#or anything else that makes it harder to connect with your body

[itacats]

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The fragile joy of connection with Simon is quickly overshadowed by the suffocating weight of home. Confronted by Tom’s cruelty, you struggle to protect yourself, both physically and emotionally, while clinging to the small glimmers of kindness Simon offers. In a world defined by shadows, hope flickers like a hesitant flame, but it’s a light you’re not ready to embrace—yet.

A/N: Ah, the emotional whiplash chapter. One moment, you’re swooning over rolled-up sleeves and car repairs, and the next, you’re wading through the muck of heartbreak and resilience. Hang tight; the rollercoaster isn’t over yet. 🎢

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Part 3 - Cracks in the Foundation

The moment you step through the front door, the warmth and joy from your encounter with Simon evaporate like dew under the harsh light of the morning sun. The house is quiet, but not in a comforting way—it’s the kind of silence that makes your chest tighten and your senses sharpen. The faint creak of the floor beneath your shoes feels deafening as you step into the kitchen.

Tom is there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The shadows from the dim overhead light stretch across his face, making his expression even harder, more menacing. His eyes lock onto yours immediately, sharp and unrelenting. You can feel the judgment radiating from him, an oppressive weight settling on your shoulders.

"You’re late," he growls, his voice low and heavy, each syllable dripping with accusation.

Your heart races as you glance at the clock on the wall. It’s not that late—barely past eight—but you know it doesn’t matter. Tom’s moods don’t follow logic or reason; they’re a storm that sweeps in, indifferent to your explanations or pleas.

"I... I got stuck at the store," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You hate how small it sounds, but before you can finish, he cuts you off.

"Out with someone else, are you?" he snaps, his voice rising. His face twists, his features contorted into something unrecognizable. "Who is it?"

The questions come at you like a barrage, cold and sharp, each one landing with a sting from his fists. You try to answer, to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Your mind flashes back to Simon—his gentle smile, the warmth in his eyes—and for a split second, you imagine what it would be like to tell Tom the truth. But you know better.

"Tom, please," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just the car—"

"Don’t lie to me!" he shouts, slamming his hand down on the counter. The sound echoes through the room, and you flinch instinctively, your body betraying the fear you try so hard to conceal.

"I’m not lying," you say, your voice breaking. "Please, just—"

"What? Do you want kindness?" Tom interrupts, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. "You know kindness never looked good on me."

His words hit like a blow, the same venomous refrain you’ve heard countless times before. The bitterness in his tone is more cutting than the words themselves, a reminder of how far you are from the kindness you once hoped for in your life.

That night, you curl up on the couch, your knees drawn tightly to your chest. Silent tears trace cold paths down your cheeks as you replay the argument in your mind, each word cutting deeper than the last, the memory of his hands staining your skin in ugly hues. The house feels colder than ever, the darkness pressing in on you from every corner.

When morning comes, you force yourself to your feet, your body moving on autopilot. You reach for the makeup on the bathroom counter, your hands trembling slightly as you smooth the heavy foundation over the forming bruises on your cheek. It feels like a mask, a way to conceal not just the physical marks but the emotional scars that run much deeper. The person in the mirror doesn’t look like you anymore.

You step into the butcher shop later that day, the bell’s cheerful chime feeling oddly out of place against the weight in your chest. You paste on a smile, the same practiced expression you’ve perfected over time, and make your way to the counter.

Simon is there, his eyes lighting up as he spots you. But the excitement in his gaze dims slightly as he takes in your stiff posture, the way you shift uncomfortably as you dig into your bag for your wallet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and full of concern. The question is simple, but the way he asks it feels different—like he truly wants to know, like he’s ready to hear whatever you have to say.

For a moment, you hesitate. The warmth in Simon’s voice feels like a balm against the chill that’s settled deep in your bones, and you’re tempted—so tempted—to tell him the truth. To let someone else carry the weight for a little while.

But then the walls go up, as they always do. You smile, the expression tight and forced, and shake your head. "I’m fine," you say, the words hollow even to your own ears.

Simon doesn’t press, but the concern in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might not let the matter drop. There’s something about him—his quiet determination, the steady strength you’ve seen in the way he carries himself—that makes you wonder if he could be the one to finally break through your defenses.

But you can’t let him. Not now. Not yet.

As you leave the shop, you glance back over your shoulder. Simon is still watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. In that brief moment, you allow yourself to imagine a life where kindness isn’t just a fleeting encounter but a constant presence. Where the warmth of someone like Simon could replace the cold reality of your world.

"Maybe one day," you think, the words both a hope and a prayer. For now, you carry the thought of Simon with you, a small light in the darkness that has become your reality.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

Thank you to @ghostlythots for the extra tags that I should have added!

[bodypositiviteaandcakes]

If you’re feeling like a raging bitch for no discernible reason, you’re probably hungry. Go have a snack. I don’t care if your stomach isn’t growling, just go eat a cookie or smth.

[sevikasenby]

just want to eat her out so bad and fuck her so good she cries :(

AGELESS BLOGS, MINORS AND MEN DNI

you have her legs hooked over your shoulders, your hands wrapped around her thick thighs while you bury your face in between them, messily and hungrily lapping at her wet pussy.

her flesh hand rested on your head, guiding you where she wanted. you were practically making out with her cunt as you dipped your tongue into her wet heat, making obscene slurping noises as you devour her.

the hand on your head was accompanied by soft moans falling from sevika's lips. her head fell back against the pillows and her back arched ever so slightly off the bed as your tongue licked a long stripe up her cunt.

everytime she moaned, you were reminded of how you're the only one who gets to hear her like this. who gets to see her like this. who get to make her feel this good. who she's most comfortable with. to you it was the most rewarding thing that could happen, to know she feels safe enough with you to let you have control.

and to sevika it was daunting but....also relaxing. to finally let someone else take that control, someone else who she loves more than anything, trusts more than anything. she never thought she would find someone who made her feel safe.

you flicked your tongue over her neglected swollen clit a few times, watching her body twitch with every movement you made before finally wrapping your lips around her. you sucked and licked at her gently, not wanting to let her cum just yet.

you looked back up at her and just watched her. how her beautiful grey eyes rolled back everytime you sucked on her clit. how her hair was all messy and falling in her face. how her mouth hung open, only moans and strings of curses leaving her.

it wasn't until her hips started moving against you, her curly patch of hair tickling your nose whenever she moved, almost fucking your face.

and you let her. you stuck your tongue out and she immediately started to grind against it, making you moan against her. the hand on your head kept you in place as her arousal coated your mouth.

your own cunt throbbed, making you want to reach down and shove two fingers inside of yourself as your girlfriend fucked your face but you resisted.

sevika squirmed and trembled, her mech hand gripping the sheets beside her, getting closer and closer to the edge but again, you didn't want her cumming just yet so you reluctantly pulled off her, hearing her whine in response. the bottom of your face was soaked as you kissed her inner thighs and gently removed her legs from your shoulders.

you sat up and captured her soft lips. your thigh unintentionally connected with her core and she tried to rub her clit against it but you pulled back. you made her stay put on the bed while got up to grab the strap and secure it on your hips, not wanting her to lift a finger.

you got back onto the bed and between her spread legs. you took the strap and slid it between her wet folds and let it align with her slick entrace while running your hand up her chest, feeling her hard abs under your hand that are slick with sweat.

"so pretty." you whispered as you lean down to kiss the scars that scattered across her body and slowly traced them up to her neck with your tongue while you slid into her easily, feeling her shiver underneath you.

you went slow, letting her feel every inch of you as you bottomed out, watching your strap slide in and out of her, the way her cunt was wrapped around you, feeling yourself grow more and more wet at the sight of her. the strap was already covered in her arousal as you continued to fuck her.

your cunt throbbed harder the longer you fucked her to the point it almost hurt. there was just something so hot about the big scary lady of zaun trembling underneath you, moaning out your name over and over and already begging you to fuck her harder and fuck her faster.

"does it feel good?"

"y-yes yes, it feels so fucking good."

"then why would I want to go harder and let this be over so soon?"

sevika opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out, only soft moans and heavy breathing.

"but I guess since you've been so good for me," you started, punctuating your sentence with one hard thrust, making sevika gasp. "and since I want to hear more of those pretty sounds you make." and finally, much to sevika's liking, you started fucking her like she asked.

"mhm, how's that, baby?"

"oh fuck! thank you thank you thank-" her sentence was cut short and replaced with a guttural moan when you slammed your hips back into her even harder. her back arched off the bed and you leaned down to kiss the center of her chest and started to fuck her repeatedly.

the wet squelching sounds and desperate moans filled your ears as you filled her cunt with your strap over and over, fucking her faster as you felt the strap rubbing against your clit. you were sure you felt your own arousal drip down your thigh.

"fuck, you feel so good." you moaned.

sevika's mouth was working faster than her brain at the moment so before she could think, "cum inside me, please" was coming out of her mouth.

you almost stopped what you were doing completely, being thrown off guard. that was new coming from sevika. normally it was the other way around.

you leaned down and rested your forhead against hers, still fucking her. "you want me to cum inside you, sev?"

she looked quite embarrassed at what she had said and turned her head to the side but you took her chin and turned her back towards you where she slowly nodded her head. you, however, thought it was one of the hottest things she's ever said to you. you made a mental note that yeah, you're definitely gonna be getting a squirming strap in the very near future.

you were basically fucking her into the mattress now. "want me to fill you up?"

"please." sevika said, almost whispering it. you knew she was getting really close.

"such a pretty cunt for me to cum inside of." you gripped her hips and slammed back into her, feeling yourself tip over that sweet edge. "shit, I'm cumming!

sevika didn't have to announce that she was cumming. her body trembling, her eyes rolling behind her eyelids, how the dark purple strap nearly turned white and the string of curses leaving her mouth was more than enough to tell you.

she reached out and wrapped her arm around you, bringing you closer to her as you fucked her through her orgasm, gripping onto your back as you did. she shoved her face into the crook of your neck and she slowly caught her breath.

you could feel your neck become damp and you moved so you could see her. you cupped her scarred cheek and ran your thumb over the tears that had fallen. you pecked her lips then sat up to remove the strap from both her and your hips.

you would get cleaned up later, right now you just laid down beside her and let her cuddle to your chest, kissing the top of her head, running your fingers through her hair and occasionally scratching her back.

[strwbwrrybunny]

while we’re young. kento n. 435.

cw ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ nsfw link, unprotected sex,tent sex, dirty-talk, creaming, ummm praise? just a drabble . . . minors go away

nanami would probably enjoy scenarios that balance control and intimacy. he might like the idea of a quiet evening at home, starting with a slow, sensual massage that gradually leads to more intense moments. the idea of teasing you, making you wait and beg for him, is incredibly appealing to him.

he might also enjoy the thrill of more adventurous settings, like a secluded getaway where you both can explore each other's desires without any interruptions. role-playing could be another scenario he'd find intriguing, allowing both of you to step into different characters and dynamics, adding an extra layer of excitement to your connection.

overall, his scenarios would likely focus on deepening your bond while exploring new and thrilling experiences together.

“fuckkkkk nanami!” you sob out, your voice breaking with desperation as your hands reach out to grasp something, anything. the emptiness of the camping tent offers no solace, no anchor to steady yourself against the relentless onslaught of his hard thrusts. every powerful movement sends shockwaves through your body, your ass reverberating off his toned stomach with a rhythmic slap slap slap that shatters the serene silence of the woods around you.

nanami’s grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh with a possessive intensity. he loves watching you cream around his throbbing cock. he’s relentless, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, pulling you back in when you try to run, driving you to the brink of madness. your mind is a whirlwind of sensation, the pleasure so overwhelming that it blurs the lines between pain and ecstasy. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“tight ass pussy,” he grunts, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. his words only heighten your arousal, your body responding with a fresh wave of wetness that makes his movements even smoother, more fluid. the sound of your bodies colliding fills the tent, a symphony of raw, primal desire that drowns out everything else.

your nails dig into the fabric of the sleeping bag beneath you, seeking purchase as you try to ground yourself in the midst of the storm. but there’s no escaping the intensity of his thrusts, no reprieve from the relentless pace he’s set. your moans mix with his grunts, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. you can feel the tension coiling in your belly, a tight knot of pleasure that’s ready to explode.

“please,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper, “please, nanami, i’m so close.

“such a cock slut, look at you drunk off my dick.”

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! This turned a lot more funny than expected, the werewolf is basically a himbo and the events are very fast-paced. Hope you enjoy!

Request: I’d like to request a NSFW-longer story Werewolf x fem!human, werewolf saves her from what could’ve been a fatal fall/accident in the woods or….was that his secret plan all along😏 (stalking, future mate?) I love your writing and leave the rest up to your creative mind🫶

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole

Werewolf x fem!reader || induced heat, knotting, semi-public sex (cave), implied stalking

“Help! Help me!” You cried out.

A head appeared at the top of the hole you fell into. “Hello there, stranger. Seems like you are in a hole,” his words made you want to hit him with a rock. “Do you need some help?” Was this dude for real?

Not wanting to be mean to the stranger that could have your way out of the hole you sighed and told him: “Yes, please.”

He reached inside the hole with his long arm, and you reached up trying to grab it. Before you know what happened there was a big crash and the stranger was next to you in the hole/cave. “How did you fall, too?!” You accused. Now both of you were stuck in the hole. Fuck.

“Oops,” he giggled. He actually giggled. Who was this dude? You glared at him and he rose his hands in a calming motion. “No worries, I work as a keeper in the reserve and called my college when I heard you calling. They’ll come to get us soon enough.” That did calm you, and you sat down on a big rock and stared at him.

