#:pensive::fist:

[theperksofbeingstupid]

want to game with friends ,unfortunately i have this disease called scared all the time ,incurable

[spotifyreleasegaydar]

people always ask "who's the man?" but never "how's the man?" 😔✊️

[funky-sea-cryptid]

Life itself!! <3

i wrote. 33 chapters of trans macduff fic. and no one knows it exists. i've improved since then but uhhh life itself still SLAPPED so??? this is my trans macduff propo. this is my t4t lavender marriage macduff family propo. this is my gruoch and macduff friendship propo. this is, to an extent, my malduffbert propo.

[violexides]

OHHH sully that's such a cool line... tysm for the tag!

hmmmm. i'll tag @areus-in-a-little-cave @aliveburs2 @cubitozinc and whoever alse wants to join!

Oh so ur a writer?? Prove it. Drop the last sentence of ur wip in the tags

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: fluff, silliness, highly suggestive, reader implied to be femme, overuse of terms of endearment (sweetie, sweetheart), mdni to be safe — notes: @leighsartworks216 this is your doing. *affectionately shakes fist*

“Sylus,” you begin one day on a whim, mindlessly scrolling through your socials.

“Yes, sweetie?” he purrs, enthralled by the deckled pages of a book, languidly massaging your foot in his lap.

“Are you ticklish?”

He chuckles something murky behind you. “Not that I am aware of.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You don’t have to look back to sense the deadpanned look on his face. “I’ve lived in this skin for a long time, sweetheart. I think I would know if I were ticklish.”

You briskly sit up, maneuvering until you’re facing him. You lean closer with curious eyes, perched on the couch of his study like a feline.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sylus scoffs. Quietly sets his book down on the coffee table, a challenge tugging one corner of his mouth upwards. He holds his hands up, uncrossing his legs, something of mischief shining in his eyes as he sits back in an easy slouch.

“You’re welcome to see for yourself, sweetie.”

You don’t like how that sounds. How he drawled out the term of endearment. Still, you’re incredibly persistent. You’ve been exclusive for some months now, yet he’s still an enigma.

Your lips twisting with determination, you begin your examination. First, you start with the obvious places that would typically make people squeal—near his collarbones, in his armpits, down his sides, drag your nails inwards across his stomach. You peer up at his face. If he feels anything, he doesn’t reveal it, still wearing that insufferably smug look as he observes you.

You don’t find any sensitive zones on his torso. Just defined planes of muscle that make your pulse quicken and cause you to swallow past the dry film of your throat.

You proceed with your impromptu frisking, raking your nails down the sides of his devastating quads. Glance up. Nothing. Hmm.

You swivel your hands inwards, tracing over the inward trajectory of his thighs. He parts them for you, and it becomes evident he’s enjoying this. Enjoying tormenting you with the catastrophic shape of his body. Like he knows you know he feels good.

You cast him a pensive look. He feigns innocence with a shrug, signaling you to continue your investigation with the flit of his eyes.

So you do, creeping your fingers down the inner parts of his knees. Outwards. Pluck yourself from the sticky leather of the settee and sit between his legs on the floor, tracing over his calves and ankle bones.

You glance up. He still radiates complacency, yet his eyes hold something heavier than their usual, teasing weight. It’s something unmistakable, but you ignore it, instead testing the socked soles of his feet for any signs of vulnerability. Any minute twitches, any jolts or hitched breaths. No dice.

You relent with a sigh, crawling onto his lap. His heavy hands clasp around where thigh meets hip, keeping you steady, your thighs framing his.

“Guess you’re not ticklish,” you say with a solemn smile, twining your arms about his neck.

Why you thought the big, bad wolf of Onychinus would have any sensitive zones in the first place is beyond you. Maybe it was just an excuse to feel him up.

“I told you,” he husks affectionately. Voice crackles in that way that makes your belly swoop, and he closes a tender hand around your nape to draw you in for a kiss.

Your mouths part with a sticky click. And you’re dizzy and laughing something light as your foreheads press together, pheromones and fondness filling what little space lies between your bodies.

“Kudos for trying, sweetheart.”

You don’t enjoy being proven wrong, but you suppose it’s fine if you lose to him. Leaning back, you study his pretty features, the delicate sweep of his lashes as his eyes slip shut.

You thread your fingers through his hair, grazing one particularly vulnerable spot at the top of his cranium, and you don’t miss how he tenses beneath you. How he winces, releasing a sound so far-off and delicate, you’re not sure if you heard it in the first place.

Curious, you try for the spot again, evoking the same reaction, and Sylus’ hold around your waist tightens the slightest bit.

With a troublesome smile, you test the opposite side, garnering a similar response and—

Oh.

Oh, this.

Like the devilish little fiend you are, you scratch these newly revealed spots simultaneously, reveling in his response. How his carefully constructed composure begins to crumble beneath you.

He twitches and fidgets under your care, lips parting, a low, guttural sound dredged from his throat. He unconsciously bunts his head against your hands, leaning into your touch. You watch as a pretty, peachy flush creeps into his cheeks, staining the tips of his ears, and his brows scrunch in something of anguish.

Had you not known any better, you’d think you were scratching behind the ears of a feline. Had Sylus been a cat in a past life? You giggle mischievously at the notion before something very hot and prominent prods at the inner cut of your thigh.

Before you can investigate, Sylus ensnares your wrists in his hand, and he’s panting, glaring at you with those pretty, scarlet eyes to match the beautiful flush taking possession of his face.

His voice is hoarse. Smoky. Dangerous. You feel the buzz of it pooling warm in the lower reaches of your belly, leaking down between your thighs.

“You keep doing that, and I might have to retaliate, sweetheart.”

You swallow, your throat thickening, your mouth slightly open. Your pulse thrums a war cadence in your ears, and your breaths are short as desire spumes through you.

“You won’t do it,” you challenge, your tone husky. Shaky.

“Is that a challenge?” Sylus returns, his grip on your wrists slackening until he releases them.

He tugs you impossibly closer on his lap via the globes of your ass, and his weighted girth slides deliciously over the center of your thighs, eliciting a bitten-off sound from your mouth. You rest your hands on the defined planes of his chest to maintain a modicum of space, though it’s fruitless.

He draws your head down until your breaths intermingle, long, spindly fingers sneaking beneath your chin to moor you to the spot. He grazes your mouth with his, and a pleasant thrill ripples through you, your fingers pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“Why don’t I show you what happens to naughty girls who test my patience?”

[wtfsteveharrington]

don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s. 

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker. 

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him. 

He’s protective, that’s all. 

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers. 

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now. 

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy? 

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side. 

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself. 

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend. 

feel my heat takin' you higher. 

burn with me, heaven's on fire. 

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio. 

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else. 

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?” 

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl. 

You’re coughing. 

Like, way more than normal. 

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson. 

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.” 

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.” 

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug. 

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first. 

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.” 

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained. 

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way. 

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.” 

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it. 

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next. 

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow. 

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch. 

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?” 

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead. 

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though. 

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel. 

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead. 

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least. 

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.” 

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.” 

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place. 

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up. 

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate. 

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie. 

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.” 

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin. 

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.” 

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself. 

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind. 

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced. 

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all. 

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips. 

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself. 

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already. 

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss. 

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it. 

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless. 

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again. 

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.” 

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been. 

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch. 

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs. 

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before - 

“Holy fuck, Eddie.” 

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve. 

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch. 

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow. 

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste. 

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

[snow-snowball]

𓆩❤︎𓆪 Nice ass, bro! 𓆩❤︎𓆪

You slapped his ass and complimented him.

characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.

a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes.

Sylus:

• Honestly, he expected something like this from you.

• So when you smacked him on his nice backside, Sylus merely raised an eyebrow.

• “Are you serious? Are you that bored, kitten?”

• “You have such a lovely butt, darling! I couldn’t just walk past it!”

• He simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer.

• “And what if I do this?” His hand began to slide from your waist down to your rear. “Hmm, I won’t stop, you know that, right?” Sylus lowered his head onto your shoulder. You felt a slight sting from his bite, followed by his slippery tongue licking the spot he had just bitten.

• “Sylus—I—I was just joking!”

• “Joking, you say?” The man straightened up and put on a pensive look, then suddenly his ruby eyes sparkled with mischief as he lifted you by your thighs. “Well, it seems the joke has spiraled out of control.” In a swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder and playfully smacked your ass, striding toward your bedroom. “Kieran, Luke, I’ll be busy for a couple of hours, so put your work on hold.” Sylus waved his free hand dismissively at his subordinates, who chuckled at the scene, before disappearing with you.

Xavier:

• Xavier lay on the couch with his eyes closed.

• You knew perfectly well that he wasn’t actually asleep; he was just pretending. That’s why you tiptoed closer to him.

• The Hunter had heard you long ago but continued to feign sleep. He was curious about what you were planning to do.

• Noticing his eyelashes fluttering slightly, you raised your fist to your mouth, stifling an impending laugh. Once you reached him, you were greeted with a stunning view of his backside, snugly wrapped in light blue jeans. You let out a whistle, momentarily forgetting your purpose. Gathering your composure, you playfully smacked his firm rear, the sound of your playful slap echoing through the room.

• Xavier propped himself up and looked at you with a puzzled expression. “Why did you do that?”

• “Great butt, darling!” you exclaimed, raising your finger triumphantly with a bright smile.

• The hunter sat there for a while, resting his chin on his thumb, deep in thought. “Alright then, I guess I’ll...” He suddenly pulled you close, settling you on his lap as his hands went straight to your hips, squeezing them and making you gasp. “Your ass is way better than mine. Mind if I chill like this for a bit?” He leaned his head to the side and gave you an innocent puppy-dog look—classic forbidden move.

Zayne:

• The man sat in the armchair, engrossed in a medical book. He was too absorbed to notice when you came home.

• You felt a twinge of worry that your husband hadn’t greeted you. But upon finding him reading in the living room, you crossed your arms and gave him a slightly displeased look. He still didn’t pay you any mind. With a sigh, you approached him, placing your hand on the book to close it and then letting it fall to your side.

• Slightly startled, Zane glanced at you and immediately stood up to embrace you. “I’m so sorry, darling; I lost track of time.”

• “It’s fine; I guess the book is more important than your wife!”

• “Don’t say that…” He looked at you seriously, taking your warm hands in his cool ones. “You will always come first to me.” The doctor held you gently, as if afraid to chase you away. He caressed your back with his large hands, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

• You couldn’t stay mad at him for long and wrapped your arms around him in return. You stood that way for a few minutes until your hands slid down, squeezing your husband’s toned behind and playfully tapping his firm thighs. “Wow! Dr. Zane, you’ve a nice ass!”

• The man let out a weary sigh; this wasn’t the first time you had done this. “As you wish, my dear.”

Rafayel:

• He was painting in his studio as usual, inspiration pouring out of him like a raging river. The masks were bold, and the colors were alive and vibrant.

• All would be well, except Rafayel kept getting paint smeared all over his backside.

• You quietly slipped into his room and froze at the doorway. His gorgeous ass was wrapped in tight pants, with paint smudges dotting the surface, and oh my, it bounced so enticingly with his movements.

• You spotted a small tube of paint and, seizing the opportunity, squeezed some onto your palm. Sneaking up behind him, you delivered a playful smack to his ass, causing him to jump in surprise. Raphael inadvertently jolted his hand, ruining what could have been a masterpiece.

• “What the hell?! You! You! Are you out of your mind?!”

• “I gotta say, this painting is just killer.” You pointed at his backside playfully. “The imprint of my hand fits perfectly into it!”

• The artist turned his head and noticed the marks your hands had left on his pants. Frowning, he turned away from you, arms crossed over his chest.

• “Did I hurt your feelings?” You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind. Your paint-splattered hands slipped beneath his shirt. “What a bummer, though! I still have some touches left to add—Ouch!”

• He suddenly spun around, pushing you back against his desk and looming over you. “Looks like you’ve taken it too far, Miss Artist.” He dipped his fingers into bright red paint, smirking as he locked eyes with you. “Now it’s my turn to create.”

© 2024 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @snow-snowball

[teamred]

obvious

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | fluff | angst | humor | 2.3k

SUMMARY | during an evening of drinking with qimir, he strangely asks if you've ever thought about dating your master.

WARNINGS | kissing, drinking, implications of a spicy time post-story

RATING | teen+

NOTES | again this is probably outside of canon but all i can say is ilq (i love qimir)

///

In the lower level of Qimir’s newest target of a store invasion, several drunken bottles of alcohol and used shot glasses clutter the front counter. You sit across from him on a high stool, as if you were a customer to his bartending. 

Which wasn’t quite far off, since he was the one who poured and bought everything for you tonight. Qimir had called for a celebration; you had successfully raided a small village nearby, seizing all valuable goods and leaving no witnesses behind. You did it for yourself, but also for your anonymous master–the same one Qimir serves. 

While you are your master’s dedicated pupil, Qimir’s tasked with being your resourceful guide. He follows you across the galaxy, always having anything you need at your disposal and knowing where to go, who to find, and how to concoct everything from anything.

Sure, he may be clumsy and occasionally overly inquisitive, but you’ve grown to like him. 

So much that you're retelling the time when a female Gungan tried to fight you in a cantina on Tatooine.

“And so, it turned out they thought I was the one who stole her ex-boyfriend, but it was the human at the table next to mine!”

Qimir breaks into a smile and nearly spits out the lomin ale in his mouth. After a fit of coughing and swallowing his drink, he shakes his head fondly. He seems truly amused and fully relaxed, though perhaps mostly due to the alcohol.

A few beats pass. It's a comfortable silence at first. 

But then he starts playing with the stem of his bottle, and the air slowly begins to shift. It shifts entirely when he asks the next question–

“Why aren't you like this around him?” 

Him referring to your shared master. 

The mixture of spicebrew, lomin ale, Corellian wine, and whatever else you had has lowered your filter completely. You answer frankly, folding out your fingers to list the reasons. 

“Firstly, he needs to get me drunk. Secondly, he’s not you, Qimir. And third, disregarding everything I just said: how do you know I'm not?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, his eyes fixed on you as he raises an eyebrow and takes another swig of his drink.

“I mean, if he eventually shows his face to me, maybe I could. But until then…” 

Nonchalantly, you lift a shoulder and down the rest of what’s in your cup. After finishing, you lean back onto the counter, resting your chin in your upturned palm, and wait for him to fill your cup again. 

And so he does, but Qimir becomes uncharacteristically pensive. Eyes focused on serving you, rather than on you. After pouring your drink, his playfulness with the bottle turns into a tight-fisted grip. Maybe drunk Qimir was more somber. Quiet.

“Maybe…” His voice drops to a lower, deeper register than you’re used to, his eyes avoiding yours as his mouth tightens. An index finger rhythmically taps against his bottle, like a dooming countdown. “Maybe he’s not sure if you’re loyal enough to see his face.” 

The sudden slamming of your cup against the counter breaks his demeanor, and he’s back to being his usual, easily-startled self. 

“Well, that frustrates the shit out of me because I respect him!” you cry, almost yelling at him. 

Qimir’s gaze sharpens, giving you his entire attention, and you stare back resolutely. Readying yourself, as if confiding in him might reach your master’s ears, wherever he may be. Hell, he probably was listening with a device somewhere on Qimir, on you, or within the store.  

“I obey him. I've killed for him. I’d do anything for him,” your voice slightly wavers, but you push on. “I am literally devoted to him with every breath in my body.” 

There’s a sting in your eyes, but you refuse to let yourself show weakness, even if it’s just Qimir in front of you. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you let the burn scald your throat, drowning any trace of sadness or frustration. 

You chug for some time. After a while, Qimir lifts a hand, but you abruptly stop drinking and interject with a tired chuckle and small smile; he awkwardly drops his hand. 

The serious moment passes swiftly with a twinkle in your eye. You silently thank the alcohol for that.

