#x reader but not really...

[system-network]

The Small Cabin

Trashy TV

The sound of the door creaking open forced your eyes to look up.

Another unknown man walked in.

The man had dirty blond hair, a small mustache on his face in the same color. He was definitely taller than the other two, he seemed more bulky as well.

He smiled down at you as he walked over to the bed you sat on. He had a small gap in-between his two front teeth.

He kneeled down next to the bed, much like how Toby did. “Hey kiddo,” he said with a smile.

“I know you're probably tired, but I'm going to help you to the living room. Is that okay?” He asked.

You nodded your head slowly, not verbally replying.

He didn't seem bothered by that fact, he just kept smiling.

The man helped you from the bed, holding onto you as gently as he could.

He slowly helped you walk into the living room, leading you to the old couch.

The whole house seemed old.

The wooden walls and floors didn't really help with the weather outside, some of the windows had blankets stabled to keep the cold out.

The couch whined in protest as you sat down, the cushions dipping underneath your weight.

The man with the beard was sat in the recliner that was moved to the left side of the living room, looking at the box TV that played a trashy reality show.

In his hand was a “#1 mom” mug with the number one crossed out and replaced with “#2”.

The sight was almost funny, you would have laughed if the other man didn't interrupt you.

“Toby said that your feet were messed up,” he started before looking up at you, “can I take a look?”

You nodded your head as the man gently grabbed your ankle and moved to look at your foot.

The silence was almost suffocating as the two men in the room didn't speak.

You finally spoke up, just needing to focus on something. “What's your name?”

“Tim,” the man on the recliner spoke as he got up. He grunted slightly as his bones popped before nodding to the man sitting in front of you, “that's Brian.”

“What's your name kid?” Brian asked as he pulled out tweezers from the first aid kit before he mumbled, “god- what did you run through..”

You shrugging slightly at Brian's mumbled words before telling him your name. He smiled slightly as you spoke before putting his focus back on your injured foot, he grimaced at the sight.

“This is going to hurt, kid,” Brian said apologetically.

Soon enough, Brian had gotten the glass out of your feet. You had no idea how you didn't feel the glass when you were running, you simply decided that it was the adrenaline.

Your feet had been wrapped after Brian made sure that he cleaned the cuts properly.

This was weird.

You're in the middle of nowhere, in a small cabin, with three grown men.

You couldn't help but feel uneasy, a growing pit in your stomach as you got lost in your own thoughts.

Toby walked into the living room, looking at you before getting distracted by the TV.

“Toby-” Tim started as Toby snatched the remote away from him.

Toby ignored the older man, switching the channel to TLC. “Fuck yeah,” he mumbled as he saw the opening to Say Yes to The Dress play.

He seemed to ignore your slight discomfort as he sat down next to you on the couch.

Tim sighed as the show began playing on the TV, he slowly got up from the recliner. He looked over at you and Toby before walking into, what you assumed, the kitchen.

Brian smiled down at you, quickly patting your shoulder before following Tim.

You looked back at the TV, it's been a while since you've watched this show.

The old camera quality and trashy audio was nostalgic. Every small thing seemed weirdly nostalgic.

The carpet on the floor, the loud air conditioner, and even the stains on the coffee table. It all seemed so similar.

Your hands clutched the fabric of Toby's hoodie you still wore, moving the fabric in-between your fingers. The hoodie felt worn down, like he's been wearing it for years on end.

That strangely comforted you.

You looked up at Toby, seeing that he was already looking at you.

“Y- you okay?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

You nodded your head as you spoke, “yeah, I just remembered how much I liked this show.”

It wasn't necessarily a lie, you did enjoy the show, you just couldn't remember when you actually saw it.

Toby smiled slightly as his left hand hit the couch cushion next to him before he turned his attention back to the TV.

[eraserbread]

pregnancy hormones don't stand a chance around your husband, nanami ✧

→ needy pregnant f!reader, whipped nanami, sexually explicit content

"hope that books not more interesting than me," you whisper, propped against the open bedroom door, dressed in nothing but a lacey babydoll lingerie set. your four-month pregnant belly peeks through the lace delicately, and your features are on fire.

kento gives you a little peek. "was wondering what took you so long." he's replying, flicking his book to the next page. you're standing, pouting in his presence.

"hello? i'm horny."

"and you do look very tantalizing in that outfit."

