trailer park. dubcon/noncon. creepy socially inept simon. kitchen sex. predatory behavior. tattoo sleeves simon is canon. thumb sucking. breeding kink-ish. pulling the panties to the side is hotter than taking it off. all characters are 18+. DDNE.
(REUPLOAD FROM LACKADAISIES, THIS IS MY FIC! I'M NOT A THIEF!)
You're pretty sure the dad you babysit for is a creep. Alternatively, he hates your guts, wearing a perpetual, nasty scowl as his eyes drop to your skirt's hem, replying only in wordless grunts. Of course, you're a self-respecting girl. You don't stand for any disrespect. You stick your nose up a little and keep away from him unless absolutely necessary, because the pay is good and Simon can't fire you because you're good at your job. At least, that's why you think Mr Riley hasn't fired you yet.
He owns a caravan on the edge of town, totally off-the-grid. Military guy sensibilities. Simon does what he does to keep his daughter safe, and you don't ask questions. It's a nice enough unit and bigger than the whole world when you're a 3ft tall three-year-old.
Your friends urge you to find another job the more they hear about this burly brute with tattoo sleeves you work for in the middle of nowhere, but at the end of another moping phone call, you find a 40% bonus tucked into the envelope with your pay and your fate is sealed.
The thought of him overhearing your qualms—and worse, compensating you for it—makes you feel bad, so you start to work extra hard. Leaving a plate for him from the meals you make for Beth, accompanied by sticky notes; seeing him out the door, etc... all in hopes you'll get tipped. Okay, maybe a conscience isn't the only reason for your good behavior—the financial incentives are great too. The tips keep coming, and your doe eyes only get sweeter. To you, it's good customer service, no flirtations involved. You're a professional, after all.
Simon, famously, is bad with social cues and sees more than there is in your hard work. Doesn't register that the extra sweet 'Good morning, Mr Riley,' and happy-faces drawn in honey on his pancakes only come with payments, not for his mean mug. It starts with casual touches: a hand on your shoulder while you chop Beth's veggies into bite-sized pieces, on your waist in passing. I mean, you're practically a hired wife at this point, so what's the trouble, right? You'd be the perfect mother for Beth.
“Beth's been calling you her Mummy,” he says it one day, all casual-like, hands busy with unlacing his boots. The lights are off save for a small lamp in the kitchen while you pack your laptop and charger into a slouchy shoulder-bag, the air humming with Beth's absence. You fuss with the zipper, the mechanism staggering. Simon pretends not to notice.
“I keep telling her not to--” A breathy laugh slips past your lips—a nervous sounding thing. Your face burns up against all reason and you can't place your finger on what it is about that remark that makes you feel defensive. Surely you wouldn't think twice if somebody else said it, but a strange implication seeps in through the cracks of his noncommittal demeanor. There's always something just slightly off, slightly off-kilter when it comes to him. This is wrong, you think, before anything has happened.
“Nowt to worry about.” He shakes his head dismissively and you fancy that he's almost good at pretending to be a normal person. A real person as opposed to a ghost. The leathery couch squeaks under him as he hauls his weight off, unfolding to his full height.
The zipper finally gives when Simon stops in front of you. Your lips part to say something—announce your departure, maybe—before his long fingers tilt your chin up slightly. “You'd be a great mother,” Simon says, evenly, like he's measuring the words—or rather, you. It's the first solid piece of praise he's given you thus far, and it disarms you just a bit after all the stonewalling you've been subject to.
As if sensing the casual shift in the air, Simon capitalizes with an off handed question: “Ever thought about it?”
“About what? Having my own? Erm, no.” You wave your hands like the notion is ridiculous, laughing awkwardly. You're living on a babysitter's wages and busy getting your degree, a child has no part in the equation.
The way Simon eyes you says he has a different idea entirely. It feels wrong, knowing you have your whole life ahead of you, but he can vividly picture you barefoot and pregnant under that same sundress.
“I love working with kids, but I don't think I'll have a baby any time soon,” you ramble, sounding distracted as you back up against the counter. You know it's unreasonable, but a part of you would rather people-please than be downright rude, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch his hands warily.
You ignore the red alerts, telling yourself maybe—just maybe—you're wrong, and Simon is simply a well-meaning, harmless dad. But that's how you ended up here in the first place; you never let yourself truly read into the way he looked at you, never let it dissuade you from working hard, until now. You even stopped complaining to your friends weeks ago.
“Huh.” Simon nods in consideration, pretending to think for a moment. Your feet remain rooted to the spot as Simon's hands find the hem of your dress, teasing it upwards slightly.
“Stop-” Your hand shoots to his wrist as the air hits your thighs, neither pulling nor pushing. Your soft fingers look insignificant next to his arm, pearly manicure to tattoo ink.
“Calm yer tits.” A wry laugh stirs the top of your hair, his shoulders crowding you against the countertop. “Beth's fast asleep.”
You can think up a few other reasons why this is bad business, though you have a feeling they won't hold up well.
Your hand goes slack against his as he reaches up your dress, a shiver rippling up your spine. “We shouldn't-” You stumble against his chest as Simon languidly cups your ass, the heady scent soaked into his shirt flooding your senses until it blurs with the shameful pounding of your heart. “I don't...” Want this.
“You're a little bird, ain't ya?” You meet his heavy-lidded gaze with bated breath as his fingers hook under your chin again, his thumb creeping to the edge of your mouth. The absence of warmth when his hand slips from beneath your dress leaves you almost wondering, before he cups your tits through the flimsy fabric in spite of your shock. “Spook easy.”
“Can feel your heart goin' like mad, y'know?”
For the first time, he speaks more than he listens. Grabs more than he hears your stubborn whines, his fingers stuffing your mouth, before his hands soon find other work. Insistent and cajoling. His meaty palms roam wherever they land—thumbs dragging over the hardened peaks of your nipples through your dress, one hand sliding down to hitch your leg around his waist. The dull throb behind his fly is a demanding ache, a gnawing hunger that makes Simon feel impossibly patient after months of watching you frolic around his home without ever tasting you.
Simon lets out a guttural rasp over you as your writhing body presses against his hard-on, teasing him through rough denim. “Bloody hell.” He turns you by the waist and presses you against the countertop with a finality that draws a startled squeak from your throat. The noise dies at once. His daughter is asleep down the hall; the last thing you need is to make a scene. You swallow whatever words rise to your tongue, acutely aware of every sound in the trailer, jaw tightening as the counter edge nudges uncomfortably against your hipbones.
You blanch at the thick, hard bulge poking your backside, teething at your thumb nail skittishly. A sickening shudder rolls through you as his hips press forwards with a groan above you, lazily rocking you against the countertop.
“Don't make a sound.”
He'd been more action than words for the better part of the last couple minutes, but his voice seems enough to raise the fine hairs on your nape.
“Yessir...” The words slur together as you slip your thumb between your lips, pink-cheeked. The little bob of your head is all Simon needs before he's freeing his cock from the zipper of his jeans.
The ascent of the thin cotton fabric feels impossibly heavy as he lifts the dress up your hips and settles it around your waist. The pad of his thumb traces your slit through the gusset of your panties, moisture darkening the fabric, before he hooks his fingers through the leg holes and bares your cunt to his eyes.
He clicks his tongue to himself meaningfully and tilts his head as if sizing you up while you suckle on your thumb under him, legs dangling over the edge of the kitchen counter. A sight for sore eyes deserves appreciation, and Simon has only ever known one way to show it—one that'd leave you sore come morning.
“Not so flighty now, eh?” Heat skims the edge of your ear as he speaks in a low drawl, and you almost miss the hitch in his breath when he pushes inch-by-inch into the heat of your cunt. “Who's a good girl?”
Your brows bunch together with exertion at the tight stretch as you peek back at him, all hapless with your lips puckered around your own thumb. You hesitantly slip your thumb from your mouth to speak, the words feeling dumb and embarrassing. “I-I am,” you mumble between soft whimpers sheepishly.
“Yeah. You are.” Humiliation curdles low in your stomach at the sound of his amusement, a slick string of arousal dripping down your center. “Little bird stops complainin' soon as she feels this big dick. You love it, don't you? Just need a paci to shut you up.”
Simon's fingers knead into your flesh with an ease that feels strangely intrusive, as though they have no business being so familiar with you. His calloused palm cracks against the swell of your ass before he bottoms out, your toes curling into the cool tiles as he fills you up. The counter's edge bites into your hips as he pulls back, almost all the way out, before slamming home without any give. Your palms scrabble against the laminate, searching for purchase as he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust knocking the breath from your lungs in short, punched-out gasps.
He's effectively everywhere. One hand splays across your lower back, pinning you down, while the other finds your hair, gathering it at the nape of your neck in a secure grip, enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.
“That's it,” he rasps, the words carried over the slap of skin on skin echoing through the kitchen's shadows. “Take it.”
Your knees wobble under you, but his grip on your hip tightens like a vice, holding you up, holding you open. The wet sound of him fucking into you fills the kitchen—obscene and rhythmic, drowning out your own muffled whimpers.
