campus heartthrob and resident fuckboy GOJO SATORU shocks everyone by going exclusive with you
gojo satoru settling down was as unlikely as catching the hour hand of a clock moving.
notorious for being a lady's man , he had it all going for him. he was all bedroom eyes and cheesy smiles that can make anyone's knees go weak. he was full of loud laughter and nonchalant swagger.
like he didn't give a damn.
cigars for breakfast, skipping lunch to attend classes if he felt so, hard liquor with his frat boys and a different woman in his bed at night—for dinner of course.
he had the face, he had the body, he had the charisma. none could blame the poor souls who wanted a taste, even for just one night.
and satoru. oh. satoru was just a guy. who was he to turn away the beautiful ladies? he didn't chase after them, it was just his luck that they came to him first.
then he caught his first glimpse of you. at his party, looking so out of place that made his eyes zero in on you. not even a cup in your hands. looking so good that it made him want to do something bad.
so he slid up to your side with his usual confidence. started a conversation he could hardly care about. and ultimately, was shocked into silence when you hit him with a "sorry, that pea in your bed is going to bruise my back".
rejected him.
rejected him.
and thus began satoru's chase. the chase for your heart.
the local campus gossip forum ruminated , 'the heartthrob, gojo, has been caught getting rejected by unknown woman. the university has since, seen a rise in the number of women left unsatisfied as gojo's bedroom door has been closed for shocking reason. is a reform on the way? is exclusivity on the horizon? '
heads turned as the usually absent satoru was seen attending classes almost to the point of regularity.
gasps rang out when someone leaked a picture of him handing you flowers. red. roses.
so awfully cliche that you couldn't even blame your past self for the disgust on your face in the aforementioned leaked picture.
women raged when a video of him begging you while chasing after you on the sidewalk surfaced in the stories of satoru's frat bro's.
the man who was known for being as careless with his words as people are with their phones after a year, was suddenly mindful of his vocabulary.
when before, smirks and winks were handed out to the girls so easily—now they were reserved just for you it seemed.
and the crazy part of it all? you made him run. you made him grovel. you made him fix his failing grades. made him fix his fillipiant attitude.
and made him take 2 hiv tests.
made him give a damn.
but you couldn't change his cliché-ness. he was a sappy romantic. he snuck candy in your stationery, climbed up your window ledge and left flowers in your hair when you weren't paying attention to him.
he even started gifting you books which you had talked about in that first meeting. at the frat party. and that was when you caved in. not enough to let him in your bed. but enough to go out with him.
the frat boys tripped over themselves when they caught satoru in a white formal shirt and black slacks. a red rose in his pocket. the picture of a lover boy. the change was not sudden, he had been chasing after you for months . but it was shocking nonetheless.
and satoru. oh. satoru was in love. the goodness tasted way better on his tongue than cigar smoke. your perfume on his clothes smelled better than nightly sex.
and your hand in his made his heart race faster than any orgasm he had ever had.
he never imagined himself to be tamed by a woman. yet here he was. and he had no regrets.
not when people all around him gaped at your fingers scratching the hair at his nape.
not when his boys hollered at the tattoo of your name over his heart.
and certainly not when you finally let him in your bed.
he still had a long way to go though. to prove that he was there to stay. to prove that he was exclusive to you.
so as he lay stroking your back as you slept on his chest, he planned the perfect little outing to take you on the next day. (and ways to woo you so that you would invite him to your bed again)
satoru can‘t help but get distracted when you start talking. . . ૮꒰˶ - ˕ -꒱ა
satoru swears he’s listening to you.
he nods at the right moments, tilts his head when you emphasize something, throws in a casual “yeah?” or “that so?” that makes it seem like he‘s all ears.
he really tries to pay attention to your words, but the thing is.. the second you start talking, his mind starts drifting.
“—and so i was thinking of taking that mission,” you say, arms loosely crossed. “it’s in a pretty empty area, which is good.”
satoru hums in faux acknowledgment. “mm-hm.”
he can already picture it— you‘ll definitely ask him to come along. oh you.. you’re looking up at him, suddenly shy, fingers tugging at your uniform.
“satoru…” you say, voice softer than usual. “we’ll be all alone out there… won’t you come with me?”
you look away right after, like you’re embarrassed you even asked.
oh, he’s definitely dreaming now.
the two of you walking through empty roads together. sitting beside each other on the train ride home while the sunset pours through the windows. maybe you‘ll accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder..
maybe—
a smack to his arm.
“hey! earth to gojo!”
he blinks, returning to the present.
you’re looking at him with a small frown now. “did you even hear anything i just said?”
“…yeah,” he says, although very unconvincing.
you raise an eyebrow. he doesn’t break under your gaze, but there‘s a moment of silence between you.
you sigh. “i said i might take that mission in the empty area. it should be quick.“
“riiight,” he says, acting like he totally knows. “that one.”
your eyes narrow. “you really didn’t hear a word, did you?”
“i did!” he insists.
but his thoughts are still stuck on the version of you that only exists in his head— soft voice, shy glance, asking him to come like it matters if he’s there.
later, when you walk away still mildly annoyed, satoru stays where he is with his hands in his pockets.
he really does listen to you.. just not in the way you think.
“blah blah.. proper name.. place name.. backstory stuff..” — how toru hears reader
thinking about gaz, who likes to have control in the bedroom...
18+ mdni !!! (smut, sprinkle of fluff)
cw: sub!fem!reader, dom!kyle, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, use of 'sir', ment. of control issues & controlling behavior, i think that's it ?, word count: 1.3k
To put it quite frankly, your boyfriend Kyle is what most people would call a control freak. It’s not from a place of malicious intent; if anything, it’s the opposite.
Most people assume the worst, that he’s reading every text you send and demanding you never speak to someone again. In reality, it looks more like having each other’s location, ordering your meals for you, picking out your outfits, and smaller, more subtle things.
It may seem like a lot to others, but you don’t mind it at all. His line of work is a lot, it leaves a toll. Out in the field, he can’t plan for every single variable– he can’t keep everyone safe– but at home, with you, he can have complete control.
In some ways, it transfers over to your sex life, too. You’ve always been more submissive, but it didn’t really become a thing until the first time the two of you slept together. Yet, you can tell there’s more that he wants– craving something he can’t quite name. He tries to be subtle about it, but you watch him too closely not to notice it.
It’s obvious in the way his hands always grab your wrists when he’s on top of you, pinning them high above your head. You see it when he’s got you kneeling in between his legs, always wanting your hands resting behind your back.
You’re the one to bring it up first. Sitting in his lap, waiting for the movie to be dull enough that he’s open to chatter. “I’ve been thinking about something,” you start, hands loose around his shoulders.
“Should I be worried?” He says, doing that thing where he tries– and fails– to sound like he’s joking.
You softly shake your head with a smile before continuing. “How do you feel about bondage?”
You can feel his body freeze underneath you. “Bondage? What, tying you up like a hostage?" He says, getting defensive without even meaning to.
“Not like a hostage. More like typing me up like I’m yours to do whatever you want with– yours to control.”
He swallows, and you can feel him slowly getting harder underneath you. “You’d be okay with that? With… me doing that?”
“I trust you,” you say as if it’s just that simple– that easy to let go.
It took several days for the ropes he’d picked out to arrive– soft and silky in a beautiful light pink color. Your hands are tied tight to the bed frame, something he’d called a bowline knot, and you can see the medical shears sitting out on the bedside table.
His hands roam your naked body, gently caressing your skin. “So gorgeous, love, can’t believe you’re lettin’ me do this,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss against your chest.
His lips trail further down your body until he’s eye level with your bare cunt. He doesn’t touch you– not like you want him to– he just hovers. You can feel his breath near your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
He knows what he’s doing, knows that any other time you’d have your hand on the back of his neck– it makes you instinctively strain against the ropes. “What’s wrong, darling?” he coos, his eyes never leaving your dripping cunt.
“Need you to touch me, please, sir!” you beg, your hole clenching around nothing.
His hands grip your thighs, spreading them even further apart. “Like this?” You whine, shaking your head when he chuckles low at you. “Gotta be specific, love.”
Heat creeps down your body before settling in your lower stomach. You close your eyes, knowing you won’t be able to say it if you’re looking at him. “I need you to touch my pussy, please, sir, need your thick fingers inside me.”
A sharp gasp falls from your lips when you finally feel his fingers glide between your folds. The second, the digits are slick enough, he’s gently pushing them past your entrance, watching as your cunt stretches to accommodate them.