He was pretty in a rough way, like a lumberjack. He was big as a wardrobe and looked like he could break a tree if he wanted to. You were kinda okay with that, he looked good. In other circumstances, you would have hit on him. Probably. And well, being completely truthful, you would probably hit on him here, too. Your body was tingling just by looking at him, a strange sensation boiling inside of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You sat in silence as he paced up and down the little cave and you thought about all the dirty things you would let him do to you. At some point he stopped and looked at you. “We could do something to pass the time.” That made sense, but at that moment you wanted to do anything but to talk. He was handsome, and maybe you wanted to fuck him a little (understatement of the century), but definitely not in a hole in the forest.

“What do you suggest?”

And then he went and deadpanned: “We could make out.” You looked at him trying to decipher if he was being serious.

You were so surprised it took you a couple of seconds to respond. “Are you fucking insane? I don’t know you!” You didn’t want to say no, but it was fucking insane that he was asking you that, you didn’t know each other’s name.

This dude was completely crazy, 100%. You didn’t know how you found yourself in that situation, but there you were. In a hole, in the forest, with a crazy dude who wanted to make out. And what was more surprising: you were okay with that. The idea of making out with him wasn’t as bad as someone could think. You kinda wanted to say yes, but you also knew that was a bad idea.

“Well, we could know each other.” He proceeded to tell you everything that came to mind about himself as you looked at him astonished. Who the fuck was this guy and why did you find him so adorable? He kept talking and talking and his blush became more and more prominent as you stared. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna shut up now.” He went from weird to endearing very fast, your heart beating erratically inside your chest. You were charmed by that big fool.

“You are kind of adorable,” you blurted out. You covered your mouth instantly, you didn’t want that to escape.

“You think so?” He asked back, flushing harder. Cute.

“Yeah. I feel this…. This connection to you. I don’t understand why, I should be scared or anxious about it, but looking at you brings me some kind of calmness. It’s like I already knew you.” And it was true, you felt some kind of deep connection to him, like something inside of you could recognize something inside of him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and excited that you wanted to hug him and kiss the tip of his nose. What was wrong with you? “You a… Well, you see… Youaremymate.”

“I’m what?”

“You are my mate,” he told you, slower this time. At your confused look, he continued, “let me explain. So…. I’m a werewolf.” At your not-impressed look he changed before you. His face contorted and his bones cracked and before you knew it he was a fucking werewolf.

For both of your surprises, you didn’t scream, you didn’t panic, you just stared at him until your brain came back into action. “What the fuck!? How are you even real?!” You must have hit your head when you fell down. That’s it. That’s why the dude in front of you was a werewolf and why he was saying you were his mate. Yep, that’s the reason. He pinched your arm and you slapped his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“You aren’t dreaming. Or hit your head. I’m a werewolf and I’m real.” You stared at him for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple seconds. For some reason, you believed him and that made you question your sanity even more.

“You know what? I believe you. My life couldn’t get any messier, but apparently it can.” You laughed at that, hysterically. He looked at you with concern all over his face. “I’m okay, I’m okay…” You repeated as you wiped tears off the corner of your eyes. “I’m just having a bit of a breakdown.” He hugged you then, pulling you against his furry chest and embracing you tightly.

Weirdly enough, it made you calm down. Your breathing evening out to match his and your body relaxing in his arms. “So… do you want to make out?” He asked again, making you chuckle and looking up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” His kicked puppy face was answer enough. “Of course you are. I- No I don’t- You know what? I do. Let’s make out. If my life is going to get this crazy, I can surrender to it and also be insane.” You felt completely out of control, nothing made sense anymore and why not... Kissing a werewolf didn’t sound like the worst idea in that moment. He was handsome as fuck and he looked even better with all the furriness he had going on. You wanted to kiss him when he was human so… why not? Insanity was as good option as any other.

“You are not insa-” He didn’t finish that thought before you launched for his mouth and started kissing his wolfy face. The fangs against your lips made some deep part of you tingle. The danger and the anticipation making everything so intense you could feel your pussy getting wet. He sniffed the air and groaned against your mouth. “I can smell your desire,” he growled against your ear, breaking the kiss. You groaned in response, feeling hot all over.

You felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like your blood was made of lava and you were about to burn down completely. Your pussy felt so wet and so ready you could feel your heartbeat in your clit. “What is happening to me?” You asked, fanning yourself.

He looked down at you, guilty as fuck. “You started the mating process. You kissed me and now your body is going to react strongly to everything we do. You are going to get really horny, really soon.” You shook was rapidly replaced by a new wave of heat. Fuck. You groaned and kissed him again.

He tore a hole in your pants and ripped your panties, exposing your pussy to his hungry eyes. He stared at your center and slowly circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You cried out and came around his fingers.

“More. More. Give me your cock.” You were frantically pulling at his pants, trying to free what felt like a dick bigger than anything you’d experienced before. He got himself free and you gasped when you saw. It was different from humans, larger in every way, but also had a different shape. It was fat in the middle instead of the tip, and there was a big bulge at the base that looked incredibly to grind against. “Now. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you chanted. Your brain couldn’t understand anything else but the heat burning inside of you and his dick being the solution.

“Are you su-?” He tried to ask, but you weren’t having any of that. You needed to be fucked and you needed it NOW.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’-” He grabbed your hips and lowered you to his dick in a second, his dick fitting inside of you in one long thrust that had you throwing your head back and crying out in ecstasy. It was perfect. His dick was perfect.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his girth, he started a punishing pace, his hands on your hips as he moved you up and down. You were grateful for that, your legs turned into jelly and you doubted you could do anything to help him right now. His movements were perfect but not enough. You rubbed your clit frantically as he told you how pretty you were, how good you looked and how lucky he was having a mate as beautiful as you.

You came apart in his lap. Once, twice, three times… He wasn’t stopping. He had super stamina or something like that because his dick was hitting all your perfect spots and you were seeing stars as he just kept going. Your pussy felt used, but you wanted more, so much more…

You needed, you needed something… Something. And then you felt it. “What is that?” You asked between groans, your body limp because of the pleasure.

He grunted and moved your hips up and down faster, making you see stars. “My knot. Do you- Do you want that?” You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into, but too lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

It took some work, but he moved your hips against it until it was coated in your juices and it could slip inside. You blacked out for a couple seconds when you felt the extreme fullness inside of you. Your pussy was stretched to the max and it felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You felt like you reached nirvana. And then you could feel him coming inside of you, so much, so hot and fast… You were being stuffed, and it felt... marvelous.

You came a couple more time grinding his knot against your G-spot and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you deflated against his front. His knot was still firm inside of you, spurting cum every once in a while. You didn’t care anymore, you could take a nap right there.

“Can I confess something to you?” He broke the silence, his hands caressing your back in a hypnotizing motion.

“Well, it’s not like we can move, can we?” You asked, his knot firmly pressed inside of you. You rolled your hips experimentally and groaned at the sensation. So good.

“I hid the hole so you’d fall into it,” he confessed, hiding his wolfy face in your neck, licking that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. The combination of his knot pressing onto your G-spot and the licking was making your brain foggy with pleasure.

But then his words registered, “Dude, what?!”

[pochaccoups]

achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues. 

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you. 

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again. 

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek. 

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso. 

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again. 

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness. 

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him. 

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…” 

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful. 

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent. 

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that. 

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly. 

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on. 

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort. 

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs. 

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him. 

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible. 

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little. 

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks. 

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him. 

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam. 

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you. 

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name. 

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper. 

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader. 

“You’re really teasing me right now?” 

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little. 

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still. 

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?” 

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough. 

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her. 

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent. 

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you. 

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm. 

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you. 

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses. 

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

[jungwondazed]

18+ only. / desperate passionate sex with jungwon

he comes onto you in the middle of the night, catching you off guard as you were just about to fall asleep.

"j-jungwon i don't- understand" you breathe out the words in between the breaks he pulls from your lips, leaning back in to kiss you harder than the previous.

there are moments, not often, when he gets this way and it is something you ponder every time he works his mouth deep into yours. he kisses you like it was the first time, the last time. jungwon is making out like he has something to confess, that there's too much on his mind to speak in words, that giving it to you like this is the best way for him to say anything.

you kiss him back regardless of the questions racing through your head. this isn't a kiss he initiates because he was simply turned on, there was a certain desperation behind his movements that makes you lean into his body, to connect with him in the way he needs.

his moans are long, drawn out, as if there was nothing else that mattered in the world but the pleasure you two share with each other.

with his mouth still attached to yours he pulls off your thin pajama set, lips slowly working down your neck, to your collarbones, and then your chest. your head falls back from the overwhelming sensation of his warm and soft tongue, fingers digging in his hair, pulling at it gently as he stimulates your entire body.

you know jungwon a bit too well. when he's horny, he initiates sex in his snarky teasing manner that always has you high and bothered. but when you find yourself tending to his needs, softening your touches, letting him have at you as a natural reaction to his desperation, you're more than aware that the sex he wants is far from just the physicality, jungwon was craving for a deep emotional connection and sometimes this was the best he could go about it.

he comes off confident, carrying himself like he had it all figured out. but throughout your time with him, you've learned that there is a small part deep down that seeks for validation and comfort, searching in places he can't necessarily figure out himself.

he breaks the kiss to peel his thin white sleep shirt off, immediately finding your lips again when he tosses it to the side. he wraps his arm under your waist to press your stomach close to his, pulling off his pajama bottoms and lining himself into you. you gasp as he sinks in slow, struggling a whine that's stuck between his throat and mouth.

jungwon's moans are full of longing and desperation, and your heart aches feeling him so troubled from such desire.

"i'm r-right h-here, jungwon" you whimper out between his thrusts, and he groans into your neck as a response.

"i'm yours, however y-you want me."

he fits good inside you, it's hard to form the right words to tell him how you truly feel. but despite your poor articulation of emotions to words, he reacts in a way that lets you know he's taking in everything you're saying and doing. he thrusts into you deeper and harder, bringing both his arms to wrap around your entire body, holding you so tight as if any less of a grip would have your falling right through his fingers, as if he was too capable of losing you.

[bookwormjust]

A...strange situation (established relationship with Azriel, Elain as the bad person thinking you are just an obstacle to get Azriel)

The tension in the room is palpable. You can feel it in the way the Inner Circle exchanges quiet glances, in the way Azriel’s shadows seem to coil closer to him, whispering around his form as if anticipating a storm. The dinner had started peacefully enough, but it quickly shifted when Elain began making pointed remarks, her usually soft and gentle tone laced with something sharper.

You’ve caught her staring at Azriel all night, her eyes lingering on him longer than they should. She hasn’t realized yet—hasn’t *seen*—the bond that connects you and Azriel, hasn’t noticed the way his gaze never strays from you for long, the way his body naturally angles toward yours, protective and steady.

Then it happens.

Elain, her smile tight and eyes gleaming with something that’s no longer kindness, turns her attention to you. Her voice is deceptively sweet as she says, “I don’t have to press myself against Azriel to get his attention.” Her words hang in the air, thinly veiled aggression slipping into the space between you. “I don’t have to throw myself at him or—” she glances at your chest, her meaning clear, “put my breasts in his face to be noticed.”

The room goes dead silent. 

Azriel’s hand, which had been resting lightly on your thigh under the table, tightens. His eyes darken, his jaw clenching in a way that shows he’s barely holding back his anger. His shadows react instantly, swirling more fiercely around him, curling protectively toward you. Though he says nothing—yet—the tension radiating from him is undeniable.

Across the table, Mor lets out a sharp laugh, the sound biting through the silence. She leans back in her chair, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of anger. “Oh, Elain,” she drawls, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

Elain stiffens, clearly caught off guard, her gaze darting to Mor, then back to you. She’s confused, not realizing the deeper dynamics at play here.

Feyre shifts uncomfortably beside Rhysand, her brow furrowing as she gives her sister a warning look, but Rhys merely leans back in his chair, eyes glinting with quiet amusement as he watches the scene unfold, ready to intervene if necessary. Cassian, on the other hand, has gone entirely still, his usually playful demeanor replaced by something harder as his gaze flicks between you, Azriel, and Elain. Nesta, seated next to him, glares at her sister with sharp disapproval, clearly not amused by her antics.

Azriel, finally breaking the tense silence, turns his head slowly to Elain. His voice, when he speaks, is dangerously calm. “Elain,” he says, his words measured and clipped. “You will not speak to her like that again.”

Elain falters, her eyes widening slightly at his tone, but she still doesn’t understand. She thinks she has a chance with him, and that perhaps you’re the obstacle in her way. But she doesn’t know—*doesn’t feel*—what you and Azriel have. She tries to respond, to say something else, but Azriel cuts her off.

“I am hers,” he states simply, the finality in his words ringing through the room. He glances down at you, his gaze softening, the bond between you two thrumming with warmth and certainty. “I always have been.”

Elain’s face drains of color as the weight of his words sinks in. She glances between the two of you, slowly beginning to realize what she’s missed all this time. She opens her mouth, as if to say something in defense, but Mor cuts her off with a sharp, mocking laugh.

“Gods, this is priceless,” Mor says, grinning widely. “She really thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Elain, you don’t have a clue.”

Feyre clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation before it spirals further. “Elain,” she says softly, though her tone holds an edge of frustration, “I think it’s time we moved on from this conversation.”

But the damage has been done. Elain looks utterly humiliated, her previous confidence crumbling as she realizes not only the mistake she’s made but also that the entire Inner Circle has rallied behind you. Her eyes flick to you one last time, filled with a mix of confusion and resentment, before she looks away.

Azriel, ever calm but protective, leans close to you, his hand never leaving your side. “You’re more patient than I am,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “I wouldn’t have let her get away with saying that.”

You smile softly, leaning into his warmth, feeling the strength of your bond pulsing between you. “She didn’t know,” you reply gently, though there’s a firmness in your words too. “But now she does.”

