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swordsandholly · 3 months

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 6: Where…?

The first thing out of your mouth when you wake is a low, discontent groan as your hands fist the blankets around you. Your head and eyes throb. For a good several minutes, you remain completely still - no motivation to move from your semi-comfortable position. You really can’t drink like you used to, huh?

Eventually you work up the courage to crack your eyes open. At least the curtains are closed. The room takes a minute to focus, and the first thing you notice are the incorrectly colored sheets - lacking the usual floral print. You frown, grunting as you sit up. The second thing you notice is the t-shirt and sweatpants you’re currently wearing - not yours and easily a couple sizes too big. They have to belong to someone wide and tall to not be fitted on you. You don’t remember going home with anyone…

You take a moment to look around. It’s a decently sized room with minimal decor. A few art prints line the walls and the closet is in perfect order - separated by type and color. Though, most of it appears to be black. The bed is huge. Tall, too, you realize as you slowly slip your way out of it, nearly tripping on the long fabric of the sweatpants you’ve been dressed in. Glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the wall, you realize your makeup is gone and your hair is braided. There’s a dark wooden dresser and a matching desk with a laptop and sketchbook neatly placed on top. You wander over nosily, squinting down at the book. Oh shit! Oh shit, that’s Simon’s sketchbook. You’d recognize that collection of skull pattered stickers anywhere.

The sound of clinking pans and the scent of bacon slowly registers. Did… did you somehow end up going home with him? There’s no way, right? You remember asking him to dance, you remember him being surprisingly good and… and… that’s about it. On top of the dresser is your outfit from the night before, neatly folded with your bra tucked underneath. Your face heats and you cover your chest.

After a quick self inspection (and a nervous check for condoms in the trash) you decide you’re pretty sure you didn’t fuck anyone. Probably. Hopefully. What happens if you did? Would Simon tell John? Should you tell John? Will it make things awkward? Will he fire you? Oh, you really don’t want to lose this job. It’s the best you’ve ever had and you really, truly love all your boys so much. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes both to soothe the ache in them and to bite back tears.

You’ve always been such a stupid girl.

After giving yourself a few minutes to sit on the bed and properly freak out, flapping your hands in an attempt to get that nervous energy out of your system, you decide it’s time to face the music.

You slip your bralette back on before slowly cracking open the bedroom door. The short hall is mostly shadowed, lights off and the sun drifting in from what you assume is the living room. The door across from you is closed and to your left is a rather nice, spotless bathroom.

You peak your head out into the living room. It’s large and open, flowing into the kitchen as hardwood becomes tile and an island with stools between the two. Simon is the source of the clinking, apparently, moving around the stove like it’s second nature. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he can cook - he’s a grown man - but there’s something about the way he arranges the plates, the from-scratch ingredients, that tells you he does actively enjoys it.

It’s cute.

Johnny and Kyle sit on a well loved couch just a few feet from you, both focused on some TV show you don’t recognize. A slow frown forms on your face, turning into shock as the door beside you opens. You nearly jump out of your skin as John appears beside you in a robe and plaid pajama pants.

A soft smile splits his face. “Mornin’, dove.”

“Och, she’s awake!” Johnny grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch as he turns to face you.

You blink dumbly, head pounding and gut churning as you step closer to stand beside the couch. Without thinking you blurt, “You all… live together?”

“Course.” Kyle pipes up, looking at you as well. As if you were supposed to have known that already.

You melt to the floor in a hungover heap. “Oh, thank god!”

Johnny laughs. “Why thank god?”

“I was so scared I did something stupid…” Your voice cracks as you press your cheek to the cool hardwood. You didn’t fuck anyone, you didn’t embarrass yourself, you were simply taken care of. The relief alone almost makes you want to cry. Though, that’s probably the hangover more than anything.

“Oh, love.” Kyle reaches down to soothe a hand over your hair. “We wouldn’t have done anything like that, yeah?”

You nod.

“Sorry it scared you.” John murmurs, crouching to set a mug of coffee on the floor beside your head. “We didn’t feel comfortable sendin’ y’home alone.”

You nod again, slowly pushing yourself up to grab the mug. The bitter taste of black coffee makes you cringe, but it wakes your system up and seems to push your hangover down to a tolerable level.

“I should go home…” You sigh, not moving a single muscle off the floor where you currently sit.

“Not before you eat somethin’.” Simon calls from the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to look around the living room. The sun has been mostly blocked out by barely cracked curtains. There’s a little bit of each of them in it - artwork scattered across the walls. A few photos - one of John and Simon that looks like the opening of the shop. The leather pride flag sticker stuck on what looks like a toolbox doesn’t escape your notice. Probably John’s. You’ve never seen another man with such well cared for boots and leather coats. Maybe that’s assumptive. There’s a game boy and a PS5 behind the 4K television. Your eyes follow the rather extensive sound system to a massive CD organizer. There’s a short hall on the opposite side of the apartment where you assume the other two rooms are. Everything is so… homey. Comfortable.

“Wait, who’s clothes are these?” You ask suddenly, staring down at the oversized t-shirt and tightly tied sweatpants that pool at your feet awkwardly.

“Mine.” Simon shrugs, setting a plate on the coffee table for you before handing two more off to Johnny and Kyle.

“Comfy.” You hum, eyes zeroing in on the large breakfast in front of you - plate piled high with bacon, sausage, and waffles.

“Ye can sit up here wit’ us.” Johnny pats the empty couch beside him.

You think for a moment before shaking your still aching head. “Don’t think I should stand up yet.”

The food is even better than it looks. For a Brit Simon actually knows how to handle his flavors.

You groan as a particular rough throb stabs at your temple. “I don’t remember drinking enough to be this hungover…”

“Johnny can be very convincing.” Simon rumbles, stabbing a piece of sausage.

“What do you remember?” Kyle leans forward a bit to reach for his coffee.

You shrug. “I remember dancing. That’s kind of where it stops.”

“At least you got to skip the part of the night where Johnny starts rantin’ about chemistry math.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Och! Ye love my chemistry talk! It’s the structure of the universe! It’s-“

“Yap yap yap.” Kyle opens and closes his hand in a mocking ‘blah blah blah’ motion.

Kyle helps Simon clean up. You try to insist to let you help as well, but they won’t hear of it. John offers to let you stay the day and sleep off your hangover but you shake your head, wanting nothing more than to take a burning hot shower in your own bathroom - as fun as hanging around with them all day sounds. So, you slip into Simon’s room to change back into your own clothes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kyle rest a hand on Simon’s lower back. A light touch, but solid. You don’t have the wherewithal to think about it.

You peel off Simon’s clothes and put yours back on with a wrinkled nose. There’s something so gross about it, not that you’re clean right now anyway. Thank god you had the foresight to not wear underwire. You order yourself a car on your mostly dead phone as you wander back out to the living room. Your skirt suddenly feels far too exposing for the daylight.

You chew your lip. “My driver’s five minutes out… so, I’ll see you guys Wednesday?”

“I’ll walk you down.” John grunts, pulling himself up out of the arm chair.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” You pause when he gives you that look you’ve come to recognize as ‘don’t argue, I’m doing it anyway.’

You give a round of goodbyes to the others who make no movement to get off the couch, fully sunken in. Johnny has sprawled over the L part of the couch with an arm over his eyes and a water bottle in hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay over. Sorry if I got too, uh, sloppy or whatever.” You murmur as the elevator makes for the lobby.

John chuckles. “No more than Johnny ever does. I’m glad you came. Lookin’ forward to the next one.”

You heart skips as you nod. “Me too.”

John leans forward just as your driver pulls up, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. Your back stiffens and your stomach flutters - face hot as he pulls away.

“See you at the shop.” He nods, sauntering back into the building like he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

Bonus:

“No, ye need an oil cleanser first.” Johnny slurs. “Tha’s how ye get the - hic - the makeup off.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t teach you everythin’ you know about skin care y’muppet.” Kyle snipes back as he digs through the drawers under the counter.

“Workin’ on yer John impersonation, I see.” Johnny snickers. Kyle bats at his arm.

You just giggle, seated on the toilet in Kyle and Johnny’s shared bathroom and swaying back and forth. Simon leans in the doorway, watching as the two drunkenly try to help you get your makeup off. All three of you bursting out into another fit of giggles when Kyle squeezes your round cheeks to make a fish face. It occurs to him that he’s never seen you bare faced. None of them have. Not that you come in everyday with a full beat but even so, there’s something intimate about it. To him, at least. Something about you perched in their apartment, in his clothes, having Johnny smudge moisturizer over your face while Kyle braids your hair to keep it from tangling overnight.

The three of you fit together so well…

John puts on a stupid action movie. Something to distract everyone as you wind down and sober up before bed. You snuggle up to Johnny, unsurprisingly, tucking yourself under his arm with your head on his chest. He’s practically Pavlov’d you into constantly touching each other. Just like he did with the rest of them. He jumps a bit when you press your socked feet to his thigh, humming comfortably. There’s a stupid grin plastered across your face.

“Alright, off to bed with you.” John chuckles as you snore comfortably on Johnny’s chest. The Scot is equally asleep, your chests rising and falling in an asynchronous rhythm. John loops his arms under your back and knees, just as strong as he’s always been, carefully cradling you against his chest as he takes you to Simon’s room.

Simon follows, glancing sideways at your clothes in his dresser. You groan as John lowers you but don’t wake up - well and truly passed out.

Simon pauses for a moment before following John out, staring down at you. He’s no better than the others, the alcohol numbing his inhibitions. So, he reaches down, and swipes a thumb over your slightly parted lips. Just as soft as he thought…

He settles into John’s bed, the frame creaking under their combined weight. Neither of them are particularly slight, after all.

“Glad y’danced tonight.” John mutters, reaching over to turn off his lamp.

Simon just grunts.

“She’s good for you.”

“She’s good for us.” He blurts, immediately wanting to shove the words back down his throat.

To his surprise, John just nods, turning to sling an arm over Simon’s waist. “She is.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for enjoying this series with me, it means a ton! I’m sorry I’m not very good at responding to replies/asks but I really do love and appreciate you all!

Hope you’re pumped for the next part bc I am

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

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Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It’s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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cosmonauter · 9 days

Text

ahh, i hope you like it @liv-does-stuff !!

bestfriend james who has no boundaries with you!!

james potter thinks you are the best friend he's ever had. normally people tell him that he's too clingy, and they don't like him hanging around them all the time. and it's not a problem for him, but he just wants someone to let him hug and touch without being awkward about it.

so when you two met, he felt like the luckiest person on earth because you don't think it's weird when he hugs you from behind and kisses the top of your head.

you don't judge him for demanding cuddles and sleepovers at least two times a week. you even encourage him to be touchier!

his favourite thing to do with you is bathing together. since he's a headboy, he has unlimited access to the prefect's bathroom, which means that the two of you bathe together as often as possible.

he's especially excited to meet you today because he was informed about a new couple in school, and he really wants to gossip about it with you!

so while he is cleaning his bed of sirius' socks and peter's sweets, because you're sleeping over today, sirius decides to ask him a question, "are you meeting up with them again? don't you think it's a little weird that you guys bath at the same time in the same room, even though you're 'just friends'?"

"why would it be weird? they wash my back and i condition their hair for them. it's logical and they don't mind it aswell. it's actually really nice, and besides, don't act as if remus and you don't shower together!"

remus sighs, "james, sirius and i are in a relationship with eachother. aside from that, i totally agree with pads, it is weird that you take baths together. what's even weirder is you touching while being in said bath!"

"you guys just don't have the connection that my dove and i have. it's okay though, don't be sad about it! maybe one day you'll reach the same trust we have in each other.", james throws a towel over one shoulder and picks out a shirt for you to wear, and matching pants, so everyone you come across in the halls knows about your superior friendship (and that you're his, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even under torture).

"i'm going to the bath, padfoot don't eat anything on my bed, my dove complained about the crumbs last time, and i promised them to change that! they're sleeping with me today. bye bye!"

he closes the door before any of them can say anything and runs to the bathroom as fast as he can.

as soon as he arrives in the prefect bathroom, he already sees you taking off your clothes.

while you are struggling with unzipping your pants, he comes up behind you and grabs your waist, pulling you into an embrace. your naked back against his broad chest sends electric shocks down his body and he shivers against you and presses your body closer to his.