“Although, maybe that's half a lie.”

In the corner of your vision, you catch the intrigued quirk in Qimir’s eyebrow, along with a flicker of anger. Barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you wonder why he would be angry.

You waggle a finger. “Keep this between us, but”—you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper—“I'm probably more devoted to you than to him.”

You exchange a glance, and the expression on his face shifts from seriousness to amusement, the flicker of anger completely dissipated. He mirrors your earlier stance, resting his chin in his palm. 

“That's only because I help you all the time,” he says, granting you a soft smile that reaches his eyes. 

This is a rare moment from Qimir, so you try your best to commit it to memory. Remembering his warm glow, the crinkles around his eyes, and how close he is to you. So close that the hint of the alcohol in his breath brushes your face, but it’s not as strong as you thought it would be.

“Well, there's that…” you admit, nodding, and you break eye contact as you say–

“But you're also my friend, Qimir.”

You barely breathe the last few words out in a whisper, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. But you aren’t–worry merely runs rampant as you fear rejection or something of a similar shade, despite it being just a platonic confession. 

“I am?” 

His reaction causes you to peer back at him. He draws his head back with a tilt, and you’ve never seen him so puzzled before. There’s a brief pause as he gives it some thought, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Then, he nods his head and his lips curl into a crooked, almost cocky, grin. 

“Huh. I guess I am.”

You clutch your chest in jest and muster your best puppy-eyed frown. “Ouch, if I knew this relationship was that one-sided, I would’ve asked him for another one of his followers to replace you.” 

The glimmer in his eyes reads as good-natured, but the blatant flexing of his grip against the edge of the counter says otherwise. 

“You wouldn't.”   

You push back, jutting out your chin and getting close to him again with a flash of a smirk. 

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

You stare at each other, holding your ground. 

But then he breaks the little game when he slightly drags his lower lip between his teeth, followed by a fleeting glance towards your mouth.

Your breathing hitches. 

In an instant, the moment shatters when Qimir clears his throat and pulls back.  

“Do you…” Qimir begins hesitantly, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing a random spot on the counter. He inhales deeply, almost as if he’s steeling himself, then continues, “Have you ever thought you and him could be, like, something more?”

“You mean…” You squint, searching for the right words. “...have I ever thought about dating my master?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

You raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at him. 

“You've met him, right? We’re talking about the same guy?”

Before he answers, he sips again from his bottle. You become entranced by Qimir’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with each glug. Maybe these thoughts were being filtered through beer goggles, but if Qimir wanted to know about your current ranked dating choices, he'd probably be at the top of your list. 

A soft pop sounds as his lips detach from it. The word kissable flashes through your mind. 

“I mean, I know he's not really the talkative type but–”

“But what if he's butt-ass ugly?” you blurt out in a screech, pressing your hands into your cheeks in your drunken state.

“He is not butt-ass ugly,” Qimir cuts in, more defensively than you expect. 

You drop your hands and chortle loudly, so much that it echoes throughout the store. In disbelief, you grin ear to ear. 

“I thought you said you haven't seen him before!” you say, holding out an arm. 

“I—I didn't. Haven't! I haven’t,” he stammers, raising a hand and shaking his head. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “But why must you assume he's ugly?”

You groan, shaking closed fists and tapping them to your forehead. “Why else wouldn’t he take off that stupid mask?” 

You glance up, seeing Qimir’s nostrils flare as he opens his mouth, but you quickly cut him off. 

“And why would I like him that way anyway? All he does is just bark orders and share wise, yet oddly cryptic, phrases.” 

“Hey, so do I,” Qimir retorts, flicking the tip of your nose with his finger. The force he uses makes your nose sting a bit, but you’re sure he didn’t mean to flick you that roughly. In response, you ruffle your nose petulantly. 

You could definitely get used to being like this with Qimir more often. 

“Yeah, but you’re not as cryptic,” you point out, “and he’d be lucky if he was half as handsome as you, Qimir.”

You lightly touch his arm, expecting him to bask in your compliment, but he catches you off guard with a chuckle instead. 

“Why are you laughing at my compliment?” you ask, somewhat hurt.

“I'm just enjoying your company, my”—he hesitates for a second, as if catching himself from saying something else, before meeting your gaze—“my friend.” 

The way he says friend hangs in the air, carrying an unspoken weight. He shakes his head, as if brushing off a thought, and laughs awkwardly. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

Surprisingly, he continues to dwell on the subject of you and your master. “I mean, if you really think about it, the guy's probably lonely. Probably also likes you a lot more than he lets on and–”

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?” 

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s already darting upstairs to his temporary bedroom. 

“Qimir, answer me!” you call out. “Is he a distant cousin? You must’ve seen him before if he’s related to you.” 

“Good night, my friend!” he hollers back.

“Qimir, get back here!”

“Sweet dreams! And drink some water before you go to bed!” 

Even in moments like these, Qimir still manages to have the final say, his words always laced with the utmost care for you.

///

A few hours go by, the moonlight shining strongly in the night sky. In the comfort of your makeshift bed nestled in one of the corners of the store, you toss and turn aimlessly. Your mind replays everything with Qimir from the last few hours.

And then realization hits you like a sack of duracrete bricks.

You bolt upright up from the bed and switch between muffling a scream in your pillow and smacking it against your face. 

How could you have been so blind to how obvious it all was?

Throwing aside your covers, you carefully and quietly tiptoe upstairs. 

At the top of the stairs, with the help of a few burning candles nearby, you peek at the sight of Qimir snoring softly on his side, arms flopped in different directions; it warms your heart.

You approach and take a seat on the empty side of his bed, summoning courage to gently trace the contours of his face, following the sharp lines of his jaw. He stirs awake moments later, turning to face you directly. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Qimir mumbles groggily. He rubs his eyes. “Everything all right?” 

“Qimir, can you pass a message onto my master?” you ask urgently. 

“Right now?” he groans in annoyance, sitting up. “Can't it wait until morning?” 

“No, I'm sure you can pass it on now. It’s a pretty simple message.” 

You lean in. It’s a quick kiss as your hand rests on his arm. It has to be quick, or else you might change your mind. 

Plush lips press against yours. It’s still and tense for a beat, and then he replies with a slight kiss back. He’s the one who breaks away first, but he leans his forehead against yours.

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion. 

You slide your hands to the nape of his neck.

“If you mean kissing yourself, then yes, Master.” 

Like flipping a switch, Qimir’s demeanor transforms into something entirely else. His presence intensifies, exuding confidence and strength you’re unused to. His eyes darken, locking onto yours with a gaze that can penetrate your soul. 

His rich, deep voice returns from before, now tinged with authority.

“Took you long enough, my acolyte.”  

This Qimir—your master—moves swiftly with urgency. His grip on your body is firm, almost possessive. His kisses are passionate, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor. 

“Told you I'm not ‘butt-ass ugly,’” he mumbles, almost growling, between kisses. You giggle, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan as he presses his body firmly into yours.  

“And my mask isn’t stupid. I'll have you know it saved me so many–”

You silence your master with another kiss, focusing on the present and pushing aside debates that could be saved for later.

For now, all you want is to remain in the comfort of his bed, letting the night truly begin, marking the beginning of what your master and you have unknowingly long awaited for. 

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in the midst of a war that threatens to tear the realm asunder, you offer robb a temporary reprieve from the weight of his duties.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: robb stark x baratheon!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), heavy kissing, groping, biting/marking, unprotected p in v sex, obligatory stark breeding kink (they all have one), robb is a little rougher (but loving!), missionary position, robb is a tease, robb has a thigh fixation (credit to @dipperscavern on that one!), cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), getting eaten out on the war table, soft + sweet ending!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is my first time writing for robb so please be gentle !! I had sooooo much fun with this though, I would absolutely not be opposed to writing more of him! I hope you all enjoy reading it, thank you so much! ❤️

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬 — 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞.

War was an ugly thing — cruel, like rust upon a blade, threatening to disintegrate all within its path, or a festering plague, leaving destruction in its wake. Such exposure to all of its callousness had startled you, and yet, it did not fracture your pious demeanor.

Wed to Robb Stark in the midst of grueling chaos was something that you hadn’t envisioned for yourself; once caught within a web of luxury, now condemned to a battlefield.

Marriages of convenience were commonplace, with your status and family offering the Stark cause a wealth of resources. With what time you had at his side, Robb did not treat you unkindly — he was often pensive, agitated, brusque — but that was no fault of your own.

As you withdrew from your own family and assimilated into his own, you had realized that he deserved your compassion now, more than ever. The death of his father was still evergreen, like a fresh wound that was slow to heal.

It was effortless for you to sympathize, having lost your own father rather recently, something that did not feel entirely real. A sliver of your being wondered about your siblings — how they fared, if they truly missed you.

According to the innumerable rumors that had reached your ears, you were one of the only Baratheons sired who did not possess the blood of a bastard.

It left you with this chasm, gnawing away at your very soul — your family was not your family, your father slain, gored down by a wild boar, your uncles clawing at the throat of one another. Your Mother, a figure who had both inspired fear and fury, placing your monstrous sibling upon the Iron Throne.

Loneliness was a constant companion, save for that of your lord-husband, who was often away fighting his own battles. Gaining mastery over your own discontent, you made your loyalty to Robb known whenever you could, be it through softspoken whispers or the merit of action.

This night, however, was different; the dew-laden gale had quieted, the sting of dusk’s chill subdued to make way for a temperate evening. Having filled your needy lungs with enough fresh air, you returned to your shared tent, guards posted outside, bearing shields with direwolf sigils.

Poised beside the planning table, Robb sat firmly within a wooden seat, fist tucked beneath his bearded chin, auburn brows furrowed together. Exuding a poised concentration, you did not break his focus, silently striding toward your makeshift vanity.

Ripples of frustration wafted from him, nearly palpable as you reached for your nightgown. He hadn’t moved, picking apart the arrangement of wooden pieces across a board — his hand would soon be dealt.

In the spiritedness of his youth, Robb was both tenacious and methodical, born for the taxing role of leadership. With the title of King of the North weighing down upon him, there were expectations — men counting on him, moves to be made. He did not wish to look weak.

Clutching the silken fabric between your fingers, you quietly approached him where he sat, wanting to inquire about his thoughts. An awkward tension still lingered around the fringes of your blossoming bond — a bond that had moved slowly, but had not yet withered away.

“What is it you seek?” The first to fracture the tenuous silence, you watched as Robb exhaled; steely, resolute. Your untrained eyes were not accustomed to that of a battlefield, but you knew enough to understand the current position.

Eerily quiet, Robb’s gaze narrowed upon the lion figureheads that swarmed The Trident, measuring his own forces against that of Tywin’s. He had lost track of time, wasting away at this very table, attempting to see something that simply wasn’t there.

At last, his hand shifted from his chin to the table, clenching into a closed fist, posture coiled with a bristling irritation. It was not directed at you; merely the situation he found himself in. “I wish that I knew.” He confessed, Northern timbre thick with frustration.

Timidity had not yet gripped you, and you allowed your hand to ghost above his shoulder, clad in leather. Your hold was tender and yet so distant, as if you were afraid of leaning into it fully.

Robb sighed, allowing a sliver of tension to unfurl from his muscles when you graced him with your touch. Cerulean hues flickered from the war table to your hand; as delicate as that of bellflower that grew along the earthy banks of the Trident.

Reaching for you, calloused digits tenderly wrapped around your hand, thumb tracing over the soft ridges of your knuckles. “Forgive me for my absence, my Lady,” Robb did not want there to be some bridge between you — you were undeserving of it. “It is not a slight against you.”

A pang of warmth slithered across your body, heating your features as you squeezed his hand, like velvet against roughened leather. “I did not think it was,” You reassured, voice as sweet as summertime. “You are fighting a war.”

A brief scoff erupted from his throat, one of disdain. “If I do not plan ahead, then I will be losing a war instead of fighting one.” Robb murmured, unable to rid himself of his mounting agitation. He did not enjoy dragging this into your marriage, but it was unavoidable.

Perhaps you’d grown curious, allowing your gaze to drift over him, over his strong, comely features; the thick curls of a dark auburn, visage shadowed by a beard, hues like that of a clear brook. He was handsome to you — moreso like this.

“You underestimate your ability as a tactician,” Lips twitched into a comforting smile, hoping to offer him some brief reprieve. “The answer will make itself known to you. The longer you sit and toil over this table, you will drive yourself mad.”

A threadbare smirk had ghosted over his features, a fleeting gesture that seemed to linger for longer than expected. Appreciative of your sage advice, Robb drew your hand closer, lips pressing against the skin of your knuckles.

“It can rest until dawn.” Robb concurred, albeit reluctantly. As much as he desired to strategize here and now, the lack of clear answers had ruffled him to no end. He turned slightly within the chair, wood groaning beneath him as he angled himself away from the table.

Instead, the sight before him now was far more appealing than that of any parchment or Flayed Men figurines. He found you, standing near him in a gown of buckthorn and ivory, shades that had complimented you nicely.

Robb was fortunate to have you; dutiful, a heart swollen with kindness, and as pious as a septon. Such admirable qualities had only accentuated your beauty, one that far exceeded your rotten kin, the whole of them spoiled, save for you.

It was wrong of him to want you with such ferocity, this innate desire to covet you, keep you tethered to him, but he could not help himself. He had grown rather fond of you — overprotective, perhaps, but such was the duty of a husband.

“Is there anything that I can do to offer some relief? I cannot imagine the weight that you shoulder,” The soothing cadence of your voice had stirred some carnal feeling within him. The relief he sought was of a different sort. “You carry it well.”

A bemused huff of laughter rippled through him, a glint of something peculiar dancing within his gaze. Robb knew that you were paying him a generous compliment, careworn fingers idly caressed over your own, a beat of silence following suit.

It was then that your wandering eyes found the front of his tunic, partially unclasped, revealing a glimpse of his musculature beneath. Even following your stiff consummation, you were still incredibly smitten, as if it were the first time again.

“Your presence is more than enough, I assure you.” There was some partial truth to his words, placating you in the process. He shielded you from the brunt of his desirous thoughts, wanting you terribly, as a man yearned for his wife.

Unconvinced, you let the matter rest, offering him an amiable smile, teeming with a fond warmth as you quietly admired him. In the face of such callous adversity, Robb stood above it all — those who underestimated him would surely regret it, you suspected.

As his stare returned to meet yours, you nearly buckled at the intensity of it, as if he had dared to set you ablaze through eyes alone. A hitch formed within your throat, lips parting as he planted another kiss to your knuckles.

“You are beautiful,” Robb murmured, beard prickling against your wrist as he noted your sheepish countenance. It was easy to ensnare you so, a simple task, and he reveled in it. You were a delight, one that illuminated the hazy murk of his current state. “My wife.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, unable to think of some deflecting response, averting your gaze. His cadence had roused some inkling of fire within you, and addressing you as wife only served to fan this flame.

Rising from the chair, Robb’s stature began to loom above you, cerulean hues glistening with the onslaught of desire. His affection for you had steadily grown over the past few moons, and now, it seemed uncontrollable — rampant, even.

“Robb.” His name caught within your throat, feeling the plane of his musculature press snugly against your own body. Your sweetness was beguiling to him, the doe-like look permeating your eyes.

Strong palms cupped your hips through the silken plane of fabric that clung to you, his demeanor melding into something stoic, instead. There was a sliver of hesitancy present, as if he were waiting for you to consent before continuing.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you felt his hand lift, sweeping your tresses aside, exposing the slender expanse of your throat to him. “I’ve missed your warmth.” Robb’s husky confession nearly makes your bones lurch, stomach churning with an intense want.

In the midst of such tumultuous chaos, crushed beneath the weight of a senseless war, Robb found himself needing you more than ever. There was a respite he found within you, a sanctuary that offered him solace from heavy responsibilities.