"so come take it off."

he gives you another look, this time lowering the leather-bound book enough to see his face. you pose, crossing your knees and jutting out your hip. you can feel those dark hazels fall over your jutting breasts, then to your widening hips, and finally to your swollen, pregnant belly. his little girl's home.

so, he sits up straight, shoving his book to the side table and ushering you over. "come on, love."

"needy girl..." kento is whispering against the back of your shoulder, pressing kisses there and letting them linger. you're hovering over his lap in reverse cowgirl, tongue pushed from your lips as you focus on staying steady.

"let me have it." you slur, cunt milking obsecnely over his bare lap. he's got a thick fist tight around his erection, making sure you're stable and comfortable before he lets you take him.

"i want you to, but i don't want you to hurt yourself... how about I be on top?"

"—no." you insist, shaking your head violently. he won't let the grip he has on your thighs loose, so all you can taste is the bulbous tip of his familiar, blushing cock.

"why do you insist on being so bratty?"

"I don't want to bottom, baby slides up and into my ribcage and ugh.." you're shivering, and if it wasn't for the abnormal influx of hormones, you'd be turned off just thinking about the pain.

the baby kento pressed into you all those months ago, was an active little girl. she kicked the hell out of you whenever you slept on your back, leading to long nights with little sleep. kento knows this, so why he's telling you to just lie there and take it, is lost on you.

though he's stubborn at times, kento is largely well-trained by you, so he lets you take him like this. his grip starts to loosen, and you can finally feel the stagnancy of his cock start to peek through your sticky folds and into you.

filled to the brim with need, you shiver instantaneously. "oh, please, pleaseplease. all the way—mmgh!!"

he's chuckling behind you—actually breathing a stupid laugh from his nose at your blatancy. "you're shaking already?"

to answer him —you're cumming, and it's a release you've never felt before. his fingers are pressing into your belly, keeping you strong and at his mercy as you cream helplessly all over him. your thighs are shaking, eyes rolling back into your skull as you cry and whine.

it feels like every single one of your nerve endings is being fanned and flamed, driving you absolutely apeshit like you've never been touched a day in your life.

"oh, baby... love."

"sh-shut up."

"that feel good?"

"keep—just keep going." you're begging, drool dripping from your lips as his cock massages that sticky, spongy bunch of nerves at an angle only his cock could hit. he's circling his hips under you, tongue tracing licks across your neck.

your pretty lace panties are ripped and disregarded as the night goes on, and your teddy is busting at the seams, sticking to sweat and dipping off your shoulders. kento's big hand reaches to cradle your swollen breasts, growling in your ear as he fucks you just right... so perfectly and deep that you can feel the slick cervix kisses every time he bottoms out.

you're crazy, and fucked off of five orgasms that night.

thank god for pregnancy hormones—thank god for your husband and all his raw talent. sure, he'll bicker softly just to ignite your needy fires, then he'd give you what you want, exactly how you want, until you're sick with it.

what a thoughtful husband.

[kkusuka]

pt. 2

your roommate was a strange man.

can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.

he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.

he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.

and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.

so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.

you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.

you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.

"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."

"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.

the room doesn’t take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."

and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.

"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"

"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.

"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."

you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.

"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"

"she's fine, garrick." 

'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.

"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.

"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"

they didn’t seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.

"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"

" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"

yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.

idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea

[elvinapandra]

POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

[bibbysstuff]

His favorite spot

[that1nerd-20]

When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

[readwritealldayallnight]

“Since you’re always stealing my water bottle, I got you your own. Look, even got it in your favourite colour!” You announce proudly, setting his new bottle down on the counter.

“S’not my favourite…” he murmurs barely loud enough for you to hear, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it aloud.

“What’s that, Si?”

“Black’s not my favourite colour.” He replies more steadily this time, surprising you with his answer.

“Oh. Really?” You clarify, to which he gives you a single curt nod. “I just thought- I mean everything you wear is black.”

“S’true.” He agrees, tilting his head to one side, as though he’s considering this for the first time himself. “Never really thought ‘bout it, but suppose it was, ‘til recently.”

“Why? What’s your favourite colour now?” You ask, curious to know what changed for him to have a new favourite colour all of a sudden.

Simon comes around closer to where you’re standing, leaning down enough to be face to face, gazing straight into your eyes as he holds a single finger up and points towards your eyes saying:

“Those right there, love. Most beautiful colour there is.”