"jamie, can you help me with my zipper? it isn't moving any further and i can't get out of my pants like that."

james would do anything for you, if you never stopped looking at him with those puppy-eyes, "of course, sweetheart. stay still."

he moves his hand away for a moment to turn your body facing his. while his one hand moves towards your zipper, the other one steadying your body by holding your hip, he grins at you and you smile back up at him.

he tugs a few times, but the pants don't budge. you notice his forehead getting sweatier, so you suggest to "take off your shirt jamie, it's to hot in here for you to be wearing it!" while tugging it up his back a little.

he pulls it off and throws it to the side, giving you a grin, "if you wanted me naked, darling, you just had to ask."

you scrunch your brows together, "if i wanted you naked, you would already be.". he snorts, and keeps tugging at your jeans.

suddenly an idea blossoms in his head. what if your zipper got stuck on something from the inside of your pants. so, of course, he sticks his hand down your pants to find a little string, connected to your underwear, being held hostage by said zipper.

"darling, you just have to pull your trousers down together with your panties. see, just like that..", he slowly eases your trousers over your butt, enjoying the feeling of your body under his hands.

you shiver against him and moan out," thank you, jamie. i should've thought about that." you blush and hide your head in his chest.

"don't worry about it, my love. i'm happy to help you as much as you need.", he smiles down at you, while you start tugging down his zipper to take of his trousers.

as soon as they fall to the floor, james picks you up by your waist and throws you into the water.

" james, you idiot!!", you scream at him while trying to splash him with the water. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry angel! i'll jump in okay? will that make you happy?"

"they are definitely fucking, i'm telling you!"

"sirius, calm down! what if they hear you, huh?"

"oh come on remus, they wear matching pajamas and use silencing charms every single time they have a 'sleepover', they won't hear a thing, trust me!"

"you're right, love, but still."

"wormy, what do you think?"

"i think they're both idiots, who really don't get why it's so weird."

please tell me if i need to change something, or if you have some tips on getting better. i hope you enjoyed it :))

#best friend james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter #marauder era #marauders #marauders x reader

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msmk11 · 3 months

Note

Hiii!! I love your work so much and was wondering if you could do a poly marauders (and lily) x hufflepuff coded fem reader comfort fic 💛 maybe they are just having a bad day, being insecure and everyone tries there best to comfort her? thankyou (even if you decide not to)

Omg hi lovely! Thank you so much for the request. This is actually my first ever and I’m so excited and happy to write it for you! I hope it lives up to your standards - MK <3

Just Hold Me For Awhile

——————————————————————————

Poly!Marauders + Lily x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Cw: low self-esteem, hurt/comfort, sad/anxious reader

A/n: Baby’s first request! Ngl I rewrote this like three times, but now it finally feels genuine and I’m very happy with it. I hope you all enjoy :)

There is no evidence to confirm your fears besides the incessant voice inside your head.

You’re not good enough.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not funny enough.

You’re not pretty enough.

Eventually, they’re all going to leave you.

You are going to end up alone.

Deep down, you know none of these things are true. But reason is no match for your anxiety and the extraordinariness of each of your partners.

James- best Gryffindor chaser the team has had

in years.

Lily- number one in your class.

Remus- Casanova of Gryffindor tower.

Sirius- absolutely fearless in the face of adversity.

You- the ordinary Hufflepuff who just got lucky.

It consistently amazes you that you ended up in a relationship with these four bold, well-known, and well-liked Gryffindors. They all love you so much and you feel grateful that you get to love and be loved by them everyday.

But no matter how much love and care they give you, it cannot entirely soothe the deep-rooted feeling of inadequacy lurking within. You can’t help but sometimes feel out of place in your own relationship- not because your partners exclude you, but rather because your obvious ordinariness situates you outside their circular of extraordinariness.

It’s a feeling that’s lingered since the four first showed interest in you, but recently it’s been possessing you tenfold.

All these thoughts are racing around in your head as you sit at the foot of Sirius’ bed in the boys’ dormitory. Peter is off on a date, leaving you five with some much needed alone time. The moment is serene, with Sirius painting your nails a soft green, Lily braiding Sirius’ hair out of his face, Remus dangling over the edge talking to you three, and James on top of him, massaging his back.

The four are talking about some recent Hogwarts drama, so you’ve sort of zoned out of the conversation, only adding in commentary here or there.

“I mean, I’m so glad Pandora hexed him,” Lily says, “he totally deserved it.”

“I just never would’ve pinned her as the type of person to hex someone, with the way she’s so soft spoken and all,” Sirius replies.

“She does hang out with your brother and Junior though,” Remus reminds him.

“And Evan is her brother,” James adds with a laugh, “it’s in her blood. I just wish I could’ve seen Mulciber’s face.”

“It probably looked as dumb and stupid as always, if not more so,” Sirius jokes.

Everyone busts out laughing and you faintly chuckle through your anxiety-induced brain fog.

Someone taps the side of your cheek.

“Doll, you there?”

You jolt out of your trance and look at Sirius, “hmm? Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted anything else done to your nails.”

You briefly glance down at your perfectly manicured nails, “oh, uh, yeah. Perfect as always, my star.”

Remus reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “are you okay, dove? I feel like you’ve been awfully quiet today.”

You smile a little and wave him off, “oh yeah, fine. Just tired, Moons.”

“Wanna come take a nap, angel?” James asks sweetly, opening his arms.

Though you’re not actually that tired, it’s mainly just an excuse, you can’t pass up the offer from your cuddliest of boyfriends. You peck Sirius’ cheek as a thank you for doing your nails and then crawl onto James’ lap. You situate your head on his chest and curl up as he wraps his arms around you. His musky cologne eases the knots in your stomach a little and you try to focus on the steady beat of his heart.

“Better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You quietly hum in confirmation.

You keep your eyes closed all cuddled up with James as you listen to your partners quietly chat. Within minutes of your getting settled you sense movement on the bed. Remus shifts upwards to lay next to you and James- you can tell from the sudden increase in body heat- and you feel Sirius and Lily lay down at your feet.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of rough lips- Remus’ lips- against your forehead. Though he thinks you’re asleep, you hear him whisper, “get some rest, my sweet girl.”

Someone’s head falls on your knee and then you hear Lily’s voice, “she’s so pretty when she sleeps, isn’t she? All soft and peaceful.”

You recognize Sirius’ habitual stroking of your leg with his thumb as he adds, “I didn’t think she could get any softer or sweeter, but here we are.”

“Our angel,” James coos.

Though you suppose most would feel pretty lucky to hear these things about themselves, they only make you feel worse.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself for having four wonderful, caring, and loving partners, and you can’t even appreciate them because of your own self-loathing. You despise this nasty habit of self-sabotage, but you’re not sure how to break it.

As you lay there and listen to them say such nice things about you, you feel a lump grow in your throat and hot tears spring to your eyes. The tightness in your chest is near painful, and you need some relief.

You try to shift just the slightest- as if you’re just moving around in your sleep- to bury your head in James’ chest, out of everyone’s eyesight.

But once you let one tear drop, a whole rainstorm comes. You try and keep your sobs and sniffling quiet, but your hot, wet tears give you away to James.

“Angel?” James asks worriedly. He pulls you away from his chest to look at your face and sees the snotty, tear-stained mess you’ve become.

“Dove,” Remus pleads worriedly, “what’s wrong? What’s happened.”

Your sobs are too strong for you to respond and you can only shrug your shoulders. Your eyes are blinded by tears and you can’t see their faces, but you know they’re filled with concern and worry. To make them worry like this only causes you to cry harder.

You’re not really aware of what’s happening around you. All you know is one minute your in James’ arms, and the next in Sirius’. Sirius strokes your hair away from your face and holds you in his lap like a baby. He rocks you back and forth quietly, not saying anything at all.

It’s nice, not having to say anything and just crying. Even if you had the ability to speak through your tears, you don’t know that you could. There’s no easy way to describe your feelings of inadequacy, and no amount of ‘talking it out’ could ever just solve the problem either. So you just cry. Cry because you’re angry that you feel this way. Cry because you’re sad. Cry because you’re tired. Tired of not feeling like you’re ever enough. And you cry just because you can. Because you know that your partners will be there for you for as long as you need to cry.

And when the sobs finally quiet to a hiccup here or there, you appreciate that they give you silence to breathe and just process everything.

Lily stands and wanders off, coming back with a glass of water that she presses into your hands. You sip it gently before James takes it from you and sets it on the nightstand. Remus goes and grabs a hot washcloth, wiping your face oh so gently with a soft look in his brown eyes. Sirius hands you back to James- your most tactile partner- and settles again at your feet.

Then, with the most quiet and tender voice, Sirius asks you only one thing, “What do you need from us?”

“Just hold me for awhile.”

And so, like many days before, and hopefully every day after, you five pile into bed, reveling in each other’s warmth and security.

As you lay surrounded by your lovers, you know that even though those same lousy feelings continue to reside inside of you, you will figure it out. And when you’re ready to talk, or rant, or cry some more, your partners will be there.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #james potter x reader #james potter x you #the maruaders #remus lupin x reader #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x you #lily evans x you #lily evans x reader #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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deadghosy · 7 months

Text

HAZBIN HOTEL X ROBLOX NOOB! READER

prompt: your best friend John Doe hacked you into a universe where hell is much different in your mind

“OOF-” you said as you press the buttons on your ps5. A portal opens as blocky person with yellow skin exits out of the portal looking at you. “JD!” You said with a “:P” face. “noob…you get to get out the house more…” John Doe said with a static voice as he picked up your bloxy body and thrown you into a portal as you kept smiling

“:) yay I’m falling.” You said out loud as you felt yourself fall in the air. You fell but landed on your feet like always. You look around to see that it smell like must, ass, and most importantly fire. You walked around just smiling as demons and sinners looked as if you were some weirdo…..

You came across the hotel and applied for a job to be the schedule manager. You got a red outfit to match vaggie and Charlie as you grab a flat board and started to write who gets to do what.

Noob! Reader is the type to pull out a cannon out of fucking no where and fuck someone’s life up🦆(a/n: pinkie pie type shit)

I can see Alastor watching you do a r6 dance as he just looked at you weirdly with a strained smile. You literally said out loud “/E DANCE!” And started to dance 😭

Lucifer got scared because he accidentally let you dove off a roof…but you respawned with a blue force field around you making Lucifer think you were an angel.

You love the egg boiz as they love you too! You do color sheets with them as Pentious brings you guys some cookies like a mom💗

You had onetime pulled a chainsaw out because husk said he needed to get a haircut on his fur. You literally pullled it out of no while husk jolted looking at your crazed face as you reved it up.

“You said you needed a hair cut!!” “I SAID HAIR CUT! NOT END MY LIFE YOU FUCKER!” Husk yells back as you chase him smiling like “:D” with the chainsaw. It was giving scooby doo as you kept chasing him.

Lucifer would be weirded out with Noob as noob just sticks their tongue out like the :P face while Lucifer pokes you curious about your game like box body.

I imagine noob! Reader showing Charlie a picture of bacon hair boy who is doing orange justice in the back. “Oh is that your friend?” Charlie says with a nervous smile at how your friend’s hair literally looks like bacon or is. You nodded excitedly as you wave your phone happily at bacon hair boy.

You blasted “it’s raining tacos” outside of the Vee’s tower when learning your friends had opps in there. So you wanted to annoy them.

This lasted for 2 days until vaggie had found you and took you home as you screamed out the song LOUD AND PROUD

I can imagine Lucifer making you a duck hat that says “don’t duck with me!” It’s so cute 🦆

I headcannon noob!reader to be the most dangerous being in hell as they literally been to every other gun and fighting game of the roblox universe.

NOOB SOLOS‼️‼️🔥

You know those badass Roblox games with those cool combat moves? That’s what you use. 🤨

You grabbed a sinner’s face and run dragging their body in the ground with a smile. You lifted your arm and swing them around as they flew to who knows where as the crew behind you had an either shocked or entertained face.

One time Charlie and you were shopping in a mall and you peaked over the boarder to keep people from falling. “I wonder if I can die from this height.” “NOOB NO-” that’s when you had to get a kid leash on you anytime you go out with the staff.

It was a nice day as Angel was throwing knives to increase his skills. You walked by him curiously grabbing two knives and throwing them at the same time. Making it hit the bullseye as Angel looked at you shock.

