#that aside CAN YOU SEE WHAT I WANT WITH THESE TWO.. These two are opposites that loathe eachother (onesided mainly) and its MMMMM

[yan-randomfandom]

How would yandere saja boys react to reader being a child of Gwi ma, but is nothing like him as in they want to help people?

Saja Boys x Demon!GN!Reader

a/n; i keep missing in my fics, i keep forgetting the plot!! so sorry anon,, i don't know what i'm trying to do in this one (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠) but i do love the new scenario!! tho sadly this isn't obviously yandere,,

— 👑

"Dying king with a crumbling crown," you hum, a teasing smile stretching across your feline lips. "Will he let the fire go out?"

Jinu sighs, absentmindedly plucking his strings. "As much as I love seeing two tigers, I think it'd be best if you take another form. It's creepy watching you talk with its teeth."

With a chuckle, you shapeshift into his bird instead, licks of fire dying as soon as it appeared. You made sure to keep the tiny hat on. "Yeah, sure, okay. Hey, that was a pretty bold move to your king. Y'know, my creator."

One of his demon companions snort. You snap your eyes toward the one with abs. "That's Jinu for you. Knows what he wants, knows what Gwi-Ma wants. As it's always been."

Jinu doesn't react, he doesn't reply—yet, you and the rest of the Saja Boys could tell he's deeply uncomfortable. He continues his focus on his bipa.

Baby coughs. "Look, I'll do the rapping, yeah?"

"I already said that—"

... After a while, you stare blankly as they get lost in their planning. Listening to every word. Paying attention to their movements. You can barely contain the frown itching to crawl on your—oh, wait. You have a beak.

"Master," Mystery suddenly calls, poking a finger on your wing.

You make an expression with your beady eyes. "Do not call me that. What is it, Mystery?"

His lips curl. "Why are you here?"

All your six eyes blink. The rest seem to be intrigued for your answer.

Of course, you're here to disrupt their plans. You don't say that out loud. Always so grateful that you and Gwi-Ma have cut connection, so even he can't hear your spirits.

"I believe I don't need to answer you," you shrug, earning some looks. You flatter your wings and stand on Mystery's shoulder instead. His smile grows. "Just keep doing your magic."

— 🐦‍⬛

You wonder what the Huntrix girls are doing right now.

Probably better than... whatever this is.

"Gwi-Ma is going to be so disappointed in us."

"What? No! The opposite! He'd be so impressed, we'll never have to be punished—"

"Master's waiting for us to move already."

Gwi-Ma this. Gwi-Ma that. Even if you're the literal spawn of the guy, it's still such a bummer with him being the only topic in this damn world. Well, aside from famine and destruction of your kind. Okay. Enough of this. You have to check on the girls.

Jumping off of Mystery's shoulder, you shift into your true form, pink fire dancing in your silhouette.

You thought you could quietly leave but—

"Where are you going?" comes Jinu's voice, inquisitive. Suspicious, almost.

Romance cast you a look. "You haven't even seen our rehearsal yet! Or, maybe, you'd like to see it live—"

You flow your fire to Romance's side, patting his head in reassurance. "I'll be there."

Maybe that's good enough to be convincing. Then, you leave.

— 🔥

In one of the farthest seat of the stadium, you sit and watch as the Huntrix practice for their performance. Put simply, they're amazing. You always did prefer acapella from the girls.

You've taken a human form, hopefully that will be enough for them to lay off if they spot you. Act like one of the staff who's slacking or whatever.

"So this is where you are," a familar deep voice mutters, and you immediately shoot up a hand to their face. A face that's come from a half-body in the seat next to you, the Honmoon tear strong in your senses.

Between your startled glare and fingers, Baby smiles in curiousity as his eyes glow. "I'm a little hurt. Didn't know you prefer the hunters."

You relax. Okay, cool. He found you spying on Huntrix. "No one will believe you."

A cough. You follow the noise on the floor and find three out of four other Saja Boys. Abby, Romance, and Mystery stares at you with something in their expressions—completely unreadable.

"Does Gwi-Ma know you're—"

Hmm. Darn. You interrupt whoever spoke. "Why are you all here? Did you come to look for me?"

You turn, seeing Baby's immense stare on you. But he doesn't answer. None of them do.

... Weirdos.

"Where's Jinu?"

Baby pauses, then points at the other side of the area.

You follow his direction and Jinu barely meets your eyes.

A frown makes its way to your lips. This human... This human is a wonder. You have Gwi-Ma's memories—while the others are fairly content with their sins, you know Jinu's so much more complicated than that.

Honestly. He'll know about Rumi's patterns in one way or another.

Someone pokes your cheek.

You sigh. "Mystery, stop doing that."

"Ah, no, I'm Abby. You're acting weird."

You? Acting weird? Haven't you always been? You look down on your patterns. An intricate design and color unlike the others.

The weight of your memories — not even yours, really — rumbles in the pit of your core. You don't like what you are, or where you are, or who you are. But, at the same time, you care so much. It's hard to think.

"I'm not answering that," you say eventually, using your higher position whenever convenient.

—

errmm my bad, also im trying to combine asks as I go ... hrrmmm eeemm hmmmm it's not working well

i tried to go with demon reader (anon1) and reader who hates the saja boys but loves huntrix (anon2) but for this one—they just really don't like what they stand for

[cherrygirlfriend]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT? ✮

✮ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

✮ summary: agreeing to go to a party with you and meeting your friends for the first time causes rafe to have insecurities and doubts.

✮ warnings / tags: angst. fluff. hurt and comfort. punching someone. insecurity. nudity. them being ridiculously perfect for each other. wc: 2k

✮ author's note: what’s been up with me making these two suffer lately… tbh i just wanna deepen their emotional bond!! but dw i have freaky smut coming up for them soon!!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ✮ 5K MASTERLIST

people say that opposites attract, and that saying was a fact when it came to you and your boyfriend. you and rafe were like day and night; all the bouncers at all the clubs and bars within a five-mile radius of your university campus knew you by name, meanwhile every professor on campus knew your boyfriend by his name, all of them delighted whenever they found out they got to teach him. sometimes, a single outfit of yours had less fabric than one piece of rafe's outfit. rafe did more studying in one weekend than you did in a month. he was a virgin when you started dating, and you were... experienced.

and your boyfriend was definitely not a party animal.

"c'mon..." you coaxed, "i can't go alone. besides, i want you to meet my friends!" you whined, "your friends are gonna hate me." rafe deadpanned, his brows raised. "no they won't. so what if you're different from them? i'm sure you can find something to talk to them about." "like what? shoes and purses?" "like how much you adore me." your lips quirked up into a grin and you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, "pleaaase?"

honestly, rafe's assumption wasn't that far from the truth; when you'd first told your friends that you were dating him, they all looked at you like you'd grown a second head. but it never mattered to you; you adores rafe, and even though you two sometimes got strange looks from people and your friends got weird whenever you mentioned him, it never bothered you.

"pleaseeee?" you stuck out your bottom lip, doing your best to put on a 'sad puppy dog' look. "fine." rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face, "only because you're cute."

"this is gonna earn you a reward..." you giggled, biting down on your lower lip and running your manicured finger down rafe's chest, the suggestive tone of your voice and the feel of your long nail against his muscles through his shirt causing his own voice to go hoarse, "i didn't... didn't even ask for that." "don't care." you give rafe a quick peck, "good boys get rewarded."

you'd told rafe that it'd take you around an hour to get ready, but the two of you had finally gotten to the frat house nearly three hours after you'd told rafe it'd take you an hour, but you'd just mumbled, "fashionably late..." into his ear.

but once you got to the frat house the party was being held at, you got past with ease... but the random dude at the fraternity door who acted as the bouncer looked at your boyfriend up and down and let out a disgusted 'eugh', making rafe look down at the ground, his cheeks starting to redden as he switched from one foot to the other, the other boy letting out a belittling chuckle, "sorry, but you're gonna have to ditch him."

you could see your boyfriend's face fall and him starting to step back, only for you to pull rafe back to you and looking at the boy standing at the door with the bitchiest smile you could muster up.

"he's my boyfriend." you said as calmly as you possibly could, even though you truly wanted to punch the living hell out of that dude, "and if you don't want him inside, it's gonna take me about two minutes to get every girl at your shitty ass party out." you smiled widely, "so, if you want a sausage party, then go ahead."

the boy's gaze went over rafe once again, a small groan leaving his lips. "alright, go in…" the faux-bouncer mumbled, and your smile widened as the boy stepped aside, making sure to bump into his side as you passed him.

"you didn't have to do that… i could've just gone back to the dorms." rafe leaned closer to you so you could hear him through the blaring music, only for you to take his hand in yours and squeezing it, "please. like i'd let someone get away with talking to you like that." you smiled up at him, "should we go find my friends?" rafe took in a deep breath before turning to you with a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

rafe felt out of place. when you'd introduced him to your friends with a cheerful, "this is my boyfriend, rafe." and brought his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss on the back of his hand that left a glossy imprint there.

after your friends had awkwardly introduced themselves to rafe, looking at him up and down the same way the guy outside had, they went back to how they'd been before; chattering about something had no understanding of, with you joining in while your friends acted like he wasn't there.

lately, he'd been noticing all the ways you were different in. you went out nearly every weekend while rafe stayed in his dormitory either studying, reading, or gaming. you felt so confident you brightened up every room you walked into, meanwhile he felt like he was nothing but a dark cloud that followed you around. you seemed to get along with everyone, being able to make a friend in almost any setting, meanwhile most of his friends were ones that he'd met online.

even now, with the two of you being surrounded by crowds of sweaty people pressed to one another, music blasting so loudly the floors sticky with spilled booze were shaking, you looked like there was nowhere you'd rather be; meanwhile rafe's flight instinct was kicking in.

he leaned close to your ear and quietly said, "hey, i'm gonna go to the bathroom." pulling back and trying to give you a convincing smile. "okay." you nodded, and when he freed his fingers from your own, you reluctantly let go of his hand, watching as he made his way through the crowd, a small frown on your lips.

rafe gripped the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white as he took tried to steady his breathing, his heart beating to the rhythm of the bass he could hear through the bathroom door. "get it together..." he mumbled under his breath. rafe took off his glasses and placed them down, turning the faucet on, splashing cold water on his face, wishing it could wash away all the thoughts plaguing his mind.

all the thoughts about how much happier you'd be with someone who you didn't have to beg to come out with you. all the thoughts about how much your friends would be more accepting of someone they thought was more suitable for you. all the thoughts about how he wasn't good enough for you. how he would never be good enough for you.

rafe was startled by someone beating their fist against the door, swiftly turning the faucet off and drying his face on a towel before turning to the mirror, "just be normal. just... be normal." he mumbled, putting his glasses back on.

the boy spotted you almost immediately as he was making hi way through the crowd, recognizing the outfit you'd spent too much time choosing, but it seemed like you hadn't spotted him. rafe's brows furrowed as he got closer to you, a dark-haired guy leaning close to you, a cup in his hand, his other hand on your arm, your jaw clenched.

"c'mon. we had fun last time, didn't we?" rafe overheard the guy say, almost as if he was boasting, deciding to stop a small distance away to see how the situation would play out. "let's just ditch the party and go to my room."

"that was ages ago. i have a boyfriend, thomas." "so?" the boy laughed, "your little einstein doesn't need to know. everyone knows you're just dating him so you can better your grades." "you think i'm that big of an idiot that i need to date someone to get better grades?" you scoffed, shaking your head, "then, what's it for? you pity him because he has like three friends?"

"i know this concept might be strange for you, but some people actually like others because of who they are and not just because of their bodies." you remarked,

"well, you weren't like that before." thomas rolled his eyes while you narrowed your eyes, "what do you mean by that?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "i mean, you used to fuck anything that moved, fucking slut. now you're just with some nothing loser who probably doesn't know how to fuck." thomas laughed, rafe's jaw clenching, intending to interrupt until—

THUMP!

your fist made contact with thomas's face, the drunk boy falling to the ground as you took in a sharp breath, shaking your hand with an 'ouch'. "just so you know," you look down at him, your words coming out slightly clumsily, "he's better than you. and bigger. take that." you turned to walk away from thomas, but when you noticed rafe standing there with a stunned expression on his face, you froze, looking like a deer in headlights. "rafe."

but rafe simply chuckled, taking the hand that hadn't just greeted thomas, pulling you through the crowd, hurrying you outside.

you were breathing heavily, goosebumps forming on your skin from going from the hot, packed party to the chilly outside air, looking up at rafe, "rafe, i can explain, i know i shouldn't—"

but you were silenced by rafe leaning down, pressing his lips on yours, his large hands going to cup your cheeks, and as his lips moved on yours, he hoped it conveyed everything he thought, everything he worried about, and everything you somehow managed to make him feel.

when rafe pulled away, he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, his thumb going to stroke the soft skin of your cheek. "weirdly, that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." rafe looked down, gently taking the hand that you'd punched thomas with as a hiss left your lips, the boy noticing some bruising on your knuckles, a few of them even bleeding, "let's get back to my dorm and fix this up, yeah?"

every time the antiseptic made contact with one of the cuts on your knuckles, you let out a quiet hiss, each of them sounding unfairly adorable to rafe.

"this is the cost of punching dickheads." he jokingly mumbled, "well, i had to protect your honor." you shrugged, making rafe furrow his brows as he applied lotion onto the cuts, "my honor?" "he called you a nothing loser. i'm not gonna let that slide."

"i thought you punched him because he called you... that." "oh, no. i've heard it many times. if they wanna shame me for liking sex then they can go ahead and do that. but i'm not gonna let them say something like that about you."

your words made rafe's lips quirk up a little, "so, are you my knight in shining armor?" "only if it's one of those ridiculously skimpy armors they give to female characters in games." you grinned, rafe shaking his head. once your boyfriend had applied band-aids onto your knuckles, he pressed a kiss on each of them.

it wasn't long until the two of you were under rafe's blanket, your naked bodies pressed together, rafe holding the hand he'd patched up, "you know, sometimes i worry that i'm not good enough for you." he mumbled, "why would you think that?" "i'm... i'm not like guys you've been with before. i'm not into parties, i'm not cool and confident..." "you're also not a total dickhead." "yeah, that." rafe chuckled softly, "i don't know. what if you were happier with someone more like you?"