“Also I’m probably still jus’ gonna drink from your bottle.”

“Simon, NO.”

[theorphicangel]

sukuna doesn't get anxious. not at all.

but when you haven't come home in hours, long after your friend's dinner was supposed to end that's when he gets a little antsy.

you'd left him to his own devices, a quick kiss on the cheek and you were out of the door in that pretty little dress. you said you'd be back by 11pm the latest.

sukuna stares at the kitchen clock on the wall. it reads 12:44.

but he doesn't get anxiety over you. you were probably chatting away to your friends and getting carried away like you always do with your yapping. but maybe he should have made you share your location with him the other day.

another thirty minutes pass and there's no sign of your return.

he's beginning to get restless. sukuna's already wiped down the counter three times, sorted out the cushions on the couch, watched an episode of whatever on netflix (but he wasn't paying attention to a single word that was said)

instead he keeps looking at his phone, waiting for it to ring - good news or bad news coming his way soon.

his stomach drops at the thought of you in trouble with no one around you to help. what if you did need his help? what if--

his thoughts are interrupted at the sound of the key entering the front door. you enter, soaked top to bottom, evidence that you clearly ignored the weather app before you left.

'where have you been?' his tone is impatient and snappy.

'jeez lemme get through the door first.' you stumble, soaked and uncomfortable as the door shuts behind you with a quiet slam.

'it's late.'

'and you're still up.'

'don't change the subject.'

'I lost track of time, we went back to a friend's house and my phone died.'

'and this friend doesn't have charging cables?'

'I was too deep into the conversation to know it died until I was about to leave.'

sukuna sits in silence, mulling over your words. you don't hear him correctly but if you could guess the words that left his mouth it was the curse of 'you damn women.'

'did you miss me?' you walk over to him and attempt to trap him in a hug. he pulls you off him, disgust at how cold and wet you are.

'go shower, I'll wait for you in bed.'

your face lights up, ready to make fun of him before his palm opens up to you.

'phone.'

you pass over your dead phone for him to charge.

'and i'm making you share your location with me.'

[specsthesecond]

Imagine how hard it must be getting out of bed in the morning with your massive orc husband passed tf out on top of you.

Snoring in your ear, arms slung over you to pull your back into his chest, his leg over yours too. You're not going anywhere lmao.

Feeling all his dead weight on you makes you realise how gentle he is with you when he's awake.

You have to shuffle around quite a bit before stirring him, even then he only digs his tusks into the crook of your neck and mumbles some sleepy gibberish.

Asking him to let you get up will get you nothing but a grumble as he brings the sheets up over your shoulders and traps you in a cozy prison.

The only possibilities for escape are:

1. Telling him you have to pee, in which he'll begrudgingly let you go. He follows you to the bathroom door, blanket around his shoulders, waiting for you to do your business. He'll then snatch you up the second you open the door and carry you back to bed so you can make up for lost cuddle time.

2. Waking him up with a morning fuck. Just grind back on him and he'll hum lowly, kissing up your neck, his cock waking up as he grinds back on you. Emptying his balls in your hole seems to be the best way to get him up and going for the day. Afterwards, you'll be fucked out in bed while he walks around the bedroom, all awake and cheery while getting dressed, making the bed, asking you what you want for breakfast and what the plans are for the day.

[satoblue]

a/n : pregnancy, children mention, suggestive, could be seen as a little side headcanon to this talk post

everyone assumes clan head satoru (who never left his clan to be a student at jujutsu tech) leads a boring intimate life. he has always been reserved ever since he was a child — stoic, sharp, and straight forward. he is a man of little words, adding to the impression that he is emotionally and physically distant. possibly cold towards everyone — even you.

but then, people start to notice something strange which contradicts the idea altogether.

you, his wife, are always pregnant.

it is quite bizarre. satoru has never once shown an ounce of affection towards you in public. not a fleeting touch, not even a single glance that lasts too long. and yet, you’ve been married for less than five years, and somehow — you’ve already given him multiple children.

the notion is amusing to many, especially the servants. whispers begin to spread amongst them as it does; that behind closed doors, the composed clan head they all know must be anything but cold… given that he clearly can’t seem to keep his hands off of his wife.