He leans over you, chest hot against your back, mouth brushing your ear.
“Thought you could get away from me, little bird. Where you gonna go now?”
(authors note from old blog) — wah wah y/n in a sundress ... y/n with manicured nails ... yes IK i've seen every tumblr post making fun of the cliches but this is what you get when the author (me) likes those things!! crucify me 🙄 at least she's independent and educated!!
NOT PROOFREAD! i hatee the super rushed ending. also oops i realized i accidentally described reader as pink-cheeked in this, i usually avoid appearance descriptions but icba to edit it anymore. >_<
𑣲. SO EXITIN — ᨳଓ satoru comfort fucking you after suguru just finished punishing you.
CONTENT WARNING rough sex. angry sex. bruising. hair pulling. marking. jealousy. poly rs. comfort sex. suguru is an asshole in here.
the fight was already beginning to spiral out of control when geto’s voice cut through the chaos, firm and unmistakably commanding as he gave you an order.
“stay back.”
you hesitated for only a moment, your eyes flickering toward him before narrowing in irritation.
of all things he could have told you, that was the one phrase guaranteed to piss you off.
you weren’t some helpless civilian who needed to be kept out of harm’s way, and you certainly didn’t need someone constantly deciding when you were capable of handling yourself.
you tightened your grip, scanning the battlefield as you weighed your options.
geto’s approach was safe enough, but it was slow, and you could already see the opening he hadn’t noticed yet.
then your gaze shifted toward satoru, and suddenly, the answer seemed obvious.
his method would be cleaner, quicker, and far less likely to leave either of you exposed.
so you ignored geto.
without another word, you moved exactly as satoru would have, slipping through the opening and striking from the angle you knew would work best.
it was reckless enough to make geto’s jaw tighten, but calculated enough that you knew you could pull it off.
“seriously?” geto called after you, clearly irritated.
you didn’t even bother looking back.
if he wanted you to stay behind while everyone else did the dangerous work, he was going to have to learn that you weren’t going to listen simply because he told you to.
and, much to geto’s irritation, it worked.
the threat was dealt with cleanly, the curse was exorcised before it could cause any serious damage, and despite the way you had completely disregarded his orders, no one walked away with anything worse than a few scratches.
the mission was a success, an undeniable one at that.
you lowered your weapon, breathing steadily as the tension finally began to leave your body, while geto stood a short distance away, staring at you with an expression that was becoming increasingly difficult to read.
because that was the part that made everything worse.
if you had gotten hurt, if your decision had gone wrong, if satoru’s method had nearly gotten someone killed, geto would have had every reason to lecture you.
he could have pointed out exactly where you went wrong and told you that this was precisely why you should have listened to him.
but you hadn’t, you had been right.
and geto hated that he couldn’t even argue with the outcome.
his eyes narrowed as he looked at you, his jaw tightening slightly while you gave him an almost innocent glance.
“what?” you asked, unable to resist the small edge of smugness in your voice, geto exhaled slowly through his nose. “nothing.”
but the way he said it made it painfully obvious that it was absolutely not nothing.
but what you didn’t know was that geto had no intention of letting this go, not here, not in the middle of a successful mission where he had no real argument to make against you.
he knew better than to start another fight while the three of you were still out in the field, so instead, he simply swallowed his irritation and kept quiet, already deciding that this conversation could wait until the three of you were home.
and you would soon find out that geto was much more patient when he was angry than you ever wanted him to be.
by the time the two of you finally made it home, you had almost convinced yourself that geto had simply decided to let the whole thing go.
satoru had been held back a little longer, leaving just the two of you to walk inside together, and for a brief moment, you thought the silence meant you were in the clear.
you were wrong.
the moment the door closed behind you, geto’s entire demeanor changed.
before you could even turn around properly, he stepped forward and pressed you back against the cold wooden door, his sudden movement catching you completely off guard.
you stared up at him, stunned by the intensity in his expression. “you really thought i was going to forget about what happened out there?”
one hand braced beside your head while the other claimed your jaw, fingers firm as they tipped your face upward.
“you ignored me. you decided satoru knew better. in front of everyone. on my order.” a short sharp exhale left him. “do you have any idea what that looked like?”
his thumb dug just under your chin, pressure steady enough to make your pulse jump.
he leaned closer until his mouth hovered at your ear, body locking you in place. “we share you. that was the deal. but sharing never meant you get to publicly side against me.”
his free hand dragged your jacket off one shoulder then the other before settling at your waist and hauling you forward so your hips met the hard line of him.
“you made me look secondary. you made me feel secondary. and i do not let that slide.”
geto’s mouth found the side of your throat, not soft kisses but deliberate claims, teeth scraping then biting down hard enough to pull a sharp sound from you.
the hand in your hair tightened, yanking your head back so he could mark lower, sucking a deep bruise just above your collarbone while his other hand worked your pants open with impatient precision.
the moment fabric gave way his fingers shoved between your legs, finding you already slick, and a low humorless sound left him against your skin.
“look at that,” he murmured, two fingers slamming into you without warning, curling deep and rough. “already soaked. was it the fight that did it or the knowledge of exactly how this would end once we got home?”
he worked the fingers in hard ruthless strokes, knuckles pressing, thumb circling your clit with mean pressure just shy of enough to tip you over. “you disobeyed me. you chose him. and now you take what i give until i decide you’ve remembered whose order you ignored.”
he pulled free with a wet sound, spun you with a bruising grip on your hip, and shoved you chest first into the door hard enough that the wood rattled.
the sound of his own clothes opening cut through the quiet, a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock dragged once through your folds, coating himself, before he slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust that knocked the air from your lungs and forced a broken cry out of you.
one hand braced beside your head again, the other locked on your hip hard enough to leave marks as he set a relentless punishing pace, every snap of his hips driving you forward against the door with wet filthy sounds.
“you don’t get to go soft on me now.” he growled against the back of your neck, teeth scraping the skin there before biting down again.
“you wanted to decide whose judgment mattered out there, fine. in here you take mine. every. fucking. inch.” his rhythm stayed deep and unforgiving, hips slamming hard enough that the door creaked with each thrust, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the entryway.
he reached up, fisted your hair again and pulled your head back so your spine arched, changing the angle so he could drive even deeper, cock dragging over that spot inside you with every rough stroke.
“next time the thought of ignoring me in front of him crosses your mind i want you to remember exactly how it feels when i remind you who you belong to just as much as you belong to him.”
his free hand slid around your hip, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight mean circles timed to the brutal pace of his thrusts until your legs started to shake and your breath came in short broken gasps.
he didn’t slow. if anything he fucked into you harder, using his grip on your hair to keep you arched and open for him, the wet sound of your cunt taking him over and over filling every pause between his words.
“come on my cock while i’m still angry with you.” he ordered, voice low and absolute, fingers working your clit faster.
“show me you understand. soak me while i’m still pissed. then maybe, maybe i’ll consider forgiving the fact that you made me watch you choose him.” he slammed in especially deep on the last word, grinding against you, refusing to ease up even as your walls started to flutter around him.
and with that he hauled you up as if you weighed nothing, carrying you straight to the bedroom while your body still trembled around the memory of him.
whatever unfolded behind that closed door stretched across hours, rough, relentless, he claimed you that it left marks and exhaustion tangled together, until the only sound left was your slowed breathing against the sheets.
hours later the front door opened. satoru stepped in, hair slightly mussed, a lazy smile already on his face as he spotted geto freshly showered and stretched out on the couch watching whatever flickered across the screen.
“hey,” he called, his eyes swept the room once, twice, then narrowed when they found no trace of you. “where’s our wife?”
geto didn’t look away from the television. “asleep.”
satoru’s eyebrow arched, he crossed the space slowly, dropping onto the arm of the couch. “she usually doesn’t pass out at this hour. what did you do to her?”
geto’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “reminded her whose orders matter when it counts.” he finally glanced over. “she’s fine. worn out. leave her.”
satoru hummed, unconvinced, already pushing off the couch. “yeah, no. i’m gonna check.” he headed down the hall without waiting for permission.
as he slipped inside the room met him with darkness and a lingering chill, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he finally found you buried under the blanket, only the top of your hair visible.
a soft apologetic pout pulled at his mouth as he crossed the space and sank down beside you with careful weight so the mattress barely dipped.
“aww, poor girl..” he murmured, voice barely above a breath, he reached for the edge of the covers intending to press a gentle kiss to your temple.
but the fabric peeled back to reveal a canvas of fresh bruises and dark hickeys blooming across your throat, collarbone, and the curve of one shoulder.
his hand froze mid air, brows drawing together as a low breath left him.
“that crazy bastard.” he muttered under his breath, the marks were deeper than usual, the kind of roughness that only surfaced when geto’s temper ran hot, most nights the three of you stayed far gentler with each other.
the shift in the mattress and the quiet sound of his voice pulled you from sleep.
your eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light, and the second they focused on him a soft smile curved his mouth.