"the thing is... i think you are like me, rafe." "how's that? we're... so different." "yeah, we have different interests, we have different personalities..." you bring your hand to rest over his heart, "but when i'm with you... i feel connected to you in a way i haven't before. like we're one."

"that's weirdly poetic." rafe chuckled softly, "i think you're secretly a sap." "shut up." you rolled your eyes, "but i know what you mean. like we're two sides of the same coin."

"yeah. and for me, that's better than anything or anyone else. i don't care if i could have the world's most perfect person. because they'll never measure up to you. i wouldn't want to love anyone else but you."

rafe smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead, "no one else." he whispered, pressing a kiss there.

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[kamitv]

Thinking about Sukuna who...

Hates you (affectionately).

If you expect the king of curses to ever admit his romantic and blissful emotions of love in regards to you, you'd have to (quite literally) be on the verge of death.

He says it a lot too. "I hate you," in place of saying the opposing three words. When you two first got together you found it odd but at some point, you realized that was his idiotic way of saying he loves you.

He'll always have this mean look on his face but sometimes, and only sometimes, you swear you'll find faint little hearts in his eyes when he looks at you. (Then again you might be delusional because look who the hell you're in love with anyway).

Always fucks you like he's mad at you.

Tying you up, choking you, biting you, scratching you-, oh the list goes on with the number of things this man does to you during sex.

He's so mean to you in bed, being sure to stuff you full of his cock(s) for hours on end until you're left completely ruined, and even then most times he doesn't want to stop. The only reason sex ends with him is simply because he pities your lack of stamina.

That, and it annoys him when you're so fucked-out that the sound of his name leaving your lips is barely over a whiney little whisper. Followed by that is usually the frustratingly small pushes you give him, babbling something about it being 'too much', even though your cunt is always saying quite the opposite.

Aside from that, he fucking loves when you're scratching at his back, leaving bright red marks he finds prettier than the dark tattoos decorating the rest of his muscular body. He'll be sure to admire take a look at them the following morning. Then, whenever said scars begin to heal, he'll be sure to remind you to create new ones for him-- he loves them most when they're fresh.

Requires your full undivided attention no matter what.

The moment your name leaves his lips, Sukuna expects every ounce of your attention on him. He doesn't care what you're doing, you're required to be focused on him whenever he requests your attention.

It's almost like he doesn't even 'request' your attention, he commands it. It's in the way he looks at you; the way he'd tip his head into whatever direction you're looking into just so you can understand the seriousness behind his request-- and yes, sometimes he could be saying something pointless like, "You looked foolish running around in the garden like that earlier," To which you'd happily respond to him with both a smile and a chuckle, "You were watching me?" And then he'd feel caught and cover it up with a roll of his eyes, "I always know your whereabouts, human."

Secretly loves having your eyes on his.

Or, he think he hides his love for the eye contact pretty well...

Though, you see right through all of that rather quickly. The way he always tips your chin up so that he can get a full look at your face all the time, tells you to keep looking at him no matter the situation-- he could be balls deep inside you and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and yet he still expects them to eventually return to him.

Even when he's not looking at you he tells you to keep your eyes on him. It frightens you sometimes when you watch him look at something else and then you try to do the same only to flinch at the sound of his rough tone hitting your ears seconds later with a swift, "Did I say you could stop looking at me?"

Hates to see you upset.

As much as the man thrives in the displeasure of others, you're probably the only living thing that genuinely irks his nerves to see upset.

Even though he finds your little pouts and huffs of frustration as cute as ever, he only finds such expressions enjoyable when he's the cause of them. And even at that point, he doesn't exactly like seeing you mad with him. Sukuna already feels as though you should hate him as is so whenever you're actually mad at him for something (most likely killing someone after you've requested him not to do so) it makes his heart twinge in unfamiliar ways.

That's typically when he'll decide it's a good time to throw you a very rare, yet much appreciated compliment. A simple, "You look pretty today," somehow always distracts you from whatever it is you're mad about. Which makes him smirk-- he finds it endearing how easy it is to please you. (Though, he only finds it so endearing because he knows only he can bring you such joy so simply).

Has a tendency to treat you more like some kinda pet instead of a partner.

He truly doesn't mean to but it happens naturally for a curse who knows little of what it means to love someone.

Stuff like, "Fetch me another water, woman." "Sit." and, "Stay here." is often slipping from his lips without second thought. And no he doesn't mean to make you feel like a pet, it's simply the way he speaks to everyone and you're no exception.

Well, you weren't an exception until you explained that you don't like it when he speaks to you like you're some kind of dog. To which he teased you, "Yet you enjoy my praises?" Naturally, you were confused so your brows twisted up and he went on to elaborate, "When I call you a, or my 'good girl', you always tell me how it arouses you." Then you're sputtering out an embarrassed little, "T-That's different and you know it!" "It is still something I would say to a dog." He deadpans, like he always does when he's speaking to you. Your eyes roll and he smirks within the split second your gaze isn't on his, "Yes, but I'm talking about the other things you say." Folding those large bulky arms of his across his chest as he stands before you, "Ah, so you mean when I command you?" Sukuna asks for clarification. "Yes," You reply simply with your eyes returning to his Again, he acts clueless, "You told me you loved dominant men." "That's not what I-," Your face is met with your palm and you let out a heavy sigh before giving up on your little explanation, "Y'know what, never mind."

He pretends to have no idea what you were trying to express in that conversation but you later notice the difference in the way he talks you.

Knows you have a not-so-secret thing for his thighs.

And how can anyone blame you? He often covers them up, of course, but when you first found out he had such slutty tattoos decorating his upper thigh, you couldn't help but he enamored by them.

Though, when Sukuna caught wind of this, he instructs you to ride those same thighs you find 'slutty' and audibly describe to him in detail what it is you like about his thighs so much. So when you're prettily sitting atop him with little to no clothes, safe for the lingerie set he had made for you, all he can do is stare at you with that cocky ass smile of his, ignoring his aching cock whilst he listens to your whiney descriptions of how attractive you find his tattoos.

Loves bickering with you.

He’ll admit this one. Sukuna can’t get enough of getting on your nerves in a teasing manner.

Flicking your forehead mid conversation just to watch your brows twitch and your face twist up, cutting you off as you’re talking just to watch the way you shut yourself up or sometimes keep talking over him as if to compete with him, and disagrees with most of what you say just because.

“The sky is so beautiful today, ‘Kuna, look!” You once exclaimed as you enjoyed a rather peaceful walk with the curse, your arms wrapped snuggly around one of his. He barely spares the sky a glance before grumbling a response to you, “It looks horrid.” “Sukuna,” You huff in that scolding tone he seems to adore so much. Biting back a smirk, “Woman.” With a little groan, you give his bulky arm a nudge with your head, “Can’t you be serious just this once?” “I am being serious,” Sukuna deadpans before looking down at you and meeting your gaze— feeling proud to find your eyes are already on his. You’ve got this pout on your face now, “What’s so ‘horrid’ about the sky? Hm?” Words are flying past his lips faster than he intends to, almost like second nature as he takes in the features of the only human to have every captured his attention, “It doesn’t look like you.” “I-,” You’re smiling immediately, “What?” “Nothing.” Oh how you adore when he does that — compliment you and then get all shy about it, his eyes darting elsewhere, “Awww, Kuna-“ “I’ll kill you, brat,” Sukuna cuts you off crisply as he tugs you further along the long path you’re headed down. “You love mee,” You reply in a nagging tone, flashing the man the brightest smile you can muster. And of course, he’ll never deny that but he also refuses to say those three words to you so, instead, he’s smirking slightly before responding with an expected command of, “Silence, human.”

Will never admit to being jealous.

Despite it being so obvious— he’ll always deny it when you ask.

He walked in on Uraume showing you how to properly prepare a meal one time and decided to nudge his personal chef out of the way just to show you himself. Muttering something about it being ‘easier’ if he shows you himself.

Sukuna often threatens those who have their eyes on you for any longer than five seconds at a time, even if you’re literally talking to them. And yes, yes he’s counting every second.

Has the most degrading nicknames for you.

“Whore.”

His “cockhungry slut.”

“Needy bi-“ He got hit for trying this one out without your permission.

“Brat.”

“Stupid woman.”

“Foolish human.”

But when he does say something affectionate— it typically consists of; “angel”, “perfect”, “beautiful”, “heaven in his hands”, y’know, the usual.

Finds his emotions only ever confusing him when you're around.

His heart feels strange in his chest when you give him small touches.

He can’t stop his breath from hitching in intimate moments when you’re running your fingertips along his jawline and studying his face closely.

You kissed the tip of his nose one time and whispered something about how handsome he was and Sukuna swears he’s never felt the need to protect and savor something more in his life.

If he were ever to lose you, he’d wreak havoc on the rest of the earth until you’re miraculously reborn, of age, into this world once more. (His words, not mine)

Loves your tits more than any other part of your body.

Sukuna likes playing with them for some odd reason. Like a big baby with a sensory video, flash your tits at the man and he can’t think of anything else aside from the soft flesh he’s toying with in his palms.

And he has two pairs of hands so he makes use of them quite often. Approaching you from behind, grabbing your waist with one set of hands and your breasts with the other— he’ll grope your tits and lean down to your ear to whisper about how soft and perfect you are for him.

Dislikes when you make him speechless.

And you do it often too. Each time he sees you, he only feels his words fading over and over again.

The first time he saw you in a red and black kimono constructed specifically for your figure, he felt all thoughts and words leaving him and the only thing on his body still working properly was his cock(s).

You notice how every time you call the curse ‘handsome’ he goes quiet for a moment longer than normal. He’ll stare at you like you’d said something foreign for a few minutes before muttering something along the lines of, “Stop telling me things I’m already aware of, brat.” But, his face is shaded a different hue of red and his eyes wander elsewhere for just a second.

Has and would kill anyone for you or because of you.

This, you have to scold him about. In the beginning of your relationship with the king of curses, he would dispose of people as if their lives had no true value— all for the sake of you.

You had to beg the man for months straight to let go of that sinful habit of his and almost did. The only difference in his killings now versus then is that you don’t know about them. Or, he trues to make sure you don’t know (he’s not that good at keeping things from you).

Is happiest when you call him certain names.

“My lord” “My king” “‘Kuna” “Handsome” but he’ll never admit to his preference for these nicknames over other ones you may call him.

A/N: lmk if there are any errors — this isn’t proofread!

[coupsalchemy]

Touch

Summary - The one where your love language is physical touch, and your boyfriend hates touch.

Tags: Lee Jihoon x (dramatic) f.reader, fluff, established relationship au

Warnings: none for now

Word Count: 2.5k

A's Note: I love this kind of themes as my love language is also touch. I am going to write more of this since I can't get enough of it.

The table gets rowdier, the drinks sloshes out of the glasses, chopsticks clanking against the steel bowls and plates. To confess you are a little disappointed. You poke the meat on your bowl of rice with the chopsticks, resting your cheek on your propped up palm. 

Jihyun, your friend, realises the distress consuming you gives a nudge to your knee. “It’s okay.” 

You nod, eating the meat, watching your boyfriend from the corner of your eye. Jihoon is diligently chewing on his food, eyes on his friends who are singing and dancing. Your relation with him sprouted one month ago, shy confessions exchanged at a corner table in diner. What you thought a love confession would end with a fiery kiss, at least at your flat if not for the wonky diner, but he just dropped you home with a soft smile and a good night.  

Jihoon isn’t big on physical touch or sweet words—the exact opposite to you. Opposites attract, they do, you were pulled in for his calm demeanour and handling issues with chill where you would be wreaking havoc for even a minor disruption. What they don’t say is that extreme opposites also can’t gel well. 

Soonyoung, one of his friends,  stumbles towards your boyfriend looping his arm around his shoulder only to get shoved off. He just laughs off at his friend’s disgust, and swallows him in a hug. He skips away before Jihoon can kill him with chopsticks. 

You avert your eyes to your friend who nods in compassion. You lean your cheek on her shoulder, kicking the floor under the table. He is supposed to sit beside you and not away. He is supposed to be holding your hand and you shouldn’t be seeking support from your friend. You should be kissing and not be scared of getting shoved away. 

A sigh escapes your lips watching your man, he is fucking hot. The cat eyes are sharp enough to catch every single movement, his pink lips are your favourite out of all, if only you could get a minute with them. His column of neck haunts your dreams leaving you gasping for air. His broad and thick shoulders, and his chest are the root cause of your despair. So close yet so far. 

His gaze flits from his friends’ mischief to yours. You feel your heart in your throat getting pink under his attention. He watches your friend patting your head as you nuzzle closer into her. 

“Do you want some alcohol?” She whispers in your ear to make sure you hear her over the Dokyeom’s high pitch voice. 

You muffle a no, sadness taking over you as Jihoon is back to his phone, typing away. Just in case, like with a tiny little hope you check your phone to see his messages. None. An ache starts in your chest, it’s familiar to you as you recognise it from the time you had a one sided crush on him, and watching him converse with other girls (no smile, short answers but still). 

“Need to pee.” You inform your friend before retrieving yourself from her warm embrace and bee line to the washroom. 

You look into the mirror hung over the sink, washing your hands, mumbling some encouraging words and affirming yourself that he still likes you or else why would you two are still dating? He wouldn’t have invited you at all to this dinner, even if it was supposed to be your first date kind of thing. 

You open the door once you dry off your hands and stumble a step watching Jihoon leaning against a wall scrolling on his phone. You turn around to go back into the washroom before you catch yourself and remember he is your boyfriend. 

At the click of the door Jihoon looks up from his phone, a small smile on his lips. “Done?” 

You nod, confused. “You can go in,” you move aside, giving him space to use the washroom. 

“Nah,” he pockets his phone, “let’s go.” 

