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yueebby · 1 year

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Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”

satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.”

“o-okay.”

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.”

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!”

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

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moondirti · 28 days

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can i say something crazy? cw: piss. nasty stuff

simon who has absolutely no respect for his bird's privacy.

comes back home from work; all sweaty and churlish and dour, soot caked on his face and hands, welder boots announcing his arrival in heavy, lazy footsteps. he doesn't call for you, but your gentle hey babe sounds from the bathroom anyway, half-distracted by the videos on your phone. the idea of you coddled at home since he left at dawn that morning — cushioned in bed until late, one hand in a bowl of cherries on ice that still drips condensation over your nightstand, the other pushing a new record for screen time on tiktok, the lengths of your legs all soft, bitten, exposed in set of flimsy shorts, cooled by the fan overhead, all ready evidence to why he puts up with as much shit as he does — drives him a little mad to think about. stokes a hunger in him, a mix of pride and masculinity and possessiveness that has him pushing into the room. despite the fact that his needs aren't urgent, not pressing enough to justify this.

this — standing right before you, so that your manicured toes kiss his leather soles. saying nothing as he unbuckles his belt, gruff, quiet, completely uninterested in addressing your concerns when you look up at him with those squinted eyes. it isn't above simon to make you suck him off while you're on the toilet, and really you wouldn't mind, but you get the sense that isn't what this is when he knocks your legs apart with his knees. little fuss to the action, little reaction to your spread pussy.

his cock bounces out about eye level with you. soft. nonetheless hefty and thick and large, bowing down even as he wraps a rough palm around its base. he can see the revelation find you in real time when he places his free hand on the wall behind you. the cresting arch of your brows. the grimace mangling your cheeks. the prissy pout of your lips. if he weren't so exhausted, he might have it in him to take your face right there. it's just the right combination of horror and fascination to get him going.

"simon noooo," you whine, throwing your phone somewhere, scrambling back until you can't anymore, porcelain tank pressing flush to your back. "just wait your turn. please!"

"'nuff of tha'. shush now." he huffs, chuckling a bit when he realises that you only made things worse for yourself by leaning away. your hips now jut out, cunt propped centre of the bowl.

there's no shyness, no stall on the release. his piss comes out in one, hot stream, washing right on target to hit your little clit. you shake your head, so disgusted with him he knows he'll have to make it up later. still, you do nothing to discourage it, sitting in place like a good pet, only occasionally tensing your legs against the steaming shower. some splashes on your belly, some on your thighs and the rim, yet it's never ending. you wonder if he planned this all day, held in the four cans of san pellegrino you packed for his lunch, just so he could give them back to you.

you just don't realise that not all of it is his.

"sad t'be missin' out on th' fun?" simon mocks, finally pulling away. he shakes the last of it off his cock, swiping a hand over his tip, before tucking himself back in. you blink, look down, and realise that somewhere along the lines, you started peeing too.

and have yet to stop.

"it's natural!" you wail, squeezing your pelvis floor in a last ditch attempt to save your dignity. it's no use. having started, it's near impossible to stop. your necks discovers a new type of heat in the humiliation, burn licking its way up your face. your ears tuck into your shoulder.

"yeah, yeah." he patiently waits for you to finish, cupping a hand under your elbow to keep you upright as you stand on fawn legs. his lips are paper thin, fleeting, when they press fondly to your temple. "now off to th' shower w'ya."

your nose crinkles. "you know you need one more than i do, right?"

"and wha's a shared bath?"

#surprisingly domestic. or as domestic as he can be #unedited as always #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #tw piss

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rebelfell · 30 days

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Can I interest anyone in a wee bit of frenemy(?)eddie and some soft confessions while under the influence?

18+, MDNI 2.2k

cw: drug use (edible)

“Oh, wow. She’s really out.”

Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Eddie didn’t need to be told. He had noted your rapid descent into sleep when it started halfway through the movie. Your eyelids fluttering like they had weights attached to them and your body curling into itself as you sank into the cushions of the Wheeler’s sofa.

You were crumpled in a ball at the end of it now, hugging the arm like you thought you were going to roll off the edge of a cliff if you let go. Your half-drunk beer still sat on the end table, abandoned once the edible you split with Argyle took effect.

Eddie had foolishly tried to warn you off it, saying you should start with half of your half and go from there. But of course that only set the two of you off like a pair of dueling firecrackers.

He didn’t know how he kept ending up in these spats with you. He never intended to insult you, it just seemed he had a real knack for it. You always accused him of babying you and he’d accuse you of being too stubborn for your own good.

Had anyone besides Eddie suggested you take it easy, you probably would have listened and might still be conscious right now.

Nancy jostled you gently, trying to rouse you while Eddie peered over her shoulder. He didn’t care for the lifeless way your limbs hung, for the way your head lolled forward on your shoulders like you couldn’t hold it up yourself.

It made his fingers drum nervously on the outside edge of his thigh and the wallet chain that hung there clinked with each and every irregular tap.

Of course he knew there was logically no way you could OD on a pot brownie—but that didn’t mean he delighted in seeing you so incapacitated.

Eyes shut tight, you started babbling softly in response to Nancy’s voice as she tried to draw you back to the world of the waking. With a soft oof, she got you to put one arm around her neck and attempted to lift you off the couch. But even with the deceptive strength of her slight frame, she wasn’t getting you anywhere by herself.

So, she glanced around the room at the rest of their friends in their various states of intoxication.

Steve and Robin were long gone, Robin being the winner of their coin toss for who got to drink that night while the other stayed sober. She’d skipped on the edible and mainlined strawberry daiquiris instead, leading to her calling out forlornly as Steve helped drag her out the door,

“What if I puke pink? Please, please, please, don’t let me puke pink—”

Argyle and Jonathan were passed out, entwined on the pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor, Jonathan likely not realizing the warm chest he was burying his face in wasn’t his girlfriend’s.