And with that, the tension slowly begins to fade from the room, though Elain remains quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening. Azriel stays close to you, his touch and presence a constant reminder of the bond that ties you together, one that no one—not even Elain—can ever come between.

[naturesapphic]

heyyyy!!! if u can could u write a fic where the reader and billie are best friends but it all changes when the reader jokes about calling billie “mommy” but billie gets turned on by it (turns into smut if possible) 💞💞💞💞💞💞

Mommy? Sorry? Mommy?

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering

“Billie!” You giggled out as billie was telling you a hook up gone wrong and the two of you were laughing y’all’s asses off about it. “Then- then! She she moaned out another girls name!” Billie said gasping dramatically which made you laugh harder. “Oh my God! That’s awful! How do you get with such weirdos?” You ask your best friend and she shrugs, fixing the hat on her head. “Don’t know but don’t get on to me! You hook up with weirdos too!” She laughed out, showing the metal in her teeth.

You roll your eyes playfully and shove her gently making her giggle. “Well it sounds like my weirdos aren’t worse than yours.” You clap back and she shakes her head. “What’s the craziest name someone called you during sex?” You ask Billie and she thinks for a moment. “Mommy.” She says bluntly and you stifle your giggle. “Mommy? Sorry? Mommy?” You tease and Billies face got red in the face from your words. “Say it again.” She spoke in a quiet whisper and you felt your whole body get chills. “Uh….mommy? I mean they weren’t wrong. You give off such huge mommy and daddy vibes so-“ you said but got interrupted by Billie’s lips ghosting over yours.

“B-Billie?” You whisper and she smiles, looking deep into your eyes. “I give off daddy and mommy vibes?” She asks, making sure she heard you right. “That’s what I just said yes-“ you said with a bit of attitude that made Billie roll her eyes but still had a smile plastered on her face. “I want to make you moan it.” She confessed and you felt your face go tomato red from her words. The two of you didn’t say anything for a few seconds until you surged forward and connected your lips with your best friends. Billie kissed back immediately and pushed you gently on your back so it hits the couch cushions. She pulls back for a moment and takes off her jacket, leaving her in her oversized shirt and pants. “Is this okay? I don’t want to go further if you don’t want this.” Billie asks with softness laced in her voice.

“Y-yes I want this. I want you bils…” you stated and Billie’s lips curved up into a huge smile that made your heart melt. She leaned back down to capture your lips to hers again and started taking off your pants, leaving you in your underwear. She rips your panties off and pulls away to look at you. “Fuck…so gorgeous…” she groans as she takes in the beauty of your glistening pussy. She goes back to kissing you and then starts attacking your neck, her hands go to your hips as she spreads your legs wide. Billie starts rubbing your cunt softly with her fingers, the coolness of her rings making you shiver and moan. “You’re so wet Angel…so wet for me…” she says in a low voice making your pussy clench. She inserts two fingers into you making you gasp out in surprise, your walls swallowing her fingers easily.

Billie pumped her fingers as she used her thumb to start attacking your clit. “O-oh….b-Billie!” You moan out and Billie stops her movements making you whine out. “Tsk tsk…you know that’s not my name baby…”. Billie reminds you and you whimpered. “Mommy..” you whisper and she smiles, pumping her fingers at an ungodly pace. You throw your head back and chanted mommy over and over again. “G-gonna cum mommy!” You moan out as you felt the tightness in your stomach. “Let go baby. Be a good girl for mommy and cum.” She sweetly instructed. You moaned at her words and came all over her fingers making her groan. She pulls out and places her fingers in her mouth, moaning at your taste. “Maybe you should call me mommy more.”

A/n: thank you for the amazing request anon! I hope you and everyone else enjoyed! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)

[etherealxwitch]

warnings: smut (mdni!), slight soft dom!steve, begging, praise, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, pretty heavy breeding kink

huge shoutout to @chaoticharrington for helping me with this <3 ilysm

Steve is desperate for you when he comes from work, more than just desperate if that were possible. He can’t stop helplessly grinding his hips against you, holding himself off as much as he can before he fucks you. He angles his hips perfectly. So perfect that the leaky tip of his cock rubs against your throbbing clit, making you clench around nothing.

“Tell me,” his voice comes out almost hoarse from the neediness taking over his body. “Tell me how much you need me to fuck you, baby girl.”

Steve’s fingers dig into your hips harshly as he speaks, accentuating his demand. You’re sure bruises will bloom over your skin by the time morning comes.

Your nails scratch down his back as your legs wrap around his hips tighter. “I need you inside me,” your voice is weak from all the teasing. You aren’t sure how much more you could take before taking over. “I want you to fill me up, make it hard to move tomorrow… please.”

It’s not hard to tell that you were just as desperate as he was. Both of your bodies were on fire with the need to feel each other closely… him inside of you, you wrapped tightly around him.

He doesn’t give it another thought before he quickly slid the full length of his cock inside your cunt. His heavy, cum- filled balls pressed tightly against your ass cheeks. He has you fully stuffed with nothing else left to give.

“Oh my fucking god.” A chill runs down Steve’s spine as a primal urge takes over. He gives you no time to adjust as he starts to snap his hips against yours roughly. “Fuck, pretty girl. That’s it, take it.”

The feeling of being so full had your thighs shaking already. “Steve…Steve,” you could only muster up his name and broken sobs as his cock throbs inside you.

He leans down until his face is inches from yours, lips barely brushing against yours. “I know, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sweat starts to form on his forehead the harder he fucks into you.

“Oh my god- yes!” Your back nearly arches off the bed. Steve practically knocks all the air from your lungs. “Feels so fucking good, Stevie!”

As you look up at him, he looks down at you. Neither of you could take peel your eyes away, too infatuated with the way each other look, already so fucked out.

Steve roughly grabs your hips, pinning them to the bed. “Gonna pump you full of cum, get you pregnant all for me- shit!.” He looks down at you and grabs your chin to force you to look at him. “C’mon, answer me, baby.”

With rough hands, he pushes your knees toward your chest. “Got you in the perfect position to watch your cunt take every inch.” His eyes are glued to where you two connect.

You can’t stop the pornographic screams falling from your open mouth in this new position. He somehow felt deeper than ever, hitting every spot inside you that made your toes curl. “You’re so fucking deep- oh!”

“Yeah?” Steve let out a chuckle before he groaned deeply, “you feel so good wrapped around me, so tight and warm.”

His chest is starting to flush from how hard he was fucking you, giving everything he has and then some. He’s making it known just how much he needed you today.

His words have your mind spinning. You would do anything to make him happy.

“Fuck- whatever you want.” Your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake as his cock brings you closer to the edge. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

The two of you groan, moan, and whine in unison. Pleasure fuels your bodies, leaving you both breathless, and wanting more.

His head falls forward, cock twitching at your words. “Need you to cum for me.” It was a demand, nothing less than that.

Steve craved to feel you squeeze around him as you cum, it was a need.

Your body obeys him as you cum around his cock with a scream of his name. “Yes, yes, yes!” It feels like your body has a mind of its own, convulsing under him. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“That’s my good girl,” he spits on your clit and rubs harsh circles, bringing you closer to release.

Your orgasm spurs on Steve’s own. His hips stutter, and groans reverberate through his body as he spills deep inside of you, filling you just like he said he would. “Take it fucking- god dammit- take it all.” His teeth grit, his head thrown back.

Moans and wet skin slapping against skin echo off the walls as you both come down.

“My god, Steve.” You let out a breathy laugh, looking up at him. “What gotten into you?”

He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “You, and the thought of your wet, warm pussy had me worked up all day.” He leans down and presses sweet, soft kisses across your cheeks. “I had to come home and do something about it.”

Gently, you run your fingers through his hair, helping you both relax. “Come home like that every day, and I won’t complain about another thing in my life.”

When he finally pulls out, you whimper from the sudden loss of being filled. Both of your mixed arousals start leaking onto the bed, but not before Steve can scoop it up and shove it back inside your now sore cunt.

“Gotta make this one stick, baby.”

[chestersturniolo]

𐌕Ꮤ𐌉𐌔𐌕𐌄𐌃

• inspired by “Robbers” The 1975 •

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

- robber!chris -

warnings; guns, violence

•

“The money didn’t matter. It never had. It was something deeper. This is your world, where nothing else matters but the rush, the chaos, and each other.”

•

The fluorescent lights of the 7-Eleven buzzed above, casting a clinical glow over the empty parking lot. You glance over at Chris, his face hidden behind the balaclava, just like yours. His eyes however are glinting, filled with that familiar, wild excitement. The kind that made your heart race, not with fear—but with thrill. You both had done this before. The money didn’t matter. It never had. It was something deeper. This is your world, where nothing else matters but the rush, the chaos, and each other.

Chris reaches behind you, firmly tapping your ass twice with his gloved hand. it’s your code—two taps. it’s always been that way, a silent message that says it’s time.

Two taps—and the world shifts.

The pit of your stomach churns, but it’s not nerves. It’s adrenaline. You love this feeling. You love him. It’s all a rush, the kind that pulls you closer together every time.

With that, you both start running towards the door. Chris swings it open with you following closely behind, the bell overhead chiming like a death knell. The lone cashier barely looks up before Chris strides over, gun in hand.

“Hands up!” Chris barks, his voice hard and filled with venom. The cashier freezes, his eyes wide with shock. Immediately raising his hands. Not a hero type. Perfect.

“P-please—”

“Shut up” Chris snaps, stepping closer, the barrel of the gun just inches from the man’s face now. “Dont fucking move”

You slip behind the counter, your fingers moving automatically to the register. The familiar click of buttons sends a pulse of calm through you—this part is yours. You’ve done this before, you’ll do it again. Chris handles the heat; you handle the take.

The cashier makes a small, jerky movement, maybe instinctual, but Chris is on him in an instant. “What did I just say?” he spits through gritted teeth, his hand pushing the gun harder against the guy’s head. The man stiffens again, you can feel Chris’s intensity, his anger barely contained, and somehow, it only sharpens your focus.

You get the register open, the cash spilling out in neat stacks. Your hands move fast, grabbing everything in sight, your heart pounding louder in your ears with every second.

“Come on, babe-“ Chris calls over to you, his voice still hard but laced with that twisted sense of pride. “-You got this. Quick and clean.”

You glance up at him for just a second, feeling that pulse, that connection between you two, like this dangerous game is the only place the world makes sense. He shoots you a wink—a gesture just for you, like a promise, like he’s telling you we own this moment.

You stuff the last of the bills into the bag, zipping it up with swiftly. You’re fast, you’re good. And Chris knows it.

“Thats my girl” he murmurs, his voice softer now, only meant for you. It’s like no one else is there. Just you and him in this twisted bubble you’ve created. No consequences. Just the thrill.

The cashier makes a small, pathetic whimper, his body trembling under Chris’s watch. “Please, don’t hurt me—”

Chris growls “You keep y’mouth shut, and I won’t”

There’s a beat of silence, tension thick in the air “Let’s go” you whisper,

Chris backs away slowly, the gun still trained on the cashier, his steps deliberate and controlled. “You remember this-” he says, his voice filled with menace. “-don’t do anything stupid once we’re gone, or you’ll wish you hadn’t”

The cashier nods frantically, too scared to even breathe. Chris shoots you one last glance, that dark look of satisfaction crossing his face as he jerks his head toward the door. You both slip out into the cool night air, your heart still hammering in your chest, the rush of the moment still pulsing through you.

Chris grabs your hand as the two of you start to run, the sound of your feet hitting the pavement syncing up, like the beat of your hearts, like the rhythm of this insane life you’ve built together.

The bag of money swings at your side, you glance over at Chris, and suddenly, he breaks into this deep, wicked laugh—dark and unhinged. It spreads through you instantly, and before you know it, you’re laughing too, the sound wild and uncontrollable. The both of you howling like you’ve completely lost your minds.

You don’t stop running, both of you panting, adrenaline coursing through your bodies.