He is already walking ahead not even looking back at you to see if you are coming or not. The restaurant is getting busier, all the tables are occupied with waiters and customers walking everywhere. You follow behind him, admiring his work outfit, black trouser pants and white button up shirt, sitting perfectly on his body outlining his definite shape. 

A tipsy man in his fifties is laughing and talking to himself is going on his way to what you assume to be the washroom when he suddenly barks out a laugh, crashing into—Jihoon. 

Jihoon is before you even before that man can knock into you. You blink at the tipsy man mumbling an apology to Jihoon and Jihoon giving a curt nod. He looks over his shoulder, “okay?”

You hum, crushing down the need to lace your arms around his waist and hide from the world behind his broad shoulders. He leads you to the table, his hands in his pockets, the long black hair strands swaying slightly with his authoritative steps.

You squeal inside, oh god why god, he is so sexy. 

He sits on his chair and you dejectedly occupy the empty chair beside your friend. The night is spent with disappointment and the need to feel his warmth. 

—

If you agree to Jihoon’s invitation one more time you will just fling yourself out of the window. The karaoke’s dancing lights mess with your head, Soonyoung’s melodic voice goes beyond sometimes with his enthusiasm, your ears aching. Jihyun is again at your side, offering comfort while Jihoon sat on the opposite side bench. 

“Why does he invite me to all of this and not talk?” You whisper-yell to your best friend. “Maybe I should just go home.” 

She gives you an aw, my poor baby expression and pats your head. To drool more at your boyfriend’s biceps and firm chest under his office shirt, you look in his direction again. Only, he is missing at his spot. Your heart sinks to your stomach, did he leave? 

“Jihoon isn’t—” you pause midway, your mind stops processing when he, the man of your thoughts, sits next to you, shoving a drunk Dokyeom aside. 

Jihoon smiles at you, his eyes doing that cat thing again. Not only sending your mind into a ruckus but also messing with your heart. His subtle scent infiltrates your senses, you lick your lips dropping your head to your lap. 

Jihyun, a traitor under the ruse of a friend, exits towards the washroom. You are nervous, the ac is on full blast, you were feeling cold just seconds prior and now your neck is sweaty. You wanted, no, needed, his attention, and when he is sitting next to you fulfilling your wish you are as good as a scaredy cat. 

Jihoon relaxes, stretching his legs and resting his arm on the ledge of the couch and around your shoulder. His arm brushing your skin whenever you fidget in your seat. You suck in a deep breath, butterflies swarming in your stomach at the proximity, and messing with your head. 

Soonyoung is belting out a sad song like he is fresh out of a break up, while his girlfriend claps to the beat with starry eyes. Jihoon and you listen to whatever crap his friend circle is sprouting, pretending to be attentive to their drunken words and laughter when, in reality, you are aware of Jihoon’s finger tapping on the soft cushion, his fingers brushing your shoulder. 

It is driving you to hell and beyond as you are big on giving and receiving love in physical form. And it’s the thing that had you going crazy from being unable to hold onto your boyfriend. 

Jihoon has a small smile watching Dokyeom choking on a snack. Sadistic. Your stomach flutters. God, you need to get yourself checked. Dokyeom finally gets to breathe, looking at everyone with wide eyes and a hand on his neck. 

You laugh, finding the whole ordeal entertaining, momentarily distracting from your troubles. Dokyeom chokes again, now on water sputtering it everywhere and you squeal, holding your stomach laughing your ass off, curling into the man beside you. 

The stiffness underneath you has you stilling. You sneak a look at Jihoon, his lips are pursed into a thin line. An acidic taste sours your mouth, you mumble a sorry before you seperate yourself from him and maintain some space between you two. 

Jihoon hates touch, you have seen how he shoves his friends away, how he walks with his hands folded and sees that no one is in his personal bubble. For fucks sake, he didn’t even kiss you, you being his girlfriend, the one who has every right (with consent) to touch, feel and hold. 

Jihyun comes back from her washroom, frowning seeing the two of you sitting away from each other. She takes a seat on the other side of the room trying to give you the space and privacy you were craving with your boyfriend. 

Now you aren’t sure if you want to be with him, not after how he reacted, his subtle rejection hurts. You make a move to go to your friend, Jihoon grabs your wrist. “Sit down.” 

You frown. He adds, “please.” 

He pats the space next to him telling you to sit with him. The strobe lights ache your head, the loud music and your friend circle’s loudness twists your stomach. Everyone’s having fun, except you. You are circling around Jihoon, throwing yourself in what ifs, and the fear of how you might accidentally cross your line. You did in the spur of the moment, something you couldn’t control, and you have seen the line between his eyebrows, and the press of his lips. The same distaste he has shown many times, but not to you. This isn’t how you planned your future with him. 

Jihoon, perceptive of your moods and their meanings, leans into your ear whispering, “why did you want to leave?”

You clamp your hands together, knuckles pressed white, a shaky breath escaping your lips. You have to do it, you have to end this, you can’t continue living this way. “Jihoon,” you suck in a shaky breath, “we don’t match.” You gesture between you two with your finger, “we are so different.” 

The unimpressed press of his lips is back, and you are scared. The cat eyes are sharp, observing each twitch in your face, the unshed tears, and he stands up, holding your hand. Surprised, you gaze at the contact, his firm grip on you shakes up the resolution in your heart. This is Jihoon, how can you go on living without him? 

“Let’s go somewhere calm. Super song isn’t the right bgm for our scene.” Jihoon casually leads you outside, checking left and right, choosing to go right, and passing through the other loud karaoke rooms. In search of a quiet place, Jihoon is wandering, taking his time to find a place without people, and on the other side, you are stuck at watching how his hand slips from your wrist and slowly intertwines with your fingers, as if it fits only there, surrounded by you. 

Did Jihoon initiate contact before? You are talking of ending your relationship and he is whistling while opening a broom closet. Jihoon is unpredictable. He closes the door behind you, darkness engulfing you both. He doesn’t turn on the light, and your eyes adjust to the darkness. The closet is tiny, Jihoon is resting on the opposite wall, and his body brushes against you whenever he moves. 

“Why can’t we work out?” Jihoon asks, moving around to get you two comfortable, filling the dark room with the rustling of his dress shirt.

You lick your dry lips, snapping out of how firm his chest feels against yours. “We just don’t. You shouldn’t meet someone like me,” you throw your hand up, accidentally hitting his chest. God, what is he hiding in there? “You should go out and meet someone who is, who is prim and proper and someone that doesn’t have their mind full of filth.” You gasp, covering your mouth, shocked at yourself and the damn slippery mouth of yours.  

Jihoon kills you with his silence. You groan, clutching your hair. This is the reason you shouldn’t communicate in person instead of sending a well framed and overthought text message. You should just blame the closeness, his hands next to your waist, leaning against your side of the wall instead of his’. How can one sane woman think in this situation? 

“Since the reason is out, I’ll out myself.” You nervously chuckle to yourself. “Bye, Jihoon.” You think of giving a ninety degree bow, and realize you’ll probably headbutt him. You end with an awkward wave of hand. 

“Bring your ass back here.” His words sent a shiver down your body. What?

You look over your shoulder, “what?”

He holds your shirt, pulling you back into his chest. “Where are you going?” His lips on your ear makes you grab onto his arm that’s around your waist. 

“To like,” you whack your brain to formulate a good answer, “throw myself onto the road, and kiss the road as I go flying,” your mind, as expected, stopped working the moment Jihoon gives a tiny kiss on your ear followed by a low chuckle. 

“I don’t want you to die,” the sudden saint to sinister Jihoon has you electrocuted, “I need to see you, be with you,” he grabs your waist slamming you back to him as you try to escape his arms, “touch you, and have filthy thoughts whenever I see you.” 

You gasp, nails digging into his arm, “Jihoon,” you whimper, his lips drags across your neck, baring his teeth at the spot your shoulder meets neck, sinking his canines softly, but not quite biting. “You-you don’t like touch!” 

He detaches his mouth, you whine turning around to look at him. “I don't? I didn’t know that.” 

“You shove people away, you are ready to murder Soonyoung even if he breathes in your direction!” You flail your arms, “even a few minutes back when I was laughing and was all over you, you, like, glared at me. I can’t take it, I hate it when someone rejects my touch.” 

“Ah,” he says, “is that why you wanted to break up.” 

You nod, hitting his chin with your nose in the process. “Ah, it hurts.”

Jihoon sighs, “you could have talked it out with me instead of like breaking up with me.” 

You pout, “how can I?” 

“I am not big on physical touch,” he agrees, “and probably hate it when someone comes near me,” you take a step back but he pulls you into him, “but that doesn't mean I hate it with you. I never hated your touch, but instead,” he falters.

“Instead?” You ask with a bated breath. 

“I crave it.” Jihoon slowly leads you to the wall, caging you between his arms, “when you were laughing, and were all over me, I was shocked,” his finger traces your face, from your temple to your chin slowly, ticklish. “I may not express it explicitly but I want only you to be in my space.” 

His lips brush over yours, “no one else.” He presses them over your lips, wet and warm against your cold ones. You gasp, clutching onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric, his body is on yours, feeling all the hard ridges and the muscle. 

“So I worried for nothing?”

“Yes.” He crashes his lips on yours. 

[retiredteabag]

hi teabag ily iky ily and i love your work just as much, im not sure if your reqs are open but i was wondering if you could pls do the “current bf” on the jjk guys.

Pls and thank you sweetcheeks :*

A brief and unedited headcanon request?

my masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Fussy, pouty, whiney, how many adjectives do you need?

The second he hears you use the word 'current,' his head is whipping around so fast.

"HUHHH???" - "Why would you say that :[ ??" - "Do you only see me as a short-term boy?"

He would interrupt again and again. "Take it back, take it baaaack!"

Even after you've confessed you were just trying to see his reaction, he would be unhappy. Only back rubs can cure his moodiness after that.

Suguru Geto

^_^

He knows you're being a tease.

For some reason, I get the impression that he wouldn't say anything, he'd let you speak until you were finished. Maybe you were making a video, maybe you were introducing him to a friend, maybe you were talking about him on the phone.

Whatever the case, he has to hold himself back from pinching your cheek when he sees you keep passing glances his way.

Aww, you're trying to get a rise out of him?

Too bad it has the opposite effect and makes him want to keep you in his pocket like a bratty little critter.

Kento Nanami

This man has definitely put a ring on it, so when you call him your "current husband," he is certainly doing double-takes.

Surely he's going crazy, it's just not something you would say, and yet here you are, saying it. After a pause to collect himself, I can see him reaching out to grasp your wrist, gently rubbing at your pulse.

You crack immediately, he's too sweet, and he's looking at you as if you've broken his heart.

"Kennnn!!! I was just kidding."

Choso Kamo

"Current?" He's looking at you, and poor boy is confused.

It causes you physical distress to look over and nod at him, playing it up like normal. After a hum of confirmation, he is grabbing your hand.

He brings it over to his lap, completely serious. Long forgotten is whatever video you were making.

"I don't want to be your current boyfriend..."

He's so tender, it takes everything in you not to coo at him. "You don't?"

"I thought current meant... only now... I want to be yours forever..."

Then you eat him alive. :]

Ryoman Sukuna

He's more concerned about the title "boyfriend" than he is with the assertion you're making.

You had just motioned toward him, the "current" remark meant as his introduction. Sukuna just scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Don't call me that."

And oh, you're just giddy at his response. Score! He loves you so much :D, "Oh yeah? You don't like that?"

"I'm not a 'boyfriend', that is a gross misuse of my epithet."

Oh.

"That's what you've taken issue with?" You pout at him, in all actuality, you're a bit hurt, wondering if what he had been expecting was "current employer".

It wasn't until he waved his hand in a dismissive motion that he walked off, "I am your lover, not your measly boyfriend. Do not insult me so again."

Toji Fushiguro

"Current? What the fuck?"

He is not letting you get past that, believe me. No matter how you try to change the conversation or brush it aside, he's talking over you at every turn. He doesn't even need to be domineering.

Oh, Toji can tell by the way you're trying to hold in your laughs that you're teasing him, but two can play at that game.

You're trying to proceed with whatever silly little game you had, everything after the fact was lost on Toji though, "Current...right, right... I'm the current boyfriend, funny, I guess you tell all your hoes how you wanna spend the rest of your life with them, you beg to fall asleep on top of all your boytoys-"

It would get to a point where you would just be unintelligible over his ramblings. Eventually, you would try to cover his mouth with a hand, "Oh my gosh, TojI!!" You would end the video while his lips curled into a smirk against your palm.

Yuuji Itadori

"Huh?"

It's not the instantaneous reaction that would come from the other guys; it would likely take him a second to catch up. He's just excited that you wanted him to be a part of your little video, and also a bit distracted by how pretty you look while showing off your outfit.

The words mingle in his brain for a second, smile dropping, he evaluates your meaning.

"What...?"

You steel yourself, ready for his reaction... but it doesn't come.

You turn to look at him, but he's stepped out of frame, a confused look has taken over his features, still analyzing why you would call him that. Gears still rotating, he'd look so taken aback. Trust me, you'd have to do some serious consoling for him.

"I was joking! It's a prank, Yuuji! You're my forever and ever!"

You reach down to stop recording, and Yuuji pulls a palm to his chest. "Whew! Scared me there..." Shaking his head, he would use a hand to muse his hair, " I didn't like that."

😭

Megumi Fushiguro

"Uh, no."

You don't even have it in you to try and extend it, he's already got a pinching grip on the ticklish spot of your waist. A silent, 'try again.'

You can't continue, looking at him, you can see he's already butthurt.

Good luck getting him to bring out the dogs anymore.

[fastandcarlos]

100% Whipped : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando is happy to do just about anything for you, which the other drivers are more than happy to remind lando about too

Lando looked around in confusion as sniggers came from around the room, his fellow drivers all looked at him in disbelief, many shaking their heads as he spoke once again. 

“There are other things we can talk about,” Max told him, smirking across at Lando opposite him. “We don’t constantly just have to talk about your girlfriend you know.” 

Lando’s brows furrowed in confusion as several others nodded in agreement with Max. It was a habit of his, and one he didn’t realise he had either, but the rest of the boys were all too aware of just how much Lando loved to talk about you, to anyone who listened. 