Admittedly, you had grown to crave him in ways you never thought possible, and this only seemed to stoke the flames. Frustration emanated from him, coiled within his broad shoulders, thinly-veiled upon his rugged visage.

“As I’ve missed yours, husband.” Breathless, you watched as Robb’s gaze became shadowed with desire, the hint of a mirthful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. You felt his hand knead into the swell of your hip, beseeching you to sit against the edge of the table.

Planting a kiss to your jaw, Robb felt your soft palm move beneath his tunic, drifting toward the exposed skin of his chest. It evoked a gentle growl from him, more wolf than man. “I suppose I’ll have to remedy that.” He uttered, watching as you nodded in agreement.

In a heated surge, his lips found yours, biting with hunger, palms continuing to knead at your flesh over your evening shift. A gasp rippled through you, one of exhilaration as you clamored to reciprocate, arm draping over his shoulder.

The soft brush of his auburn curls swept against your fingertips, prompting your palm to cup the nape of his neck. His lips were a kiss of fire, instilled with a wanton vigor as you reciprocated with your own flurry of desire.

A soft moan bubbled within your throat, skin beginning to crawl with heat as he urged you closer, body molding to his own. Robb craved the saccharine taste of your mouth, craved the innocence and purity that wafted from you, a doe laid bare before the wolf.

One hand curled into the fabric of your gown, beginning to guide the material up, letting it drift along your legs. As if acting upon instinct, your legs began to part, as if involuntarily welcoming him in, accommodating his muscled frame that wedged between.

With an incendiary caress, your hand continued to dance beneath his tunic, urging the leather ties to come undone. A brief huff of excitement tore past his lips, gaze eclipsed by a powerful yearning, and in-turn, he coaxed your gown toward your thighs.

Mouths continued to intertwine; desperate kisses born of a mounting desire, one that had grown into an unbounded flame. Leather fell away from his torso, exposed to the pale muscle, chest covered in a generous layer of dark auburn hair.

Robb allowed one hand to slip against your bare flesh, enticed by the way your breath hitched at the brief sensation. Darkening hues raked over you, laced with possessiveness, ardor — it seemed to swallow you whole.

As his digits sought the coalescing heat between your thighs, you shivered at the caress of cold fingertips, making their way beneath your gown. “Robb.” A sharp gasp inhabited your lungs, piercing your ribs as he withdrew from your lips.

“Does this displease you?” Robb’s cajoling tone held inklings of something sultry, intended to tease you as he held you close. Met with the immediate shake of your head, he fought to withhold a threadbare grin.

“Gods, no,” As if possessed, your hips lurched forward, desperately seeking the friction of his hand. “I—I need you.” Unable to smother your own bristling desire, your hands molded themselves to his broad shoulders, egging him closer.

Lips began to pepper themselves along your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh like that of a keen predator. A moan tumbled from your mouth, knees squeezing incessantly at his hips, able to feel his fingers crawl along your inner thigh.

Akin to tendrils of searing heat, you nearly whined as Robb’s digits found your cunt, ghosting over your petals with a torturous, feather-light caress. He enjoyed watching you gasp and writhe, nails digging crimson crescents into his flesh.

Stringing constant kisses to your throat, his cerulean gaze savored you, this creature of beauty. A breathy whimper left you as he trailed his fingers over your slit, able to feel the nectar that had slicked your nethers.

“Easy.” Robb’s sultry timbre fanned beside your jugular, prompting you to still as his digits dipped between your folds. Each languid caress evoked a shiver from you, heat festering over your flesh.

“Do not torment me, I beg of you.” With a whimpered protest, your nails dug further still, countenance a reflection of exhilaration as he began to sluggishly caress along your cunt. A sly chuckle escaped Robb’s mouth, teeth greedily nipping at your jugular.

Treating you to the rhythmic ministrations of his hand, your hips continued to lurch forward, a string of moans freely leaving your mouth. A calloused hand found its way to your thin shift, seeking to remove it altogether.

Adjusting your position, you swiftly assisted your husband in the unceremonious removal of your garments, allowing the fabric to come billowing away from your form.

A low hum of approval resonated from Robb, whose mouth was voracious, seeking to kiss and suck at your flesh. In unabashed rapture, his hungry gaze raked over your form, mouth continuing to lavish you in strings of heated kisses.

“I cannot stand being away from your side,” As the unexpected confession floated into the slim space between your bodies, Robb tensed, teeth stilling against your collarbone. In the wake of rising sentiments, it was difficult not to vocalize your own wanting. “I need you here.”

Darkened hues set themselves upon you, pitch blues that seemed to sink their teeth into you. His chest swelled with desire, a feeling so overwhelming that he nearly pounced upon you.

Continuing to stroke along your slit, he pressed a kiss to your naked shoulder. “Is that so?” Robb’s cadence invoked some lascivious curiosity within you, one that made your hips jolt. “As my lady commands.”

Mouths delicately searched for one another, embracing in a brazen entanglement. The flame of his kiss left you with naught but ash, and you nearly thanked him for it. Steadying yourself atop the table, your hands reached out, cupping his bearded jaw.

Such heat was fleeting as Robb’s lips delved over your throat, his descent steady as he lavished your flesh in kisses. Hunger danced across your skin, and you felt yourself quake with a surge of desire, the scratch of his beard prickling the valley between your breasts.

A strangled whine slipped past your lips, wooden pieces of the war table clattering behind you as your hand reached backwards. Robb remained unperturbed by this, gaze ravenously admiring your physique, from the velvety skin to your feminine curves.

Down, down; his descent was paved with ardor, allowing to bleed freely from each kiss, aided with the occasional gnaw of his teeth. He worshiped you as he would some goddess, a low growl stirring within his throat as he reached your stomach.

With the table’s lowered height, it gave him an unhindered advantage, strong palms continuing to knead into your thighs. “Beautiful.” Robb murmured, hot breath fanning across your abdomen. You were the envy of all, beauty unmatched in his eyes.

Kneeling before you, a sinner come to utter devious confessions between your thighs, Robb urged you closer, feeling the rake of your fingertips through his crown. Kisses continued to etch themselves into your body, from the swell of your hips to the silky canvas of your inner thighs.

“Robb,” A tremulous moan spilled from your lips, wrought with a burning desperation. Wolfish hues did not leave you as he allowed your legs to rest against his shoulders, head nestled comfortably between. “Robb.”

Nails dug into the parchment beneath your palm, a wisp of air lodged within your throat as your husband sought the heat of your cunt. You very nearly lurched from the table, a strangled whine elicited from you.

With a broad stroke of his tongue, he raked hot embers over your core, hands steadying you, calloused digits pressing into the meat of your haunches. The unexpected surge of pleasure washed over you within an instant.

Anchoring yourself to the table with one hand, the other sought to sink into his crown of auburn curls, nimble digits finding a handful. A low, sonorous growl erupted from the depths of his throat, tongue possessing a fervent desire of its own.

The shadow of his beard scratched against your supple flesh, leaving behind a prickling burn in its wake. You cared little for what mess it would leave, galloping after whatever pleasure Robb provided. Eager lips traced the damp outline of your nethers.

Lurching forward, your hips jolted, urging yourself onto his tongue with a twinge of desperation. His tongue continued to greedily lap at your slit, teasing your entrance before moving to ghost around the pearl of your cunt.

A man starved, Robb consumed you as if he were withering away, enraptured by your myriad of throaty praises and tugs of his curls. Calloused digits kneaded into your pliant flesh, keeping you grounded, shoulders spreading you apart.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Robb made sure to savor you, letting the flat of his tongue fall heavy across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, the sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. A lascivious hunger swelled within him, an innate, domineering need to possess you, claim you like that of a wolf.

Those shieldbearers that stood diligently outside of his tent were, unfortunately, subjected to the sounds of sensuality inside. He cared little if the whole of the encampment heard, so long as they all knew whom you belonged to.

Robb remained somewhat wordless during this process of pleasuring you, preferring for his ministrations to speak for themselves.

A myriad of delighted moans tore past your lips, eyes pleasantly half-lidded, fingers continuing to rake throughout his auburn curls. You urged him closer, hips rolling into the fervent heat of his mouth, thighs quivering as he treated you to a lap of his tongue.

This barrage of bliss assaulted your body with such intensity, molten heat churning within the pit of your stomach, oozing between your thighs. Robb savored your taste, hands kneading their way along your legs, keeping you firmly rooted in-place.

The tip of his nose brushes along your petals, tongue splitting deeper still, until he vigorously laps at your nethers. Your taste permeates his mouth, a bittersweet ambrosia that draws him into some lovestruck haze.

“Gods, do not stop,” It became some desirous incantation, breathy pleas spilling from your lips, accompanied by his name, a constant upon your tongue. Thighs twitched around him, with the wolf-king rightfully smothered between your legs. “Robb, please!”

A grunt of approval reverberated throughout his chest, the vibration of it felt along your cunt. A thin layer of perspiration began to coalesce against your spine, cooling with the temperate climate. It was then that his tongue began to circle around your pearl, prompting your hips to lurch forward.

Shockwaves of ecstasy rushed through you, flooding throughout your insides like some cascading wave. Keeping you grounded against the table, he greedily lapped at the pearl of your cunt, savoring the string of mewls that escaped your lips.

A coil of taut heat sat firmly within your belly, beginning to unfurl as your Northern husband has his fill of you with an incessant need. Wanton fingers continue to tug against his crown of curls, evoking a sharp groan from within his chest.

Able to feel the first onslaught of your peak, you fought against crying out, attempting to tame your ecstatic whimpers. A sob of delight wracked your throat, body bending to his ministrations, succumbing to pleasure.

Lips pursed around the pearl of your cunt, suckling upon the sensitive clutch of nerves. A sharp gasp penetrated your lungs, like a sudden stab of intensity that made your thighs tremble. With a roll of your hips, Robb intermingled such actions with broad strokes of his tongue.

“Robb!” Gods help you; such ecstasy had been foreign to you for the longest time, and now, it was overwhelming. Strong, veined hands kneaded themselves into the swell of your hips, urging you onto his tongue as you approached your pinnacle.

It was a melody that he would never tire of, the delighted cadence of your voice, tapering off into an amalgamation of praises and moans. Flushed and desperate, Robb felt his cock throb incessantly within his trousers, aching to bury himself within you.

“That’s it, love.” Robb growled, teeth nipping at the supple flesh of your inner thigh, Northern timbre sending shivers up your spine. His tone was husked with desire, shadowed gaze closely following your face.

Buckling beneath the weight of your mounting arousal, your body succumbed, as if a barrier had been obliterated. A surge of heat flooded your insides, pooling between your thighs as you quivered in the aftermath.

Dutiful as ever, Robb’s mouth teased you further, sluggishly lapping at your nectar, a glistening sheen clinging to his chin. The scratch of his beard made for a pleasant contrast, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath.

Feather-light kisses etched themselves into your thigh, as your husband slowly began to withdraw. Darkened hues met your gaze, imbued with a rousing hunger that set your bones ablaze.

Despite the ruinous state of the war-table, pieces having been scattered in all directions, Robb only wished to continue. His hands found the plush swell of your hips, guiding you back against his chest, lips pressing to your shoulder.

“Shall I take you here or in our bed, m’lady?” His inquiry was permeated with a thinly-veiled arousal, tone a touch lower than before. The Northern coarseness of it made you shudder in delight, hands finding the nape of his neck.

The leather-clad swell of his cock gently rocked against your nethers, causing a gasp to inhabit your lungs. With his need made evident, your own eagerness demanded that he not be kept waiting. One hand drifted to the ties of his breeches, giving them a brief tug.

“Bed,” As the singular syllable floated from your lips, Robb steered you toward the makeshift mountain of furs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. In the midst of your movement, you untied his trousers, letting them sag upon his hips. “Please.”

It was Robb whose legs had kissed the furs first, palms molding themselves to your curves, hastily kicking out of his breeches. His mouth sought yours, lips colliding in a fervor of teeth and tongue, able to taste remnants of yourself throughout.

Moving backwards, Robb settled onto the bed, taking you with him, strong hands gripping you with such quiet strength. Muscled forearms remained taut, maneuvering you beneath him in the midst of entangled limbs and desperate kisses.

As your back slithered across the plush hide of elk and bear alike, you gazed at your husband, whose rugged features were flushed, swirling with lust. He made himself comfortable between your legs, savoring the sensation of your thighs squeezing at either side of his hips.

Calloused digits immediately seized the plush meat of your thigh, tracing across the silken skin, reveling in your beauty. Robb considered himself fortunate, to wed one as comely as you, with your graciousness and gentle heart.

Bodies molded together, the brush of his chest ghosting across your breasts, the swell of his cock beginning to press against your stomach. The mesmerized spark within your eyes had set his body ablaze, swallowed in the same warmth that had consumed you.

“You’re mine,” Robb murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw, teeth catching against the delicate flesh there. “My wife.” Such use of the affectionate title had roused a familiar slick between your thighs once more.

“As you are mine,” With bated breath, you allowed your legs to coax him in, continuing to flex around his hips. Shadowed hues roved over your countenance, lips peppering themselves across your throat as he adjusted himself. “I am yours.”

The tenderness of your declaration could not be understated, saturated with a yearning that rivaled his own. It was as if the flame raged between you both, demanding to be extinguished. Maneuvering himself, the tip of his cock gliding along your nethers.

A swirl of molten liquid churned violently within the pit of your belly, skin crawling with a neediness that seemed to glisten within your gaze. Robb held you close, steeling himself as he allowed his restraint to shatter altogether.

With a hasty draw of his hips, you felt him swarm inward, beginning to sheathe himself inside of your cunt. A soft whimper escaped you, feeling yourself clench around him out of sheer want. His groan vexed you, fingertips cupping the nape of his neck.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “I need you.” Your plea was met with a subtle groan.

The initial pace was one of urgency, fervent desire running rampant, an uncontrollable wildfire. Robb’s hips had started as sluggish rolls before turning into calculated thrusts, propped up atop the furs with one arm.

Clinging to him as if you were a drowning woman, your husband maintained an ironclad grip upon your thigh, digits kneading into the flesh there. A cacophony of moans tore past your throat, countenance screwed into a blissful expression.

His cock filled you perfectly, as if he were designed by the careful hand of the Seven, molded especially to your liking. Foreheads momentarily brushed together, lips clamoring until they connected in a bruising kiss.

Robb’s hand splayed next to your face, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, the fervor steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your wolfish paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

A breathy ‘fuck’ spilled from his lips, caught between wanton sighs and groans of rapture. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips, evoking a growl from Robb.

One could never mistake Robb’s roughness for something malicious, each thrust of his hips passionate; bleeding with ardor. It was this intense pace that you so adored, craved — it kept you grounded, made to understand the depths of his growing devotion.

He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you, writhing beneath him. Friction blossomed between you both, an insatiable heat that only served to further his hunger. With another kiss, Robb’s teeth caught against your lower lip, allowing it to linger.

Robb shuddered at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of your hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together. Heat prevailed, licking along your spine as his thrusts grew with haste.

The lewd, crass union of intertwined flesh filled his tent, breathy sighs and strenuous groans only adding to the ambiance. Hot breath fanned across your jaw as he pressed a kiss there, teeth nicking the delicate flesh.

A whimper of bliss bubbled from your lips as he became invigorated in his pace, rocking himself into you with a certain fervor. His grip upon your thigh had only strengthened, fingertips threatening to leave bruises in the wake of your lovemaking.

Digits tangled into auburn curls, briefly tugging at his tresses as you kissed him once more, swollen lips begging for another. Robb obliged you without question, hips urging themselves into you over and over again, his cock hitting new depths.

It was sticky and desirous, perspiration glistening upon his brow, features painted by the now-waning embers of the brazier. Even then, his cerulean hues were filled with such devotion, a yearning that had made butterflies erupt within your stomach.

Heat persisted, gazes meeting with such ardor, causing you to shiver beneath his stare. Arousal permeated between your thighs, slick and ambrosial, the scent of coupling invading your senses.