“Whoa kid, how did you learn to do that?” Angel asked pulling out the knives you made in the bullseye. “I was murder once!” You said with a happy smile as you walked away. Angel dust has the most confused face ever(picture below)

I headcannon noob!reader to be like Kirby. So like noob pulls out a knife to be murder, and then they could pull out a gun as Sheriff✨🦆

“Pew pew pew” you said as you stood on the balcony of the hotel as you shot at random sinners. Alastor appeared behind you confused but laughs at the misery of the sinner running when a missed shot almost killed them.

One time Angel gave you a Tommy gun not suspecting you know how to use it….you literally started to blast sinners away-

You SHOT AN OLD LADY ALSO😨

yeah Angel never gave you his Tommy gun ever again.

As you stayed in hell, you didn’t know that you would be spied on by the angels as Adam laughs at how chaotic and naive you are.

You’re so use to bullshit in Roblox you just stand there like “🧍🏾” as shit goes on. Literally when Charlie was panicking when the extermination was due in 6 months

During a uno game you ate a card as husk was trying to win but forfeited in anger as you screamed out uno. Leaving the missing card out of your mouth….it got quiet so quick as husk chased after you.

Niffty finds you amazing as you both have crazed tendencies. You both literally cause made chaos around places 🤭

YOU USE YOUR ADOPT ME SCAMMING SKILLS TO SCAM PEOPLE 😭😭 I CAN SEE THIS

The overlords are confused when they see Lucifer bring you to a meeting for once. You just sat there eating a taco. “Ello.” You said waving your blocky arm at them.

When watching the horror movies with the crew, you don’t react at all with Alastor as you been in lots of horror games with that one guy named Guest…you miss home and him.

I headcannon that you once accidentally summoned John Doe because you sneezed and he literally stood there as you hugged him. The rest of the crew was confused thinking he was your brother.

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lushrue · 3 months

Text

thinking real heavy about phone sex with price while he’s deployed (afab!reader, nsfw under the cut, minors do not interact!!)

cw: mutual masturbation, very light breathplay, author has never written smut before 😅

you can hear it in his voice the minute he picks up the phone. he’s tense, frustrated, wired. he’s got this growly tone that you jokingly call his “grizzly bear voice.” it only comes out when too many somethings or somebodys have pissed him off, and that’s not uncommon when he’s out on a mission. he’s so passionate about what he does, one of the things that made you fall in love with him. so the least you can do is provide him with some relief, right?

“love,” you murmur into the phone, cutting off his rant about some recruit running off half-cocked and almost compromising their position. he sighs exasperatedly and you can almost hear him slumping back in his chair. “yeah, dove?” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. you smile despite his sour mood, determined to set him right again. “it sounds like you’re in need of some stress relief, hmm?”

you swear you hear him perk up. it was the trigger phrase the two of you had adopted after you had gotten particularly spontaneous and john almost got walked in on by one masked lieutenant. now, those words meant he was rushing to lock the door and set his phone to do not disturb. “i could use some, yeah,” he said, his voice low and husky. he’d already begun to chub up in his cargos, his palm pressing down on the firmness between his legs.

you smile, getting yourself into position as well. after all, it was only fun if you both got something out of it. you slid your shorts off and settled back against the pillows of your shared bed. “i thought you might say that,” you purred, your voice lowering to match his. “you’ve just been working so hard, lovie. and the days are so long, aren’t they? just so pent up and frustrated.”

the telltale sound of his belt buckle clinking meets your ears, followed by the rustling of fabric and a low groan from your boyfriend. “mmm…yeah, doll, ‘m all pent up,” he replied as he thumbed at his head, pre already leaking from the tip of his hard cock. his breath caught in his throat and you knew from that little hitch that he’d started. so you did too, your hand sliding below the waistband of your underwear to find that delicious little bud.

your fingers pinched at your clit, eliciting a gasp and breathy moan from you. you imagined the look on price’s face, the longing he no doubt had to be with you and replace your hands with his. just the thought of having him home in bed with you made your pussy clench, your breathing starting to speed up. his did too, starting to stroke himself slowly. you loved how he dragged sex out when he was home, but with so much distance between you, you’d almost prefer he dropped some of his characteristic restraint. he was a military man first and foremost, and that meant almost supernatural control over his body and its urges.

“touchin’ yourself, pet?” he asked, which you responded to with a whine and murmur of assent. words wouldn’t come to you at the moment. his chuckle sent shockwaves through you, the wet shlick of his hand barely audible through the tinny phone speaker. “good. tha’s my good girl. just keep on like that, keep makin’ y’rself feel good for me.” even thousands of miles away, he still managed to control you. it was scary and exhilarating all at once, the hold he had on you. price shifted on his cot, the pace of his strokes picking up as he shut his eyes and let his own personal porno play out in his head. he’d been with you long enough that he had your body memorized. he could see exactly how you looked sprawled out beneath him, face flushed and so eager for him. the image made him stiffen harder, if that was possible.

you obeyed, of course. you were his good girl after all. the sound of his heavy breathing was enough to get you going good, your chest heaving as the pleasure built in you. your fingers traveled lower, gathering your own slick on your fingers before pressing two inside. it wasn’t the stretch you needed and you whined, scissoring your digits to mimic the width john provided. you heard him coo condescendingly, a blush rising to your cheeks. “what’s the matter, sweet girl? your fingers not doin’ the trick?” you shook your head in reply before remembering he couldn’t see you. “nuh-uh,” you mumble, thrusting in and out in time with the sound of his strokes.

price groaned at the sound of your breathy voice, the way you got all high-pitched and squeaky when you were horny. “need you, i need you so bad,” you continued, putting the phone on speaker so that you could have both your hands free. you laid the phone on the pillow beside you, your now-unoccupied hand coming up to circle your throat. if you went far enough in your head, you could pretend that it was price’s thick palm pressing against your windpipe, squeezing your neck to give you the head rush you loved. “feels so much better when you do it.” that stroked his ego good, his nostrils flaring as his hand worked more furiously at his aching cock. god, the things he would do to you when he got home.

“you can do it, dove. come on, curl your fingers the way i do. hit that pretty little spot for me.” the moan you let out was all he needed to know you obeyed him. his hand tightened around himself, cum threatening to spill out of him right then and there. but he choked it back. he wanted this to play out just a little longer. “tha’s it, good girl,” he crooned, focusing in on your breathy whimpers. your fingers worked furiously, the pressure in your belly building as you got closer and closer. “god, you sound like heaven. nothin’ sweeter in the world, love.”

his words carried you closer to the edge, each press of your fingertips against your g-spot sending a bolt of pleasure through you. your back arched, the phone slipping down off the pillow to be closer to your hips. with this new position, he could hear how wet you were, the sound of you delicious in his ear. he groaned, deciding to just give in. he wouldn’t last long with those sounds in his head. “come on, dove, need ya to cum for me,” he breathed out, the wet sounds of him stroking his cock resuming. “wanna do it together. give it to me, baby, i know ya can.”

his encouragement helped, your arousal pulling taut like a rubber band. it was ready to snap, you could feel it. your fingers set a relentless pace, abusing your pussy as the heel of your palm pressed against your clit. “john! john, fuck, i’m gonna-” “i know you are, sweet girl. go ahead, cum for me.” and you did, hard. stars exploded behind your eyelids, low groans echoing in the empty bedroom as you worked yourself through it. the sound of your boyfriend, your captain, finding his own release reached your ears from where your phone sat against the plush of your ass. you picked it up, your breathing heavy as you came back down to earth together. price flopped back down on his cot, a hand over his chest as he willed his racing heart to slow. he was getting too old for this shit.

“good, baby? feel better now?” you asked, taking a moment to relax before cleaning up. you heard him sigh, the sound one of contentedness rather than exasperation like it’d been before. “yeah, dove. you always know just how to make me feel good.” that makes you smile, blinking slowly as you sink into the mattress. “miss you, john.”

“miss you too, lovie.”

constructive criticism greatly appreciated, i wanna write more of this type of stuff but i am very inexperienced when it comes to writing smut!!

#call of duty #cod #cod fic #captain john price #captain price #john price #john price x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #john price smut #price smut #price x reader #john price x you

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moonstruckme · 11 months

Note

Hey darling x I hope youre doing well 🩷 I have a really cute maruaders idea if it sparks any inspiration.

Reader who always wears ruffle socks, or the ones with the big bows on the back, no matter the aesthetic shes got going on for the day and the boys are living for it. Like theyd notice when shes gotten a new pair and just melt when she pairs/matches them with one of the boys shirts/jumpers shes wearing.

Anyway, love you bub. You deserve everything and more x

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!! Love you too (and you deserve the most!) <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 520 words

“Sweetness, key to my heart.” Sirius sidles up to you on the edge of your bed, holding a pair of silver socks in his hand. “Wanna wear these ones today?”

You hold up the balled socks you’ve already chosen. “I was gonna wear these blue ones,” you say.

He purses his lips. “I just don’t think those are the way to go.”

“But these have bows,” you say bemusedly. “I thought you like ones with bows.”

Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, he’s hit with a balled-up shirt.

“Oi!” He looks around, and James, shirtless, looks too. “Did you just throw a shirt at me?”

“Of course not,” James says. “But actually, would you mind tossing it back?” Sirius does, clearly aiming for his head. James snatches it from the air with ease. “Anyway, don’t listen to him, angel. He's just being a prick because he wants you to match his shirt.”

You look over, and Sirius is indeed wearing a gray shirt that would go well with your silver ruffle socks. Both of them rather complement his eyes, actually.

“You’re welcome to wear them, Siri,” you offer.

Sirius pouts, albeit fondly. “S’more fun when we’re matching,” he whines.

You soften, more so when he sets his head on your shoulder, sighing pitifully. “Okay,” you say, smiling when he perks up instantly, “I don’t have any gray tops, but if you lend me one of yours I can wear the socks and we’ll match.”

“Dove,” Remus moans as Sirius kisses you happily on the cheek, springing up to go look in the closet. “You give in so easily.”

“Yeah, you can’t!” James says, and you notice that the shirt he’s put on is blue to match yours.

"Aww," you say.

“Aww,” Sirius mocks, smirking at James as he brings you his shirt. You hesitate, and he tugs at the hem of your top, trying to bring it over your head.

James smacks at his hands—“don’t undress her, you pervert”—as Remus makes a sound of agitation that you suspect covers amusement, beginning to dig through his side of the closet.

You’re laughing, having succeeded in keeping your top on only for Sirius to start trying to wrestle his favored pair of socks onto your feet, when Remus returns, one of his sweaters in hand.

“Alright, enough.” He rolls his eyes, passing the sweater to James. “There, now she and Sirius can match, and you and I can match. Sound fair?”

James lights up, and Sirius huffs, hauling your foot up against his chest possessively. “Fine. I see the way it is, Moony.”

“I’ll change into your shirt,” you promise, wriggling in his hold, “but if you hold onto my foot a second longer, I’ll never be able to look at you again.”

You make a horrified sound as Sirius grips your foot tighter, pressing an obstinate kiss to the side of your ankle, before releasing you. “Alright, lovely, put those pretty socks on.”

“Don’t have any that are gray and with bows, do you?” Remus asks. You look at him, and he shrugs. “What? I like the ones with bows too.”

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mytheoristavenue · 3 months

Text

MHA Fumikage Tokoyami x Reader x Dark Shadow 🍋 - Curiosity Killed the Crow

Summary: This was your fault for asking too many questions, really. You and Tokoyami had been dating for several months now and it had crossed your mind to ask: did that make Dark Shadow your boyfriend too?

Warnings: porn with plot, selfcest, fem!reader, tokoyami x reader x dark shadow, poly relationship, cum eating, fingering, fish hooking, oral fixation, dirty talk, threesome, masterbation

The question had caught him off guard when you'd asked it so nonchalantly. "Hey so...is Dark Shadow part of oyu or like, a separate entity?"

"I like to think of him as a separate being, we just share the same body and soul." Tokoyami replied, briefly glancing up at you from the book he was reading on the couch. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," you lied, chopping up vegetables for dinner. "Just crossed my mind the other day while I was at work."

"Well, I hope that answer is sufficient." He nodded, setting the book down and standing up to join you in the kitchen. "Anything else on your mind, dove?"

"I was just wondering... does that make me Dark Shadow's girlfriend too?" you pondered, missing how he froze behind you. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I-I'm not sure, to be quite honest." He answered, glancing away awkwardly. "Do you want it to be that way?"

"I don't guess I'd be opposed to it," you shrugged, not giving it the same level of thought as he was. "Does he even have senses like that?"