Finally, her determined gaze fell to Eddie, and she tilted her head at him in that Nancy way of her’s that gave out marching orders without her so much as speaking a word. With another glance at your sleeping form, Eddie released a resigned sigh and nodded his head.

As they helped you climb the stairs, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, you started to rouse again and slowly registered what was happening through the fog of your high.

“Aww, shit…m’fucked up, huh?” you chuckled, letting out a heavy sigh. Head lifted the couple of inches you could manage, “M’so sorry, Nance, I shouldn’t have…he was right…again…”

The bitter edge in your voice as the last word left your lips made Eddie’s brow jump with interest. You lifted your head the full two inches you could manage and peered at Nancy through half-lidded eyes. Your head then swiveled to the other side and Eddie braced himself for more vitriol.

But none came.

Your face didn’t even change and Eddie realized your current state made he and Nancy’s mops of messy brown curls somewhat indistinguishable. You just continued on like you were still talking to your best friend, not the guy you couldn’t stand.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking beast, you know that? You’re so strong…”

The loopy giggle you let out brought a smile to Eddie’s lips in spite of himself. He felt your hand start to curl around his shoulder and it made him tense, worrying you’d recognize the rough denim of his vest. But your fingers simply held it, rubbed the frayed hem of his cut-off sleeve between the pads, your sleepy smile re-forming.

“God, Nance, you smell so good…”

Your head suddenly drooped, landing partially on Eddie’s shoulder and making his breath catch.

You took a deep inhale of his scent, your chest expanding with it and making Eddie’s eyes bulge and then avert quickly when he caught himself ogling the deep scoop of your neckline. He had already committed most of the night to avoiding just that, his eyes just…slipped for a second.

Over your head, he caught Nancy’s gaze and the cloudy blue color might as well have been a bright red laser for how clearly she saw through him.

Thankfully, they got to the guest room before she could make any damning remarks. She pushed open the door and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating a bed piled obscenely high with pillows and a down comforter seemingly thicker than some mattresses Eddie had slept on.

“Can you hold her?” Nancy asked, looking from the bed back to him.

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he nodded, only half-sure of his answer. Nancy lifted your other arm from her shoulder and turned you into his body. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder.

His hands wrapped hesitantly around your back, holding you against him almost like you were slow dancing. He had to resist the urge to sway.

Heart thundering so loud he feared it might wake you, Eddie watched while Nancy pushed all of the decorative pillows to the floor and turned down the comforter, motioning Eddie forward.

He walked you backwards a few steps and sat you down on the edge of the bed while Nancy knelt to take off your shoes. Thankfully, the dress code on movie night was always supremely casual and the track pants and tank top you’d worn would be fine to sleep in.

You babbled a bit more as they got you ready for bed, seemingly oblivious to Eddie’s presence—even mentioning him briefly as they helped you lay flat and Nancy lifted your legs onto the bed.

“He’s just so annoying, you know?” you muttered bitterly. “Like, whatever, you’re hot and you play guitar and you’ve banged like half the town. That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Eddie tried not to let the words sting. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t said before to his face, but there was something about you still saying it, even when he “wasn’t there” to hear it.

“I’m gonna get water,” Nancy whispered, already out the door. “Just keep an eye on her, please?”

Eddie frowned and grumbled in response, but he didn’t move from his spot beside you. He did start to turn away, but stopped when you shifted in the bed. You reached out a limp hand and caught just the tips of Eddie’s fingers, tugging lightly on them like you wanted to tell him something.

He sank slowly to his knees, trying to hear you as your lips moved almost mutely.

“Should’ve listened,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve been such a dick…”

You seemed perfectly content continuing your conversation even without “Nancy” responding, and Eddie wondered if he should just go? He was positive you’d be mortified if you ever found out he had overheard any of this. But even as he was screaming at his feet to move, for his knees to rise, they remained planted on the Wheeler’s plush carpeting at your next words.

“Nance…why doesn’t he like me?”

It took what felt like a year for Eddie to unfreeze. He looked towards the door for a sign of Nancy’s shadow in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. But there was none.

Your head lolled on the pillow, eyes still shut but the lids twitching subtly like you were trying to open them. If you did, you’d be staring straight into Eddie’s own rapt gaze. You still held your pitifully weak grasp on his fingers, and he easily could have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Eddie just watched, torn between his standards of decency and being desperate to find out what you were talking about. He didn’t even know you were into anyone—let alone that you liked them enough to groan about them to Nancy. What kind of idiot wouldn’t like you back?

Some sadistic part of him wanted to find out.

“I mean, I know I’m not—m’not like…Chrissy—but I’m alright, aren’t I? An’ I wore thisstupid booby shirt hoping he’d notice and he just…”

Your voice took on a wounded waver and you stopped, inhaling deeply as if to steady yourself. The beginnings of tears started to shimmer along your lash line and you shut your eyes tighter, but it only squeezed one of them out and made it trickle down your temple in a wet trail.

Okay…Eddie was really confused now.

He didn’t even know you knew his ex-girlfriend’s name until it came tumbling past your lips. And he sure as shit had so noticed your booby shirt—he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off you, had to actively force himself not to stare.

Had you actually…did you really wear it for him?

All of a sudden, you rolled onto your side and your eyes cracked open the widest he had seen them all night. You looked almost lucid and you were staring directly into Eddie’s face.

He flinched slightly, worried you might scream when you saw him. But you just sighed, scanning his features all glassy and moon-eyed as you stared at him plainly. Unabashedly.

Like he’s an oil painting that couldn’t look back.

“He’s just so…pretty.”

The words are whispered, like a secret. And it takes everything in him to remain totally still and not to let his eyes bug completely out of his skull. Wait, did you…Did you not think he was there?

“I like’im so much…what’m I gonna do?”

There it was again. That plaintive whine, that broken lilt of your voice that tugged mercilessly at something deep inside of him. Heartstrings he didn’t know were there until you plucked them.

You looked at him with those shiny eyes. Literal tears were filling them now, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were crying. Over him? What kind of world was he living in?