[deathofacupid]

gojo's relationship with sleep was… complicated. he seemed to view it as an optional activity, like flossing or paying taxes. you, on the other hand, considered sleep a sacred ritual, and dragging him to bed felt like trying to convince a hyperactive hummingbird to take a nap.

"psst," he whispered, loud enough to be heard in the next apartment. "hey."

you groaned, pretending to be a particularly heavy sleeper.

"hey," he repeated, poking your shoulder. you swatted his hand away, a silent leave me alone conveyed through the power of sleepy aggression.

"sweetheart. darling. my bestest friend. my favorite person in the entire universe. sugar-plum. chickadee. kitten-kins. schnukapussy."

"what?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

"do you want to play a game? like, a card game or something?"

"what?" you repeated, your brain still trying to process the concept of coherent sentences. "it's the middle of the night. why are you awake?"

"i'm bored. my brain won't shut up. it's like a radio stuck between stations."

"and you thought waking me up would fix that? now we're both going to be miserable," you grumbled, turning over.

"…so, about that game?" he asked, sounding genuinely hopeful.

you stared at him, resisting the urge to express your frustration with a well-placed pillow. "this is what happens when you eat a whole bag of candy before bed. you turn into a nocturnal gremlin."

he shrugged. "oops."

"don't 'oops' me. i'm trying to sleep."

"but you're awake now," he pointed out, with infuriating logic.

"that's not the point!" you sighed, pulling the covers over your head.

he gave you a look that said, "please? with a cherry on top?" and, against your better judgment, you caved. you sighed, pulling him closer. "fine. no games. but i'll do the hair thing. the one that makes you sleepy."

he settled against you, all warm and impossibly comfortable. "until i'm asleep?"

"yes," you said, keeping you eyes trained on him. "until you're asleep."

as you ran your hands through his white locks, he was out in minutes, snoring softly. you smiled, finally feeling yourself drift off.

then, just as you were about to fall asleep, your brain decided to stage a revolt. wide awake. you stared at the ceiling, wondering if you could convince gojo to share his ability to function on zero sleep. to say the least, this would be a long night.

[system-network]

The Small Cabin

Ermm, I may have gotten attached to my little drabble I made and now I kinda want to write about it more.. also this is more so found family than an x Reader!! If I use the x Reader tag it's probably just to get reach on here, my bad chat

<<Part 3>>

Muzzles and Hoodies

Sharp breaths left your mouth.

You were running through the forest, your legs forcing you to keep going.

It's been hours you think. Only one thought running through your mind, Keep moving.

Your body started aching, feet bleeding as bits of glass cut through your skin. You moved sluggishly throughout the forest, your eyes becoming heavy as the sun set.

It was dark once you sat down on the forest floor, letting your body take a rest from hours of moving. You wanted to curl up on yourself, your body begging to slip into unconsciousness.

A low clicking noise stopped you though, you held your breath as you listened to any more sounds.

After a while another clicking sound broke the silence, this time it was louder than before and you could hear dry leaves crunching underneath feet.

You couldn't stop the tears that left your eyes, I've been caught, I can't run now-

Thoughts filled your head as more crys left your mouth, the footsteps only became louder. You covered your ears, nails scratching the side of your head as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

Squeezing your eyes shut as tears ran down your face, please go away, please-

The footsteps stopped, you knew that they were now in front of you. You sat waiting, waiting for whoever stood in front of you to grab you.

But that didn't happen.

Something heavy and soft covered your feet, making you flinch.

Curiosity was eating at you. Why won't they leave? What did they give you? Why aren't they grabbing you?

You slowly prayed your hands away from your face, you didn't look at the person standing next to you. Your eyes landed onto whatever the person gave you.

It was a hoodie?

You looked up at the person this time, confusion on your face.

The man was tall, almost boyish-looking; but it was definitely a grown man.

He wore dirty brown boots, the bottoms of them covered in dried mud. He had black pants that were also covered in mud, the fabric around his knees were worn down. The man also wore a plain black T-shirt.

Your eyes finally drifted up to his face.

It was mostly covered, golden goggles covering his eyes as shaggy brown hair covered his forehead. The most interesting part about his appearance was the muzzle that was on his face.

The bars of the muzzle were close together, it looked like he couldn't fit his fingers through them if he wanted to.