"I don't know," he repeated, distracting his racing thoughts by putting away the dishes you'd washed before starting dinner. "He has likes and dislikes, he can feel pain and pleasure, so..."

"You mean like sexual pleasure?" you blurted so nonchalantly it gave him chills. "Or like the pleasure you get from eating something tasty? I know he likes sweets."

"I-I really don't know, dove." he blushed, unsure of how to answer any of your questions. "I've never asked and he's never told me so..."

"I'm sorry, 'Yami," you apologized sheepishly, giving him a sympathetic grin. "I didn't mean to make it weird, we can drop it."

-----

Needless to say, for the next week, your questioning riled Tokoyami up significantly, and he could feel his other half stir within him. After an admittedly quite awkward conversation with the entity, he promised himself the matter would get sorted when you came to his apartment for the night next.

-----

"Hey, Toko, I'm here!" you called, slipping into the apartment, and kicking the door behind you as your hands were full. "I picked up dinner on the way home, hope you're in the mood for pork cutlet!"

You blinked at the stillness of the apartment as you set everything down on the island, kicking out of your shoes by the door before heading deeper inside. "'Yami?" you called out, inching toward the bedroom, freezing in the doorway.

His bedroom was barely different from how it typically was, aglow with ambient candles and soft purple neon lights, gothic music playing quietly from a record player in the corner. What was different was the way he lounged on the bed, fully clothed, but scandalous way, void colored button up undone to his toned stomach with silver chains hanging against his chest. He wore matching slacks and polished loafers, much to your surprise. Tokoyami was typically such a stickler for not wearing shoes indoors, which meant he was wearing them, for a reason. He was dressed up for you, presenting his best self like all birds do.

The part of his peacocking that really intrigued you, however was how his vermillion stare never left you, seemingly trained on you before you'd even arrived. That and the way his calloused hand palmed his crotch, painted nails getting lost in the inky shadows on his slacks, and thick pewter watch catching the moonlight. "Welcome home, my dove."

"T-Tokoyami...?" you stuttered, knees quaking as you waited in the doorway like a deer stuck in the high beams of a truck. "W-What are you...?"

"Come forth, my love," he beckoned poetically, prompting your to naturally gravitate towards him. "How was work?" He asked, ignoring you, simply pulling you into him gently, making you sit down with him, rubbing your shoulders. "Hard day?"

"I-It was fine..." you replied, melting at his touch, moaning as he worked the knots from your neck. "I brought dinner... I didn't feel like cooking so I got us something on the way."

"So generous, my lark," He cooed, nuzzling his beak into hair, preening your locks. "Always thinking of others..."

"I-I guess..." you shrugged, embarrassed of the sudden praise, tickled slightly when his beak dragged against your nape.

"Such a sweet darling," your boyfriend hummed, grooming you lovingly. "We've missed you so much this week..."

"Raven..." you whispered, melting against him before tensing once more. "W-We? D-Did you invite someone else over?" you asked, the color draining from your face. "I-I don't know if I'm comfortable with-"

"Dark Shadow and I have been... talking about what you asked last week." He finally confessed, fingers running through your hair. "And we both agree that, if it were the will of her highness..." he smirked, nudging you from behind. "We'd like to share..."

You were speechless, wondering if this was real or a fantasy come to life. You had to admit, you'd always thought of his quirk being involved but you never thought it'd even be on the table, let alone handed to you on a silver platter. "Of course, the decision is yours, my lark."

"A-Alright..." you finally piped up, nodding. "I-I'd like to try..."

Tokoyami released a low, dark chuckle into your ear as his other half began to materialize from his back. "Divine..."

-----

"Fumi, look how she squirms..." Dark Shadow squealed with delight, abyssal claws squeezing your wrists as he pinned you to the bed. "So cute..."

"Don't tell me," Tokoyami laughed from between your thighs. "Tell her, she's yours now too, you know."

"Right, I keep forgetting..." The entity purred, face dipping into the crook of your neck, nipping at your flesh. "You're so, so cute, baby..." You writhed under their touch, Tokoyami's fingers working on digging an orgasm out of your core as he nipped softly at your plush thighs, coupled with Dark Shadow's relentless teasing. It was entirely too much for you and neither one of them seemed to care.

"A-Ah, fuck..." you cried, overstimulated tears slipping down your cheeks and being absorbed by the shadow as your hips bucked upwards against your first lover's face.

"Keep going, Fumi," the staticky voice teased. "I think she might cum right into your hand."

"You think she could?" Tokoyami replied, digging deeper, curled fingers grazing that special spot that made you see stars.

"Mhm," the abyss chirped against your throat, working his way down to your naked chest. Clawed hands settled on your upper stomach, shaking up and down as he giggled at the way your breasts bounced on your ribcage. "Can you do that, pretty girl? Can you cum on Fumi's hand for us?"

"T-Trying-!" you shrieked through gritted teeth. "W-Wanna so bad, Shadow!" Both of your boyfriends shivered at your words, reveling in your willingness to call the quirk out specifically by name. Your blissful cries made him feel so individual, like his own separate person.

"C'mon, princess, you can do it," Dark Shadow purred, indigo teeth nibbling at your earlobe as he talked you through it. "You like getting fucked on Fumi's fingers, don't you?" you simply nodded in response, mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut as you chased your orgasm. "Oh, baby, I know you do. Look how well she takes your abuse, Fumi."

You couldn't take it anymore, vision going white as an embarrassingly lewd, cracky scream ripped from your drooly and kiss bitten lips. "That's it, dove," Tokoyami sighed, sore fingers never faltering through the strain as your hips rolled against them. "Ride it out, there you go, such a good girl for us."

"There she is," Shadow commented with delight, taking in the way your body quaked and face distorted. "Right into his hand, so perfect, yeah, baby..." He praised, pressing his beak to your forehead as a reward for hold out for him.

-----

"Shhh, we'll be gentle," the entity promised, wrapping around your torso so you could lean your back to his chest as Tokoyami kneeled over you both. "We'll do all the work, you just gotta lay here and take it, 'kay, sweetness?" You nodded, exhausted, looking up at the crow with droopy eyes. The way he stroked himself looked delicious, but having just come down from your own high, you were in no kind of shape to savor it.

You laid limp in Dark Shadow's arms, his abyssal claws kneading at your breast while his beak nipped into your shoulder from behind. "You look so divine, my love..." the raven cooed down to you, ruby eyes begging you for satisfaction. "Doesn't she, Shadow?"

"So pretty, so soft..." the entity answered with a soft chuckle. "Especially these titties and this tummy..." he added, groping the excess on your body. "Love having all this in my hands..."

Humiliation, exhaustion, and overstimulation dropped your chin to your collarbone, tearing away the sweet eye contact that had your pro hero boyfriend on the ropes. "No, darling, look at me, please..." he begged, having been well on his way. "Shadow, help her..."

Delighted to help, clawed hands roamed up your body, one settling under your chin to keep your head up, and the other settled in your hair, gently clenching a fistful to angle your head properly. "Awe, I know you're sleepy, sweets, but you have to help Fumi get there too. You wanna be a good girl, don't you?"

"M-Mhm..." was all you could choke out, mouth hung open as he squeezed your cheeks together. Your eyes fluttered open to see Tokoyami unravelling above you, his head falling back in bliss before returning his gaze back to you.

"Fuck, yes, light, that's it..." he sighed, fucking into his hand, leaning his pelvis in closer. It was this, coupled with the way Shadow's hands shifted to cup your cheeks, that made you realize what they wanted.

"Stick out that cute little tongue..." The abyss ordered playfully, pinching the tip of it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out further. "So slobbery..." he mused, letting it go as he reached out to his host, who licked your saliva off his fingertips.

"A-Ah, fuck-!" Tokoyami grunted sharply, overcoming another wall, bringing him closer to climax. "O-Open up, lark..."

Dark Shadow's two index fingers then hooked into your cheeks like he was catching a fish, using his knuckles to force your top jaw wide while his middle fingers did the same to the bottom. "Say 'ahhh'..." he purred into your ear.

"A-Ahhh!" you tried to mimic, cheeks burning at how the thing laughed at your pathetic, muffled attempt.

"Say 'Please, Fumi, cum on my tongue!'" Shadow continued, relishing in how he position he had your mouth in made your tongue flop out, dripping drool into the spaces between your fingers.

"P-Pleash ch-cum on my chongue!" you slurred, love drunk and needy.

Suddenly, Tokoyami let out a pained grunt, leaning in close as his hips jerked against his closed fist. "A-As you... w-wish, my dove!" he cried as ropes shot out of his swollen bell, landing in your hair and on your face, tits, and tongue.

"Good job, Fumi," Shadow praised, petting your hair soothingly. "And you did so perfectly catching as much as you could, princess." he dragged his fingers across your tongue to remove as much of his host's seed as he could. "Taste good, baby?" You nodded, reveling in the icky feeling of jizz congealing in your lashes, preparing to swallow what of the load made it into your mouth. "Ah ah, don't you swallow that."

Your first lover leaned forward, head tilted and tongue out before he met your lips, initiating a tired but needy make-out that was all slobber and see and tongue as he tried to avoid poking his sharp beak into your plush lips. Before you could even realize what was happening, Tokoyami had eaten his own cum from your mouth, or as much of it as he could.

"How was that, Fumi?" The more playful partner chirped, wiping his hands off on your tummy.

"Divine..." The other heaved, collapsing next to you, pulling your in close.

"Playtime's over?" Shadow asked, a bit saddened to have not been able to climax himself, but then again, he didn't have the ability.

"For now, friend..." the host replied, barely conscious as you were already beginning to drift off. "I-I promise next time, you'll be more involved. We can work on seeing what you can really do in the future..." he swore as his soulmate began to dissipate back within himself, feeling a bit guilty for having all the fun.

"Can't wait to play with sweets again," the entity accepted, now almost totally absorbed into Tokoyami's back. "Goodnight, baby, I love you..."

The crow could help but feel his heart swell at the small confession. Although you'd only been dating for a few months, he had already long since decided he wanted you to be his wife one day, and knowing you and the other part of himself were falling in love meant everything to him. It was a brand new level of acceptance he never thought possible. He had known you were the one but this night only resolidified his belief in that.

"Goodnight, my light..." He purred softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he snuggled up with you. "I-" He suddenly paused before smiling serenely at you. "We... love you to death and beyond."

#mha #mha smut #tokoyami smut #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fumikage #fumikage tokoyami #dark shadow x reader #tokoyami x reader x dark shadow #tokoyami x reader x dark shadow smut

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moondirti · 5 months

Text

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

#tldr: what if big man falls for girl who wants nothing to do with him #revolutionary i know #simon riley #ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #x reader #tw stalking #tw noncon #ddne #simon 'ghost' riley x reader

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

Note

Hi there I go by Voidless! (She/Her or They/Them). I'm in search of a romantic matchup for the TWST boys.

● I tend to be forthright with my emotions, yet there's this current of sensitivity to rejection that I sometimes forget is there

● I like share knowledge and fun anecdotes! It can be rather forceful in conversations when I have something to say though.

● I think I may have some abandonment issues... There's this deep fear of not measuring up.

●A trait I'm not proud of is how often I say sorry. On some level I say it often so I can inspire pity and have people undeservingly go easy on me when I mess up. Yeah too late for apologies... ●Regardless I'm torn between a need to be recognized (taking my place in the sun), vs. and acknowledging a deep unsettling unmet want of love and security.

●That, and my sense of self is warped (it cycles through high-highs and low-lows). I have some unattainable goals I've to hinge my identity on in the past and couldn't seem to let go of, which also leads to a fear of failure.

According to UQuiz and some remarks that have resonated with me over the years:

"Captivating, like a fire."

"Airheaded and excitable, but posses a real serious side. A natural-born leader who takes charge when necessary (even, and *especially* under dire circumstances that cause others to crumble), a lot more cunning than you'd think. True blue and loyal. Would go to hell and back for their friends."

"Definitely makes people around think deeply and a bit too hard on grand, philosophical concepts but eh, they're better for it."

"Short and traumatized."

"Loves to share everything with a partner eternally curious, and hungers for knowledge. Seems to enjoy exchanging ideas and personal philosophies with others. Exceptionally buoyant, enthusiastic, and can even inspire in their communications."

"Drawn to the hidden layers of life, people, and situations. Highly observant and perceptive, too. Notices things others miss, especially emotional nuances and subtleties. Ability to understand human motivation and honesty."