And nearly too late, Eddie realized your eyes were fluttering closed again. Not from exhaustion, but to lean in and kiss him.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You stretched your neck forward, hand coming up to cup his jaw—god, your palms were so soft, not rough and hard like his—and Eddie felt himself melt briefly into your touch, just for a moment before he realized what you were doing.

Eyes closing, chest heaving, lips parting as you leaned into what you thought was a dream.

No, no, no, he thought frantically. Not like this—

Eddie wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled away from you. It made you push a little harder, trying to fight your way out of his grasp, but you were weak and looked more like a kitten trying to box. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want you to get upset, he just—

“Hey,” he soothed, gently brushing the backs of his fingertips along your jaw. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.”

You blinked, seemingly in realization, like you were surprised to hear him speak. And it made him wonder how many of your other dreams he’d starred in where he didn’t say a word.

But his voice seemed to soothe you somewhat, your fists unclenching and dropping to lay on the softness of the sheets. You nodded your head as your face sunk back into the pillow, your cheek rubbing the dainty floral bouquets on the case.

Eddie let out the breath he didn’t remember he was holding, his shoulders slumping with it as his mind raced. Carefully, with nimble fingers curled around the edge of the comforter, he tugged it up further over your shoulders, almost to your chin. You snuggled a little deeper into your sleep and Eddie tucked the blanket in a little tighter, his heart pounding with every second.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

Once in a while we have to do the pining, I guess 🙄

Very veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by that scene in New Girl where Jess is on painkillers. Ty for reading - love you, mean it!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things

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screampied · 8 hours

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❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”

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lisenberry · 1 month

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Feral Friday 141 Thoughts

NSFW/MDNI/18+

When you really need to ride him...

...He’s sitting on the couch, watching the day’s match. Knees spread wide and taking up half the cushions. You’re cuddled under his arm with your feet tucked up, reading a book or a download on your phone. It’s in the middle of a steamy scene in your latest bodice-ripper. After chapters’ worth of fighting and resisting, the heroine is finally going to come all over the big mean villain’s engorged appendage.

You’re so engrossed, you’re sure he can feel your breath change and your cheek heat up where it rests against his chest. Can he sense your arousal as it dampens your knickers underneath the old, softened t-shirt you claimed from his bedroom floor the first time you slept over?

When the whistle sounds to end the half, you vaguely notice, until he stirs next to you. “Hey, babe? We got any snacks?”

“Umm, I th-think so.” You pull your attention away just in time to meet his eyes. And he immediately knows.

“Got yourself a good one there, do you?” You’ve bitten your lips raw, you’re sweating, and your chest is nearly heaving with lust as you nod desperately.

“Do you mind if I take the edge off?” You squeeze your thighs together and feel the slick dripping past the fabric.

“Your finger or mine?” he asks, keeping one eye on the telly and one on you as your maneuver out of your underwear.

“I’m going to need something a bit more this time,” you nearly whine as you launch onto his lap, careful not to headbutt his chin in your urgency.

GAZ – He doesn't miss a beat as you nestle your excited little pussy just over his cock. He’s already rock-hard and it doesn’t take much to pull him out from the sweatpants he wears slung low on his hips.

“Take what you need, love.” He smiles proudly as you drop down onto him, slipping and sliding on your own slick.

And you do, pitching forward to settle him against the bundle of nerves deep in your belly. He’s so long, he doesn’t just graze it, he impales it. You swear he’s in your lungs, stealing your breath with each rise and fall.

He cheers you on the whole way.

“Look at you bouncing so well on my cock...So pretty all flushed and sweaty...Fucking hot, you are.”

Your unfairly handsome, quick-tongued rake tenderly wipes the hair and perspiration from your face, and lets you use him until you're shattered and worn out.

SOAP: He lets you grind against him for a bit through his gym shorts, dick fully chubbed like the pommel of a saddle.

“Please tell me it’s a Scottish highland warrior that’s got you so bothered, and not some prissy English lord. You’ll hurt my feelings.” He grins, his eyes already rolling back in his head at your steady stroking.

“Keep talking, Johnny.” You hump against him faster, knowing the second you put him in, you’ll be done for. A weeping, overstimulated mess before he even catches his stride. His burly, veiny length has an upwards curve like he was molded and kiln-forged just to fit you.

And he could go for hours if you didn’t wind him up good. Tease him and test him, get his attention exactly where it needs to be.

“Let me suck on your tits, bonny lass.” He deepens his brogue and his voice an octave as he tries not to laugh, while he strips your shirt off and buries his face into your bosom.

You are quite sure that the hot-headed highland scoundrel in your story didn’t use the word ‘tits’, but you let it slide. The one between your thighs is everything you need, and more.

GHOST – He’s wearing jeans, so it’s a bit harder to get him free. After you let out a frustrated huff at the complexity of his wardrobe, he cups you under your ass and stands you both up. Undoing his belt buckle and the fly one-handed before setting you back down astride him again.

“Needy little dove today.”

“Just let me try, Si.” You rarely ever ride him. The few times you’ve attempted it, you give up when your thighs turn to mush and your cunt aches from being split in two. He’s just too thick for a quickie.

“Are you going to let me help this time, or are you going to be stubborn?”

“Help!” The strangled sound escapes your throat as you fit him in to the hilt. He takes up so much space, you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

“You’re fucking soaked.” He rolls his hips to stretch you further, to find the right spot, as your slick trickles down to coat his balls. You feel them wet and sticky against your seam.

“Mmmh-uhhh, that’s it. Right there,” you bellow gratefully to the ceiling.

“What are you going to do about it?” He grabs your hips rudely, fingers pressing to dimple the skin and hold you down as he spears your nerves like a spike.

You fight against his hold, knowing that’s what he's looking for. Just a little fire in your belly, a little steel in your spine and your merciless, battle-scarred rogue will give you anything you want.

“That’s it, dovey. Fuck me good.”