Once you’re far enough, hidden in the shadows, Chris pulls you close, his breath warm against your neck through the fabric of his mask. “That was perfect-” he whispers breathlessly, his voice full of pride. “-you’re perfect.“

And in this strange, chaotic way, it feels like you are.

~~~~~

You and Chris sit on the worn-out couch, the same one you’ve spent countless nights on. The adrenaline hasn’t faded yet, not completely. It lingers, buzzing under your skin as you empty the bag between you, the crumpled bills spilling out onto the coffee table. It isn’t about the money, but something about counting it afterward feels like part of the ritual, part of the bond.

Chris leans back, his balaclava pushed up onto his forehead now, revealing that grin of his, that wild spark still dancing in his eyes. He watches you as you start organizing the money, stacking it in neat little piles.

“Look at you-” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “-you looked so good out there tonight”

Your hands pause for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks, but you keep counting. There’s no hiding the way your pulse quickens when he talks like that, especially after a job like this. He knows it.

“You should’ve seen yourself-” he continues, his tone both proud and admiring. “-fast, sharp... just like I taught you” His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s a playful gleam in them. “My very own little bandit, huh? movin’through that store like you owned the place”

You glance up at him, biting back a smile. Bandit. It fits. You love how he sees you—fearless, bold, someone who can stand next to him in all this madness. There’s a part of you that craves this chaos, craves the way he looks at you when you’re in the thick of it together. Like you’re both untouchable.

“You’re not so bad yourself-” you reply, leaning back, “-I mean, the way you handled that guy?”

Chris chuckles as he reaches out, his hand gripping your thigh as he leans in a little closer. “You’re the one who keeps me sharp ma—couldn’t do it without you”

His fingers trace lazy circles over your thigh, his touch grounding you, reminding you that this is your world, the one you’ve built together. A world that no one else understands, but that makes perfect sense to the two of you.

You lean in, closing the distance between you, your lips connecting. It’s not just about the crime, not really. It’s about this—this moment where everything feels electric and alive, where nothing else matters but you, him and the wild, reckless freedom that comes with being together.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, that grin still plastered across his face. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “You n me, baby. Against the world.”

•

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n - i think this is possibly my favourite thing i’ve written, maybe it’s the raging 1975 fan in me idk, but i love this concept of robber!chris x reader and their twisted relationship/recklessness i think it’s hot as fuck. i’m planning on doing more on their relationship, headcannons, blurbs, more fics etc. lemme know what you think, i hope you enjoyed it!!

r̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞b̳̿͟͞b̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞r̳̿͟͞!c̳̿͟͞h̳̿͟͞r̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞s̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞ l̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞d̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞g̳̿͟͞….

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay @sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere jock x male reader forced boyfriend. Jock forced you to be his boyfriend and tried everything he could to have sex with you, you refused, leaving him needy and horny. So he drugs the food with aphrodisiac when he gives you a snack

Yandere Jock x Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, drugging, dubcon, semi-public sex

You had to be the unluckiest guy in the world. Things were supposed to be fine. Your plan was to just fly under the radar until graduation, and you almost made it.

Until he came along.

People envied you, getting to date the hot, popular jock despite not being not very popular yourself. But none of them realize how hellish it is! You never even liked him in the first place! The only reason you two were dating was because of some stupid blackmail he had.

The two of you couldn't even have one conversation without him practically begging to fuck you. But there was no way you'd ever let him! You'd rather let him spill your secrets!

Other than that (and the jealousy issues, and the possessiveness, and the threats, and everything else awful about him) he was sometimes kind of nice. It wasn't uncommon for him to bring you snacks or drinks.

So one morning when he came to you with a bottle of water a granola bar, you didn't think much of it. You didn't have breakfast that day anyway.

But you quickly realized something was wrong. Very wrong.

The whole morning after eating that stupid little granola bar your mind has been fuzzy, your body needy. The only thing you could seem to think of was how much your cock needed attention.

You couldn't even make it to lunch. While everyone else enjoyed their break and ate the world's worst food, you were hiding in a bathroom stall jerking off. It was pathetic. One hand covered your mouth as the other desperately fisted your cock.

You didn't even stop when you heard someone coming in. You just bit your hand and tried harder to hold back your pathetic moans.

Until you heard his voice.

"I know you're in there, darling. Let me in so I can help you out."

How did he know?! This finally made you stop your actions, pre-cum making your hand sticky.

"If you don't let me in, I'll just crawl under the stall door. I'm not afraid to get a little dirty. I've waited too damn long for you to finally be ready for me."

He pounded on the door, making it rattle. What were you supposed to do? You didn't want him...but you probably needed some help with this, and if he's going to come in anyway, you might as well not struggle too much...

Barely pulling your pants back up, you shakily unlocked and opened the stall door. He barged in and closed the door again, making sure to lock it. He didn't waste a second in connecting his lips with yours harshly as he pushed you against the cold wall and pulled your pants down, making sure they dropped to your ankles.

"Look who's needy now..." He lowered his own pants just enough for his erection to spring free, and it was larger than you had anticipated. As if the world would end if he didn't penetrate you fast enough, he turned you around so your back was facing him and forced his way into your ass.

He let out a loud moan as your warmth enveloped him. "Now you listen here. Don't you dare let me miss out on hearing your moans, got it? Be loud. I want everyone to know who you belong to."

With that, he thrust into you at a brutal pace. One of his hands found its way around your body to hold you by the neck, just tight enough so you could really feel it without choking.

His free hand caressed your ass cheeks gently, then slapped them hard enough to leave a mark. Even if it weren't for him demanding you not muffle yourself, you weren't sure if you could. It was impossible not to moan and scream with pleasure and he caressed and used your sensitive body.

If you could think straight, you'd be more concerned about all the noise. Surely anyone would hear if they simply walked past. But it was impossible to think of anything except how his cock was rearranging your guts.

"Fuck, you look so damn good like this...! You have no clue how long I've been waiting for this moment..." He leaned in and gently nibbled your earlobe, moving down to bite and kiss your shoulders.

His hand, previously on your ass, moved around to your twitching cock. He fisted you, his pace very slow compared to the intense and desperate way he was demolishing your hole.

"Cum for me, I know you want to."

And oh lord did you. You swear you've never shot such a large load. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac?

Feeling your hot cum coat his hand, he soon filled you with his own seed, the grip he had on your neck tightening.

How you wished you could say that was the end...

Okay, this one I think is probably good!

[netegf]

So We Won't Forget

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

warnings: 18+, sensitive topics such as death and mourning, use of Y/N, fluff and flirting, challenging sibling dynamics, smut (P in V, size kink, lots of praise, some teasing), mentions of past drug use, rafe is reforming (?) lol

word count: 7.7 k

Rafe didn’t know what he was thinking.

He knew Barry had given him the bright pink flier as a joke more than anything else. And he’d taken it as a joke, at least after the initial roll of his eyes, too. Ended up crumpling the sheet of paper and chucking it into the garbage can near his bedside, muttering some iteration of ‘yeah man, that’s real funny’.

His dad was dead. For real, this time. He didn’t need some corny grief support group where people sat in a circle and sang their sorrows.

He needed a fucking time machine.

Still, he had done it.

Sleep was getting harder and harder to find these nights. The temperature never felt right.

Too hot when he pulled white sheets up and over his bare hips and too cold when he let them slip down to his feet.

He rolled his body over to his side with the intention of scrolling through his phone which had become increasingly dry since his return from Guadeloupe.

But then his hand was reaching down into the garbage can and he was squinting in the dark to make out an address he’d never seen before.

It was no wonder why. The Church was so far in the outskirts of Figure 8, it might as well have been on the Cut. But it wasn't, and that was one of the only reasons why he'd reconciled with making the drive.

It was a shoddy building with peeling paint and a slanted roof, and it took him a whole twenty minutes to step outside of his truck and through the front doors.

The place gave him the chills. He felt better thinking it was because it was so run-down and he was a Kook through and through, but a part of him knew it was for a different reason entirely. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t burst into flames upon entry. It wasn't long ago that he’d melted a fucking cross for Christ’s sake.

Like the man standing at the entry-way can read his mind, he claps a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and flashes him a reassuring smile. He must've been staring guardedly at the blocked off pew.  

“We just use the space on this side of the building.” The man says, gesturing to the large room with groups of scattered chairs and a long table at the back with pastries and refreshments. “There’s no, uh,” he clears his throat, then continues with a knowing glance, “religious affiliation.”

Rafe manages a nod, his fingers feeling numb and jittery all at once. His eyes rake over the room once more. More specifically, the people in it.

Some of them look like they’re itching to talk, while others look so boxed up it makes the silence in the room more chilling. Rafe decides he connects more with the latter, but there’s a spot he can’t quite reach at the swell of his shoulder blade that suddenly feels like it could use a good scratch.

“I’m Leon, by the way. The program manager.” The man, Leon, introduces himself. “Help yourself to some snacks, then grab a seat. We’ll start shortly.”

Leon shoots Rafe another smile, then saunters over to the front of the room where he sits down by a dingy whiteboard. 

Briefly, he wrestles the impulse to sprint out through the double-doors and scrub the very essence of the place off his body in a scalding shower. Sterile and dizzying, just how he likes them. 

But then his feet are trudging clumsily toward the snack table, and he downs a hot cup of coffee that splashes uncomfortably against the acid in his stomach before filling an empty chair at the back. 

"Let's see. As you take your seats and feel out the room, some of you might be asking yourselves why you even bothered to show up. Why don't we take a moment to remind ourselves why?"

To you, the introduction by the man you now know as Leon leaves something to be desired. A reminder wouldn't be necessary because forgetting wasn't the problem. 

The problem was your best friend was gone, and nothing in the world could get your mind off it. It was a strange kind of irony, really, talking about her so you could end up talking about her less. 

What better place and time was there to mourn than the beautiful Outer Banks in the summer?

At least, that's what your mother had said in a chipper tone as you rode the ferry off the mainland together.

Taking in the ambience of your surroundings, you seriously doubt she's right. The AC is blasting and you still feel sweat beading on your forehead. The place had the humidity of a greenhouse and none of the natural light. 

"We'll start our conversation small. With a partner." Leon says, breaking you out of your trance. "I'll walk around the room and pair you up."

The friendly man that Leon is, it takes him a while to get to the back of the room where he pauses in front of you.

"Alright, so that leaves... you two!"

Leon points vaguely to a figure sitting at the far corner, who lifts his head for a second to meet your eyes. A flash of blue before he looks back down again. You notice that he's not moving a muscle and probably doesn't intend to. 

"Guess I'll come to you." You mutter shortly under your breath, dragging your chair behind you as you move closer. 

Taking a seat in front of the quiet stranger, the first thing you notice is that the top of his head is pretty. Then he lifts his chin and you come to realize that the rest of him is even prettier. 

Dirty blonde hair that seems to be growing out after a cut sticks to his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. Angular jaw, beautiful blue eyes, soft pink lips pressed into a frown. He gazes at you suspiciously. 

"Rafe." 

Your eyebrows furrow, temporarily stalling your ogling. "What?"

"My name." He squints at you, pointing a slender finger to the whiteboard on which Leon has messily scrawled the words: 'introduce yourselves and explain why you're here'. 

"Rafe." You repeat, trying the name out in your mouth. It feels harsh but satisfying. Like a swear word. "I'm Y/N." 

He nods, but doesn't say anything else, his eyes flickering between the floor and a black truck you can make out through the window - like he's worried it might disappear. 

You steal a glance at the pairs around you who seem to be getting far deeper into conversation than the two of you. 

"I think we're supposed to talk." You mumble.

Rafe nods again, and his lips part for a moment, but then they close again. You fight the urge to glare at Leon for dooming your progress before it could even begin.

"I can go first." You offer with a shaky breath. "I'm here because my best friend, Stacy... died. It was, um, a car crash." 

Hating the way the silence intensifies between you, you continue. 

"I don't really know what to say. Just that she was kind of my favourite person. And she, uh... always made me feel like I was the only one in the room, you know? She just wanted to make you laugh and it was like nothing else mattered. Just us, living in our own little world."

Rafe feels a certain tightness in his chest, pressing down on his sternum.

"You're lucky." He scoffs.

It makes your face fall.

He'd tried to make it sound like a good thing, but it came out ugly, like it always seemed to. 

"I'm... lucky that my friend died in a violent car crash? Gee, Rafe. Your empathy has no bounds.” 

The turn of your voice makes Rafe's spine stiffen, his brows stiffly pinched together as he attempts to soothe over his words.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, okay?" 

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Suddenly, the lips that you once thought were pretty look more like what they really are. Annoying, when they move. His crisp blue polo and stupidly expensive watch are starting to get on your nerves.

"I just meant that you - look, at least you had her. That's more than a lot of people can say."

That was rich coming from a guy that looked like he had everything in the world at his disposal.

"Who'd you lose? Your gardener?" You quip. 

Rafe stares bitterly then looks down at his lap where his fingers are fidgeting.  

"My dad."

You feel your stomach churn with guilt, face getting hot.

It's the way he says it that pains you. Like it hurts him physically to get the words out. You know that feeling like the back of your hand. You wish you didn't, but you do.

Suddenly, Rafe's rigidity feels less abrasive and more heartbreaking. You wonder how long it's been, hesitant to ask because it might make you feel worse. Maybe you deserved it for leading with pettiness instead of compassion. You remind yourself that you're grieving and messy, too. 

"Oh." You choke out when an apology feels tight on your tongue.

He lifts his head up to meet your eyes, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah. Oh."

"I shouldn't have said that, Rafe. I'm sorry." 

"No, I get it. I shouldn't have said that either. That way, at least. I'm trying to be better at... not saying the wrong thing." He breathes, shoulders falling. "I fuck it up constantly."

"You're not, you didn't." You shake your head. "I'm just on edge. Plus, I get really cranky when I'm hot, and it's boiling in here. Promise." 

You feel a sense of relief when he cracks a smile at that, wanting to savour it. 

"And...," you trail off, catching his attention. 

"And?"