“W-what are you doing out he-here-?” The man asked, his arm twitching as it hit his leg involuntary.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn't. Your throat was raw from not drinking water for days on end.

You tried again but only ended up making yourself cough. The coughing only made your throat even more sore, the pain shooting through you.

Doubling over, you continued to cough your lungs out. A burning sensation forced its way out of your mouth as you puked.

The burning sensation didn't stop as you continued to throw up on the forest floor, choked sobs managed to leave your mouth as you took deep breaths.

You soon felt hands on your forearms, forcing you to sit up straight. The man looked at you with furrowed brows, his mouth was moving but you couldn't understand the words he spoke.

Sobs continued to leave your mouth as you leaned into the man's hold. You didn't even know this man, but it was better than going back to wherever you came from.

The man tensed as you rested against him as you continued to cry. You heard shuffling as the man grabbed the hoodie again, he forced you off of himself gently.

“Up,” he said as he helped you move your arms.

He quickly forced the hoodie over your head and arms, the warmth of the fabric made you melt as you sniffled.

The man seemed like he was debating with himself for a few minutes before he decided what to do.

He slowly reached underneath your legs and back, picking you up in his arms.

He started to walk, you didn't know what direction he was walking towards; but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Your eyes grew heavy again, the warmth of the hoodie and the man's body soothed you. The quiet crunching of the leaves underneath his feet didn't help.

This was the first time in a while you felt safe. Your body curled slightly in his hold as you closed your eyes, letting sleep develop your body.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

giggling at the thought of you moving into ghosts house - barely furnished, almost looks like no one has lived in the damn place for years. he just shrugs, saying something about how he’s a minimalist when you call him on it. you beg him to atleast let you buy him some fucking decor, maybe a painting or two, maybe some damn curtains?

again, he just shrugs. telling you it’s a waste of money.

but his mind changes, if only a little, when a few months later the neighbour across the street approaches you as you’re getting in his truck.

“uh, hey, simon? do you think i could talk to you a minute?”

the guy is half scared to death to approach, and simon quirks a brow only for the fact that this is easily the first time he ever has. and so he nods, assuming it’s probably something rather important, gesturing for you to get in the car.

“i uh, dunno how to say this but. maybe you could, uh, get some curtains? i uh, ive looked out my window to see you two fucking far too many times. i’m not complaining but, i mean—“

simon blinks, then blinks again. before he bursts out laughing. “glad y’ve enjoyed the show.”

and when he gets back in the car, he just gives you a lopsided, boyish smile.

“mayb’ s’time for those curtains, love.”

[kkusuka]

this is in the "141 and john price's wife" universe. still gn pronouns. i also don't think price texts that much- old man syndrome.

the 141 absolutely have a group chat dedicated to pictures and information (porn) about their little wife.

it starts, as many silly things do, with johnny and a picture of you asleep on the couch. cuddled into the armrest covered in the tortilla blanket he'd gotten you as a gag gift, and it was just too good not to share. (although he only sent one of the thirty he actually took, he's gotta keep as much of you to himself as he can.)

then it was kyle with you in the yard, laying in the grass after cutting down branches in the sweltering heat (something john would never let you do if he'd know about it, but he appreciates the flush of your cheeks and the angle of the photo makes it seem as if you were under him doing another strenuous activity.)

and it continues like that for months, cute little pictures of you gardening with price, walking with simon, watching tv between kyle and johnny- just sharing the daily life of their pretty bird.

but the real nature of the group chat doesn’t start until simon sends a picture of you bent over, putting something in the oven, in the tiny, red daisy duke shorts that are only just long enough to be considered inappropriate for the public.

sr: fuckin' lucky that shit only takes 10 minutes to cook or we'd be in the kitchen all day.

soap: fuuuuuuuuckin' hell

kyle: don't rub it in simon, we'll be home in two days

sr: don't worry, i'll warm 'em up for you

price: Behave yourselves.

and it all just unravels from there.

john's the next culprit. he has loads and loads of less than decent pictures of you, perks of being the first husband, but he's not reaching into the stash for this one. he has a point to make: if anyone's getting off to pictures of his wife, he's gonna be the one sending them.

it's barely two hours after the other three left that something is sent into the chat. face down, ass up, cunt dripping with cum as price uses his thumb to keep your pussy open to the camera, the rest of his hand palm down on your ass, the ring on his finger glistening in the flash.