"...Knows how to lift other people's spirits. Posseses big dreams."

● Hobbies: Anything under the sun! I'm a bit of a Renaissance woman and sincerely wish I could live forever to do everything. I love to sing and tell stories and invoke the imagination. I also write and enjoy the great outdoors and astronomy!

Less-so hobbies, but I also enjoy things like: Going to museums/planetariums/aquariums and interesting places, Learning new things, collecting cool rocks, having a good laugh, hiking, kayaking and playing videogames.

● In a relationship: I want one where we can be intimate emotionally and see every side of them as they see mine. My person shouldn’t be afraid to show their feelings and tell me how they feel. To thrive, I need someone who is very loving and always has your back.

Someone I can feel at home with and will uplift me. An adventure.

● How I love: I really try and take the time to learn about and understand those I love, give them my everything. Admittedly I'm very intense, and passionate, but I also love as powerfully. I'm easily excited, and feel things very deeply.

● I will not tolerate: Cruelty. I just can't take someone who wants to break my spirit.

● How I want to be loved: Gotta say I'm a fan of Shakespearean/old-timey way of flirting - I want to feel cherished and special. I'm the world's most hopeless romantic.

● Astrological Profile: Libra Sun, Scorpio Moon, Capricorn Rising, Virgo Mercury and Libra Venus

● 4w5, ENFP

Hi Voidless! For your match-up, it seems you have captured the heart of...

Rook Hunt

Rook is perceptive, reassuring you that you can tell him anything and he will be there to listen; your heart is safe with him, and he will treat it with the utmost of care. He will stand by you, during your highest of highs, and your lowest of lows, but will also hold you accountable in a reassuring manner.

“Ma chérie, I see you, I hear you. I will always be here for you. You don’t need to be sorry,” he would say in a soft manner, looking at you with loving eyes. “Je t'adore.” He would also reveal the parts of himself that only you are able to see, not hiding anything from you; your heart is his, so his heart is yours.

He would listen to any and all of the things you know and anecdotes and would offer you back some of his own if you wanted. You and Rook could get lost in discussion; it could morph from talking about philosophical ponderings, telling each other stories, to the two of you just sitting there and then he would look at you, kiss your hand, and then place it on his heart.

Rook will make you feel loved in a soft yet intense way, matching your energy. He will look at you like you hung the moon and stars and will tell you as such. He too, is a hopeless romantic; this may or may not include him reciting an entire book of poetry that he dedicated to you, full of flowery phrases so sweet that they could give you cavities. He would also sing you sonnets, embodying the values of Shakespearian romance; turning it into an art to try and win your heart, a knight (or huntsman) in shining armour.

Speaking of stars, he has kept note of your interests and would surprise you with a night hike to the best observation area to look at the night sky together, looking up to the heavens together.

Other dates will be a combination of your and his interests; he loves seeing your face light up with curiosity and being with you. He will take note of anything that caught your fancy while out, and save it in his internal collage of moments that he holds dear.

If you want adventure in your life, look no further. He would love to make weekend getaways where it’s just you and him, a tent, and a kayak, exploring the world together. But he would also enjoy staying at home and having you show him some of your favourite video games and offering a friendly wager; regardless of if you win or he wins, he will serenade you, so it's a win-win situation.

Overall, Rook is a soft yet intense match, adoring you, and wanting to warm your heart and soul, much as the hearth would the home. As that is what you are for him; a flame that warms his very being.

"Mon amour pour toi est éternel, mon ange.~"

I hope you enjoyed this, and enjoy your Rook! He does indeed, have several books of poetry dedicated to you and there are more to come. He intends to make you melt.

#twst match-up #dove does match-ups #rook hunt #romantic match-ups

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annabelinlove · 4 months

Text

Tattoo

Pairing: Wolfstar x reader (Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Reader)

Summary: You wanted to get your first tattoo

Word Count: 2k

Notes: fluff, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, language, English isn’t my first language, lmk if I missed any

“I wanna get a tattoo,” you mumbled with food in you mouth, looking at your plate of spaghetti, but the boys didn’t seem to hear you. Sirius was too preoccupied inhaling his food and Remus was looking at him in bewilderment, he could never understand how he could eat like this and not suffocate himself.

“I’m sorry dove, what was that?” Remus turned his gaze to where you were sitting right in front of him. But before you could say anything he turned his attention back to Sirius. “Siri, you’re gonna choke, if you keep eating like this, my star,” he tried to get Sirius to stop but the boy in question just playfully winked at him and kept eating. You took a deep breath; you knew that it was now or never. You swallowed your bite and said out loud.

“I wanna get a tattoo.” That has finally gotten the boys attention. Sirius choked on his food and started coughing loudly, Remus just rolled his eyes, before patting his back and shooting him a look that said I told you so. When your boyfriend finally stopped coughing and could normally breathe, his whole attention went to you, as did Remus’.

“You wanna do what now?” He almost yelled, looking at you stunned, matching Remus’ expression. Both of them knew how much you loved their tattoos, how could they not, when you told them almost every day and you ogled them every time, they were visible. But neither of them had any idea you wanted one as well.

“I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time now, to be honest. I think it could look pretty and, well you know, badass. Plus, you look so cool with yours and I wanna be more like you, get out of my comfort zone as well,” you admitted shyly, not looking at them. Remus noticed your sheepishness and decided to approach it more calmly than his boyfriend.

“That sounds really lovely, sweets. But you know it’s gonna be permanent right? I don’t want you doing something you might regret. I’m all for getting out of your comfort zone but do it only if you’re really sure.” He said sweetly, but all he could think of was what design you’ve chosen, imagining wild things in his mind.

“Sirius has tattoos he regrets, and I bet you do too, so what if I do as well?” You asked, finally looking up from your plate but your gaze stayed on Sirius’ bicep, where he had Remus has a big dick tattooed. He doesn’t really remember getting it done, he just woke up one day, after a crazy party, with sore arm and a new tattoo. He blames James and Marlene for it. You know he secretly likes it (because it’s true) but regrets it because Remus gave him a really hard time about it, when he found out. He secretly likes it too and it boosts his ego, but he would never admit it.

“Sirius is an idiot who gets every stupid shit tattooed on his body. You can’t compare yourself to him, dove” Remus also looked at Sirius’ bicep, blushing a little bit.

“Heyy, you love my body with every stupid shit on it, and we all know it.” Sirius imitated him, playfully looking offended before continuing speaking. “Yes, I wish I didn’t get some tattoos done and that’s okay, I’m fine with it, we just don’t want you to make the same mistake. Especially with your first tattoo, that’s a big deal. You never forget your firsts.” Sirius winked at you, proud of his innuendo. You blushed, knowing damn well it was true, the memory of your first time with your boys came to your mind. You quickly blinked to get the image out of your head, looking at the smirking boys who knew exactly what you were thinking about.

“I’m not gonna regret it, I’ve gave it a lot of thoughts and I already know what I’m gonna get.” You smiled at the idea of you finally having a tattoo, just like your lovers.

“Okay then, I’m gonna book you with my favorite artist, he’s amazing and always does an amazing job” Sirius beamed at you.

“I thought I was your favorite artist.” Remus pouted at his boyfriend playfully. He was responsible for at least half of Sirius’ ink and Sirius was always bragging about it to everyone who cared to listen.

“And you are my love, I just think that your first tattoo should be done by a professional.” Sirius tried to defend himself, even tho he knew his boyfriend was only joking.

“Are you calling me unprofessional?” Remus teased him more, “And wasn’t your first tattoo done by James?” You added into the teasing, grinning wildly. Sirius gave you both the middle finger, rolling his eyes before continuing to eat, not having anything to defend himself with. Remus laughed loudly at his defeat, looking at him with love.

“I think that’s a good idea actually, to get it done in a professional salon. It could also make you feel more comfortable than one of us doing it.” He shrugged his shoulders, starting to eat as well, but in a much slower pace than his boyfriend, who stuffed his face with spaghetti again.

“I could never feel more comfortable with someone else than you, my loves,” you stated strongly, looking at them with big smile in my face. You were happy that they supported your decision and were happy for you.

———

True to his word, Sirius booked you with his tattoo artist and just in two weeks, you were walking to the salon, with your boys by your side. You couldn’t keep the excitement at bay, as you were almost skipping on the way. You couldn’t be more excited to have a tattoo on your own. People always saw your two boys with tattoos on almost every inch of their bodies, especially Sirius, and gave you weird looks when you admitted you didn’t have any. Now you could finally show them as well as have something new to bond over with Remus and Sirius. They kept asking you about the design you decided to have permanently inked on your body, but you were adamant on it being a surprise and didn’t show them, no matter how persistent they were.

They insisted on going to the salon with you and as you stepped inside, you were glad. The tattoo artist sat you down on a chair as he went to get everything sorted and the fear of needles suddenly hit you and you gripped both of their hands. Both of them immediately noticed and Remus placed a soothing hand on your cheek.

“Are you feeling okay, dovie?” He asked gently and rubbed your cheek soothingly. You swallowed the lump in your throat before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a tad bit nervous.” You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at their tattooed hands and wondering how much it had to hurt.

“You know, you don’t have to go through with it, if you’re not sure. We can walk out right this second.” Sirius lifted your chin so you could look o his serious expression.

“But I want to have a cool tattoo and be hot.” You whined slightly and Sirius’ eyes widened.

“Woman, your are the hottest person to ever live! You’re so hot, I can't believe we haven’t melted yet” He shrieked and in the corner of your eyes, you could see Remus rolling his eyes at Sirius’ loud proclamation but he smiled nonetheless.

“He’s right, you know? You’re smoking hot, with or without tattoos. If you don’t wanna do it, or you’re not sure, we can get out and you’d still be the hottest, more beautiful person to ever walk this earth.” He stated, giving you his most sincere look so you knew he wasn’t joking. You giggled, all the anxiety leaving your body.

“Thank you, but I’m sure. I wanna do this, I really do.” You breathed in and with that, the artist joined your and asked the boys to leave so he could tattoo in private. They both gave you a last look, silently asking if you were sure and when you gave them a nod and a big smile, they both kissed your cheeks and went to sit in the waiting room.

After an hour, the guy was wrapping up your new tattoo. The pain wasn’t even that bad, and the man was talking to you the whole time, helping you with distraction. You put on your (Remus’) sweater, not wanting the boys to see just yet, and went to the reception to pay and leave. He gave you a huge discount, thank to Sirius, and with a promise to see him soon, you left to get your lovers. The second you walked into the waiting room, Sirius jumped to his feet, rushing to you.

“Show me, show me, show me.” He begged like a little boy who is waiting to get a present. Remus walked slowly to the two of you and once again, placed a hand on your cheek.

“How are you feeling, sweets? Are you fine? Was the pain okay?” He asked, wanting to make sure you were okay. You smiled at them, the smile hurting your cheeks as you took both their hands in yours.

“I’m amazing. It was fine, didn’t hurt that much and we talked the whole time.” You calmed him down. Remus looked like he wanted to say something but Sirius jumped in.

“That’s amazing, love. Now show us!” He really looked like a kid, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I wanna show you when we get home.” Sirius looked like you took away his favorite toy, pouting. Remus laughed at him and went to the exit, holding the door open for you and your whining boyfriend.

“You’re killing me, you know that? I’ve been waiting for two whole weeks.” He trailed after you, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“See, you’ve waited for this long, you’re gonna survive the few extra minutes.” Remus gave him a kiss on the cheek, taking his hand and you all walked back to your shared apartment.

The second you arrived home, Sirius insisted you show them the tattoo. I’m gonna throw myself out the window if I don’t see it this second, were his exact words. Surprisingly, Remus agreed with him, proclaiming you’ve teased them long enough, with a smirk on his face. You took of the sweater as well as your shirt, taking a deep breath. You were a bit nervous about their reaction. Their eyes fell on your collarbones where the new tattoo laid.

Canis Major (the constellation Sirius was named after) on one side and the Lunar phase on the other. Both boys had their mouth wide open, staring at the ink on your body.

“Is- is it real?” Remus whispered, like he wasn’t with you at the salon. Both him and Sirius walked closer, wanting to have a better look. You nodded, too nervous at their silence to speak out loud.

“I can’t believe you did that.” He said quietly and softly, his eyes never leaving my collar bones.

“You don’t like it?” You asked meekly, scared that they hated it. Sirius whipped his head to look you in the eyes so quickly you were surprised he didn’t break his neck.