They couldn’t help but smile at how fondly Lando spoke of you, the way his smile turned up and his eyes got brighter whenever the conversation was about you. As much as they loved knowing that Lando was happy, they didn’t need telling quite as much as they currently were. 

“I don’t just talk about her,” Lando argued, but as the others rolled their eyes, Lando wasn’t quite so confident that he didn’t talk about you as much as they all suggested. 

Although he would never admit just how much he adored you, Lando knew that he had been falling hard for you. He loved to gush about you and make sure that everyone else got to see what he saw in you, how kind, caring and funny you were. 

The rest of the paddock knew that anyway, but Lando liked to make extra sure that was the case with all of his stories about you. 

“Every time she’s not at a race you sit and complain that she’s not there and how much you need her,” Oscar spoke up, “she’s all we talk about on a race weekend.” 

“Or when she is there, you refuse to let her out of your sight because you want to make sure that she’s alright,” George added, smirking across at Lando, “you don’t let her lift a finger.” 

More and more stories came out as the boys all interjected with the moments that they’d experienced with Lando, seeing firsthand just how in love with you he was. 

“I’m just being a good boyfriend,” Lando tried to argue once they eventually fell silent, but even Lando was beginning to realise that he went above and beyond, constantly. 

“I think you know how she’s going to spend her day better than she does,” Daniel responded, unable to hold back his laughter. “You used to tell me every day exactly what she was up to, almost as if you knew where she was minute by minute.” 

“Really?” Lando asked in surprise, not realising quite how much attention to detail he paid when it came to what you were doing. 

“You don’t even realise that you’re doing it half the time.” 

Lando’s stature shrunk, sinking down in his seat. “I promise that I’m not as whipped as you guys all probably think I am, it’s not that bad.” 

“You are,” Carlos stated, sending Lando a knowing look, “but I guess most of the time it is quite sweet.” 

“Aside from the fact that you make the rest of us look like terrible boyfriends,” Charles added. 

Lando struggled to hold back his smile, although it wasn’t a competition, he knew that the two of you were a popular couple around the paddock. He felt like he was the standard, showing the others how to take care of your girlfriend properly and not care about what anyone else had to say about it. 

“I wonder if she realises how whipped you are for her or whether she’s just used to it all by now,” Oscar spoke up, looking pensively across at Lando. 

“I think Y/N is just as whipped for him as Lando is for her,” Daniel very quickly argued, “you should’ve heard some of the conversations we had about him when I was on the team.” 

A smile emerged on Lando’s face as some of the boys nodded in agreement again. They were used to listening to you talk about Lando just as much, talking through how amazing his races were time after time as if they hadn’t been there to experience it themselves. 

“Would you guys like me to stop talking about Y/N so much?” Lando asked them all. 

The group felt quite guilty as Lando stared seriously across at them all. They all knew that he meant it, glancing between themselves as their heads all shook back across at him. 

“We’re only messing with you buddy,” George assured him, tapping against his shoulders, “maybe we just don’t need to know every single last detail about her.” 

Lando nodded, smiling back across at George. “I’m sure I can tone it down a little bit, the last thing I need is you guys all thinking that I’m whipped.” 

“Mate, we all definitely know that you are though.” 

He could try to deny it all he wanted, but the boys all knew what he was like. It was something in him that they were never going to change, but as such a popular member of the team, it meant a lot to all of them to see how happy he was with you. 

“Don’t even try and deny it,” Max called out as Lando went to speak again, “wear it with pride, some people would kill to have the sort of relationship that the two of you have.” 

“Do you really think that?” 

“Of course,” Max smiled back across at him, “you know we’re always going to find something to tease you about, you’re still very much the baby of the grid to all of us.” 

It didn’t matter how old Lando was, the boys were all very protective of him, and as much as they took every chance to make fun of him, they’d never let anyone else say a bad word about him. 

“You just continue to do you,” Carlos smiled as he met Lando’s eyes, “some of these guys are never going to even get a girlfriend, so at least you’ve got that over them at least.” 

“None of you can ever mention this to her,” Lando told them all, “do you know how embarrassed she be knowing that you guys see us as whipped for one another.” 

Just like Lando, you were very aware of how whipped he was for you, but if anyone suggested that you were whipped for him, then you would categorically deny it. You knew how much he’d do for you though, savouring the feeling of Lando willingly doing absolutely anything to support you. 

“We’ll keep it between us,” Oscar promised him, “unless she keeps stealing the chocolate I keep in the garage for once the races are finished. If that carries on, I’m making no promises.” 

“I’ll buy you more,” Lando assured him, “just don’t tell her how whipped I am, or how whipped you guys seem to think that I might be.” 

“Just admit it,” Charles laughed, brushing a hand through his hair. “Admit that you’re whipped for her, it’s not like we don’t already know it already.” 

“Will you leave me alone if I say it?” Lando asked them all. 

“We promise to leave you alone for the rest of the night.” 

“Fine, I am 100% whipped for my girlfriend.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bloomries]

yeah so my husband— my husband?!

includes : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary : calling him your "husband" (even though you two aren't married yet) to see his reaction.

warnings : gn! reader. mention of marriage. suggestive (in asmodeus'). the word 'husband' will begin to look strange bc it's used so much, apologies.

LUCIFER

You just meant for it to be a harmless little prank, something to tease Lucifer with later when you two were alone, perhaps gauge his reaction to the idea, but after you said 'yeah, so my husband...' Diavolo's eyes grew as wide as the moon and you instantly regretted your prank idea.

Diavolo clasped a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, beaming. "You finally asked!" This statement went over your head as you tried to quickly take back your words, Lucifer's blanched face making it clear he'll definitely be scolding you later. "But it seems I missed the wedding? Oh well, I'll just host you another wedding so I can see it for myself!"

"Ah, L- Lord Diavolo..." Lucifer sends you a glare as you smile sheepishly. "We aren't- I haven't-"

"How do you both feel about a chocolate fountain?" Diavolo is already off in his own little world, imagining how he'll plan out your wedding. Lucifer decides he'll inform Barbatos of the prank, and have Barbatos deal with it- Lucifer already has his hands full with you. He pulls you aside as Diavolo talks to himself.

"Do you see what you've done?"

"Sorry..." You fake pout, batting your lashes up at him. "My darling husband will surely fix it though, right?" Oh, how can he stay mad when he truly likes the title so much. Perhaps this will make asking you to marry him easier? You surely seem to enjoy the title just as much.

MAMMON

Mammon is always trying to listen in on your phone calls, he's nosy and likes to know all the gossip. Today in particular though, he's trying extra hard to hear, clinging to you and making you unable to do other tasks whilst on your call.

Deciding to tease him a little, in hopes of getting him off of you, you sigh dramatically into the receiver. "I'm sorry, my husband needs my attention, one second."

And when you look down at him, his eyes are wide and shiny, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Him? Were you talking about him? He's your husband? A giant grin takes over his features and it seems your little prank has the opposite effect you wanted, as he takes the phone from you.

"Yeah, sorry, their husband- that's me!- needs 'em!" He boasts proudly before hanging up the call and clutching on to you tighter, burying his face into your side, his grin not changing in the slightest.

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. "Rude, I was trying to talk to someone, you know." Mammon shrugs, not a care in the world.

"'m your husband, I take priority."

"You know you're not officially my husband yet, right?" Shit, you're right. Well, that'll change soon, don't you worry one bit! Mammon knows how to take a hint, and there'll be a ring on that finger soon enough!

LEVIATHAN

You and Levi were playing an online game, chat on full blast, when you decide to tease him- because it's just so fun to see his flustered expression, and you have an inkling that this'll give him some motivation for the game. "Ah, hubby, can you help me with these guys!"

"H- Hubby!?" Leviathan's neck nearly breaks from how quickly he snaps to look over at you, you seem unphased though by the phrase- as if it came so naturally. His heart skips a beat, his grip on the controller tightening. "W- Where are you, I'll come help!"

His gaming friends are all blowing up the chat box, some getting on voice chat just to ask what that meant- 'was Levi actually married?,' 'He was a husband?,' 'Since when!?,' 'Congratulations!,' etc.

Levi would have gotten more flustered, had he been paying any attention to said friends, but he's much more focused on proving he'd make an excellent spouse by rushing to where you were in the map and one-shotting all the enemies that surrounded you.

The battle is quickly won thanks to Levi, who puffs out his chest with pride. You lean over from your gaming station adjacent of his, and press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, hubby~" His cheeks grow a rosy pink, and he pulls his headphones off to give you a serious look.

"Let's get married."

SATAN

"Oh husband~" You call, "Can you help me get this book? I can't reach!" Satan peaks his head from around the corner to give you a questioning look. Who were you calling husband? He watches you struggle, leaning his frame against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't remember proposing." Satan watches as you deflates from his lack of reaction to your prank. He sighs, walking over to you and helping you reach the book, tapping it on your head lightly before handing it over to you.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

Satan has a feeling this was definitely set up by one of his brothers, and he'll definitely be getting his revenge on them for making you do this (and for making his heart hammer against his ribcage uncontrollably). Still, he hates to see you upset in the least, so he lifts your chin with his finger and thumb and sends you that smile that sends shivers down your spine.

"Don't be upset, you'll get to call me husband soon, okay?"

And he truly did mean that, he already had a ring, which sat heavy in his pocket. He just wanted to make sure you had the most perfect proposal, something straight out of a romance novel- because that's what you deserve. Soon, soon you'll be able to lovingly call him 'husband' whenever you wish.

ASMODEUS

Asmo is live-streaming again, doing a little grwm-type video, with you off to the side/in the background. As he begins to do his skin care, he asks for you to take over and chat for a little while for him, so you peak your head into view and wave at his viewers.

"Hello everyone!" You smile, glancing back at Asmo who's behind you in the bathroom, doing his skincare. "My lovely husband is doing his skincare right now, it usually takes him about ten to fifteen minutes to complete it." You say, however you can see his head pop-up from the sink and he whips around to look at you.

"Husband?" He calls, and when you nod, confirming your words, he grins. "Oh my, is this a proposal?" He asks with a teasing lilt, and you joking go along with his words, nodding before reenacting the famous getting-down-on-one-knee. You open your hands as if you had a ring box, presenting it to him. He holds his hand out to you, "I do~" You pretend to slip a ring on to his finger and he admires the imaginary ring before leaning down to kiss you.

"Now," He pulls away, wiggling his brows. "Shall we get started on the honeymoon part?"

"Asmo, that's typically after the weddi-" Asmo reaches for his phone, waving and saying a little 'byeeee' to his followers as he ends the livestream with a giggle, throwing you a lil' mischievous smile.

"No harm in starting earlier, right?" And despite only being halfway through his skincare, and this not being a real proposal, the honeymoon was very nice indeed- he can't wait for the real one though.

BEELZEBUB

You had seen the trend, and wondered how Beelzebub would react. So, under the guise of trying some new food and giving it a review, you set up your camera and begin filming. "Hey everyone, me and my husband are going to be rating food from the new McDevil menu~"

Beel doesn't react at all, and you send him a quick glance before trying again- perhaps he didn't hear you? "I think the Sin-Fries are a solid 7/10, what about you, husband?" But again, he doesn't react to the word at all, instead giving his own rating for the new fries.

Is he really not realizing what you're saying? You decide to try one last time. "My husbands food always looks better than mine," You whine, peaking over at him to see his reaction, only to see him offering you a bite of his burger. You sigh, giving up and deciding to just enjoy your food. You take a bite of his burger, offering him some of yours. The review ends swiftly, and you turn off the camera.

As you two clean up from eating, you notice Beelzebub quieter than usual. You're about to ask him if everything is okay, his face becoming flushed, when he speaks up.

"Soon, okay?" You blink a few times, confused by his words. He bashfully looks up at you, and that's when you realize what he's talking about- marriage, he plans on proposing to you soon. Your own cheeks now grow unbearably warm. "I promise."

Your prank definitely backfired, as now you're the one trying to calm your racing heart (although Beelzebub is definitely just as flustered). Still, you're holding him accountable to his promise- soon.

BELPHEGOR

You're not sure how this little prank managed to get turned against you, but Belphegor has made it so that you're now his personal pillow- again.

"I'm just saying, if I'm you're husband, then that means you should let me use you as a pillow whenever I want." You open your mouth to retaliate, but he beats you to it, batting his lashes up at you. "Don't you want your husband to be comfortable?"

"I..." You falter. You regret deciding to call him your 'husband~' to try and get him to help you with chores. You thought maybe it'd motivate him, or maybe you'd just get to see his cute blushing face, instead you're suffering.

"Come on now, don't be shy~" He wiggles about, trying to grab you to pull you towards him, but he doesn't really exert enough energy to be successful. "Ugh, why... do you... do this... to me- to your darling husband!"

"You're anything but darling." You say, crossing your arms over your chest. "Last time I call you 'husband' or any term of endearment, I swear..." You grumble, turning on your heels to leave, disappointed your prank didn't work.

Belphegor grins, snuggling up to his pillow as he watches you leave. "That's what you think," he mumbles to himself, yawning, "when I finally get that ring on your finger, I'll have ya calling me husband again, just you wait~" He snickers, and a cold chill runs down your spine. You glance back to see him asleep, although you feel as if he's planning something- and you weren't sticking around to find out what!