Your mind doesn’t know what to focus on: the feeling of silk knots on your wrists, the tiniest ache from the position you're in, or his fingers knuckle deep inside you, scissoring you open– preparing you for his cock.
His tongue starts to lap at your clit, tracing varying directions and shapes up against the bud. A string of spit falls on the corner of his lips as he pulls away from your pussy.
A tiny cry leaves your lips, a sudden empty feeling taking over your cunt. “It’s okay, love, got somethin’ better for you,” he promises, slowly lining the head of his heavy cock with your entrance.
He pushes into you agonizingly slowly, and you want nothing more than to sink yourself onto him. “Sir, please, faster.” You regret your choice in words the second he smiles up at you.
“Okay.” It should be an agreement, but it feels more like a threat.
He pulls out of you almost entirely, slamming roughly back into you before you can even process the loss of contact. His pace is fast and harsh; every thrust screams a sarcastic ‘Is this what you wanted?’.
Your body’s limp, arms above your head as you lie there and take what he gives you. Your mouth’s wide open, broken moans falling from your lips each time his hips slam against you.
“You said, fuck,” He cuts himself off with a grunt. “You begged me to go faster– should’ve been more specific,” he teases before crashing his lips into yours.
Every breathy sound you make gets swallowed by his mouth. His hips never once falter, and as he twitches inside of your throbbing cunt you can feel how close he is– how close you both are.
He pulls away, lips swollen and pupils blown wide. “Not gonna last, love, gotta tell me where you want me to cum.”
It’s an unfair request, you both know it, your minds melted, and you’re barely capable of saying anything other than broken pleas.
“Mm, want, hng–” you try to vocalize it, but the only sounds that leave your mouth are pathetic cries of pleasure.
He smirks at you, clearly proud of himself. “I’d tell you to point but, well, I don’t think that’d be fair, would it?” If you were able to, you'd scoff at him– instead, you just whine and struggle against the restraints.
“Guess I’ll have to ask her then.” His hand covers your mouth, eyes trailing down to your cunt.
The noises filling the room are nothing short of wet and obscene. “Hmm, think she’s telling me to cum inside her, yeah?” He glances up at you, his hips faltering the second you nod up at him, teary-eyed.
All it takes is him finally touching your clit again to make you fall apart on his cock. A shiver wracks your body, your wrists tugging at the ropes, as you let go.
His hips snap against you one final time before he twitches inside you, spilling his cum deep in your cunt with a low groan.
You wince as he pulls out of you, a sticky mess of fluids dripping down your thighs.
One of his hands rests on your upper back, the other gently unties the ropes before tossing them to the side. He carefully grabs your wrists, inspecting you for any sign of bruising or soreness.
“I’m okay, Kyle, I promise,” you whisper, a shy smile on your lips when he presses gentle kisses where the ropes once sat on your skin.
He pulls you on top of him, the two of you softly falling against the mattress with a giggle. “Thank you, love,” he mumbles, arms wrapped loosely around your waist.
You hum in response, eyes fluttering as that tired feeling threatens to take over your body. “Love you,” you mumble against his chest.
“Love you too, petal,” he says, glancing down to find you fast asleep against his chest.
could you write switch megumi where reader edges him (handjob, blowjob, the whole shabangg and praises him and when he gets annoyed, reader only calls him a good boy and lets him come when he finally listens and gives in to the pleasure) and the when he finally comes he’s pissed and in turn edges reader. another thing that would be soo scrumptious to include is like megumi rubbing his tip on reader over her panties and refusing penetration until she begs and he degrades her . also could you make it emogumi x girly reader? the way i need him 🤤 tyyy ilyyy
you lick megumi's tips for the nth time. you are edging him because he is being bratty. he loves to be in control but you wanted to try something new. with all the praise you've given him, he feels shy, and he hates it.
your tongue feels good on his tip, warm and wet. he can't help but let out the softest groan known to man. he wants to be in control, but seeing you like this has him feeling things he hasn't felt before.
"fuck." he whispers. he hears you giggle and he scoffs. "shut the fuck up."
you smile, pulling away from his tip and pecking his lips. "you like it?"
he rolls his eyes, pushing you back down. your lips attach to his tip, licking him all up. you whine against his tip, making him throw his head back. you bring a hand up to his thick base, pumping him slowly. his legs start to tremble gently as you pleasure him.
the feeling gets overwhelming so quickly and he feels himself get close. "fuck fuck fuck." he whispers. he is so close, his breathing picks up and he's about to tip over.
you pull away, smiling at him teasingly. he groans, mad at you for doing that to him yet again. you just giggle. "will you be a good boy?"
he nods immediately. he doesn't even think about how subby he's being. the only thought in his mind is getting to cum in your mouth. you smile, pecking his lips and wrapping your hand around his cock.
"so pretty, baby." you whisper. you pump his cock with a fast pace, leaning down to his red hot tip. he whines softly, gripping onto your hair and imagining filling your mouth. he feels the overwhelming feeling again.
"fuck, suck me please. ngh please!" he begs, as you finally suck him off. the warmth of your mouth sends him over the edge. he cums in your mouth, panting and whining. you smile, tasting his sweet flavor.
when you pull off you give him a sweet smile. "good boy."
megumi nearly snaps. he pushes you onto the bed. "you think you can get away with it, huh?"
you squeal, falling on your back. he hovers over you, laughing at the look in your eyes. "you never think about consequences."
he starts to rub his tip over your soaked panties, making sure to hit your clit each time. you whine, pouting at him. "gumi, fuck me."
he shakes his head, smiling wickedly at you. "nuh uh."
he caresses your panties with his cock, enjoying the feeling of your wetness. "you wanted to mess with me. now you have to beg."
he slides a finger over your panties, rubbing your bud through the cloth. "so wet. is it all for me? you really think of me like this?"
you whine, trying to push his hand away. "just fuck me, gumi!"
he doesn't listen. he continues teasing you, kissing your soaked panties and pressing his tongue flat on the cloth. he meets your eyes, smiling at you when he sees how desperate you are.
"please, gumi!" you pant softly. "want you."
he smirks. "yeah? you want me? how bad?"
you frown, tugging him closer. "so bad."
megumi presses a finger to your clothes cunt. "i can tell."
you whine again. he just laughs at you, finally pushing your panties to the side. he smiles, kisses your soaked pussy and looks at you.
"i'm gonna ruin this cunt."
i didnt know how to write the emo part so its not really added but i hope thats okay :( i really liked this one
You’d just gutted the last hostile in the safehouse—clean, brutal, throat to navel in one fluid slice with your knife. Blood sprayed across your tac vest, warm and bright, and you didn’t even flinch. Just wiped the blade on your thigh like it was nothing and shot Simon that sharp, feral little smile he’d kill to see every day.
He’s been hard since the first scream.
Now he’s locked in the shitty barracks shower, water scalding his back, fist wrapped tight around his cock while the image of you tearing that man open loops in his head. You, the newest member to join 141. The one person who can go toe-to-toe with him and actually make him sweat.
He pictures you turning that knife on him.
“Want one from you..” he mutters under his breath while is free hand traces one of the old scars littering his skin. “Fuckin’ mark me proper.”
His hand moves faster. He imagines you straddling his hips in full kit, that same knife pressed under his jaw, the tip just breaking skin. A thin line of blood trickling down his throat while you grind down on him, wet and hot through your fatigues. You’d lean in, teeth at his ear, voice low and deadly..
“Bleed for me, Riley.”
Simon groans, hips jerking. He can see it—your fingers smearing his own blood down his throat and chest, over the old scars, claiming new territory. You’d ride him while you carved your initials just above his heart…something only the two of you would ever see. Every time he looked in the mirror he’d remember exactly how you looked soaked in someone else’s blood and still greedy for his.
His fist tightens. He’s close already, breathing ragged.
“Fuck—“ he hisses, “mark me. Make it hurt.”
He comes hard, thick ropes striping the shower wall, the fantasy still burning behind his eyes; you licking the fresh cut you just gave him, tasting iron and claiming him with your mouth while he’s still twitching inside you.
Simon slumps against the tile, chest heaving, cock still half-hard at the thought.
One day he’s going to ask you for real.
And he already knows you’ll say yes—after all, you’re just as crazy as he is.
he’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch in between your legs, his head resting against your lower abdomen.
his fingers moved over the controller with practiced precision, some first person shooter game hooked up to the television.
you’re playing with his hair, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. but you were beginning to get bored of this. it was a saturday night, and you had gone over to your boyfriends dorm expecting him to at least pay attention to you.
you got an idea.
your voice was soft, hands stilling in his hair as you spoke, “hey.”
“hm.”