PRICE – He’s watching you with awe, wide-eyed and slack jawed, so immersed in the act of being milked by your warm, soft walls that he’s relinquished control completely. You know that look too well.

“Do not come yet, John. Please. Think of bullets. Hollow points and grenades. A...ummm, a panzer!” You’re almost there. So...close your mind is just pulling words from memories of past conversations you were only barely listening to.

“A panzer? Like the bloody old German tank?” he asks with the sort of clarity of mind you need of him in this situation.

“Yes, keep thinking of dusty relics rotting in museums. While I ride your big, beautiful cock—”

“You’ve done it now.” He groans, and you feel him stiffen inside you. The sensation of it, coupled with the hot spurts of his spend hitting your most sensitive spot, get you there just in time to join him.

You don’t even mind that it was so quick. It warms your heart, and your cunt, that the callous, domineering war hero falls to pieces so completely for no one but you.

#call of duty #captain john price #price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut

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after-witch · 3 months

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Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line.

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog.

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall.

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment.

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.”

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning.

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails.

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building.

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both.

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.”

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here.

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made?

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette.

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls.

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth.

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?”

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased.

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse?

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey.

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you.

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives.

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work.

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them.

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent.

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down.

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone.

It is, as with so many things, a certainty.

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled.

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more.

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams.

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced.

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space.

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again.

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this.

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub.

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils.

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology. You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do.

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth.

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created. How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke on your hands washed away with the bathwater.

#yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #afterwitch writes

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valiasims · 2 months

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Naturali Living Room Download

Hey everyone!

Here is my new cc set which I call Naturali living room because of the calm mixture of natural colors and woods. As I mentioned before, this collection was inspired/based on an article I found which was a home tour of Valerie Quant, a footwear designer. I loved the simplicity but warmness her home has so I decided I want to put those vibes in my game.

The two main elements of this set are the sofa and the accent, Cristian Valdés chair which I'm in love with and I like how it turned out. The sofa has 6 different pieces, the end pieces have slots so you can put there small decor objects.

I wanted to create walls as well but I wasn't satisfied with how they looked so I ditched them, sorry. :D But I added a new wooden floor which will go with the wood colors in this set.

I hope you'll like these items in your game!

The Set Includes

Modular Sofa (Middle, Middle V2, Corner, Corner V2, Left End, Right End)

Valdés Chair

TV Cabinet

Coffee Table (1 tile, 2 tile)

Flower Bouquet

Painting (Flower themed)

Sofa Cushion

Floor Lamp

Rug

Throw Blanket

Wooden Floor

🔹 Compatibility All items are Base Game compatible. 🔹 TIP You can find the items easily in your Build/Buy Catalog if you type in "Naturali" or "VALIA". 🔹 Info - Low poly, new, maxis match meshes- Since some items share the same texture you need to have them all files ending in "_texture" in your mods folder to properly work.

-DOWNLOAD HERE- Public release on the 14th of August 6PM CST

#ts4cc #ts4 maxis match #maxis match #the sims 4 cc #the sims 4 custom content #ts4ccfinds #sims 4 cc #cc #the sims cc #cc finds #sims 4 #ts4 cc #ts4 custom objects #valia #valiasims #cc download #sims4 download #ts4 download

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kaisturni · 3 months

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cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor roles and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it’s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt” i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

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mysterystarz · 5 months

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haikyuu boys asking for a kiss

ft: atsumu miya, osamu miya, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ATSUMU MIYA

atsumu is snuggled up to you on the couch while you frantically type away at your laptop. on the tv in front of you are all the highlights of the recent volleyball tournament — a far cry from the pages and pages of information that you kept adding to.

your classes had finals this week, and in the midst of putting all the final touches on your papers, you’d barely had time to give your boyfriend any of the affectionate love you always treated him to (and it was showing).

atsumu wrapped his arm tighter around yours, brown eyes fluttering up from beneath his lashes to meet yours.

“angelllll” he whined, gently pushing your laptop to the nearby cushion, “give me a kiss. ya’ haven’t given me anythin’ in so long.”

“just a minute,” you sigh, gently running your finger across his cheek. “can i at least put the last sentence on this paper.”

he pouts huffily, and so enamored by your boyfriend, you lean in to press your lips to his. they were soft and comforting in the way that they always were and you felt better instantly.

atsumu smiles cheekily after you pull away.

“another one please.”

“tsumu!”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹OSAMU MIYA

osamu was teaching you how to bake after you’d admitted that you needed a lot more practice using an oven before you’d ever feel comfortable cooking in front of others.

luckily, he was there, your apron clad knight in shining armor (a chefs hat) to cheesily teach you the ropes of one of his favorite pasttimes.

“okay, now what?” you asked, hands dusted in flour as you looked to the bowl in front of you. you’d done a great job getting the ingredients into the bowl, but some of the batter had splattered slightly onto the countertop while mixing.

osamu smirks smugly, casing you in against the countertop and leaning in just inches from your face.

“look at that. yer givin’ me such a mess to clean up.” he smiles and you think you might just melt from how warm the look in his eyes is. “this requires a price.”

you gulped nervously, all too cognizant of how close he was. “anything.”

“give me a kiss,” he whispers, and your lips are on his almost instantly. he pulls you close and you taste the faintest dusting of sugar on his lips. you pull him even closer, until you hear a thud.

“what was that?” you asked, pulling away.

osamu laughs, pointing to your feet. “the flour! ya’ knocked it over klutz. guess i must be that good of a kisser.”

“shut up,” you grin.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ OIKAWA TOORU

oikawa tooru is on his way to a sports banquet and you’re his date. he stands nervously at your doorstep, looking dapper in a tux that he took days deciding on. he’s picked a tie that compliments the rosiness of his skin, and taps his foot nervously.

you open the door to greet him with a wide smile, and oikawa thinks that his heart is about to jump out of his chest. you look perfect. the outfit you chose complimented your features perfectly, and for a moment, oikawa is so stunned that he can’t even speak.