“hey, beautiful.” you didn’t hesitate, the moment recognition settled you pushed up and all but climbed into his arms.
he caught you easily, gathering you against his chest in one smooth motion, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other settled warm and steady across the bare skin of your back, careful of every fresh bruise.
“are you okay?” he asked, voice low and close to your ear as his palm stroked slow circles over the unmarked parts of your back.
you only furrowed your brows against his shoulder, voice still rough from sleep and everything that came before.
“what took you so long?” a quiet huff of amusement left him, though the concern never fully left his eyes.
he shifted just enough to lean back against the headboard, pulling you fully into his lap so your bare legs draped over his thighs and your cheek rested against the warm solid plane of his chest.
“got held up with the higher-ups,” he murmured, fingers threading gently through your hair.
“by the time i got free and made it home, suguru was already on the couch looking far too pleased with himself.”
his thumb brushed the edge of a dark bruise on your throat, feather light. “i’ll deal with him later. right now i only care about you.”
he felt it then, the warm slickness seeping through the fabric of his jeans where your bare pussy rested against his thigh.
his gaze dropped, taking in the evidence, and a slow breath left him, you followed his eyes and immediately pouted, voice barely a whisper.
“m..sorry.”
a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. he tipped your chin up with two fingers and kissed you, he drew back his forehead rested against yours.
“don’t apologize for that,” he murmured against your mouth. “he didn’t even clean you up, huh?” satoru’s voice stayed soft “just finished and left you like this?”
he glanced down at you, waiting. you shook your head slowly.
“well… he went all in and then kissed me on the forehead after.” you admitted.
a quiet hum left him, one hand slid down your spine in a slow, soothing path while the other stayed cupped at the back of your neck. “of course he did.”
the words carried no real heat, only a knowing sort of resignation. “marks you within an inch of your life, fucks you until you can’t think, then leaves a gentle little kiss like that makes it all balanced.”
he shifted beneath you, adjusting so your slick heat pressed more firmly against the growing hardness trapped in his jeans.
“but you know…i really missed you..” you breathed out, pressing soft kisses along the sharp line of his jaw.
a low chuckle vibrated against your lips, “you missed me because he punished you?”
you shook your head quickly, “n..no! i really did miss you.”
satoru’s expression softened at the insistence. he caught your face between both hands, thumbs stroking over your cheeks as he leaned in and kissed you properly.
“i know, baby. i missed you too.” one hand slid down between your bodies, palm gliding over the bare skin of your stomach before settling between your thighs, fingers tracing lazily through the slick mess geto had left behind. “let me show you how much.”
he kept you cradled in his lap, legs draped over his, and simply explored with slow deliberate touches, two fingers gliding up and down your folds, gathering the wetness, spreading it, circling your clit with the lightest pressure that made your hips twitch.
every time you tried to push into his hand he eased off just enough to keep you wanting, a soft teasing smile playing at his mouth.
“so sensitive already,” he murmured against your temple, voice warm and full of quiet praise.
“look at you, still dripping from him yet opening up so sweetly for me, my good girl. always so responsive… even after he was rough with you.”
his fingers slipped inside with no resistance, curling gently, stroking that soft spot with lazy precision while his thumb kept up the feather light circles. “feel how easily you take me? you’re doing so well already.”
he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the fading edge of a bruise on your throat, each press of his lips soft and lingering as if he could rewrite every mark with tenderness.
“i hate seeing you hurt like this,” he admitted between kisses, “but fuck if you don’t look beautiful all marked up and still so needy for more. my perfect girl… taking everything he gave you.”
slowly he shifted, laying you back against the pillows with careful hands, stripping his own shirt and jeans without ever fully leaving your space.
when he settled between your thighs he didn’t thrust in right away.
instead he rubbed the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds, coating himself, teasing your entrance with shallow presses that never quite gave you what you wanted.
every time your hips lifted he pulled back just enough, chuckling softly at the frustrated little sound you made.
“patience, beautiful,” he soothed, leaning down to kiss you deep and slow while one hand stroked your side, your breast, the curve of your waist like he was memorizing you all over again.
he nuzzled your jaw, voice dropping into that low affectionate tease. “you’re so wet for me already, my sweet girl. always so eager to be filled, aren’t you?”
when he finally sank into you it was inch by careful inch, giving you time to feel every stretch, every pulse of him.
a long low groan left his chest once he bottomed out, forehead resting against yours. “there we go… fuck, you feel perfect.” he stayed still for a moment, just breathing with you, hands roaming gently over every unmarked patch of skin he could find, praising you between soft kisses.
“my good girl. my beautiful girl… letting me take care of you.”
only then did he begin to move slow, deep rolls of his hips that never turned rough, each thrust full, angled to drag against the places that made your breath catch.
one hand stayed laced with yours against the pillow while the other slipped between you again, rubbing gentle steady circles over your clit in time with his rhythm.
“my perfect wife. let me hear you, baby. let me know how good it feels when i’m gentle with you.”
Your boyfriend Suguru is many things. He’s doting, and loving, and beyond chivalrous when it counts. He is also a perennial control freak.
You thought this would be good for him — a chance to sit back and let someone else take the wheel. Plus, Gojo has been hounding the two of you for a threesome ever since you first got together. This is as close as he’s going to get.
For now, at least.
Your thighs burn with exertion as you ride your boyfriend’s white-haired best friend reverse cowgirl on the couch of his living room. You and Suguru have spent hours here, over for dinner and drinks and game nights with Satoru — now you’re taking his cock down to the base as you face Suguru, who sits lazily in the facing armchair. It’s made of the same faux leather as the couch, which is sticking to Satoru’s sweaty ass and thighs, peeling with a loud squelch each time he bucks his hips up to meet your movements halfway.
“That’s right, now wrap your arm around and rub her clit like I showed you. Circles, not side-to-side. Yes, like that.”
You should have figured Suguru would promote himself from audience member to scene director. He sat nice and still as you throated Satoru’s cock, and even let you guide him yourself when you first took him inside of you, but he can’t stay out of the picture for long. Your Suguru is many things, and a spectator is not one of them. He likes control.
Luckily for the both of you, Gojo likes being told what to do. Each small praise upon doing something right — yes, Satoru, just like that; Satoru, you’re fucking her so well — has him twitching inside of you, choking on desperate moans as he soaks in his lauding.
A part of you wants to twist around to look at his face. You’re sure it’s all red and blotchy from exertion. You bet he looks fucked-dumb and ecstatic all at the same time. But your eyes are locked on Geto, who looks less like a cuck and more like it’s any Saturday evening. His chin is lifted, eyes surveying the two of you as wet sounds and skin slapping fills the room. He’s got his hands on his thighs, and his pants are so baggy around the crotch that you can’t tell if he’s hard or not.
“You can…” you start, taking a moment to wet your lips as Satoru speeds up his assault on your clit. “You can touch yourself, you know.”
Suguru’s lips slowly curl upwards. “I know, hon.”
“Why aren’t you?”
You want him to feel good. The whole point behind letting Satoru take you like this was to give Suguru a show, after all. Does he not like this? Is your pleasure one-sided? You suddenly feel bad for liking the fill of Gojo’s cock inside of you so much.
Geto must recognise the look on your face, because he laughs. It’s low, truly amused. “Don’t get in your head, my love. I just want to watch for now. If I cum like this, I won’t have as much to give you later when I wash out whatever Satoru’s going to fill you with.”
Oh. You and Satoru both seem to react to that — you tighten as he jolts up into you, groaning and biting into your shoulder as he breaks the ‘no marks’ rule that was established earlier. You don’t mind so much when you picture Suguru taking you later, licking and biting over whatever receipts of his touch that Satoru has left behind. Making them his own. Marking you as his own.
And then you imagine Satoru there too, sitting in a chair facing the bed, perhaps with his blindfold tucked between his teeth to muffle any whining pleads to join. You know he wouldn’t have the same restraint as your Suguru, he’d be fucking his fist to the sight before him, all desperate and teary-eyed and left out of the equation as all of your attention floods over Sugu. For once, Satoru would have to give up the spotlight. You wonder if that’d get him off too.
Probably.
“Fuuuuck,” he moans. The hand that isn’t working your clit snakes around you to press down on your lower stomach, feeling for the evidence of himself inside of you. He has to force you back against his chest a little, work the angle, but then he can feel it — the bulge of his cock in your belly.
It’s no surprise; Gojo is fucking huge. But looking down and seeing your skin taut with what’s inside has you reeling. Geto can see it too, you’re sure, because he’s shifting in his seat and clearing his throat.
“Satoru.” Your boyfriend’s voice is sharp. Jealous, maybe.
Satoru peers over your shoulder, smiling. “Yes, dear?”
“Over the arm of the sofa. Give her legs a break, yeah?”
Satoru doesn’t seem fazed; and your thighs were starting to shake with the exertion, but you can’t help but notice that every position Suguru has directed the two of you into has been lacking a face-to-face value between you and Toru. You don’t think that’s accidental.
