But remind her again you were her adorable little girlfriend who she worshiped, then she’d be back to acting right again. Ready to hump the air just to get a whiff of your hair. Sweet and pliable. Ellie crossed her fingers subtly and hoped you got specks of glitter gloss on her cheek from that kiss. She wore your kisses like merchandise. Those and the smell of your pussy on her mouth and fingers. Some days, the smell was just smeared all over her face. 

  You blinked at her, slow and pouty in the way that got her real happy and pleased. “Now that you’re done poking and teasing me, can I go inside to get my sparkly earrings?” 

Ellie slid her wallet into your palm, her lips parted at the way your acrylics snatched it. The way they sunk into the soft leather. Mmmm.

  “An hour.” 

You climbed out of her beat up hatchback. The metal groaned as you slammed the door shut. “See you Els, if I get in trouble or get lost I’ll call you okay? I charged my phone this time. Bye-bye.”  You sing-songed just before walking away, out of the parking lot and towards the entrance of the mall.

  You were the utter definition of hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go. Ellie drank in the very very obvious little characters of your ass. The jiggly flesh, dimpled skin, and the way they smacked each other with each step. The type of visual someone could only see if the person walking in front of them was naked. Which you practically were considering how your pink cotton leggings looked painted on. The silhouette was way too intimate with how well it showed the character of your ass. She could’ve forced you to change, but you two had such a good morning today. 

Ellie didn’t want to—no—she hated picking fights with you. Ellie being mad at you? That was just another Tuesday. She had temperament issues, trauma, death of a loved one blah blah blah. But you being mad at Ellie? She’d kill herself. She shuddered in the car at the thought of it, and swallowed her jealousy. Everyone sees your little dimpled ass? Fine. She’s the only person that’s seen it twerking for her during backshots. And anyway, you’d get jealous if she wore gray sweatpants to work, so she kinda understood the sentiment. Especially because she packed everywhere, and the bulge was glaring. 

  Ellie wrapped her knuckles on the steering wheel. Trying to distract herself from the slow and lonely weight of the parking lot. Joy Division’s “disorder” played in her head. She considered pulling out a Marlboro to smoke, but thought against it. She remembered how you squealed whenever she kissed you with cigarette breath, telling her how it made your kisses taste so bitter. 

Truth be told, she was just as clingy with you, as you were to her. You just initiated it more often. When someone follows her around like a little puppy trying to catch up to its much larger owner all day, it’s hard not to notice their missing presence. 

  Ellie played with her rings as the mounting anxiety gnawed at her tummy. She turned her wrist over to check her watch. Ten. Only ten minutes had gone by? Fucking christ. 

She puffed out her cheeks. Yeah she was being ridiculous. Knowing you, you probably had only just arrived at the store, and that meant making a cute pikachu face at every new piece of merchandise they shipped into the shop floor that week. So it’d be a while before you were back. She could’ve gone in with you, but Ellie knew her presence there would’ve weirdly encouraged you to take a full day tour of the mall. She was your walking wallet apparently. But it’s worse when the wallet can actually give in.

  It was better this way, you kept her card in hand, but Ellie wasn’t physically there to actually convince of anything. So you couldn’t use it to buy anything more than earrings. Plus, she couldn’t stand another trip to Victoria’s Secret. As much as she loved the way you modeled a show for her whenever you tried stuff on, and as much as the jokes she cracked with the other boyfriends waiting for their girlfriends to be done made for good conversation, Victoria’s Secret just served to make her feel incredibly out of place. Mostly due to its overtly sexual displays of femininity. Something she still struggled to place how she felt about. All Ellie knew was that she didn’t want it.

Matter of fact she had repelled femininity so much, it even reflected in her dating preferences. You were by far the most feminine girl Ellie had ever dated. That was a considerably large shift from the tomboys she typically had crushes on in highschool.  

But she couldn’t help but be turned on by the way your acrylics stroked her bulge, by the way you blinked up at her with those dolly lashes like you needed her approval more than you needed oxygen, by the way she got both wet and enraged seeing men’s gazes linger on you as she walked behind you. Lingering in a way that they never did for any of her exes. It ignited a possessiveness in her she had convinced herself she didn’t have the ability to feel. Made her walk out the house with her shoulders drawn up to her ears, scowling. As if to say to all the men, ‘fuck off, get your own cocksleeve. This one’s claimed.’ 

  You were the cutest cocksleeve too. The human embodiment of a little bow for her dick. 

Just the thought prompted her to squeeze her bulge through her jeans, feeling phantom erections.

God it’d been how long now? Ellie checked her watch, reading the watch face to make sure she’d read that right. Twenty minutes? Only?

  Her palms started perspiring, and she started grinding her teeth. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. She’ll be back any minute. Be cool, you freak. 

Ellie reached to grab her phone, but the way the time flashed at the top bar of the screen made her stomach knot up anxiously. She chucked her phone into the passenger seat, and rolled down the window to get some fresh air. It felt beautiful for a moment, her rough short hair curling around the wind and blowing in her eyes. But then she felt like she couldn’t breathe again. Like her throat was squeezing in on itself. So Ellie unbuttoned the top button of her navy plaid button down. She yanked the collar away from her neck, and took deep breaths. Nice and deep slow breaths. The demonic little shadows and whispers of panic ebbed away, leaving only room for peace and the sunlight of the early afternoon. Ellie smiled, she’d be fine. 

She played with her rings, recounting all the places and dates she’d thrifted them from. Then she started fidgeting with them as her leg bounced in the car, working off some of that returning nervous energy. The little shadows were starting to creep back in her mind again. Ellie white-knuckled the steering wheel. “No, no, no please. Not now, please not now.” She sucked in a deep breath as unshed tears lined her waterline. She flipped her wrist watch face up quickly, you’d been gone for thirty-five minutes by this point. And Ellie felt her skin run cold. thirty-five minutes left twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five more minutes for the ebb and flow of panic to infect her brain and trigger her adrenaline response. Twenty-five more minutes of letting her own mind attack itself. Ellie couldn’t stomach the thought. She started gasping as she fidgeted to remove the car keys from the ignition. The dark whispering shadow only urged her to look at one thought in her mind: Alone. You’re alone again, Ellie. 

  She nearly keeled over from the sheer nausea that thought brought about. Ellie tripped out of her car, slammed the door and stumbled towards the mall as her heartbeat thundered louder than her thoughts. And her thoughts were very loud. Her face felt tight and itchy, as she ran. And due to the combination of wind and glossy eyes, her vision warped until it became disfigured. Which only set off to make her blood run icier. Like she was being deprived of all her necessary  senses as she yanked the mall door open and stumbled around trying to wade her way through until she got to the side where women’s jewelry and clothing was huddled. Her vision was disjointed, Ellie felt as if she was looking through a fish-eye lens. It caused bile to rise in her throat. Ellie was spiraling, she knew it. And if she didn’t find you—fuck where were you?—it was only going to get uglier for her. She despised being reduced to ugly. She hated herself when she was ugly. 

  Snot mixed in with tears as she scaled the walls of the mall trying to use the brightness of pink and white signs to guide her to the right store. You promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing. She hummed the mantra in corners of her brain.

She gurgled “better fucking be at Icing otherwise I’m gonna kill he—my heart christ—fuck fuck fuck baby please be at icing.” The palpitations rolled in, causing her heart to beat erratically. Two beats instead of one, a skipped beat, or an extra hard beat. Every bastardized combination instead of the reliable, glub-glub of a healthy heart. Ellie gripped her own shirt, and tried to feel any lingering warmth from your hand when you placed it there nearly an hour ago. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and she was still blind with a disjointed vision no matter how much she rubbed her jacket across her eyes to soak up tears. Ellie stumbled until she saw a store with the familiar lettering, and she yanked and tugged at her shirt to ground herself as she made her way to the checkout lane. “Hi.” Her voice came out so small and strained. She hated herself for it. 

  “Have you seen a girl, she’s—seems about yay-high and she’s wearing pink leggings and a tight pink top. Oh—she’s pretty—long nails. My girlfriend, do you know where my girlfriend is?” Ellie choked, her sanity was slipping. Her bloodshot eyes were crazed as she stared down at the cashier like the woman held the answer to curing Ellie’s mental suffering. 

  “N-no. Sorry I didn’t see a girl with pink leggings.”

  “No?” Ellie’s voice grew fainter, weaker. She sobbed “are you sure?” but her voice crackled with that sentence, and the cashier just stared at her with a puzzled expression, unsure of what to say to diffuse the situation. 

  Ellie stumbled out of the store, flinching at the expressions of customers who were looking around the store to see if they were the only one witnessing the girl's mounting panic attack. She ran to an empty hallway in the mall. The one where they kept those gumball machines that hadn’t been replaced since 1998. She fell to her knees and curled in on herself. Her nails scratched her scalp until it broke skin, trying to draw out the thoughts of being alone, being alone, being alone, being, alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, out of her head. 

Ellie tugged at her hair now, using the self-inflicted pain to distract from that hungry giggling fear, the one that wrapped itself around her eyes and throat and told her to describe what she saw: loneliness. Pitch black, devoid of warmth, pure unadulterated isolation. 

She needed you, needed you so bad as she cried to herself on her knees. She should’ve never let you go alone, she should’ve never let you walk away from her, she should’ve never let you have an hour to leave her, she should’ve never let you take her wallet and not take her, she should’ve never ever ever ever ignored the signs, the raised hairs and the feeling of dread that pooled in her stomach the past week. Just waiting to be triggered by something insignificant. Now it was triggered, and in an incredibly public place too. Ellie beat her chest, coughing just to bring herself down from the dissociative hell her mind was flinching in. “Baby where are you? I’m hurting…it’s hurting me again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, peach.”  

  Nails bluntly tickled her nape, sending a shiver down her spine just as the smell of sweet jasmine and vanilla perfume engulfed her. Ellie broke from her kneeling fetal position to draw you into her lap. She didn’t even need to look at you, she knew you like the back of her hand. Ellie knew the feeling of those acrylic nails because of how deeply they’d scratched down her back in bed. She knew the smell of your perfume from how often she’d buried her face into your waiting body after work for comfort. Her grip was painful, likely breaking capillaries from its tightness. She mewled for you like a kitten finding its mother. “Babygirl.” 

  “Ellie—Ellie I’m sorry did I take too long? I set an alarm, I don’t think it went off, I’m sorry Ellie I didn’t mean too I promise.” Ellie let out a wet laugh from where her face was crooned in your neck. She just shook her head. It absolutely was not your fault. But God weren’t you just the cutest fucking thing in the world for thinking you’d made another little mistake? How sweet, that even in the face of Ellie’s utter mental crack and breakdown, you found a way to give your baby the benefit of the doubt. Ellie dragged her face up your neck, inhaling deeply as her nose traced a path up your throat. The scent alone was like Xanax to the nerves, drowning her in a sea of serenity. Letting the anxiety ebb away until it was no more than a dull twinge, the whispers reduced to muted hums. You were her light. Ellie’s grip on you tightened, her medicine. 

  She pulled her face away, and she could only imagine how distressed she must’ve looked by the way your eyebrows drew up, and by the way your pretty little lips formed a worried pout. Ellie gnawed on her bottom lip. There was nothing to fear, you would understand. 

“You didn’t take too long princess, I just had a panic attack.”

  Your hands flew to cup Ellie’s reddened blotchy cheeks, massaging her face cutely as her eyelashes fluttered. God, you were a balm. “I should’ve seen it coming, I’ve been feeling so out of it the past week. But then this morning was so fun. We made fluffy pancakes, you sat on my lap and listened to my dumb work drama, helped me trim my bangs, then...” Ellie blew air into her cheeks and looked up. This was going to be hard to say. Felt like a lump stuck in her throat. “Then we got ready and the kiss we had before we got in the car made everything melt away. This morning was so good baby, so good. I tried to ignore it, thinking my brain just wanted to be a little asshole and spook me for no reason. But no—I should’ve known—it doesn’t play tricks, it only gives warnings.” 

  Ellie leaned into your palms, she kissed them gently. “Can we go home baby?.” She held your gaze through wet eyelashes. You nodded “Mhm. I’m sorry Els I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I missed you.” You were disappointed because you didn’t intuitively know the right words to say, and how to say them. Didn’t know how to articulate that you understood her pain but she also shouldn’t beat herself up. Everything you thought of sounded cliche, you weren’t smarter than her, you weren’t able to come up with reassuring words the way other people could. Not like her uncle Tommy or Maria, or anyone. All you could do was cover her in kisses, tell her you loved her, that next time you’d never ever be separated from her, and cradle her head against your chest. 

  Ellie rose to her feet, pulling you up with her by your elbows. The kiss that followed was for comfort, for reassurance. For the feeling of squeezing her human emotional support plushie. 

  Ellie pulled away first, leaving you wanting more. She tasted so good, smelled so good. Made you want to pur and stroke her through her jeans. But it wasn’t the time nor place. Not after recent events. 

“Did you get your earrings at least?” 

“Yeah, I got a pair for you too!” You shared excitedly. 

  Ellie was still shaken up, but for now she could break out a small grin. “You got earrings for me?”

  “Yes, same color too!” 

  “Baby, my ears aren’t even pierced...”

  “Oh.” Ellie loved that, your characteristic little ‘oh’. 

“I knew that. I just got them for when—for when you decided to pierce them, yeah.” 

Ellie was hot in your heels as you two made your way out of the mall “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh yeah? K, then. Thank you so much for getting me a gift using my credit card.”

 “You’re very welcome, I love when we match as a couple. Els when we got home, did you want my chicken noodle? Cause it’ll make you feel better.”  

Ellie sucked in a breath. Cuteness aggression was real, and she was feeling it so hard right then. Right after her emotions had already been frayed by her anxiety. She knew, if it wasn’t for the way the panic attack had left her feeling utterly exhausted, bone tired like a wet blanket, ready to drop at a moment's notice to recuperate, that she would’ve done something that would’ve pulled a squeal out of you in the car. And she had the package to do so. 

  “Sure, I’ll eat your damn noodle soup.” She chuckled tiredly. 

  You put both palms on her chest and leaned in to kiss her, stealing back some of the desire that was ripped away too soon in the mall. 

“You’ll feel better in no time.” 

 Ellie gave you a once-over. Over eager, as usual. 

“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” 

  You littered her face in kisses all the way home, like you always did. Like you thought each press of your lips to her freckled face was going to cure her of her anguish. And believe Ellie, every press of your puffy lips to her cheeks, tip of her nose and forehead did more for her state of mind than two hours of trauma therapy a week did. Or at least that’s what she’d like to believe. Fuck the noddle soup, it’s you. You’re what’s going to make her feel better. As long as you’re there, everyday for her to come home to. All she needed was her pretty princess, her little babydoll, her little bimbo.