“tooru,” you beam at him with your widest smile, and he thinks he’s going to become a puddle on the floor. he enters your place, hands nervously shaking around the index cards he’s prepared for todays speech and the fact that he was lucky enough to score you as his date.

“are you nervous?” you ask, catching the shakiness of his hands. however handsome and composed he seemed on the outside, you could always tell when he needed some reassurance.

“a bit,” he confessed. “i have to be the best speech giver for people to pay attention. i’m just not sure if i can.”

you stride over to him, adjusting his tie a bit and patting his cheek affectionately. “you’re magnetic tooru. you’ll be just fine.”

he looks at you earnestly, brown eyes filled with fondness. “can i kiss the jitters out?”

you nod with a laugh and press your lips to his, enveloped in his passionate embrace. his lips keep finding yours over and over, and he pulls away to gasp for air.

“feel better?” you asked, lips a tad swollen from his kiss.

“i could use another one,” he smirks.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

iwaizumi hajime had invited you out on an impromptu picnic. the weather at your university had just gotten so much better, and in the spirit of enjoying nature, he’d invited you outside (promising you could bounce any questions off of him if you needed to study).

you found yourself under a beautiful tree, filled with flowers that were soft to the touch. hajime filled a basket with all your favorite snacks and drinks.

it was the perfect excursion, and with the sun warming the air around you and the brisk breeze, you could almost say that it was the perfect day.

iwaizumi pulls you into his side, and the two of you look out into the field together. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through your shirt.

“this is nice,” you sigh contently, feeding iwaizumi a strawberry. he smiles genuinely, and you think your heart will burst.

“you know what would make this better? a kiss.” he jokes cheekily, only to have you nodding eagerly to press your lips to his.

it’s sweet and juicy from that strawberry, and you can feel his happiness radiate through the way he holds you close. when you pull away, he’s grinning like you strung the stars.

too enamored by the handsome boy in front of you, you lean in to kiss him again.

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daycourtofficial · 6 months

Text

You’re losing me

Summary: Azriel has always put his duties as spymaster above his own needs and wants. How long can you let him keep putting work over you before boiling over?

Author’s note: I am so sorry about this babes, this is pure heartbreak. Anyway angst is a new genre for me so please lmk how this goes for you (good, bad, awful - lmk)

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

You sit in the library of your shared home, the soft cushion of your favorite armchair not providing the comfort it used to. The library was your favorite room in the house - you and Azriel spent thousands of hours in here reading independently, reading to each other, or just enjoying the silence with each other for company.

The room was beautiful- you both adored the entirety of the house, but this room drew both of you in immediately. It’s beautiful stain-glass windows creating brilliant hues of color to move about the room during the day, bringing life to the dark wood that adorns the walls of the room.

Vivid colors from the scenes in the stain glass window would dance across the floor, as if reenacting the depictions just for you two.

It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago, and you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed the light of the room. The last time you and Azriel had enjoyed the light of the room.

The last time you and Azriel just enjoyed each other’s company without knowing he was going to leave in a matter of hours.

It was a song and dance you were familiar with by now - he’d return home from doing some work requested by Rhys, you’d make him some food, you two would snuggle or have sex, and he’d be gone by the time you woke up.

It wasn’t always like this, but the two years since the war have caused Azriel to dive headfirst into his work, accepting every scrap of work Rhysand would push his way, darting out the door like it was calling to him.

You hear the front door open, knowing who it is despite their silent entrance. Sighing, you stand up and walk out of the library, closing the door behind you.

You walked through the halls of your home, feet softly padding on the hardwood floor until you see him across the living room, still in his leathers.

It used to amuse you, when he’d return in his leathers, compared to you in your frilly nightgowns. It was quite a sight, the dark leather surrounded by the satins and cottons of your nightgowns.

Now it just furthered to prove the divide between you.

“Az, we were supposed to go to the bakery today to taste cakes.”

You hardly let him walk through the door before picking a fight, but his absence at the bakery hours ago left you ample time to stew in your negative emotions.

He runs his hand down his face, the purple and blue bruising under his eyes having grown more and more prominent over the weeks. Truthfully, you don’t want to start a fight, but you’ve let too many of these things slide in the past two years and you’re at your tipping point.

Missed dates, rescheduled dinners, missed anniversaries, cancelled trips. You had tried talking several times about it, but you need your fiancé around more than he has been. No amount of begging can make him do anything about it, though.

The most egregious of all was the continually delayed status of your wedding ceremony. You’ve had to rescind the invitations two times now, and you’re have tempted to send out fresh ones that just say “date: TBD”.

He just sighs in response, telling you, “I had to work, I had a mission.”

You sigh, knowing it was the truth. Your fiancé would never cheat on you, but he would put everyone else’s needs above his.

And above your own.

“Azriel, I really needed you today. It was important to me for you to be there.”

“It’s just a cake - pick any flavor you want. You know what I like,” he says, sitting onto the couch and taking off his boots.

“It’s not just a cake! This is your wedding too - I cannot make every decision for this. It’s supposed to be about us, not about me.”

You shake your head, exasperation bubbling to the surface, “I feel insane going to these appointments because I have a fiancé who never shows up! I swear I heard the florist say she pitied me because I pretended to be engaged!”

Azriel drags a hand down his face, “can we not do this now? I’m exhausted and want to bathe before bed.”

You huff out a laugh, as Azriel tries to move past you but you continue to follow him. “When would be a better time? You’re hardly home lately, and you leave at a moment’s notice for Rhysand.”

He whips his head at you, “it’s my job, my duty.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure you could delegate a decent proportion of your work to the people under you that you both hand selected and trained yourself!

He sighs, exasperated, “it’s my job.”

A line you’ve heard a thousand times. You knew who he was when you began dating him, you’ve always known who he was and what he did.

But you thought his need to feel worthy would wane with time, not get worse.