Satoru doesn’t need to pull out to manoeuvre you into the new position. With his arms around your middle, and very little effort on his part, he shifts you up and over the arm of the couch. Your ass lifts as he pushes up to his knees and gets his footing behind you, all whilst remaining inside. Your hands find purchase on the arm as you turn your head to meet Suguru’s gaze once more. This isn’t a position he often has you in — he’s always thought of doggy as degrading.
You smile. You see how it is.
Your amusement is short-lived, though, as Satoru pulls almost all the way out of you, before slamming in with a harsh snap of his hips. You’re sent forwards, nearly toppling over the side of the couch as Satoru starts, and maintains, a mean pace. In and out and in and out, he drags his cock against your g-spot repeatedly. You can hardly get a breath in before he’s bottoming out inside of you again. And again.
Turns out, giving your legs a break means working every other part of you to exhaustion. You shouldn’t be surprised.
“That’s good,” Suguru praises, his voice heavy. “Tell me, how’s she feel?”
“Tight,” Satoru exhales. “And… wet, and—fuck—so good. I never want this to end.”
But he’s nearing his limit, and so are you. You can tell, his strokes are turning erratic, and the building tightness in your stomach guides your orgasm closer and closer with every passing second. You push your face into the arm of the couch, muffling your moans, and try desperately to focus on one thing at a time.
An impossible feat. Your mind is reeling; Satoru fucking into you like he’s fearful of ever losing this sensation; Suguru, watching with those assessing fucking eyes that make you want to take a bite of his brain; how good you feel between them both…
“Please,” you gasp, turning your head. Your cheek smushes against leather, making a mess of your face, but you don’t care. “Please.”
Satoru leans over you, keeping pace. “Please what, pretty?”
“She’s asking to cum.” Suguru lifts his chin. “She has to ask for permission first, isn’t that right?”
You nod frantically, tears blurring your vision as you hold onto something so desperate to slip through your fingers. You need to cum, to release, to take everything Satoru can give you and more.
“Who are you asking, baby?” Suguru implores. “Me, or Satoru?”
You don’t know. You don’t care. You think you know what Suguru wants to hear, so you whine out a short ‘you, please’, but your lover only shakes his head in reply.
“I’m not the one fucking you, am I?”
You try to turn your head to face Satoru, but your movement is cut off when he presses himself over your back, takes your face in one strong hand, and presses his lips to yours. He kisses you deeply, messily, and finally allows himself that face-to-face contact Suguru had so cleverly denied you two.
“Cum with me,” he whispers against your lips, pressing his lips to yours again. His tongue pushes into your mouth, tastes you from the inside out, before he pulls back again. “Gonna fill you up. Fuck you so full you’ll be dripping all over the leather. Then—” he stutters, groaning, “—then you’re gonna get down on your knees and clean it all up with your tongue. Then whatever spills out of you onto the floor as well.”
It’s lewd and grotesque, but the picture in your head spurs on your orgasm like nothing else could. The idea of doing something so degrading for a man that isn’t yours, in front of a man that is…
You cum so hard your vision flashes white. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed, but Satoru remains against your mouth, swallowing every loud, drawling moan you give him. You shake, completely overwhelmed with pleasure and pressure and the quick-to-come force of Satoru emptying his balls inside of you.
He must have been pent up. He floods your insides with a load so strong and harsh in its release that you can feel it filling you. Hot and desperate and so fucking good that you feel half-ready to cum again.
You close your eyes, bathe for a moment in the fullness you’re experiencing. Satoru kisses the back of your neck, and then between your shoulderblades, still seated nice and deep inside of you.
“You took that so well, love.”
Your eyes snap open at the closeness of Suguru’s voice, just to find him knelt by the sofa. His big hand reaches out to wipe a tear from beneath your eye, a doting look on his face. “Did you enjoy yourself? You’re such a mess.”
You nod, blissed. Suguru pushes up on his knees and closes the gap between your faces; you think he’s going to kiss you, but he stops just short of your lips and then pivots to whisper into your ear instead.
“If you enjoyed it so much, you’ll be happy to give Satoru another round, won’t you?”
professor nanami kento. he hates students like you, the troublemakers, so he fucking you.
beware. name calling. raw. hair-pulling. degrading.
troublemakers! It's the word nanami despises the most! he's an expert at keeping students in line and teaching them not to cause trouble. but you? you're the one student he just can't manage! you always find a way to create chaos at campus—altering and wearing your clothes your way, skipping classes, and even getting into fights!
nanami glared at you as he stood in front of you. “what's going on here?” he demanded, his tone stern and strict, as he looked at the guy you had beaten up while you stood there with a smirk. “to my office, now,” he ordered, turning and walking towards his office.
you followed him to his office casually like it's your second home— technically, you've been there more frequently rather than when you're at home. without anything in mind, you walk into his office before him. casually sitting your pretty ass on his leather chair with your feet up to his desk. nanami follows along soon, sitting in front of you— seriousness and strictness cover his face.
nanami frowns as he sees you already sitting in his chair. he closes the door with a firm click before walking over to his desk and sitting down in the chair across from you. “you have a lot of nerve, coming into my office like you own the place,” he says with a stern tone, trying to regain his authority over the situation. but you just smirk at him, your feet still propped up on his desk.
“what can I say? my favorite professor wants to see me in his office, I'm intrigued,” you smile at him, trying to play innocent. nanami looked at you for a moment before his gaze shifted to your smooth leg, sitting across his desk. your too-short skirt arise from the action. just from the sight nanami can feel his dick twitching under his beige trousers.
nanami quickly looks away from your exposed thigh, trying to maintain his composure. however, his mind wanders to the feeling of your soft skin, the way your skirt rides up to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of your panties. attempting to refocus on the matter at hand, he clears his throat before speaking, “that's not the point. you know very well that your behavior has been unacceptable lately.”
“but I didn't do anything, sir.”
you playing dumb, twirling your hair as your face masks an innocent look. “you know exactly what you're doing,” he says, trying to keep a stern tone but struggling as his eyes drift down to your lips. “look, i didn't bring you in here for this. i want to talk about your grades and attendance—”
“then what do you wanna talk about? you're not gonna talk about my grade, or attendance, then I'm not gonna stay in here for any longer.” you cut him off, suddenly feeling annoyed as you rolled your eyes. nanami trying to maintain his composure despite the growing desire he's feeling towards you. “there have been numerous reports of you distracting other students during class, and I've seen it with my own eyes as well.”
you follow his gaze— your legs. “that's just because they can't help but look at me, I can't control that, can I?” you shrug, giving him a cocky grin. he clenches his jaw, struggling to keep his gaze from wandering over your curves. your defiant attitude only serves to heighten his arousal.
his eyes flash with a mix of irritation and hunger as he takes in your unabashed confidence. “but you can control your own actions, can't you?” he crosses his arms over his chest, the gesture both defensive and possessive. “distracting other students, breaking rules...—”
“this isn't about grades or attendance, is it?” you step closer. his eyes immediately drop to your exposed leg, a shudder running through his body. he leans forward, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “no, it's not.” he whispers, his hands finding their way to your thighs, squeezing them gently.
you stop him by putting both of your feet to his lap, without saying a word wanting him to untie your shoes. he raises an eyebrow at the sight, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks up at you. “you're really pushing your luck, aren't you?” he reaches down, resting his hand on your ankle before slowly trailing his fingers up your calf— moving to your feet to untie your shoes. leaving your legs with anything but white stockings and knee-length sock.
he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixated on your legs. the white stockings hug your thighs, drawing his eyes higher and higher until he reaches the hem of your skirt and the tantalizing peek of your lace-covered panties. “you have beautiful legs.” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “do you wanna touch it, sir?” you ask, arching your back in front, puff-up your chest to him. your tight uniform hugging your body perfectly and nanami can see the line of your bra that supports your big boobs.
he sucked in a sharp breath as you move your feet to his bulge and caress it with your toes while biting your lip seductively. his eyes are drawn to your chest, the way your uniform hugs every curve, accentuating the swell of your breasts makes his cock throb in his pants. “If you keep that up, I might just lose control.”
“maybe I want that? I want you to lose control,” you giggle like some kid, happy and laughing when you get your first candy for the day. his breath hitches at your words, the thought of losing control sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. he watches you laugh, the way your eyes shine with amusement and the way your body moves with your giggles, it's all so intoxicating. his eyes darken as he watches you, his hands clenching into fists. “you're playing with fire, little minx,” he warns, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.
“yeah? I think you're the one who's playing with fire. I mean— you're screwing your students, sir..” you get up from his desk and sit on his lap. both of your feet on each side, before his big thigh. your hands wrap around nanami's neck. a low growl rumbles in nanami's chest as you straddle his lap, your soft thighs pressing against his muscular ones. he can feel the heat of your core through your uniform, and his cock stiffens further, straining against the fabric of his pants.
he can't take it anymore. he grips your hips, pulling you closer until your breasts are pressed against his chest, a wave of lust washing over him. the fabric of your uniform the only barrier between the two of you. he crushes his lips against yours, hungrily taking in the sweet smell and taste of your lips.
the kiss is rough and demanding, his tongue plunging into your mouth to tangle with yours. his hands grip your ass, pulling you closer to him, letting you feel every inch of his hard cock throbbing against your core. “you're fucking mine now.”
breaking the kiss, he leaves a trail of biting kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. his hands move to your blouse, ripping the buttons open and revealing your lacy bra— exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. “so fucking perfect,” he groans, cupping and squeezing your breasts roughly. his mouth descends on your breast, sucking one nipple into his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. “you taste so fucking good, y/n.”