Robb groaned, the blissful noises spilling near your ear as your leg tightened around him, his arm caging you in against him. A coil of heat began to unfurl within the both of you, bodies constantly shifting against the other, an amalgamation of friction.

It was a perfect storm of sensations, ones that made you delirious with desire, crying out to the heavens. A sharp moan punctured your lungs, feeling his cock drive deeper still, until it nearly kissed your womb.

A white-hot haze invaded your senses, nearly seeing stars as your body trembled, slowly settling atop the furs. Robb’s hand held your thigh, reveling in the pliant flesh beneath, flesh that he coveted more than anything else.

With a grunt that spread throughout his sternum, Robb spilled his seed within you; a rush of warmth, one that you shared in. As you reveled in mutual release, hot ropes of spend invaded your cunt, an inevitable duty, that of conception.

Admittedly, Robb wished for it — to see you swollen with his babe, a sizable family that rivaled that of his own. There were discussions of this desire beforehand, one that you had taken keen interest in.

Keeping himself sheathed within you, his cock throbbed, relief beginning to unfurl from his shoulders, a tension now extinguished. In the afterglow, he made sure to pepper you in kisses, rugged scruff scratching against your cheek.

“You’re perfect.” His utterance made you smitten, removing himself from you with a lewd, sticky rush of heat. Robb did not depart from the bed, instead moving to recline against the feather pillow, placing one arm beneath his head.

Basking in the blissful aftermath of your tryst, you moved closer, taking refuge in the crook of his shoulder, crown beneath his chin. “That is one way to strip you of any stress.” You mused, smiling as his chest shook with a chuckle.

“It isn’t the only way,” Robb began, peering down at you with a playful countenance. It was the most relaxed he’d been in days — and it was all because of your very presence. Placing carnal appetites aside, he was delighted to be near you. “But I am not opposed to it.”

An ebullient giggle tumbled from your lips, nose wrinkling with amusement as you curled into his side, fingertips tracing across his chest. He was content to hold you close, digits stroking along the space between your shoulders.

“What of your table? I did not intend to ruin it,” Wooden pieces remained haphazardly scattered across the sprawling map, and in that moment, Robb cared little for it. “I suppose it was difficult to focus on anything else.”

Robb’s laugh was as warm as a midsummer’s day, pearlescent teeth glinting through the waning firelight. “Was it?” He teased, prompting you to smack at his chest — and to that, he caught your wrist, sitting up enough to find your gaze.

“It was.” A blissful shiver gripped you as Robb kissed your palm, savoring the sensation of your fingertips caressing his jaw. He leaned inward, a smirk tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Plenty of dusk left to ruin it further, before the morrow.” He murmured, a mischievous glint swirling within his cerulean hues. It only served to make you squirm — and that was more than enough, your shared laughter filling the tent.

“Then we mustn’t tarry here.” As the lascivious remark spilled from your lips, Robb had captured your lips in a kiss, disarmingly gentle. It made you yearn for him in ways that you weren’t acquainted with — and you suspected you would be.

On the morrow, it was Roose Bolton who had sharply questioned the misplacement of the wooden figureheads — and Robb was none the wiser.

[theperksofbeingstupid]

see i was playing in normal difficulty but i couldnt figure out how to open the mental map so it was like i was playing detective

[dooberific]

I absolutely love your writing!! Idk if you're open for request, but if you do, can I request doctor!reader with Harumasa? He loves to go to infirmary not only he can pretend to be sick but also just to see them

Double trouble cause I thought it sounded like a fun combination. Does using a 1988 song name as the title make me sound old? 🤔

❝ 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 ❞

harumasa x afab!doctor!reader

genre: fluff, I projected a little bit into this???

summary: if being in love with your cute doctor wasn’t bad enough, she’s completely clueless when it comes to romance

wc: 1.6k

The end of your pen tapped thoughtfully against your plush lower lip as you skimmed your notes. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart to the opened paper file on the counter beside you.

 Even cracked it was a solid two inches high and crammed full of health histories, specialty consult results and prescription sheets all bound haphazardly with what looked like ties from a bread bag. You really needed to get an actual binder to hold it all, but as of now you had other problems to address.

“Well,” you swiveled your chair around as you clicked your pen, eyes still skimming your intake sheet before you looked up with a smile, “Good news is nothing seems to be wrong. Well, let me rephrase that, wrong when compared to your baseline.” 

It was an important differentiation to make when you were dealing with one of your most tasking patients. In your two years of clinic practice in the city you had never needed to spend a series of days pouring over a patient file, heck, even before you graduated and were staged as a resident in the clinic in the Outer Ring it wasn’t so extensive. 

Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome was a bad actor, and Asaba Harumasa seemed to be its favorite role to haunt. 

He coughed pitifully, a hand splayed over his chest as he shook his head. “Are you sure, Doc? My body’s aching all over and my head feels funny, and I—,” he coughed again, “can’t seem to shake this cough.” 

You frowned, scribbling another note on your papers. “Have you been taking all your medications as indicated?”

“Just as the doctor ordered…actually,” a pensive expression decorated his face as he fisted the fabric of his work shirt, “maybe I have a deficiency in something, I think I ran out of some of my vitamins.” 

You perked up immediately, flipping quickly to his laundry list of medication and supplements. “Which one have you been missing? A? C? K?”

“I think it was vitamin you.”

“Oh.” You pulled your prescription pad off the desk. “I’m going to write you an order for  Vitamin U. Try adding some cruciferous veggies to your diet, leafy greens, broccoli, stuff like that. Call me if it starts giving you stomach problems.”

You tore the slip off your pad as you extended it to him, the paper decorated in your curling and messy script. 

“Do you need a work excuse?”

Should he just quit? This was the question he asked himself every time he stepped out the door of the clinic back onto the street, paper bag of medication in his hand. 

White coat syndrome was a very real affliction, though his heart wasn’t racing and his blood pressure wasn’t spiking because he was anxious. After the fourth visit you just assumed it was his baseline response to see his pulse spike randomly through the exam, after all, his syndrome mainly seemed to impact his heart and lungs. 

What you didn’t know was that wasn’t his baseline, nor was it a mutation of his syndrome not documented by his past physicians. It was simply a biological response to something else you conveniently seemed to not notice: the raging interest he had in you.

Rest assured he was absolutely mortified when he figured it out himself, laying on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark as he realized he was enthralled by the very idea of you. Your intelligence, your nimble hands, the way you tapped your pen against your lips when met was a challenge you hadn’t quite deciphered, your warm smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie when he would tell you he felt feverish, or that his stomach felt sick and his heart was racing, he felt all those things with horrifying clarity tenfold when your hand pressed against his forehead after noting aloud that his skin seemed flush and clammy. 

Was it crossing a line to be flirting with your doctor? Definitely, he was sure he was toeing some doctor-patient professional relationship line, but if he ended up in someone else’s care later then there really wasn’t anything holding him back. 

But he was growing increasingly convinced that if you weren’t intentionally playing dumb that you might be a little thick when it came to the nuanced science of flirtation because he had shifted from casual to nearly outright and you never batted an eye.

How else could you have misinterpreted his texts from last week? He was half-giddy with excitement, sure he had you this time.

I miss you.

Your appointment isn’t until next week, you didn’t miss anything. Have a good night :)

It haunted him nearly as much as the day he forgot his work excuse and asked you to text it to him, how proudly he had flipped the phone screen to show Tsukishiro until she squinted and asked, “Why do you have heart emojis around your doctor’s name?”

A devastating blow to his ego. But so was every failed attempt to catch your eye. 

“Do you have an inhaler? Cause you just took my breath away.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab one from the cart. You’re supposed to carry your own inhaler, Mr Asaba!” You scolded, disappearing for a moment before tossing him an inhaler. 

“You look a little under the weather yourself, Doc. Sure you aren’t deficient in vitamin M E?”

“Ah, I didn’t put as much makeup on today.” You cupped your cheeks with your hands thoughtfully. “I feel fine though, thanks for your concern.” 

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d love to give you my heart.”

“Your medical condition prevents you from joining the organ donation program.” You didn’t even bother to turn around when you acknowledged him.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat when I looked at you.”

“You’re on a medication that regulates heart rhythm, should I write you a cardiology referral?”

He went to text you again as he walked home for the evening. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. You just weren’t getting it, or maybe you were just too kind to tell him you weren’t interested or even that you had a boyfriend already on his numerous visits. Maybe he should just give you some space?

But maybe that would be cruel when you were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, mascara smeared down your cheeks as you sniffled. He pocketed his phone.

“Hey Doc, you alright?” 

You tensed, head swiveled in his direction before you quickly turned your face away, hands swiping at your cheeks before wiping them on your dark scrubs hastily.

“Oh, hey Mr. Asaba.” He frowned at your attempt at a cheerful tone, your voice still wavering from your tears before you cleared your throat. “You, uh, don’t have to call me Doc when the clinic is closed.” 

“And you don’t have to call me Mister when I’m not sitting on your exam table.” He retorted, catching the little quirk at the corner of your lips as they quivered in a small smile.

“Want me to walk you home? It’s kinda late.” 

“No, but thank you.” You peered over your shoulder towards the restaurant just behind you. You gripped your bag tighter, inching closer to where he stood beside you on the curb.  “Actually, would you mind..?” 

He didn’t have to ask you what was wrong, within the first five minutes of your walk you had apologized to him multiple times, started crying again, and spilled your heart out.

Six bad dates in the span of a couple weeks came to a head over a plate of chicken parm, your date kicking back as he declared you to be dull, hopeless, slow, and much uglier in person than your dating profile picture (which was your clinic profile photo). 

“He said that I “couldn’t take a hint”, whatever that’s supposed to mean!” You cried indignantly before you turned to him, eyes puffy and wet from your tears. 

“Am I that bad?”

He sucked a breath between his teeth. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate but I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t notice.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What?!”

He held up his hands defensively, but before he could say anything your head had already hung low, shuffling your clinic sneakers on the dirty sidewalk outside your apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small as your shoulders sank. “I’m not very good at stuff like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers grazing his choker. “I noticed, but it’s fine. You just need things to be a little more straightforward.”

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he pointed at you. “I think you’re very pretty and charming in your weird doctor-y kind of way, so I would like to take you out for dinner sometime. Like, romantically.”

He was sure you gave yourself whiplash for how quickly your head snapped up, eyes wide. You brushed your tousled hair back from your face, cheeks flushing brightly enough he could see them burning under the streetlights.

“Oh, okay….when?”

“Tomorrow after you get off? I’m dreaming of beer and fried chicken if you aren’t opposed.”

“Of course not!” 

He was a little taken aback by how aggressively you answered, your hands clasping around one of his as if he was about to dematerialize before your very eyes.

“Great, then I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Doc—I mean, (y/n).”

“Good night to you as well.”

He turned to leave. He was practically screaming inside like a teenage girl you just secured a prom date, a new lightness to his step in the wake of his victory.

“Harumasa!”

He paused in his step, head whipping around to face you. You still stood on the stoop, a smile plastered across your face like he hadn’t seen before, one that lit your eyes up and dimpled your cheek.

“Thank you!”

He gripped his chest over his heart as it flipped wildly in his chest. His grin was pained when he looked up at you. 

“Doc, I might actually need emergency care this time--,”

Rey 2024

[phyrestartr]

Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader

Main Fic W/C: 5.9k Bonus Drabbles W/C: 1.6k

[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, I KINDA EDITED BUT I JUST WANT THIS TO BE YEETED INTO THE OPEN OK BYE SORRY IF PARTS ARE CLUNKY]

@better-imagination-9 I summon thee

--

Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business. 

He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as it was made out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders. 

“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand. 

“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”

Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”

“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I'm not.” 

Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor. 

“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–” 

“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.” 

Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room. 

You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted. 

“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.” 

“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat. 

Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”

He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.

The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.

The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too. 

–

Ding. 

He knew it was you. It had to be you. You were a good person, willing to let Uraume rest while you gave your ex the update he needed about his brother. After all, you didn't fear him, nor did you yearn to please him. You were more than capable of delivering shit news and getting off scotch free. 

“So?” Sukuna took a deep puff from his cigar and leaned further into the balcony railing as you approached. 

You hummed as you sidled up next to him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as the breeze tugged at it. “He'll be fine. Yuuji's tough. He's a bit shaken up now that the adrenaline’s worn off, though.” 

“Maybe that'll teach that idiot not to get shot.” 

���Probably not.” 

“Probably not,” Sukuna sighed, tapping off a dash of ash from the butt of his cigar just before it was plucked from his hands. “Oi.” 

“These things'll kill you,” you scolded airily. “So will that.” You tried reaching for the crystalline glass of amber, too, when Sukuna scoffed and took a sip to spite you. 

“Don't,” he snarled. Any normal omega would have backed away. Any normal omega would have keened. Any normal omega would have tried to please him up with a sweet scent of submission. But you were a different breed entirely. 

“Don't growl at me–” you gaped as Sukuna downed the expensive liquor before whipping the glass at the skyline. “Sukuna.”

He stalked back into his penthouse with heavy steps as he ran his hands through his hair. He had to busy his fingers, his palms, just so he wasn't tempted to touch you, to grab you like he was used to. It'd been years since you were properly together–properly engaged in fact–but he still couldn't shake those infuriating fucking habits. You were a cancer in his mind, plaguing his body and thoughts. 

But he didn't want you to leave. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe he just liked how his entire, explosive world narrowed down to just one infuriating thing that he wanted so badly. He didn't know. Maybe he didn't need to know. 

Sukuna poured himself another drink and collapsed onto his soft leather couch with a deep sigh. His arms draped along the back, one hand still holding the glass by the rim. He let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling. 

Thankfully, you wandered in. And you wandered toward him, not to the door like you usually did when his temper flared and he acted out. Something small and pathetic in him uncoiled and settled down, purring in content when you took a seat beside him. 

“What's going on?” you asked quietly. Your fingertips singed sparks of pleasure against his skin where you touched: his cheekbones, his hairline, his furrowed brow.

He lolled his head to the side to look at you, his stupid pretty boy. “Nothing.” Not even Sukuna believed that.

You brushed his hair back, and the stupid alpha in him rose to the surface and moaned. “Yuuji’s not behaving?” Your warm palm cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it. 

“That little shit never behaves,” he mumbled through the vibrato of purrs rumbling from his chest. “Gonna make me die young.” 

“Hm. Is that why you haven't slept?” 

“I'm sleeping.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Sukuna.”

“I said–” 

“You and I have different definitions of ‘enough,’” you chided lightly, like you were scolding one of your cats. “You look tired.” 

“Maybe it's because my mate scampered off in the middle of the night.” 

“Don't blame this on me.” 

“Why not?” Wine-red eyes glowered at you, deciding whether he should dominate or decimate you. “It's your fault.” 

You recoiled the slightest bit, your top lip twitching in that oh-so familiar way it did whenever you were close to snarling and snapping at him. You had such a temper for such a calm thing. Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't try to rile you up on purpose. 

“Ho? What,” he started, grinning wickedly when you made a move to get up, but his arms snaked around you and held like wrought iron. “Feelin’ guilty?” 

“No,” you hissed, half-pissed by his drink spilling on you, half-pissed by his accusation. “Let go. I'm leaving.” 

“Leaving?” He crooned. “You always get so pissy when I don't wanna talk, ‘n now that I'm in the mood, you're tryna leave? Come on, sweetheart, that's not fair.” 

“I don't feel like fucking fighting tonight,” you snapped, and Sukuna stayed quiet for a change. “Yuuji got shot. You look like shit. And we--I haven't–” you took a deep breath. “Can't we just be civil for a night? Can't we just talk about–”

“About what?”

“About whatever.” 

“Fine.”

“Alright. Okay.” 