[itneverendshere]

Bartender reader :) reader and Rafe get in a fight and it’s a big one (while they are living together) and reader needs some space and decides to sleep on the couch/guest bedroom but Rafe completely forgets about the fight once he realizes what she’s doing and puts his foot down “you can be mad but you’re still sleeping in this bed” kinda deal?

i feel like their fights never last bc they can't be away from each other that long and bc they're just too disgustingly in love🙂‍↔️ thank you for the request!🤎

i would never do you wrong- r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: a little angst at first, but happy ending obviously.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping your phone a little too tight. The conversation you had been having for the past hour felt like running headfirst into a brick wall—no, arguing with a brick wall.

“I don’t see why this is such a big deal,” Rafe groaned, like a toddler, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’ve been working nonstop. You deserve a break.”

“A break?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Baby, I just got promoted. I can’t take time off like that.”

“You’re acting like this job will disappear if you take a week off. I’ve already planned the trip, I’ve already talked to Ward. You don’t even have to worry about money—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut him off, standing now, your body vibrating with frustration. “You don’t get it! This promotion means everything to me. I worked my ass off for it. And now you’re telling me to throw that away for a vacation?

“I’m not telling you to throw anything away, baby. God, you make it sound like I’m asking you to quit.” Rafe crossed his arms, his brow furrowed, and looked at you like you were the unreasonable one, like you'd just insulted him. “It’s just one week. We can afford to relax.”

“Yeah and what about the wedding? If we’re gonna pay for it, we gotta save up.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, his head shaking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do remember I’m rich, right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Seriously? That’s your solution? Just throw money at it?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s not what I meant. I can pay for the wedding,” he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. “You’re forgetting I have more than enough money to take care of both of us.”

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing deeply. “I don’t want you to pay for it all.” You were pacing now, “It sounds like you think we can just forget about budgeting and responsibilities because you’ve got a trust fund.”

Rafe threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m just saying we can afford to take some time for ourselves. You don’t need to stress over every little thing.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning sharply to face him. “I’m not ‘stressing over every little thing,’ Rafe. I’m being realistic. We have a wedding to plan. We’ve got bills. I’ve got my career to think about. And no, I don’t want your dad’s money involved in any of that.”

“We have an entire year to save up,” He stared at you, a steely glint in his eyes. “So what? You’re just gonna run yourself into the ground? Burn out completely?” 

Your jaw clenched as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m doing what I need to do. I’ve always done that.”

“And I’ve always been here to help you. But it’s like you don’t even want it.”

“That’s not what this is about,” you argued, stepping closer to him now. “I don’t want to be dependent on that money. I don’t want us to start our marriage with me feeling like I’m just along for the ride.”

Rafe’s face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “So what? You think I’m trying to make you feel small? Like you can’t handle your shit?”

“No. I just want to build something with you. With you, Rafe, not because of Ward’s money.”

He looked away as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the muscle moving under his skin as he swallowed whatever hot-headed thing you knew he felt like saying. Then, with a frustrated exhale, he said, “It’s not like I wanted to rely on him either. But I’m trying to make things easier for us.”

“And I appreciate that, I do.” You sighed, taking a breath. “But this promotion... it’s my chance to prove myself. I want to know that I earned everything we have. Not that it came from someone else’s checkbook.”

Rafe’s eyes moved to yours, and you could see the tension still there. He slowly let out a long breath. The air hissed softly between his teeth as his chest fell, shoulders sagging “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I learned from the best,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

He let out a bitter chuckle, it didn’t hold any joy. “I’m not trying to control everything. I just want to make sure we have time for us before everything else gets in the way.”

You nodded, “I know. But you can’t just expect me to drop everything and go on vacation because you’ve already decided it.”

“I thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he argued, “I’m trying to make time for us, and you’re treating it like it’s a problem.”

You sighed for what it felt like the millionth time that night, rubbing your temples. “It’s not that, baby. I want to be with you. You know that. But I can’t ignore everything else that’s going on.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to find the right thing to say. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. If you don’t want to take the time off, then don’t.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re making it seem like I’m asking for something ridiculous.”

You scoffed, frustration taking over again.

“Because to me, it is ridiculous! You don’t get it. You don’t have to think about whether you can afford to take time off, but I do. You’ve never had to think about that stuff.”

His face tightened, jaw clenching as he stared at you like he was trying to stay calm. “And that’s why I’m telling you, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve got us covered. You’re acting like I’m trying to sabotage your career.”

“You’re not listening to me! This promotion isn’t just a paycheck, it’s everything I’ve worked for. I’ve spent years proving I’m good enough, and now you’re asking me to step back like it’s no big deal.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his posture stiff, defensive. “I’m asking for one week. One. Fucking. Week. You act like the world’s gonna end if you take some time for yourself.”

“Because for me, it doesn’t stop! You don’t understand what it’s like—”

He cut you off again, you hated when he did it. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and tell me I don’t understand. You think I don’t get what it’s like to have shit on the line? I’ve been under pressure my whole life.”

You flinched at his words, your eyes narrowing. “This is different. I’ve always had to make sure I could take care of myself.”

His laugh was bitter, almost sarcastic. “Is that what you think this is? You’re my fiancé.”

You frowned, feeling the hurt in his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m in your shadow, like I’m always gonna be ‘Rafe’s wife’ instead of my own person.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Because every time we talk about this, you make it sound like money is the solution to everything. Like we can just throw cash at our problems and they’ll disappear.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you, his expression darkening. “Because it fucking helps, okay?”

You pinched your eyes closed, “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t lose myself in all of this.”

He let out a harsh breath, his shoulders tense. “Lose yourself? You think I’m trying to take that from you?”

“No,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes. “But it feels like you don’t get why this is so important to me.”

“Are you serious right now?” he cut you off. “You know what, do whatever you want. I’ll just cancel the trip.”

“Rafe—”

“Forget it,” he said, already turning away, heading for the door. “Goodnight.”

He didn't even slam the door.

You sat down on the bed, your head in your hands, trying to calm down. You glance at your phone, thinking about texting him, apologizing maybe. But you weren’t ready for that yet. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You needed to get out of your own head, even just for a little while. You couldn’t stand being in the same room after that argument.

Without thinking much more about it, you grabbed your pillow and the spare blanket from the closet, making your way toward the living bedroom. The couch in there wasn’t as comfortable or as big, but it would give you the distance you needed for the time being. You were pulling back the covers when you heard your bedroom door creak open. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. 

He couldn't stay away longer than five minutes.

“Really?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving. “You’re gonna sleep in here?”

You stayed facing the bed, not turning to look at him. “I can’t do this right now.”

There was a pause, and then you heard him step closer. “No. That’s not how we’re doing this.”

You frowned, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can be pissed at me. You can need space, fine. But you’re not sleeping in here.” His voice was firm, and when you finally turned to look at him, his blue eyes were locked on yours, unwavering.

“Rafe—”

“I’m serious, baby." He moved closer, gently pulling the blanket from your hands. “You’re mad. I get it. But you’re still sleeping in our bed.”

You shook your head, trying to push the blanket back toward him. “I just—”

“No.” His voice softened, but he was still insistent. “I’m not letting you run away from me. We’ll deal with it. But we’re not doing this. You’re not sleeping alone.”

You looked at him and saw the same tiredness, the same frustration, in his face. He held your gaze for a moment longer before reaching out, and taking your hand in his.

“Come on. You belong in our bed.”

There was no fight left in you as you let him pull you back down the hall, back into the warmth of your shared space. As you settled beside him, Rafe reached over, his hand finding yours under the blankets, he traced small, absent patterns on the back of your hand, like you weren’t fighting just ten minutes ago.

He sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I already know you’re capable of handling anything.”

“It’s not about proving it to you,” you admitted, “It’s about proving it to myself. I need to know that no matter what happens—good or bad—I’ve earned it. That I deserve it.”

Rafe was quiet for a couple seconds, his eyes stuck on the ceiling. Then, his grip on your hand tightened slightly,  “I hate this,” he muttered finally.

You turned your head to look at him, “Hate what?”

“This.” He gestured between the two of you with his free hand. “Fighting like this. Making you feel like I’m pulling you in two different directions. Like you have to choose.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You’re not making me choose. I just, I want to build something for myself.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t get that? You think I’m just some spoiled asshole who’s never had to work for anything?” He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more directly. “But I do get it. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be what you need me to be.”

Your heart twisted at the look on his face. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face.

“Every time I look at you,” he murmured, his gaze softening, “I see everything you’ve done to get here. Everything you’ve pushed through. And it kills me, because I feel like I’ve just been dead weight. You spent months holding me together when I was falling apart. I could barely get out of bed some days baby, and you were there, making sure I was eating, making sure I was taking my meds, making sure I didn’t—I know how much you gave up for me.”

“Baby, stop,” you mumbled, the hurt in your chest almost unbearable. It hadn't been easy, but you didn't regret a single thing, wouldn't change anything. You'd do it all over again if you had to.

“No.” His voice was firm, “I hate that I put you through that. That I made you carry all that weight when you should’ve been focusing on yourself, your career. Hell, I wasn’t even there for you when you got promoted, because I was too busy trying to keep my shit together. And now I want to make up for that.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, feeling the way his jaw unclenched under your touch. “You don’t have to make up for anything. You were going through something, and I wanted to be there for you.”

“I know you did,” he said softly, “But that’s why I’m doing this. I’m trying to be the guy you deserve—the guy who makes things easier for you, who makes you feel like you can breathe again.” He shook his head, teasing just a little, “But every time I try, it feels like I’m just reminding you of all the ways I’ve let you down.”

You blinked back the sudden tears. “You haven’t let me down. I need to find a balance. Between us and—” You gestured vaguely around you, trying to explain everything you were feeling. “And everything else.”

“I get that,” he murmured, leaning in closer until his forehead rested against yours. “But I also need you to let me in. Let me help you. Not because I want to throw money at it, but because I love you, and I want to see you happy. Not burnt out and exhausted.”

His voice broke a little on the last word, and you felt your initial stubbornness crumbling. “I know,” You squeezed your eyes shut, “I know. I just don’t want to lose everything I’ve been working for. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in us that I forget who I am outside of this.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

“You’re not going to lose yourself, okay? Not with me. You’re always going to be you. Even when you’re stressed and stubborn and driving me up the wall.” His lips quirked in a small, sad smile. “I’ll still be here. I just want to have a little time with you before life pulls us in a million directions again.”

You leaned into him, pressing your face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. It wasn’t that you didn’t want his help. You just needed to do this one thing for youself. You moved closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered earnestly, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t want to spend time with you. I do. It’s just hard to balance everything.”

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to figure it out. You wanted to compromise, because that's what you two always did.

“I’ll take the time off,” You felt him move beside you, his eyes on you now, curious but cautious. “But… I need a little time. Can we plan the trip for a couple of months from now? Once things settle down with work?”

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes searching your face. “You’d do that?”

You nodded, lifting your head. “I know I’ve been all over the place about this, but I get that we need time together. I just can’t drop everything right now. But in two months, I’ll be ready. We can go wherever you want.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He shifted onto his side, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you said, smiling back at him. “We’ll go. No work emails, no distractions. Just us.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his fingers tracing along your jaw. “Two months, huh?”

You looked up at him, rolling your eyes lightly. “Yes, two months. And I’m going to hold that ‘no work emails’ rule, for you too.”

He chuckled, his lips curving into a genuine smile this time. “I figured.”

You swat at his chest lightly. “I’m serious. I want this trip to be for us. I need it to be something that we’re both looking forward to—not just you dragging me away because you think I’m overworking.”

“I know. I promise when we do go, it’ll be perfect. Wherever you want. No distractions.”

“Good,” you whispered, resting your head back on his shoulder. You listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. This was the peace after the storm, the moment when everything felt like it was falling into place again.

Rafe’s hand gently traced patterns on your arm, and he pressed a soft kiss to your head, “I’m proud of you. For everything. The promotion, the way you’ve been handling all of this. I’m proud to call you mine.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, baby,” you murmured. “That means more to me than you know.”

He smiled, “Just don’t ever think you have to choose between me and your dreams, okay? I want you to have it all. I want us to have it all.”

You nodded, the last of your resistance melting away. “I know. And I want us to have it all, too. Together.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

[bluskaiwriting]

fetor & fertile | sergei "kraven" kravinoff

➤ pairing: AFAB reader x Sergei Kravinoff / Kraven

➤ warnings: Smut, mild predator/prey play, having a heat, animal play (a smidge), fuck or die because why tf not

➤ notes: Since y'all loved the last one so much, a little more filth for the people. dialogue in italics means it's in Russian but I'm not gonna Google translate and butcher Russian so just imagine~

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

She hadn't realised her heat was so close when she'd made the journey out here.

It shouldn't have been for another few months at least. An early heat only meant one thing, there was a viable mate nearby.

It also meant she was fucked.

She'd barely trekked for another hour or so before she realised she wasn't alone.

Whatever it was had been following her by scent, her stench getting stronger as her body temperature rose.

She was in no state for a fight, if it came down to it.

Gritting her teeth, she knew that she had to make it to The Hunter's lair before sunset if she wanted to survive.

According to her map, it should have been only another few kilometres to the dome she was told to look out for.

Her rucksack was feeling heavier, the exhaustion and lethargy of the heat catching up to her. Her hair started to plaster to her forehead, and clothes stuck to her clammy skin.

As she walked, her mind wandered, and she recalled what her mother taught her about the symptoms of an unignored heat.

Fever, muscle spasms, uncontrolled perspiration, accelerated heart rate, and in some cases, death.

Usually, she'd have access to chemical suppressants or her mating simulator in the city. However, with the death of her uncle and the entire operation going to shit in the mess, things were not going as planned.

So her grand plan to save her family was to throw everyone under the bus, giving up her uncle's associates to a figure known as The Hunter.

He was supposed to be a legend, a boogie man to scare convicts and criminals into behaving. But a revelation came in the form of a file that she received after she called in a favour from law school.

He was very real and very effective.

If he could take care of the problems at hand, she was willing to pay whatever he wanted. But from what she heard, he wasn't interested in money, only justice. She could work with that.

As the dome came into sight, she heaved a sigh of relief, but before she could take another step the hairs on her neck stood on end.

Whatever had been following her, finally caught up.

Turning around slowly, she came face to face with a man with eyes like a lion's.

The Hunter.

He was tall and built like a warrior, with dark, long hair. Broad shoulders and endlessly long arms. His fists were clenched by his sides, bulging veins crawling up his forearm. Her heat-glazed brain seemed to focus on his thighs, thick and strong, his pants leaving nothing to the imagination. His face had to have been sculpted by the gods. Gaze dark, he scanned her head to toe, pupils narrowed.