[pomefioredove]

only one bed room

summary: it's the sdc and everyone's staying over at ramshackle but, oh no! you're one room and one bed short. being the generous (or gullible) soul that you are, you agree to share characters: all sdc competitors, separate additional info: fair warning I have no replayed book 5 in a while, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, most scenarios end in cuddles. can be interpreted as romantic or platonic (nix vil and rook's part)

Deuce Spade

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

it's a big fat no from Vil. waking up sore and tired is unacceptable, and will affect his performance during practice. he will use the bed, end of story.

you offer to take the floor or one of the many stiff and uncomfortable couches in Ramshackle, but he refuses

what kind of aspiring honor student would he be if he kicked you out of your own room?

so, yes, you end up sharing the bed

he's a perfect gentleman about it

he insists on sleeping on the complete opposite end of the bed

to give you your space, of course

not because he's nervous

obviously it doesn't pan out- he's kind of a messy sleeper, and on the first night you wake up with him sprawled on top of you

you decide not to wake him up

you'd been thinking about saving for a weighted blanket, anyway

Ace Trappola

"you better not hog the blankets,"

takes it like a champ, though he might be screaming internally

he already sleeps in a dorm with three other guys- this can't be any different, right?

it totally is

sharing a bed with someone? someone he likes, who he isn't just forced to live with for convenience?

he's not sure how to tease you about this one without coming off as nervous himself

so he just shuts his trap about it (for once) and accepts his fate

in the end, it's no big deal for a player like him

he ends up hogging the blankets, though. hypocrite.

Kalim al-Asim

"YAYYY SLEEPOVER!"

he means exactly what he says

not a care in the world

all he's thinking about is how fun this is going to be! just him and his favorite Ramshackle prefect (Grim heard the news and will be staying in deuce's room to avoid any cracker mishaps)

Kalim, admittedly, is not a creature of great thought. he tends to be dictated by his feelings, and he can be a little selfish sometimes

so when Jamil pulled him aside and asked him to just buy another bed for ramshackle, he ignored him entirely

why would he do that? the situation is resolved, and everyone's happy!

well... not everyone, but Kalim's happy!

he stocks up on Vil-approved snacks, insists you two braid each other's hair and stay up late into the night talking with no one to remind you to go to sleep

(he tried to invite Jamil and got the door slammed in his face)

this arrangement lasts approximately one night

when Vil sees the dark circles under your eyes, it's over

you are confined to the couch, and Kalim is forced to sleep alone

Jamil Viper

"okay,"

really. he's totally fine with it.

besides the fact that he doesn't want to cause any more trouble, he's shared beds with his siblings before. no big deal

he just wasn't expecting to wake up with you snuggled against him

but this is fine

totally fine

he's barely conscious and it's early morning, still dark, the time he's used to getting up at

Vil has things covered, right? he can stay here for a little while longer. it would be awkward trying to get up without waking you

it feels nice having something all to himself for once

he smirks, imagining how jealous everyone else would be:

the beautiful, kind, intelligent ramshackle prefect in his arms? oh, the looks on their faces would almost make this whole thing worth it!

but in the end, he decides to say nothing

he wants to keep you all to himself, after all

for just a little while longer

Epel Felmier

"ain't no way I'm sharing!"

that's what he says in his head, anyway. but it's late and he's worn out from practice (and being shouted at) so he just sighs and accepts his fate

of course Vil would make him do it. it's probably because he's the smallest, isn't it?

you can tell he's unhappy with the arrangement (not that he's making much of a secret of it- he's grumbling under his breath all evening)

he starts coming around to the idea when he wakes up holding something warm

his heart jumpstarts and he nearly panics before remembering where he is

and then he realizes the thing he's holding is... you. somehow the two of you had ended up spooning during the night

but, more importantly... he's the big spoon!

he's almost tempted to wake you to announce that he, in all his manly glory, had naturally assumed the most masculine cuddling position!

(yes he sounds ridiculous. just let him have this one)

he lets you sleep, though. just a little more won't hurt anyone, right?

he's okay with the arrangement after that

Rook Hunt

"I will do it!"

Vil isn't even able to finish his sentence before the vice housewarden is practically jumping up and down

pretty much everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief; a volunteer! thank the sevens. otherwise, this could get awkward...

of course, he quite intentionally ends up with you in his arms

but not for any nefarious purpose, he insists!

he's a light sleeper, and can be stirred by any sudden noise or movement

you appeared to be having some kind of nightmare

it reminds him of a small animal caught in a trap, struggling for its life. he can't bear to see it- it's cruel to let a poor creature go on suffering before you can make the kill

of course, instead of killing you (thank the sevens), he decides to comfort you

he presses your head against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, and he runs his fingers through your hair until you calm down.

then he keeps you there, just to be sure you don't have another bad dream

if you gave him permission, he would gladly be all over you in seconds. kissing up and down your shoulders, caressing every perfect inch of your body, whispering words of admiration

but he's perfectly content just cradling you for now

hopefully, you will continue to have these nightmares and give him excuses to do this again

Vil Schoenheit

"don't argue with me,"

initially, you just gave him the bed

maybe you were afraid of him; maybe you like him; maybe you just wanted to avoid a conflict altogether

either way, you spent the first night on the terribly uncomfortable floor, and trudged through Ramshackle like a zombie the next morning

Vil was feeling guilty watching you

what? he's not a monster

and he's a leader, which means he has a responsibility. and you had so graciously invited them all into your home...

fine! he'll share. he insists, even

when you try to argue, he shuts you down, repeating all that stuff about responsibility and hospitality, blah blah

and he doesn't want the team manager dead on their feet

arguing with him is pointless, so you just agree

he wakes up with you against him, sleeping peacefully

now, if it were you clinging to him- he might have had a good chuckle. can't keep your hands to yourself, prefect? I'm just that irresistible?

but the way he's holding you, the way his arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, the way he's so clearly pressing you against him...

he hates to admit it, but you're an elegant sleeper. it's almost cute

the tension is relieved from your face, your breathing graceful and steady, and your perfect lips open just a sliver...

he is a perfect gentleman, and would never dream of doing anything without your explicit permission, but for one shameful second he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you

... and then he quickly puts those thoughts aside and tries to get back to sleep

he doesn't want any dark circles, after all

[rotapathetic]

!cosy reader bringing up the topic of pets (wink wink cats) carefully knowing rafe HATES pets 😭

ˎˊ 𝛝 !COSY 𝛠 wanting a pet though rafe can’t stand them ㅤᩘ

i read this as he hates cats so i accidentally made him a cat hater ✧ ﾟ .

you had been scrolling on pinterest all day, looking at rafe doesn’t know what. but you had been focused on your laptop screen so much, rafe slipped your blue light glasses on you, you mumbling a thank you absentmindedly. what were you looking at?

it was when you two were cosy in bed, rafe reading emails, you still on the app, that you brought up your invested topic, “hm, i sure . . love animals. they’re just the cutest,” you spoke aloud randomly, startling rafe.

he turned to you, staring for a moment, “yeah, sure,” he furrowed a brow, returning his attention to his emails.

you took a deep breath, looking at rafe. right, that didn’t work. you twiddled your fingers, speaking again, “and pets are fun, too. adopting and giving them stuff, you know?” you attempted a careless shrug, your voice giving away your interest.

rafe chuckled, “baby, dating you is like having a pet. i think i’m good for now,” he said, still scanning his emails. you tilted your head. fair, “but like an actual pet, rafe. a little guy running around, i think . . i want one.”

rafe set his device aside, looking to you and how serious you were, “alright . . we can look into it, whatever you want,” you smiled, “so what are you thinking? labs are pretty cool, all dark and mysterious. but it’s up to you, you pick what you want, i take care of getting things for it,” he already went to pull up a website to find things a dog would need.

your smile faltered, glancing to your laptop screen, “what about like . . cats? maybe.”

rafe turned to you, looking again to see if your were serious, and frowning when you were, “you know how i feel about those things.”

you huffed, “rafe, they’re not things, they’re cute little cats. it won’t be that bad, really,” rafe was shaking his head before you finished.

“they’re little evil creatures, you know i think that. baby, you could have any pet you want. i’ll find a way to get you an otter if you want . . don’t make that face,” he said to you slowly tilting your lips down and widening your eyes.

“otters are great, did you know their fur is waterproof? but anyway, i more so want a cat,” you turned your laptop screen, rafe jolting slightly at the sight.

he sighed, glancing up at you, “but . . labs are just as cute. the complete opposite of a cat, how cute is that?”

you slapped your hand on the sheets, “no lab . . ” rafe tilted his head, knowing you weren’t changing your mind, “ . . you’ll like a cat. because i like cats. and you like me, so . . yeah,” you made your point.

rafe’s hand came up to run a finger over your cheek, “man . . why do i like you again?” you gasped, poking his arm, rafe grinning, “ow. of course we can get a cat, anything to keep that smile on your face. if i use you as a shield whenever that thing is nearby, don’t say anything.”

you giggled, “no, you’re gonna wanna hold them and stuff. you’re being silly,” you turned back to your laptop, scrolling at more pictures of cats.

rafe furrowed a brow, “that’s what you were looking at all day?” you nodded, “i was working up the courage to ask.”

rafe frowned, “you can ask me anything, i’ll never deny you of anything, you know that, right?” your head came up quickly, “can we get two cats?”

rafe smiled at your excited face, “of course not.”

[kanansdume]

Okay, so everybody knows the Obi-Wan and Anakin elevator scene from AOTC where Obi-Wan realizes Anakin's super anxious about seeing Padme again but he doesn't have time to try to have a more straight-forward talk about his feelings and that probably wouldn't relive his stress anyway given Anakin's proclivities towards hiding his feelings, so he instead decides to provide a distraction in the form of provoking Anakin into an argument by blatantly claiming something that isn't true so that Anakin will refute it.

I want Obi-Wan to do that more. More specifically, I want to see him doing it with CODY.

Because Cody, for all that he is obviously a pretty steady person, is also a clone who presumably was told at some point that he had stress bred out of him and would not have a concept of "talking about his feelings" in any meaningful way. So when the war starts to get to him and the stress and anxiety start to get a little overwhelming, he doesn't really have a great outlet for it.

But Obi-Wan has been dealing with someone who isn't great at talking about his feelings and doesn't have a great outlet for dealing with his stress for like ten years now. He knows how to approach this in a way that's gentler than just straight-up asking Cody how he feels (a question guaranteed to get him nowhere, especially towards the beginning of the war).

So the first time Cody maybe shows up to a briefing a little stressed and they have like two minutes or something before it starts, Obi-Wan says something like "You know this reminds me of that campaign we ran on Mimban where I was able to successfully pull off that crazy maneuver" and Cody is immediately like "This is NOTHING like that campaign and that maneuver you pulled was quite literally the opposite of successful, General" and Obi-Wan goes "Ah yes, you're quite right, I remember now" and then laughs a little and Cody just rolls his eyes a bit but he's noticeably a little less stressed now.

But Cody is not Anakin and he cottons on a bit faster to Obi-Wan's game, so the next time Obi-Wan decides to try it, Cody doesn't rise to the bait and instead just responds with "Yes, General, I do, it was such an impressive maneuver you pulled, I'm sure the men would LOVE to do it again, but sadly we do not have the time or resources to implement it this time." Obi-Wan is fucking DELIGHTED, and from that point on, the distraction isn't an ARGUMENT, but a GAME. Any time Obi-Wan brings up some sort of old battle with blatantly incorrect information, Cody will pretend that it's the absolute truth but has to come up with a reason as to why it isn't usable in this situation or something. It's still helpful in reducing stress, but in a different way.

One day, Cody is feeling a little stressed about something, and he goes to Obi-Wan and says "General, do you remember that time on Felucia when you single-handedly took down the enemy?" And Obi-Wan realizes immediately that this is Cody ASKING FOR HELP. This is Cody recognizing what he's feeling, choosing to admit to it, and asking for help managing those feelings. And Obi-Wan is SO SO PROUD of him, and of course immediately picks up the game and helps his Commander.

And maybe, much further down the line, Obi-Wan's feeling more stressed than usual. Maybe it's just the toll the war has taken, maybe something specific has happened to cause it that's worse than usual, take your pick, but Obi-Wan's just... struggling a little, and Cody notices. Cody's seen it before, but usually it happens when they're already tucked away somewhere like Obi-Wan's quarters or something and he can just come straight out and ask Obi-Wan if he's okay and Obi-Wan can talk about what's stressing him out. But for whatever reason, that's not actually an option right now. Obi-Wan is visibly stressed in public and struggling to set it aside until he can get somewhere private to deal with it, so Cody steps up to him and quietly says "General, this situation reminds me of that time on Grievous's ship when I was able to execute a very successful jump and pin on the enemy combatant." Obi-Wan actually hasn't been on this side of the game before and he's a little distracted by whatever's stressing him out, so he doesn't pick up on it immediately, and so he's like "Wait, as I recall, you did NOT manage to do that successfully, and I don't see ANY relation between that situation and this one" and then halfway through he realizes what just happened and starts to laugh. Cody is just pleased that it worked.

[b1eedthefreak]

Heyyy ily and your work!!

Wanted to ask if you could possibly do a fic about reader who isn’t really bothered by the whole modesty deal. Like she changes right infront of Daryl one night like full tits and or ass out facing him and reader acts so casual about it even though Daryl and reader are “just friends”?????

Can be smut or fluff or both !

<333

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Made You Look

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: you casually undress infront of daryl not thinking anything of it, but he does

⌇warnings: reader takes her bra off in front of daryl (not sexually), that’s all it’s really just fluff

⌇word count: 0.6k

a/n thank you for your request anon! i hope you like it :) ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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You didn’t mean to do it to him.

The two of you had been clearing out the east wing, another supply run through the abandoned cells. Nothing but the smell of dust and old sweat hanging in the air. You were hot, you were tired, and your shirt had long overstayed its welcome.

So you peeled it off.

No ceremony. No sultry glances. Just a girl standing in a dim hallway tugging off her sweat soaked top and tossing it aside while rummaging for a clean one.

You didn’t expect a reaction. Daryl was busy, anyway, sitting against the wall, cleaning out the blood crusted into his hunting knife. Focused. Quiet. Classic Daryl.

You stood in your sports bra for a while, just breathing easier, arms stretched over your head, not thinking twice about it. Not until you turned your back to your pack and unclipped the bra too because why not? You were putting a clean shirt on in a second, and it wasn’t like Daryl gave a shit.

Except he did.

Because the moment he looked up, just as he set his knife down on his thigh and turned to ask you something, he got a full view of you. Completely topless. Right there. No shame, no flinch, no apology.

Daryl spun back around so fast he nearly knocked his bow over.

“Damn it girl—!” His voice was sharp, low, somewhere between exasperated and strangled. “Will you ever give me a goddamn warnin’?”