“do you wanna eat me out?”
he paused for a moment, fingers stilling on the controller, before he began to shift.
“…yeah.”
just like that, the game was forgotten.
GAME OVER flashed on the screen, but neither of you cared.
megumi was now kneeling in front of the couch, his face buried between your thighs as his fingers gently ran up and down your bare legs.
“ngh.. like that..” you moaned, fingers entangled in his hair, gripping hard. it only egged him on further. he even quietly whimpered into your pussy as you tugged at his hair.
his tongue made your toes curl, low, raw moans tearing from your throat. he knew how to make you feel good, and he would never miss an opportunity to do so.
“f-fuck.. gonna cum- don’t stop..” you whined, eyes squeezing shut, head thrown back against the couch cushions as you felt your release build.
megumi kept going, his hands gripping your thighs tight. his tongue lapped at your sweet juices, drinking in your slick like water. he moaned softly into your folds, he wasn’t even touching himself, your pleasure just got him off so good.
you came with a broken cry, your hands tight in his hair. megumi didn’t stop until you were shaking with overstimulation.
he pressed his cheek against your inner thigh, panting and looking up at you with that soft, puppy-eyed gaze.
his voice was quiet as he finally spoke, cheeks tinted slightly pink.
once again i am thinking about simon riley's bratty!missus and her fucking awful attitude even though her heart is full of love.
sometimes you're a pain in the ass just because you can be.
sprawled out on the couch, deliberately taking up the entire thing so there's no room for him when he gets out of the shower. when he asks you to move, you just look up at him with big eyes and fluttering lashes and a massive grin plastered all over your face and whisper, “no.”
simon stares at you for a beat, realizing what kind of mood you're in, then simply reaches down, wraps his hands around your ankles and yanks you towards him.
before you get a chance to even squeak, you're on your stomach, one of his hands holding both of yours behind your back, the other landing on your ass with a smack.
“yer an ‘orrible woman, you know that, don't you love?” he mutters - fond, not angry, not even a hint of malice in the words - head tilting to the side as he watches the way you arch into the next spank, knowing you're more than content with your situation. “my fuckin’ ‘orrible woman, though.”
ten minutes later you're curled in his lap, pressing soft kiss to the underside of simon's jaw like you weren't just testing every ounce of his patience for fun.
john and nikolai have had more than their fair share of spats over the years. insults hurled, punches thrown, low-blows traded. twenty-two years is a long time to call someone a friend. there was bound to be a couple of bumps in the road, but never anything they couldn’t come back from. until now, that is.
john price would like to consider himself a benevolent man. he’s not beyond reason, he doesn’t hold unnecessary grudges, he’s happy to put the past behind him, in most cases. honestly, he never imagined that nikolai could do anything he’d think was unforgivable. it’s nikolai, for god’s sake. his best friend. his dearest comrade. his most trusted confidant. this is the man he calls when he needs to bury a body. the one he’d run to if the sky fell. he’s the one john would want at his side while he laid on his deathbed. they’ve killed for each other, countless times, taken bullets for each other, made promises that they’ll take to the fiery pits of hell.
nikolai’s his friend. his brother, in everything but blood. the other half of his soul, if you will.
at least, he was.
that was before nikolai decided to fuck his kid. his only child. his pride and fucking joy. the same man who held him while he cried about the divorce. the same one he confided in when your mother took you and moved you far, far away, where he could only visit once, maybe twice a year. the one he bragged to when you graduated school, then when you got accepted to university, then when you got your first adult job.
john’s forgiven nikolai for plenty over the years, things that most men would draw blood over, but this — this is a line he never knew he had to draw.
it isn’t the first time he’s dropped by nikolai’s unannounced. it’s been an unspoken, iron-clad agreement for decades that, if and when one of them needed something, anything, they turned to the other. it isn’t the first time that he’s stumbled upon the russian in a compromising position, either. usually, they would laugh about it. john would say he was sorry, and nikolai would shrug it off, because their friendship was worth more than a good time with a stranger.
but this time, it isn’t a stranger — it’s you. his kid. and his best friend. you, in nothing sans your underwear and a sweatshirt too large to be your own, strewn across nikolai’s lap like it were made to cradle you. too comfortable. too familiar. too domestic.
that’s the worst part, somehow. he knows, immediately, that this was not some spur of the moment decision. it wasn’t like you ran into him at a pub and didn’t recognize each other, or that you were both drunk and not thinking straight.
it’s a tuesday night, and nikolai’s at home, watching cartoons, with a lapful of you, petting your hair and nosing at your cheek like he’s got the fucking right. that’s not something you do with a one night stand. it’s not something nikolai does with anyone, at all, because he always claimed that he would never let anyone, no matter how lovely, clip his wings. and yet.
you look horrified, your earlier bliss gone in the blink of an eye, trying desperately to grab for the blanket you’d thrown aside to protect your lower half. but nikolai — he doesn’t even flinch. he manages to sweep you off of his lap and get to his feet a split second before john’s heavy fist strikes him square in the face. he doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t react at all, really, just sighs deeply through his nose, and levels john with a look so cold it would’ve sent a shiver down his spine if his rage hadn’t already boiled his blood.
he should’ve known something was off. nikolai’s been distant lately, and, while that in itself isn’t unusual for the man, flighty as he is, it’s unlike him to have been so hard to reach. not literally, he showed up when he was needed, but mentally. john summed it up to the toll of war, which they all struggle with now and again. he should’ve known better. but in no world would he have suspected this.
“you bastard,” he doesn’t even look your way. he can’t stomach it. “i should shoot you dead, you slimy piece of shit!”
but nikolai — nikolai doesn’t regret a goddamned thing. not even as john’s trigger finger twitches like he’s imagining what his brains may look like splattered across the persian rug you picked out last month.
john could kill him, right here and now, and he still wouldn’t regret it.
truth be told, he didn’t know who you were, not at first. he hadn’t the slightest clue. he’d never met you, hadn’t seen a picture of you since you were a babe. at first, you were merely a sweet soul in search of a safe place to land, and he was a only man with a soft spot for broken things.
you were young, and pretty, so easily flustered, clinging to each and every scrap of affection he dished out like you’d been starving for it. by the time he found out, he was too far gone — not that it mattered.
because john’s version of your story and yours are two very different accounts.
the way john told it, he did the best he could. he called as often as he was able, visited whenever his job allowed, kept tabs on you and all of your accomplishments, loved you as wholly and as truly as any father should. and, maybe, to him, it really was that simple.
but that’s not the version of the story you knew. to you, it was missed birthdays and christmases, it was waiting by the phone until bedtime came and your mom dragged you away, it was countless unanswered letters, it was being bullied in school because, while your peers got to go home to two parents, you barely had one, what with your mother’s two jobs and endless string of boyfriends. it was being made to grow up too fast because no one in your life was willing to nurture the child within. it was searching for a father’s love in every corner of the world because yours wasn’t around to give it.
but nikolai did. he gave it gladly, and in abundance, and never asked for anything in return. he was willing to be anything you needed him to be. sometimes, a lover, and sometimes, something else altogether.
he could he turn his back on you, knowing what he knows? knowing that he enabled it? he couldn’t. he didn’t. he won’t.
“you do not want to do this, john.” he warns, trying his damndest to position himself between you and your father. he knows john would never hurt you, at least not physically, but you shouldn’t have to see this, either. just a moment ago, you were so happy. warm, safe, and at peace in his arms. and now … well, this certainly isn’t how he had intended for your night to go.
he was destined to find out eventually, nikolai knows that. he would have told him himself, he was only waiting for you to be ready. he’d hoped, though, that this part might happen when you didn’t have to bear witness to it.
“the hell i don’t!” the captain spits, nostrils flaring, teeth bared. he’s beyond angry, beyond reasonable. nikolai can’t blame him, truly, but he also knows that his fury isn’t nearly as justified as he believes it to be. he was hardly much of a father to you to begin with. “they’re my kid, nik! mine! what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“lower your voice,” he won’t shout in front of you. god knows you’re scared enough as is. he won’t say any of the things he wishes to say, won’t point out john’s absence, his fabrications, or the damage he’s done to you, because you don’t need to hear it, even if he does. and that’s the difference between john and nikolai. even now, your father isn’t thinking about you. he’s thinking about how he’s been betrayed, about his friend going behind his back.