Silently, she hoped that he liked what he saw.

He upturned his head, taking a deep breath before huffing and looking at her with something curious in his eyes.

"You're real brave, coming out here smelling like that."

His brow quirked, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. She ignored her hormones screaming for her to submit to him.

"I'm looking for The Hunter."

His eyebrows raised, something akin to amusement colouring his features.

"Who's asking?'

She shared her name and mentioned that she got her information from a friend from law school.

His stance seemed to soften, less offensive, more defensive. Which meant he recognised what she was saying. Thank god.

"Why are you here?"

"I've got names for you." His eyes gleamed with determination.

Hook and centre.

He invited her into his home, and offered her a snack and drink, said that she could stay the night, on account of the trek she'd made to get to him.

At this point, her heat was accelerating, her breaths coming out in short pants and her skin was flushed and hot to the touch. If he noticed, he didn't mention it.

He still seemed to be taking deep breaths, especially in her direction, but didn't bring it up again, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not.

She vaguely realised that he was asking her a question, but she barely registered it.

Her head felt like she was underwater. She could hear an odd ringing and spots were dancing before her. The world suddenly seemed much too bright and it spun deliriously. She found herself on the floor before she could catch herself.

When her eyes opened, she found him knelt beside her, eyes wide with desire.

"You're not human, are you?"

She barely managed to shake her head while shivering. She could feel the cramps now, and if she didn't take care of it soon, she would pass the point of no return.

"Fuck."

He inhaled sharply, eyes glowing brighter.

"You smell..."

She knew that suppressants were only going to do so much now, her body sensed a viable mate and it seemed she would have to give in to her baser self.

Though, it didn't hurt that the specimen before her was most certainly satisfactory.

"Please, help me. It hurts." She whined, tearing at her clothes desperately.

She felt so hot, a fire burning her everywhere. When he placed a hand on her arm, she moaned instinctively and felt a small sense of instant relief.

He looked toward her, the vein on his jaw pulsing as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

"Are you sure?"

She grabbed his hand, shoving it lower as she nodded, pouting in frustration.

He took that as his sign and surged down toward her, pulling her deep into a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft but commanding, pulling gasps from her as he worked his tongue past her lips. He massaged at her tongue with his own and suckled on it lightly, before pulling back and nibbling on her bottom lip.

It was everything she needed and yet entirely not enough. Her hands roved over him desperately attempting to pull him impossibly closer.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, moving down to a spot behind her ear that had her moaning out loud.

He nipped at it gently, nuzzling against her hair while his hands moved over her underwear, pants long forgotten somewhere around them.

The Hunter slid his middle finger up and down her slit, putting pressure near the top where she needed more.

She whimpered with need, almost thrashing around from the overwhelming sensations that brought her relief while simultaneously being not enough. He chuckled at her neediness, and she felt a sense of embarrassment wash over her.

He kissed his way down past her collarbone, sliding her shirt off and baring her to him completely, he nipped at the side of her breast and continued downward.

As he peeled her underwear back his eyes sparkled at the sight of her glistening pussy. Groaning, his breath blew puffs of air onto her sensitive lips, causing her to clench around nothing.

Lowering his face to her core, he licked a tentative stripe up her slit. Moaning at the taste, he dove in like a man starved. Licking into her so enthusiastically, she could swear she saw stars.

Alternating between fucking her little hole with his tongue and sucking and nibbling at her sensitive clit, he had her writhing about in minutes.

Frankly, it was embarrassing.

"God... You taste heavenly."

"Shut up."

He grinned up at her like the Cheshire cat from his place between her legs, sending a shiver up her spine.

As his tongue continued its exploration of her, he added a finger, pumping in and out of her at a torturous pace. Her breathing got heavier, and the coil in her belly got tighter. Her fingers tugged at his hair, tangling in the strands. Pathetic mewls escaped her mouth.

"i-I'm close" She breathed, eyes rolling back.

"C'mon sweetheart, give it to me." He mumbled into her skin, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He added a second finger, scissoring them inside her and found a spongey little spot that made her let out a noise like a wounded animal. He huffed a laugh and continued bullying the spot relentlessly.

She saw stars as she crested over, a shiver running from the top of her head down to her toes. Even as the sensations got too much, he didn't let up.

She kicked at him, attempting to shove him off. But his mouth stayed plastered to her mound, licking and sucking and nipping indiscriminately.

His fingers did not stop their assault on her poor abused hole, still fucking into that little spot that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She felt an odd sensation building in her tummy.

"Wh-wait! It feels-"

She tried to push him off, but he shushed her and kept going. The feeling grew bigger and rolled higher, and she wailed as she felt her orgasm crash over her in violent waves, shaking her body and causing her to curl in on herself.

When the feeling finally subsided after what seemed like forever, she breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath.

It wasn't until he looked up from between her legs, beard wet and grin wide that she'd realised what had happened. She squirted.

She opened her mouth to apologise but another cramp hit her, and she knew her heat wasn't done.

He looked over her as if checking she was alright. He locked eyes with her and gave her a questioning look, she smiled back at him lazily and nodded.

Pulling her up, he looped his arms under her knees and shoulders, carrying her to his bed.

He wasted no time, lining himself up with her entrance. She got a proper look at him for the first time, and God, he was thick.

He was a good length, enough that she knew she'd feel him inside her for a bit. But his girth was ridiculous, so thick that she most certainly would not be able to wrap her hands around him fully.

A tingle of fear shot through her and she worried if he'd fit or rip her apart. As she looked into his eyes and saw the hunger in them, she decided that she didn't mind going out this way.

He pushed into her in one go, and she felt her breath stop in her throat. She could feel all of him just nestled past her entrance, the heat emanating from him elicited a low moan from her. The stretch was intense, the burn travelling through her nerves, but she could also feel the heat of the pleasure from him pressing against her walls so deliciously.

He let out a long exhale as if reigning himself in for a semblance of self-control. He tried to look into her eyes, before fixating on a spot just above her head, a faraway look in his eyes.

Once the crazed look in his eyes softened somewhat, he began to move, sawing in and out of her.

Each drag of his length in and out, had him grinding against her clit perfectly. She felt the trembles of pleasure all over her body, and a heat in her ears from the sensations.

His chest pressed against hers, creating a wonderful sensation against her erect nipples. She gasped at the feeling arching her back in chase of the contact.

He grinned at her, enjoying the way he was destroying her fully.

As her orgasm built up in the base of her spine, he could feel her clenching around him harder and more sporadically.

Picking up the pace, he drove into her harder and faster, drawing out sounds of uh, uh, uh from her lips.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, trapping him against her. Encouraged by the act, he brought his teeth to her ear and nibbled lightly, enough to have her driven mad by the slight pinch.

He brought his hand down between her legs and drew tight circles around her swollen bud.

That was the last thing she remembered before fireworks exploded beneath her eyelids, and she couldn't remember exactly when she had shut them.

An electrifying jolt shot through her and she felt the tingles all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

She clenched down on him, drawing a grunt and as she felt him tremble above her she also felt his warmth spread between her legs, filling her up as he let out a low groan into her ear.

The sound shot straight to her pussy. As she came back down, she felt the feeling return in her legs and the ringing in her ears faded.

She opened her eyes and found him lying next to her just watching. He had questions in his eyes now, though the desire had subsided somewhat, though not a lot.

So she explained how she came from a long line of people who weren't ever quite right. How they all seemed to become more animal than human when they got angry, and how regular human spouses never lasted very long in her family.

She told him about her uncle and the horrors that came with her family the empire they had built, the mess that became of it all now in the wake of his death.

Then finally, she could barely look him in the eye when she told him that what had just happened was her heat, and they were now mated and she could not leave him, even if she wanted to.

Finally, she avoided facing him at all when she rushed out in one breath that she might be with child, and her heat was far from over.

She waited, holding her breath for a reaction. But the silence stretched out, so she turned to face him, a weight settling on her shoulders.

But as she looked into his eyes, she saw some hope in them.

"I understand heats and mating, I'm more animal myself most days;" He started, offering her something of a comforting smile.

"I just never believed there were others like me out there."

He smiled at her warmly then, and she felt a sense of relief. They'd be alright.

[ennabear]

⭑ SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE ⋆˚ ༘ *

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ themes of jealousy, porn w/ plot, ellie is lowkey a bad gf (she makes up for it in the end i swear), hate sex w rockstar!ellie, dom!r, brat!ellie (heh, get it?), slapping + spanking, ruined orgasm, based on sympathy is a knife by charli xcx, somewhat projecting here because i’m an insecure overthinker oops, brat summer challenge entry for my oomfies, check out everyone else’s entries and consider joining the server!! fank yewwwwq!!! 18+

🍏 wc: 2.5k ++ divider creds

✮ don’t wanna see her backstage at my girlfriend’s show. ✮

the crowd was crushing you from all sides, a wave of sweaty, drunk strangers all packed tightly together. girls surrounding you were wearing short skirts and low-cut tops, all cheering for your girlfriend.

your girlfriend.

this was one of the cons of dating a rockstar, sure ellie made lots of money, sure you were her one and only muse, sure she only had eyes for you, didn’t she? but this enraged you, the way they all screamed at her like you weren’t even there. begging her to take her shirt off, play them a song, and especially the way she always followed their orders.

you sigh, turning around to squeeze to the back of the crowd, muttering a few ‘scuse me’s and ‘pardon’s. the smell of sweat and weed infects your lungs, causing you to cover your face with your elbow. stumbling over your feet, you finally land on a barstool, asking the bartender for a glass of ice water. ellie notices your absence, scanning the crowd for you, her gaze being met with thirsty glances all around.

the cool water soothes the rage boiling in your stomach ever so slightly. your heart is still pounding, hands shaking, feet tapping the floor. thoughts of self-hatred plague your mind at a million miles per hour, a wild voice that tears you completely apart…

“where the hell did you go?” ellie’s annoyed voice cuts through your mind. you jump.

“sorry,” you trail off. “i got too hot.”

“man… you should’ve seen the way those girls in the front row were screaming.” she beams, a glistening smile creeping up on her expression. “almost blew the fuckin’ roof off.”

you don’t respond to this, instead looking down into your drink and swirling the ice around with your straw. “you gonna come backstage?” she asks. “or sit here and pout.”

“i dunno, els. i’m kinda ti-” she cuts you off by pinching the apple of your cheek, grinning at you like you’re a trophy. a grammy, in her mind. “knew you’d say yes.”

another wave of rage crashes over you, a chill running down your spine. ellie’s tattooed hands grab your wrists, dragging you with her as if you’re a lost puppy. you don’t let it get to you though, letting it simmer as she drags you from the bar, and trying to ignore it once you slump onto the cracked leather couch.

maybe it’s just the sour mood you’re in, but the sudden change of environment makes your stomach churn. the paint chipping off of the walls makes your skin crawl, the lights surrounding the mirror are faded and yellow, the air in the room is stale and smells of body odor and piss. it’s uncomfortable all around.

ellie doesn’t notice this, of course. too lost in her own jabber about the show to pay any mind to you. a knock on the door halts your thoughts again. “ellie?” someone asks.

“yeah?” she calls back, throwing her shirt into her bag and lighting a cigarette.

“are ‘ya decent? i brought a few girls from the pit. they’re gonna kill me if you don’t open this door.”

your jaw falls open involuntarily. the audacity strikes you in your burning heart. the audacity. the audacity to shove other girls in ellie’s face while she barely even loves you.

once again, ellie pays no mind to this, swinging the door open and presenting her bare chest to the small group of girls peeking in from the hallway. your jaw clenches, you wish so badly she would say no for once. that she would forget about the fame and the money and take you on a god damn date.

in a moment of defeat, you cross your fingers behind your back. praying to some god, any god, that this moment ends soon. and with your luck, it doesn’t. you’re cramped in this small, crappy room, watching the love of your life converse with girls who are so much prettier than you.

and they’re so much prettier. they all have silky hair that cascades down their backs and and finishes with a little curl. expensive earrings and bracelets, full faces of completely untouched makeup, not even a single smudge or stain. shoes that cost more than your house, perfume that smells better than the bouquets of flowers ellie used to buy for you. you couldn’t even be them if you tried.

laughter breaks out between ellie and the girls. she nudges you in the side as a hint to start laughing along, but you bite your lip and look down, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. you can’t hear anything, so jealous you feel like you might faint.

ellie smiles and stands up, patting you on the knee as she does. you don’t follow, instead watching through blurred vision as she ushers the girls out of the door. tears fall from your eyes and you grimace, holding your head in your hands and starting to sob.

“do you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing in anger. you don’t respond. you can’t. how are you supposed to tell her you’ve been spiraling because she’s been eye-fucking other girls? when she hasn’t even kissed you in days? and when was the last time she said i love you? why hasn’t she noticed?

“hello?” she shouts. “what the fuck is going on with you? why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“why haven’t i been talking to you? i don’t know, maybe because you’re too busy feeling up other girls in front of me?” you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your eyeliner is streaming down your face, and suddenly your band tee and jeans feel improper.

“when’s the last time you’ve asked me about my day, ellie? i talk to you all the time. i help you write songs, i listen to you talk about your gigs, i clean your ass up when you come home drunk out of your mind.” you trail off, looking up at her to see a broken, almost confused look.

“you can’t at least pretend to appreciate the things i do for you?” she scowls, cornering you in the small dressing room. “you can’t even grit your teeth and fucking lie in front of my band? in front of my friends? i work my ass off providing for both of us and i don’t even get a thank you?”

“you don’t mean it…” you sob, absolutely sure that anyone outside of this room can hear the screaming match between you two. ellie scowls, your favorite green eyes are no longer soft and reassuring, but instead sharp. dangerous, almost.

“why do i have to share the space, ellie? did i do something wrong? did i-” you’re cut off by the door slamming shut. the mirror rattles behind you, shaking your reflection for a second.

what do you do now, sit here and cry? or will that only make it worse? a knock on the door soothes your racing heart. “you okay in there?” it was ellie’s assistant, the same guy who rounded up those girls earlier. “i- yeah?” your voice shakes as you answer. you go so cold.

he enters the room, sitting on the chair next to you. “we’re packing up the busses. you’d better hurry up before we leave you here.” how could you be mad at him? some sweet old guy who cares about you more than ellie does. you pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to form. “i don’t know if i belong here anymore.”

the comfort isn’t much, but you’ll take what you can get right now. you let a few tears fall, tear ducts already exhausted and drained. “don’t cry, kiddo. you’re both still young, she’s just going through something right now.”

somehow, this makes it worse. your cheeks heat up, that same anger stirring in your veins. “cmon, let me walk you out before they forget us both.” he laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exit through the back of the building.

ellie is waiting for you in her bus, wearing an old beat up tank top and some sweats. she refuses to meet your eyes, her newly reformed ego letting her think that she’s too good to give an apology. you quickly change clothes, replacing your band tee with a sports bra and scrubbing off your smudged eyeliner.

she comes up behind you as you wash your face, completely ignoring you as she picks up a pair of scissors and starts snipping at her shaggy hair. the bathroom suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in on you. “so you’re still too good for an apology?” you ask.