Your gaze runs over him, from the top of his handsome face, down to his shiny designer boots. 

"You're textbook Kook. I guess my whole 'eat the rich' thing got the best of me." 

Rafe laughs softly, feeling a rush in his chest. For a second, he's not thinking about a certain series of events that looms over him everywhere he goes like some sort of 'never off the clock' paralysis demon. Nor any of the bad decisions he made that led him up to that point and drove him deeper into the ground after the fact. He remembers back when he was just a regular asshole. An arrogant rich kid with poor impulse control and penchant for adrenaline. 

He's debated if he would choose to go back thousands of times. 

Part of him wants to.

He had a lot less to worry about. More parties to throw, more girls to take up to his bedroom after very little flirting on his part, more blow to keep him heady and distracted.

Help keep his mind off of the arguments with his dad.

His dad, who blew a hole in his life, and now, was gone... forever. It's something he'd imagined more times than he could count, but he would have never guessed this feeling. 

Nothing felt good anymore. Like he didn't deserve any release because his dad wasn't here to give him shit, so he'd endured nothing to warrant it. He'd started feeling guilty, more than usual, and in a more physical sense. He could feel it when he woke up. Maybe it was the guilt that woke him up every day, gasping for air and clutching his chest. It was starting to sink in and sometimes he spent the whole of the night crying. It was like his soul was being reformed. He drove to a Church, instead of calling Barry, to feel something again. 

He secretly hoped for a big, ambiguous power that would slap him awake and help him trek forward like a strong wind behind his back. But believing took a certain lack of resistance and if his father's eyes were anything to go by, Rafe was stubborn like a grease stain.

Then there was the risk of believing and still watching everything spin into chaos around you. Feeling stupid that you hoped for something different.

But things are different now. 

He's still an asshole, sure. But he's trying to work on that. 

"You're not wrong." He admits, grinning slightly. "You been to the island before?"

"Couple times. I know how you guys talk." You shrug, amused at how the jargon piqued his interest. "It's been a pretty long time, though. Don't think we've ever met."

He nods, like that makes sense to him. You shiver when his blue eyes run you up and down. 

"I would've remembered you."

Before you can respond, Leon makes his way over to the two of you, smiling to himself, mostly, because the conversation he'd manufactured appeared to be a success.

"You two look chatty." He says brightly, eyes flickering over Rafe's posture, far more laid-back than when he first walked in. 

"Just doing what you asked." Rafe replies shortly.  

"Yeah, 'course. Just that you two seemed quiet, but turns out, you're chatty. It's nice, that's all. Keep up the good work, folks!" Leon says the last part loud enough for the room to hear, enthusiastically clapping his hands together while he does it. 

"Dude's weird." 

You chuckle at Rafe's comment, watching as Leon eagerly prods at another pair. You turn back to him and shrug. 

"Definitely weird. Kinda sweet, though?"

The rest of the session continues with Leon speaking to the group, promising that next time, sharing would take place in a larger circle for deeper community. You don't miss the way Rafe's knee bounces up and down next to you. At one point, you gently put one of your palms on his knee to keep it still. You feel his stare burning a hole in the side of your face, but you don't look at him. Just a hint of a smile on your lips. 

It makes Rafe nervous. He feels something different, and he likes it, but it makes him nervous. 

"Hey... you gonna come next week?" You ask him as you sling your bag over your shoulder, trying to make sure your voice doesn't sound so hopeful. 

He pauses for a second. 

"Uh, maybe. Maybe, I'm going to have to check on a few things first." By a few things, he meant Barry. Though they'd unloaded most of the cross gold, they still worked together sometimes. Mostly because they wanted to.

He was an unlikely friend. Gruff and hard to control, but in his corner.

If Rafe was going to show up again, he didn't want Barry finding out. He'd never hear the end of it - 'you're getting soft on me, Country Club!'.

"Okay." You chirp, turning to leave and taking all of three steps before stopping again with your bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

Fuck it. 

"Hey Rafe?" You spin back, sounding hopeful and a little desperate, but honest, at least, because you are those things. 

"Yeah?" He breathes, eyes falling all around you. 

"I really hope you come."

Quickly, you turn back around and make your way to the door, hand barely gripping the knob when you finally hear his voice.

"Y/N."

You look over your shoulder to meet tender blue eyes. 

"I'll be there."

Turns out, sharing circles are harder than they look. For Rafe, at least. 

You spoke about Stacy so easily. You spoke well of her so easily.

When Rafe heard your shaky exhales next to him, he clamped his warm, calloused hand over yours on instinct, listening thoughtfully to the way you described her favourite hobbies. The ones you loved along with her, and the ones you loved to make fun of her for. It was a good reminder for him, that the fruits of his instincts could be tender. An animal with at least some softness. He wasn't always so sure.

He spent a fair amount of time comforting Sarah and Wheezie when they cried as kids, but he was also usually the reason they started crying in the first place. 

After that first meeting, you awkwardly made your way out of the Church and Rafe followed behind you shortly after. When he watched you undo your bike lock, he puffed his red cheeks out and approached you with a slight shake in his knees. He wasn't nervous, it was just hot out - is what he tried to convince himself. 

He offered you a ride back to the house you were staying at with your mom in exchange for your number. You strapped yourself in his passenger seat with a smile on your lips and a special kind of spark flared up in your chest, the kind that makes you acutely aware of the sweat coating the back of your neck, sticking the hair to the skin, when your eyes met his in the rearview mirror. 

Rafe didn't look like the kind of guy that seemed well-intentioned when he asked for a girl's number. But he surprised you when he texted you once he got home. Then again all through the evening. And, in the days that followed. 

Between the texts and the phone calls, you covered a lot of ground. Now, Rafe knew about the time you peed yourself at an elementary school book fair, and you knew that he slept with his first dog's collar months after she died. You gushed about your favourite kinds of junk food while he raved about the hand-spun milkshakes at the club. 

Rafe's turn to speak in the circle was a mess, to say the least. He could hardly spit a few words about Ward, too busy navigating pregnant pauses and his newfound habit of stuttering. He thinks he might've called Ward 'nice', then very quickly grimaced after. When he heard his own voice through the rush in his ears, he thought it sounded nothing like him. He could barely even feel your gentle hand rubbing at his back when his words broke and cracked, leaving his throat with a nasty burn. 

Though Rafe knew his relationship with his dad was strained, he loved him.

It wasn't a comforting feeling, but it was the truth, and all he had. They both could have done better, he reminds himself. God knew that was true.

But at one point, he'd just been a kid. He needed help. He needed his father who always seemed to find business elsewhere. It made sense that talking about Ward was hard.

It made mourning him harder.

A perpetual flurry of emotions that kept his mind up at night and his hands restless. Anger and sadness always dominating the rest, but fighting their own fight with each other.

Anger when he thought about the ways his dad favoured Sarah.

Sadness when he remembered those rare early mornings Ward woke Rafe up for a surprise boat trip, just the two of them.

Back then, Rafe used to stay up entire nights in excitement at the prospect of spending some time alone with his father. Eventually, he had to force himself to accept that their last trip together had long passed, and right under his nose.

"Was it bad?" He groans, eyes screwed shut as he rubs a hand over his taut jaw, working lazily on a piece of gum.

He's still sitting when the room clears out. You stand to haul your bag over your shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile that he absorbs fully. Bright blue eyes drinking you in. 

"No, Rafe. It was fine. Everyone's too busy focusing on their own shit. You got through it just fine."

He gives you an unconvinced look, quirking a brow. Then he tugs at your bag, holding it instead. 

"You're lying." He frowns. With a hint of amusement in his voice, "God, and you're a bad liar, too."

Biting your lip, you take Rafe's hand in yours and drag him towards the exit, giggling quietly to yourself. He trails behind you, slowly shaking his head. He grins when you skip past the metal rack at the front of the building and pull him into the parking lot. You didn't bring your bike today. 

"C'mon, big guy. Let's get you a milkshake." You tease. "I know a place."

He rolls his eyes and laughs, letting you lead him in the opposite direction of his truck.

"You're going the wrong way, dumbass."

"I don't know, Rafe. It tastes kinda funny."

"That's because you mixed chocolate, vanilla, and peach. Who the fuck does that?"

Rafe sips on his chocolate milkshake as he sits across from you in the booth, an amused smirk tugging at his pink lips. The Island Club is somehow nicer inside than it is outside. The cherry-wood of the tables shines under the mood lighting and even near capacity, there's enough room for decent conversation. 

You pout, stirring your paper straw around in the metal cup. You perk up with an idea. 

"Let me try yours."

Rafe starts to laugh, eyes widening in protest. You're sweet, he thinks. He'd probably give you anything if you asked.

But that didn't mean he'd do it. He liked to think he was a little more challenging than that. 

"No, you made your bed." He shakes his head, gulping down another sip. It makes his Adam's apple bob. You stare mostly unashamed and lick your lips without thinking. "Now lie in it."

He watches your eyes get big for all of three seconds before realizing he'd lie right beside you.  

"Fuck, fine." He relents, taking his lip under his teeth, pang in his chest. "Don't look at me like that."

With two fingers, he pushes his cup in your direction and you hum happily as you sip from it. A sort of warm feeling in your stomach as you realize Rafe's mouth was on the same straw you're sucking on just moments before. 

"Do you know that guy? He's staring at you really hard." You mumble through the milkshake, but Rafe's eyes are fixated on your saliva-coated lips. 

"Huh?"

You turn your gaze to a guy at the bar. He's been staring at the back of Rafe's head for the better part of five minutes, squinting his eyes every so often as if to confirm it's really Rafe he's looking at. As he starts to come closer, you begin to understand why - his button-up shirt is half undone, his tawny brown hair disheveled, a far-away look in his blue eyes - he's drunk off his ass. 

Rafe turns to look. 

"Shit. Yeah, he's my sister's... long story." He sighs, forcing a smile as the guy approaches your table. "Hey, Top. What's going on, man?"

"Rafe!" The guy, Top, slurs excitedly. "I never see you around anymore, man. Where you been?" 

Then his eyes run over you and he chuckles. "Maybe I should be asking who you been with." 

It was true, Rafe had been sort of MIA since Sarah had returned with the news about his dad.

Well, except for that one incident. He hoped Topper was too drunk to remember that. In any case, he hadn't felt that guilty about their fading friendship - Topper had been MIA, too, ever since he went 'Rafe-crazy' and lit up the Chateau. He supposes that was his fault, too. 

Maybe he was avoiding him on purpose.

Topper reminded him of all the skeletons in his closet. It was hard enough living with the shame without a walking, talking reminder of his past. A lot of bravado and hair gel, is what it was. He regretted nearly everything now but sometimes he worried that if he spent enough time in the same places he used to, with the same people he used to, he'd somehow switch back. 

Rafe stiffens a little, but he gazes at you warmly. "This is Y/N. We met at, uh... she's..." 

"New." You finish for him. "Rafe's been showing me around."

At that, Rafe gives you a look. It made it sound like...

"Ah, that famous Cameron hospitality." The guy snorts. "I'm Topper."

The words 'Nice to meet you, Topper' die on your lips when he rams a hand aggressively on Rafe's shoulder and starts to laugh to himself, as if recalling memories. "Me and this guy? We go way back, Y/N. Best of friends, really."

You nod half-heartedly, shifting awkwardly in your seat. The leather of the chair underneath your bare thighs is starting to stick to the skin uncomfortably. 

"Alright, man, well it was good seeing you-," Rafe attempts to wave him off, but Topper doesn't let up.

"Look, dude." He whispers, lowering his head to Rafe's ear. He's not being as quiet as he thinks he is, and the next part of what he says makes you shudder. "I heard about your dad."

Rafe feels a wave of defeat wash over him. So, Topper wasn't too drunk to remember. 

It was one of the first nights after he'd heard about his dad. He'd spent as long as he could in the Island Club, ordering drink after drink, until he stumbled outside and spent a good chunk of the night puking his guts out. Unfortunately, that wasn't before letting his tongue fall a little too loose, and explaining to Topper how his dad hadn't really died on My Druthers because he was in Guadeloupe swimming in gold. But now, now he was really dead. And he wasn't coming back. And he'd barely said goodbye. 

"I'm really sorry, man. I know things have been really fucking weird, to say the least. But I'm sorry you're going through that. Again." Topper spills, feeling completely uninhibited. "Well, I guess it's only real this time around. But... you wouldn't have known that at the time." 

Topper winces at himself. He rubs a hand down his red face and stumbles away from the table. "Shit. Sorry. I'm just gonna-,"

"See ya, Top." Rafe cuts him off dryly. 

You look at Rafe cautiously as Topper makes his way, albeit clumsily, back to the bar. He lets out a deep breath and then slowly starts to shake his head, lifting his chin to meet your eyes with a look that seems to say - 'are you seeing this shit?'. 

"That guy used to be your best friend?" You ask with a hint of a smile, trying to diffuse the tension. You spare a glance at Topper who's slurring through his order of another drink. 

Rafe shrugs, letting out a wispy laugh. "We had our moments."

Moments he wasn't particularly eager to tell you about, but moments, nonetheless. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"  

"What, Topper? Fuck no." He laughs harder. 

"No, not Topper. The meeting." You say sincerely. "Why you feel like you can't talk about your dad."

You feel your heart race a little at the question, wondering if Rafe is going to use it to be vulnerable. His face falls for a moment, but then it recovers. For a second, he considered it. But there's something bigger that's been weighing on his mind. 

"I was kinda hoping we could do something else." He says softly and moves in closer, cupping your cheek.

"Yeah?" You whisper, meeting his intense gaze. Hot breath fanning over his face. "And what's that?"

He tenderly moves a strand of hair out of your eyes, trying so hard to be soft that his hand is shaking. His blue eyes have specks of something else at this distance. It's the best colour you've ever seen. 

"I really need to kiss you."

He nods while he says it, like he's giving himself an affirmation. Then he's closing the space between you and pressing his lips over yours with a controlled kind of pressure you're really tempted to see snap one day. The way your mouth opens for his tongue nearly immediately almost makes it happen right now. And that'd really be a shame, he thinks, because he wants to ruin you when he has time and space to play with. 

"Stay with me tonight?" He mumbles breathily as you pull apart, and you nod as his thumb cradles your cheek.

You think you can maybe make out Topper whistling, but it's hard with all the blood rushing to your ears.

Rafe kisses like affection has been missing from his life for a long time. 

His hands are almost frustratingly gentle as they caress your jaw, but his lips, which haven't detached from yours since you entered his bedroom, more than make up for it.

They're hungry and wet with spit, entirely unsatisfied until your panting underneath him and have to bury your face in his neck to take deep, deep breaths of oxygen and his fading cologne.

He bites at your mouth and neck in the meantime, then soothes over the tender spots with his tongue while you whine and claw at the silky material on his still-clothed back.  

"This. Off." You murmur throatily, parting from his lips to tug up on the hem of his shirt. You stare unabashedly at the defined v-line that peaks out from underneath, tongue darting out to wet your lips in anticipation.

Rafe laughs, but humours you, throwing the garment off over the side of the bed so that it hits the floor somewhere. 