Somewhere behind the haze of alcohol, Sukuna's consciousness celebrated–this could be his shot at starting to fix things. This was his moment to rebuild that lost relationship and maybe clean up a space in his life for you to sit safely in. Your expectant expression agreed with him. You looked quite cute, what with your big eyes and the way you leaned into him. But instead–

“Was it a boy or a girl?” Sukuna asked before taking a sip of whatever remained in his glass. 

You blinked and shook your head, eyes narrowing the slightest as you looked over his face. “What?” You asked. 

Sukuna snorted and turned to face you, one arm gesturing with his scotch glass while the other arm stayed slung across the back of the couch. “I said,” he started, gesturing to your stomach and chuckling through his low, bassy words, “boy or girl? If it was a girl, then maybe the world did you a favour. You know how it is for women in this day and age.” 

You stared blankly like you were shellshocked, and Sukuna bubbled with near-manic, reedy laughter until you got up and walked to the door. 

“Oi, where the hell are you going, huh?” He got up and followed you, hastening his steps when he saw you b-line for the door. “Omega.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, purring into your ear as he pressed his chest to your back. “Come on, we can make another one. You'd like that, huh?” 

“Get off,” you barked, ripping his arms away from you. But he grabbed you again and spun you back to face him. You shoved him back, your mind whirling in a chaotic waltz drenched with grey thoughts and crimson rain that almost drowned out the words he barked at you until–

Whack. 

He hit you. Backhanded, fingers adorned with thick, bulky rings and knuckles that'd seen too many fights. A natural disaster contained in the vessel of a mortal man–sometimes, he didn't know his own capabilities.

“Shit,” Sukuna mumbled, scrambling to set down his glass to, what, tend to you? Rewind time? Sure. “Babe–” 

But you, too, were a natural disaster. The tsunami that came after an earthquake, raising tides high and staring down at split earth with a taunt: you think you're bad? Watch this.

Thwack. 

You snatched up that bottle of fancy scotch and hit a home run, watching Sukuna collapse to the floor.

–

Sukuna woke up with a concussion, his wallet missing, and one of his favourite cars torched. 

It got him riled up. He was too ready to hunt you down and make you rectify your mistakes–that is, until he remembered why you did what you did. 

Boy or girl?

Maybe the world did you a favour.

Fuck. He flew way too close to the sun this time.

He watched you stack up expenses on his card instead of hunting you. Your little rage-filled crime spree was kind of funny anyway, and he couldn’t help but hope it made you feel at least a little better. 

Though he knew it could never. Nothing could make it better. 

–

“You should quit messing around with him,” Ieiri said as she tended to the half-dead gangster laying on her operating table. “He's bad news. A kid like you shouldn’t be getting involved.” 

The one little, wiggly lucid part of Sukuna wanted to strangle Ieiri; you were young, sure, but not stupid. Sukuna wouldn't go so far as to say you were mature for your age, no, but you'd been beaten down by life and forced into the role of an adult for long enough that it'd changed your way of thinking, of perceiving the world. You could make your own choices–just as long as it involved him. 

“You're not the first person to tell me that,” you said softly, words rising with a small, warm chuckle. “Good guys try way too hard to put on a show, to hide how garbage they can be.” You squeezed Sukuna's hand and ran your thumb over his split knuckles. “Guys like him show you who they really are right away. Then, you get to figure out what his good side is like.” 

–

You were there again. In the elevator, looking a little pensive beyond your cool exterior. 

Sukuna took a drag from his cigarette as he stepped in beside you. The button for his penthouse leered at him and whispered, “you have time.” 

All he had to do was think of what to say. The right course of action was obvious, but–well, was it really his fault? He couldn't accept that 100%. You clocked him upside the head with a fucking glass bottle and stole his– 

“Those things'll kill you.” Your fingers snatched the smoke from his lips before he realized it. He caught you butting it out on the fancy gold railings. 

“I like things that can kill me,” he hummed, lighting another cigarette and chuckling when you snatched that one too. “What, scared of a little competition?” 

“Yes.” 

Oh. Sukuna liked that.

“I, uh,” you started, fumbling with your pockets before handing something over. “Found this.” 

Sukuna glanced your way finally. He couldn't help but laugh as he plucked the wallet from your hands. 

“Found it, huh?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Such a benevolent, pious thing. I would've kept it.” 

“Yeah, well. You're a dick. ‘Course you would.” 

“Where'd you find it?” 

“My pocket.” 

“No shit.” 

“Yeah. Weird.” 

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the empty hall leading to the penthouse. He glanced down at the door before looking back down at you. 

“Have a drink with me.”

Your expression soured. 

Sukuna threw his arm against the doors to keep them open. “Coffee?” 

Your brows lifted, the creases smoothing from your face. “Coffee.” 

Sukuna's alpha bloomed with pleased content. He sidled up next to you and rested his broad hand on the small of your back, leading you down the hall. 

“With a bit of Baileys.”

“No Baileys.”

–

He let you try to sooth his stress while you waited for your favourite, poor-person coffee to brew. 

You straddled his thick thighs as you kissed at his neck. Your hands roamed and threaded through his gelled hair, your blunt nails dragged along his scalp, coaxing rumbling purrs out of your alpha.

“Shit,” he moaned, leaning back into your hands, digging his head into your digits and grumbling like an old dog. You hummed in sympathy, and gave him harsher scritches, making his knee bounce in double time like a dog getting the spot scratched.

You weren’t done, though. You licked at his neck’s scent gland and coaxed more of his natural musk to the surface to mix with yours–a classic way to get one’s partner to calm down. You were methodical as fuck about it, too, knowing how Sukuna’s stress abruptly blocked any good scents in favour of excreting foul, angry odors into the air when he was pissed. Or, sometimes, he’d shut down completely, the only scent coming from what clung to his skin and clothes. 

And so, he needed a little more TLC to get things flowing again, to make his body disarm and let the good vibes flow. 

You nipped the swollen spot lightly, eliciting a strangled growl from the man. “Too rough?” Your tongue pressed at the spot again, and pulled more of that deep purring out of him. “Maybe not.” 

“By all means, rough me up.” That was as close to a warning as you would get from a greedy bastard like Sukuna. He wanted you to bite harder, to break skin and set the wild tornado of a mating rut into motion. You were careful to avoid him when your unholy heats crashed down on you, but being in the presence of your estranged man when he was set off–well, it’d jumpstart your sex-crazed frenzy, too. 

“Raincheck,” you murmured. 

He huffed and rubbed circles in your hips before grabbing your ass and squeezing. “When's the last time–” 

The coffee maker sang a tune and you got off, saved from your warm, fuzzy marking daze. “Does it matter?”

Sukuna got up and stalked after you, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder. “Like it or not, we're stuck with our binding vow.” His chest pressed to your back, his arms slipping around your waist as he leaned down to nuzzle into your skin. “Mated for life.” He couldn't help the smile that branded into your neck. 

You cleared your throat and snatched up two mugs. “There're surgeries–”

“No.” 

“How do you take your coffee again?” Hah. You didn't even try to argue it.

Sukuna's ego boomed. His scent grew more dominating and demanding in tow. “You know how I like it. You know the way I like everything.”

You scoffed and slapped his hand away, the sweet, teasing omega that happily marked him up and scented him to high heaven gone, now replaced with your annoying, bratty self. Ugh. He loved it as much as he hated it.

“You used to be cuter,” Sukuna commented, quiet and breathy, so out of character. His hands retreated back to hold your waist instead of keeping you trapped against him. “What happened to–”

“You know what happened.” You sounded tired, too. Angry. But not at the Sukuna standing with you right then and there. 

Sukuna's old friend, unyielding frustration, bore down on him. He sucked his teeth and beat down the urge to snap, to yell and scream, claim it wasn't his fucking fault and that you never filled him in, so how could–

His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I don't,” he sighed. “I don't fucking know, (Name). We lost our kid, I know that much, so what the fuck else is there?” 

For a moment, he thought he'd lost you again. He expected you to whirl around, throw a cup at his head and curse him to hell to start off another fight; instead, you slipped out of his hands gently, and replaced your warmth with a cup of coffee. 

“Come sit.” 

Sukuna complied. 

You tucked your legs up under you when you sat down. Your own mug was held snugly with both hands, yet your fingers fidgeted, twirling around whatever rings you had on while you thought of what to say. 

“So,” you started. “How much do you know?”

Sukuna leaned back and thought. “Uraume called. Said something was wrong.” He could remember their voice ringing in his ear, that usual, frigid demeanor exploding into something panicked and tortured as they tried to comfort you, order idiots around, and explain the situation. “They didn’t know what, but said you were bein’ taken to Ieiri. I met ‘em there, Gojo wouldn’t let me come in.” He sighed, the memories pricking his nerves. “Told me you miscarried, and–well, that’s more or less it.” 

You nodded a little, digesting the scraps of knowledge that’d been given to Sukuna. “I was alone,” you breathed. “I was–I’d been cramping. A lot. I thought–I didn't know–I just–I thought it was normal.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting more and only stilling when Sukuna's palm rested on your leg. You covered his hand with one of yours. “There was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying. Uraume and Yuuji took me to Ieiri.” 

Sukuna remembered that, too. He remembered catching sight of you just before his brother carried you away from him. It was hard to forget the sound of your wailing amidst all that red–that damned noise came from hell itself, from the burning, fetid pits of agony and despair and up through your beautiful voice. For something so foul to touch you was nothing but blasphemous.

Sukuna tried to follow you in, but that moron Gojo wouldn’t let him in, spouting some bullshit about how he’d make things worse. Needless to say, Sukuna snapped, and Ieiri suddenly had more than a mourning omega to deal with.

“I pinned it on you to cope. I didn’t know what else to do.” You spared a shy glance at him before staring down again. “...Uraume filled me in, though. You were dealing with so much shit. All that crap with the Zenins. And you didn’t even–you didn’t even know I was knocked up until I wasn’t.” You sighed and sipped your drink before setting it aside. “Guess it was easier to blame you for everything than it was to just accept I got unlucky.” 

“‘Unlucky’?” Sukuna repeated lowly, void of mirth for once.

You nodded. “Chromosome bullshit, garbage genetics, a shitty cervix. Coulda been anything.” Sukuna watched your expression shift from desolate to bitter. “And if you fuck up once and lose your pup, odds are it’ll happen again.”

“Says who?”

“Science. Doctors.”

“You really gonna take their word like that?” Your eyes met his, doey and expectant. “I'll gut ‘em myself if they say that shit next time you're knocked up.”

You looked a bit bashful then, looking away from him with pursed lips and glossy eyes. For a second, Sukuna thought you were about to snap and argue with him about how you vowed to never get pregnant again (which he'd indulge in), or maybe even bolt for the door (which he wouldn't allow), but instead, you grabbed the remote. 

“Tch. Don't say such stupid shit. It's annoying.” 

Sukuna could only grin to himself as you settled in beside him, tucking up against his side. Neither of you could swallow your pride enough to properly apologize for anything ever, but that wasn't necessarily needed–understanding was what was needed. Things had just become a little bit clearer. 

–

For once, the alpha found himself at ease. Sure, you had your petty and some less-than-petty spats, but there was a coil of contentment that stayed at the forefront of Sukuna's mind through it all. Now, he no longer fumed nor bristled, no longer wondered if you really belonged to him, no longer thought about how to trap you if he wanted to keep you around. 

Because you made more of an effort to see him, to call when you couldn't, to set his vicious wolf's heart at ease so he could rest soundly. He rested the most when you were so gracious as to curl up in those black, silken sheets with him, too.

Don't get too excited. It's just because we're mated; we'd go insane otherwise, Is how you rationalized it. And, honestly, it was cute to see you act so flippant and uncaring when Sukuna knew you were so the opposite. 

Little liar. Loves playing pretend. He gently tucked stray hairs behind your ear as you snoozed soundly beside him. It was unlike you to sleep in so late (“late” meaning past 6am), and it was unlike Sukuna to wake up before you, so it must have been kismet. 

Because this moment was the first in a long time where he got to touch you. Beyond the playful ass slaps and grabs at your hips, you never really let him feel you. Or did he just never try to touch you like this? Gently, just for the sake of feeling your skin and your warmth? 

Sukuna was a brutal man. He didn't often have a chance to be careful. If he'd had that kid, then he might've learned how; he could've learned not to throw glasses at skylines, not to lash out at his omega, not to expect you to still love you when he broke you. 

He brushed his thumb along your cheek and down to your jaw, admiring the soft skin and strong angle that led him to the curve of your chin, and your perfect lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. It'd been an eternity since he had a taste of you. Maybe if he was gentle–

I can do gentle. Sukuna shifted the slightest bit towards you until his nose lightly brushed against yours, until he felt your light breaths fan against his skin. Ah, why was his heart beating so fast now?

He did his best to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears when he brushed his lips against yours once more, before he kissed you softly. Gently. Perfectly. And he took his time parting. He had to savour the taste of your lips against his because who knew when he'd get to kiss you again? 

I love you, he heard echo in his memories when your lips parted. But he never heard himself reply. 

“Love you too, brat,” he murmured. “Don't you dare think otherwise.” 

Your eyes opened a moment later. “You mean that?” came your reply, just as light and whispered. Sukuna felt waves of heat come off your skin–were you blushing?

Crimson eyes flickered from your bashful look to the slight parting of your lips and back again. “Always.” Even though he never said it. But he let you get away with everything to show that love–credit card theft, cracking him upside the head with a bottle, abandoning him for months on end.

A soft ‘hm’ hummed through you. Your sleepy gaze melted from Sukuna’s, and down to his lips, too, while your own pursed, pensive. Thoughtful. Christ, you were really something else–just a single look from you had his mind reeling, his chest easing into a warmth so reminiscent of a campfire, the sort you both used to sit around when you’d bullied Sukuna into buying one for his too-big balcony. 

Back then, you were just “friends,” though the flirting and meaningful touches said otherwise. You were still a street doctor, introduced to him by Yuuji of all people, but you had more pep in your step, especially when you worked to try and swoon the hardened, deranged alpha you’d decided belonged to you. You’re mine, you said simply after shooting whatever whore the big, bad boss had hired for the night. The look in your eyes, cold and determined, got Sukuna achingly hard in an instant. He never wanted you to look at anyone else like that–your rage, your obsession, it could only ever be for him.

“‘M I still yours?” You still want me? You still love me? Am I still just for you?

You looked a little sentimental. A little sad, too, maybe. But maybe it was just the culmination of your fears and worries, your wants and desires finally breaking through your solemn being. 

“I'm a minimalist at heart. I've only got room for so much.”

“Don't tell me you're back on that Kondo Marie kick–” 

“But you're something I can't do without.” Yeah, I love you. I want you. I don't want much, but I want you. You're mine. “You bring me joy, or whatever the saying is. But I wanna beat the shit outta you sometimes for being a dumbass.” 

Sukuna laughed and nudged your nose with his–a small, primal gesture of fondness. “Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Tch. You're gonna have to be careful--you're gonna send my old ass to an early grave if you keep up with all this fiery youth shit.”

“Then I can inherit your fortune,” you offered airily before kissing him teasingly. Sukuna growled when your small fangs dug into his bottom lip playfully. “That'd be nice.” 

“Hah. Everything's going to family–Yuuji, the old fart.” Sukuna pulled you in closer and purred as you complied. “You'd have to–”

“I'll marry you if that's what it takes,” you cooed, and Sukuna froze. You paused for a moment, too, before lifting yourself up to look down at his dumb face. “Oi.” You pat his cheek lightly but he scowled at you, half-cranky, half-defeated. “Eeeh? You mad?”

“Tch.”

“Awe, big alpha's mad.”

“Don't.” A command. A warning. One that had your subgender reeling and whimpering behind you, but your human side smiling, ready to mock. 

You slid on top of him, straddling his waist and splaying your hands out on his broad, solid chest. Sukuna still kept his gaze elsewhere. Honestly, you couldn't blame him--you were in a mood. 