You blinked, unfazed. “What for?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

You stepped into his peripheral vision again, pulling your clean shirt over your head slowly. “I didn’t think it’d bother you.”

He didn’t look at you. Not directly. Just stared at the opposite wall like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “Ain’t that it bothers me. It’s just…”

You waited, arms crossed. “It’s just what?”

He mumbled something.

You took a step closer. “Didn’t catch that.”

Daryl exhaled. “It’s just you.”

That made you smile. You dropped down beside him, shoulder bumping into his. “So if it was Carol, you wouldn’t care?”

He shot you a dry look. “Carol’d never do that.”

“And if she did?”

He didn’t answer. But the way his jaw clenched told you everything.

You leaned back, casually stretching your legs out in front of you. “You know, I really don’t mind you looking.” You said teasing him.

His eyes snapped to yours, finally, fully, and you could see the storm behind them.

“I wasn’t lookin’.”

“Mhm.”

You grinned wide. “If you weren’t lookin’, how come you keep glancing over?”

Daryl’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile, but his eyes stayed fixed on some invisible spot on the floor. “Maybe I’m just makin’ sure you ain’t ‘bout to walk around half-naked all day.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a problem with me bein’ comfortable,” you teased, stretching out your arms like you owned the place.

He finally looked up, his eyes locking on yours with that guarded, sideways glance he reserved for when he was trying to act serious but failing miserably. “Ain’t a problem,” he said gruffly. “Just sayin’, give a man a warnin’ next time, thas all.”

You laughed, stepping closer so your shoulder bumped his. “Warn you? What, like a little heads up before I drop the top? You want me to knock first?”

He gave you a flat look, but there was something soft in it.

You grinned, “Maybe I just like messin’ with you.”

Daryl shook his head, but he wasn’t mad. Not really. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“Yeah? I’m somethin’ you can’t handle.”

His grin was crooked now, slow and sure. “Maybe I don’t wanna handle it.”

You threw your head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the cold prison walls.

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[lilac-verse]

Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

[bunni-v1]

Literally at the post office but I CANNOT get Lycaon and Hugo off my mind.

MDNI

They’re so very opposite in the way they approach everything, there’s no way it’s not the same in the bedroom. Like c’mon think of the possibilities of taking both of them at the same time. They’re so good, but I can’t get ahead of myself. Let’s establish how they are separately.

Firstly, Lycaon is all things gentle and loving. He is nothing if not a giver when it comes to your pleasure. Slow and steady in pace, he takes his time with you. His touch leaves no part of your body neglected, carefully taking in all you have to offer him. He is purposeful and each movement has intent to make you sigh.

It’s like he’s trying to swallow you up in your own pleasure, wave after wave you are drowning in his unending love for you. Sex is an extension of his admiration for you, he does not want it to be anything less than that. So he takes his time, ensuring you feel nothing but loved. It’s overwhelming, but that’s how he feels about you. Overwhelmed in his adoration, he lets it all out here.

He may be a wolf therian, but he is no more than a lovesick puppy between your legs. Claws and teeth dulled from gnawing on the kindness you’ve given him. He is stony and cold on the outside, but his heart has melted into mush for you. This is the easiest way he knows how to reciprocate, to show you he loves you when he cannot find a way otherwise.

Hugo, on the other hand, is fast and exciting. Passion in all he touches, he leaves trails of fire across your skin with his cool touch. It’s light and teasing, intent on making you squirm and cry beneath it, teasing you until you cannot think about anything other than him.

He wants you to drown in him, have himself etched into you brain, unable to think of anything but him. You’ll suffocate in the overwhelming pressure of his desire to see you come apart. To him, sex is fun and light, a passionate dance between the two of you. Maybe even a stress reliever at times, but it’s nothing serious, it’s just something you two do. Something thrilling only the two of you can share!

Speaking truthfully, behind his bravado and cheerful facade, he wants to consume you. He desires nothing more than to drink you up, watching each curve and twitch you have to offer him. There is no treasure in the world more perfect than you, and he knows how lucky he is to have it in the palm of his hands. So, he keeps it fun, light, easy for you. Anything you desire he gives up, because what is sex if not fun?

When they come together, it’s like fire and ice. They cannot decide who is right in how the pleasure. Lycaon insists you must be treated with care, Hugo complains about his boring style and suggests more fun! It’s quite a conundrum, but why can’t it be both? You can have fun and still feel loved, so surely they can come to an agreement?

Oh, they most certainly do. By some miracle, of course, they’re able to set aside their differences for you. Leaned agains Hugo’s chest with Lycaon between your legs, you may have to reconsider your fate. Lycaon laps at you, drinking you up as if he’d gone without fluid for days. Hugo has you speared on him, smiling all satisfied as he watches you crumble apart between them.

Lycaon inhales deeply, clearly enjoying himself a bit too much, not that you had room to criticize. What with the way you can’t keep your mouth shut, it was smarter not to poke fun at him. A particularly nice roll of his tongue had you fluttering around Hugo’s shaft. He chuckles at the sensation, kissing up your shoulder as if to encourage you.

“They liked that one,” He hums, fingers dancing along your stomach.

Lycaon doesn’t pay him any mind, far too focused on swallowing you up. You’d think he were a man starved with how vigorous he was. Your head pressed back into Hugo’s shoulder, only to be corrected by the man. Firm grasp on your chin keeping your eyes where they belong, focused on Lycaon. It drew a squeak of surprise out of you, and that was the first time Lycaon paused, narrowing a warning glare on Hugo from his place between your legs.

Hugo smiles, “Continue, please.”

“Be gentle,” Lycaon grumbles back, the vibrations of his deep voice sending your head spinning.

He returns with more vigor, lapping at you with more energy now. Seems he was eager to have you finish, thanks to Hugo’s annoyance. If you had half the mind, you might’ve thanked him, but when Lycaon begins to suck on you… well… most thoughts fly out your brain. Replaced only with him, his name falling from your lips over and over.

You wind your fingers through his fur, pulling him closer to you. The friction addicting in your hazy state. Lycaon directs a smirk up at you, watching your expression with unabashed delight. Unfortunately, you only get to enjoy the expression for a few moments before the two do you are caught off guard by an abrupt thrust from Hugo.

Lycaon pulls back fast enough that his teeth don’t catch on anything sensitive, and they snap together with a loud click of annoyance. Hugo does not stop his thrusting though, hands squeezing your hips as he guides you to bounce in time with him. Based on the look Lycaon has, he was most definitely taunting the therian.

Not to be deterred, Lycaon shifts focus. Decidedly kissing up your body, taking his time in worshiping you while Hugo does his best to make you fall apart. He fits perfectly inside, dick rubbing against your walls just right. Just enough to drive you mad, but not quite enough to push you over the edge yet.

Your mind is melting, chest heaving with effort at every new sensation. Lycaon’s heated kisses across your chest and Hugo’s throbbing member inside you working like a team to make you jelly. You nearly choke on air when Lycaon nibbles at the side of your neck. It’s like they want you to die here, suffocated between their unrelenting heat.

Cold fingers find their way down to your heat, playing with you in a lose way. It was just simple teasing, a means to make you fall deeper into pleasure, but it worked too well. Between the soft and sweet kisses and the rapid thrusting, it was just what you needed to cum for them.

A cry of someone’s name, you’re not aware enough to know who’s, rips from your throat. Your body shakes, hands grabbing onto whatever they can. The thrusting does not stop, Hugo fucking you through your orgasm, until you are abruptly pulled away into warm arms. You promptly lose consciousness for a few moments, and when you wake, you are being cleaned off by Lycaon with a warm rag.

He is cross, though not at you. Just annoyed, but he still finds in himself to smile at you sweetly. A clawed hand cups your face, thumbing your cheek sweetly. You lean into the touch, smiling back at him.

“You are alright, my love?” He asks with a deep grumble.

You nod, again smiling to reassure him. Sore, but you are alright. Someone shuffles in the room from the bathroom, and Lycaon sighs as Hugo takes his spot next to you. He cuddles you into his chest, cooing at your flushed face with playful admiration.

“You did very well, darling! Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, and though his tone is light, you know he means the question truthfully.

You nod, “Of course I did.”

He hums, “Good, good~ Can’t have your needs going unanswered. Though, I’m a little disappointed…”

You frown at that, insecurity crawling up your back at the sudden change in tone, “What’s wrong? Do you not enjoy yourself too?”

He laughs, shaking his head, and you hear Lycaon audibly scoff from across the room where he is still cleaning things up.

“Of course I did! It’s just…” He sighs, dramatically looking away.

“Just what?” You urge.

He waits another moment, smirking to himself, “Well, I did all that work, and you cry out his name instead of mine. It really hurts.”

You blink at him, unable to find a response to his stupid hold up. Luckily, Lycaon seems to find it for you, “Perhaps you didn’t do enough for them.”

“I beg your pardon!” He shouts, jumping upright from his position.

You can only sigh as they start bickering with one another.

[mommyslittlebird]

Prologue

Stepmama!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Things with your mother had never been good, but when you truly couldn’t take it anymore, you turned to the only place you had left.

Word Count: ~2k ish

CW: MOMMY ISSUES, leaving home, references to past/current abuse.

A/N: Please leave your comments and thoughts on this! I’m not really sure where I want to take this series yet, and I would love to hear what you all want to see!

Prologue to Mama

———————————————————

You weren’t exactly sure what would be the final straw in the relationship between you and your mother, but you had always imagined it’d be something big. You always thought there would be one final moment, when she did something crazy, like maybe she would make some threat on your life or chase you out of the house with a knife or set all of your things on fire.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

There were no threats, no shouting, no one even raised their voice. It was just like any other Thursday afternoon, really. You were going through the cupboard, looking for something to eat for dinner. As usual, they were largely empty aside from some dry pasta, some stale potato chips, some cereal that would require milk you didn’t have, and some various unlabelled cans. You grabbed the cereal. You could make something work. You always did.

Your mother came into the kitchen snacking on a bag of Blue Diamond almonds. She shook the bag and held it out to you. “Do you want some almonds?”

You froze briefly. You were allergic to nuts. “No thanks. I'm allergic, remember?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “No you’re not. Since when are you allergic to almonds?”

Since second grade. You had eaten some at a birthday party and went into anaphylactic shock in a bouncy castle. You had to be taken to the hospital. You ruined the whole party. You cried everyday for the rest of the school year because no one wanted to talk to the weird kid who had to get a shot in her butt cheek at a birthday party. You never got invited to another one. How could she not remember?

You looked at her silently for a long while. This wasn’t worth fighting over. You couldn’t expect her to remember everything about you. But the longer you looked at her, the more it seemed like she might not know anything about you at all. She knew you as her daughter, of course. She knew you as a good student: quiet, reserved, always well-behaved. She knew you as someone smart enough to do taxes, handy enough to fix the broken things around the house, resourceful enough to make dinner even with an empty cupboard. But none of those things were really you, they were all things you did for her.

Did she even know that there was you outside of her?

You had given her the opportunity to. You’d given her many opportunities to. In a lot of ways, that made it worse. You had opened your heart to her only to be told she didn’t want to see it. And here she was, looking at you like she didn’t even know you had a heart to open.

You started to feel dizzy, nauseated by the woman standing in front of you. At first, you couldn’t possibly comprehend that you had come out of her. You seemed so separated that it was impossible that the two of you had ever been connected in any way. Then, it seemed the opposite, that you were never really separated at all. It was now as it had been before you even came into the world: you were a part of her on every level.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be angry with her.

Just as you were an extension of her, she was an extension of everything that had happened to her. You could see it swirling inside of her: a maelstrom of trauma, pain, and mental illness. She was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator. She wasn’t a monster, she was just a sick woman who never got the help she needed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answered.

She shrugged and walked away. You calmly set the cereal back in the cabinet, swallowing your hurt and trying to make it dinner. You leaned forward to rest your head on the cupboard. What were you doing here?

Clearly she didn’t care that you were here. So what was holding you in this house? Why were you choosing this life where nothing was ever clean, there was never any food, and only other person around was a woman who couldn’t even remember your nut allergy.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you making it hard to breathe. You felt incredibly tiny, yet like you were still taking up too much space. You had to get out of here.

You didn’t even put shoes on before running out of the house, grabbing your keys and throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. You could hardly see the road through your tears. You were in no state to be driving at all, really, but, miraculously, you made it safely across town to the home your dad lived in with your stepmother, Wanda.

Your father, as usual, was away on a business trip. You didn’t know your stepmother that well, but she was a kind woman that you figured would be welcoming. It was your house as much as it was hers, after all. Anything was better than what you were running from.

Going to your father’s house on a week he wasn’t home wouldn’t have been your first choice. Then again, you weren’t exactly in a place to be picky. It was nearly midnight by this point and it was pouring rain. Your father’s guest room would at least have a warm, dry bed for you to sleep in, which was more than you would get anywhere else. You doubted you could even find a vacant hotel room at this hour, not that you had the money for that anyway.

Wanda opened the thin curtain in the dining room when she saw the bright headlights. The driveway was long and far from the road, so headlights were rare, especially this late at night. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was your car. The front door was open before you were even on the porch. You stumbled inside, soaked in cold rain and tears.

“Honey, what happened?” she gasped, running to grab a towel to dry you off. She grabbed a nice fluffy towel, scrubbing your hair dry. She wrapped it around your shoulders, trying to get your frail body to stop shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing but a small squeak came out. You were crying so hard you had to hold onto the banister to stay upright. She wrapped an arm around your waist, bracing you against her own body.

She slung your arm around her shoulder, trying to help you up the stairs. “Shshsh, baby,” she cooed, cradling your head and kissing your temple. “Let’s get you wrapped up and warm. You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” She eventually got you up to the guest room, the room she had long considered to be yours anyway. She sat you down on the edge of the bed before turning to grab some spare clothes from the wardrobe. She placed them in a folded pile next to you and knelt down in front of you, placing herself on your level.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” she soothed, rubbing your knee gently. “Just take a few deep breaths for me. Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“M-mom…” was the only word you could choke out.

She nodded in understanding. “Something happened with your mom?”