“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. It’s just..” he said but trailed off, fishing for words. He looked almost insulted when you suggested they didn’t like it.

“We absolutely love it, my sweet girl. We just can’t believe you’d tattoo something with a connection to us.” Remus added, looking at you gently, his eyes full of love. You looked at him in absolute shock.

“Of course I’d tattoo something with a connection to you. You’re my whole world.” Sirius and Remus looked at you like you hung the stars for them.

“And you are ours, our lovely girl. It’s fucking perfect, just like you. I couldn’t love you more.” Sirius said kissing you deeply, before passing you to Remus who did the same thing.

“I can’t believe you did that, my love. Thank you.” He leaned his forehead against yours, his love for you radiating off of him. You basked in their love before Sirius gasped loudly.

“Wait! You’ve let a stranger look and touch you without a shirt on?”

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batterygarden · 4 months

Text

blessed (satoru x fem & afab! reader)

contents: breeding cursed technique fic, dead dove do not eat! (reader's technique is basically for conceiving strong babies), arranged marriage, stockholm syndrome, he's your second cousin so incest, explicit nasty smut & breeding, mild daddy and mommy kink, pregnancy, misogynistic society, crybaby reader, satoru is sweet ultimately, ominous but happy ending, weird montage of sex scenes + the past + the present, 3.8 k words

18+ pls MDNI!

Divine fertility.

It’s gross—somewhere inside your brain (in a locked filing cabinet, underneath a false drawer and written in invisible ink), you’re conscious of the fact that it’s gross.

Your technique, its consequences, your life; everything you’ve been born unto is filth cloaked in blessings, but, on principle, you don’t allow yourself to look at things objectively. Disgust would only make things miserable and you’re designed to be happy.

Blessed with a cursed technique to conceive, you’ve always had a role and it’s never been disputable—one of producing heirs. Your life was planned from the moment you were born, a whole future tied in a neat little bow—you’re lucky. That’s what everyone’s always promised.

You’ve been told how happy you are so much that the words have seeped into your skull—you’ve long since found peace with Divine Fertility and what it means.

More than that.

You want to be bred so badly it aches.

You can’t go huge lengths of time untouched. You grow volatile when you’re empty too long, a weakness that chains you to your betrothed’s bed. But you’re most useful that way anyways. Hormonal and needy, but certain to pass your partner’s techniques—actually you’re more than useful as a clan member, you’re honored. Enough to marry the strongest man alive—your second cousin in your own clan.

Whether you’ve always known it or not, you’ve always lived for Gojo Satoru.

“Do not come in Ijichi—fuck! Not…not right now.”

Gojo stands a foot away from his bed when he says this, clothes half on while you kneel at his feet, sucking him absolutely dry. That’s as far as he was able to get this morning before you were trying to lure him back to you, looking up at him with giant, glassy eyes while you tugged the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t about to turn you down.

“Ngh your mouth feels so perfect. Wanna fuck it…”

You pull back with a gasp, catching air wherever you can get it with your fiancé’s suffocating girth, nodding while you pump him in your hands. Your lips are spread for him then so he can thrust through them himself, staring down at your teary eyes while he sets a rhythm down your throat.

You’re quickly gagging, he’s thick but also long and he’ll choke you if you’re not careful. But the relief he brings is worth it. Your craving for him didn't let up this morning even after a creampie and some cockwarming—this is just what you needed.

He throws his head back when he’s getting close, fingers gripping at your hair but careful not to tug, and he does this cute little whine that has your pussy throbbing. So you touch yourself, too—some fingers to your clit in little circles have you toppling over the edge just in time to match your fiancé, swallowing his milky cum while his last batch leaks down your thighs, mixed with your own release.

He’s panting when you pull away, eyes open but unfocused while the fog in his brain clears, his hand stroking your head absentmindedly. When he finally comes back to earth, he finds you’ve pulled his boxers up for him but remain clinging to his leg, squishing a cheek against his hip while fingers trace his inner thigh.

He breathes out a little hooo.

“Did so good for me, pretty. Okay. Now I really gotta go.”

He tries to take a step but you don’t budge, so he bends to see you better, making an expression of dumbfounded horror when he sees you’re crying.

“Hey, hey—I’ll be back! What’s with the tears!”

You sniffle while his big hands wipe at your face, frantic as he tries to make you better. Ijichi’s pacing footsteps are heard outside the door.

“I don’t know, it just feels so—sniff—bad when you leave sometimes! I still want more of you!”

Gojo frowns at that, rubbing your head some more. There’s a knock at the door which he ignores.

“Baby… I want more of you too, but you know I gotta go. No days off when you’re the strongest. Can you be my tough girl, just a few hours?”

You nod, your breaths calming. What is getting into you? Apparently your separation anxiety can’t even let your fiancé go to work without a break down. It takes you a minute to connect the dots and realize you’re likely ovulating—your hormones can make you a little crazy sometimes.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“My pretty baby wants to be a mommy so bad, huh?”

“I do! I really do, Satoru!” Your voice is a sob. Satoru has been going at it since the moment he came home today—told the maids to leave him alone, locked his door and folded you into the mattress.

“Gonna make me a daddy?” You clench automatically—just like Satoru knew you would.

“Ye—ah! Wanna have your babies, need to give you babies so bad, daddy!”

Your neck is craned as far back into the pillows as it can go, your entire body curling in ecstasy from your cousin’s heavy thrusting. Your words have his movements turning frantic, your legs folded up by his shoulders so your silver anklet with his name on it can jingle by his ear. Satoru lifts you then, utilizing his ridiculous strength and huge hands to pull your hips higher where his cock can split you easier. He starts hitting so deep you see stars.

Your head tends to scramble and slow when he fucks you like this, eyes barely open, blindly clinging to the man you were born to cling to while he makes a home for himself near your womb. It’s hard to focus on him like you want to, but if you did you’d see eyes drunk on lust and power…

Satoru Gojo can be a greedy man. Spoiled, too—He usually already owns what he covets and never waits long for things he doesn’t. But even the world at his fingertips, you at his fingertips, doesn’t fully sait that want like most would expect. For example, as much as Satoru owns you, he doesn’t feel he really has you until your body’s fucked out of commission in his grip, eyes blank and stupid while your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything he has.

This is when he’s got you, he thinks. This is when you’re his, like putty in his fingers, warmed up and malleable. This is when everything’s how it’s really supposed to be.

The two of you don’t come out of satoru’s room the entire rest of the night, except when Satoru darts his hands out of his doorway to grab trays of food the servants dropped by. It’s exhausting the way you’re used, body split and bent and bruised so that satoru’s seed can take root, but it’s also addicting. You beg for more of him, latch any remaining strength onto his limbs while you cry out his name. Satoru’s cock is addictive in a natural way—stronger than any drugs. Your betrothed’s cock is addicting like food and water and air… sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today marks the day you’re officially seven months pregnant.

Despite the fact that your technique has you strong and glowing (this is what you were made for, everyone continues to insist), you spend much of your time in mild discomfort. You get the feeling satoru’s passed his ridiculously long legs to his baby, who’s adamant in kicking you constantly, plus your lower back is often sore.

Still, you go about your daily life as normal—lounging, eating, making infinite baby preparations and, of course, waiting for satoru to come home so he can fuck you.

Lately your husband is the ultimate harbinger of gifts and treats—your pregnancy has been the opposite of helpful towards satoru’s impulse spending habits, not that it’s too great a concern with the family’s bottomless wealth. He rarely comes home empty handed. Today, he’s brought a teensy yellow beanie he apparently stumbled upon at a shop and some artisan ikigai strawberries—a favorite of yours amidst pregnancy cravings—satoru’s encouraging his child’s expensive taste that’s for sure.

You’re currently spooning in bed to enjoy them, watching a cheesy hallmark movie while satoru feeds you bites—he’s focusing much more on you than the movie.

Honestly, he doesn’t seem to focus on much else when he’s home at all… he finds pregnant you to be more than captivating. It’s like he could watch you day and night, doing the most mundane tasks to nothing at all—in his own words he’s fascinated by how precious you manage to be. Eyes following you like you’re the most engrossing little thing, cooing to himself when you’re particularly cute. It reminds you of how you used to treat your pet cat growing up.

You’ve gotten used to the excessive attention and coddling—it’s not like you’d ever mind a little clinging, nor was satoru’s babying completely foreign in the first place. So you let him feed you without comment, enjoy his hands wandering over your belly and curves without fanfare.

This process quickly gets messy though; red juice keeps dripping from the corner of your mouth towards your pillow only to be saved in the nick of time by satoru’s quick fingers, reaching around to wipe at your cheek again and again, having you lick his fingers clean for him each time he does. Things get even messier once he gets the bright idea to split each berry, biting before offering you the other half.

“I like sharing with you, this way neither of us miss the best ones.” He says with his mouth partially full, reaching down to pop part of a berry into your mouth. You hum, mostly engrossed in your film, managing not to drool this time.

But the next bite of berry he performs directly over your neck, dripping juice directly onto your skin when he does.

“Hey!” You start to turn but he holds you in place on your side, darting down to lick up the spill with his tongue.

You whine when he does, sensitive skin set ablaze by your lover’s mouth.

The movie is forgotten when things easily pick up from there—things easily pick up between the two of you, period. It’s not even your first time having sex today, you took his cock first thing in the morning after a particularly needy grinding display.

But this time it’s extra slow, extra attentive—like Gojo’s savoring you to the fullest extent. The berries are an added component, dripping sweet juice on your skin once gojo fully undresses you, only for him to lick and suck and kiss you clean. Your pussy has his attention then for what feels like eternity, your husband’s soft lips kissing and kissing and kissing like he needs to clean your juices there too. You cum so easily—you always have, but pregnant and sensitive like this your rate is almost ridiculous. Satoru, adoring as he’s been lately, doesn’t even tease, just savors. Dotes and flexes his cuteness aggression through his careful arms. He’s cautious with that—his urge to squeeze you—thinks he ought to get a medal for the self control he has to be soft. He caresses and pets like you’re a newborn yourself, fucking you just as thoughtfully.

You’d only been alive ten short months the day the earth shifted upon Satoru’s birth. Of course you don’t remember it, but you know intimately well the way your own path was no exception to his influence. You were already confirmed to have a fertility technique, almost as rare as the six eyes themselves, when the strongest sorcerer of your time was born—the match up was obvious. You were groomed for it until his parents said yes, and then only more intensely once they did.

And as much as you love Satoru, as much as you’d live for him and die for him and anything in between—it was sometimes hard. You had to grow to love him, to accept his power over you.

Because among the list of cons to a lifetime betrothal—a lifetime of devotion in your case—was that Satoru always knew you were his. You had an owner at the ripe age of seven, aged six and a half.

And, unbelievable as it may be in hindsight, at times he was a tyrant.

Tugging and clinging and pushing—at first he had as much respect for you as a child might for a cheap toy (the kind their well-off parents taught them were replaceable).

And there wasn’t much you could do about it besides grieve and sulk—your parents didn’t let you talk back how you wanted, and Satoru wasn’t above tattling.

You didn’t dare wish for a different husband—what with how lucky everyone insisted you were, but at times you’d wonder. What would it be like to be assigned someone polite and thoughtful, like satoru’s friend he brought around the estate from time to time…

Suguru never really got to know you enough to form an opinion on your character. It was rare he visited the extravagant Gojo estate in the first place, and when he did, Satoru often gave the impression that he wanted to keep you private. It was clear you were a permanent fixture on those grounds—just another layer to Satoru’s mystifying lifestyle. You were a complete contrast to Suguru’s friend, all reserved and polite; the only thing you really inspired Geto to feel was pity.

Gojo was a little shit as a kid—still is in many ways—and sometimes even Geto himself couldn’t stand him. But Suguru’s always had a backbone. There was a reason he was capable of maintaining best friend status with the strongest sorcerer alive while others couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get close—and it’s that Geto knew how to tell Satoru off. He could see through Gojo’s dramatics and put him in his place—something you clearly had not mastered.

Geto saw your lenience first hand the first day Satoru tried to have the three of you hangout, watching in fascination as you protested, gave in, and then were immediately reprimanded for sneaking into a forbidden wing of the Gojo estate. Satoru got a mild scolding, a barely-there stern edge to the maid’s voice who caught the three of you—telling him that he knew better and that he had to think about his future wife’s safety as well as his own. You got a cold glare when the maid set sights on you, a tug of your wrist to your room where it was clear you’d go on to get a firm lesson on obedience.