“oh, you fuckin’—” john goes for his gun, as nikolai figured he would, his hand halfway to his holster when your bare feet hit the floor, your eyes wide and glossy.
something strangled, confused between a sob and a shout, catches in your throat, and john, for the first time, looks at you. nikolai’s arm extended, protecting you from him, your cheeks damp, hands shaky where they grip your blanket for dear fucking life. the captain pauses, tongue running over his teeth, and nikolai sees the war waging in his mind.
his hand drops, and nikolai can breathe again. at least john loves you enough not to kill him right in front of you. it doesn’t count for much, but’s it’s something.
“fuck you, nik.” the man, quivering like a bow string pulled taut, has one foot out the door already, his back turned like he can’t stand to look at either of you any longer. it’s for the best. there’s no bloodless resolution to this. nikolai sorely doubts it’s over.
the front door slams hard enough that a painting’s knocked off of the front room’s wall. it was one of your favorites, too. a shame. he’ll find a suitable replacement. but only after he’s soothed you.
“your face,” you fret, lower lip wobbling, arms wrapped around your middle like you’re resisting the urge, the need, to reach for him. it’s a sorry sight. a regression. you were getting so comfortable, you finally stopped doubting your place here, and this — it’ll have set you back.
but nikolai’s patient.
“i’m fine, lapushka, come here, come here,” he coaxes you into his arms without hesitation, a big hand cradling the back of your head, cheek pressed to your hair. “shh, now. i’ll handle it, hm? everything will be okay, i promise you.”
and it will be. with or without john’s surrender. if keeping you happy, safe, means cutting him out of your life — both of your lives — so be it. he’ll have a choice to make. nikolai made his long ago, and he has no intentions on changing his mind.
you sniffle against his chest, hiccuping as you try, valiantly, to catch your breath, too stubborn, too scared, to cry openly. he holds you a bit tighter.
“shh, i’m here. papochka’s here. everything will be okay, malysh.”
(Captain John Price x F!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley)
Summary: A tipsy Halloween night out with the 141 has you craving your commanding officers, who both happen to be dressed as one of the sexiest slashers.
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dub-con bc of Alcohol, dirty filthy nasty dancing, mask kink, size kink, grinding, freaked out thoughts, reader loves pink and is feminine, unedited but also a rewrite
WC: ~ 4.6K
The five of you walked into the dimly lit club and were immediately engulfed with the sounds of an entrancing beat that dictated the flow of the crowd ahead of you.
You, Soap, and Gaz had done a number of shots before leaving base under the amused gazes of your two commanding officers. Soap and Gaz were tied, each downing 6 shots, while you’d only been able to stomach 4 and kind of a half. You knew that if you’d had anymore in that short span of time, the boys might have to carry you out of the club.
It was Halloween night and the boys had all decided to dress as figures from classic horror films. Soap had decided to emulate Chucky, with a bright striped shirt, a pair of overalls and a cheap red halloween wig. Gaz felt that the Candyman might have been a good fit, so he tugged on a faux fear coat from who knows where, and donned a plastic hook for a hand. Your commanding officers however? The two had decided that Ghostface was the best fitting costume, seeing that there was almost always a duo behind the classic slasher. It was the quickest costume to get into.
You, on the other hand, were absolutely sick of being in camo, stiff pants, t-shirts, and boots, so you decided to be a fairy.
A bright pink fairy.
You ordered the cutest flowy wig you could find, a pink flower crown, a sparkly pink mini skirt, a danceable baby pink pair of heels, a pair of pink wings, and a fluffy pink top that ruffled around your hips like the petals of a flower. You went all out with your makeup; layered on the blush, faux freckles, various shades of pink eyeshadow, lashes, and a soft neutral lip.
To say you looked gorgeous was an understatement. You felt soft and feminine and surprisingly none of your teammates heckled you for being pretty in pink.
A part of you wondered what the club goers thought as they watched the lot of you walking in. A bright pink fairy with a group of slashers at her side.
Intimidating or ironic?
The cold air from outside barely had an impact on you, Gaz, and Johnny since the 3 of you felt a layer of warmth stemming from the liquor in your system.
The group found a booth that was tucked into a corner next to the dancefloor with clear visualization of all entry and exit points. You dropped your purse off at the table with the boys and made it your mission to lay eyes on the bar.
Once your eyes landed on the packed counter, you buzzed through the crowd in long confident strides, with a smile plastered on your face, and a bundle of “excuse me’s” ready on the tip of your tongue. You squeezed your way through the bunch of people crowding the bar and rested an arm on the polished wood, readying yourself to order a round for the table.
You just barely flipped your hair off of one shoulder when your gaze landed on a tall, ever imposing ghostface making his way toward you. The liquor running through your system blurred your ability to make distinctions between who was Price and who was Simon. The black drapes that flowed over the man’s body ruined any chance of you clocking any distinguishing features. You’d hoped that the man would say something, so you could place his identity.
Your lidded eyes traced their way down his massive body as he stopped and stood behind you, clearly at the ready like a guard dog. He pushed just a bit further forward so that he was right next to you leaning on the wooden counter.
It wasn’t difficult for the man to take notice of the way your hazy eyes trailed down his body.
Subtlety and drunkenness never mixed well, so your mind wandered.
Either man could be perched next to you as your mind ruffled through a list of their shared traits. They were both large and intimidating and their presences had already commanded any room they entered. Being masked and swallowed by a sea of black increased the intimidation factor tenfold.
Simon being masked was completely normal and had grown on you, but in the beginning it was unnerving and a point of anxiety for you, not being able to distinguish features and all. You'd grown to rely on reading his body language. Simon’s commitment to being masked had grown on you so much that you’d had a number of dreams of him masked, geared up and breathless, pressing into you.
The liquor was starting to warm your body in other ways and standing next to the unidentifiable behemoth of a man fluttered something deep inside of you.
You hadn’t even realized that you were still staring at the man with lazy, doe-like eyes and your bottom lip tugged between your teeth. Your gaze flicked up toward his eyes and a warmth flushed through your face as you realized you’d been caught.
You cleared your throat and flipped your hair in his direction with a soft smile and asked, “You playing babysitter tonight?”
His head tilted a bit under your stare and the action had you remembering what your purpose for being at the bar was. Before he could respond you turned and attempted to wave down one of the bartenders that was bouncing back and forth like a pinball in a machine.
“Depends. How much you plan on drinkin’?” He huffed and moved a step closer to you so that the sides of your hips bumped into each other. The closeness allowed him to rest his gloved hand along the small of your back.
The palm on your back that was almost inappropriately close to your ass, covered a considerable amount of space and was warm as a furnace.
The touch had you wondering what it would feel like if he dipped it just a bit lower and cupped the plush flesh that sat just below.
You pulled your lip harder between your teeth as your mind painted a picture of the gloved extremity sliding upward and around your neck or dipping even lower underneath your skirt.
You should have been making an effort to find out who the voice belonged to and not fantasizing about the size of his hands. Your cloudy mind and the music around you made it hard to pinpoint how deep the voice was and whether or not it was a Manchester or London accent.
He held his other arm out in front of him with his card in hand, name facing away from you and the bartender almost immediately turned his attention to the mountain of a man next to you. Your thighs clenched at how easily his action commanded attention.
“What can I get you, boss?” The bartender's gaze was locked onto your teammate but that black, masked gaze was frozen onto you, chin just barely jutting toward you as he waited for you to respond.
Your breath caught in your throat at the action before you moved to answer the man.
“3 shots of Tequila and 2 bourbons, please.” The bartender nodded his head, went to work before grabbing the man’s card.
The hand resting on your back rubbed a small affirming circle, before you felt a soft pat above your bottom and then a complete removal of the paw. You had to fight a whine from leaving your mouth at the loss of touch.
The length of time between your last passionate, touch filed escapade and now had left you absolutely craving any and every form of touch. It didn’t help that Price was always physically affectionate; a pat on the back here, a curt side hug there, a quick grab and shake of your shoulders as he applauded you for a job well done. His touch was always strictly platonic but your desperation had you searching for more.
Simon on the other hand had to warm up to touching you but once he started he never stopped. You’d noticed he’d always find an excuse to get his hands on you but it was always under the guise of being work related. He’d always been thorough in checking your gear, yanking you in every direction he chose, warm hands checking the harness straps wrapped around your thighs and behind. It had always been done with a dark chuckle as he’d teased you for how flustered the action made you. He’d be quick to steady you on the heli as a soft apology slipped from your lips at the tough take off. He’d only ever reply with a deep hum and a firm squeeze to your shoulders. He’d grab your hips to yank you out of enemy fire instead of opting to use the straps on your gear and maybe even go as far as ruffling your hair when you popped off your helmet in safe zones. The type of touching that was taking place tonight was lingering and maybe even charged, but most definitely not innocent. That’s what your mind has told you at least.