You nodded and blabbered, but she could see you were just getting frustrated with your inability to speak.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda reassured, trying to quell your rising frustration. “Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. It was… well it was stupid, really. She… well, I was hungry… and she gave me… al-almonds.”

“Almonds?” Wanda’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. She rolled up your sleeve and pushed two fingers into the skin of your wrist, as if she was checking whether or not you were alive in front of her. Her other hand went up to cradle the side of your head, pressing her thumb to your cheekbone. “You didn’t eat any, did you? Do you have your EpiPen with you? I have an extra in the closet. I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I didn’t eat any. I’m okay. I just… I can’t believe she forgot. I mean I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything about me, but… I don’t know… this felt important.”

“Honey,” she started, tone growing a bit harsher. She wasn’t upset with you, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She could’ve killed you. That isn’t just something that slips your mind. That’s carelessness. A carelessness that could have cost you dearly. God she shouldn’t even be eating almonds in the same room as you! Agh!”

You jumped a little bit. She felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing you needed right now was someone to scare you even more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

“I know,” you sniffled. “I just… I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just forgot…”

“My love,” she started, cradling your face again, “do you know what these sheets are made of?”

You shook your head.

“Cotton. And it’s washed with hypoallergenic laundry detergent. Because I know my baby has sensitive skin, and polyester and scented detergents make you itchy. And you don’t stay here very often, but when you do, you deserve a nice soft bed that doesn’t break you out,” she explained. “I know you may not think of me as your mama, and that’s okay. You don’t have to. But know that I’d sooner forget my own name than forget you take your coffee with two creams and a sugar. It comes to me as natural as breathing. Because that’s what mama’s do. They love. They care. And they never forget.”

“But… she’s… she’s sick,” you stammered. “Her head… she’s… she’s in so much pain Wanda.”

She squeezed your hand. “Her pain is not a crucifix, sweetheart. You don’t not need to martyr yourself on it. She’s hurting you.” She lifted your head, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was quiet, regretful, even. As if it pained her to admit she’d let you live with her for so long. The more you spoke the clearer it became that this problem ran much deeper than almonds. Bile rose in her throat as she imagined what you had been through, even just in the year she’d known you. She should’ve seen it sooner, but she would not let you suffer any longer. “Baby. Please.”

You wanted to argue back: tell her that it wasn’t that your mother was bad, she just had a harder time being gentle and loving. Her head didn’t always work right. That’s why she treated you the way she did: not because she didn’t love or care about you, but because she was sick and broken.

You wanted to tell her that you weren’t weary or afraid of your mother, just that sick part of her. It wasn’t her; it was different. But then you took a long look into Wanda’s eyes. You felt her hand, soft and warm against your face. And you weren’t weary. And you weren’t afraid. There was no monster rippling under the surface, no eggshells under your feet. There was just Wanda. Your mama.

You fell forward, off the bed and into her arms. She caught you, pulling you against her chest and cradling your head into her shoulder while you cried. She gently pet your wet hair, soothing you and rocking you in her arms. “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, kissing right next to your ear. “You deserve so much better, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything she ever did and didn’t do. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I would’ve come, if I had known. I will always come for you, I swear. But you don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Mama’s got you.”

You grabbed her shirt, balling it up in your fists like you were afraid she’d fly away. She rocked you, adjusting to sit on the floor with you in her lap. She cried too, remorseful and guilty for every second she let you rot in that house. She cried for the evenings you had gone hungry, the nights she hadn’t cradled you in her arms, and every biting action that had made you believe you were anything less than a miracle. It would never happen again. She would never let it happen.

You felt so small and frail in her arms. What kind of person could hurt a little angel like you? She wanted to burn down the other half of the city just thinking about it. She would drain every ounce of blood from your mother’s miserable veins if I could replace even a drop she took from you.

She rubbed your back and kissed your head, cooing words of reassurance and praise until your sobs turned to sniffles.

“Mama…” you cried softly into her neck. Her heart nearly lept from her chest. That was her. She was your mama.

She smiled, looking down at you. She lifted your head to rub your nose against her’s. “That’s right, baby. I’m your mama, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 4 - the bet

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

you groaned and turned over in your bed, last nights events flashing through your head. you had fun for the most part, but all you could think of was rafe's annoying voice running circles in your brain.

you got up to the kitchen and saw sarah making herself a coffee, "good morning sarah."

she grumbled in response, clearly not feeling her best. "never. drinking. again." she muttered.

you laughed at her, "that's what they all say."

"no i am serious this time. watch me." she said straight faced.

"we'll see how long that lasts." you looked down to see two new notifications on your phone. "the fuck?"

"what is it?" sarah's attention now peaked.

"why did topper and kelce just follow me on instagram. who even is kelce?"

"ughhhh," she groaned, "another one of rafe's minions."

"you're got to be kidding me. why have they just followed me." confusion taking over.

"i'm not sure. i wouldn't worry about it though, they follow everyone." she reassured you.

"ok good."

sarah sipped her coffee, watching you scroll through your phone with narrowed eyes. "they didn’t message you did they?"

you shook your head. "nope. just the follow."

"good. let’s keep it that way." she sighed, "kelce and top are basically rafe’s bithces. if they’re paying attention to you, it’s because rafe is."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "lucky me."

sarah smirked. "hey, maybe he’s just mad that you didn’t fall at his feet like every other girl at that party."

you snorted in response, "yeah, because i’m sure rafe cameron loses sleep over girls not liking him."

sarah just shrugged. "stranger things have happened."

you brushed it off, chalking it up to nothing. after all, what reason could rafe possibly have to care about you?

sarah's eyes flickering between you and her phone. "so… did you have fun? you know, aside from my asshole brother?"

you smiled. "yeah, actually. it was fun. kie and cleo were great. jj's insane."

sarah laughed. "yeah, he’s a lot, but in the best way."

you poured yourself a cup of coffee, "and john b huh?"

sarah nearly choked on her drink. "what about him?"

"i think someone might have a crush on him," you grinned."

"what?! who?"

"you, you dumbass." you said laughing.

sarah’s face turned bright red as she sputtered, "oh my god, shut up."

you just smirked, sipping your coffee. "im just saying… the tension was there last night.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. "please. john b and i have known each other forever."

you raised an eyebrow. "and?"

sarah covered her face with her hands. "and… i don’t know. he’s just- ugh, can we not do this right now?"

you laughed, nudging her with your elbow. "fine, fine. i’ll let it go. for now."

sarah muttered something under her breath but couldn’t hide the small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

just then, your phone buzzed with a notification. you glanced down, expecting something normal, a text from kie or your boyfriend.

instead, your screen flashed with something much worse.

rafecameron followed you

a/n: ah finally the bet is in PLACE! missed u guys

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub @yesterdaysproblemm @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti

[gloomwitchwrites]

Remember that time I said last one? Oops...

What If 141...trying for baby. Rawr.

I remember when you said it would be your last one. And no "oops"! You know what you've done. And trying for baby? Are you trying to activate my breeding kink?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: swearing, established relationship, oral sex, fertility treatment, dirty talk, breeding, creampie, arranged marriage, Viking AU, Post-Apocalyptic AU, dubcon (Ghost only), rough kissing, desk sex

Word Count: 4.6k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your foot tap tap taps against the linoleum floor.

Kyle is in another room—a private room. The reproductive endocrinologist you’re working with already ran your tests. Now it’s Kyle’s turn. They want a sample, but he’s been gone too long.

You’re no stranger to Kyle’s masturbation sessions. Rarely does he do it alone. He likes when you watch. But he never takes this long.

A buzzing comes from your purse. Retrieving your phone, you check the message.

It’s from Kyle.

I can’t do it.

Frowning, you stare at the text, confusing creeping in. Gripping the phone in your fist, you push up from your chair, and exit the small exam room.

“Excuse me,” you say, approaching the nurses station. “Can you tell me what room my husband is in. He’s collecting a…sample.”

The two nurses exchange a knowing look.

“All the way down the hall. Last door on the left,” one of them directs, pointing.

“Thank you.”

You try not to rush, but your feet carry you swiftly and with purpose. Following the nurse’s direction, you come to a stop right outside the correct door.

“Kyle?” you call out, knocking.

There’s a brief pause, but then the door opens, and your husband stands there, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry, love,” shrugs Kyle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I come in?”

He glances back into the room and then steps aside, holding the door open.

You step into the small space. It’s clinical and cold. There is one window on the opposite side of the room with the blinds down. Next to the window is a lounge chair that looks completely uncomfortable. Next to it is a table of magazines with partially-nude women on the front. Beside that is a row of video selections if the magazines don’t seem to do the trick.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. Kyle slumps into the chair, clearly defeated. You place your purse on the hook and then kneel beside him. “Talk to me.”

Kyle shakes his head. “I—can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He nods toward his groin. “Doesn’t seem all that interested.”

Oh. Oh.

You glance around the room, and then turn back to him. “Let me help.”

The confusion on his face is entirely too funny. “Help me?”

Shifting on your knees, you settle between his legs. The confusion melts away, and Kyle leans back in the chair, his hips flexing slightly as he makes himself comfortable.

The front of his jeans is already loose, and it’s not difficult to ease them down a bit more. Your hand slips beneath the band of his boxer briefs. The moment your fingers wrap around him, Kyle softly groans, eyelids fluttering as you start to stroke him.

“Is the door locked?” he asks, voice already turning husky.

“Does that matter?” you counter. “Do you care that someone might walk in? That they’ll see me pleasuring my husband?”

His softened cock begins to harden, and your words only spur him on. With another few strokes, Kyle is rock hard and throbbing. Adjusting your position, you release his cock, and then grab hold of his boxer brief, yanking them down until he’s free of it.

Kyle’s heavy lids open at the same moment your mouth suctions around the head. Tongue swirling around the crown, you take a bit more of him into your mouth. Retreating, you hollow your cheeks, suctioning until you come off him with a wet pop.

“How’s this?” you ask.

“Much better,” he replies, reaching for you.

Kyle’s hand finds the back of your head, and you grin as he urges you back.

Taking him into your mouth again, your throat him completely, bobbing up and down his cock with intention. You need him to come. Not in your mouth, but in the goddamn sample cup. If that means you need to suck him off to do it, you’ll happily do so.

While you’d love to give into to pleasing him utterly, you still have to focus on why you’re doing this. The cup is on the table beside him. The seal is unbroken. The lid still on.

Hollowing your cheeks again, you suck—hard—and then release him.

His breathing is heavy, and his thighs are tense. Kyle is close, and you’re not going to ruin this by having him come down your throat.

“The cup, Kyle.”

Kyle runs his hand over the top of his head, the lust-tinged haze retreating slightly as he reaches for it. He twists the lid, breaking the seal, and sets it aside, holding the plastic cup in a vice grip.

Returning to him, you throat him again, bringing your hand into the mix.

“Fuck,” whispers Kyle. Then, louder, “fuck.”

Saliva pools in your mouth and slips past your lips, dripping onto your hand as you continue your ministrations.

“Fuck,” he bites out. “Back, love. Back off.”

You immediately release him, retreating.

Kyle grips his cock and aims it, bringing the cup in close. He strokes once. Twice. And then his entire body shakes as he explodes, emptying his release into the cup.

Wiping the back of your hand over your mouth, you push up to standing using the armrest of the chair. Kyle is smiling—almost smug.

“Did I help?” you tease, and his grin only widens.

John Price

"What's wrong?" John's voice is laced with concern. You rarely come to see him at work. "Everything okay? The guard at the front gate paged me. Said you were here.”

Whenever you’re around him, John’s entire demeanor changes. It doesn’t matter that he’s at work. You’re here, and that takes priority.

As he approaches, John reaches out with both hands. They seek, grabbing hold of your upper arms just above the elbow. He draws you close, his head tilting forward slightly as his gaze intensifies, focusing on you.

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” you ask, briefly glancing over his shoulder.

There are members of his team lingering in the background. Though they talk quietly with each other, they keep glancing this way.

“Of course,” murmurs John. Placing one arm over your shoulders, he turns back to the rest of his team. “Give me a few minutes,” he says to them, before leading you away.

The entire walk to his office, John keeps one hand on you at all times. He doesn’t say much, only stopping to briefly address others that pass.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks again once the door is shut.

“Is it locked?”

John blinks. “Is what locked?”

You reach past him and fiddle with the handle. Frowning, John gently grasps your wrist and locks the door. “What—”

But the question never comes. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him to your lips, claiming his mouth in desperation. John groans softly, returning your kisses with equal enthusiasm. His hands fall upon your hips, squeezing, drawing you closer.

“You didn’t come just to kiss me,” murmurs John, retreating just enough to allow a sliver of space.

“No,” you breathe. “I’m ovulating.”

“Is that what your app says?" he teases.

You hum an agreement and John pushes in, guiding you backward toward his desk. You don't feel the wood until he lifts, and places you atop it. Leaning back, you spread your legs and present yourself.

“Open your present,” you tease, nodding toward the length of your body.

You came prepared. The large coat is made to go down to your knees, hiding everything when buttoned and tied. John reaches out. Tugging, he releases the band, and then he goes for the buttons, popping them open one by one.

He pushes the coat wide, and a growl escapes him. “You’ve been walking around base in nothing but a bloody coat?”

“And boots,” you add, kicking your feet.

Grabbing your thighs, John drags you to the edge of the desk. You greedily shimmy the coat off your shoulders.

His fingers explore, trailing over inner thigh to exposed pussy. One finger parts you, and then sinks in easily.

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans as he inserts another finger. “Already so wet for me.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you moan as John’s thumb rubs softly against your clit.

Another pump and then his fingers are gone. Through the haze, you watch as John undoes the front of his pants. He pushes them down just enough for his thick cock to spring free. Reaching for him, you stroke his cock, only for John to drag you close and align himself.

With one sharp thrust, John enters to the hilt. Keeping one hand on your right thigh, and the other planted firmly on the desk, John begins to thrust. It’s not a soft, gentle rhythm, but sharp and heavy. Every time your pelvis makes contact with his abdomen, the desk squeaks loudly.