“oh, fuck—” you moan, keeping your hands on his blonde locks as you grind on his hard-rock cock in his trousers— making a mess with your wetness. his cock throbs with desire, pre-cum leaking from the tip and mixing with your wetness. his hands keep on groping and squeezing your boobs hard. “you like that, baby? you like feeling my hard cock grinding on your wet little pussy, y/n?”
you nod, “yes sir, ’s good, your tongue so good.” you keep on grinding on his bludge. his hands grab your ass, pulling you down harder onto his cock as he grinds back with a primal snarl. “you want me to make you cum, baby? you want me to fuck you hard like a little slut you are, hm?” you eagerly nod as you kiss him roughly, tongue-tingling and lip-biting here and there. your saliva escapes from both mouths, down to your thigh.
the kiss becomes sloppy, his tongue probing your mouth as he moans into you. his hands grip your ass harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he grinds up against you with all his might. his cock is so hard he thinks he might cum just from the friction alone. “say it, baby. tell me what you want.”
“i want you to slide this hard cock into my wet, needy pussy. I want to ride you until I cum? please sir, fuck me like a little slut that I am,” you beg him on his lips. he crush his lips to yours for another, throwing his tongue down to your throat. he groans, his hands squeezing your tits roughly, pinching your nipples between his fingers.
he tears his lips from yours, panting heavily. his eyes are wild, dark with lust as he looks at you. “get up on the desk.” his voice is low and gravelly, full of command. “i want to see you spread out for me, legs open and waiting.”
he helps you up onto the desk, pushing your skirt up around your waist and pulling your panties down to your thighs. his cock throbs at the sight of your wet pussy, glistening in the light. “look at you, y/n. already wet for me, your friends were right, you're such a whore.” nanami slap your swollen pussy, smearing your juice around. “only for you sir,” you winked.
he grabs his cock, guiding it to your entrance. he rubs the head against your clit for a moment, making your body shudder before thrusting into you in a hard, fast motion. you gasp and cry out as he stretches your tight pussy. “Oh fuck!—” startled, you jolt in pain as nanami's big cock suddenness. you know he's big, but you never actually know how big he was until right now. “fuck!” you cry, hands gripping his biceps. “it hurt— Ah!” but nanami doesn't care, your crying only giving him some pride— knowing he was probably the biggest dick that ever was inside your pussy.
he smirks at your cries, enjoying the tight squeeze of your pussy around his thick girth. “that's right, baby, take it all,” he growls, slowly thrusting in deeper. “you're meant to be stretched by my cock, isn't that right?”
“s-stop, fuck! nanami— ah, s’ big, i can't —”
“can't what, baby?” he taunts, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, then slamming back in with a forceful thrust. “can't handle my big cock?you can and you will,” he said firmly as he grins, loving the way your pussy clamps down on him in protest. “you're going to take every inch of my cock like a good little slut, y/n.”
you moan, “no, too big, hurt— Ahh!”
“too big for you, huh?” he chuckles darkly, picking up the pace of his thrusts. “that's because you're meant for my size, doll. your pussy was made for my cock.” he smirks, gripping your hips firmly. “but it feels so good, doesn't it?“ he starts to thrust in and out of you with hard, fast strokes, causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure. “you love the way my cock stretches you open...”
he continues to thrust in and out of you, not holding back at all. his cock is slick with your juices, making it easier for him to fill you completely. he watches as your breasts bounce with each thrust, relishing in the sight of his claiming of your body.
soon enough the pain you were feeling before cleared out of your mind and the pleasure started to kick in. “oh, fuck, fuck, yes..” your eyes flickering caused by the pleasure nanami gave you. “that's right baby, feel good yeah?” he groans, feeling your body start to relax and give into the pleasure. He continues to piston in and out of you, watching as you grow more and more responsive.
“yes, fuck, sir— so good, so fucking good,” you look at him with hooded eyes, cheeks flustered. “you like that, don't you?” he purrs, leaning down to catch your lips in a bruising kiss. “being fucked like an animal...” he trails off, kissing down your neck and marking you roughly. “you like it when I take you like this, don't you?” he growls, nipping at your neck with his teeth. he can feel your body trembling beneath him as he pounds into you with wild abandon. “you're my little slut, aren't you?”
“yes, I'm your slut— fuck, I'm a slut.”
“and a damn good one, too,” he grunts, his hips moving faster as he pounds into you. he can practically hear your pussy weeping to be filled with his cum, and the thought only makes him thrust harder. “you want my cum, don't you, whore?”
“yes, please, fill me in with your cum— fuck me so good,” you whimpered, back arching from the pleasure. but nanami had another idea, he flipped you— brought you to your stomach. he pushed your head to the desk before slitting his dick back into your pussy, fucking you from behind.
“like this, baby?” he growls, his hips snapping forward as he thrusts into you with brutal force. “take it, whore.” he wraps a hand around your neck from behind and squeezes, causing you to gasp in pleasure-pain. “take every inch of my cock.” your eyes rolled back to your brain as your mouth hanging an open, drunk for nanami's big cock. his big hand spanks your ass, leaving a red mark as if he's making a territory out of you.
“you look so fucking sexy like this, doll,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your clit as he pounds into you relentlessly. he reaches down to spank your ass again and can't help but groan in pleasure as he watches it jiggle from the impact. “yes, fuck, just like that,” he moans, his hips moving faster. he wants to claim you completely, to mark you as his own. his thrusts become erratic, his hand leaving another red mark on your ass and he bites his lip in pleasure.
“you're mine,”
“i'm yours, sir.”
you surrender, letting him fuck you so good and use your body as a sex toy. your moan and his filling the room, echo in every corner. the sound of slapping and your cry is all nanami could ever hear. the sound of the desk creaking as your hands grasp it, holding it for dear life. “that's right, slut,” he smirks, gripping onto your hips tightly as he thrusts into you with wild abandon. he can't get enough of your moans, the way your body trembles beneath him, the way you surrender to him completely.
he pulls both of your hands, holding them with one hand while his other hand pulls your hair roughly. your chest no longer touches the desk and you could feel his dick full inside of you angering bigger than before. “fuck, fuck fuck, so good, — ah!” you are crying in pleasure.
“that's right baby, scream for me,” he growls, yanking your hair harder as he pounds into you even faster. “let everyone know who's fucking you raw and hard, you filthy little slut.” his grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. he leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “you like that, don't you? you like being stretched wide open on my dick, feeling it fill you up until you can't take anymore,”
without slowing his pace, nanami leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “you belong to me. only me. I'm the only man who will ever fuck you like this, who will ever make you scream like this.” with a smirk, he starts thrusting even harder, making sure you can feel every inch of him stretching you to the brink. his hand on your hair tugs roughly every time he sinks into you, drawing out your moans and making you squirm beneath him. he let go of your hands to grasp your neck, squeezing it lightly after he pulls you closer until your back almost touch his front.
he grips your neck, squeezing just enough to feel the rush of dominance coursing through him. Your breath hitches as he pulls you back until your back is pressed against his chest. his lips ghost over your ear, whispering filthy things that make you tremble with anticipation. he can feel your heart pounding against his hand as he starts to thrust again, pulling you back against him with every stroke.
“fuck, I'm close— fuck, fuck, shiiit!”
“beg for it,” he demands, his voice husky with desire. “beg me to make you cum like the dirty little slut you are.” with every word, he moves faster, harder, his grip on your neck making it even more difficult to breathe. “please.. please, gonna cum— let me cum, sir,” you beg him.
one hand around his wrist on your neck while the other goes behind his head, grasping to his hair. he chuckled darkly, his hips moving wildly as your body shudders and spasms in pleasure. he feels your pussy clench around him as you reach orgasm, his hands gripping you tighter than ever.
with a wicked grin, he reaches around to rub your clit, pushing you over the edge. “cum for me, slut,” he snarls, still thrusting into you hard and fast. He wants to feel you cum around his dick and hear you scream his name. “that's right, whore, cum all over my dick,” he commands, giving you the freedom to release yourself. with a few more desperate thrusts, he lets himself go as well, his hot seed filling you up with a final hard thrust. “do it, cum for me. and I swear to god, if you hold back, you'll regret it.”
with a final thrust, he can feel himself reaching the edge too. as he comes, his grip on your neck tightens. he lets out a long groan as he empties himself inside you. “fuck, you're milking my cock so good,” he groans.
after he emptied his ball inside your pussy, a sight of relief could be heard. suddenly you have no strength to stand and fall to the desk with your back facing nanami, still trying to catch your breath as you close your eyes. your cum and his slowly dripping from your well-fucked pussy to the floor.
nanami watches you fall back onto the desk, his chest still heaving with the aftermath of his intense release. he lets out a low chuckle at the sight of you, his face a mix of satisfaction and dark amusement. “look at you, all spread out and dripping for me,” the brat attitude is no longer in the room with you.
he walks around to face you, his eyes roaming over your exhausted form. “you took your punishment like a good little slut, didn't you? now, let's see if you learned your lesson.” he reaches down and pulls your legs apart, inspecting the red, swollen folds of your pussy. he smiled at himself, “you were amazing, y/n, so thoroughly used and fucked,” he compliments you, leaning over and gently brushing some hair out of your face. “but next time, you'll have to take me on again with that smart mouth still intact.” he kisses your forehead.
you open your eyes to look at him, “fuck you!” you mumble, too tired as he chuckles darkly at your defiant words, even as your eyelids droop shut again. “not so feisty now, are you? that's what happens when you mouth off to the wrong guy.” he gently squeezes your inner thighs, spreading them wider.