“Good girl then.” The man hummed from next to you, appeased that you’d remembered his drink order. An aching want shot through you at the statement and your body lulled as your mind painted pictures of ways you could earn his praise.
A quick flash of a hand in your hair, pulling, hard.
A thought of a low voice groaning in your ear as you straddled and rocked on top of a set of solid hips.
An image of your back pressed against a thick, solid body that rumbled and huffed with every press of their pelvis to yours.
A choked gasp from a set of pink lips as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead. No.
A choked gasp from a set of pink lips tucked behind a thick beard as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead.
You were ripped from your lust and liquor fueled thoughts as the man bumped his hips into yours to get your attention. He hummed next to you, his hands gripping the tequila shots and with a quick jerk of his head, he motioned for you to grab the bourbons.
The two of you turned away from the bar as he led the way over to where the rest of the team sat in the booth. They were already joking and laughing in their varying states of inebriation.
Just as you thought, the crowd parted for the man without any hesitation or effort from him.
When the two of you reached the table, Soap’s face had a slight flush to it, almost giving him a doll-like appearance that fit well with his costume. A light sheen of sweat began coating Gaz’s skin as it appeared he was fighting a battle between the liquor filled heat and the actual heat from the pelt that covered him. The other Ghostface, Ghostface #2, had his arms folded over his chest as he softly shook his head at a slightly slurred, heavily accented comment that fell from Soap.
Gaz’s attention landed on the pair of you walking over, “Ah yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” he clapped as you and Ghostface #1 placed the drinks down.
“A sight for sore eyes, you two are.” Soap chirped, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
You passed one glass of bourbon over to Ghostface #2 with a floaty smile and then tapped your hip against Ghostface #1’s while you moved his drink to his hands. You, Soap, and Gaz all moved to grab your shots with dopey, inebriated smiles on your faces.
“Here's to those who wish us well, and those who don't can go to hell!”” You said as you raised your glass to the sky, smiling as your team cheered in agreement, clinked their drinks down on the table and threw the shots back with rough jerks of their heads.
The Ghostfaces just barely tilted their masks up their faces and a small huff fell from your lips as your eyes strained in the dim light as you attemopted to see who was who. The light and the liquor tag teamed your struggle as you failed to see which one of them had a beard. As you lowered the shot glass to the table, shaking your body to fight the burn of liquor going down your throat, the song playing over the speakers shifted to a bouncy, higher tempo with a heavy bassline that had your hips moving with a mind of their own. A cheesy smile spread across your painted lips and a satisfied sigh fell from your lips as you patted Ghostface #1 Ghostface #2 on the shoulder with a nod of your head.
“If you guys need me, I’ll be dancing in there. Somewhere.” You motioned to the dance floor with a thumbs up and turned on your heels while swaying your hips to the beat.
You swayed and rocked to the beat while you shuffled your way through the crowd until you were almost at the center. Your gaze was just a bit hazy as you took in your surroundings.
The crowd was a mass of shapes and colors. And animals too? It was Halloween so you shouldn’t have been surprised to see an inflatable T-Rex’s head bouncing and shifting through the sea of people.
You shook your head and chuckled to yourself and you closed your eyes, letting the fuzziness of being tipsy take over you as you started to feel the bass that was flooding through the speakers. Your body had already started moving as you bopped to the rhythm.
The center of the crowd was hot and packed but the people around you gave you enough space to dance alone without smacking someone with your wings. The music had you entranced on the floor. Hair was swishing, wings bouncing, and your shirt flowed with your movement as you swayed.
You felt like you had not one care in the world. With the nature of your job, being in a crowd like this would have normally made you uncomfortable. You’d become used to being hypervigilant, overcritical, and overthinking, but something tonight told you to let yourself unwind. With some liquid courage, you let yourself kick back, hoping to enjoy yourself. Very rarely do you let yourself get this drunk, but it’s one of your favorite holidays and you’ve been working so hard these past few months.
Price smokes his cigars and sips his bourbon every chance he gets, Johnny and Gaz get blackout in the rec room watching rom-coms biweekly, and Simon… already has way too many unhealthy coping mechanisms to count so you are more than welcome to get drunk and dance around every once in a while. Plus if shit hit the fan, the guys would get you out of there in no time. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you told them that tonight you were turning your mind off, and they listened.
You swayed and rocked to the beat, feeling light as a feather in the center of the crowd, like you were locked in your own little world before you felt a solid, warm presence at your back.
The liquor was already taking control so instead of looking behind you to see who had pushed themselves onto you, you leaned into the warmth. You’d missed the feel of a warm body behind you, so you rocked your hips to the rhythm.
Hopefully the man wasn’t planning on just standing behind you, stiff as a board. You reached behind you and placed your hands on his hips, hoping to get him to move in time with you and the beat. The figure behind you slowly began to rock to the beat of the music, tensely, like he hadn’t danced in a while, but on beat enough for you to rock with him.
A gloved pair of hands found their way onto your sides and you hummed at the touch. They slowly slid up and down your flanks until they finally parked themselves on your hips, giving the meat that rested there the slightest squeeze. The action pushed a soft sigh from your lips even though you should have been disgusted by the gall of the stranger.
The man’s massive hands occupied so much space on your hips that you couldn’t help but to imagine what they would feel like as they pressed you face down, into a warm, plush bed.
The drunk part of you said that you were beyond touch starved and that you needed this. So you leaned into the touch. You pressed your body flush against his and felt just how large he was, not only tall but also wide and firm, an absolute unit.
You loved it, mind already filled with all of the possibilities. Being tossed around like a rag doll, being picked up and used like a toy, being held down by his tree trunk of an arm and a tongue flitting through your folds. Your mind went haywire as you ground your hips against the stranger. Your body flushed with warmth as you felt your core heat up.
You could feel that you were rubbing against something thick. It wasn’t hard but it was definitely solid and surly heavy. Your ass was pressed against the man’s pelvis so there was no doubting what was pressing against you.
A soft moan slipped from your lips at the feel of him behind you. Just the feeling of the bulge that sat between his legs, had your mouth watering, suddenly feeling very empty.
The music’s tempo had lowered to a much more intimate almost sensual pace. The two of you swayed in time with the rhythm and you felt his member twitch against you. The confirmation that you weren’t the only one being impacted by the heavy petting left you feeling devious.
You bit your lip and pressed your hips further back into his so you could feel just how much of an effect you were having on him. You just barely heard a muffled groan as he tightened his grip on your hips and lightly rolled his own up into your plush ass. A pleased hum fell from your lips as you slowly wrapped your fingers in his gloved ones for support. You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to so you bent forward at the waist.
“Fuuuuuck.” Muffled and long fell from his lips as he just tilted his head back. You shifted your ass against his bulge and shook your hips so that your ass shook against his front.
“Bloody hell, love.”
You felt the bulk of your ass moving against his hardening cock and your mind loved that you could feel your impact on him. You could feel his cock twitching and swelling against you and you absolutely loved it. You just barely dropped your hips so that your ass could press up from the bottom of his clothed length before you swiveled them back up so that you were standing up straight again.
A bratty side of you that had been lulling just beneath the surface was begging to take over.
You wanted to play with him.
You had to play with him.
You know how good you looked bent over and you loved that you were putting on a show for him. You also knew that you wanted to feel just how big he was all over.
There was some sick part of you that hoped that the man behind you was either one of your commanding officers.
Price and his thick, solid, almost bear-like body.
A man like that was built for endurance.
Built to sustain.
Built to lead, to provide.
You’d imagined being bent over his desk with the soft but strong press of his stomach against your back as he fucked you into the oak that sat in the center of his office.
You’d spent nights with your fingers rubbing your clit imagining that it was Price’s tongue slipping through your folds as his beard scratched the delicate skin between your thighs. You'd thought about straddling those thick hips and thighs while taking him deep inside of you as he leaned back and lazily smoked a stubby cigar with a dazed look on his face.
You'd wondered if he was the kind of man to shotgun the warm smoke from his cigars into your mouth as he planted you firmly onto his cock.
You’d wonder what his already gruff voice would sound like as he huffed into your ear while his hips pistoned up into you. Would he be stern and mean? Would he tell you how good you were for him? Would he make you beg for it? Would he spit on it if you asked him to?
The thought of your Captain and all the things you wanted him to do to you had your body rocking back even harder into the stranger as his hand made its way along your front, gently cupping your breast.
Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The both of you were being bold tonight and you definitely didn’t have any complaints about it. Your mind was already cloudy with absolutely sinful thoughts and you knew it would never happen so why not indulge some of those feelings? Why not let someone touch you the way you’ve been so desperately craving for months?