“sorry.” she mumbles monotonously.

you turn and look at her. no, you glare at her. the attitude she’s had lately is almost jarring. here your once sweet, loving girlfriend stands. neglecting you for months, complaining to her friends about you, making you cry, embarrassing you in front of everyone she knows. this isn’t like her at all.

that rage boils up inside of you again. red-hot, vicious anger that scorches your insides and washes over you like a violent midnight hurricane. before you can even think, the palm of your hand is smacking her at lightning speed. her jaw falls open involuntary, eyes piercing into you.

that felt good. so, so good. you wiped that smug off of her face real quick. with your hand still raised, you grab her by the neck of her shirt— ripping a hole into the thin, flimsy fabric— and bend her over the sink.

“this’s how you wanna treat me, huh?” you laugh, out of exhaustion or relief, you aren’t sure. her pants slip off as soon as you tug them down, palming her bush beneath her boxers before you snag them off too.

“i- i’m…” she stammers. “i’m sorr-!!” you cut her off, pulling her back by the roots of her hair.

“i’ll show you how it fucking feels.” you punctuate this by sending your hand down to slap her ass, leaving a glowing red handprint on her pale skin. she grips the sink, whining loudly at the smack but deciding not to talk back, she might make it worse.

“that hurt?” you tease, rubbing over the area you hit. ellie bites her lip, not wanting to admit that it stung. she heaves a sigh, muttering a quick no.“no? not yet? guess we’ll have to go harder.” you smirk evilly. she gasps at this, but it’s too late. now she’s wincing at the slap, back arching into you as you palm at her ass.

“please!!” she begs. “i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!!” tears roll down her face, she looks just as pathetic as you did back in that dressing room. “what would those other girls think if they saw you like this right now?”

she doesn’t answer, instead her cheeks turn a bright beet red. one of your hands lifts her head up by her hair, angling her face to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. she can’t help but gawk at her expression, tears rolling down her face, lips pink and sore from being chewed on.

“one more? or are you gonna apologize now.” her lips pull back into a grimace at the thought of getting another smack from one of your heavy hands.

“i’m sorry.” she admits shyly. “i’ve been an asshole. i’m sorry and i mean it.” you slide two fingers into her dripping hole as she spews out her apology. she groans, gripping onto your wrist that just released itself from her scalp.

the pleasure soon overtakes the pain, and the stinging of her ass goes almost numb as your fingers reach deeper than ever. her lips quiver as she tries to hold back her moans, cunt practically sucking your fingers in.

her eyes roll back into her head as you pound into her, slick dripping down your fingers and wrist. she looks pathetic like this. now her own makeup is smudged and runny, she’s the one begging for forgiveness. “ohh, god, please!! right there.” she sputters, eyebrows furrowing as she gets closer and closer to finishing.

it doesn’t take much to please her, with two fingers massaging her g-spot and your teeth in her neck, she’s about to cum her brains out. she doesn’t, though. as soon as you notice the telltale twitch of her thighs, you pull your fingers out. she groans at the loss, cunt squeezing and clenching, desperately trying to get off without you.

“is that how you like it now? being neglected and completely left in the dark?” her head shakes, she wants to scream at you for ruining this for her, but she knows deep down that she deserves it. “keep going, please. i swear i’ll be so good. isweariswearisw-” you yawn, helping her pull her boxers back on.

“i dunno, ellie. i’m not sure you deserve it yet.” you sigh. “plus, i’m kinda sleepy.” once she’s dressed, you turn to leave. sliding the door shut behind you and flopping onto the small bed in the back of the trailer.

ellie takes a second to sit and think, and now she really realizes what she’s done. that her ego and crave for fame has gotten in the way of her love. as soon as your hands left her body, it was like she could feel herself losing you in real time.

the faucet squeaks as she turns the handle, splashing some cold water on her cheeks, and it mixes with her tears. what if you leave her? what if you leave her and it’s her fault? what if you showed her countless signs that you were feeling unloved and she completely ignored it? did she do that? now it’s her turn to spiral, to fall down the rabbit hole of insecurity and have to claw herself out with no support at all.

her body is starting to overheat, she peels her sweaty shirt off and throws it in front of her, soothing herself with the cold tile on the floor. she realizes how distant she’s been, how much she’s taken you for granted. maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

a few painful minutes later, she exits the bathroom and lays down beside you, curling into your side and sighing heavily. you can sense her unpleasant mood, but you still don’t really feel bad for her. not after how she’s made you feel.

and then she sits up and she kisses you for the first time in months. a real kiss, not a peck or a bite. her lips press against yours, she tastes the same, sweet and a little bit throaty. soft lips roam around yours, remembering how it feels to be intimate in such a way. to be loved. “i’m sorry.” she whispers on top of your lips. “i really am. do i get another chance?”

maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

[rinsoap]

THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!

includes : ken ryuguji and baji keisuke. they are in their late teens/early 20s.

note : UR WELCOME TO THE FOURTEEN REQS IN MY INBOX BEGGING FOR BAJI CONTENT! i was gonna write mitsuya and mikey but i got tired lol

ken ryuguji as your boyfriend.

he loves taking you out on his bike. he likes how you hold him so tightly, and he likes the feeling of your cheek pressed against his back. when you first asked him, he was a little wary at first because he was kind of scared you might get hurt, but who was he to say no to his girl?

the girls at the brothel fucking love you. you exchange makeup tips and self care remedies, they pinch your cheek and tell you how cute you are. "hi love, what are you doing here looking so pretty!? ain't she pretty, kenny? yeahh he thinks so, look at him, he's blushing" "'course i think she's pretty, i'm the one dating her" oh and they love to give you life advice too; men, money, independance, all of it. draken is embarassed by how they act, but you think it's sweet.

he hates being posted to your socials. he's cool with it if his face isn't in the picture, but he values his privacy. his own social media presence is practically nonexistent, other than one highlight with one story from your birthday of you holding flowers he got you. the song he posted to you is my girl by the temptations.

though he likes his privacy, he does like pda. not intense pda, it's not like y'all have your tongues down each other's throats in public or anything, but he likes a lil kiss here n there. his arm around your waist, or your fingers intertwined with his. a kiss on your shoulder, and always one on your lips before you part. and while he doesn’t typically like to make a scene, when he misses you its a whole different story. he loves when you run to him when you see him after being away from each other for far too long, throwing your arms around his shoulders and his wrap around your waist to spin you around, peppering the side of your face with kisses as you tell him how much you missed him through giggles. "missed you too, angel," a kiss on your jaw. "i'm sorry i've been so busy lately," a kiss on your cheek "'m gonna make it up to you though, i promise." a kiss on your lips. yeah, it's that kind of pda.

he will call you so many pet names, it's not even funny. they're out of his mouth before he even realizes it. it's not like he hides his loving side exactly, it's just that with you, he gets to be a whole other type of gushy. his friends make fun of him whenever they get a glimpse of his softer side when he speaks to you, but he does not care!!! he'll never stop calling you his pretty princess or kissing your cheek or holding all your bags when you go shopping just because his friends think he's whipped. he would happily admit that they're right!!

baji keisuke as your boyfriend.

he may come across as cold, but make no mistake, physical touch is his love language. he always finds himself gravitating to touching you, even in public. whether he's holding your hand or resting his head on your shoulder or tracing hearts and stars into the skin of your thigh, he just wants to touch you!!! in private, it is so much more egregious. he'll be on top of you, attacking you with kisses, hands roaming over your skin. he loves when you sleep over because then he can extend his time to cuddle with you. he likes little spoon and big spoon equally, he just wants SOMEONE to be held!!!

he has and will fight someone for you, absolutely no question. he doesn't exactly get jealous, you express how much you love him enough for him to have interalized it, but he does let a threat or two slip out when a man's flirting with you right in front of him. when someone is being creepy to you, yes, he has been known to throw a couple punches. he'll stop when you ask!! its not like he's batshit!!!! when he's finished, you tend to his wounds. muttering about how stupid he is but giving him a kiss to his temple.

he knows how obsessed you are with his hair. he watches you from the corner of his eye, staring lip tucked between your teeth as he puts it up. he complains, but he secretly loves it. "man you treat me like some slut" "true i'm just using you for your hair. one day you'll wake up bald and i'll be half way across the country with a ziploc bag full of your beautiful hair" "i hate you" he loves lying on top of you, cheek pressed against your chest as you run your fingers through your hair. he always ends up mumbling how much he loves you when your fingers find their way into his hair. he also lets you play around with different hairstyles too! his favourite will always be a half up half down moment :p

he calls you bro more than actual pet names tbh. generally, he doesn't use a lot of pet names because he'd rather call you by your name, but when he's being extra sweet or when he's tired, he'll use them. you love how cute he is when he's about to fall asleep, he starts going on and on about how much he loves his pretty girl. "soo sweet to me, love you soo much... my lovely girl... my love" he'll whisper into your neck, not even knowing exactly what he's saying himself as his eyes slowly flutter shut. when he's in a good mood he'll greet you with a lil "hey baby" or "hello perfect beautiful girlfriend" bc he's annoying like that 😞

he can ALWAYS tell when something is wrong. a clench of your jaw or a slight falter in your eyes, he immediately knows. he'll ask about it as soon as he picks up on it. he's surprisingly very good at comforting. he'll listen as long as you need him to, he'll give you a temple kiss, a gesture that quickly became a sign of love and understanding in your relationship. he'll kiss you on one, then the other, and add "to ease your mind." and you laugh because it's corny, and he rolls his eyes and claims he's never doing a nice thing for you again, but he grabs your hand to take you out to eat because he knows food is the best comfort.

[ecemf]

And the Award Goes To... // A Carmen Berzatto Fanfic

18+!! MDNI!!

A/N: When this year started I definitely did not foresee myself writing not only one but two depraved fanfics both about hooking up in award ceremony bathrooms... but here we are.

This one actually took so long and I don't even really know if I like it but I hope y'all enjoy it. Big cheating vibes so if you're not into that don't read. Ok thanks bye!

Summary: As a writer for Vogue, you've been assigned to cover The James Beard Awards this year. This would be great, as your boyfriend is a nominee, if it weren't for the fact that your toxic ex was also nominated for the same goddamn award...

Warnings: cheating, smut, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it guys), choking, dom/sub dynamics, bit of degradation, porn with lots of plot, asshole boyfriend, asshole carmy, no usage of y/n

WC: ~5.8k

Enjoy!!

Nerves. That’s all you’ve been feeling this entire week.

When your boss had told you in October that you were assigned to cover the James Beard Awards you were elated. Partially because, you know, it was the goddamn James Beard Awards, but mostly because it would be your first major story at Vogue. You had been a writer for their Food column for a few months at that point, and while it wasn’t exactly as you had imagined it while writing it over and over in your manifestation journal, it wasn’t bad, and you were sure you could work your way up. This story was a chance for you to do so, so why would you pass it up?

What you didn’t know when you accepted the assignment weeks before the nominations came out, was that your new boyfriend, Alex Moore, would be nominated for Best Chef in the Midwest. This wouldn’t have been a problem- in fact quite the opposite -if it weren’t for the fact that your toxic ex who you hadn’t seen in ages was nominated for The Same. Damn. Award.

Now it’s May, and the dreaded day has arrived. You finish applying your vampy lipstick with a shaky hand as you hear Alex yell for you from downstairs. You two have been together for about 10 months now, and it’s been great. Alex is good; he’s stable. Sure he’s a bit egotistical and barely has any free time, but he’s a chef, aren’t they all that way? Alex talks about the future with you, he always calls when he’s tied up at the restaurant, he tells you he loves you.

He’s nothing like your ex, which is a good thing. You think. You love him. You think.

You rush down the stairs with your red Louboutins click-clacking on each wooden step. The shoes had been a six-month anniversary gift from Alex, who apparently didn’t know that anniversary means year. Your boyfriend came from old money which he loved to throw around, especially when it came to spoiling you. He had also purchased the dress you were wearing that night. It wasn’t something you would pick out, but it was nice. Simple and sexy without showing much skin.

“Finally,” he sighs, seeing you make it to the bottom of the stairs, “You look great in that dress. Shoes are a nice touch.”

“Thanks baby,” you say, approaching him where he stands by the counter, “You look hot,”

You go to give him a kiss but he puts his hand up before your lips can reach him, “Hey! Watch it!” He scolds, “I don’t want red lipstick marks all over me when I accept my award tonight, so you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants, nympho,”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, one that he gave you a few weeks into living together. Alex thinks it’s crazy that you want to have sex once (if not maybe two or three times) a day. He’s nothing like your ex.

—

When you arrive at the awards ceremony, your heart is racing. You had been squeezing Alex’s hand like a lifeline the entire ride there; he chalked it up to you being nervous about the work aspect of tonight.

You weave through people hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, saying hello to those you recognized, being introduced to those you didn’t. Currently, you were becoming acquainted with the sommelier from some new fusion place. Alex knew him from college. Or from when he did his training in Belgium? You aren't sure, you weren’t really listening. The only thing you’re focused on tonight is avoiding a very specific nominee. You hope you don’t seem too distracted in this (very boring) conversation.

“I’m gonna go find our seats,” you say to Alex, excusing yourself from the hellish small-talk, “It was great to meet you,” you say to- actually, you never caught her name.

As you saunter through the rows of tables, scanning each place card for you and your lover’s names, you try to calm yourself down. “No sign of him yet,” you think, “Maybe he won’t even come. That would be just like him, not showing up.”

Finally, you find the place card reading “Alex Moore”, but when you look at the table setting next to it, it’s empty. You glance around the table- maybe it blew off the plate? As you scan the surrounding area, you grow a bit concerned. Did they forget to put your name out? Were you even supposed to be there? You had no trouble getting in at the door, but-

“Looking for this?”

You freeze. Of fucking course he found your seat before you could.

You turn on your stiletto to see no one other than your ex-boyfriend, Carmen Berzatto, Executive Chef of The Bear. He stares back at you with your place card between his two fingers like a cigarette. Fitting.

“Please give that back,” you say, doing your best to seem unfazed by his presence.

“Wow,” he responds in mock-offense, “That’s the hello I get after all this time? C’mon, Jig,”

You wince at the nickname. You and Carmen had met while you were bartending in college. He was a regular at your bar, and you were a bright-eyed bushy-tailed 21-year-old hoping to make it as a food writer in the big city. You two bonded over your love of food, and would trade recommendations back and forth for different spots around town. You were the only bartender out of the whole staff who used a jigger (was no one else worried about their ratios??), so before he knew your name he would just call you Jigger, which then got shortened to Jig. Even after he finally asked for your name (and number), and even throughout your 3-year relationship (if you could even call it that), he still called you Jig more than your actual name.