“You put Rhys’s needs over mine!” You’re shouting now, something you never do, and Azriel bites back, “he’s my high lord - and yours.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to keep you at his beck and call!” Your hands were running through your hair, unable to have the same argument again and again.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Oh so was it Rhys’s beck and call to push our wedding back three separate times?”

He whirls around at you, pointing, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Three times is not fair! It’s like you don’t even want it!”

His silence to your accusation rings through your ears. A damning, deafening silence.

You count to ten in your head, and he hasn’t made a sound, only looking at the ground.

His lack of words echo through your mind, even as his hands reach out to you, his desperate pleadings of “I-” and “baby” falling on deaf ears.

“I’m glad to see where we stand.”

You begin to turn, but stop yourself.

“When I told Nesta our wedding was delayed again, she told me if you really wanted it, really wanted me, you’d suggest we just run off and get married like Rhys and Feyre did.”

You take a shaky breath, “but you never did.”

You step back from him, unable to look him in the eye, unable to do much of anything, except retreat from your shared bedroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Azriel stands in the now empty room, your footsteps ceasing down the hall but continuing in his mind. Every second he stands there, the further you become. He starts to move, starts to pick up his feet, his shadows urging him to go, go, go.

You can fix this, they tell him. Go, now.

His thoughts are broken up by Rhys’s voice, a smooth sound at such odds with the chaotic edges of his thoughts.

Az, I need you.

Azriel doesn’t even ask if it can wait. You’ll understand. He’s sure of it. He can fix things when he comes home. Rhys just needs him right now, he can help him out, then he can talk to you.

He scrawls a quick note on the table for you to find before retreating into his shadows.

He returns home a few hours later, his assistance speeding up Rhys’s needs. He stops to grab you your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been eyeing, and a necklace he’s had his eye on in the shop for ages.

The necklace gives him pause, as he realizes he first saw it eight months ago, its shine reminding him of your eyes.

Had it really been eight months?

He kept telling himself he was going to buy you the necklace for a special occasion, but so many have slipped by without his acknowledgment this past year.

Gods, he thinks, did he even celebrate your birthday?

Surely he hadn’t gotten that caught up in his work.

Had he?

The streets are quiet as he makes his way back to your shared home. He thinks over the past year and how he hardly saw you, and when he did, he often left not soon after seeing you.

He opens the door, the house eerily silent following your fight earlier. He deserved your silence. He couldn’t tell you how scared he was to marry you, tethering your soul to his for the rest of your lives.

You, who was so kind and so loving, shackled to him for eternity. He knew the insecurities were ridiculous, that you loved him with every part of yourself.

But that didn’t stop the self-hatred from oozing out of him every moment.

He hadn’t been there for you this past year. He had let his own need for approval overshadow your needs.

He groans, needing to find you so he can fix things. He walks through the house, not even realizing the book he’s carrying is a duplicate to the one sitting on the coffee table.

He starts really thinking, trying to remember the last time he had touched you, kissed you, held you.

Too long, he realizes, as he’s made his way through the whole house without a sign of you. A shadow wraps around his wrist, pulling him into the kitchen. He finds the note he had left earlier still on the table, but you had scrawled a second message underneath. Five words that break his resolve, forcing him to his knees. Your handwriting so clear, save for the splotched ink, wet from tears.

I wouldn’t marry me either.

Part two

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar writing

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malavera · 13 days

Text

The Babysitter (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: you’re a babysitter who secretly has an ongoing fling with Logan, the dad.

pairing: origins!dilf!logan x babysitter!reader

warnings: SMUT! MDNI. AU, Legal age gap, Infidelity (logan’s married), daddykink, unprotected sex, grinding, slight choking, foul language

check out my Logan Howlett's masterlist here!

What was once an accident, can be the start of something new. But not exactly a prude thing to do.

You were crazy to think that you'd really have the house to yourself, after he told you he'd be out running some errands. He didn't specify his return, you shouldn't have been that stupid.

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant rumble of thunder in the night sky. You had just put little James Howlett to bed, his small body finally succumbing to sleep after a day full of energy and laughter. The night was yours now, a rare moment of solitude in the Howlett household.

You thought you had the house to yourself. Logan had left earlier, a vague mention of errands pulling him out into the stormy night. You felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of some privacy, a chance to indulge in thoughts you’d been trying to push away all day.

Logan Howlett. The hot, rugged father with that brooding intensity and a body carved from years of hard work. Every glance he sent your way felt like a physical touch, setting your nerves on fire and leaving you breathless.

You made your way to the living room, the dim light from the streetlamp outside casting a soft glow across the space. The couch was still warm from where Logan had sat earlier, and his scent—woodsy, with a hint of smoke—hung in the air, intoxicating and irresistible. You sank into the cushions, the cool fabric pressing against your skin as you leaned back, closing your eyes, imagining him there with you.

Your thoughts drifted, and soon your hand was sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing over your skin as you conjured up his image—Logan, with his piercing eyes and strong hands. The thought of him alone made your breath quicken, your heart pounding in your chest. You let out a soft moan, imagining his lips on your neck, his hands exploring every inch of you.

But just as you began to lose yourself in the fantasy, the front door creaked open. Your eyes snapped open, panic gripping you as you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floor. You froze, heart hammering in your chest as you realized Logan was back.

He stepped inside, shaking rain from his hair, his jacket soaked through from the downpour outside. He hadn’t seen you yet, and for a moment, you thought you might still be safe. But as he turned, his gaze fell on you, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Your breath caught, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized you were caught in the act. Logan’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face before his expression hardened, his gaze darkening as it moved over you.

There was no hiding now, no pretending this wasn’t what it was. You could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but there was something else there, too—something thrilling about being caught, about the way Logan was looking at you now.

His voice was low, a rough edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words. All you could do was stare back at him, your body still tingling from the heat of your fantasy, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Logan took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your pulse quicken. “Do you know what you're playing at?” His voice was a growl now, low and dangerous, but there was something in his gaze—something dark and hungry that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

Caught between fear and desire, you could only nod, a small, shaky movement that seemed to amuse him. A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, and he took another step toward you, his presence filling the room, overwhelming and intoxicating. In that moment, you knew this was no accident. You were on the edge of something you couldn’t control, something sinfully addictive that had just begun.