Still hovering over you, he leans down to press several kisses to your lips, and you take the opportunity to run the flat of your hand down his warm and muscular chest, the other hand curling around the sweaty strands of his dirty blonde hair. 

Rafe actually moans out when you tug on his hair, and the pretty sound brings a rush of heat to your core.

You squeeze your thighs together and plant open-mouthed kisses along Rafe's jaw, when his phone starts to vibrate on his bedside table. 

You turn your head to glance at the bright screen and Rafe scrunches his eyebrows together, fingers pinching at your chin to turn your focus back on him.

"I don't give a fuck who it is." He laughs breathily. "I'm not picking up. I'll break the stupid thing if I have to." 

You playfully roll your eyes before Rafe's lips attach to yours again, and you hum happily against his lips as he works them raw. Then his phone starts buzzing again.

"You wanna reconsider?" You giggle. Rafe slumps his face into your chest and groans loudly, arm extending to the table to pick up the device. He lifts his head up and glances at the notification, face twisting in what looks like shock.

"It's my sister." He says, confusion evident in his tone. "My sister never calls me."

He moves to stand up and passes you an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." He mumbles in a stray kiss to the crown of your head. "Gimme a sec." 

A few seconds turns into something much longer. 

It turned out that Rafe's sister, Sarah, was calling him because of some kind of commotion that was happening at a bonfire she and her friends were at.

Apparently, the person causing the commotion was someone Rafe knew.

Based on Rafe's initial surprise and the way he's been chewing through his bottom lip the whole way to the beach, you assumed Sarah calling was a last resort for her. You got the sense she and her brother didn't talk often.

"I'm gonna handle this, alright? I need you to stay right here." Rafe says sternly, nervously running a hand through his hair.

You sit in the passenger seat of his truck, which has quickly become one of your new favourite spots, with a frown on your pretty lips that makes Rafe's chest hurt. He reaches up to cup your cheek. 

He'd tried to convince you to stay in his room while he dealt with the situation, but you were adamant about coming with. You needed to make sure he was safe. It didn't feel like there were many people that had his best interests at heart. 

"If you think I'm going to let you go out there by yourself, you really don't know me, Rafe." 

His lips twitch at that, his thumb caressing the skin under your eye.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" He murmurs softly. "Fine. C'mon."

The beach is pretty at this hour, too. The sky is dark, but not completely so - an expansive dark blue that blankets the moon. In the distance, you can see the reddish-golden flames of a bonfire that illuminate a group of people. 

"You had the cross!" An exasperated voice yells. "How was that not enough for you?!"

"Yeah, I'm afraid that's old news." Another man with long dark hair retorts humourlessly. "I'mma need my fucking money. The money your punk asses stole from me, or did you forget that shit?!"

Getting closer, you can see that this group is separated from the much larger crowd behind them. Four guys, and two girls. One of the girls has shiny blond hair that glows under the light of the bonfire flames. Sarah, you guess. 

Three of the guys stand beside the girls. The other one stands opposite the rest of them, hands smoothing over something his pocket.

A soft gasp leaves your lips when you realize it's a gun.

Rafe stops suddenly. He turns to gaze at you with an intense look in his eyes, pupils hard as one of his hands grips your shoulder. The other reaches for your face, thumb brushing over your lip tenderly. 

"Don't move." He whispers. "Promise me." 

You feel your stomach churn at the request, wanting nothing more than to tug him by the hand all the way back to his truck. But you nod, hoping it helps alleviate the tension in his forehead. 

"Barry!" Rafe calls out as he turns around and approaches them. 

The man with the gun tucked in his jeans, Barry, looks over his shoulder and huffs. Rafe roughly pushes him away from the rest of the group and they divulge into a heated conversation. Rafe's jaw ticks as he listens to Barry and receives a firm shove to the chest. But he manages to placate the other man by whispering something into his ear. Barry ends up nodding, and he casts one more angry glance at the rest of the group then begins to retreat. 

"Y'all have a good night, now." He chuckles grudgingly before leaving. 

Rafe makes his way back to the rest of them, nodding at his sister. You slowly come up behind him. 

"Thanks." Sarah seems to hesitate to say. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and there are frustrated tears in her eyes.

The relationship between Rafe and Sarah has been strained for a long time. They seemed to fundamentally disagree with each other.

It wasn't always that way. Or at least, Rafe thinks, it wasn't always that way. One day, his sister upped and left it all - the big house, the fancy clothes, the nice cars - for 'Pogue life'. It still made his nose crinkle in disgust when he thought about it. But the truth was, he hadn't thought about it in a while... their dad dying worked to break them out of that feud. There were bigger things to worry about, and despite everything that went down in the last few years, they'd lived a whole life together before that.

That still meant something to Rafe. 

It meant something to Sarah, too, he thinks, because she'd been less appalled by him lately. She checked in every once in a while. A few months back, he'd formally apologized to her, and of course, it would never be enough, but he felt a weight off his shoulder when she accepted it. When he realized she wasn't scared of him anymore. 

Maybe they could move passed everything. It would take a long time, sure. But he could wait for family. The only family he has. 

One of the guys next to Sarah, wearing a backwards baseball cap, stiffens.

"Don't thank him. He's Barry's bitch." He bites like Sarah's words are absurd, then stares hard at Rafe. "In fact, he's probably just here to score some more coke."

Rafe's grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for a second. He opens them and shakily exhales. 

"I'm clean, now." 

Your heart clenches at how raw his voice sounds. You watch with wide eyes as the same guy scoffs at him.

"Yeah, like anybody believes that." He mumbles under his breath. Before you can try and defend him, Sarah steps in. 

"Guys, I called him." She admits, fatigue evident in her voice. It makes you wonder how long the confrontation between them had gone on before you and Rafe showed up. Another guy, one wearing a bandana across his forehead, casts Sarah a sour glance and she sighs. "You know I had to, John B. Did you want Barry to leave, or not?"

He didn't have anything to say to that. 

Sarah steps away from her friends in an attempt at some privacy. She approaches Rafe, and by extension, you, while the rest of the gang diffuses around the bonfire. Whatever had gone down in the past between these people, it was clear they wanted nothing to do with Rafe moving forward, and it was perhaps only because Sarah was family that she even entertained speaking to him. You appreciated her for that. 

"It's been a while." Sarah comments. "You've been... doing okay?"

Rafe shuffles nervously in front of her, nodding without meeting her eyes. 

"Yeah, I've been good. You?" 

Sarah nods and a silence falls between them. 

"You're still hanging around Barry?" She asks, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. 

"He's not that bad."

"Yeah, I'll try to remember that when he's not threatening me and my friends for 25 thousand dollars."

Rafe shakes his head with a new-found confidence, raising his chin to meet her stormy and inquisitive eyes. "Nah, I talked to him. He won't bother you guys anymore."

Sarah nods again, and another silence falls between them. 

"You're really doing good?" She asks again, bottom lip wedged beneath her teeth.

"Yeah, I am. I'm, uh, getting help. Got this... group thing."

At the mention of a 'group', Sarah's eyes sweep over to you, drinking in your slightly turned face and averted gaze as you try to give the siblings some space for their conversation. She feels her lips twitch a little. So much had happened. A lot she didn't think she would ever forgive, maybe should never forgive. But she couldn't deny that it was more complex than that, nor could she deny that she missed her older brother. The one from before. Who she'd make eye contact across the dinner table with when Rose waxed poetic about their new marble counters. If they could find their way back there, she'd be lying if she said the idea didn't make her happy. 

"I'm really happy to hear that, Rafe. Honestly." 

Rafe smiles weakly. They say their goodbyes and manage an awkward side-hug with each other. When he turns around, you silently take his hand in yours, and you walk along the roaring beach back to his truck. 

Back at the truck, you lay your head on Rafe's shoulder as he sits in the driver's seat, still parked at the side of the road. Rafe keeps his eyes closed, taking a deep breath before he starts to speak. 

"My dad scared me." 

Instinctively, you reach your hand over the console and tangle your fingers together. You give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"I fucked up a lot, embarrassed him. And I, uh, I don't blame him for that. I was high all the time. Angry. Violent." He continues, sniffling slightly. "He wasn't scared of me, though. Never was."

"I guess I just wanted him to look at me and not be ashamed, you know?"

Rafe gulps, trying to let the sound of your soft hums and the warmth of your body keep him steady. 

"I did some really bad things to people. Things I'm not proud of." He whispers with his head hanging. "They didn't deserve it... and now, I have to live with that."

He shuts his eyes and exhales. 

"It's, uh... it's really hard living with that."

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you bite your lip as you take in Rafe's words, fingers reaching forward to brush away the spare tears that collect on his cheeks. He leans into your touch, finding comfort in it. 

"Hey." You say softly. "Look at you, talking about your dad. You're doing a really good job, Rafe."

He smiles weakly, his eyes trained on his lap. "Sorry tonight was a bust."

"It wasn't." You protest. "Plus, it's not over yet."

Rafe lifts his chin to look at you, his curiosity piqued.

You lick your lips and trace your fingers along his jaw, maneuvering yourself over the console to firmly grip the sides of his face and pull his lips to yours in a long and messy kiss. It's clumsy, with your noses bumping, and teeth scraping - but it's hot and it makes you feel tingly.

Rafe nips at your bottom lip shamelessly, kisses trailing down the column of your throat. "In the truck?" He asks, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice.

"In the truck." You breathe, holding back a moan when Rafe sucks on your skin. 

One way or another, the two of you find your way into Rafe's backseat. He's sitting with his legs wedged apart while you grind on top of him, muttering obscenities under your breath and weaving your fingers through his hair.

The sounds of your pleasure do more for him than he'd care to admit. When you unzip his slacks and stick your hand into his briefs to pull out his leaky cock, he throws his head back against the headrest and hisses at the contact. He is so fucking sensitive already.

"No, don't." Rafe protests breathlessly when you stroke his hard cock a few times, his hand slipping from your hip to wrap around your wrist and pull it away. Your eyes widen and you unfurl your hand immediately, only to smile when you realize why he wants you to stop. He tries to calm himself down, but can feel it building. 

"It's been a while." Rafe defends, and you giggle on top of him, pressing a sloppy kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

"Honestly, Rafe. That's really fucking hot." 

You pull your top over your head and toss it to the floor, then quickly unclasp your bra. Rafe groans immediately, half-lidded eyes so pretty and pitiful as one of his hands reaches up to grope you, while his mouth latches on to one of the hardening buds. You raise your hips to pull down your shorts, but it's not quick enough for Rafe. He tugs impatiently at the lace of your panties. 

Rafe sits you down on him, letting you control the speed as he enters you. Your mouth falls open as you attempt to take him fully, eyes screwed shut, gasp after gasp leaving your lips. 

"Fuck." You pant as he bottoms out, unable to move for a second as your head slumps in his chest. Rafe chuckles underneath you, large hands squeezing your hips. 

"You okay, baby?" 

"It's just big." You murmur, taking your bottom lip under your teeth. "It's really big, Rafe."

"I know," he coos softly as you begin to rock your hips on top of him, his own face twisting in pleasure as your pelvises kiss. "But you're doing so good, huh?"

You can barely respond, too taken by the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. By the sound of Rafe's deep thrusts, pistoling up into you as your hips knock into each other sloppily. Your slick dripping from where you're connected down to your thighs, squelching obscenely inside Rafe's truck, definitely staining the seats. 

"Taking my cock so well." He praises. "Splitting you in half, and you're taking it like a champ." 

You moan brokenly as Rafe hits your spot, his hand trailing down at the same time to rub circles on your aching clit with his thumb. 

"My good girl, huh? Always will be?"

You reach your climax as he presses searing kisses on your shoulder, shuddering with the kind of white hot pleasure that has your toes curling and a high-pitched whine vibrating from your throat that Rafe is sure he'll never forget. 

He comes shortly after, the way you clench around him through your orgasm enough to send him reeling. He groans, pumping his hips a few more times before he stills completely and fills the condom with his spend. He holds you tightly as you both come down, the sounds of your heavy breathing overlapping with each other.

Before his cock softens, he pulls out slowly and disposes of the latex. He presses a soft kiss to your cheekbone when you frown at the loss of contact, whimpering sweetly.

"Don't pout, princess. You need to get filled up? Right here?" A slender finger trails down to your slit, bumping your sensitive clit in the process, and it prods at your wet hole. 

He chuckles, brushing the sweaty hair from your face with his other hand. "I got that. Just gotta be patient and wait 'til I get you home. You can do that for me, right, pretty girl?"

The next morning, you strap yourself into the passenger seat of Rafe's truck as he drives to a busted Church at the outer edge of Figure 8. He takes his seat amongst a circle of foldable chairs and you take your seat next to him. His hand reaches out to grip yours not different from how it did last night, through fucking and sleeping alike.

When it's his turn to speak, you squeeze his hand encouragingly and he takes a deep breath.

"My dad, Ward Cameron, passed away about a year ago. He was a lot of things..."

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི make-believe; j.bellingham

pairing - jude x fem!reader

word count - 3k

warnings - none

summary - you and jude had broken up, decided to go your separate ways, but now you're both forced to play nice for an adidas ad.

you knew this day was coming.

the email landed in your inbox a week ago, the subject line so innocent, so unassuming: adidas shoot - schedule update.

you almost deleted it out of reflex, your heart dropping the moment you recognised the sender. but you clicked it anyway, because you knew better than to ignore reality.

"we've got an exciting shoot coming up with some of our top athletes," the message read, all corporate cheerfulness, "including you and jude bellingham! can't wait to see the magic you two create together."

magic. right.

you hadn't seen jude since it happened, since the two of you had ended things with a mutual understanding that felt more like mutual devastation. the kind of breakup where there's no yelling, no slamming doors, just a quiet acceptance that what you had was too complicated, too much for either of you to carry any longer.

but it wasn't any easier for that. in fact, it might've been harder. because you couldn't even hate him. you couldn't even scream or cry or blame him for anything. you were just... sad. sad in a way that sat heavy in your chest, that didn't go away no matter how many times you told yourself it was for the best.

and now, here you are, standing in the studio with the lights too bright and the air too cool, dressed head-to-toe in adidas gear, waiting for jude to show up.

you can feel the tension building in your shoulders, the nerves twisting in your stomach. you're trying to remind yourself that it's just another day at work, just another shoot, but it's not. not when he's involved.

you hear him before you see him, the familiar sound of his voice as he greets someone at the entrance, that same tone that used to make your heart skip a beat. you don't turn around right away, too busy pretending to adjust the fit of your jacket, but when you finally look up, there he is.

jude's standing there, just a few feet away, looking as good as ever, and it's like air is being sucked right out of your lungs. you thought you were prepared for this, thought you'd built up enough of a wall around your heart to keep it together, but the moment you see him, that wall cracks, just a little.