“Hello Carmen,” you reply with a tight smile, extending your hand, “May I please have my place card for my seat?” You ask again.

As he opens his mouth to respond, you hear Alex calling out for you, “Babe!” He quickly walks over to where you and Carmen stand, “Hey, you found our seats?” He turns to look at Carmen, “Hey man, good to see you!” He embraces the chef, and takes a step back, looking at the place card in his hand, “Why do you have my girlfriend’s name in your hand?”

You panic. “Ummm… Carmen here found it on the ground, and he was kind enough to pick it up and come find me with it,” You (not so kindly) snatch the white paper out from between his fingers, “thank you again,” You hope your tone makes it clear that you want him to walk away.

“Find you…” Alex looks between the two of you, obviously confused, “Sorry, do you two know each other?” Shit.

Carmen looks at you, amused. You didn’t tell your boyfriend about him.

“Yeah!” You say, a little too enthusiastically, “Um yeah! I erm, I interviewed Carmen about The Bear for that article a few months back, remember honey?”

Alex looks back at you and thinks for a second. “Oh right, I remember that article,”

You never wrote an article about The Bear.

“And how could I forget such a face,” Carmen chimes in. You try to give him a warning with your eyes, and he seems to receive it when he says, “Well, it’s good to see you both, I should go find my place card this time. Good luck out there tonight, Alex,” He pats your boyfriend on the bicep.

“Hey, you too, man,” Alex responds, grinning. As Carmen walks away, he leans down to you and whispers not-so-discreetly, “He’ll need it,”

You try to ignore the comment as the two of you sit down. Your boyfriend was a good chef, a great chef even, but Carmen was better. When you read through the nominations all those months ago, you knew he would win tonight. As someone who had watched the man in his element, there was no doubt in your mind: Carmen would take home the award.

As people continue to mingle and find their seats, you take a glance around the room. The reception hall was huge, there had to be at least a thousand people in the building. Which is why it’s so painfully ironic that Carmen’s seat is in direct eye-line with yours. As you continue to survey your surroundings, his icy blue eyes meet yours. He was staring at you with a familiar look in his eye, and you try to ignore the knots it was tying your stomach into. You quickly look away, turning your attention back to Alex. He turns to look at you, and you go to give him a quick peck, forgetting your conversation from earlier. He once again stops you, rearing his head back to avoid your lips (or your lipstick, rather, so he claims).

“Sorry, I forgot,” you say dejectedly to your boyfriend, who looks at you like you just tried to stab him, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quickly before they get started,” you tell him, touching his arm.

“Okay, my speech won’t be until later in the ceremony, so no rush babe,” your ever so confident man responds.

You grab your purse as you head out of the large room, searching for the bathroom. You wish you could find an usher…

“Looking for the restroom?” Asks a young man in a suit. You nod. “It’s-“

“I can show her,” you hear from behind you as someone takes your arm, and before you know it, Carmen is leading you down the hall.

You quickly pull back from him, “Would you leave me alone?” You say quietly, hoping no one is watching or hearing this, “I am trying to work and enjoy my night, okay? You should do the same,” you start down the hallway again, alone this time.

“Alright…” Carmen says behind you, “the bathroom isn’t that way, just so you know.”

You stop, and turn to face him again, “So then where the fuck were you taking me?” You ask, exasperated.

“Well, if you would let me show you…” Carmen looks at you expectantly.

You stare back at him silently, and finally allow yourself to actually look at him. He looks good. Like, really good. Carmen never dresses up, but when he does, good lord he’s a sight for sore eyes. You indulge, ogling at the way his black dress shirt sits taught against his strong chest. Even under the thick suit he has on, you can see his strong arms. Those arms that used to hold you, throw you around, flip you over, help you bounce up and down on-

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Carmen says sarcastically, obviously noticing what you were doing.

You ignore his comment and his noticing, “if I follow you to this mystery place will you leave me alone tonight?”

“Is that really what you want?” Carmen responds with a certain edge to his voice. An edge you recognize. An edge you miss.

You gulp. “Yes,” you say quietly.

“You were always a bad liar,” Carmen mutters, walking past you down the hall, “c’mon, Jig,” he says for the second time tonight.

—

After a few more hallways and a flight of stairs, you and Carmen arrive on the roof of the building. As soon as you’re outside, the blonde pulls out a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one as his hangs out of his mouth.

“No thanks, I quit,” you say, putting your hand up.

“Well look at you, changed woman,” He jokes as he lights his cigarette, “Old Money Moore wasn’t into it?”

You roll your eyes at the jab at your boyfriend, “For your information, I quit before me and Alex even met,” you look down at your shoes and shiver a bit in the evening air, “why are we up here, Carmen?”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

“Stop calling you your name?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. You never used to call me that,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, “I mean, unless we were fighting,”

“So most of the time, actually,” You respond, humorlessly.

“Did we spend most of our time fighting?” The man looks you up and down as he continues to smoke, “As I recall we spent most of our time fucking,” he exhales.

You bring your fingers to your temples, “Oh my God, get to the point,” you glance down at your phone, “the ceremony’s going to start soon, and I really don’t want to miss anything,” you say. And you mean it - you have a goddamn article to write!

“Is he gay?” Carmen smirks at you.

“W- what? Is who gay? What are you talking about?”

“Your ‘boyfriend’,” he makes air-quotes around the word, “Alex, is he gay?”

You have half a mind to just turn around and head back to the ceremony, but you don’t. You’re not sure why. Yes you are.

“Firstly, he is my boyfriend. No need for the air quotes, asshole,” You start, annoyed that you’re even having this stupid conversation, “secondly, no, he is not gay. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a woman, and we’re in a relationship, so,”

“Oh I’ve noticed,” Carmen says, raking his eyes up and down your body, “I was just asking because I watched him refuse to kiss you earlier,” he throws his cigarette on the concrete ground, stubbing it out with his foot, “and any man who refuses to kiss a woman who looks like you, well, I just have to assume he probably isn’t into women,”

Your face goes hot. Half from the embarrassment, half from arousal. Boy was he laying it on thick. You clear your throat and meet his eyes, which you had been avoiding doing since the two of you got alone.

“Not that it’s really any of your business,” you start, narrowing your eyes at Carmen, “but he asked me not to kiss him so that I wouldn’t get lipstick on him for when he-“ you cut yourself off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds out loud.

Carmen chuckles, staring into your soul. You avert your eyes.

“When he what, baby?” He asks, coyly.

“Don’t call me that,” you say sternly. Or at least try to.

Carmen starts walking towards you, slowly. He backs you up against the wall behind you until there’s only a few inches of space between the two of you. You still avoid meeting his eyes.

“Jig, look at me,” he says quietly, and you obey, finally locking eyes with him. He moves even closer to you and puts his hand on the wall above you, caging you in, “he doesn’t want your lipstick on him for when he does what?” Your faces are so close he’s almost whispering. God, you wish he would leave you alone. No you don’t.

“For when he wins the award tonight…” you say, barely loud enough for Carmen to hear. But he obviously does, as he hangs his head and laughs. The tops of his curls nearly touch your nose. You stare up at the sky again, half from embarrassment, half from arousal. He was so goddamn close. You could smell him.

He lifts his head, still chuckling a bit, “that dumbass thinks he’s going to win the award tonight?” He asks you in disbelief, “like seriously?”

You knew Carmen would win the award, there was no doubt about it, but he was being a major asshole. A sexy asshole, but it was a bit much.

“Carmy-” You go to tell him it wouldn’t be impossible for Alex to win, but you freeze when the nickname slips out of your mouth. He smiles devilishly at you.

“There it is,” he says with that shit-eating grin on his face, “say it again,” he whispers, getting his mouth dangerously close to yours.

“Stop it,” you whisper back. His nose nudges yours and you turn your head to the side.

“What’s my name baby?” Carmy murmurs as he ghosts his lips up and down your neck, “Say it again, sweet girl,” he pulls the neckline of your dress to the side and bites down.

“Carmy,” You whine. You grip his shirt, trying to find something to ground you as your ex-boyfriend sucks a mark into your collarbone, “please, I can’t,”

“But you want to,” he smirks as he continues kissing your neck, your insides becoming molten lava, “Alex doesn’t need to worry about your lipstick on his face, baby. You know why?” He pulls back and looks you in your eyes, already glazed-over and needy, “because I’m gonna win that goddamn award,” he grips your waist as he pulls you tightly to him and whispers in your ear, “and then I’m gonna fuck his girlfriend while I wear it.”

You try to catch your breath as he releases you and your back hits the wall. Carmen takes his thumb and runs it over your bottom lip. You think he’s going to put it in your mouth, but he just wipes a bit of the lipstick off of it. You watch in lustful amazement as he then takes the red pigment and rubs it on his neck underneath his collar. He pushes off the wall and without a word leaves you standing up on the roof, alone, soaking through your underwear.

—

“Jeez, did you fall in?” Alex says quietly as you shimmy into your seat. You had missed the beginning of the ceremony. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed,” he rests a hand on your thigh and you give him a small smile.

“Yeah, sorry, you know women’s bathroom lines…” you say through tight lips, hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Your prayers are answered when your boyfriend simply nods and turns back to the presenters. You turn to see Carmy staring holes through you, with that stupid goddamn smirk on his face. You take a deep breath and try to return your attention to the stage.

—

You sit through a handful of awards and speeches, and finally it comes to the “Best Chef” section of the night. Up first: Midwest. AKA: Your Boyfriend vs. Your Ex. Your heart races as you watch the presenter give a speech about the award and the nominees. He reads off all of the names of the nominees, and your palms sweat as you rest a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

The room is quiet as the announcer says, “And the James Beard Award goes to…”

You inhale.

“…Carmen Berzatto of The Bear!”

You exhale.

Alex curses under his breath and clenches his fists. You try to rub his back but for the third time tonight, he pushes you away. You sit quietly with your hands in your lap as Carmen takes the stage. God, why does he look so good even in stage lighting?

Carmen walks up to the microphone after having the medal placed on him by the presenter.

“Wow. Um, I’d like to thank my team first and foremost, I wouldn’t be able to achieve anything without them. I’d erm, I’d like to specifically thank Sydney Adamu, my sous chef and partner. She really should be the one up here, but I guess I’ll take it,” The crowd laughs along with him, “I’m really grateful for this award and anyone who’s ever eaten at The Bear. Thank you.” He looks dead into your eyes and grabs the medal as he ends his speech, “I can’t wait to wear this thing!”

Everyone laughs except for you, whose face goes beet red. Luckily the lights are dim enough for it not to be an issue, but you can hear the blood pumping in your ears. You turn your attention back to Alex, whose ears had apparently had steam coming out of them for the past two minutes.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters, “that was supposed to be my award. After all the fucking money my parents donated to this foundation? What a joke.”

You pretend you don’t hear your boyfriend whining like a spoiled brat, “Are you okay?” You ask sweetly, “It’s just an award baby, it doesn’t really mean anything,” you try to replace your hand on his shoulder but he swats it away. Hard.

“Jesus can you not touch me for like five fucking seconds?” He says, pretty loudly, considering they’re in the middle of presenting the Best Chef Northeast award. You look up to see if anyone heard and see Carmy coming down the steps of the stage, clenching his jaw as he watches the interaction. You hold your stinging hand and excuse yourself to the restroom before your tears of anger can spill over.

As you stand in the mirror, dabbing your eyes before any more tears can fall, you hear the bathroom door creak open and the deadbolt turn. Behind you in the mirror appears who else but Carmen fucking Berzatto, wearing that stupid fucking James Beard Award. You stare at him through the mirror, silently.

“Well, aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” He says, walking towards you. You turn around to face him, “C’mon, Jig, nothing?”

You stare at Carmen. You watch the way he stares back. All of today’s events race through your head. All the times your boyfriend rejected you, dismissed you, ignored you. Those moments on the roof, the adrenaline you felt, Carmy’s words ringing through your mind.

“and then I’m gonna fuck his girlfriend while I wear it.”

You reach out and grab the medal on his chest and use it to pull him into you. It’s intense off the bat, a mix of teeth tongue and lips, hands frantically grasping at each other. Carmy grips your neck and your waist as you lace your fingers through his curls and give a tug that earns you a soft moan. You begin kissing down his neck, leaving dark red lipstick marks all over. You push his sport coat off his shoulders and begin undoing the buttons at the top of his shirt.

“Eager, are we?” Carmen teases, helping you in removing his shirt.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Bear,” you respond, bringing his mouth back to yours.

“Mmm,” Carmen pulls away, “what happened to my good girl who used to beg so politely?”

“She only gets fucked once every two weeks so she’s kind of impatient right now,” you say as you continue to place kisses all over Carmy’s upper body and palm at his erection.

“Hold the fuck-“ Carmy pushes you off of him and looks at you with shock on his face, “that asshole only fucks you twice a month??”

You look back at him in all of his glory. His curls messy from your hands, his sculpted form covered in your lipstick marks, his pupils blown, his dick, well, huge. Why did you ever give this up?

“He just doesn’t have a high sex drive he says,” you shrug, putting your hands back onto him, “I don’t really wanna talk right now, Carmy,”

“Does he at least eat you out first?” He looks genuinely perplexed and frightened by this information. How could someone have this masterpiece of a woman under their roof and not be ravaging her at least once a day?

“I asked you to fuck me, not make me laugh, Berzatto,” you deadpan back at the man, “seriously, now you know how much I need this, so please,”

“Oh you need it bad, baby,” Carmen says as he turns you around to face the mirror. He begins unzipping your dress ever so slowly, leaving kisses across every inch of your back. You step out of your dress, left only in your matching bra and underwear along with your red Louboutins. “Turn around,” Carmy orders.

You do so. You look at Carmy through your lashes, feeling equally exposed and terrifyingly aroused. The man growls underneath his breath, just staring at you.

“What a fucking idiot,” he says, before picking you up and placing you on the countertop, “doesn’t fucking realize what he has, rich fucking asshole,” Carmy mutters more nasty things about your boyfriend as he pulls your panties down your legs. He smells the soaked fabric before putting them in the pocket of his trousers. He pulls your legs open and groans loudly. “Jesus, baby, is all this for me?” He runs a finger through your soaked folds, collecting some of your arousal which had been building since you first saw him hours ago.

You squirm atop the counter as Carmy just toys with you. He stares at your vagina with amazement, like it’s a piece of art. Finally, he dives in, licking a flat stripe from your entrance to your clit. You gasp loudly. One of your hands flies to grip onto the counter top while the other finds purchase in the golden curls currently perched between your thighs.