sr: fuckin' filthy captain

soap: BRING ME BACK, PUT ME IN CAPTAIN

kyle: tell 'em i said thank you

it's not surprising that the minute he comes back, johnny's on you. methodically placing the camera, making sure it captures all of you and his face buried between your thighs. it wasn't the first video sent into the chat but it's definitely one of the best ones.

your head thrown back, hands in his hair, gripping what you can so you can grind your pussy on his tongue. his phone is just close enough to hear your small pants and groans as he sucks on your swollen clit.

soap: i could spend the rest of my life right there

sr: you let 'em fuck yer face like that?

soap: lt i'd let 'em gag me

soap: then step on my dick

soap: then leave me on the floor to rot

*kyle, price, and sr disliked three messages*

soap: like you fuckers wouldn't

and kyle is not a man to be left out, but he is also not as keen on sharing his private time with you as johnny is. so there aren't videos coming from him, instead he has 4k close ups of your tits after he spent almost an hour sucking hickeys into every part of your chest he could reach.

and kyle is like an artist, he makes sure your hair is splayed out perfectly, and that you're just fucked out enough to give him a bright smile. he also makes sure that the locket they gave you, the one that's has their names engraved on the inside, sits perfectly above the swell of your boobs. and goddamn is he proud of his pictures. (it's not hard for you to look pretty in pictures because you're already pretty but kyle thinks he's the best at actually capturing it).

soap: another two things i would put my face between until i suffocate

*sr, price, and kyle disliked a message*

soap: go fuck urselves

and simon is just mean, fingers peaking under your panties, finding your clit just to sit there, finger pressed on your bud, only moving for a few seconds before falling still again; his other hand hold your hips down so you can't do anything but wait for him to move again. and he does it the entire length of the manchester game until your panties are completely soaked through.

soap: stone cold, lt. stone cold.

but before he can do anything, he has to take his picture so the other fools can remember what a whore you are for him. and because it's between games he'll let you sit on his dick and grind into him during commercial breaks. maybe he'll even film in and send it to the guys, let them see you drip all over his lap whole stretching to fit him in your cunt.

but whether his team loses or wins, he'll flip you over and fuck you into the couch cushions, so at least you get that!

then they're all away on a mission, and you know about their little chat (it's hard not to when suddenly they have a camera out every time you're in their vicinity.) so you take it upon yourself to give them their fix. and why not play around with them well you're ar it?

it starts when you go shopping merely three days after they left. they tear up your bras and underwear so obviously you would need to buy more eventually. but usually when you go shopping one of them is with you to share their opinions, but since they're away, you just have to send pictures instead!

a whole catalog, in facts. you've got angles, dressing room lighting, and a whole lot of time on your hands.

*you sent 22 photos to 'the bird house'*

you: i can't choose :(((

you: help me out?

kyle: give me 6 hours to fly home and i'll help you with anything

price: Looks great. But I can't tell from the pictures, you'll have to try them all on again when I get home.

soap: licking the screen isn't working, captain i think i need to go home.

*sr saved 22 photos to Camera Roll*

kyle: smooth riley, real smooth.

and of course it doesn't end there. you have a chance to torture them a little bit with zero consequences and you're going to take it.

but it takes a while for you to send videos, usually you send  your outfits, or the tiny bathing suit top you wear while tanning, even one of you in the kitchen in nothing but your tiny apron. (it's the only one that john does not appreciate, popping a boner between briefings as a captain is not hie proudest moment.)

but as the months go longer and longer, you get more and more desperate. your toys are reserved for times like this, a small bullet vibrator and a thick 8-inch dildo. it's nowhere near as nice as fucking your men but it'll have to do for the time being.

and you know them being away is not their fault and they'd be home in an instant if they could choose to be; but if you have to deal with your pent-upness, so do they.

so you set up your phone, leaning it on the lamp that sits on your bedside table, so it captures your entire body, covered only by sheer light-blue lingerie and your locket, as you sink down the length of your dildo, vibrator pressed to your clit. you send four different videos, one for each of them, in the order they came into your life (you think it's cute, they're one picture away from firebombing the whole country they're in and flying home).

you: just something to hold you over until you get back!

kyle: so good for us babe.

soap: yer evil bonnie.

soap: my arm can't keep up with this

sr: birdie thinks it's real funny now

you: i do

sr: not gonna be so funny when we get home, yeah? might have to give you a refresher about what happens teasing birds.

price: 6:30am tomorrow, get everything you need in order because you aren't moving for the foreseeable future.