“Oi,” you prodded, poking at his ridiculous pecs and tracing over the dark lines of his irezumi. “Hey. Don't pout.” But he grabbed your hands when your stupid fingers threatened to assault his nipples, and he continued to pout. “Come on, I said I'd marry you.” 

“Tch.” You've said that before. 

“I mean it.” 

“Tch.” You’ve said that before, too.

You leaned down, and nuzzled the hollow of his cheek while he grumbled and grumped. “You don't like the idea of breeding me anymore? You don't want me to yourself, all caught up in your bedsheets with you between my legs? Hm? You don't wanna fuck me through my heat, knock me up a few more times, make me bare your children for the world to see how I belong to Ryoumen Sukuna? You don't want me to be drenched in your scent–” 

You squeaked when your man flipped you around, pinning you before ripping off the sleep shorts keeping your skin from him. His rough fingers dove deep into your slicked up hole (apparently your long list of hypotheticals had worked you up into a soft, wet, pliant thing) and hurried to stretch you wide. 

“Such an annoying little shit,” Sukuna grumbled. And you laughed, lightly and so achingly genuinely through your fluttery mewls and moans. “If you try ‘n back out this time, I'll break your fucking legs and tie you down to the bed, you got that? I'm not gonna be so fucking nice this time.”

“Eh? You were being nice last–” you whined when his wet fingers jammed into your mouth. But you obediently sucked and bit at them, holding onto his muscled arm for leverage while he kicked off his bottoms and pressed his sweltering tip to your soft entrance. 

“You got no idea, princess.” Sukuna pushed in, groaning with ancient, cursed need as your insides welcomed him and obeyed, letting his uncomfortable size push you open. Seemed your body still remembered him. Wanted him as much as your stupid pretty mouth claimed. 

You were gasping, your molars chewing into his fingers as your missing piece slid back into place, filling you up until it hurt to breathe. Strong thighs clamped down against Sukuna’s sides as he dragged you down, forcing the last bits of his cock into your very depths, squeezing a reedy whine out of you, before he pulled out and slammed right back in again and again and again.

Your cry nearly sent him over the edge. It was a loud, bassy thing, something like a cello toppling or having its string plucked too hard by a callous touch–a sound Sukuna reveled in. You were the only partner he'd had that was like this, so demanding and bitchy, absolutely horrible and as poisonous as alphas were, and he loved it. He lived and died by your gospel, by the very life that thrummed underneath his touch.

And you promised to be all his. Sukuna could have everything, anything and anyone, and that apparently included trapping and claiming a god. One that only he prayed to. One that'd only smile upon him. One that only delivered to him divine blessings. 

What a divine gift.

He folded you in half with ease and blanketed your trembling body with his own. The fingers fucking into your mouth slipped out and down to your throat where they squeezed lightly; then, they traveled to the back of your neck, found your cute little nape, and squeezed. 

Your eyes rolled back as your body arched up into him. Words left you in some ancient tongue neither you nor Sukuna could decipher. But it was a language of love and pleasure, the sort that brought delicious submission coiling through your blood in offering to the lowly creature devouring your holiness. 

“Sukuna,” you choked out. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to the old, scarred mark left there by him a decade ago. “‘Kuna, I need–” 

The boss laughed low, but with fluttery, manic high tones warped throughout. “Need me to bite you? Mark you mine again?” He taunted. His nails dug into your soft side as he fucked into you harder, lifting your waist up to meet his brutal angle as his base started to swell. “I wanna hear you say it–say you need it, you want it. Say you need me to fill your guts every fucking night. Say I'm the only one who can get you there. I'm the only one–” his other hand grabbed your nape harder, forcing your submission further, forcing your neck to the side to present it to him. 

Then, with a snarl, he added, “say ‘I do.’” 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you murmured those very words into his ear. 

I do. 

Sukuna's heart howled with the beast living inside him. Blood flooded his mouth when he tore into your shoulder, digging deeper than needed to brand you his again just before his pulsing knot squeezed into you and locked into place, stilling his wild rampage and holding you hostage beneath his hulking body. 

You shifted and writhed against him, so obviously overwhelmed by such an archaic, crazed union–your omega must have been going wild, willing you to fight against the monster pouring his seed into you, locking you in place, taking away your autonomy. But a short, rough warning growl settled your inner self the slightest bit and straightened out your thoughts enough for your human pettiness to urge you, too, to sink teeth into flesh and mark up your alpha to complete the re-bonding. 

Good boy. Sukuna's hips rutted against you in light pulses, attempting to jam his knot further into you to ensure you'd take everything he so graciously offered you. But every little move your bodies made together tore more hot strings of cum out of him and into your core. Apparently an eternity of not having you was culminating into this one moment. 

You were the one to let go first. You collapsed onto your back with a loud sigh, and the crushing constriction of your thighs laxed just slightly. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, wholly content and pleased. Your hand wiggled between your bodies and rested on the still-inflating curve that your partner had oh-so loving built out of cum and obsessive dedication. “That's gonna make a mess.” 

Good. Sukuna's chainsaw purr reverberated against your bloodied skin. He chewed into you further and relished in the taste and smell of you, the way it mingled with his own scent of existence and made him feel so irrevocably whole. 

Your fingers laced through his hair as you laughed. “Oi, let go already. Your knot's not gonna go down for like thirty minutes. I'm not going anywhere.” 

Your mate obliged, dislodging his chunky fangs from you and lapping at the wound dutifully until the bleeding staunched. Next, he got to work leaving an array of dark hickies and light bites all over your neck and shoulder, just in case the gnarly bite mark wasn't enough to ward off idiots who thought they had a chance with you. He grumbled at the mere idea of it. 

“So?” You cooed, running your hands up and down his muscled shoulders. “What do we do for half an hour?”

Sukuna scoffed. He tried to pull out just a bit, just to see if he was seriously locked in there, and you spat a vile hiss his way, your nails digging into him at the same time. And, fuck, you were tight–

“Fuck.” He didn't think this through.

-- DRABBLES --

“You're dumb as fuck, you know that?” 

“Ah, such romantic words to hear from my wife.”

“Husband, jackass.” 

Sukuna managed to open his eyes through the pounding of his head. God, he felt like shit. But that probably came with the territory of getting shot point-blank before bailing out of a moving car on the highway. Honestly, he was lucky only one car hit him when he hit the pavement. 

Still, it was bad enough to warrant him a ticket to the hospital. Uraume worked behind the scenes, ensuring their boss got a private room and that the police would stay the fuck away if they knew what was good for them, and it all somehow worked out. Uraume was definitely a sorcerer of sorts.

“Can you save it for home? Fucking hell,” Sukuna groaned, letting his eyes fall shut again. “Too tired to argue.” 

“That's a first,” You huffed, and marched up to his side, sitting down in the cozy seat waiting for you. Your careful touch prodded at his hand gently, as if assessing the damage, guestimating if you could hold his hand without hurting him, but he made the choice for you. He caught your hand weakly, and you held him safe with both of yours. 

“Missed you,” he grumbled, squeezing back lamely. “Have fun on the trip at least?”

“Yeah, until I heard what happened.” You sighed, watery and warbled. “I shouldn't have left. You're too stupid to survive alone.”

Sukuna laughed, then coughed. He felt you tense. “F-Fuck you, little shit. I'm fine.”

“You got shot.”

“Been shot before.”

“Jumped out of a car.”

“I've jumped outta faster.”

“Then got hit by another car.”

“That was a first.”

You sighed to fight back either a sob or ill-placed laughter, or maybe both. “This is so fucking ridiculous. Never make me take a vacation again. I can't be off fucking around in Hawaii when my baby daddy's getting hit like it's GTA.” 

“Christ, I already–” he paused, though, and cracked an eye open to look at you. “What did you…” 

He lost his words when he saw you. Your skin glowed in a way he hadn't had the luxury to see before. Your face looked rounder, too, like you'd put on a little bit of weight since you'd been gone. But your scent–your usual sweet, full-bodied scent of flowery coffee was cranked up to a trillion. If Sukuna's nose wasn't busted, he would've noticed the way it filled up the room, and he might've noticed how his own scent rose to meet it in greeting. Something strange was happening. 

“Oh. Right. Uh…” you cleared your throat and hastily tucked some hair behind your ear. You looked a little bit lost for words too, in all honesty. “I’m pregn–”

Sukuna sat up. You barked at him to lay down, your voice rising a few octaves when something that was probably important dislodged from his wrist as he reached forward when you stood. And you froze when his palm pressed against your stomach–a natural, maternal thing to do. Sukuna remembered when he caught your cat for you when she was trying to dart out the door whilst pregnant, and how she froze dead in her tracks when his hand caught her by her kitten-filled stomach, and let him carry her back inside. 

But this was different. This wasn’t his partner’s cat’s kittens he was feeling, it was yours. His. A shared little nugget doing its best to grow big for its expectant mama–and now expectant papa. 

“How long?” Sukuna rasped. When did his throat get so dry? 

“Two months. Ish.” You rested your hands over his again despite the awkward angle he caught you at. “I didn’t know until last week. I tried to call, but–” You got obliterated and couldn’t answer your phone.

“I get it. Don’t gotta explain.” Sukuna gazed at your stomach a moment longer with droopy, half-lidded eyes before looking up at you as nurses burst into the room. “You’re moving in.”

And for once, you didn’t argue. 

–

“Dude, you guys can't fuck when he's pregnant! You'll crush the baby like a tin can!” 

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth as your tea shot out your nose. You coughed and wheezed, turning away and waving at the brothers in a desperate plea for them to not look and continue their petty argument.

Sukuna, caught between the urge to mock you and kick the shit out of his annoying little fucknut brother, sighed and rubbed his face before handing you his fancy handkerchief he kept tucked in the breast of his jacket for nothing but looks. These days, though, the damn thing had been paying its dues. 

“You think I'm gonna listen to a fuckin’ virgin about this kinda shit?” Sukuna quipped back as he watched you clean up before trying to take a sip of your drink again. 

“Hey, man, I'm just saying. Your dick is like a third leg.” 

You slammed your hand down on the table after spitting a mouthful of tea back into your cup. “Yuuji. Please. Why do you even know that?” 

Yuuji pouted and scooted closer to you under the kotatsu. “Wh--we're brothers! It's not even that weird!” 

“It's weird as shit,” Sukuna offered as he reached out to rub your back. 

“So not weird.” His honeyed eyes locked onto the small affection the older showed you. “Man, so not fair you guys are ganging up on me now that you're, like, a thing,” Yuuji whined and let his arms and chest flop across the table like a petulant child. 

Sukuna smirked. “Jealous?”

You grumbled. “Sukuna. Don't start.”

Yuuji's ears turned bright red. “Jea–what?! No! I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence, not--I don't–”

“N'awe, little pup's tryna cope with losing.” Sukuna grinned wildly when Yuuji's head snapped up, pinning a deadly stare onto the older alpha. “Oh? Finally grow a pair?” 

“Sukuna,” you warned again.

“You better shut it, dude,” Yuuji threatened next, and you knew it was a lost cause; two alpha brothers, both incredibly competitive, both pining for the same omega, spelled disaster. 

Your partner laughed that familiar, ugly laugh–the sort that was too genuine and sounded borderline insane. “Or what? You gonna make me cry–” 

Yuuji launched over the table in an instant, tackling his brother to the ground with a bratty snarl. You watched on, unimpressed, waiting for any signs of their wrestling turning into a serious fight, but it never came. So, you enjoyed it a bit. It wasn't everyday the two idiots played nice. 

You rested your hands on your curved stomach while the two growled and snarled half-heartedly in their dumb attempt to subdue the other. Sukuna could've won in an instant, you both knew that, but he'd let Yuuji think he had a fighting chance for a little bit. It was part of the fun for him, letting his little brother gnaw on him like it'd do anything, letting him try to use his horrible jiu-jitsu skills on his older, bigger brother. It reminded you of–

“Oh,” you peeped when a rowdy kick jostled your hand. It didn't come from the boys, no, it came from the tiny tot inside you. 

The boys froze and stared at you.

“Huh? What's ‘oh'?” Yuuji asked through his panting and straining. Sukuna had him in a headlock, one of his hands giving a brutal noogie to the younger's head. 

“No, just–I think she kicked. Maybe not, I don't–” but your expression brightened with delight when another little throw hit your hand. 

“No shit?” Sukuna grinned, waves of excited alpha scent rolling off of him. He face-shoved Yuuji away before sidling up next to you and pressing his palm against your stomach. You guided his touch to rest over the kicky hotspot, and sure enough–

Thump. Thump.

“Two kicks for your old man, hey?” Sukuna hummed, looking so damn triumphant. 

“Hey, hey, I wanna feel!” Yuuji scrambled over like a nightmare and wiggled up on your other side, pointedly ignoring the snarl Sukuna sent his way. “Come on, it's my niece, chill out.”

Sukuna growled again, but you pulled his hand off to let Yuuji feel the little life making herself known. His eyes, too, lit up when those tiny thwacks battered his palm. 

You looked up at Sukuna dreamily, making the other's ticked expression smooth down into just mildly-annoyed; if your omega wasn't threatened, then he wasn't going to threaten. Sukuna didn't think Yuuji would hurt you, absolutely not, but anyone who came near you, or so much as accidentally bumped into you, pissed Sukuna off, sending his over-protective instincts into overdrive. He always had to rely on you to know when not to react.

“That's so cool!” Yuuji squeaked. “She's seriously in there!” 

“Where the fuck else would she be,” Sukuna grumped.

“Don't ruin his fun, Sukuna.” 

“Yeah, don’t ruin my fun!” 

“Yuuji’s banned from the house.”

“WH–HEY!!”

“Sukuna.”

“Heh.”

“What about gramps, then?” 

Sukuna paused. His heart stopped for a long, long moment. 

“What about him?” He answered, nonchalantly as possible. “Old fuck cut me off years ago.”

“He still cares,” Yuuji offered with a shrug. “And I told him about the pup ‘n everything.”

Sukuna frowned. “Yuuji–”

“You seriously think he doesn't give a shit? Dude, be real, the guy raised us.” 

“That's generous.” 

“Didn't you say you were leaving everything to Yuuji and ‘the old fart’ originally?” You cooed, unhelpful as ever. 

Carmine eyes found yours. “...If he actually wants to meet her–” 

“Awesome, I’ll let him know!” 

“Oi, runt–”

But Yuuji jumped up and pulled his phone out, leaving Sukuna to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into while you laughed at his misery. 

[angrythingstarlight]

All unedited and unbetad. Some fluff. Some smut. Some dark themes.

Mafia!Bucky x Reader: Smutty fic sitting around ~4K

“Come here, Malyshka.” His voice is still soft and deep but laced with such a commanding tone that it makes you falter.

He never asks twice. Until now, until you. He watches your eyes settle on his face, follows the smile spreading across your face. You both know what you made him do, but he wonders if you truly understand what it means, if you know the sheer power you have over him.

Bucky doesn’t beg, his pride has never let him yield to anyone. And yet he’s close to begging, to confess that you can have anything you want if you keep saying his name the way you do.

Mafia!Bucky x Reader:

Bumblebee drabble I

Bee shoves a crayon in her pocket before taking your hand. "It looks like a saby," she explains, like it should be obvious.

"Oh that is very helpful. Thank you so much," you reply, rolling your eyes.

She doesn't pick up on that tinge of sarcasm, instead, she beams and you can't help but grin back at her. "You welcome."

Bumblebee drabble II

"No 'ceptions Papa. I sorry."

Bucky towers over the bear suit wearing toddler, the velvet lined ears flopping over her face. He glares down at her, hands on his hips. "Do you really think you can stop me Bee?"

Just a few hours ago, he intimidated the owner of a nightclub he wanted into signing over his entire business to him. Just his words and reputation had the man cowing.

Bee doesn't flinch.

She tilts her head back and responds with all the confidence only a toddler can possess. She mirrors his stance, little plush covered feet planted firmly on the ground. "Yes I can. I not getting fired 'cause o'you."