It’s just as good as you remember it. That’s the problem, always has been. The sex is so goddamn good. It’s what kept you crawling back every time Carmen would hurt you for 3 long years. You hated your past self for always giving in, but right now, you understood her completely.

Carmy swirled his tongue around your clit as he inserted two thick fingers into your entrance, curling them just right. The stretch was like nothing else. You let out a beautiful noise, causing him to groan into your pussy, the vibrations adding to the delicious stimulation. You clenched around his fingers as he continued his ministrations, feeling that familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.

“You gonna give me one?” Carmy says, looking up at you with a soaked face and hungry eyes, “You gonna come all over my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, Carmy, yes, oh my god,” you babble, feeling so close, “please don’t stop baby,”

Carmen raises to his feet while continuing to finger you. He pulls you closer to him, leaning into your ear. “Does that feel good, princess?”

As you moan uncontrollably as you muster a “yes feels good,” but you know the questioning won’t end there.

“Yeah baby?” Carmen adds a third finger and you squeal, “how good does it feel?”

“God it feels so good please don’t stop,”

“Who’s making you feel this good, sweet girl?” He continues to whisper into your ear.

“You Carmy, it’s always you,” you respond breathily, the coil in your stomach moments from snapping.

“Say it again,” Carmen growls.

“Carmy oh my god-“ and with that your vision blanks. Your legs shake as you come harder than you have since… well since the last time you fucked Carmy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues his movements, prolonging your orgasm.

You grip onto his strong shoulders as you come down, resting your forehead against his as he removes his fingers from you.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, as you watch him stick all three fingers into his mouth and suck off your residue. You watch familiarly as he gathers spit in his mouth and grabs your jaw. Knowing the routine, you gladly open your mouth, as he spits in the mixture of the two of you. You moan as you taste yourself mixed with Carmen.

“Swallow,” he demands, holding your throat. And you do. “There’s my good girl,” he says, undoing his belt with one hand, “thought I lost you there, baby,”

You hum contentedly as he continues to hold you by your throat while he pulls his cock out of his pants and boxers. You moan at the sight of the state of it. Veins bulging, tip bright red and leaking, and, well, huge.

Carmen pumps himself a few times before saying, “take your bra off,” letting go of your throat to opt for one of your newly free breasts, “love these fucking tits, god.”

You squeeze your legs together as he strokes himself while playing with your nipples. It’s hot, but you need more. Now.

“Carmy, please,” you said, making your sweetest eyes at him, “I need you so bad,”

“You gonna beg me baby?” He responds with that stupid grin on his face.

“I’ll do anything,” you say, disregarding your pride (and your boyfriend).

“Is that right, angel?” He asks, caressing your face as you nod, lowering his voice, “you’ll do anything for this dick?” He continues stroking it as he looks into your eyes, “you need to get fucked so badly that you’re in here begging me for my cock while your boyfriend’s in the other room. Didn’t realize you were such a slut, baby,”

Your pussy throbs as Carmen continues to taunt you, “yes, I’ll do anything please,” you’re truly so desperate at this point, “please just give me your cock Carmy,”

“Say it,”

“Say what?” You ask, genuinely confused.

“Say you’re my slut,”

You gulp. “I- I’m your slut,”

“And why are you a slut?”

“B-because I’m in here begging for your cock when my boyfriend’s right outside…”

“And why are you begging me for my cock when you have a boyfriend?”

Okay this interrogation was getting old.

“Because it’s so much better, Carmy, please just give me your dick haven’t I been good?”

“You’ve been so good, baby,” Carmy says as he pries open your thighs and buries himself inside of you.

You yelp at the intrusion, not expecting himself to push himself in to the hilt on the first stroke.

Carmen lifts up your right leg and puts it over his shoulder. Then the left. He watches as your tits bounce while you half-lay on the countertop. You watch as his medal bounces on his chest with each thrust. He notices.

“You like that baby?” He asks, snaking a hand down to rub circles on your clit, “you like getting fucked by the best chef in the midwest?”

“Yes Carmy, fuck, just like that,” you moan out, “best dick in the midwest,” you say, somewhat jokingly.

Carmen half-laughs half-growls at the comment, “that’s fucking right, baby, best dick you’ll ever have. That’s why you keep coming back, right? That’s why you’re in here cheating on your stupid fucking boyfriend? Yeah?” With that last comment, he delivers a slap to your clit, causing you to scream and your pussy to clamp down around him.

“Fuck always so tight, princess, always so good for me,” Carmy babbles, getting lost inside of you, “this is my pussy. No one else’s. Say it.”

“It’s- fuck!” You yell as Carmen adjusts his angle, now hitting your G-spot over and over, “It’s your pussy Carmy, fuck! It belongs to you, I belong to you, oh my God don’t stop, please!”

It seems like Carmy misheard you as he stops fucking you and pulls you down off the counter top and kisses you ferociously. He grabs at your ass and you whine at the loss of him inside of you.

“Hold on baby, I’ve got you,” he says against your lips, “just need to do something,” he says, as he lifts off his medal and places it around your neck. You look up at him, confused. “Turn around,” he says, darkly.

You turn around to look at yourself in the mirror. There’s a red mark around your neck from where Carmen was gripping you, your updo from earlier is now mostly down, your chest is littered with small hickies, and between your tits lies a motherfucking James Beard Award.

Carmen pushes on your upper back so that you’re leaning over the counter and re-enters you at a punishing pace. The bathroom is filled with lewd noises of skin slapping skin and moaning. You look up to see Carmen staring at you through the mirror. Except, he’s not looking at your face, he’s staring at your tits. Wait. No. He’s staring at the medal bouncing with your tits.

Carmen looks into your eyes through the mirror, “yeah look at you,” he growls, somehow pushing into you even faster now, “my girl wearing my fucking award. Jesus Christ look at that,” he watches intently as the piece of silver bounces off of your chest with each thrust he delivers, “fuck, who’s the best baby?”

“It’s you, Carmy, you’re the best,” you moan out in response, “you’re the best,”

Carmen reaches around you and grabs the medal, but keeps the ribbon around your neck. He pulls on it just enough that your back arches and your head falls onto his shoulder. The new angle this creates is mind-blowing, and you once again moan all too loudly. Carmen litters kisses and bites along the shell of your ear.

“I’m so close baby,” he strains into your ear, “want you to come with me,”

With that he takes his free hand and resumes his work on your clit. The combination of the dragging of his thick cock over your G-spot over and over again with the tight circles he’s rubbing into you has you barreling towards your second orgasm. Knowing your body the way he does, Carmy can tell, and he tries his best to time his release with yours.

With one final stroke, you’re coming undone on Carmy’s dick, throat still held tight by the ribbon of his award. Carmen stutters as he comes inside of you with a groan, holding your hips in a way that will bruise as he paints your insides, the warmth adding to your intense pleasure. You both come down from your highs with a collection of sighs and moans, and finally, Carmy pulls out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact and the feeling of him leaking out of you.

Wordlessly, you begin to dress yourself again. You don’t even bother asking Carmen for your panties back, that’s an argument you’ve lost to him enough times already. You zip your dress back up, Carmen silently helping you get it to the top as he too works on making himself decent again. You attempt to fix your hair looking in the mirror, getting it back to a somewhat similar state to when you arrived earlier this evening. You smooth out your dress, and go to walk out of the bathroom when Carmen clears his throat.

“You, um,” he looks at the floor before making that piercing eye contact he’s so good at, “you deserve better, you know, than that asshole,”

You stare back at the man you loved for so many years. The man you still love today. He was right, you did deserve better. Better than Alex, but better than him, too. You nod back at him with tears in your eyes.

“Congratulations on your award, Carmen,” you say quietly. You walk out of the bathroom, back to the ceremony.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

It's Inevitable

Prompt Day 4: Mistletoe | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Brief Period-Typical Homophobia | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But Is The Town Pariah, First Kiss

The amount of eggnog Steve has requested they pick up is borderline insane. How many people is he expecting at his party tonight? Honestly. The line to checkout at the Big Buy is long, too long, and Eddie regrets offering to be the last minute errand boy.

Everybody's out in full-force stocking up for New Year's, and now it looks like he intends to drink his body weight in yellow sludge.

At least he forced Gareth into coming with him, so he isn't suffering alone.

Waiting for their turn to pay, there is a cardboard box floor display full of sprigs of mistletoe. Clearance priced and ready to move after Christmas. They've all seen better days, and are meant to be an impulse purchase to move them out the door, Unfortunately, Eddie falls for it, hook, line and sinker. He picks one up, and throws one in the top basket of the cart, and continues to wait as he glances at all the magazines, seeing what he can read for free while they're stuck in place.

"What's that for?" Gareth asks, picking up the mistletoe with two fingers, holding it outwards, like it might bite him. 

"The party," Eddie answers, "why are you acting like it's poisonous?"

"It is poisonous," Gareth answers, tossing it back into the cart, then brushes his hands against his jeans, like that will clean them, "Who are you trying to kill?"

"Sssh," Eddie hisses, looking around. It hasn't been long enough that he feels truly comfortable in town, and he definitely doesn't want killing associated with him any fucking longer. Jesus. He just wants to kiss someone. Is that too much to ask?

He doesn't think so.

"I just thought it might make the night interesting, that's all," Eddie finally answers.

"Interesting. Sure. Am I even invited to this party?" Gareth asks.

Eddie sighs, "Yes. You're invited where I'm invited, why do you keep asking that every damn time we do something with Steve?"

"He never talks to me. He only talks to you," Gareth grumbles.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Eddie asks.

"No, not really. But it might be nice to not feel invisible," he says, arms crossed, petulant.

Eddie will tell Steve to say hi or something, make the little shit happy.

The old man behind the register glares at him, which is par for the fucking course. He holds the mistletoe like Eddie is asking to use it on him, and Eddie has to bite his tongue to not be snarky, as the old asshole mumbles under his breath about Eddie being a freak, a queer, a murderer, and Eddie squeezes the handle of the cart. He's two of the three, but this asshole doesn't get to say so.

That's been the worst part of his reentry into society after barely surviving the court of public opinion. The scrutiny, the hatred, still so real that he doesn't feel comfortable being himself in town. He escaped being convicted for murders he didn't commit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to Hopper's miraculous resurrection. He knows that.

But being quiet, and non-reactive, when he feels wronged, is soul-crushing.

He doesn't snap at him, but Gareth does, and nobody is about to cast stones at Carolyn Jones' little boy, freak or not. They are part of the fabric of town, like Eddie never will be.

Gareth sassing him on Eddie's behalf is enough to not make Eddie feel so fucking kicked while he's down, and Eddie smiles as he hands over Steve Harrington's money. Knowing if the old coot knew that, he'd shit bricks.

Back at Harrington's house, Eddie pulls the small bundle out of the sack. It's stupid. He's aware it's stupid. But it gives him a chance, so he's gonna do it. 

"Is that mistletoe?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, funny, right?" 

"For sure, I wonder what weird pairings of people we can lure under there?"

There's only one weird pairing Eddie cares about, and they are both standing right here, right now.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Gareth would appreciate being set up under here with someone cute."

Eddie drags over one of the dining room chairs, and makes sure he takes off his shoes so Mrs. Harrington doesn't see shoeprints if she ever comes home.

"You got a pushpin?" Eddie asks, and Steve disappears to find one. When he turns back up, Eddie loops the ribbon through, and stands on his tiptoes.

He can't quite reach. Fucking vaulted ceilings in rich people houses.

Steve laughs, "Let me get the step ladder." 

Eddie stands there looking at the door frame.

Steve climbs the ladder, and takes the mistletoe from Eddie's hand. And Eddie watches as Steve stretches upwards, pressing the sharp end of the tack into the wood. A sliver of his hairy belly showing as his sweater rides up.

The sweater is red, and looks so soft. Eddie wants to touch it. Touch him.

Steve lowers his arms and then they're just looking at each other.

Steve breaks their eye contact, and comes down one step, readjusting his shirt.

Then they're eye-to-eye again, and Eddie swallows. Shit.

"Well, huh, would you look at that?" Steve says, so fucking smooth that Eddie misses his meaning.

"Look at what?" Eddie asks, because all he can look at is Steve.

"We're standing under mistletoe. Wonder how that got there?"

And then Steve's leaning forward, using his smooth fucking lines on Eddie, and all Eddie can think is that he really shouldn't be doing this off the ground. He's liable to fall and crack open his skull.

But Steve slides his arm over Eddie's shoulder, moving to both pull him closer and keep him secure, as Steve's lips press against Eddie's.

Holy shit.

Eddie kisses back, and hopes that this isn't just Steve being silly. Hoping that maybe this was a mutual good excuse to get this ball rolling.

The moment Steve's tongue touches Eddie's, he knows it isn't a joke.

It's inevitable.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🌿

[tojipie]

I love your prison bf toji series so much!! Also, in the newest installment of the series Toji says that Shiu has had a crush on the reader for a while? I’d love to see how this crush developed, how Toji found out and how Shiu dealt with his feelings!!

ughhhhgghgg i love this prompt so much :(( bless your heart you’re a genius <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

context ! -> fic takes place very early on in reader and toji’s relationship. this is pre-prison and at a point where he hasn’t introduced him to his men yet :D hopefully this makes sense !

content: fem reader, brief piv smut, mentions of incarceration, objectification of reader by stranger, fluff, they make up dw ! jealousy, angst, unrequited love

purple hickeys bloom across your chest as toji makes his way from shoulder to shoulder, pinching bouts of delicate skin between his teeth while length ruts into you.

the drag of his cock is delicious, hitting that special spot at just the right angle from the way he has you laid out on the couch, both legs thrown over his shoulder with your head propped up on a cushion.

toji was always like this after securing a deal at work, soft, sensual, taking his time with your body as an act of celebration. half-empty glasses of champagne still lie on the coffee table where you’d left them, leaving rings of cool sweat on the glass surface.

“gonna cum,” he groans, pulling away from your neck with a pop and blowing cool air against the saliva-soaked hickey. you squirm at the stimulation, throwing your head back as your high creeps up on you t— was that a key in the door?

toji pulls out of you with unmatched speed, reaching for a couch cushion to shield his manhood. he rucks a throw blanket over your body with a string of curses, using his massive build to hide the silhouette of your body from view. 

“what’d i tell you about waltzing into my fucking house?” your boyfriend yells, staring down the suit-clad stranger with a look that screams blood-lust.

the smile that breaks out on the man’s face is nothing short of filthy, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat

“awww didya get us a hooker boss-man?” he sneers, cigarette hanging from his lips. “could’ve waited till i showed up to start but i’m down for whatever.” he laughs, gingerly placing a pristine briefcase on the coffee table before taking your discarded bottle of champagne as a parting gift.