“stay here,” he orders as he tap your ass and then walks off to the bathroom, leaving you laying on the desk with your legs still spread apart. when he returns, his cock is already shrinking back to its normal size— even the normal side is still big.
he returns with a damp washcloth and kneels beside the desk, gently wiping the remnants of your juices and cum from your thighs and pussy. his touch is surprisingly tender as he cleans you up, his fingers careful not to press too hard against the sore flesh. after cleaning you he carried you to the couch in his office as he lay you there on top of him and covered your body with a warm blanket. you snuggle to his chest, seeking comfort in his arm as he cradles you close.
as you snuggle into his chest, you can feel the warmth of his body beneath you, his heart still pounding from your intense encounter. he wraps the blanket around you both, cocooning you in a sense of safety and security that contrasts sharply with the brutal fucking you just endured.
“now go to sleep, I'll wake you up after an hour,” he mumbled in your head. he chuckles, a warm vibration against your cheek. “what if someone's looking for you?” you asked. “they won't find me here. this office is soundproofed and heavily guarded. we're perfectly safe.” his hand drifts up to cup your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. “besides, I'm not expecting anyone.” nanami can see the look on your face when he looks down. the what-the-fuck expression you have.
“heavily guarded? what are you? a fucking presiden?”
a small chuckle rumbles in his chest, the vibrations making you smile slightly in your sleep. “maybe in some ways,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “but for now, just let me take care of you.” he answers with a small smile. “and yes, I'm heavily guarded. I'm a man of great privilege and power,” he admits with pride.
you look up at him, your eyebrows narrow as you place your chin on his chest, “pussy,” you rolled your eyes before getting back to your original position— cheek pressing to his chest.
he stifles a laugh at your response, shaking his head slightly. “you have quite the tongue on you,” he says, amused. he wraps his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer to him as he presses a kiss on the top of your head. “alright, now behave yourself and get some rest before I have to spank that pert ass for being so insolent. let me take good care of you.”
feeling content and reassured by his words, you drift off to sleep on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep. completely unaware of his gaze taking in every inch of your body, a small smirk tugging at his lips. he gently strokes your hair, he sets a timer on his phone, planning to wake you up precisely one hour later.
Bully Naoya who you've known since you were kids. Always really cruel to you, but secretly has the hots for you. 😌🫴❤️
We listen and we don't judge. I love that piece of trash
ok this is cheating bc I love bully aus sm you know I immediately had to write this lol (I was actually debating on writing a bully version of nerdjo but I wasn't sure if you guys would want that lol)
bully!Naoya who made it his life's mission at age eight to torture the most annoying girl he'd had the displeasure of meeting - all because you accidentally broke his favorite toy on a play date your parents had brought you both to
bully!Naoya who turned you into his new toy, starting off small at school, a shove on the playground, stealing your lunch, convincing the other weak-minded and malleable kids to cut you out of conversations, sneaking your homework out of your bag to rip it up when you went to the bathroom
bully!Naoya who loved to see you cry, how glossy your eyes would get as the dewy tears streamed down your face in frustration
bully!Naoya who, uh, never really thought he'd be imagining what you would look like making that face now
bully!Naoya whose fist is wrapped around a pair of panties he possibly (definitely) stole from your dresser from a visit to your house his parents dragged him to, seeing you for the first time since you transferred colleges to get away from him and his neverending torment
bully!Naoya who didn't miss you, couldn't miss you, but his body is screaming something different, his cock leaking and aching from watching you pout and glare at him from across the kitchen table, his stare stuck on his your too-tight dress was clinging to your body
bully!Naoya who corners you in the kitchen to scoff that you should buy something that's actually your size, just for another reason for his eyes to linger on every line and curve it revealed, all the skin it exposed
bully!Naoya who is dumbfounded when you just huff back at him you have plans after this, two fingers pressed against his chest to push him away while muttering something about him still being such an asshole
bully!Naoya who swears he can feel the ghost of your fingers, could trace where the pads of them had wrinkled his shirt, but really he just wishes they were the ones stroking him instead, wondering if you'd be mean about, teasing him as you ran them over every ridge an vein, or if you'd be soft, press delicate kisses over his swollen tip
bully!Naoya who decides he has to know, putting in a request to transfer colleges and pulling every string and connection his parents had available to land himself in half your classes
bully!Naoya who trips you the first time he sees you, sending your books and laptop to the ground, a sharp crack! on the sidewalk as it landed wrong, the screen shattering on impact
bully!Naoya who doesn't feel bad, no, he's just stuttering something that almost sounds like an apology as he offers to buy a new one when he bends over to pick the rest of your stuff up, dragging his attention up from your cleavage pushed up from the low-cut of your shirt up to your surprisingly cold expression
bully!Naoya who is just staring when you bluntly ask if he'll leave you alone if you let him fuck you
bully!Naoya who guesses he must've said yes because it felt like he just blinked and he ended up in your bed, naked on your cotton sheets, your soft thighs straddling him as you slowly sank down on his thick length, watching how your pretty eyes screwed shut and your cute lips parted in a little gasp
bully!Naoya who watches himself disappear into you, unable to do anything other than groan considering you handcuffed his hands to the bed so he couldn't touch you back, your sharp nails scratching at his chest and shoulders for purchase when you settle down on the last few inches, your warmth wrapping so tightly around him and squeezing as he struggles to hold his sanity together
bully!Naoya who hates how badly he wants to kiss you, wants to flip you over and bottom out again and again until you cry his name with kiss-bruised lips and glazed-over eyes, tears brimming over your lashes while you cling to him
bully!Naoya who moans your name instead when you fuck yourself on him with a brutal pace, your hips bouncing up-and-down while you dig your nails deeper, the pleasure and pain mixing until he was quickly unraveling, his abs and muscles starting to tense just for you to pull out completely, humming and you shove your fingers in his mouth to shut him up, ignoring the way his sharp teeth nipped at your knuckles
bully!Naoya who can't tell if he's furious or even more aroused when you do let him finish, his cock raw and red as he fills you up, his cum coating your thighs when you slip off of him and start gathering your clothes up off the floor, wordlessly watching you pick your phone up from the nightstand just to snap a photo of him, flustered and fucking blushing
bully!Naoya who buys you a new laptop the next day, delivering it to your door with a note slipped in begging demanding you go on an actual date with him
divider by @anitalenia !!
a/n: kinda wanna do a second part to this of them working at the same company post-college lol :p
18+ MDNI fuck off minors!! 📢 horny hour wowie‼️ ghost and price with meek virgin fem reader highly unrealistic you take it up both holes yada yada reader is referred to as small and tiny...
you recoil into yourself shyly, drawing your legs up to your chest to hide your most sensitive parts.
"you scared, dove?" simon smirks, slowly reaching and gently moving his fingertips up and down your calf, not making a move yet.
"not gonna hurt you, pretty girl." john purrs, touching your thighs lightly, looking you over with dark eyes.
you look up at them with big glossy eyes and gulp audibly.
fear. anticipation. all coursing through your veins. you'd dream about them using you for their own pleasure.
from where you're sitting at the edge of the bed, you can see two giant mountains of men towering over you, huge monstrous cocks in their hands, angry red tips ravenously dripping with precum as they eye you like predators.
simon reaches over, placing his hands on your knees, murmuring "it's okay, baby." before slowly parting your legs as if to unravel the captured prey.
the cool air hits your core as he reveals your bare pussy to the two feral men.
you can see the seething fire in their eyes as you hold your legs spread for them.
"look at tha' cap!" simon coos, running a rough finger along your folds, gathering your arousal on his fingertips, so soaked and soft against his skin. you're practically dripping with desire.
"dirty little girl," john smirks, running a thumb over your lips, "wanna be fucked by two giant men so bad, huh?"
"p-please." you beg quietly. the noise is barely there. it's like a kitten's squeak.
"fuckin hell," simon chuckles, licking your juices off his fingers, "sweet fuckin pussy's beggin to be ruined."