he looks... different. maybe it's just the distance, the time that's passed, or maybe it's the way he's holding himself, more reserved, more cautious. but his eyes still find yours, and for a split second, everything else fades away. it's just the two of you, caught in that familiar yet unspoken connection that never really went away.

"hey," he says, his voice softer than you remember, almost hesitant.

"hey," you reply, and it's too casual, too normal for what this moment really is. but you don't know what else to say, how else to greet the person who used to be your everything.

before either of you can say more, the director claps his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "all right, let's get started! y/n, jude, we're going to start with some paired shots, just the two of you. we want to capture that chemistry, that connection you both have as madrid's star players."

you almost laugh at the irony, but it sticks in your throat, coming out as a forced smile instead. you nod, falling into step with jude as the crew starts directing you both, positioning you in front of the camera.

the first pose isn't too bad. you're standing side by side, arms crossed, the standard tough athlete look. it's easy enough to slip into character, to pretend like everything's fine. but then the director starts asking for more.

"can you two get a little closer? jude, put your arm around y/n's shoulders, like you're celebrating a win together."

it's such a simple request, something you've done a hundred times before, but now it feels like the hardest thing in the world. still, you nod, forcing your body to move as jude steps closer, his arm brushing against yours before he rests it on your shoulders.

the contact sends a shiver through you, a reminder of all the times you used to lean into him, used to find comfort in his touch. but now, it feels different. awkward, forced, like a ghost of something that used to be real.

you keep your smile plastered on, staring straight ahead at the camera, but you can feel jude's tension too, the way his grip on your shoulder isn't as relaxed as it used to be, how he's holding back. and it makes everything worse because it's a reminder that he's just as affected by this as you are.

"perfect, perfect!" the director calls out, oblivious to the silent struggle happening between you. "now, y/n, turn towards jude, like you're about to high-five him, but stop just before your hands meet. we want to capture that anticipation, that energy."

you don't even know what that means, but you do as you're told, turning to face jude, your hand hovering in the air between you. he mirrors your movement, and now you're standing so close that you can see every detail of his face, the lines of stress around his eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the silence stretches between you, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to just this, just the space between your hands, the weight of everything unsaid. your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming a little faster, and you're terrified that he can hear it, that he knows how much this is affecting you.

"great, hold that! now, jude, how about you pull y/n in for a side hug, like you're celebrating together again?"

you blink, your smile faltering for just a second before you catch yourself. this is too much, too close, too soon. but you don't have much of a choice, so you force yourself to move, stepping into jude's space as he wraps an arm around you.

it's stiff, weird, nothing like the way it used to be. and you can tell he feels it too, the way his body is tense, how his touch is light, as if he's afraid to hold on too tight, afraid of what might happen if he does.

you try to relax, try to let yourself sink into the moment, but it's impossible. because all you can think about is how wrong this feels, how much it hurts to be this close to him and yet so far away.

"beautiful! now, y/n, lean your head on jude's shoulder, like you're sharing a moment after a big win."

the director's voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you have to fight the urge to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. but you don't. instead, you follow his instructions, tilting your head to rest on jude's shoulder, your heart in your throat.

the scent of him hits you, familiar and comforting, and it takes everything in you not to let your eyes close, not to let yourself get lost in the memories that flood your mind. you can feel jude's breath hitch, just for a second, and you wonder if he's feeling the same thing, if the weight of this moment is crushing him too.

"and... got it! that's a wrap on this setup!"

the words are a relief, but also a disappointment. because even though this is torture, part of you doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to step away from him and go back to pretending like everything's fine, like you're over it.

but you have to. so you pull away, stepping back as jude's arm drops from your shoulders, the distance between you growing again. you glance up at him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and the look there makes your chest ache.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice low, just for you.

you nod, but it's a lie, and you both know it. "yeah. you?"

"yeah." another lie.

the director is already moving on, calling for the next setup, oblivious to the tension that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. you and jude follow along, moving like you're on autopilot, but it's clear that the magic they were hoping for isn't there. not really.

the next few poses are just as bad, each one requiring you to get close, to touch, to pretend like everything's fine when it's not. and with each one, the facade gets harder to maintain, the cracks in your armor growing wider.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the director calls for a break, and you all but collapse onto a nearby bench, your head in your hands. you can feel jude's presence next to you, but you can't bring yourself to look at him, not now, not when you're so close to breaking.

"y/n," he says softly, and you can hear the concern in his voice, the guilt.

"don't," you whisper, shaking your head. "not here."

he doesn't push, but you can feel his frustration, his helplessness. and it's almost worse than if he had tried to talk to you, because it means he's feeling it too, the weight of this, the impossibility of pretending like nothing's changed.

the break doesn't last long enough.

before you've even caught your breath, the director is calling you back, his voice echoing through the studio like a bad dream. you don't want to get up, don't want to face jude again, but you don't have a choice. this is your job, your life, and sometimes that means swallowing the pain and pushing through it.

when you stand, jude's already on his feet, watching you with that same look he had earlier—like he wants to say something, like he's waiting for the right moment. but there's no right moment, and there won’t be. so you just walk past him, heading back to the set, feeling his eyes on your back the entire way.

"alright, now we're thinking something dynamic," the director explains, too excited for his own good. "like jude lifting y/n off the ground, both of you laughing, like you've just won a big tournament or something."

you almost laugh at the absurdity of it. the idea of jude lifting you, holding you close, laughing like nothing's wrong—it feels like a cruel joke. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

you take your position, standing in front of jude. the director is giving more instructions, telling jude how to wrap his arms around your waist, how to make it look effortless, but you can't focus on any of it. all you can think about is how this is going to hurt in ways you can't even begin to prepare for.

when jude's hands settle on your waist, it's like a jolt of electricity shoots through you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. his touch is gentle, almost too gentle, but it's the tenderness that cuts the deepest.

"on three," the director says, his voice distant, like it's coming from underwater. "one, two, three!"

jude lifts you, just like he's supposed to, and you feel the ground disappear beneath your feet. for a split second, it's almost like it used to be—before everything fell apart. the way he used to hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were worth protecting.

you're supposed to laugh, supposed to act like this is fun, but the sound that comes out of your mouth is hollow, forced. you don't know how jude manages to smile, how he keeps up the act, because all you want to do is scream, to tell everyone to stop, that this is too much, too painful.

but you don't. you just hang there, suspended in jude's arms, pretending like this is just another day, like you're not dying inside.

"perfect, perfect! that's exactly what we needed!" the director's voice is too loud, too cheerful, and it grates against your nerves. you want to tell him that this isn't perfect, that nothing about this is perfect, but the words stick in your throat.

when jude finally sets you down, you're unsteady on your feet, your legs shaky. you take a step back, putting distance between you, but it's not enough. the damage is done. the wound has been ripped open.

you glance at jude, and the look in his eyes tells you everything. he's hurting too, more than he's letting on. but he's also resigned, like he knows there's nothing either of you can do to fix this, like he's accepted that this is just the way it has to be.

"we'll take five," the director announces, already moving on to the next setup, oblivious to the emotional minefield he's just dragged you both through.

you nod, barely acknowledging him, and walk off the set, needing to be alone, needing to breathe. jude doesn't follow you this time, and you're grateful for it. you don't know what you'd say if he did. you don't know how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you, the pain of being so close to him and yet so far away.

you find a quiet corner of the studio, out of sight of the crew, and lean against the wall, your head tilted back as you try to keep it together. but the tears are already welling up, and you hate yourself for it, for being this vulnerable, this broken.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you and jude were supposed to be the ones who made it, who figured it out. but life had other plans, and now you're stuck here, pretending like everything's fine when it's anything but.

you wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it's no use. the emotions are too raw, too fresh. you can still feel jude's touch on your skin, still hear his voice in your head, and it's all too much.

you're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear him approach. it's only when he speaks that you realise he's standing right in front of you.

"y/n..."

you look up, and there he is, his expression a mix of concern and something else. you want to tell him to leave, to go back to the set and let you deal with this on your own, but the words won't come.

"i'm sorry," he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. "i didn't think it'd be this hard."

"me neither," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

he takes a step closer, hesitating like he's not sure if he should, like he's afraid of crossing a line that's already been blurred too many times today. "i... i still care about you. that hasn't changed."

his words hit you like a heavy blow, and you have to look away, your eyes focusing on the floor because you can't bear to look at him right now.

"jude, don't," you manage to say, your voice shaky. "please, just... don't."

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched in every line of his body. "i don't know what to do, y/n. i don't know how to make this better."

you wish you had an answer for him, but you don't. because there isn't one. some things just can't be fixed, no matter how much you want them to be.

"maybe it's not supposed to be better," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "maybe this is just... how it has to be."

the words hang in the air, final and unchangeable, and you know they're true, even if you don't want them to be. whatever you and jude had, it's gone now, and no amount of pretending is going to bring it back.

he nods, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you can see the defeat in his posture, the way he's finally accepted that this is the end.

"we should get back," you say, needing to put distance between you, needing to end this conversation before it destroys you completely.

he doesn't argue, just follows your lead as you both make your way back to the set, the silence between you deafening.

the rest of the shoot goes by in a blur. you're going through the motions, doing what's asked of you without really thinking, without really feeling. it's easier that way, easier to disconnect, to shut down.

and jude... jude is the same. distant, reserved, like he's put up his own walls to protect himself from the hurt. you don't blame him. you've done the same.

when it's finally over, when the director calls it a wrap and the crew starts packing up, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. it's done. you survived. but that relief is tinged with sadness, with the knowledge that nothing's really changed. the pain is still there, still as fresh as it was when you first saw him this morning.

you grab your things, eager to get out of there. but as you're about to leave, he catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"y/n," he says, and there's something in his voice, something that makes you pause.

you turn to look at him, and for a moment, you see the boy you fell in love with, the one who made you believe in forever.

"take care of yourself," he says, his voice soft, almost tender.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. because there's no closure here, no neat ending, no goodbye that makes everything okay. there's just this—this messy, painful, complicated thing that you and jude have become.

"you too," you finally manage to say.

he gives you a small, sad smile, and then he lets you go.

and just like that, it's over. you walk away, your heart heavy, your mind racing with everything you wanted to say but couldn't.

because this isn't a movie, and there's no script to follow.

it's just... done.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Like a god 』

☼ synopsis: worshipping tengen felt like a privilege to you, your body resting on the floor between strong thighs while your mouth showed him a piece of heaven.

☼ character: Tengen Uzui

☼ wc: 1.8k

☼ cw: gn!reader, oral (reader giving), pet names, body worship on Tengen, sloppy head, orgasm denial, cum eating

☼ notes: it started out as headcanons but I love sucking dick too much it seems.... || requested by @teddybeartoji 🫶 || Taglist

Feeling your lips melt against his was one of Tengens favorite feelings. The way your body rested against his, the weight resting on his lap while your upper body leaned into his. He swore up and down that this is the way he wanted to leave this world, wrapped in your embrace and every sense flooded with nothing but you. Your hands in his hair, your hands against his chest, arms looped around his body - as long as you threw yourself at him, he didn't care for anything else.

His lips against yours felt like the silence around the two of you exploded in colors that show in front of your closed eyes, every thought got erased from your mind and got replaced by nothing but him. His lips melting with yours almost drowned out the feeling of his strong hands running up your spine beneath your shirt, eliciting goosebumps in their wake until they tangled in your hair. Hands grabbing fists full of your hair, harsh but gentle at the same time to pull you closer, your kiss like oxygen to him until the taste of his becomes yours too.

Pulling back, Tengen barely registered the words you told him, eyes half lidded and glossed over from the way your love affects him.

"Hm?" He asked loopy, his mind still hazy from the kiss the two of you just shared, but you didn't feel like repeating yourself, far too worked up from feeling him harden beneath you.

Without another word, you ground your hips against his, a desperate whimper escaping your throat when you brushed against his bulge, hard and begging to be touched.

"My god... I want to give you what you deserve," you muse, loving to see his yes sparkle whenever you call him your god. But it was true, Tengen's love gave you salvation like no other, your mind at peace whenever you're with him and you never failed to make him feel like anything less than a god with the way you worship him.

Soft lips connect with the sensitive skin of your neck, open-mouthed kisses placed on your pulse point until he bit ever so gently, wanting to get a reaction out of you. The bite made you moan quietly and your hips jerked into his, your core desperate for any kind of friction at this point and you could feel him smirk against your throat.

Big hands held your hips in a firm grip as he guided your movement, dragging you along his clothed erection and you could feel how breathing got harder and harder until he was groaning against your skin, growing equally needy for release. But this wasn't what you wanted when you decided to sit on his lap just minutes ago - you were craving more, your mouth growing lonely with the absence of his cock on your tongue.