You brought your hand up to meet the strangers and placed yours on top of his. Even with your eyes closed you could feel the absolute mass that this man had to him. You gave his hand a squeeze, leading him to tightly grope your breast through your shirt.
Your lip pulled itself between your teeth again and a hum slipped from your mouth. He just barely slipped a finger over your covered, peaked nipple and you felt your core flood.
His other hand made its way up your chest until it rested on your neck. The action had you pressing your hips even further into him, trapping his growing cock between your bodies.
Would it be bad if you asked him to squeeze?
You wanted him to make everything even fuzzier. You wouldn’t need another shot if he just squeezed down on your neck. You wanted to beg him to squeeze, so badly. You wanted him to pull you closer and whisper in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. You could feel how bad he wanted you, it wouldn’t be hard to make something happen. You wanted to hear his breath in your ear as he told you how hard he was gonna fuck you.
He was just so BIG. Absolutely solid and clearly strong.
Could it be Simon?
Simon the absolute tank of a man.
Simon, your big boy with the skull face.
Your big bad lieutenant.
Oh you hoped it was him or John, touching you like this.
Everything about him was large, his hands, his thighs, his waist. Surely his cock was too. It had to be, especially with the way he walked around. That walk could only belong to a man that was absolutely hung.
You had dreams about pressing your face into the fat bulge that sat between his thighs.
Hoped that you could get a decent view of it as he readjusted his hips in meetings.
Some part of you almost wanted to beg him to let you kiss it, anywhere, anytime, any place. If he wanted it in a meeting, in front of the whole team you’d do it there and then some.
You’d thought about him holding your head down on his fat cock. Choking and sputtering around his girth. Would he leave you struggling to catch your breath? Would he laugh as you sputtered and struggled around his length?
You’d thought about what it would be like to sit on his pretty pink lips that he loves to keep covered up.
You’d even thought about the way that the man would smell as he fucked you.
Not wanting to ruin the fantasy, you kept your eyes closed, and slowly turned yourself around in the man’s grasp.
You pressed your front to his, as you slid your arms up to rest behind his neck. His large hands shifted themselves to the plush fat of your ass. You rolled your body into his with the mellow beat that poured from the speakers and felt your breath catch in your throat as his hands gripped the fat of your bottom, and he pulled the two globes up and apart.
You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your lips. Feeling electrified by his movements, you pulled a hand from the back of his neck and trailed it down his front. Eyes still closed, breath coming out in shudders, you pushed your hand in between the two of you and rested your palm along the man’s thick, very hard member.
“Fucken’-” You could hear a strained huff leave his mouth at the contact. Emboldened by the shots you took earlier, you closed your hand around the man’s thick length and gave it a firm squeeze as you let out a soft purr next to his ear.
“So big.” You hummed next to his ear as you felt his hips pulse into your grip. You just barely ran the top of your thumb along the man’s covered tip before you felt another presence at your back.
“Ouuuu handsy as ever, Bonnie.” You whipped your head around and locked eyes with the smirking blue eyed Scotsman, whose face was even redder from the shots and the heat of the club.
“Johnny. My god.” You sighed and turned your body toward him completely. “You almost scared me half to death.”
“Should be scared of that big beastie you’re about to fuck on the dance floor.” He laughed as he threw his arm around your shoulder.
You turned your head to glance behind you, hoping to see exactly what the man you were dancing with looked like, but were quickly let down when you were met with a blank space behind you. You were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t actually taken the chance to open your eyes with the mystery man, but part of you loved the thrill of not knowing.
Gaz popped up next to you without his massive coat on and wrapped his arms around the two of you, most definitely about to start professing his love for the two of you. His weight surprised you and you stumbled in your heels against Johnny.
“So bloody happy-”, hiccup, “that you guys are my teammates.” Gaz’s head pops up and he points over to the table that you all were at previously, which has an almost clear line of sight to where you were standing in the crowd. He finishes his thought while pointing, “Them big fuckers too”.
Your vision, cloudy as ever, lands on a pair of Ghostfaces. One leaning back in the booth with his legs spread wide, arm thrown over the back of the cushion, mask fixed on your group, and the other, sitting at the edge of the seat with his arms propped on his knees, hands clasped together and a predatory glare that makes itself known even through the blackened eyes. The sight was probably a bit frightening to the other club goers but in your state, you were moments away from bursting out into a fit of giggles.
You leaned on Soap and almost burst out laughing at how red he was before you looked back over to the booth. You couldn’t help but to wave at the pair of slashers that occupied the booth. The two of them shared a weighted look, before they slowly rose from the cushions and made their way toward the rest of the team. You knew that their dark eyes were locked onto you.
cw: sexual content, reader fucks herself on stream
camgirl!reader and all the men who follow you......
6eyez4you who is your highest paying subscriber. any time you hop on, whether that's just to talk to your chat or to sink onto an 12 inch dildo, he's there paying you enough to cover rent for the next 12 months. he always sends a flirty message, something like "hope this gets you 10x wetter ;)" or "send me the used panties you buy with this, cutie." it never fails to make you jaw drop when you see how much he spends on you, and his favorite part is when you thank him with your voice all high and whiny.
suguwatches is always pushing you to your limits. just when you feel you've orgasmed too many times, he's there to encourage you. "just one more baby, for all of us." and of course, you listen. ever so supportive, even though you don't know who he is, you find comfort in reading his sweet messages. no matter what request he sends, you always are willing to do it. that "great job sweetheart" feels that much better every time.
then you have your_hitman33 who never fails to make you blush. every time he logs on, he leaves the dirtiest comments, saying thiings like "of course the slut likes the biggest toy" and "id fuck you so hard baby." never afraid to say what's on his mind, his demeaning words make you feel that much more turned on. you still remember that one time you did a self-bondage stream, and he said "im gonna find you and fuck the shit out of you." even though you knew he wouldn't come, you've been chasing that rush of fear ever since.
horny_salaryman has to be the one you want to marry the most, though. he tunes in and pays you a hefty $300 every time, always commenting on your beauty. "You look like an angel today." when you were too tired to do your makeup, "I love your smile, beautiful." when you've just woken up. while the others get your pussy wetter, he always seems to make your face warm and your belly get butterflies, kind praise when others complain about your appearance.
but the one you seem to think about the most is ryossecret_. he only joins every now and again, and has only left a few comments. whenever you see his name show up in chat a feeling of insecurity rushes over you, like you need to perform more, entertain him. he only left one comment and that was "You look good for breeding.", but aside from that he just watches. that is, until he dms you asking if you want to collab.............
｡✧mean!nerdjo punishing his even meaner girlfriend! ✧｡
Summary: You've been secretly dating geeky Satoru Gojo for three months now, playing up your mean-girl act towards him just to keep your peers unassuming. This was simply unacceptable, and you'll have to make it up to your boyfriend in the best way you could
Satoru Gojo’s grip tightened in your hair, yanking your head forward as he drove his hips up, forcing his cock deep into your throat. You gagged hard, the thick shaft stretching your glossy lips wide. Saliva dripping down your chin while his heavy balls slapped against your skin with each rough thrust. It wasn't some gentle blowjob you were giving him.
No, Satoru was fucking your face like he owned it. All that anger from earlier boiling over into vulgar domination. Tears blurred your vision, but you still took his length perfectly. and sucking as best you could around the invasion.
“Say y're sorry,” he growled, voice thick as he began pulling back just enough for you to breathe before slamming in again. “Apologize properly! Fucking your throat while you apologize to me? Y’have zero decorum!”
The words came out garbled, your mouth full. “Mmph..I'm... sorry. T-Toru, please...” He just laughed instead of any sense of sympathy you were expecting. Thrusting faster as his free hand clamped down on your shoulder to keep you steady on your knees.
The dorm room reeked of his body spray mixed with precum. Posters of old mecha-animes peeling at the edges on the walls and empty Monster cans cluttering his desk. His laptop hummed softly in the corner. Probably still open to some physics sim or Digimon wiki. But none of that mattered right now. This was the real Satoru. The one hidden behind the awkward nerd facade everyone at college knew.
You'd been seeing him like this for a good three months now. Sneaking around as his secret girlfriend while being the stereotypical popular girl someone like him would probably never stand. He was all stutters and geek talk out there, rambling about quantum mechanics or why Magnamon was the best digivolved partner. While you were giggling with your friends. Manicured nails raised to cover your lips as you gossiped with them. Someone just had to humble a vapid girl like you!