Mafia!Ari x Innocent!Wife Reader

->Scene happens before he's sent to prison 👀

The door shakes under his heavy fist. His patience was wearing thin an hour ago when he first tried to coax you out of the ensuite bathroom. All that's holding it together is fraying strands of frustration. The frame rattles again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Almost as loud as your heart slamming against your ribcage.

"Sweetheart." His voice drifts through the only barrier shielding you from him. It's not the quiet tone that bothers you, it's that he's amused, unbothered. He knows something you don't and all of sudden you feel like a lamb that's stumbled into a wolf den.

"You do know that I have a key?"

Mafia!Bucky x Reader, Mafia!Steve x Reader: To Start A War

Bucky seethes, a cold rage settling around his bones, shifting under his skin with every slow inhale. Knuckles blanched around the phone. "No."

No offers. No negotiations. He won't entertain Steve's request. Not when he just got you back. The memories of your kidnapping linger like a bloodstain that won't wash away. Even though you're safe now, his answer is no.

Steve was expecting this. Doesn't matter. Even Bucky has to abide by the Alliance's rules. They all do. It's what keeps the families from going to war.

"You made a deal Barnes. A favor in exchange for my assistance. And I'm calling it in. You have to give me this," Steve hums, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Besides it's only one dinner. What's the worst that could happen Bucky? She'll finally leave you and be with me?"

Mafia!Ransom x Reader: Bumblebee Series

"She doesn't look like a ballerina but I might fuck her. She seems flexible enough to make it for fun for me," Ransom remarks, chin resting on his knuckles as he tosses the candid photo of you in a black leotard, mid stretch across his desk. "So the brat likes her?"

"Yes. According to the—"

"Call the studio and let them know they have a new sponsor," Ransom interrupts with a dismissive shake of his hand. He doesnt glance at Reagan, instead he picks up another picture. Another candid. You at a bakery, staring pensively out the large window. His investigator is making up for the Barnes failure. "And I want her schedule by tomorrow."

[star-sim]

"cheater!" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen hyungs x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time you mentioned another guy's name, and he gets jealous (and he's dumb). ☆ genre: fluff, humor, dumb dumb boys, very minor angst/hurt/comfort in jay's part, cross between short scenarios and bullet points ☆ warning(s)? mentions of cheating obv, misunderstandings, ☆ not edited lolz also if ur @/archlstarvlle get off my dick again and stop plagiarizing me (and other authors bruh)

heeseung ☆

poor guy

you and him were going to a party later

and you were planning on putting ribbons in your hair

except you didn't have ribbons!

time to go to your nearest craft store: michael's.

"Baaaabe," you whined, prying Heeseung's grabby hands away from you. "I need to go."

Heeseung kept his arms wrapped around you, pressing his cheeks into your back. He threw his leg around yours, pulling you ever closer to him.

"Nooooo," he drawled, and you could feel his lips forming a little pout. You were just so warm and soft and comfortable. "Stay."

You chuckled at his childishness. You needed to go buy ribbons for later, since you ran out of them.

"Baby," you pecked his forehead, trying to shake yourself free of your clingy boyfriend. "I need to go to Michael's."

You felt Heeseung's body go frigid for a moment, before his arms loosened altogether around you, allowing you to escape his grip.

When you pulled away, while you continued to happily chirp about whatever was on your mind to your boyfriend, your words fell upon deaf ears.

Heeseung pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it pensively.

heeseung was actually going insane

WHO IS MICHAEL??? AND WHY ARE YOU GOING TO HIM??

heeseung swears he's never heard you talk of someone named michael, let alone a friend named michael

how could you drop the name of some OTHER MAN so casually???

and the nail in the coffin was what you said next

"Michael's has some pretty cool things," you chatted, your back turned to your boyfriend as you fixed your lip gloss. "So, let me know if you need anything from there.

michael... cool... things....

if heeseung wasn't already fighting for his life, he was now fighting a million wars at once.

you told heeseung that he was cool and handsome and cute and all the words in the dictionary all the time.... and you made sure to let him know that your words were exclusive to him

so for you to say that SOME RANDOM DUDE NAMED MICHAEL WAS COOL?????

"I don't think you've ever been to Michael's, so I think—"

Heeseung abruptly stood up from the bed that he was lying in, in such a sudden and dramatic way that you snapped your head over to him, as he was quite loud with it.

There your tall boyfriend stood, completely still, with a deep frown on his face.

"Babe, are you okay—"

"I'm going with you," Heeseung announced, his voice filled with such a passion and vigor that it nearly shook. He looked so indignant and solemn, you almost felt worried. With finger air-quotes, he said with a subtle eye-roll, "I will go with you to this 'Michaels.' "

You blinked at him obliviously, before a smile grew on your face. You didn't know that Heeseung was so curious about the local craft store called Michael's, but you were not going to question it.

"Okay!"

heeseung was just WAITING

he let you take the wheel and while he sat in your passenger's seat he was rubbing his knuckles, WAITING TO THROW A FIST AT THIS MICHAEL GUY

would a black eye suffice? or maybe a broken nose....

he glanced over at you

you were just humming to yourself to the music (you let heeseung take the aux)

sure you looked so cute and innocent right now... BUT HOW??? HOW COULD YOU BE SO CASUAL ABT IT???

heeseung was expecting for you to pull up to a neighborhood, or an apartment complex, ready to feel his entire world crash down before his feet as some guy named michael emerged from the doorway

his heart plummeted at the thought of this 'michael' pulling you in for a hug, with you greeting him back brightly

no!!!! he couldn't let michael win!!!

you were his!!

.

.

.

except, you simply pulled up to a parking lot

to a massive store, with white walls and a giant brown sign

reading

michael's craft store

Heeseung flopped over in relief.

"Hee...!"

jay ☆

i think at this point in time you and jay aren't DATING dating, but definitely an exclusive pair that's BASICALLY dating

all your friends know about him and you report to them daily about him (theyre tired)

except

before you and jay became an actual pair

you used to call him a code name with your friends

the code name in question?

hamilton

named after your friend's hamilton beach flexcut cordless can opener, aka the first thing that you saw when you were coming up with a code name

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

Today, you and Jay decided to have a study session in the library. Although you knew that he'd be true to his word and would actually help you study, you hoped that the two of you could do something more.

Maybe he'd put his hand on your thigh, or maybe you'd have the opportunity to cut him off with a kiss. Just the thought made your stomach do flips.

As you waited at the library table, with your heart in your hands, your phone rang. It was your friends. Noticing the dirty looks for such an obnoxious ringtone, you stepped out the library to take the call.

meanwhile jay was pretty much shaking with each step he took to the campus library

an entire two hours with you? you, who needed his help really badly? you, who he wanted to kiss so badly? yes please!!!

boy was he excited

but as he rounded the corner to the library.............

he spotted you..... on the phone with someone.....

"Hamilton is so handsome!" he heard you squeal into your phone, and Jay's heart stopped. "I hope Hamilton comes soon, so that I can kiss him."

ham...il...ton

who is that....

jay knew that you and him weren't officially dating but he didn't expect you to do him dirty like that :(

as you continuted to giggle and coo about this hamilton guy, jay couldn't help but feel his heart ache

he really thought you were the one :(

except he was so caught up in his thoughts that jay tripped over his feet, making you whip your head around to him

Your expression was horrified, which only only confirmed his worst fears. Still, you stepped toward him, your face painted with embarrassment.

"Oh, hi Jay," you said bashfully, unable to meet his gaze.

Jay, even when he was hurt, didn't have it in him to be rude to you. He wanted to run away (and cry), but the way you gave him a small, sheepish grin made his heart flutter.

He planned to sit through this session, and excuse himself after 30 minutes. Keep the relationship civil, he thought.

on your end

you were mortified!!!

did jay just hear you talk about him to your friends?

although you had a code name for him, it wasn't like what you said was completely discreet

you dropped pretty obvious context clues that pointed to who hamilton was

things like "i love hamilton's heart-shaped birthmark on his neck, do you think he'll let me touch it?" and "i hope hamilton takes me out on a date after today's study session"

you were embarrassed

and it didn't help that jay was being quieter than usual... did he think you were weird?

but to jay, that embarrassment translated as the shame of being caught

the entire study session thus far, you didn't even meet his gaze, always looking away

Jay was hurt. Really hurt.

By the way you were acting, he was hoping for an apology, or some quick explanation, even if it was short and half-assed. At least you could've tried. But you said nothing.

Jay himself had questions that he wanted to be answered: how long has this been going on, if you were lying when you told him that you loved him, etc.

His lips moved faster than his mind could catch.

"So, who's Hamilton?" he blurted.

shit shit shit

he KNOWS RIGHT?

HE KNOWS THAT HE'S HAMILTON

RIGHT???????

you felt your neck and cheeks heating up

and by the way he looked solemn, you were sure he was mad at you

You froze, before all of your words spilled out of your mouth.

"Oh my god, Jay, I'm so sorry. You must be feeling so creeped out and disgusted with me and—"

from your body language to the panic in your expression

jay thought that his suspicions were confirmed

the moment that you began speaking he was ready to break down sobbing

but your next words made him stop

"— And I know that you think I'm weird for using a code name as stupid as 'Hamilton' for you, and I'm so sorry for that, but—"

wait a minute............

code name

hamilton

for him

.

.

.

"Wait, I'm Hamilton?!" Jay cut you off, his face pinching.

You let out a weird sound, an awkward expression spreading across your features.

"I-I mean, yeah..." you hid your face in your hands, "Ughhhh, I'm so sorry, that's so weir— Jay?!"

Jay was slumped over the table in relief, his face buried in his arms. He let out a loud groan, before lifting his head to look up at you. You couldn't help but notice the little glassy sheen in his eyes, almost like he was going to cry.

"Jay..."

He quickly wiped the little tears forming in his eyes away, sniffling before sitting up completely, averting his gaze from you.

"It's nothing," he murmured.

He was relieved. No, beyond relieved. He was ecstatic that this entire time you were talking about him. He couldn't believe that he would think of you in such a poor light.

He kept his eyes away from you, too shy and embarrassed to look you in the eye.

You poked him, and he didn't respond, so you poked him again.

"Jay."

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm weird?"

He snapped his head over to you.

"What? No, of course not!"

You frowned. "Then why aren't you talking to me?"

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "It's nothing."

He finally met your gaze, his lips helplessly cracking into a grin just as the sight of you perplexed expression.

He clutched your chin, tilting it so that you would look at him. He leaned in to give your lips a peck.

"I promise, it's nothing, Baby."

You leaned into him, giving him a peck, too.

"Okay," you nodded, biting back the giddy, lovesick grin that fought its way onto your face.

jake ☆

one day youre hanging out w your friends

and ygs go to a dog cafe

so cute!!

and theres this one dog that's just practically CALLING FOR YOU

he's just this little maltese named enzo and he's so cute

the two of you cuddling on the floor, giving him good head rubs and laughing as he licks you

you love enzo the maltese!

anyways so you take pictures ofc and post it to your private instagram

Jake narrowed his eyes at his phone.

He was deep.

Deep in the goddamn trenches.

He was excited to see the cute pictures you took of your day out with your friends. When you said that you were going to a dog cafe, Jake was so ready to use a picture of you and a pup (two of his favorite things) as his new phone wallpaper.

But that wasn't going to happen.

Because all of a sudden, his Wi-Fi decided to be poor all of a sudden.

Although he got the notification that you posted something new on Instagram, when he checked your account, none of you pictures loaded. All he could see was a black loading square, and the caption to the post.

at first jake was like

"its ok i can wait" even though he REALLLLYYY wanted to see your pictures

he couldn't see any of the pictures you posted, but he could still see the caption

and that's what caught his eye

you liked to have an individual explanation for each picture in the post, so your caption read as follows:

pic 1: me and enzo

pic 2: enzo kissing me

pic 3: holding enzo's hand

pic 4: enzo and me cuddling

and that's when jake stopped reading

Jake was going to start losing hair, because who was Enzo? And why was he kissing you? And cuddling with you?

He'd never heard of an Enzo. Poor guy, Jake kept refreshing your account in the hopes that your pictures would load, so that he could see this Enzo guy face-to-face. But that didn't happen.

It didn't help that your Instagram notes read, "enzo &lt;3."

seriously

WHO IS ENZO

jake paced back and forth around his apartment, trying to scroll back in his memory for anyone named enzo

but alas

no one

all he knew was that whoever enzo was, he was about to get a broken jaw

a little frown formed on his face, as he rubbed his knuckles

were you going to leave him from this enzo person?

was enzo better than him?

how come jake never heard of an enzo before?

Jake's head perked up the moment his apartment door cracked open, revealing you. He rushed straight to you, expecting to hear you say, "I'm breaking up with you for another man named Enzo," completely taken aback when you simply threw your arms around him.

"Hi, Jakey!" you simply exclaimed, holding him tight.

Jake stood still, eyeing you for a moment.

Were you not going to break up with him on the spot?

The next thing he knew, Jake was pulled into his room, thrown on his bed, and cuddled up against you.

"I'm so tired," you breathe, snuggling your face against his chest. "I couldn't wait to get home to you."

Jake blinked.

"T-Tell me about your day," he gulped.

and you happily did so

animately, you told all about your day

what foods you tried, what you and your friends did, how much fun you had

you even told him about a cute little maltese that you couldn't remember the name of at the dog cafe...

and at last

no mention of enzo

"How's Enzo?"

Jake didn't know why he asked that, but when he did, you perked up.

"Oh!" you clapped your hands. "That's his name!"

"Wh-Who's name?"

You laughed. "The maltese at the dog cafe! His name was Enzo— He was just the cutest little thing!"

Enzo is a... dog?

Jake suddenly hoisted the two of you up, so that you were laying flat on your back. He plopped his face onto your chest, putting your hand in his hair.

"I don't like Enzo," Jake murmured against your chest. You chuckled, playing with his hair slowly.

"You didn't like the pictures of me and Enzo?"

"No," Jake shook his head, his hair cutely bouncing with each movement. "I don't like a dog trying to take my girl."

You laughed, calling your boyfriend silly, but completely oblivious to the fact that Jake was now making plans to go to that dog cafe to have a man-to-man talk with a dog.

sunghoon ☆

a man of a few words, gotta love it

this is very niche but you have a habit of making very obscure and dumb and completely nonsensical nicknames for people

like jake becomes jacobsongerald and jay becomes jameslynner the third

one day you and sunghoon are just having a lazy day

It's a quiet morning. Slivers of sunlight are peeking from the kitchen blinds, while birds chirp their hearts out outside.

While you look through the fridge, Sunghoon sits at the kitchen table, notepad and pen in hand.

"Do we need eggs?" he asked.

You glanced down at the egg compartment. "No, but I think we're running out of butter soon."

Sunghoon nodded, jotting down 'butter' on the notepad.

Every week or so, you and Sunghoon liked to have a morning like this, where you went over your grocery list.

sunghoon loved mornings like this

seeing you in your cute pajamas, your raspy morning voice bouncing off the walls as you listed to him what the two of you needed to buy for the week

the way the sunlight bounced off of you just made you look so ethereal, in your early morning glory

"Sungerson, can you write down milk?"

Sunghoon's face contorted immediately.

pardon....

WHO???

sunghoon couldn't tell if he was appalled because you just called him the WRONG NAME or because 'sungerson' is actually such a ridiculous name

WHO IS SUNGERSON THAT'S SO STUPID OMG

wait a minute....

sunghoon's heard horror stories like this before

where if your significant other accidentally calls you by another name, it's a sign that they're seeing someone else

"Oh, and can you add canola oil to the list?" you asked, not really checking to see if he was writing it down due to your trust in him. But when you didn't hear any pen scribbles, you turned over your shoulder. "Sunghoon?"

see?

you called him sunghoon just then

and this entire morning you'd called him sunghoon

but then you call him a different name out of no where and act like nothing happened

you weren't seeing someone else... right?

like...... you wouldn't do that to him

the way you acted like nothing happened made sunghoon think that you probably didn't notice your slip-up

"Sungerson?"