"come on, girl. up—" john suddenly pulls you forward and flips you over, earning a startled yelp from you, "there you go."
simon comes up behind you as you're bent over the bed, large hands palming your plump cheeks before parting them to reveal your pretty hole, "fuckin look at tha'!"
he spits a ball of saliva over your puckered hole, rubbing in slow circles before pushing a thick digit inside, testing the waters. you gasp as he rolls it against your walls, groaning at how tight you are, chuckling "how are ya gonna take my cock, girl?" he inserts a second finger, making you squeal in return, the stretch feeling new and foreign.
simon slides his fingers in and out, prepping your tiny hole as you let out breathy moans.
"how ya feelin, doll?" john asks, "think you can take it?"
the men exchange a look, waiting for your answer.
"i- i... yeah," you squeal out, "please, y-yes"
and all of a sudden, you're in simon's burly arms, back against his broad chest with your knees beside your ears as his thick throbbing cock stretches your tight little hole so wide you think you're gonna split in half, "fuckin grippin me so tight, lovie." he hisses into your ear as your mouth falls more agape the deeper he enters.
you watch with wide eyes as john approaches. you think you can't take it. it's impossible. you're gonna break.
simon's muscular arms hold your legs wide open for him, soaked pretty pussy before his lustful eyes.
his drooling tip nudges your clit, teasingly circling it before sliding through your folds. you let out a stuttered little noise as john pushes forward. "shh, pretty girl. you can take it." he shushes you, sliding more and more inside, parting your tight untouched walls as you mewl and writhe between them.
simon holds your legs tightly as john's hands support your weight by holding your ass. they're both buried to the hilt inside your needy holes, stretching you out to your absolute limit. you feel so, so full. it's dizzying.
they give you no time to adjust and with absolutely no mercy, they thrust into you in unison, drilling their huge mean cocks in and out of your tiny holes and utterly ruining you.
in no time, your loud noises fill the room as they ram into you relentlessly, virgin holes filled up to the brim by their fat cocks. it hurts, but it feels too good to stop. you can't stop the broken moans that slip through your lips at the sheer girth of them.
"hear tha', cap?" simon grunts, "not a shy little lamb anymore — moaning like a fuckin whore for us."
simon's massive arms hold you all throughout while his beefy cock fucks into your tight ass, reaching places you didn't know existed and john spreads your tiny cunt open on his meaty cock, fat tip bruising your cervix as he hits that sweet spot deep inside you.
your eyes roll back and your mind goes blank, lost in pure bliss as they brutally abuse your holes, knocking the air right out of your lungs and leaving you no room to breathe as desperate little moans escape your lips while you mindlessly paw at price's hairy chest.
"look at the pretty little slut," john says, "just a tiny little fucktoy for us."
you're a crying drooling mess, tears and saliva running down your face, pressed between their giant bodies, their ragged breaths in your ears, drenched in sweat, precum and your juices as they ravage your body like feral animals, reducing you to just a set of holes for them to use.
until you're left with their heavy loads pumped deep inside your sloppy abused holes, body shaking violently and brain turned to mush as they tuck your limp body into bed, kissing your forehead and praising you about how such a good little slut you were for them.
𐔌 cw: age gap with reader mentioned to be a student, financial to emotional struggles, not so casual relationship, simon is madly in love and also a perv .ᐟ
simon’s deployment call came at midnight. he had been sprawled over the tangled sheets, snoring loudly with one hand pinned numb and heavy under his ribs and rugged face nuzzled deep into the pillow. the ringtone roused him instantly, his muscle memory taking over before his brain did, not even having to reach out and see the caller id on the screen to know that price was on the other end.
noting the time displayed on the lock screen as his thumb swiped it away, nowhere near dawn yet, he picked up. clearing his parched throat, spitting a rough, barely legible grunt, only to be met with john's deep, gravelly chuckle, stating he needed him on base by sunrise.
the call had ruined a perfectly good dream, leaving him stranded with an aching hard on from remembering the way you squealed whenever he had you split vice tight over his girthy cock, hiccuping in those sweet, shattered whimpers that sounded a hell of a lot better than the focused scowl you wore when busy.
still, he hauled his massive frame up and stretched toward the ceiling until his joints cracked, muttering a curse, rolling his sinewy shoulders before reaching down and yanking a pre packed duffel bag from under the bed rungs. already with his essentials, he only had to get dressed and remember to pull his worn out balaclava from the bedside drawer.
grumbling under his nose on a way to the front door, he ran a hand through his tousled hair when freezing at the kitchen threshold, hooded gaze landing on the fridge. stacked neatly inside were the stash you’d made for him, some meaty pasta, seared beef slices with vegetables in a savory sauce, and even freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, his stomach putting up a starved roar.
he opened the duffel bag and stuffed it all inside over spare uniforms without an issue, since he only packed a meager few. zipping it all back up, he pulled on his boots, tugged a hood over his head, and made sure to leave a key beneath the doormat. simon had never given you a copy, hadn't had one made, so he left his own, making sure to fire off a quick text message he knew you’d wake up to.
› simon (creep): got deployed, don't know how long, key under the rug luv'.
you had known he was in the military since your very first meeting, back when he mentioned it was the sole reason his flat was such a disaster. he hadn’t told you what exactly he did for a living, but it hadn’t mattered much, as long as his payments cleared. now, however, things had changed.
pacing through the empty, spotless flat that no longer required your daily attention felt entirely wrong, there was no loud snoring vibrating from the gloomy bedroom, the one where he kept the drapes bolted tight because he couldn't stand the daylight, and the tv wasn't blasting some trashy reality show loud enough for you to yell a commentary at the screen from the bathroom.
forgetting for a moment that there was no one left to cook for, you cracked the fridge door to start prep only to find it completely bare. there wasn't a single container left inside, the massive mountain of food, enough to satisfy a small family or keep his heavy muscle mass fueled for a week, had simply evaporated.
reaching for your phone where it lay on the kitchen countertop, you pulled up your chat with simon. your brief, polite understood in response to his sudden deployment was already flagged with two blue checkmarks, and you began typing out a new sentence, never anticipating the near instant vibration of an answer hitting your screen.
› my witch: did you eat all the food?
› simon (creep): packed it with me, shared some with boys, they told me i'm lucky to have you.
› my witch: okay. thanks.
johnny and kyle were not only surprised to see so much homemade food, but practically wept with joy as they shoveled it down, polishing off the entire haul in one single sitting and licking their forks clean. they repeatedly told simon he was a lucky bastard, more so kyle, who kept rubbing it in that he’d been the genius to suggest hiring a housekeeper in the first place.
once the plastic tubes were spotless, bearing no trace that food had ever been inside, with even the creamy sauce completely licked from their edges, simon snapped a picture to send you. the photo showed the boys slumped back with their palms flat over their full bellies, the stacked, empty containers balanced right on simon's thick, muscular thighs.
› my witch: wow.
when your blunt, unbothered answer lit his screen, a slow, genuine smirk pulled at his lips at your response under skull balaclava. he scratched idly at the back of his fabric covered nape, looking entirely too soft for a man in full tactical gear, a slip that had johnny opening his mouth to throw a mocking jab. though the taunt earned him a wordless warning that glinted bottomless in simon’s coal irises, looking easily noticeable when accented by blonde, wispy lashes.
the flat required a sweep once or twice a week, there simply wasn't enough furniture in the place to hold dust, but you still found excuses to turn the key in his lock far more than necessary. you had grown used to driving there every day, only to be greeted by an empty silence instead of the broad, toothy grin that usually tugged at his scarred face whenever he looked you up and down, calloused hands reaching out to eagerly grope your delectable curves.
meanwhile, simon was being run ragged at the base, his eyes growing bloodshot from a lack of proper sleep, mind too wired to let him rest when he finally hit the mattress. even locking himself in a stall and jacking off until his fist was tired and his cock went dead limp, picturing your drooling pussy stretched thin around his throbbing cock and ass bouncing from his hips, didn't take the edge off, not at all.
his bunched muscles and scarred limbs put up an aching protest with every step, driving his temper through the roof, though none of it was enough to compromise his work, he was still sharp and moving, the rot trapped strictly behind the skull. john had informed him that this operation would take months, and upon hearing the news, simon had chewed his bottom lip raw at the words.
uneven edge of his teeth tearing skin until the metallic taste of copper flooded his mouth, thick eyebrows drawn into a tight knot. he knew it would take time, deployments were always a matter of months, only the digits on the calendar changing, but still, it ate at him that you were left entirely alone back there.
he hadn’t possessed the heart, rotten one or not, to tell you how long his deployments actually lasted, having settled for a simple lie that he could be gone for a week. messaging you whenever managing to find a free moment, given a two hour window to crash on a sleeping bag in some ratty, dark outpost room.
hadn't expecting a notification back, considering the clock had long since cleared midnight, but you did, having been huddled under your own sheets, restlessly scrolling through your phone, his screen litting up instantly.
› simon (creep): deployment will take about three months, still paying you though.