At one point, you did try to get out of it. But he kept offering more money and more support. Logan is aware how financially unstable you are to support your mother, and your higher education, so he kept creating more offers for you to earn extra money.

"Stay for a little bit will ya? I need you to massage my back a bit, I'll give you extra $20 how's that sound?" — "I'm about to watch this new movie, don't go yet. I'll give you extra $30." — "Have this dinner with me will ya? I'll have you extra $15."

Now the requests have never been taboo right? There's more to this than meets the eye. You'd end up sucking his cock, or him using your pussy all he wants because actually what he really needs, is only to have his cock buried deep in a tight warm cunt. And that's what you are, a cunt to use for him since the Missus Howlett is nowhere to be found. He's convinced that she's probably cheating on him out there, which he stopped giving a fuck after he spent time with you.

You had wished he'd seen you more than just a pussy to fuck though. More than just a cum dump. You love him, you really do. The more you kept doing this with him, the more you fall for him.

Tonight, you had decided it was time to let go. The money, the passion—the things that once seemed so vital—now felt like chains, pulling you deeper into a place you didn't want to be. Your dignity, your self-worth, meant more than all the fleeting pleasures Logan Howlett could offer. You knew this would be the end, but you were prepared to throw it all away.

“Logan,” you managed to say, your voice shaky as you tried to pull away from his intoxicating kiss. His lips were relentless, hungry against yours, and it took all your willpower to speak again.

“Mmh,” Logan hummed, his grip tightening around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips found yours once more, silencing your words in a heated clash of tongues and breath. His touch was urgent, as if he knew this might be the last time.

“We need—” you tried again, your voice breaking against his mouth, “to talk.”

“What is there to talk about, pretty girl?” he muttered, his breath hot against your lips. His eyes were on your mouth, not meeting yours, avoiding the truth he could sense was coming.

“I—” you began, but Logan’s lips crashed back onto yours with a force that took your breath away. He was trying to drown out your words, to keep you here in this moment with him, to make you forget whatever resolve had brought you to this point.

You pushed against his chest, a soft resistance that did little to deter him. His hands roamed your body with a familiarity that both comforted and hurt, reminding you of all the times you’d given in to this desire, all the times you’d let him have his way. But not tonight. Not this time.

“Logan, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of need and determination. “Look at me.”

He paused, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his breath hot on your skin. His hands stilled, one resting on your hip, the other brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, and for the first time tonight, he looked at you—really looked at you.

“What’s this about?” he asked, his voice low and rough, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. This was harder than you thought it would be. “I can’t keep doing this,” you said softly, each word a struggle to get out. “I can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me.”

His brows furrowed, a shadow of confusion and hurt crossing his face. “I thought… I thought this was what you wanted,” he murmured, his grip on your waist loosening.

“It was,” you admitted, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “But I want more now, Logan. I want something real, something that isn’t just in the dark, behind closed doors.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with frustration and something deeper—fear, maybe. “And you think you’ll find that somewhere else? With someone else?” You tried to focused on the tone of his voice, but you failed miserably from the way his rough palm caressing your exposed skin. The skin that was once cold now warmed because of him, and you hate it so much the way your body always succumbed to his touch, always finds a way to make his presence feels like a long lost home that you’ve always longed for.

His eyes watched the way your chest heaves, short breaths were drawn through your nose and off through your parted lips; as if he could hear your beating heart like a drum. Logan slowly leaned in, inching his face closer to yours. He gazed into your eyes, trying to search for an answer. Then to your lips, debating if he should just go for it and hoping that you’ll let whatever it is you wanted to say, go.

“Come on, bub, I’ll let you go but only if you answer me with the boy’s name who can make you cum so much better than me.” He whispered against your lips, one hand lingered to the back of your neck, the other’s gripping your thigh.

Of course there’s no one, there’s no one like him.

There’s no one that can make you cum so much better than him, even if it’s your own fingers or your toys. There’s no one really understands what your body wants, needs, craves… He’s never a stranger to your home, his own scent alone was a reminder that he is the place that you seek for warmth. And as much as you don’t want to admit it, your own lips have a mind of its own,

“There’s no one better than you.” The sentence slipped off your lips faintly, almost like a whisper.

“Good, because whatever it is you’re thinking about, stop it. Think about my cock.” His eyes traced the curve of your lips, dark with longing, before locking onto yours, filled with unspoken desire. And before you could say anything, with force; he connected his lips to yours.

It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, but then replaced with a better one from him. It’s the kind of kiss that you’ll never want to break away, as you know you might thirst for more. It’s the kind of kiss that you know it’s wrong, but as long as you’re living in this moment, it never felt so right for you before. And you lied to yourself that this is totally okay when it is not. You wanted to feel okay because you’re only kissing someone’s son, someone’s past lover, but the fact is not just that; you’re kissing someone else’s husband, someone else’s father.

But if that’s the price you’ll have to pay to feel the warmth that you’ve always imagined, then please take all of your money away.

“Are you thinking about my cock, bub? Hm? Have you think about the way it’s growing each second underneath your pussy here, hm?” You softly moaned against him, pulling your head back slightly before crashing your lips back to him. “C’mon, what makes you think i’m going to ever let you go, hm? You’re too pretty for those college boys.” You gasped when he nipped your bottom lip slightly.

Logan roughly laid you down on the coach before he positioned himself on top of you. Usually you’d be the one who does all the work for him, you’d work for his cum on top of him, but tonight, after sensing you might’ve slipped away from him, it’s him who’s going to chase that high. He’d never let you go, ever.

His fingers hastily worked through his buttoned down shirt before exposing his bare chest to the cold air of the night. Your small hands reached out to trace down against his skin, feeling the bulged veins down to his happy trail. This time, he let you.