You looked confused, your brows furrowing. "What?"

Sunghoon looked up to meet your gaze. "You called me Sungerson. Who is that?"

"Oh." You shrugged. "It's just one of those dumb nicknames that I make up for people."

"Okay."

that made sense

completely

he shouldn't have doubted you

"Sunghoon, what are you pouting about?"

okay, so maybe the thought of you with someone else made him upset

even if you weren't

and reassured him that you weren't

You huffed, shutting the fridge door before coming over to wear Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. You grabbed his head, leaning down to give his forehead a kiss.

Sunghoon whined, taking your arm as you pulled away from him. He leaned back in his seat, patting his lap for you to sit. When you did, Sunghoon immediately pushed his face into the crook of your neck, whining again.

"What is it, you big baby?"

"You're mine, right?"

You blinked. It wasn't every day that Sunghoon was clingy like this.

You chuckled, flicking his forehead.

"Of course," you said.

"Okay," Sunghoon let his eyelids fall shut, taking a deep breath before sinking into your warmth. "That's good."

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

from the flames | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — to signify the newly recognised alliance between the sky people and the grounders, a celebration is held within polis’ market square. a bonfire, alcohol, and the bawdy pulsation of drums is a sure-fire recipe for a stimulating night. add a watchful bellamy blake and his dancing muse into the mix, and, well… i’ll show you the consequences of such a potent combination.

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: i haven’t recently been watching the 100 so the timeline and characterisation may be a little off. also, ik this took me a long ass time, but i’m gonna try and make sure the next two parts come out a little quicker <3 i love y’all!

word count: 2.5k

“People of Kongeda and Skaikru, tonight we gather as one, united by a common purpose and a shared future of alliance. Before us, this bonfire symbolises more than just a flame; it is a beacon of hope, an opportunity to cleanse old grudges and pain that has divided us for far too long.

“Let this fire signify a new beginning and serve as a reminder that unity is not our weakness, but our strength. Let it be known that from this day, we join not as enemies, but as allies, and anyone set upon spilling the blood of our allies is spilling the blood of us all. Let it be known: Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

As much as Lexa’s words intended to inspire harmony, the crowd massed below the second-floor balcony of the dominating tower she resided on reacted in any way but. Fierce declarations of worship were cried out; large fists were pumped in celebration; and misty clouds of brew and saliva were sprayed into the tepid night air.

All was well, for the first time since we landed on Earth.

“Happy Unity Day,” I murmured to myself, taking a sip from the metal cup in my hand. I was standing on the outer edges of the unruly crowd of dark, rugged figures, who were surrounding an unlit wooden mountain and raving as it abruptly burst into vociferous flames.

The monstrous tepee of sticks was raging at the centre of Polis’ trading square, an open area bordered with stalls and operating food vendors that infused the air with a salivating meaty aroma. Glimmers of light chipped away into the familiar starry night above and an orange ambience was cast throughout the square, seeming to blaze beneath the skin of those who orbited the fire.

It was a somewhat perplexing scene: to be together as one people, celebratingratherthan being at war with one another.

A pensive mechanic stepped in beside me, eyeing the mixed crowd of Grounders and Sky People.

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think the fact that the Ark originally had thirteen stations and the coalition now has thirteen clans is kind of…”

“Unsettling?” I finished for her. “Yeah. Probably best not tell these guys the story of how Polaris got blown out of the sky. Don’t want to give them any ideas.”

“Polaris… Polis…” she continued contemplating. “Think there’s anything equally unsettling about that?”

I looked at Raven. She looked back at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath—“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation”—and tipped the harsh contents of my cup down my throat. The liquid was molten in both its ferocity and colour and was infused with some potent earthly spice; it was a blow to the stomach upon consumption.

“Is that such a good idea?” Raven asked, judging me as my head craned back to capture the last few drops of throat-scorching goodness. “I’m all for pouring a glass when the occasion calls for it, but these people have stomachs lined with steel—what do you think yours is made of?”

I grimaced at the taste. “You tell me. You’re the genius.”

The roll of her eyes was deafening. “I’m just saying, they’ve probably spent decades perfecting their drinks to suit them, to match their tolerances. I mean, even that human fountain over there couldn’t handle it.” She nodded towards a cluster of barrels where a titan of a man wearing armoured shoulder pads and breastplates was hunched over, violently emptying his stomach onto the cobbled ground.

I swallowed my own stomach at the sight.

“I just assumed you wanted to spend the night somewhat differently,” she said, a sweet undertone of provocation twisting her words.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her lips twitched at the corners—never a good sign.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she meant. Her unspoken words had already been circling my mind for days, weeks, months even, increasingly accumulating with both heat and fervour.

As ironic as it was, I think it’s fitting to compare my situation to that of a star’s formation.

There I was, a delinquent sitting stagnant in a cold nebula of misery in the Sky Box, parted from my family and friends, sent hurtling to Earth to die, only then to have my cold, miserable cloud intruded upon by a fiery presence, a head of tousled brown waves and a pair of rich, dark chocolate eyes.

An awakener. An activator.

This intruder began filling my head with his words, his laughter, his brooding stare. The weight of his presence began to grow; thoughts of him consumed me. From the most surprisingly vulnerable conversations to even the tensest arguments, he had a heat inside me swirling and it was sweltering to unfathomable heights. It showed no signs of stopping.

Raven’s malevolent brown eyes were pointing plainly at something far behind me as if to answer my question. I knew what I would see even before turning around to look, but moronic as I was, I looked anyway.

Chin hovering over my shoulder, my eyes wandered through the scattered crowd of Grounders and Sky People alike that loitered the bonfire’s outskirts. There, sandwiched between Lincoln and an unoccupied trading stall, was a face that not only had my stomach contents lodged in my throat, but my heart as well.

Bellamy.

He was standing with his arms crossed, each one concealed beneath his distressed guard jacket. And although his stance screamed ‘Don’t talk to me,’ his face said otherwise. He and Lincoln were engaged in some high-spirited conversation, much unlike themselves (although the supply of drinks may have been to blame). Bellamy was speaking through one of his overconfident half-grins while alternating between gesturing to-and-fro with a single hand and tucking it back under his opposing bicep.

My chest was burning; the bonfire somehow must’ve seeped into my heart.

It should be stated here that when a nebula accumulates enough particles, it turns into a protostar—not a main sequence star like our sun, but something that holds the potential to be. At this point, the formation is at its most precarious. If a sufficient amount of mass is not acquired, the protostar will fail to stabilise and will cool into a brown dwarf, forever existing in the cold, lonely expansion of space as a reminder of what it could have been.

Bellamy’s head gravitated in my direction. Our eyes met through the asteroid belt of rugged figures between us. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned back around.

A reminder of what it could have been.

Sometimes I worry my insufficiency has damned me already.

“Oh, my god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my god, Raven, why would you put me through that?”

“In the hopes that you’ll finally grow a pair and do something about it,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink to conceal her smirk.

“About what?” Now I was just being evasive.

She let out a frustrated huff and folded her arms over one another. Her countenance was a reflection of impatience: the raised eyebrows, the slight downward tilt of her head, the pursed lips. I almost laughed at her theatricality; then again, I almost cried because I didn’t want the reason behind it to be true.

I wanted Bellamy Blake.

The confession was boiling inside me; it was burning the tip of my tongue, and I knew I had to let it out to cool. And if the words were never spoken to him, then they at least had to be expressed to someone else, even if I never admitted them in the exactness I felt, for the exact words would be so heinous, so—hedonistic, that if anyone were to hear them, I’d be thrown into lock-up for the rest of my days.

“Fine, I guess I’m… attracted to Bellamy,” I spoke slowly, cringing at my own words. Raven’s face immediately lit up like an overzealous Christmas tree, her smugly curved lips parting to no doubt release an incongruous stew of condemnation and encouragement, which I stopped before it could even start. “Anattraction that I am not going to act on, Raven; our friendship is rocky enough as it is. I mean,” I scoffed, “have I even told how we first met? I held a pocketknife to his neck our second night on the ground because he threatened to pry off my wristband in my sleep. And he actually tried! You know that tiny scar he has on his cheek? That was from me!”

“Yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a self-righteous dick he was for a while there,” Raven mused. Her face then screwed with confusion. “Wait, how did you two even become friends? Because when I came down, you were at each other’s throats every single day over one thing or another, and then out of nowhere, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.”

Ah.

The day the slate had been wiped clean.

A thick blurriness blanketed my vision as my mind withdrew from the present. You know when you get run down with some kind of sickness and your mind gets all scrambled and foggy? Like a fever dream? That’s what that day seemed like to me. Too many unimaginable things had happened, too many emotions and losses were felt, and I’d only shared them with one person before.

“You still there?”

My gaze flickered to Raven momentarily. She was staring at me, half with impatience, half with concern. “Just—” I raised my hand slightly in front of me “—give me a second.”

I inhaled. One, two, three. And I exhaled. Three, two, one.

A vulnerable creature of some sort nestled in my brain, softening the tone of my voice as I hesitantly began, “It was the, uh, the day the Exodus Ship crashed. My dad was on it,” I said, my last words barely audible. “Knowing that he was gone was one thing, but watching the ship crash? That messed me up for a good while.”

Raven, taken aback, muttered her apologies. I just shook my head in return. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memory into the cobwebbed corners of my mind, and then continued, “Bellamy had found me in the woods that night. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. I think that seeing me in such a vulnerable state forced him to set aside his asshole-ry for a while because he actually managed to… comfort me.”

I remembered the tone of his voice, so shockingly gentle yet hardened in his trademarked sort of way as he reassured me endlessly that I would be okay. I remembered the warmth of his body as I lay crumpled and sobbing in his lap on the forest floor, clinging onto his arm as if it kept me from plummeting into a bottomless pit. I remembered his hands, swiping away the thousands of tears that streaked my face, the hair from my eyes.

I remembered our brief conversation as we walked back to camp: “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he had said, to which I whispered, “Thank you,” and after a short pause, he spoke again, “We all need someone sometimes. I know we don’t have the best history together but… I can be that someone if you ever need,” and then, once more, with an unwelcome flutter in my stomach, I whispered, “Thank you.”

A small, bittersweet smile lifted my lips. My voice sounded distant to my ears as I continued speaking. “We still nicked at each other here and there after that—that tension between us has never really disappeared—but there was also this new mutual understanding. And somewhere from mutual understanding came a rough-around-the-edges friendship, and then friendship turned into something else.” I paused to recollect my thoughts. “Well, for me, at least.”

Between the moment I started speaking to the moment I stopped, my gaze had wandered sheepishly to the toes of my boots. I felt so exposed, like the outer layers of my being had been cracked open to reveal a part of my soul to a girl I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago. Suddenly I remembered why I didn’t drink often.

I stood awkwardly, waiting. The weight of my confession and vulnerability were looming above us.

Raven was quiet; she made no witty remark or tease. Her eyes had only softened with understanding, shifting back and forth as my words were mulled over in her brain. And it was only from her foreign silence that I realised what her next question could be: why don’t you just tell him?

I began, “I don’t want to ruin—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she finally interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss my unspoken sentiment. “The age-old ‘I don’t want to ruin what we have right now’. But what exactly is that?” Her eyes once again interrogated mine. “Because I’ll make it clear to you right now and say that what you two have is not just friendship. Come on. You and Bellamy?” She shifted her head to catch my drifting gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see something is there, but clearly, neither of you have a pair.”

Talk about tough love.

A harsh outflow of air exited my nose, and I pushed my hair back out of my face. Everything was much more complicated than I thought it was. Was I really as blind as Raven said? I would have already seen what she does if it were true, right? Did Bellamy really feel the same?

Am I drunk?

I glanced behind me once more, catching a glimpse of Bellamy tilting his head back to finish his drink, exposing the sculptured column of his neck. Heat flushed through my cheeks.

Christ. I couldn’t let this one go. There wasn’t a chance.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, still watching him.

An uproar of hoots and howls exploded throughout the square as the sound of drums and horns began to play, bringing my attention to the second-floor balcony of the Commander’s Tower where the noise floated down from. Drums pulsed with bawdy rhythm; horns bellowed with lewd backbone; a woman purred tribal vocalisations.

Bodies began swaying in disharmonious synchronisation around the bonfire, in pairs, in groups, individually. What tethered them was the raunchiness of their movements and the subtle carnality of their interactions with one another. I’d never seen anything like it; as I looked over at Raven and saw her similar intrigue, I knew she hadn’t either.

That was my mistake—to even acknowledge her in such a moment, especially after speaking about our previous topic. Her lips began stretching and stretching into a particularly wicked grin, and she turned to me. The devil was burning in her dark eyes.

Her answer to my question: “Give his eyes something to look at.”

part two

[howi99]

The "King" of Teachers 1

(a crack fic)

Yang: I heard we are getting a new Prof for Grimm studies.

Ruby: *curious* What happened to professor Port?

Yang: *shrug* Maybe he took his retreat?

_ meanwhile _

Port: *beating up a bunch of grimm with his fist, reaping and tearing until it's done* AHAHAHAH!! I FEEL ALIVE!!!

_ _ _

Weiss: *pensive* He was kinda old...

Jaune: *sweating profusely* Please be my dad, please be my dad-

Pyrrha: *worried* Jaune? What's wrong?

Jaune: *panicking* The new professor is one of my parents and i don't know which- *feeling a sense of dread overwhelming him* ... *Gulp* H-hi mom...

Everyone: *look at the woman who "appeared" next to Jaune* !?!

Mama Arc: *sigh* I see, this is how low this school has fallen. *Looking down at her son* Not even noticing my presence until you pointed it out. *Shake her head, a look of contempt adorning her face* Truly, how deplorable.

Weiss: *frown* Now lis- *register who is in front of her* -ten... *Blink, look at Jaune then at the woman then back at Jaune* D-did you say mom?

Jaune: *slowly nodding his head, trying to make himself as small as possible* Y-yes?

Weiss: *blink again* But that's-

Mama Arc: *glaring at Weiss* Have i given you the permission to talk?

Weiss: *sitting back down, looking straight towards the blackboard* S-sorry!

Mama Arc: ... Good.

*pick up Jaune in her arm*

*walk towards the blackboard, Jaune still in her arms*

*sit on her chair, Jaune now sitting on her lap*

Artoria: *in a booming voice* I AM THE KING OF STORMS, LEADER OF THE KNIGHT OF THE ROUND TABLE. MY NAME IS ARTORIA PENDRAGON AND HE *hug Jaune with a gentle smile* Is my pride and joy~!

Jaune: *Hiding his face in pure embarrassment* This is the end, my punishment...!

Yang: ... *Whispering to Weiss* She's kinda intense.... *Frown, looking at Blake* Blak-

Blake: *Blushing madly* Sh-she's so h-hot~

Ruby: Knight of the round table? Who's that?

Weiss: *nervously* They are Vale's best huntsmen and huntresses.

Artoria: *glaring towards team RWBY's group* I don't remember giving you the permission to talk, did i?

Team RWBY: *stop talking, all scared for their-*

Jaune: *stammering his words* M-mom, S-stop being mean to m-my friends!

Artoria: ... *Beaming hugging her son even more* Of course darling~! But i still need them to listen if they don't want to end up *censored for brutal depictions of death* or *censored for even worse depiction of death* during missions!

Everyone: *completely horrified*

Cardin: *vomiting in the trash can*

Weiss: *consoling a crying Ruby* There there...

Nora: *confused by everyone's reaction* ... I mean, that's pretty standard stuff on the field, right Ren?

Ren: *also not understanding everyone's shock* That's not even as bad as what we lived through.

Nora: Right? *Turning to Pyrrha* What about- *sees the invincible girl on the ground, having lost consciousness* ... oh.