That’s why behind closed doors he turned out to be a total sadistic psycho! To be fair, you weren’t stopping this. You pushed his buttons on purpose, acting like a total bitch whenever your clique was around. You couldn’t help but encourage his superiority complex. Nothing turned you on more than when he “put you in your place”
It started that morning in the lecture hall. A kind of place where the seats creaked and the air felt stuffy from too many bodies packed in. You were lounging with your usual crew, those girls who trailed after you, giggling at your comments about the latest gossip magazines. Your skirt riding up your thighs as you perched on a desk, you spotted Satoru shuffling in, his white hair tousled, glasses slipping down his nose, backpack slung low like he carried the weight of the world.
In front of the class, he was pathetic, really. The guy who'd blush if you even looked at him too long, only speaking up to correct the prof on some equation or geek out over digital worlds. Your friends rolled their eyes whenever he opened his mouth. But you knew the truth. The hookups in your car after late-night study sessions, the way he'd pin you down and make you beg.
Today, you went too far. As he walked past your group, head down avoiding eye contact, you extended your leg just right. His foot caught, and down he went, sprawling across the floor with a thud. Papers scattered, his glasses clattered off, and the room erupted in snickers. Your friends lost it, howling as “Oops! Clumsy much, weirdo?”
He flushed crimson, scrambling to gather his things, muttering about friction coefficients like it was no big deal. But when his eyes met yours, hidden behind the recovering lenses, you saw the storm brewing. Blue and icy, promising payback.
You wished he understood you just had to do this! Your excuses about needing his brain for homework hadn't been cutting it this time. Tripping him in front of everyone? Unfortunately tripping him was straight-up disrespect, and he wasn't letting it slide. His text buzzed your phone right after class.
Toru-baby: My room. Five minutes. Or I'll drag you there myself in front of all your friends.
You'd barely knocked before he hauled you inside, door slamming shut. No hello, no bullshit. Straight to the wall, his body pressing you hard against it, mouth crashing on yours in a bruising kiss. 'You think you can embarrass me like that?' he'd hissed, hands already shoving your skirt up.
“F-fake bitches laughing while you trip your own boyfriend? Y-yeah…you're gonna pay right now!”
He'd forced you to your knees then, unzipping his pants with trembling fingers fueled by rage. His cock springing free, hard and leaking. No warm-up, no teasing. Just his hand fisting your hair and guiding you down, making you take him inch by inch until your nose pressed against his pelvis.
That was how you ended up where you were now. Girthy cock in your mouth, throat contracting as you took him even deeper. Satoru’s pace quickened, grunts filling the air as he chased his release. “Swallow it all, baby! That's how you make it right f’me…”
You simply nodded while working around him. The burn mixing with a twisted ache between your legs. He tensed, a low curse escaping, and then he was cumming. Thick ropes pulsing down your throat. You swallowed greedily, not spilling a drop, even as he held you flush against him, grinding out the last of it.
Finally, he eased back, cock slipping free with a wet pop, a trail of spit connecting you for a beat before he smeared it across your lips with his tip. “There, I guess you’re forgiven... But don't test me again.” His voice softened a fraction, thumb brushing your cheek almost tenderly. However the glint in his eyes said he was far from done.
You rocked back on your heels, throat raw, wiping your mouth as you looked up at him. The carpet bit into your knees, and your panties were soaked, clit throbbing from neglect. “T-Toru...” It came out whiny, needy, and he smirked, knowing exactly what you wanted.
“C’mon now, pretty girl. Up on the bed.” He hauled you to your feet, shoving you toward the mattress piled with wrinkled clothes and a forgotten controller. You landed on your back, skirt bunched around your waist, and he was on you in seconds, stripping off his shirt to reveal the toned chest he kept hidden under his hoodies.
He pinned your hands above your head with one large palm, the other yanking your top open, buttons scattering. His mouth latched onto your breast, teeth grazing the nipple hard enough to make you arch and gasp. “Y’love this, don't ya? Acting like a bitch out there just to get fucked like one.” He bit down, soothing with his tongue after, then switched sides, leaving dark marks that'd bloom into bruises.
His hand trailed lower, fingers hooking into your panties and tearing them off with a rip. Cool air hit your wetness, and you squirmed, but he slapped your inner thigh, the sting sharp. “Stay still. Or you’re not getting shit!”
You bit your lip, nodding, and he rewarded you by sliding two fingers inside, thick and curling right against that spot. You moaned, hips bucking, but he pinned you firmer, pumping slow at first, then faster, thumb flicking your clit. “So fucking wet from sucking me off. Pathetic.”
The build was intense, your walls clenching around his digits, but he pulled out right as you teetered on the edge, making you whine in frustration. “Please, I-I’m gonna-“ He chuckled, dark and satisfied, positioning himself between your legs. "Y-you're not gonna cum, ah- fuck unless it's on my dick you got that?!"
You nodded as his cock, still slick from your mouth, nudged your entrance before he thrust in deep, filling you completely. You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He didn't hold back, hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm, the bed creaking under the force.
One hand stayed on your wrists, the other wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse race, vision spotting. “Mine,” he grunted, pounding harder, skin slapping skin. “No more humiliating me in public. Do that shit again and I'll bend you over in the bathroom. Let your friends hear from the stall how depraved you are!”
The threat only pushed you higher, your body tightening, orgasm crashing over you in waves. You came with a scream, nails digging into his back where you could reach, and he followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you.
He collapsed beside you, both panting, his arm draping over your waist possessively. For a minute, the room was quiet, just your breathing syncing up. Then he murmured, “Heard the new Digimon trailer dropped. We should watch it later.” Like nothing happened.
You laughed softly, turning into him, the contrast in your dynamic hitting you every time. “Like I’d be seen watching that kiddy-shit Toru.”
Omg don’t come at me for the cringe ahh dialogue and it literally is js bad porno
tysm @6x-x9 for the proofreaading!!
anyways I js like the idea of fratjo being the sub and nerdjo being the dom yk, js switch it up a bit. and yeah i said this would be out days ago but what r U gonna do abt it?? NOTHING
★ . . situationship!toji making you cūm mid-argument.
the tv flickers with some random action movie neither of you are really paying attention to.
you’re tucked against your eight months situation ship (?) side on the couch, legs spread lazily over his thigh, his big hand shoved down the front of your loose shorts. two thick fingers are lazily circling your clit, slow and almost absent-minded, like he’s just playing with you out of boredom while he watches the screen.
you’re trying to stay focused on the argument you started five minutes ago.
“i’m serious, toji,” you snap, voice a little breathy despite yourself. “you can’t just disappear for days and then show up like nothing happened. i’m not your fucking doormat—”
“mm,” he hums, not even looking at you. his fingers keep rubbing lazy little circles over your swollen clit, slick sounds barely audible under the movie. “you done yelling yet?”
you clench your jaw, heat crawling up your neck. “no, i’m not done. you always do this shit. you think you can just—”
his middle finger presses harder, dragging slow and firm right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. your breath hitches mid-sentence. toji’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk, eyes still glued to the tv like he’s barely invested in what his hand is doing between your legs.
“keep going,” he says calmly. “i’m listening.”
you try. you realllly do. but his touch is getting more deliberate now, fingers sliding down to spread your wetness before coming back up to rub tight, slick circles on your clit. your thighs twitch, one foot pressing into the couch cushion.
“you’re such an asshole,” you hiss, but your voice is losing its edge. “you disappear, you don’t text, you don’t—fuck—”
toji’s finger speeds up just a fraction, still lazy but consistent, perfect pressure that makes your hips start to roll into his hand without your permission. he finally glances over at you, eyes dark and amused.
“what was that?” he asks, voice low and smug. “i didn’t catch the last part, sweetheart.”
you grab his wrist, but you don’t pull him away. your breathing is getting faster, chest rising and falling as the pleasure builds against your will. “i said… you’re a selfish prick, toji—”
he chuckles, low and rough, and suddenly his fingers move faster, rubbing your clit with firm, relentless strokes. your shorts are soaked, the fabric sticking to you as his thick fingers work you open. your argument is crumbling, words turning into soft, broken gasps.
“yeah?” he murmurs, finally turning his full attention to you. “keep telling me how much you hate me while you’re dripping all over my hand.”
your head falls back against the couch, hips grinding desperately into his palm. the tv noise fades into background static. all you can focus on is the tight, aching heat building fast between your legs.