He dove down to attack the innocent skin of your neck earning a loud gasp from your mouth, your hands scratching down his back. The rough fabric of his jeans roughly graze against your clothed pussy, humping his growing boner against your throbbing pussy.

“Oh, daddy.” Moaning to his ears with your eyes fluttered shut. Logan hummed before he pulls away and yanked your tank top off of you, exposing your full-rounded breast for him to play with. His two hands groped your tits rather harshly, giving them a massage. His thumb playing with your nipples like game console, before giving them a nice twist and slight pull. Throughout this process, you were a moaning mess.

Logan cupped your breast before he put his mouth on your left tit and suck on your nipples until they felt raw. His skilled tongue flicked against your nip, sending chills down your spine, the actions throb your pussy even more.

The hand with his wedding ring on, traced down your stomach down to your skirt, and down to the band of your panties slipping his hand in. He groaned against your tits after discovering how wet and slicked your pussy are for him. No longer needed an additional of lube to push his fingers into your throbbing cunt and when he does just that with his index and middle finger, your back instantly arched and let out the loudest gasp.

Logan pulls away from your tits, his fingers starting to thrust in and out of your cunt, slow. “Feels good doesn’t it, bub? You think those college boys of yours can give you this? Huh? Hey open your eyes, look at me, look at daddy… Yeah haha there we go, I’m just getting started here, pretty girl.”

Your eyebrows pulled together, your lips parted with a moan escaping from it. Logan watched every second your face contorts into each newfound pleasure your body discovered from his fingers playing inside of you. He couldn’t wait to bury his cock deep in this tight pussy of yours. When he started to pick up the pace, the room filled with the sound of nothing but your wet pussy.

Logan edged you more with him moaning above you, “Oh yeah so good huh, bub, you’re gonna cum for me? Yeah? You wanna cum?” You couldn’t form the words he wanted to hear but as you’re about to reach your high, he roughly pulls out his fingers jolting your body upwards with surprise.

“Daddy!” You were about to protest but when Logan was tossing away his jeans and holding his thick and heavy cock on his hands, your mouth flew shut, watching him gave himself a couple of pumps.

He yanked your panties away before aiming his cock against your clit, rubbing the angry red tip on your glistening cunt as he shoved it in without a warning, earning a loud moan from you. Logan pushed himself closer to you and shush your mouth with his finger,

“Shh, baby, don’t be too loud.” He said with that daunting smirk of his.

“You’re— You’re too big daddy, I could never get used to it…” You whimpered, your eyes glistening with tears, tears from pleasure. Logan coo’ed, “I know, baby, I know, take it like a good girl, yeah?” He pulled his hips back slightly before roughly pushing against you.

His big cock hitting that perfect spot, every time. “Mmh,” Logan closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your tiny pussy hugging his thick cock tightly. “Pussy so good, of course I’m not letting you go, baby. Never.” Logan lightly laughs on top of you before he pulls away and grab your legs to put it on his shoulder.

You gasped at the newfound feeling; Logan stands on his knees with your legs straight up leaning against his chest before he pushed down folding you. And when he heard your approval moan, he started pounding into your pussy rather harshly with impeccable speed.

You were a mess. A moaning mess. You did tried to tone down the sound coming out of your throat but you couldn’t help it, his cock felt too good. Hitting the right spot, and the way he watched you with tiny grunts leaving his gritted teeth. Logan had to put his palm on your mouth with pressure hoping your sound will died down a little, he didn’t want his little boy to wake up from the sound of his dad fucking his babysitter on their couch where they usually watch Nickelodeon together.

“Goddamn it, honey, you hear that, you hear that wet sound? That’s your pussy. Fuck, she really loves me isn’t she?” Logan coo’ed at you, he was right, the room is filled with nothing but the skin slapping, and your throbbing cunt spilling a bit of your liquid.

“And you… Were going to take her away from me, from my cock…” Logan said in between thrusts, panting above you as you closed your eyes whining. “Gahh! Baby, feels so good, too good, daddy’s gonna cum so hard.” Your pussy clenches around his cock once you heard the last three words and Logan noticed this.

“Yeah you’d like that don’t you, baby? Always put daddy’s needs first. You’re such a nice girl, so smart, look at your pussy— grrhh, so good clenching me like that.” You wished you could look down and see what he meant, but you’re too distracted watching the way his face contorts into pleasure. He was so beautiful when he’s about to reach his high.

“Play with your clit baby, come on. Cum for me, cum with me.” Logan slowly slides his hand off your mouth down your throat, slightly gripping it as you moaned. The cold metal of his wedding ring serves as a sharp reminder, telling you to stop and walk away. But his cock brings you back to reality screaming otherwise. Your hand managed to go down to reach your clit and start rubbing it, fast.

“There we go baby. I know you’re close come on, be a good girl, cum for daddy.” And just like that, you came down reaching your high with a squeal. Your thighs stuttered and Logan moans watching your whole body shook. He’s still pounding inside you to reach his before he forcefully pulled out of your pussy and gives himself a couple of pumps before he shoots it out on your stomach.

Both of you were panting, trying to catch each other’s breath. Logan looks down on you, his chest heaves up and down. He looks at you deadpan, “You’re not going anywhere, You’re mine.”

And that’s a promise. But is this really what you want? Does he really mean it? Can he really take off that wedding ring?

——————

do buy me a coffee so i’m boosted to give y’all more smut to come 😌😘✨

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt.

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen.

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife.

“Overruled,” he decrees.

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.”

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out.

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.”

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?”

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast.

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up.

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips.

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to.

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off.

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck.

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him.

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?”

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.”

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.”

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both.

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.”

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.”

You sigh. “I figured.”

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?”

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler.

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck.

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.”

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows.

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.”

“Wasn’t ready for what?”

“To be sick.”

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?”

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb.

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums.

“What is it?” James asks.

“Thirty nine point five.”

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate.

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?”

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.”

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice.

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.”

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.”

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb.

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

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