“So fucking wet,” mutters John, his eyelids closing slightly as he gives in to the pleasure. “When I come home tonight, you better be naked. On your back. And in our bed.”

With your elbows propping you up, your head falls back in ecstasy as John returns his attention to your clit, circling it in soft strokes that send ripples of pleasure outward.

"I needed you," you groan.

"Greedy thing," purrs John, slipping an arm behind your back and lifting.

Your arms drape over his shoulders, one hand grasping his neck as John adjusts you into a new position. At this angle, you're held tightly against him. John firmly squeezes your ass with both hands.

He drives into you, the legs of the desk scraping against the carpet. A curling, buzzing sensation bubbles up, twisting low in your belly. The orgasm creeps up quickly, surging forward. Your nails dig into John's neck, and a throat moan escapes you.

John silences you with a kiss, swallowing that sound for himself, his hands gripping you so tightly you're sure he'll leave bruises behind.

With a low grunt, John holds you to him, sealing your bodies together. A warmth floods your pussy, his cum coating your insides.

"Think we made a baby?" teases John, nipping at your bottom lip.

"Not sure."

"Better try again then." He rocks his hips, and you whimper.

"You told your team you'd only be a few minutes."

He shrugs. "They can wait."

John "Soap" MacTavish

The youth of maidenhood is shed.

Your kransen is delicately wrapped in cloth and tucked away for a future daughter. The bridal crown you wore during the ceremony is still on your head. A delicate thing made of interwoven bands of silver; its shine slightly eclipsed by flakes of dried goat blood upon the metal. The droplets that landed on your face are long gone, cleaned by cold water and cloth.

Belly full from feasting, and skin buzzing with the consumption of mead, there is nothing left of the evening but the small dark of your new home, of the bedroom you will now share with your husband.

Anticipation is like a hidden viper. The women of your family told you all that would happen after, explained it in detail so that you would understand. You are eager to experience the good, but also know that your new husband might be completely inept.

You don't believe that to be the case though. During the ceremony he appeared calm and kind. He led but was not overbearing, and during the feast, he made sure your plate and glass were full before he even thought of himself. If that is how the marriage starts, then that must be what it is to come.

You hear your name, and you turn.

Your husband stands in the doorway, still in his wedding attire. He softly shuts the door behind him and finds the nearest chair, sinking down into it to remove his boots. Once off, he groans softly, standing again, removing the fur cape and draping it over the back of the chair.

He removes a few other articles of clothing until he's in nothing but his tunic and trousers. He saunters over, fingers lightly brushing against the hemline of your dressing gown.

"There is still blood on your face," you observe. "Let me wash it away."

"No," he says. "Reminds me of a good fight. I can imagine that you’re my war prize."

You laugh, and he smiles. In a way, you are a war prize. Your two clans have been feuding for years. This marriage is a way to make peace.

"Is being your wife not enough?" you tease.

"It is."

His fingers catch on the neckline, pulling the loose fabric over one shoulder. Leaning forward, he places a kiss between neck and shoulder. You shiver, one hand reaching out for him.

"We don't,” he begins but you shake your head.

"It's fine. I... want to."

He cradles your cheek in his palm. It is warm. Comforting. You sigh and lean into it.

The kiss is soft and delicate. There is nothing demanding in it. It is simple and pure. Even in this, he is not pushing. You follow his lead, giving a little more each time until you're reaching for him, hands pressing firmly against his chest.

He sighs, and then the gentle softness recedes, and the kisses deepen. Both of his hands hold your face. You are trapped but it feels wonderful. You give in, pressing your bodies together beside the fire, only understanding and learning these things about one another.

He removes the crown from your head, gently placing it aside.

The dress falls away and you are left bare. His gaze observers but it's brief. John's hands rest on your hips. They squeeze gently, guiding you backward. The soft furs brush that backs of your legs, and then John guides you down onto the bed, relishing every touch and kiss until you're breathless.

Is this how it's supposed to be? Will it always be like this?

John gives you one last kiss before pulling away, standing at full height, towering over you. He removes the last of his garment, his gaze never leaving your prone form. And you are unable to look away either, everything about him an enticing offer you don't wish to walk away from.

All muscle. All strength.

You reach out, grasping the one thing that now belongs to you. John groans softly as you make contact, wrapping your fingers around it. This is new to you, and you're not sure what you're supposed to do with it.

You gently stroke, thumb gracing the underside. John makes another small sound and you know you're on the right path. You sit up a bit, questioning whether you should taste him. The urge is too strong. You lean in, the tip of your tongue swirling over the head.

"No," he growls, grasping the back of your neck. "I won't last if you do that."

He guides you back and then starts to kneel, covering your body with his. You're on your back and he drapes himself across, hands roaming, exploring. His mouth descends, and then it is you making little sounds of pleasure.

"You can know me that way," he murmurs. "But first." His mouth descends and licks between your thighs, teasing and tasting until you're undone with pleasure, hips bucking off the bed and pressing against his mouth.

His hand glides over your stomach. "But first," he repeats. "We have a son to make."

He slides between your legs, guiding your legs wide. The head of him enters, and then there is a quiet sting that shudders through you.

"Breathe," he murmurs. "Relax."

You sigh, follow his instruction. The sting evaporates, and he retreats a bit before adding more. The stretch is tight but no longer painful. Each gentle thrusts gives you more before he's fully seated inside.

Your hands start at his waist and then explore to his back, down to just above his buttocks to ascend at his shoulders. John's forearms rest on either side of your head, his forehead coming to rest against your own. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, lips nearly touching as he rolls his hips, thrusting lightly.

"How long will it take?" he asks, rocking against, this time with a little more force. "If I keep you here, beneath me, full of my cock. How long?"

He thrusts again, and your whole body clings to him, the friction unbearably good. Your only response is a whimper.

His lips lightly brush over yours and then your chin.

"Should I tie you to this bed? Use the leathers that hold my armor together." He nips at your shoulder. "I can pretend you are my war prize."

"I am your war prize," you breathe, as he thrusts in earnest.

"Aye. You are. Separate clans. A marriage for peace. An enemy no longer."

Your arms tighten around him. You are pinned beneath him, unable to move, and yet completely willing in satiating both your desires.

You are lost to his movements, of the fullness, of the growing pleasure that is seconds from exploding outward. He rocks his hips forward, his pelvis pressing against that tender flesh.

You clench down, drowning in a wave that consumes.

You hear his inhalation, feel his muscles bunching under your hands, and then he's grinding forward, keeping still as he floods your womb with warmth.

But he does not pull out. Does not retreat. Instead, he kisses you softly, hips rocking before you feel that fullness blooming again.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The world is fractured. Broken.

And you have been thrust right into the thick of it. Taken by people unknown, signed off and given to a stranger.

Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Your new...what? Husband? Minder?

He stands before you, arms at his sides, observing but not speaking. As if pulled directly from duty, he's still in his all-black fatigues. The weapons are gone. They rest on the small table in the kitchen area of the tiny apartment.

But you smell blood on him. Musk. The dirt and grime of the brutality that is now home to the last remaining humans.

"What?" you snap, his gaze unnerving.

The defensiveness is just an illusion—a coping mechanism.

Simon wears a black balaclava, and all you can make out about him are his eyes. They are deep pools of dark brown that reflect the light like whiskey in a clear bottle. He is tall too and solid muscle.

The idea of him pinning you to the bed, of his weight keeping you in place as he has his way with you, makes your pussy clench involuntarily. You shouldn’t feel that way—to think of him as anything but your captor.

"You understand what's happened?" he asks.

Yes.

"I'm to be your whore."

You notice the slight twitch at the corner of Simon's eye at the word.

"Neither of us wanted this," he replies slowly, his gaze just as languid as it surveys your body.

"Winning me over with your charm," you mutter.

Simon grunts, and then brushes past you into the bathroom. He shuts the door and seconds later you hear the shower running.

Making a run for it isn't an option. The moment you leave, they'll be after you. Would they take you away from Simon? Give you to someone else? Or would they just think you're too much trouble and a bullet would be a mercy.

Your thoughts race, and when Simon emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a towel, you're momentarily stunned into silence. It is not just his body that is hard but everything about him. And now, you have a clear view of his face. He is handsome. Pleasing to the eye even with the scars.

Maybe it won't be all bad.

"It's all yours." He nods toward the bathroom where steam slowly rolls out through the crack in the door.

You follow suit, washing away the stress of the day.

Emerging is the hard part. There are no clothes for you to change in to, but that's the point. You are to remain in this apartment, stay in his bed, and allow Simon to breed you until there's no doubt you carry his child.

All the lights are off except for one. The bedroom isn't a separate room but an area sectioned off by a large curtain. From behind the curtain is a dim glow. You head for it, towel wrapped around body like armor. You push it back only to find Simon reclining, the top sheet covering his lower-half as he reads from a folder.

The rings on the curtain clink and he glances up. Simon closes the folder and tosses it off to the side.

That needy feeling returns. You shouldn’t indulge it or yourself, but it is there, lingering beneath the surface.

For a time, there is only silence, the two of you simply staring at each other.

"Are you joining me?" Simon finally asks.

You sigh. "I have to."

"You do," he agrees. You don't move closer. "I won't hurt you."

"Very reassuring,” you mutter, clutching the towel tighter.

Simon runs his hand through his hair. “Either we do this or you’re given to someone else. Did they tell you that?”

“I know the expectation.”

Simon leans forward into a more seated position. “Then you know I can keep you safe.”

It’s not untrue. You are his now.

You gaze narrows. “You don’t even know me.”

"I know you're going to carry my son or daughter. And that bloody well fucking matters to me."

"Will I?"

"You will."

You clutch the towel to you tighter, unable to part with it. Simon’s gaze remains unmoved. It is an intensity that worms its way inside, slithering beneath your skin to curl around your ribs. Every bit of him is on full display. Your mind drifts—imagining what might be underneath the sheet.

It’s not what you want for yourself, but there are worse men in this compound. There are worse fates. He’s not particularly happy about the arrangement either, something the two of you have in common. But he’s not ugly, and hasn’t been brutish.

Simon sighs, and it sounds like defeat.

He reaches across himself, turning off the small light next to the bed, plunging the two of into darkness.

“Better?”

You grumble but drop the towel. In the dark, your nakedness feels less isolating. As you step up to the bed, you glimpse Simon’s shadow as he draws the bedding back to give you space to slip in.

The bedsheets are cold, and as your grab them to cover yourself and create space, Simon’s hand comes down on your waist, dragging you close to him.

Your hand darts out, pressing against his chest.

Simon gently grasps your wrist and guides your hand away from his chest. "Said I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know," you murmur.

He smells clean and fresh, not like the dirt and blood from earlier. And yet, he feels dangerous, his hold an intense grip that teases surrender and tells you to give in.

What will he do with you?

Will he simply put you on your back?

Will you just have to take it?

Simon lightly squeezes, and then his hand descends, exploring. It lingers on your upper thigh, and then travels upward, learning the curve of your hip and angles of your arm. Simon cups one breast, thumb brushing over the nipple.

A little shudder follows that stroke. A sigh passes your lips and Simon shifts closer.

"I won't hurt you," he murmurs.

Simons’ teeth graze the hardening peak, as you groan loudly, surprised at how your body reacts to him. Answering with a groan of his own, Simon’s other hand delves between your thighs.

Exploring your sex, Simon’s fingers part your pussy, navigating and learning as much as he can. One finger plays with your clit as another teases your entrance, swirling the slickness around that blooms there with each stroke.

“But I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

With that one admission, Simon rolls you onto your back. When he spreads your legs, he does not settle between. He drapes a leg over each of his shoulders, and then his mouth is on your pussy, licking ravenously. His large hands slide up your stomach to tenderly grasp and tease both breasts.

His mouth and hands are full of you, and there is only pleasure.

Simon is right.

He does not harm, but he is not gentle.

Each swirl and tease of his tongue is harsh, sending you quickly to your end. The orgasm is bright and bursting—consuming. Yet, Simon remains steadfast, tasting until the first becomes a second and your thighs shake against the sides of his head.

“They assigned you to me,” he growls, shifting position, settling his hips between your spread thighs. “Made it an order.” The head of his cock presses in, and in one movement, Simon slides home. “And I’ll follow that order.”

His breathing is ragged. Even in the dark, you notice the gentle swell of his chest as he takes in air. “But fuck,” he groans, testing with a steady roll of his hips. “I’m gonna make sure we both enjoy ourselves.”

Simon casts his full weight over you, and there is nothing left for you to do but cling to him. Your feet rest against the back of his calves, and your fingers dig into his lower back as Simon thrusts without mercy.

He is brutal in this—but it does not hurt. It’s only rough, and within you, some primal piece is fracturing, feeding into what he’s giving.

Simon’s hands descend to squeeze your ass. He holds firm, lifting your pelvis upward at the same moment he holds himself tightly to your body. Growling against your throat, he shudders, and you feel his release flood your pussy.

This one deed seals it.

You are forever his.

Even if you try to leave, he’s never letting you go.

Simon’s lips pause at the pulse in your throat. He lingers there and then lightly kisses the spot. It’s a tender, nearly intimate touch. He ascends to the line of your jaw, and then his lips are on yours in a gentle caress.

You part for him, and his tongue slides inside. With a low groan, Simon lightly thrusts, his hardness returning with each stroke. The kisses deepen, and Simon eases you back to the bed, his cock sliding out of your pussy.

“Simon,” you murmur, one hand stroking over his chest.

His hand goes around your throat while the other dips between your legs. He finds your pussy, two fingers pushing into the mess.

“Give me one more, love. Tonight. One more.”

Simon withdraws, and with one quick movement, he rolls you onto your stomach.

“Open,” he commands, and you do so.

His two fingers that were just in your pussy slide into your mouth. Guiding your legs wide, Simon enters you again. The stretch is perfect, and his thrusts only push your mouth further down his fingers.

His hand slips between your body and the bed, seeking until he finds what he's after. With a few quick swirls of Simon's fingers against your clit, you scream around the ones in your mouth.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me."

Your pussy squeezes around him and Simon moans his pleasure.