“don’t have too much fun, alright?” he teases, stepping out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

the two of you are speechless for several minutes, looking back and forth between each other, the door he didn’t even bother to close, and the mystery briefcase you’re not sure you want to see opened. 

toji sits up with a string of curses, stalking over to kick the door shut with a sigh. 

“that’s.. shiu,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed. 

you sit up from your spot on the couch, letting the blanket guarding your modesty slip down to your waist. toji settles down on the opposite side of the couch, arms outstretched to let you climb onto his naked form. 

“handles money,” he clarifies, tracing abstract shapes onto your spine. “my cut from today is in the case.”

“do you trust him?” 

he nods, resting his head in the crook of your neck with a sigh.

you figure that’s all you need to know.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

the apology shiu gives you the next time you meet goes on for ten minutes. variations of “fuck i didn’t know” and “i’m so so sorry i really am” spill from his lips while he bows at your feet, forehead firmly pressed to the wood floor of your dining room.

toji sits at the head of the table, shoveling bites of dinner into his mouth in between heart laughs.

“mmf— tell her again i don’t think she heard ya.”

the truth is you’d kind of forgotten about your boyfriend's right hand after the incident was over. was the hooker comment uncalled for? sure, but judging by the saturated fear in the suit-clad man’s eyes you figure toji had done something to set him straight.

plus you’d both gone two more rounds after the initial embarrassment had died down, making up for the little roadblock on your path to an orgasm. 

“it’s okay, promise,” you say quietly, not entirely sure what to say at this point. the suit-clad man stands again, bowing to both of you with a sigh. 

“now give her our little present,” toji says, stalking over with his arms crossed. 

a sealed bottle of champagne— the same kind he’d so graciously swiped from your home— is placed in the palm of your hands before you’re able to question either of them. 

you shoot the other man a greatful smile, and shiu realizes he quite likes the feeling of your soft hand shaking his.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

toji’s annual new year party was a sight to behold. alcohol, dancers, and booming music was the typical atmosphere, though the event had taken a complete turn once you’d entered the picture. 

gone were the days of loose dollar bills and stray panties littering the floor, the smell of sex and smoke in the air.

in were the days of… a modest bar and fancy catering, much to his men’s dismay.

toji didn’t quite know how to throw a party that could be deemed “professional” but he figured not having strippers at the house might’ve been a step in the right direction. some of the guys even brought their wives this time, fun right?

and so, toji sits toward the back of the room, watching you socialize with a drink in hand, his best friend beside him. 

tension hangs in the air as both men watch you from afar. one with pride, the other with longing.

“do you want her?”

“… what?”

toji doesn’t elaborate on the cryptic question, peering at his friend over the rim of his glass.

shiu pauses, downing the rest of his drink as he thinks of what to say. a warm hand settles on the meat of his shoulder, letting him know it’s ok.

“yeah man, i do,” he admits, too ashamed to look up from the floor.

greed. the word that’d graced toji’s knuckles since the day he turned 19. black ink needled into a canvas of tan skin, bleeding into the rest of the tattoos like water flowing upstream. 

it fit him perfectly. it did then, and it does now. toji always gets what he wants, regardless of how other people feel. a man overcome by what he believes he deserves. 

the hug he’s pulled into isn't filled with malice. the threat of violence isn’t there, unlike the time toji had taken him by the collar and threatened to gut him like a fish over the comments shiu had made the first time he met you. 

this hug is.. soft. inviting. an embrace that tells him “it’s okay, i trust you.” the fact that toji hasn’t bashed his nose into his skull is a telltale sign that there’s no fault in feeling the way he does, so long as he doesn’t act on it.

shiu truly doesn’t know what to say other than yes, he does want you. he wants you to be the one he comes home to each night, he wants your soft skin on his, wants to spoil you and make you smile.

you were kind, attentive, shy at times. the complete opposite of toji and his brutish demeanor. a flower cradled in the hand of a dragon.

but you weren’t his, and you never would be. not when toji had been the one to sweep you off your feet, securing a place for himself in your heart that shiu could never fill. 

and that was ok. he was here for his job, not you. shiu was fine with you being oblivious to his feelings, in fact, it was better that way for the three of you.

that’s exactly why he breaks away from the hug as you pad over to their table, shooting you both an apologetic smile before heading over to the bar. as long as he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of you every now and then, he’d live. 

edit: forgot abt the taglist oopsies 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[passengerprincessblog]

“Breaking Point” ~ Pt 4 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, angst, arguments, sleepy oral? Idk.

Summary: When Lewis shows up unannounced at Y/N’s filming location and follows her back to her LA home, unresolved tensions boil over, sparking an intense argument that exposes the growing rift between them. As they clash over misunderstandings and unspoken resentments, Y/N struggles to hold her ground, refusing to melt under Lewis’s charm, even as he tries to bridge the distance in his own stubborn, unrelenting way.

The silence in the car is suffocating, thick with all the words left unsaid between us. We’re heading back to my house in LA, and the tension stretches like an invisible line, taut and fraying. Every time I glance his way, I catch Lewis staring, his gaze heavy, filled with something that feels like disappointment or maybe just frustration.

It’s strange having him here, in my city, in my space. He’s never part of this life—my world where I’m more than his girlfriend, more than a footnote in his racing saga. Today, he got a glimpse of me with my crew, laughing, bantering, a side of myself he barely knows. A side that doesn’t revolve around him. And maybe that’s why this hurts so much. He’s so supportive of everything about me… except this. My career. The one thing that pulls me away from him.

I feel his hand settle on my thigh, his fingers warm against my skin. Instinctively, irritation flares up. I want to shove him off, to shake his hand away, but I don’t. I know it’ll only set him off, and I’m too tired for another argument. Instead, I focus on the passing streets, letting the city lights blur together, pretending not to notice his fingers tracing idle circles. He reaches over, grabbing my hand, playing with the rings on my fingers like I’m his personal stress toy. The sensation is grounding, sure, but also infuriating. Does he even realize how invasive this feels? How much he takes from me without even realizing it?

When we finally arrive at my house, I pull away the second the car stops, sliding out and thanking James, my driver, with a quick “Goodnight.” Lewis lingers, watching me with that unreadable gaze, like he’s studying me. I feel exposed, as if I’m a stranger he’s trying to understand, trying to fit into some mold that doesn’t really exist. It’s clear he’s not used to seeing me here, in LA, in the life that belongs to me.

I walk up the steps to my front door, feeling his presence right behind me. My house is beautiful—sprawling, a mix of modern LA glamour and Spanish-style architecture, spacious and luxurious. It’s mine, yet not entirely mine. After all, it’s Lewis who pays for it. I hadn’t wanted his money in the beginning, fought him on it, but he insisted, saying that rejecting his help felt like rejecting him. So here I am, living in this house he gifted me, a reminder of his presence even when he’s not here.

I unlock the door and step inside, throwing my keys on the table in the foyer. The house is decorated to my taste—soft hues, eclectic art pieces, warm textures that make it feel like home, my sanctuary. I walk into the living room, hearing his footsteps close behind me. He glances around, taking in the space, a look of faint surprise on his face.

“Wow… did you change it?” he asks, looking genuinely intrigued.

I shrug, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Not really… well, kind of.” I don’t give him much more. He hasn’t been here in nearly a year. Of course he wouldn’t remember.

He huffs, following me up the stairs, his footsteps deliberate, like he’s pushing through the tension hanging between us. I can feel the irritation rolling off him, the way he’s holding himself back, and it makes me want to push even harder.

“Are you gonna be like this all night? Y/N?” he says, his tone laced with barely restrained frustration.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn to face him, crossing my arms. “Yes.”

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t you have a normal conversation with me? Why is that so hard?”

I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “It’s not a ‘normal’ conversation, Lewis.” I can’t hold back anymore. “I can’t believe you just showed up like that,” I blurt out, the annoyance bubbling over.

His eyes narrow as I open the door to my bedroom, stepping into the softly lit space. My room is intimate, filled with small decorations and touches that feel so personal, so me. It’s like a slap in the face to him, a reminder that he doesn’t see my life like this enough, that he doesn’t really know this part of me.

“Because I love you? Because I wanted to surprise you? And support you?” he scoffs, almost as if my irritation is absurd.

I throw my bag at the end of my bed, barely glancing at him. “Okay… well, thanks. You can go now… I’m so surprised and supported. Mission accomplished.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm. “You can go back to your life.”

He stares at me, his eyes flashing with anger, a dangerous edge simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying.”

“Cool. I’m so impressed… you’re so impressive. Mr. champion, millionaire, stupid playboy. Is that what you want? Me to praise you for your attempt? You’re so fucking amazing, Lewis!” My voice rises, my irritation finally spilling out in sharp, pointed words.

He takes a step toward me, his gaze dark and intense. “You’re really pushing it. You know what I mean… I’m trying to make you feel loved. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong.” I snap back, feeling the weight of my resentment boiling over. “Just leave now. I know you’re gonna leave in the morning anyway… with your stupid race on Sunday.”

He sighs, exasperated but unwilling to give up. “I don’t have to leave until Wednesday night,” he says, his tone hardening as he steps closer. “I’m staying.”

I roll my eyes, brushing past him into my bathroom. “No. Just leave.”

He follows me, his voice low and demanding as he steps into the room behind me. “I said…” he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him, his hand firm on my chin as he tilts my face to look at him. “I’m staying.”

My stomach flips, a mix of nerves and something else swirling inside me as I meet his intense gaze. His eyes are smoldering, his jaw tight, and I can feel the determination radiating off him, daring me to challenge him.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, trying to sound annoyed.

He lets go of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gentle, almost tender gesture that makes my heart ache. I can tell he wants more, that he’s craving some kind of reassurance, something from me, but I can’t bring myself to give in. Not yet.

He starts to step back, but I turn to the mirror, trying to compose myself, pretending his presence doesn’t affect me as much as it does. But he doesn’t move far; instead, he leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on me.

“Give me a kiss,” he says softly, his tone almost pleading.

I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Give me a kiss…” he repeats, his voice coaxing, insistent.

I continue to glare, refusing to budge, letting the silence stretch.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, his tone dipping, a hint of something darker beneath it. “I’ll be getting a lot more than a kiss when we get to bed, so you better just give me one now.”

I furrow my brow, stubbornly refusing to indulge him. “You’re not forgiven. You don’t get a kiss… and you don’t get to stay in my room.”

He groans, rubbing his eyebrows in frustration. “Oh my god. You’re such a brat. Why are you like this? I’m trying to fix things.”

“They aren’t fixed. Leave me alone,” I mutter, turning back to the mirror, focusing on brushing my hair, anything to avoid the pull of his gaze.

He steps closer, his expression softening, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I love you, baby girl. Please… stop being like this.”

I narrow my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to be all soft and sweet, pulling at my heartstrings, hoping I’ll melt and give in. But it’s not going to work. Not this time.

“Goodnight. The guest bedroom is perfect for you,” I say, flashing him a sarcastic smile.

He glares at me, his expression hardening in irritation. With a heavy sigh, he finally turns and leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me alone with the hollow ache that always seems to linger when he’s gone.

It’s late—sometime in the early hours, I’m sure—and I’ve barely settled into sleep when the faint sound of my bedroom door clicking shut pulls me out of my dreams. I stay still, eyes closed, hoping it’s just my imagination. But then I feel the bed shift, the mattress sinking slightly as a familiar warmth slips in beside me.

A heavy arm drapes over my waist, and I instinctively make a soft, annoyed sound, shifting away, but he just tightens his grip, pulling me back. His presence is warm, enveloping, and for a moment, I consider giving in, letting his touch soothe the tension between us. But I can’t quite shake my irritation, even through the haze of sleep.

“Baby… baby girl… shh…” His voice is soft, a gentle murmur as he leans in, pressing feather-light kisses along my neck and cheek. Each kiss is an apology, a quiet plea, and I can feel his regret seeping into each touch.

I hum in response, somewhere between annoyance and surrender, too drowsy to put up much of a fight. His hand slips under my shirt, his fingers gliding over my skin in slow, soothing circles, as if he’s trying to coax the tension out of me, to ease the edges of my frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl…” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you so much… please don’t be mad at me.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within me, a part of me that’s been holding onto my anger, but now feels it starting to crumble. I want to hold onto it, to let him know how much he’s hurt me, but his gentle touch, the warmth of his apology, makes it hard to keep the walls up.

I sigh, barely able to form a coherent response, the words slipping out in a quiet murmur. “Lewis…”

His fingers trail lower, caressing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I squirm at the intimate touch, a shiver running through me despite my lingering irritation. His hand settles between my thighs, and I can't help but part them slightly, allowing him access.

"Let me make it up to you, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let me show you how much I love you."

I'm too sleepy to protest, the warmth of his touch lulling me back towards unconsciousness. My body responds to him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his fingers begin to move, stroking me gently, coaxing me towards arousal.

"That's it, baby," he whispers encouragingly. "Just relax for me. Let me take care of you."

His words wash over me, soothing and seductive, and I feel myself melting into his touch. My hips begin to move of their own accord, squirming against his hand as he works me closer and closer to the edge.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, the earlier argument fading away as his skillful fingers bring me to the brink of climax. Just as I'm about to fall over the edge, he withdraws his hand, leaving me frustrated and wanting more.

"Lewis..." I whine, my voice thick with need.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he shifts position. "Not yet, baby girl. I'm not done apologizing."

With that, he moves down the bed, settling between my legs. I feel his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh, and I can't suppress the moan that escapes my lips. He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, before he leans in, his tongue sliding over me in one long, slow lick.

I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to work me with his mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking me in all the right places.

He continues his ministrations, his tongue swirling around my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel myself getting wetter.

"Fuck, Lewis," I moan, my hips squirming against his face. "Don't stop."

He obliges, doubling down on his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, his lips sucking harder. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as I grind against his mouth, chasing my release.

"You taste so fucking good, baby girl," he groans, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. "I could eat this pretty little pussy all night."

His words are filthy, but they only serve to turn me on more, spurring me towards my impending climax. I can feel it building, a coil of tension in my lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue.

"Lewis, I'm gonna... I'm gonna," I pant, my body tensing, my thighs quivering around his head.

He doesn't relent, his mouth working me feverishly, his tongue flicking rapidly over my clit, pushing me over the edge. I come with a cry, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He laps it me up eagerly, prolonging my orgasm until I'm a trembling, boneless mess beneath him. Only then does he pull away, crawling back up my body to claim my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sharing the taste of my own arousal with me.

"I love you, baby girl," he murmurs against my lips, his eyes shining with adoration.