*you loved a message*

[keypostos]

caleb is the biggest advocate of happy wife = happy life.

in the morning, he waits for you to wake up so he can attack your face with kisses. he starts by smoothing out your hair, poking at your cheeks, and running his fingers across your lips.

your giggles are worth missing that extra hour of sleep anyway.

he plants kisses on your cheeks, forehead, nose, and finalizes with a brief kiss on your lips, leaving you to rush in for one more. and who is he to deny his wife?

okay—technically—his girlfriend. but still.

after your slow morning, caleb decides to take you out for lunch. he holds you close when you walk; his arm is wrapped around your shoulder the entire time. when he feels you lean into him for more (of his body warmth, but he doesn’t have to know that), caleb explodes. he probably runs hotter after that too.

he leads you through grocery stores (“do you think we need this for the fridge?”), flower shops (“caleb, i think this would look great on our dresser”), and the tire shop (“pipsqueak, you really need to get these tires fixed. good thing you can always rely on me, though!”).

you browse for things to make his apartment more homey. he looks for items to stock your (our—as caleb likes to say) fridge with. you joke and bicker and hide your heads when you get stares from older ladies for being too loud. you’ll laugh about this when you get home.

later, for dinner, caleb decides he’ll cook for you at home with the groceries he bought today. he made a new special tonight: some kind of pasta with chicken.

and no matter how many times you insisted on helping, caleb used his evol to push you back onto the couch. but, when you snuck over to him and grabbed his waist, he surrendered. any reasonable man would. how could he not surrender when you nuzzled into him, begging him to let you do something.

at dinner, he cut up your chicken and fed you until you started making pregnancy jokes. what a dream that would be, caleb thought.

then, at night (probably 10pm), you two start heading to bed. caleb hops in the shower with you (“could this be my reward for cooking for you today?”) and runs his hand through your hair; shampoos and conditions it; rubs body wash all over you; and rinses you off.

you repeat the same actions to him, except you like to mess with him ten times more. you rub soap everywhere, but you paid special attention to his abs. and biceps.

though, caleb didn’t say a single thing. he had to fight back the urge to smirk when your hands rubbed up and down his arms. this might’ve been heaven for him.

when you got out, you asked (begged) if you could shave for him. caleb had been growing a bit of stubble, and you’ve always expressed your interest in shaving him since he started growing hair.

so he props you up on the bathroom sink, standing in between your legs while you carefully run the razor up and down his jaw. you’re so gentle with him—much gentler than he usually is when shaving himself.

your fingers prod all over his jawline and cheeks. your featherlight touch sends sparks all over his face, and he can’t help but break out into a smile (even when you scold him). scratch what he said before—this is heaven to him.

when you’re done, you analyze his face as if he’s a sculpture. you trace your fingertips down the slope of his jaw; the high rise of his cheekbones, and over his lips for fun. he playfully tries to bite your finger before you swat at him.

the two of you brush your teeth, and you already know caleb will be bumping hips with you throughout the whole process. what should take two minutes turns into ten—with both you and caleb messing with each other by tickling, pinching, or hugging.

once you two are in bed, your face is pressed into caleb’s chest. he rests his chin on top of your head, and you feel his breaths coming down on you. when you look up at him with glowing, love-sick eyes, caleb presses kisses all over the top of your head.

you angle yourself up slightly, and caleb perks up eyebrow in suspicion. even in the dark, caleb can tell you’re smiling when you push yourself up and kiss him on the lips. it’s a deep kiss: one where you’re thanking him, trying to please him, and loving him all at once.

caleb is on you instantly, with one hand holding your face and the other cradling the small of your back. he puts all of the energy he has left into the kiss, before pulling away and slumping his head on the pillow like a love-starved dog.

“thank you. for today,” you murmur, inching yourself closer to him. “i appreciate everything you do for me,” you press one more kiss onto his lips before you fall into the hands of sleep, “i love you, caleb.”

oh yeah, caleb thinks, happy wife, happy life.

i wrote this in 30 mins can u tell

also idk what’s up w my borders im writing this on my phone so they’re a bit janky loll sorry

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento who, when asked what his sexual orientation is, simply responds "my wife".