Detaching your lover from your neck, you carefully slid yourself from his lap to kneel on the floor between a pair of strong thighs that were spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination as your hands raked over his inner thighs and to the top of his pants. It was like unwrapping a gift every time, excitement written over your face as you shed the layers of clothes from what you desired.

Tengens cock stood proudly, resting against his defined abs the moment his hips sat back down onto the surface beneath. He was crafted by the gods themselves, every muscle of his body beautifully defined, flesh carved immaculate like marble beneath your eager fingers, tracing every ridge with nails and watching him shudder from the feeling.

"Touch me, my sweet," he hummed, hips raising slightly to punctuate where he needs your touch, but you wanted to take your sweet time with him, worshiping him in a way a god deserves.

Your lips started to press kisses from his knees, over his thighs and hip bones, all the way to his navel, just to trail down but never quite reaching the spot where he needed you most. It gave you a feeling of power, watching Tengen squirm and lose control until he begged for your love, for the pleasure only you know how to provide.

"Please... been thinking about your sweet lips all day," his voice started to sound strained and as much as he needed you, he would never make you please him. Strong thighs started to tremble when you bit his left thigh, far too close to his balls, but you had him right where you wanted.

The god of flashiness was putty in your palms, yours to mold, yours to play with and you would enjoy every second of the pleasure you would so generously give to him. Slowly, your tongue darted out to give a playful lick to his balls before kissing them ever so gently, feeling them twitch against your lips with every kiss. His hand grabbed a fist full of your hair once again, needing to hold onto you - onto anything really - to keep him grounded since you were driving him insane with just your kisses. Meanwhile, your hands started kneading and massaging Tengen’s strong thighs and when your eyes drifted upwards to see his reaction, you were met with a sight that's far beyond ethereal.

Tengen looked down at you as if you put every star in the night sky to shame, his brows knitted together and lips parted ever so slightly to let those little pants out that sounded an awful lot like a repetition of "please." It made you take pity on the man, your tongue slowly trailing up from his heavy balls all the way to the tip of his pretty cock, where you swirled your tongue to lap up the beads of precum that have gathered there. You didn't think his face could get any prettier, but when you wrapped your lips around just the tip, you moaned at the sight in front of you. To reward him, you sunk down all the way, welcoming his cock inside your throat while you buried your nose in the neatly trimmed bush at the base.

Tengen’s hands moved from your hair to hold the armrests of the chair he was seated on, knuckles almost white from how hard he held onto them. You never failed to take his breath away when you kneeled down for him, worshiping his cock as if this would be the last time you'd get to do this. You looked so in love with him, eyes fluttering close when you moan and whimper around his dick, hands holding onto his thighs as if he would disappear if you'd let go. The weight of him felt heavy on your tongue and you swore you could feel him in the pits of your stomach with how deep he was, but your thighs trembled with need upon tasting the salty taste of precum melt on your tongue. It was your personal heaven.

As you continue to please and serve your lover, giving him your all, you could feel him twitch on your tongue and inside your throat. Panic rushed over you and you quickly pulled away to squeeze the base of his cock with your hand, ruining his orgasm by stopping it before it had even started.

“Not yet… need more,” you whisper and kiss along his inner thighs with your slightly swollen lips. Despite the hiss that escaped his throat, he couldn't even say anything in return. Watching you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock almost made him release despite the tight grip you had on him. Your spit was slowly running down his shaft and dripping off his heavy balls, collecting in a small puddle beneath, but neither of you seemed to mind, the sloppy head causing both of your heads to spin, both wanting more and so you leaned in. Your lips kissed along his shaft a second time, stopping just below his tip to suckle on the glands, your tongue dancing over his frenulum before pulling away entirely again to rest your head against his right thigh.

“Fuck.. why'd you stop?” He groaned, which only made you giggle. He was so desperate like this, allowing himself to be vulnerable, to become putty in your palm, but once more you took pity on him and stroked his length - an action mistaken for pity by your lover, but he should have known better.

Your touch disappeared as fast as it appeared, leaving his balls to contract, his dick starting to ache from how it twitched upon getting a second orgasm denied.

“Please… please, I need- my sweet. Please.” His begging sounded mindless at this point and neither of you were sure what he was begging for at this moment. Did he want more? Did he want you to stop? His desperate pleas were music to your ears, watching his hips buck up and fucking the air was the most divine view anyone could have set their eyes on and you leaned back in. This time you took pity on the man before you, craving to taste him on your tongue as much as he craved you. Tengen’s breath hitched when your lips wrapped around him once more and your name fell like a sinful prayer from his lips, bouncing off the wall and melting with the lewd sounds of your mouth bobbing up and down his impressive length.

The moment his high crashed over the man, his hips shot up, a loud moan leaving him with pure pleasure. Your hand reached to fondle his balls, the feeling of them emptying felt so good against your palm as you collected his release on your tongue just for the last spurt to paint your pretty lips in pretty ivory. This was his favorite part, seeing you enjoy what he gave to you. With a sweet smile, you lolled out your tongue to show him his hot release resting on your tongue before swallowing it all and licking your lips clean until every last drop was gone.

Unsure what it was about this act, Tengen moaned at the sight, knowing you worship him and take everything he gives to you, eagerly swallowing every drop of his release - it made him fall deeper in love with you every time. And without any hesitation, your lover pulled you back onto his lap, a strong hand resting on the back of your neck when his lips crashed into yours, once again melting against one another and he had to correct his previous thoughts.

Feeling you melt against his lips was Tengen's second favorite feeling - Tasting himself on your tongue must be the best feeling a man could experience.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[fandoms-x-reader]

Thief!

Requested By: @yeosanityyyy

Summary: Mammon's greed gets the better of him and he steals a necklace while the two of you are on a date. It ends up backfiring on him when you find out the necklace is cursed. Mammon x GN!Reader Word Count: 1,931

Mammon was always getting in trouble - especially when he was with you.

It didn’t matter how much he promised you he would be on his best behavior. Or how many times he told you he wouldn’t do anything wrong.

In the end - most of the time because of his sin - he ended up doing something that would force the two of you to go on the run from whoever Mammon decided to make angry.

Which is exactly what was happening right now.

You and Mammon had a special connection from the moment you came to the Devildom. 

Maybe it was because he was the one who was chosen to protect you - or maybe it was something else.

Whatever he was doing, he wanted you with him. It could be an exciting scheme to earn Grimm or something as simple as going to his favorite restaurant. He always wanted you there.

Either way, whatever it was brought you and Mammon closer together.

You were each other’s best friend and more.

And it went both ways. Whenever there was something you thought would be entertaining or special, you always made sure to invite him first. Things were just more fun when the two of you were together.

Which is why when you saw an artifact exhibit that was opening in the human world, you decided to ask along your favorite demon.

It wasn’t a very large exhibit but it was going to have a bunch of ancient artifacts on display and you were curious to see if there was something from the Devildom that had made its way up there.

It would be a great way to further connect your world to Mammon’s; but, you knew you wouldn’t be able to determine if anything was from the Devildom for sure on your own.

Luckily for you, Mammon was pretty excited about going. And while you were sure it was because he was up to something, he promised you that he wouldn’t cause any trouble.

And in his defense, he really meant it. He figured it would be a small venue and that there would be a minimal amount of security. So sneaking something to sell out of there should be easy peasy, right?

It wasn’t until an alarm started going off that you realized Mammon was no longer standing next to you.

And while others panicked about the situation, you were mentally face-palming as you saw the white-haired demon running towards you.

“Mammon - you didn’t,” you said with a small frown as he finally reached you.

“No time to talk!” Mammon replied, grabbing your hand in his and pulling you along behind him. 

You ran along with him, knowing that they now considered you his accomplice and would arrest you just as quickly as they would arrest him.

As the security guards began getting closer, the two of you ran even faster. 

Your heart was pumping harder than it ever had and your legs were aching with pain. But the adrenaline coursing through your veins was enough to distract you.

That was the thing about Mammon - he always made you feel alive.

The two of you managed to run far enough ahead that when you turned the corner you could hide without the officers finding you.

Mammon pulled you down a small alleyway, and then another, before pulling you into a small opening.

Your bodies were pressed together and you did your best to catch your breath as quietly as you could as you began hearing footsteps approach.

The contact made you look into his eyes and he tried to give you a look of reassurance. He had done this trick a hundred times and it always worked.

Adrenaline turned into fear as the footsteps got closer and closer.

Feeling how nervous you were, Mammon interlaced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand gently as the footsteps were now right on you and you closed your eyes in anticipation, waiting to be caught.

But, then, the footsteps started retreating, getting further and further away.

They ran right past you.

A small smirk formed on Mammon’s lips as he watched the officers disappear from sight and when he turned back to face you, he was wearing a large smile. 

His eyes were glowing with excitement and you could see the joy of escaping written all over his features.

And while his attractiveness made you want to swoon on spot, you weren’t going to let him get away with ending your date at the exhibit early.

You stepped out from the small space, putting a bit of distance between you and Mammon before crossing your arms over your chest and giving Mammon a pointed look.

Mammon’s smile immediately fell as he gave you a sheepish look, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I just thought I could sell it for a decent amount and be able to get ya' a nice present with it!” Mammon told you, his eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion.

You knew that Mammon typically got you something with the money he received from selling stolen items. But, he wasn’t usually so forthcoming with his intentions.

You tried to keep your stern expression, but hearing him tell you he only wanted to get you a gift made you falter.

Your entire speech that you had prepared, intending to scold him, left your mind and you struggled to find your next words.

“Will you at least show me what you took?” you asked him after another moment. 

Mammon let out a small sigh, before taking a beautiful necklace out of his pocket and holding it out towards you so that you could see it.

“I figured even if it didn’t sell for much, it would still be a good gift. It would look beautiful on ya’,” he admitted, his blush continuing to deepen.

“And then my brothers would know you’re mine,” Mammon continued to say and his eyes widened as the words left his lips. He didn’t mean to say that!

A small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you looked at the necklace. It was one you recognized. Satan had shown it to you once in one of his books.

It was made by the same person who made the truth bangle that he and Mammon had tried to curse Lucifer with. And it did the same job - whoever had it, was forced to tell the truth.

This was how you were going to avenge your ruined date.

“What did you mean by that?” you asked him, slightly raising an eyebrow as you took a step closer.

“Nothin’!” Mammon replied, doing his best to keep himself from continuing to talk, but it was only a matter of time before he gave in and said, “It would just be nice if everyone else wasn’t hangin’ around you all of the time.”

“Are you jealous?” you asked him, tilting your head slightly and Mammon felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yes,” he replied and he quickly tore his eyes away from you. “Can you stop lookin’ at me like that? I can’t focus when you’re looking so adorable,” he added, barely above a whisper.

“Mammon, there’s no need to be jealous,” you replied with a small smile. 

“When I’m the only one who should be like that with you. Because-,” he stopped once again, and you could see him really struggling to try and bite back the words.

“Ya' don’t get it. It’s hard to see everyone bein’ all clingy with you when-,” Mammon stopped himself from continuing but you encouraged him

"When?" you asked with a small smile.

“Because?” you asked softly, the game long forgotten and replaced with the need for Mammon to express his feelings for you.

Part of you felt bad seeing him so upset about the situation, but now you were hooked.

His words had drawn you in and now you were on a cliff-hanger, praying that he would say the words you had been longing for him to say.

“Because…ya’ know…I love you,” he finished and his cheeks had never burned brighter. “Dammit…why am I saying all of this?” he asked, more to himself than anything else.

“It’s the necklace. It makes you tell the truth,” you replied. Mammon looked at you in shock before looking down at the jewelry he still had in his hand.

He silently cursed himself and his sin while hoping that a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him.

He was so embarrassed. He knew there was no way you would feel the same way about him when you had so many others pursuing you. 

You could have the future King of the Devildom if you wanted. How was he supposed to compete with that?

But, what Mammon didn’t realize was that you didn’t want the future King of the Devildom.

He felt panic beginning to build in his chest at the thought of ruining things with you by confessing.

He loved his relationship with you and he was terrified that he just changed it.

You wanted the demon who always brought a smile to your face. You wanted the demon that made you feel excited about the small things. The one who would love you unconditionally and the one would always make sure you felt loved.

You wanted the one who was your best friend. 

You wanted Mammon.

You could see the panic in his eyes so you carefully stepped forward and took his hand in yours. “I love you too, Mammon.”

He refused to look up from the ground as he replied, “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

You knew that Mammon was deeply overthinking things and that he wasn’t going to take you for your word right now.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind. 

You took the necklace from Mammon, finally capturing his attention and you held it up so that he could see it.

“Mammon, I’m in love with you,” you stated once again, your own cheeks dusting pink as you finally confessed the feelings you had been holding inside for so long.

Mammon searched your eyes for any sign of deception or joking. But he couldn’t find any. You were telling the truth. You really did love him.

Mammon dared himself to move forward, wrapping one arm around your waist and cupping your cheek with his other hand as he passionately brought his lips to yours.

It was something he had been craving to do since the first time you smiled at him. It was a moment he had been dreaming of.

And the reality was even more perfect than his fantasy. 

He pulled away after another moment and looked into your eyes again. 

You smiled softly as the feeling of his lips made yours tingle and you already missed them.

It was in that intimate moment that Mammon knew there was no one else for him.

He could kiss you a million times and it would always feel like the first time. He could say I love you a million times and it would never lose meaning.

You were the one he would love forever - and he would make sure to find a way to expand your forever beyond a normal human’s.

Because after falling so hard for you, he was certain that he would never be able to live without you.

In the end, the two of you ended up returning the necklace. Mammon wanted to get you a gift the clean way.

Besides, he didn’t need the necklace. All he needed was you.

And thanks to his sin - he finally had you.