Once you were gone, Suguru spoke to Satoru in a hushed tone. “I feel kinda bad your girlfriend’s getting locked up now. Aren’t you gonna do something?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, asshole!”

“You’re getting married someday. Same thing.”

“It’s totally different. But whatever, yeah, I feel a little bad too. Probably I’ll break her out of her room later,” Geto watched Gojo absentmindedly pick a fuzz off his shirt—not a care in the world before he perked up to add, “Right now let’s play tekken.”

And they did, but soon Geto brought you up again. This was the first time he’d met you, and really begun conceptualizing the situation Gojo was in—he couldn’t imagine being tied to someone like that at his ripe and girlfriend-less age of thirteen. The idea fascinated him.

“What’s it like, living with ___?”

“It’s fine,” Satoru sighed, going back and forth between different characters to try. “She’s annoying—got some needy physical touch technique so she’s always clinging to me in my sleep, it’s honestly creepy. But it’s fine.”

This took Geto moment to process…

“You sleep in the same bed?!” He put his controller down at that point, fully engrossed.

“Yeah, ‘cause of her technique she’s like, unable to sleep alone basically. It’s weird. But other than that she’s fine I guess—a little slow. Her parents won’t even put her in school.”

Suguru could think of so many questions he didn’t even know where to start.

But what stood out most was how Satoru remained calm about the whole thing, at peace even.

“Have you tried fighting it? Didn’t you say your mom does whatever you want? Tell her no.”

Satoru waved a lazy hand at Suguru before he even finished talking.

“That wouldn’t work, ___ would just get betrothed to someone else, then. Her parents really want that for her. ‘Sides, she’s mine, Y’know? Even if she’s a weirdo it’s not like I’d give her away.”

It’s been years now since Suguru Geto has seen you last—he hasn’t been back to the Gojo estate since before his enrollment in jujutsu tech. He’s changed a lot since his starry-eyed youth, and he vaguely wonders what it will be like to see you again, if you’ve changed as well; over the years he’s found that his friend prefers to bring you up as little as possible, so he hasn’t had many updates. Though his primary focus is on the man he’s escorting, a dizzy and bleeding Gojo Satoru who managed to get hit by a scorpion curse while they were messing around on their mission. Gojo insisted on heading home after, despite shoko’s offer to provide more thorough reversed technique than his own, frowning but easily relenting when Suguru insisted on at least helping him get there.

It’s late, not even staff around to notice as Suguru tugs Gojo along, supporting half the man’s weight through the threshold and fumbling to find light switches as he enters new rooms. But then you emerge, and Suguru can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when you do, this heavily pregnant girl in a frilly nightgown and bare feet, storming in with tears absolutely pouring down her face. After one heartfelt “Satoru!” you can’t manage to get out a single sentence you’re crying so hard, and Suguru watches the most mystifying thing: Satoru comforts you. His unserious asshole of a best friend (he thinks with fondness in his heart), a man who’s long since lost the will to show vulnerability in even the most gut-wrenching moments—Suguru watches as he meets you with this sympathetic, earnest frown on his face, crouching to let you hold him and mumbling little sorry’s.

Suguru isn’t sure what they’re for, but he does know that Satoru has never seriously apologized to him for anything in his life. He’s expressed regret, learned from some mistakes, sure. But the word sorry, as far as Suguru knew, wasn’t in Gojo’s vocabulary.

He says it a lot now, with this cooing voice that Suguru also finds foreign. He learns through some mumbled words you manage that your tears are from worry, that gojo promised he’d be home earlier and that he wasn’t answering his phone. Then your wails turn fresh when you notice gojo is bleeding.

“Baby this is literally nothing—“ Geto, who saw Gojo’s initial wound and can actually see the man swaying on his feet, almost chuckles. He saves it with a cough.

“—I basically already healed myself. You know nothing could ever happen to me.”

This makes you mad, Suguru can practically feel how your anger tinges the air.

“Satoru Gojo I do not know that and—hic—you’d do better to answer your phone next time!”

“Ahh yes ma’am, yes ma’am.”

That secret filing cabinet in your mind rattles from time to time when you reach your ninth month pregnant. You’ve somehow managed to stave off any ill second thoughts towards your fate till now, letting it hit you last minute like something you’ve been putting off. It’s not that you’re unready for motherhood—you’ve reached acceptance of what’s to come—but you’ve developed a slight fear of your own personal eternity being reached. Slight because you’re excellent at burying and vaulting—slight because you love satoru and your baby so deeply.

But around your nine month marker, sore and barely even able to fuck properly, your husband makes an off-handed remark. You’d just taken him on all fours, cumming so easily despite satoru’s unusually tame treatment, and were laying in the aftershocks with sticky thighs while satoru fetched you a warm washcloth. The bath water was also running loudly, so he had to speak up while he said, “I’m gonna look to see how soon an in-ground pool could be installed, bet it’d be good for your poor hips next time you’re pregnant.” He speaks while he opens up your legs, casually wiping your shared mess clean with a soft damp towel, like he has a million times.

Maybe you’re tired, maybe it’s his casual tone paired with such a ludicrous sentence, but the idea of buying a pool because of what should be temporary pregnancy ailments and the implication that you’ll have them again and again… it sends you in a spiral.

It’s not unusual for you to burst into tears with your wacky hormones—satoru’s seen your puffy crying face, especially while pregnant, more times than he could count. So he isn’t particularly alarmed when he sees the silent drops rolling down your cheeks when he returns from the laundry shoot a moment later. But he is concerned, crawling up the bed till he’s hovering to kiss your shoulder, scooting behind you to spoon your lightly shaking frame.

He doesn’t talk for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. He’s familiar with the tears, sure, but he knows he’s not an expert on them, sometimes he tries to talk to them when he shouldn’t and vice versa.

Eventually he settles on a little “I got you,” for comfort, his warm hands rubbing over your arms then your belly in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm.

You think about telling him your issues, your deepest secrets, but you deliberate too long. Soon he’s kissing you again, pressing lips in a slow trail up your shoulder and neck before switching directions.

“I love you,” he adds.

You won’t tell him. You love him, too. The uck and grime of it all gets buried once again, shoved in the section of your head that stays locked up with high security. You turn around and, instead of answering, capture his lips in a salty kiss, the kind that starts out soft and clumsy—sweet. It doesn’t take long for your lips to get needy though, for the sweetness to be replaced with aching. The kind that always spreads between your thighs.

Thanks for reading eeeek! feedback and rbs appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #tw.pregnancy #gojo satoru smut #tw.breeding #tw.incest #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo fic #🐞 writes

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 5 months

Text

Met His Match. || Soap MacTavish (Collab)

A collab with @crashtestbunny.

Find us on AO3!

Words: 3.5K~ Pairing: Sex Fiend!Reader x One Night Stand!Soap CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut smut smut, dubcon elements, unprotected piv, oral sex (f!receiving), public handjob (m!receiving), overstimulation, bathroom sex, sadism, dom/sub, rough sex, sub John "Soap" MacTavish, forced ejaculation, semi-public sex, whining, light exhibitionism, power play, dry orgasm. other tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, dating app, hook-up, one night stand, mean reader, exhaustion, walk of shame summary: Johnny gets fucked. a/n: Inspired loosely by my "It's a Match!" fic... but so much fucking worse. P.S. Not beta-read, we die like soap.

Friday night. 6 PM.

You just got home from work and after making yourself a quick meal, you threw yourself on the couch.

Reaching for your phone you click on the Tinder icon on your home screen and immediately begin swiping away at the men that come across your screen.

You're not being too picky. Still a bit picky, but not too much. It doesn't matter that much what they look like... so much as what you feel once you see their picture.

You're not on this app for the romance, after all. No.

You're tired and frustrated from your week and all you want is to fuck a man. In fact, you want to fuck a man so hard he leaves your flat in the morning looking (and feeling) like a cheap whore.

You'll know what kind of man you're in the mood for when you see him.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

That's when a man with the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen comes across your screen. You stop the mindless swiping immediately and just stare at him.

You can already imagine the way those blue eyes would look up at you from between your thighs, and how much better his face will look when they're glassy and he's covered in sweat and drooling down his chin...

Oh yeah, he's what you're looking for alright.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

If that bio is anything to go off of, he's also looking for something casual. After all, he mentions fingering and being ridden in the same paragraph. Perfect.

You Swipe Right on him and your phone immediately buzzes, announcing that you matched. Sweet.

Johnny texts you first. How... cute.

Johnny: hi beautiful x Johnny: how are you doing?

Oh, sweet summer child... what does he think this is? Small talk that'll lead onto a date?

You: doing good. You: how's your night looking?

It takes a minute before his reply comes.

Johnny: very free Johnny: wanna hook up?

There we go, Johnny-boy. That's the spirit.

You: would love that You: do you know that one bar around the corner from the post office? Johnny: of course You: meet there in an hour? Johnny: i'll be there Johnny: i'll be wearing blue

You can't help but chuckle... he won't be wearing much of anything soon enough.

Finding him at the bar is extremely easy because the bar is not packed, albeit still pretty busy. But that's not why you picked it. You picked it because it's only a short car ride from your flat.

Johnny is leaning on the bar, as promised, wearing a dark blue t-shirt, dark wash jeans, and a pair of simple black boots.

You approach him from behind, wearing a simple black dress. Not one of those flashy, slinky club types, just a regular dress. You know what you came here to get.

"Hey." You greet him casually and he turns to look at you, his hand wrapped around a lowball glass with some drink inside. It's clear... so either tequilla or vodka.

When he turns you realize three things immediately: 1) He lied about his height. He's definitely not 6ft tall, but 5ft10 at the most; 2) He's built like a brick shithouse, impossibly wide shoulders with large, beefy arms... So he wasn't lying about his 'Athletic' build; and 3) He has a fucking mohawk.

You can already imagine the way he'd look, your legs over his shoulders, as you squeezed his head between your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds... Fuck, you're horny.

"...nice. What are you drinking? I'll buy." You catch the end of what he said, the beginning probably a greeeting, and a compliment, and, now an offer of a drink.

You try to shrug casually and seem unbothered. You decide to humour him. If he wants to play the gentleman part and pretend this is a date, you can play along.

"Whiskey. Neat." You murmur in reply as you slot yourself next to him against the bar, your thigh brushing against his as he orders and pays for your drink.

"So, a soldier, huh? What's that like?" You muse as you take a sip of your drink, watching him take a sip of his, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Oh, how you'd love to wrap a hand around...

"I like it. Always ken I wanted to be one. Tried to sign early and everythin'. I like keepin' active and I'm good at what I do..."

He continued talking, but you tuned him out, eyes locked on his mouth, watching how his lips pushed and pulled for each word, his white teeth in a neat row behind and his wet tongue sometimes peeking out.

He talked a lot. He talked... too much.

"Let me cut you off right there." You interrupted him, causing him to shut his mouth and stare at you. "Care to have this conversation between my legs, gorgeous?"

Johnny stares at you with impossibly wide eyes, like what you just said is the most bizarre thing he's ever heard. His left brow, right below an obvious scar, twitches, a sign he's interested. "...When?" He asks in a murmur.

"Right now." You reply with a head tilt.

The blue-eyed Scot simply nods eagerly and knocks back the contents of his drink into his mouth.

"That's it... That's fucking it-" You croon as you buck your hips into his mouth, your back pressed against the wall, the hem of your dress curled up and tucked into the elastic band of your bra.

Johnny's on his knees on the floor of the cubicle, his tongue lapping at your slick cunt like he's a prisoner on death row and that's his last meal request and he insists on enjoying it.

One of his hands grips your right thigh, squeezing it and keeping it steady, the other alternating between rubbing your clit and going around the back of your hip to squeeze one of your arse cheeks, pulling you deeper into his mouth whenever he licks and sucks your clit.

His blue eyes are locked on yours and they look just as good as you had imagined they would as his moist tongue curls to gather some of your slick and swallow it down, to taste as much of it as he can.

He's such a fucking munch, his tongue parting your folds and diving as deep into your hole as he can get it, before sliding back up to meet your clit, giving it a greedy suck.

There's a smug smirk on his lips, even as they're buried in your cunny, and a chuckle falls from them too while he thrashes his head side to side like a dog playing tug-of-war, nearly blowing raspberries on your clit and causing you to squirm against him, more expletives falling from your mouth.