“toji— fuck, i’m— i’m still mad at you—”
“i know,” he says, almost sweetly, but his fingers don’t stop. he rubs your clit faster, harder, using the slick mess you’re making to glide perfectly over that sensitive spot. “cum anyway.”
it hits you mid-breath.
your back arches off the couch as the orgasm crashes through you, sudden and brutal. your thighs clamp around his hand, hips jerking, a broken moan ripping from your throat while he keeps rubbing you through it. toji watches your face the entire time, eyes half-lidded, that lazy smirk finally breaking across his mouth as you shake and whimper.
he doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, oversensitive and gasping, weakly pushing at his wrist. only then does he pull his hand out of your shorts, fingers shiny and dripping with you. he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, slow and deliberate, while you try to catch your breath.
“you were saying?” he asks, voice thick with amusement.
you glare at him, still panting, thighs trembling.
“i still hate you,” you mutter weakly.
toji chuckles and leans in, pressing a rough kiss to your neck.
cw: fem!reader, soft dom!ghost, daddy kink, blend of fluff & smut, implied inexperienced!reader i geniunely think that's it? surprisingly? if i missed something lmk, word count: 1.3K
His mouth on yours and his hands roaming your body, touching your bare skin, feels electric. You’ve wanted Simon for so long– too long.
He pulls away, his lips are swollen, and he’s looking down at you with soft eyes. “Need to tell you somethin’ lovie.”
You sit up, shifting slightly when you see the nervousness written all over his face. “What’s wrong, Si?”
“It’s… not exactly average, down there.” His face is flushed as he’s looking anywhere but you.
Your hand reaches up to gently caress his face, thumb brushing over the scar on his cheek. “Si, baby, that’s okay. Size doesn’t matter.” He laughs, and you tilt your head, pout on your face. “I’m trying to comfort you, asshole!”
He softly smiles down at you, hands rubbing up and down your sides. “Sorry, lovie, that’s jus’ not what I meant. I’m… big.”
“Oh yeah?” You give him a wolfish grin as you squeeze his bicep.
He shakes his head at your antics. “No, lovie, I mean big. Too big. Probably can’t fuck you proper tonight. We’ll ‘ave to prep and stretch you for me slowly.”
You look at him wide-eyed, lips parted. “Wait. So, how big is it then?”
“Could show you if you promise t’ behave.”
You’re lying down, propped on your elbows, watching as he lines up right where your entrance is. He doesn’t press against it or push into you– instead, he lifts and rests his heavy cock on top of your cunt. The tip of it, red and leaking, sits just under your belly button.
“Holy shit, Simon, that’s like, nine inches?”
The tips of his ears burn red, and he buries his head in your neck. “Stop it, lovie, ‘s embarrassin’, hate that I can’t fuck you proper,” he whines, his lips tickling your skin.
You rub your hand down his spine and feel his cock twitch against you. “Can’t fuck me yet, just gotta get me used to taking it right?”
Your eyes glance over to your bedside drawer, and his own follow. He reaches over you to open it, and all your brain can focus on is his thick bicep in front of your face.
“Dove, ‘ave you actually used this?” He looks at you holding the largest dildo you own. It’s bigger than your usual ones, about 7.5 inches. While it’s not as long– or nearly as thick– as Simon is, it'll be perfect to help open you up.
You cover your face with your hands and can hear slick noises as he covers the toy in lube. “Not yet, but now’s the perfect time, right?” you shyly ask.
He chuckles at you and pushes your arms back down to your sides. He teasingly rubs the silicone tip up and down your slick folds before just barely pressing it against your interest.
His large hand grabs your hips, forcing you to stay still. “Si,” you whine.
He grabs your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around the base of the silicone cock. “You wanted my cock so bad, lovie, y’gotta prep yourself. Need you to prove t’me you can take it.”
You swallow eyes trailing down to where his own hand is fisting himself right above your body– a needy moan falling from your lips at the sight.
You slowly reach down, rubbing the toy back and forth against your dripping cunt. You bite your lip as you slowly push the dildo inside you, stopping with a heavy breath just as the tip makes it inside you.
“What's wrong? Is my little dove nervous, needs ‘er Daddy's help?” He coos at you, his hand still jerking up and down his cock.
You shiver, nodding at him with a quiet whimper. “Supposed to do it yourself, you’re a big girl, dove,” he scolds you, glancing down at your teary eyes. He frowns, thumb brushing your cheek. “Think the lads are right, spoil you too much.”
His hand grabs you by the back of your neck, lifting your head to meet him in a soft kiss. You’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, you don’t even notice he’s shifted himself until his knee is pressed against the flared base.
He presses his lips harder against yours, swallowing your tiny noises. One hand grips your hip as he slowly pushes the silicone cock into you. It’s only a few more inches, but it’s thick enough for you to start feeling a stretch.
He pulls away from you with swollen lips. “You okay, lovie?”
“Mhm, it feels good, just not used to it. Y’can keep going.”
He continues to sink the toy into your cunt inch by inch until the flared base and his knee are flushed against it. Your hands grip his shoulder, a pleased groan leaving his lips when your nails dig deep into the skin.
You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some kind of friction– only slightly wincing at the stinging feeling of being stretched.
Simon shakes his head at you, letting your head softly fall back against the pillows. “Not gonna fuck you with it– gotta wait for that. This is about makin’ sure you’re comfortable.”
Tears fill your eyes, and a choked sob threatens to crawl out of your throat. “But I wanna cum, please daddy, need to!” you shout despite not meaning to.
“My poor little dove, did y’ think I wasn’t gonna let you feel good?” he coos at you. His hand slowly trails down your body until his thumb hovers over your puffy clit. You whine, hips jerking up instinctively.
Your eyes screw shut, your mouth falling open in a silent plea as he starts to trace shapes against your bud. You can hear the sound of him stroking himself again, and you feel yourself clench around the fake cock inside you.
“Is this what she needed, lovie? She just needed ‘er daddy to touch ‘er?” he glances down, watching you clench around the toy as he talks about your cunt.
You pant, soft cries leaving your mouth every time you feel the rough pad of his thumb press down harder against you. “Mmm, yes, needed– shit– needed daddy to make her feel good.”
You finally open your eyes, mesmerized as the hand around his cock speeds up. “Fuck, dove, not gonna last,” he mumbles before leaning down to suck at your chest.
It’s too much, everywhere. His hand on your clit, tongue circling your nipple, the feeling of being stretched like you’ve never been– and god, the wet sound of him jerking himself off.
“Daddy, ‘m cumming, gonna, gonna-” You can’t finish your sentence, cutting yourself off with a sob as the knot in your stomach finally loosens. Your cum drips down the toy and onto the bedsheets, and the sight is all he needs to do the same.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he groans, giving his cock one final tug before he’s spilling all over your stomach. The white splashes against your skin– sticky and hot.
You both stop for a moment, heavy panting filling the room, before Simon crawls off of you. You lie back, eyes fluttering shut as your body aches.
He comes back with a wet rag and an old shirt of his that's soft and well-worn. You tense as he gently pulls the dildo out of you, tearing up a little at the sudden and overwhelming feeling of emptiness. “I know, ‘m sorry, you did so perfect for me. ‘M so proud of you, took it so well, lovie, ' he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hip before softly wiping you down.
He throws on his boxers and crawls into bed next to you, pulling the t-shirt over your body. “Does that mean next time you’ll move it?”
He snorts, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms tight around you. “If you’re not too sore in the mornin’, maybe.”
choso just needs a little help ୨୧ choso kamo x fem!reader ୨୧ i need him to mark me
you wake up to slobbery tits and a whimpering boy beside you. choso rubs his bulge against your hips while he whines against your nipple. he doesn't realize you're awake till you tangle your fingers in his hair.
he pulls off of you quickly, looking down in shame.
"it's okay, cho." you comfort him, pulling his face back down onto your nipple. "keep going."
his laps latch onto your nipple quickly, sucking and licking while rubbing his bulge harder on your hips. whines escape his throat as he uses you to fix his little problem.
he releases your nipple from his mouth and gives a harsh suck on the side of your boob. you let out a whimper, smiling at the whiny boy.
he starts to mark every part of your chest till you're covered in purple marks.
his bulge ruts sloppily against your hips. you reach down, pushing past his waistband and grabbing his cock. it's hot and hard. your thumb meets the tip, wet with precum.
choso whines. throwing his head into your neck and whining some more. "please—h-help."
you smile, teasing his leaking tip with your thumb. he twitches, whimpering about how good you feel.
"wanna be inside." he mumbles. you shake your head. "not yet, cho."
he whines and you swipe your thumb on his tip with a bit of pressure. he immediately lets out a pathetic moan, curling into your side and using your hand to get off.
he cums quickly, sighing and whimpering in your ear. you keep your hand around his heavy cock, waiting for him to come down his high so you can do it again.
this sucks but sue me
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