I whimper slightly, the fleeing still lingers. I look at him as I become fully awake. Is he serious? Only Lewis would try this…

“‘Mmm…” I hum in response, not giving him the satisfaction of saying it back. He’s not forgiven, not matter how good he makes me feel.

His eyebrows furrow at me as he looks down at me. He sighs heavily, looking and sounding annoyed. He lays down next to me, cuddling close. I close my eyes… I’ll let him stay the here.

————————————-

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[ccwpidsblog]

untitled — a.artlet

content warning: incel!armin artlet, male masterbation, slightt mommy kink, panty thief!minie, slut shaming, lmk if i missed anything i lit suck at tagging

cwpids notes: if this looks familiar it's from my old Wattpad account, this was originally a shiggy fanfiction but im not into mha anymore and wattpad deleted that book SAURRR just enjoy 😁🏹

armin artlet hated you with a passion. you came into his house and bothered him with your dumb staring and weak attempts to seduce him. his discord server and online friend knew everything about women like you. you'd try to take everything from him knowing his family was wealthy. that's exactly why you bothered him just like every other woman that approached him did. they didn't see armin they saw his money. he hated your stupid face when you batted your more than likely fake lashes at him and smiled at him with your fake smile, he hated the way your smell lingers when you leave a room, he hated the outfits you wore it was like you were begging for attention, he hated everything that has to do with you

his shirt was in between his teeth, left hand rubbing the soft cotton of your panties onto his cock,, his right was gripped onto the wall steadying himself. "fuck, y/n..." armin bit down onto his shirt harder, throwing his head back closing his eyes.

he was hot and bothered often, masterbating was something he did daily; he even had his fair share of toys. but this was his first time ever taking someone's underwear. he just couldn't help himself. sneaking into the guest bedroom while you were busy decorating the house for some shitty party his sister was throwing. he'd took the first pair he saw from the hamper. he felt gross not in the way he usually did while he stroked one out but in the best way. this didn't mean he did not hate you anymore; it was more of a lust thing he told himself.

he just lusted you.

"ah, faster..." he demanded of himself, his hands obeying his orders. the pace gradually picked up, using the same hand that gripped your panties tightly wrapping around his cock, while the other slowly smoothed up the skin of his stomach, feeling himself in ways he wished you could . armins hips bucked upwards into his hand, his quiet moans now turning into grunts of rapture with every thrust.

he imagined you on your knees in front of him allowing him to thrust himself into your mouth. begging for him to touch you in ways no one could "gonna cum, gonna fucking cum...ohh my god, more."

armin whined as he tightened his fist around his fat length, vigorously jerking himself off. his eyes flutter open to look down at how red and swollen his mushroom tip was, and how your panties were covered in his pre-cum, roughly biting down on his chapped bottom lip as he kept fucking into your panties, veins protruding with his grip tightening even further. "so tight, so tight."

"oh fuck, fuck mommy!" he cried out, voice breaking into a sob when his orgasm gushed out of him in hot spurts. placing his forehead on the cool tile he breathed heavily gaining his composure again. washing his hands and cleaning himself off his stuffed spoiled into his pocket. opening the door he came face to face with you.

his stomach twisted into knots as he stared down at you. your face scrunched and eyes watery like your were on the verge of crying, the braids you originally had in a bun were now down your back, it was your outfit that ticked him off. all these people here and you're walking around in a skimpy bathing suit. he didn't want to be mean or make you cry but it couldn't help himself.

"prancing around like an attention whore. not surprised since it's you."

[museanddream]

Heaven - part 2 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x reader

Warnings: 🔞 || threesome, poly relationship, oral sex, strap-ons, degrading language, bottom!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2 of 3

Part 1 here

Ona bends to kiss you, slow and sweet, then gently coaxes you onto your hands and knees. Lucy has kicked off her boxers and now sits completely bare against the headboard, legs slightly parted as she waits for you.

“Come up here,” Lucy says.

You crawl up the bed until you’re kneeling between her legs. Lucy pushes herself off the headboard, abs tensing as she does, and grabs your jaw with one hand. Her grip is rougher than Ona’s was, hard enough to remind you who’s in charge, but the thumb that she rubs across the seam of your lips is gentle in comparison.

“We gotta find a good use for that filthy mouth, huh?” she murmurs, her gaze flicking down to your lips.

You nod, staying silent in case you say something that riles Lucy up even further.

“You’re gonna eat me out while Ona fucks you from behind,” Lucy tells you, letting go of your jaw. Her gaze flicks up to Ona, before she adds a second instruction, this time for the Spaniard. “She doesn’t come until I do.”

Ona nods obediently, jaw clenched, and helps guide you into position. Your knees are near the edge of the mattress, Ona standing behind you at the foot of the bed, your ass in the air ready to be filled by her cock again. In front of you, Lucy is relaxing against the cushions once more, legs spread so you can see the perfect lips shining with the evidence of her arousal.

Before you can get to work, Ona pulls you upright, wrapping her arms around you from behind as the toy presses against your ass and her mouth finds your neck. You tilt your head as your eyelashes flutter shut, giving her access to a wider expanse of skin, and she sends one hand south across your stomach until her fingers dip between your legs again. You’re so wet there’s no friction at all as her fingertips slide over your clit, taunting your entrance before sliding back up across your stomach, leaving a wet smear behind.

“Ona, please…”

“You heard Lucy.” Ona’s voice is nothing more than a low rumble in your ear, but it still has you pushing your hips back against her harness. “You get her off, then I’ll reward you. Does that sound good, cariño?”

You nod and let Ona guide you back down onto all fours. She’s so careful with you, stroking your back as you find a comfortable position between Lucy’s legs. That’s one of the big differences between them. Lucy likes to be rougher, likes to assert her control by throwing you around the bedroom or pinning you down with her strength. Ona is stronger than you too, could probably even give Lucy a run for her money, not that Lucy would ever admit to it or let her try, but so often chooses to be gentle instead.

Lucy notices too and calls Ona out.

“This is the problem, you know. This is why she acts out. You’re too fucking nice to her when she’s being a brat.”

Though you can’t see Ona’s face behind you, you can picture the smirk on her face from the tone of her voice as she points out, “I’m not the one she told to get fucked.”

Lucy’s eyes drop to meet yours, looking at the way you’re on your hands and knees between her legs, patiently waiting for instruction.

“Go on then,” she tells you. “Get on with it. This was your idea.”

Her voice is devoid of any emotion as her eyes bore into you, as if being eaten out by you is a chore she has to endure rather than a pleasure, but instead of putting you off, it only spurs you on, desperate to prove to Lucy that she should be craving you and the way you can make her feel.

You lower yourself onto your forearms and nuzzle your face into the inside of one of Lucy’s strong thighs, pressing a couple of kisses to the soft skin there, before you turn your head back and run your tongue through Lucy’s arousal. She’s soaked, and as you lick through her and hum at the taste, you feel pride swell in your chest. Lucy might pretend to be unbothered by the prospect of you going down on her, might put on a show of bravado and dominance and act like she’s in control, but the wetness collected by your tongue is evidence that she is affected by it all. Whether she’s turned on from watching Ona fucking you or if it’s just the power of having you willing to do pretty much anything just to be allowed to come, it doesn’t matter because she wants you.

Even though it’s against your own interests, you start slow, teasing Lucy with your tongue. You avoid her clit, you swirl around her glistening hole without actually dipping inside. Revenge, you could say, for the way she denied your own pleasure earlier.

But you don’t have the same resolve as Lucy, that’s probably why she’s dominating this encounter while you’re the one on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, because you can’t deny her for too long. Not because she makes you, not explicitly anyway, but because there’s more power in unravelling Lucy’s composure than there is in teasing her.

Your tongue gets more precise, finding the spots that you know drive her wild, settling into more of a rhythm. Your lips wrap around her clit, soft suction as you press the flat of your tongue against her, before licking down and curling the tip of your tongue inside her where her arousal gathers.

Apart from the wetness coating your lips and chin, there’s no sign that she’s moved by the way you work your tongue against her most intimate area at all.

It bothers you to no end that Lucy is so calm while you’re a desperate mess between her strong thighs.

You’re so focused on trying to elicit some kind of reaction from Lucy that you almost forget about Ona and her strap behind you.

Almost.

“Ready?” Ona’s voice is low as she speaks to you.

You can’t reply, not with your mouth occupied by Lucy, but you know that Ona is an ass girl and push your own up further into her hand to encourage her. The fingers of one hand squeeze the flesh appreciatively, while those on the other dip back between your legs, smearing your copious arousal around until you feel the digits replaced by the familiar silicone of the strap’s blunt head.

Ona pushes in, not forcefully, but without the same care to stretch you out slowly that she used before. The ache as she slides in and bottoms out is a pleasant one that has you humming against Lucy.

“She feels good, huh?” Lucy asks. You might be imagining the slight rasp to her voice but you feed off it, knowing that your tongue must finally be making her feel something.

You can’t answer without lifting your mouth from Lucy’s cunt and you don’t dare, but you let out a little moan of assent.

Behind you, Ona starts moving, only pulling out halfway but still managing to nudge that spot inside you with the toy’s blunt head on each slow thrust.

“Look at you,” Lucy continues. Your eyes find hers and are met with a strange look, her eyes hazy with lust but a scorning expression on her face. “Being used at both ends. Pathetic.”

If your tongue was not busy, you’re sure it would fire a sharp quip right back at Lucy, some clever retort to try and prove that you’re not just in this position because she’s put you there, that you like being the sole focus of their combined attention. But your hot head and smart mouth are what got you into this predicament in the first place and you don’t even want to dare to imagine how long Lucy will deny you from coming if you were to make even the tiniest slip up and question her authority again.

Behind you, Ona’s hand strokes your ass as she fucks into you, the gentle touch a contrast to Lucy’s harsh words. But if you’re honest, the cold way that Lucy addresses you is just as responsible for the delicious pressure building in your core as Ona’s strap is.

Ona fucks you steadily, hips less hurried than they were when she had you on your back. The pace shouldn’t be enough to get you there on its own, or at least it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t already been teased mercilessly, first by Ona’s tongue and fingers, then by her strap.

But something about this whole situation, being used by them both, having your own pleasure held ransom by Lucy and her willing accomplice Ona, has you hurtling towards the edge far quicker than should be possible.

You lift your mouth from Lucy’s pussy and gasp out, “Stop. I’m close. I’m gonna…”

Ona pulls out, leaving you pulsing around nothing. The ebb of the incoming orgasm washes away and leaves you feeling so frustrated that you almost wonder if you would’ve been better off coming without permission, inevitably facing the wrath of yet another punishment from Lucy but at least getting a little relief in the process.

As it is, you’re left more worked up than ever. You need to come, need to get Lucy off so that you can come.

For the first time, you start to regret the brattiness that got you in this predicament. Would they have let you come by now if you’d kept your mouth shut, if you’d laid obediently between them instead of telling Lucy to get fucked?

“Poor thing,” Lucy says, though there’s no sympathy in her dark gaze, nor the twist of her lips as she looks down at you between her legs. “Just desperate to come, aren’t you?”

She pauses, but you know the question is rhetorical and she soon continues.

“Poor little slut.”

Ona’s warm hand on the base of your spine is a stark contrast to the coldness of Lucy’s words. Her touch is kind, though you can’t help but think that it would be kinder of her to let you come. She won’t though, knowing very well that it could just as easily be her in your position if she enables you, sympathising with you just enough to know what it feels like to be on Lucy’s bad side when she’s in one of these moods but not enough to actually help you out of the mess you’ve caught yourself in.

Ona knows the rules. As do you - Lucy comes, then you do.

“Can I use my fingers on you?” You dare to ask the question, knowing it would speed up the process.

Lucy shakes her head.

“No, I don’t think so. I want your mouth. Want you to prove to me that your tongue is good for more than just mouthing off when you’re being a brat.”

You groan, partly in frustration and partly because Ona chooses that moment to sheath the toy inside you once more. You have no doubt that you’d be able to get Lucy off in less than a couple of minutes with your fingers, satisfying the criteria to be allowed an orgasm of your own, but Lucy doesn’t come as easily from being eaten out.

That’s not to say that she can’t come, you’re just going to have to work a little harder for it.

Something that’s going to be really difficult if Ona keeps bottoming out inside you like that.

Ona’s thrusts are shallower now and she probably thinks that she’s doing you a favour by not pounding into you with as much vigour, but it’s actually the reverse. Because the bulb to the cock’s head means there’s a slight ridge that is rubbing inside you, providing perfect pressure exactly where you don’t need it, not if you’re going to get Lucy off with your tongue first.

But just when you’re about to call out for Ona to pause again, one of Lucy’s hands finds the back of your head, winding her fingers through strands of hair as she pulls your face tighter against you.

She’s close.

“That’s it.” Lucy’s voice comes out as a growl, and when you glance up her body, you see that her eyes are shut in bliss, her other hand stretched out to grasp one of the slats on the headboard, her abdomen rippling as she bucks her hips against your willing tongue. “Right there. Let me use you. Want to come in that filthy little mouth.”

Lucy’s words have you clenching around Ona’s cock and you know she can feel the extra resistance from the way that her hand squeezes your ass apreciatively. You’re more than happy for Lucy to use your mouth, lacking the agency to move much yourself with Lucy’s hand in your hair directing you where she wants you. Her hips are moving more urgently now, practically riding the lower half of your face, smearing her arousal across your lips and chin, but you just let her, firming up your tongue to give her something to grind against.

It takes less than half a minute like that for Lucy to tumble over the edge. The only warning you get is the fist that tightens in your hair just before she comes, followed by the low groan that spills from her throat as her hips twitch against your mouth.

Ona has fallen still behind you too, cock still nestled in your cunt, probably distracted by the view in front of her and you don’t even blame her. Lucy is beautiful as she comes, eyes squeezed shut but her face the perfect portrait of pleasure. It’s something you never get tired of, watching either of your girls coming and knowing that you’re the one who made it happen, but there’s something extra special about unravelling Lucy, something about this brief moment where she’s not the one in control, that you don’t think you’ll ever not be awestruck by.

You’ve fulfilled your end of the deal but you know better than to assume you’re allowed to come now.

“Please?”

Lucy’s lashes flutter open and her hazy eyes gaze down to where you’re between her legs. The pause drags on just long enough that you think Lucy is going to be cruel enough to continue to deny you, even after making her come, but then her eyes flit up to Ona behind you.

They’re doing it again, communicating silently over you like you’re not even there, It should be embarrassing, degrading, the way they treat you like you’re a toy to be used for their pleasure rather than a person with your own desires and urges, except for the fact that it’s such a ridiculous turn-on that you’re sure you must be getting wetter around Ona’s cock.

You stay still, quiet, obedient, desperate, until finally -

“Go on,” Lucy says to Ona, with a sharp nod. “But make sure it’s good for you too. Wanna watch you both come.”