You know what he's thinking. He thinks he's in charge. He thinks he's doing a good job fucking you. Oh, how wrong he is. And you're about to show him that.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, sweetheart." You demand as you push his hands off your body and grab onto his stupid fucking mohawk with both hands like a handle to grind yourself against his face.

His eyes widen, but the sight of you using his mouth, his tongue, to get yourself off, hips bucking and dragging across his chin and tongue, lips and nose is enough to get him riled up.

He can't help himself, his hands finding a spot on the floor and his own legs spreading apart, allowing him to half-grind his clothed cock against the tile.

His head bobs eagerly against you, his nose buried in your mons, the flat of his tongue rubbing over your clit, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, crotch and folds.

Your legs are trembling on either side of his head, but you don't stop riding yourself against his tongue, your head falling back against the tiled wall behind you, the pitch of your voice getting higher and higher.

The way the flat of his tongue presses to your clit causes your whole body to shake, your skin warming up more and more to the touch. The coil in your stomach is getting tighter by the second and your breath, as well as your moans, are ragged and long.

Your hips buck and thrash and your head hangs low suddenly as your climax crashes onto you, leaving you breathing fast and deep, your eyes fluttering a bit as you look down to find Johnny kneeling between your thighs, his tongue still softly sliding upward, spreading your folds open and swallowing your come deep into his mouth.

"That's it, drink up, I'm not giving you water anytime soon, sweetheart." You tell him, noticing how his eyes have gone glassy, a wet spot having formed in his dark jeans.

Filthy mutt got off on having you fuck yourself on his tongue...

Having pulled Johnny off you and fixed your dress back into place, you called an Uber and then dragged the bulky man out of the bar by the hand, marching ahead of him toward the pavement, under a street lamp, to wait for your ride.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you guided your mouth up Johnny's chin toward his mouth, locking lips with him, your tongue seeking his out.

His beard and mouth are both still soaked with your come, he smells of it, and tastes of it too, and with each push and pull of your tongues as you seek each other out, you get more of a taste of yourself.

You only broke the kiss once the Uber arrived, your phone having pinged with a warning, and a car having pulled to the side of the road not far from the two of you.

You and Johnny piled in together and while he scooted all the way across the backseat toward the other door, you slid up next to him as you two greeted the driver.

You didn't bother with a seatbelt (neither did Johnny) and since the driver didn't seem too keen on chit-chat, you allowed yourself to drape a leg across Johnny's lap, while his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your fingers slid over his thigh toward the darkened patch of denim on his crotch, and, with your leg (and the music playing from the speakers) as cover, you slowly undid the fly and button.

"What are ye-" Johnny murmured as he glanced at you with raised brows and wide eyes, like an innocent little puppy.

"Sh-shh..." You hissed as you kissed his cheek, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, or an overly affectionate date, for your driver's sake, you slowly slid your fingers through the open zipper, fishing for his cock amidst the wet fabric of his boxer briefs.

The pretty boy was already at half-mast again, even after having already come once, and your hand quickly wrapped around it as you began stroking it.

Johnny thighs trembled and his legs kicked out a bit as he felt your warm hand wrap around his sensitive member, and he looked away, out of the window, eyelids fluttering, eyebrows scrunched, and a hard bite on his bottom lip.

His cock began steadily throbbing in your hand, hardening and growing more with each languid stroke of your hand around him. He's thick. Much thicker than you expected him to be. You can feel your fingers struggling to fully wrap around him.

Sliding your palm up, you slowly rub over the hooded tip, which draws a squeak from the back of his throat, his chest heaving, and his stomach being sucked in.

"Control yourself..." You whispered in his ear which, making sure to shoot a glance forward at the Uber driver, who seemed focus on the road.

In response, you received yet another soft groan and a hiss through clenched teeth, Johnny's head lulling toward you, his forehead leaning against your temple. "Feels... fuck... I can't... you're... ah-"

"Feels good?" You murmur in his ear as you kiss his bearded jaw lightly, feeling him buck a bit against your hand, causing your thigh to bounce on his lap.

"Hm... Mhm..." Johnny grunted. "Fuck... Steamin' Jesus..." He whined brokenly as your hand kept stroking his length fully, up and down, at a slow, languid pace.

You'd draw back the foreskin, exposing the bulbous head, before drawing it up again as your hand climbed up to rub against the tip for a moment, only to roll back down once more.

Whenever the car would drive past a street lamp, the yellow-toned light would flutter briefly over Johnny's exposed cock, and draw your attention right to his pink, bulbous tip, overstimulated and angry, leaking shiny beads of pre-cum.

"Sh-Shh..." You cooed at him again, enjoying the broken sounds of pleasure he'd let out through clenched teeth, the way his cock would throb and twitch in your hand, and how the muscular man next to you vibrated with tension.

Oh, how you loved to make men break under your hand, and, even more so, how much you loved to make men like him break. A soldier, a strong man, used to dominating... How silly of him to think he had any power here...

It takes little time for Johnny to suddenly twitch and thrash next to you, his breath picking up and becoming ragged and wet, like he's struggling to control himself into being quiet...

You look up at him just in time, finding the way his head falls back on the headrest of his seat, while he grunted under his breath and hissed through his teeth, again, and again, his eyes fluttering shut as he experienced a dry orgasm, only the tiniest beads of cum slipping down to your fingers right below the head.

Just in time too, because the Uber pulled over less than a minute later, the Uber driver looking back at you and Johnny. "We're here, Miss." He told you politely.

"Thank you, Jared. I'll be sure to leave you a 5-star rating and a good tip." You replied to the driver as you slipped your leg off Johnny's lap and scooted closer to the other door.

After opening the door, you turned again and grabbed Johnny by his shirt collar, your fingers hooking themselves onto the inside of it and grazing his dog tags hanging around his neck.

Smirking, you slip them from the confines of the shirt and then twirl the ball chain around your forefinger like a lead, pulling it taut, which causes Johnny to audibly whine.

"C'mon, Johnny." You ordered as you tugged him forward, causing him to scoot forward, ducking his head to follow you out of the car, his movements languid and slow, his head still cloudy from the recent orgasm.

"Fuck, yes! Fuck!" You whine, your head falling back, your hair sticking to your forehead and your nape.

"Steamin' fuckin' Jesus... Fuck..." Johnny groans, his own head rolling back on the mattress of your bed.

"Yes... Yes..." You grunt as you fix your grip on the bottom of his thighs, right before his knees, bouncing your ass off his lap.

Johnny's mouth is hanging open, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he lies on a puddle of his own sweat, every inch of his exposed, hairy torso glistening under the light of your bedside lamp.

You're both exhausted, your hands slippery on his sweaty thighs, your own sometimes shaking as you bounce on him again, and again.

Your pace is starting to become uncoordinated and sloppy because your legs are tired, your knees struggling to keep up and causing you to stutter atop him, driving his cock harder into you and deep against your cervix twice in a row.

It drives a desperate moan out of you both and you go still for a moment, feeling the sweat trickle down your brow.

"Fuck... C'mon..." Johnny whines and grabs you by the hip, attempting to rock his hips up against the cleft of your ass, helping pound into you...

Only for you to bounce up with him and then throw all your weight down onto him, causing his ass to be pinned back down onto the bed, and drawing a loud yowl of surprise as his cock barrels right against your cervix, sending a sting of pain up your spine.

Johnny looks up at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, seemingly horrified and confused.

Finding his eyes, you lean forward, pressing your hands onto his chest, before murmuring "Stay fucking still. This isn't about you."

"Sorry?" Johnny murmurs, whether in confusion or genuinely apology, you don't know.

"You're nothing more than a toy right now. And good toys don't talk." You warn him.

"I-" He stuttered, not fast enough to protest before you were moving atop him again, the new angle and slight pause having provided you with an extra burst of energy.

You rocked against him, keeping him buried down to the hilt and rubbing your sensitive clit against the bush at the base of his cock.

It makes you croon in delight, keeping up the same angle but becoming more and more frantic, rubbing yourself against his bush while keeping his shaft sheathed nice and deep in your weeping cunny.

Something about the warm wetness enveloping his already oversensitive cock, the sight of your face contorting in pleasure atop him, so close and yet so far, your hands pushing against his chest so he doesn't try to reach for you.

It drives him over the edge and he finds himself losing it, his big blue eyes fluttering and rolling, his jaw dropping and his every muscle straining as his head falls back, causing him to stiffen beneath you.

Out of breath, you lean your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of your release coming in the aftermath of his own, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you being the final nail in the coffin.

Johnny doesn't dare move as he feels your warm cunt squeeze around him, draining every last drop from his already reduced third orgasm, simply lying there, beneath you.

His mouth is hanging open, drier than the Sahara, every inch of him is slick with sweat and he's out of breath and his entire body is trembling ever so slightly as he closes his eyes in pure bliss.

Only for his eyes to shoot open again as he feels you start up again, your ass carefully bouncing off his sore thighs.

Johnny stumbles his way into the training room. It's 6 a.m. and he has not caught a fucking wink of sleep.

Unlike his normal hook-ups, after which he reports to base with a pep in his step and a smirk on his lips that no amount of push-ups, sit-ups and mile runs can wipe off...

This time, he's limping, every muscle of his feeling sore and stiff, his thighs feel like they're going to bruise up, his cock burns from how oversensitive it is...

He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't drunk water... and the closest thing to a shower he got was when you tossed him some wet wipes in the morning.

Unlike him, you had gotten up in the morning (aka after a 1.5 hour power nap) perfectly energized and like you hadn't spent half of the night riding him like a stallion you were trying to break...

Gaz is the first to notice Johnny's state as the Scot falls into formation with the rest of the unit, his eyes still sort of glassy. But he doesn't say anything... he simply raises a brow and smirks in amusement.

Ghost is standing by Price on the sidelines and notices next and, unlike Gaz, he chuckles at it and calls Price's attention to it. The Captain turns to look at Soap and has to contain the look of amused disappointment from showing on his face.

"Soap!" The Captain calls out, causing Soap to look over, nearly languidly and then approach, with Gaz following behind him, despite not having been called. He just... wanted in on the fun.

"The fuck happened to you, son? Did you get in a fight?" Price asks with a cocked brow, watching how the younger sergeant squirms and his tanned face grows warmer.

"N-No sir." Johnny replies and shakes his head, which causes him to wince, feeling light-headed.

"I think 'assaulted' would be a better word for it, Cap'n." Gaz chides, causing the Scot to huff and turn his head in frustration and embarrassment.

"Shut it, Garrick..." Soap murmurs, which earns a light chuckle from all the men, Ghost included.

"Go shower and take a nap. You're excused for this morning." Price tells the sergeant, causing the lad to nod thankfully and wander off, limping once more.

As he gets back to his barracks, he grabs his phone, typing out a quick message for you, thankful you insisted on giving him your number and taking his... Johnny secretly hoped that meant you wanted a repeat.

"Hope you're happy... Made me embarrass myself in the state I showed up to training in."

The reply he earned, however, was the most cold-hearted one he could've received... One he never even saw coming.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

Read Bunny's Work HERE

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #smut #johnny mactavish smut #johnny mactavish is a mutt #soap smut

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luveline · 6 months

Note

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers.

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking.

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.”

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.”

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks.

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says.

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.”

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does.

She grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You all done?”

“Yep.”

“Not hungry anymore?”

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.”

“Thanks, beautiful.”

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?”

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night.

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch.

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests.

“I’m tired.”

“It’s not bed time.”

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat.

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it.

“That sound fun or what?”

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder.

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.”

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.”

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask.

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns.

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided.

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids.

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday.

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now.

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily.

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.”

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.”

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter.

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!”

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says.

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?”

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.”

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says.

“I didn’t say one!”

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.”

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.”

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks.

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?”

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips.

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying.

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says.

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?”

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest.

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out.

“Oh, no,” Avery says.

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.”

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else.

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks.

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.”

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.”

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say.

“Gonna get Beth changed.”

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.”

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed.

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?”

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask.

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?”

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.”

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says.

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?”

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately.

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.”

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!”

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.”

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.”

“Sorry,” she laughs.

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?”

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player.

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?”

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs.

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in.

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time.

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time.

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.”

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous.

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says.

You catch his hand. “I got you one.”

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth.

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter.

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?”

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin.

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff.

“Feels too good to be true.”

“My turn tonight,” he says.

“No, baby, it’s my turn.”

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say.

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke.

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.”

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back.

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,�� he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.

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