› my witch: okay, it's no issue.
a small square displaying a ridiculous sum of money flashed in your thread, sent by him to cover the months ahead. in truth, a girl could have taken the cash and vanished, ghosted him entirely, but simon didn't seem to give a damn about any possible risk.
the notification made you remember how he had laughed, the loudest you’d ever heard it and more genuinely than ever before, at the stubborn way you had furrowed your brows, scowling at the price tag of the ribeyes he’d requested for a dinner. it hadn't even come out of your own wallet, he’d handed you the cash himself, but you’d still managed to treat his budget like a personal crisis, fretting over.
such deposit was easily double your standard rate, you knew the exact math of it because your ongoing financial struggles forced you to count every single penny. overdue rent notices stacked away in a neat, suffocating pile, waiting for the moments you would inevitably sit and look them over and over, until a sickening nervousness churned restlessly in your gut.
this single transfer could cover your every need, perhaps even allow you to buy something new for the apartment, a proper couch, or a bigger, softer bed. but the longer you stared at the glowing font, the more the inheritance felt like a beautifully designed cage.
› my witch: the amount is bigger than it should be.
› simon (creep): know it, doesn't matter, if i give then it should be like that.
your thumb hovered frozen over the button to send the excess money right back to him, dragging a palm across your face, desperate to soothe the hot, stinging burn behind the lids. a tight, cramping lump gathered in your throat, ribs feeling crushed, making it agonizingly hard to even choke down a breath, chest tightening as you wavered at the very edge of tears.
and simon, sitting miles away, noticed your lingering silence, remembering all too well how fiercely you had bristled the first time he tried to pay double when you only started working for him. panicking in his own way, he scrambled for something to say, to break the tension and steady you, settling on playing the hard ass, trying to force some reassurance, but slipping embarrassingly in the process.
› simon (creep): won't accept any attempts at sending those back. you need to restore your magic with something, ain't ya?
the teasing came easy to him, tied to that witch nickname he’d branded you with, and the light banter actually made the pressure under your ribs dissolve, as though someone had finally uncuffed your lungs, letting a faint, genuine smile edge onto your mouth.
a tingling warmth began spooling deep in your belly, thighs shifting restlessly against the sheets, and it felt so incredibly foreign that a mere dialogue, this small shard of care you allowed him to show and subsequently received, could cause your skin to pebble with goosebumps. you simply weren't accustomed to such dedicated attention.
simon texted nothing in response, staring blankly at the screen, agonizing over whether he had made you uncomfortable or had crossed the strict boundary you had drawn on your very first day, a line you hadn't established for nothing. he didn't want to seem weird, let alone predatory, there was, after all, a undeniable gulf between you, one that would make any civil folk look askance, a problematic reality by most standards, both in age and status.
he was a hardened military lieutenant with a fat bank account and a scribbled mess where a normal romantic history should be, you were a struggling, cornered college girl he had every resource to exploit. you were smart, dangerously so, but the real joke was that you didn't even have to try, for all his size and power, you had the man completely, utterly wrapped around your finger.
he rubbed two roughened fingers over his bristly jaw when another quiet ping rattled the silence, no words, but a picture that made him choke on a heavy groan. eyes widening, umber irises glinting as they absorbed the cool toned light the screen cast, slowly turning into tiny voids, pupils blowing wide.
in the photo, your shirt was rucked up, the fabric stretched thin but remaining soft and comfortable to sleep in, caught firmly between your teeth. it left your pretty tits bounced right into the frame, nipples rigid and peaked close to the lens. with belly bare, your panties dragged low on your hips, the tiny ribbon bow stitched at the center perfectly visible.
simon’s cock thickened instantly at the sight of your tits, giving a kick so violent he had to clench his jaw tight, molars cracking together as his cock twitched hard against his burly thigh. but it was the view of your hand reaching down, two fingers parted across the clothed, plump folds of your sweet pussy, that sent all the blood rushing to the swollen crown, oozing sticky pre come and leaving his subsequent text littered with typos.
› simon (creep): chris, tbag' a gift for me, lovei?
› my witch: mm, thought you'll like it.
he took a deep drag of the air, getting so drunk on the image that his head spun, reaching a massive hand down to palm his heavy bulge, hissing low through clenched teeth. canines grinding together as his vision grew bleary all too quickly, utterly lost in a sudden surge of arousal that made it near impossible to string a single word together.
swiping a messy, trembling thumb over his phone screen while his other hand gripped his clothed cock tight, he found the call button, listening to the muffled, long tones ring into the dark. perhaps he had hurried, or maybe you thought that was the only remedy he deserved, but you picked up just as a ragged moan escaped his throat.
the surprised, breathless hiccup you let out in response had sent his fingers into a panic as he yanked down the brass teeth of his cargo zipper. growling like a caged animal, his focus drilling to catch the faint rustling coming from your end, though the rapid, thundering leap of pulse in his ears almost turned him deaf.
leaving his corded muscles heavy and numb as he breathed a raw, desperate prayer into the receiver “tauch yaurself, luv” he almost pleaded, voice strewn raucous and molassed with desire.
it was impossible not to obey a voice that sounded so close to being needy, you had never heard a man sound this way for you, a man who usually carried himself like a dog, all bared teeth, crushing hands, and territorial purrs whether you were wearing clothes or completely bare, sounded so brokenly desperate for you. you could have just stood there and done nothing, and that would have been enough for simon to haul you into his arms, chapped lips pressing to your throat and kneading your ass, completely unbothered by distracting you from your chores.
with all your worries banished and your head dizzy from his tender command, you obeyed, fingers pressed firmly against your clothed cunt, tips tracing gentle swipes along the sensitive, soppy seam. pelvis rolling in a slow, instinctive arc, rocking against your own warm palm as a high pitched, desperate whine welled up in your throat.
“saund so pretty when ya pussy teased. . rub that' littl' clit' f'me” simon let out a low grunt, hand already wrapped tightly around his hefty girth as his hips bucked upward in a frantic rhythm. even the hard ground beneath him, with his thin sleeping bag doing absolutely nothing to soften the stone digging into his tailbone, could not halt the relentless pace of his palm dragging up and down.
every single callus and scar etched into his skin only served to heighten the raw sensation even more, foreskin pulling back with pearlescent drops scattering around. you hummed something, a tangled thread of garbled words that bled together until they formed his name, sounding so deviously broken over the line that simon had to tighten his grip. ivory fist squeezing hard where the blood pulsed violently from the base of his cock all the way to its gorged, aching tip.
obscenely wet sounds that followed his every wanking motion flooded the speaker, causing your shoulders to curl inward as your toes flexed in a helpless reaction. the heel of your palm pressed firmly against your fattened clit, which twitched restlessly until it was trapped beneath the intense pressure, forcing a strangled, breathless noise from your throat.
as your fingers circled your entrance, the cotton fabric of your underwear gone translucent and clung to lacquered skin, drenched from the slick. loosened hole clenching around nothing but empty air, before gushing a fresh spill of warmth that caused your woozy movements to quicken in a rush.
simon hears it all, and it brings him too quickly to his peak, driven over the edge by nothing but the dazed, shy whimpers you let slip into the call, your ragged gasps, and the soft, slick noises filtering through the speaker the moment you slid your dainty fingers beneath the cloth. cotton gusset bunched and crumpled under your hand, creating an awkward discomfort that chafed against swollen, too tender skin, but your frantic pace never wavered.
breaking climax hit you both at once, a sharp, choked back scream ripping through. he even had to slam his teeth down into his own wrist, clamping his jaw shut to kill the raw, needy grunt that threatened to echo your dazed whimpers.
waiting for the trembling to leave his chest before he could drag up a voice that sounded like gravel “christ', yau did so good, sweitheart'.. the absolut' best' for me’’ simon soothed over, but you could only let out a small sniffle. face nuzzled deep into the pillow by now, mouth slightly drooly and parted, while one hand still cupped over your mound, feeling the throbbing aftershocks.
you didn't even bother with the sticky wetness or the way your thighs shook in the aftermath, instead reaching up with your other arm, two fingers finding one hardened nipple, pinching it firmly through your shirt and letting out a loud, deliberately dirty moan.
it caught his attention anew, as he sat there in the gloom of his outpost, cum splattered across his flexing belly, tight shirt riding up just enough to expose the haired, firm pudge of his stomach, cargo pants a complete mess. but who was he to turn away what you gave to him so eagerly? he drank it all in hungrily, hoarding the memory before your pride kicked back in and you turned into his sharp tongued, sassy witch.
time bled on, weeks passed in a blur, you kept up with your work, answering whenever he texted to ask how you were doing, sending him routine pictures of his clean flat, initially saying no whenever he demanded face pictures, but inevitably sending them anyway.
your eyebrows creased in a stubborn scowl in every single shot, a view that kept him grinning like a complete idiot in the middle of a briefing. sometimes, you would even send a nude or two, bent over on a rug with your butt perched up, panties pulling taut over puffy folds, or captured right as you exited the shower, twirling in front of the mirror before snapping a photo where the towel covered you strictly from the front.
breasts and pelvis shielded from the greedy eye, but your damp shoulders and glistening hips were exposed, skin looking so delicate and edible, so terrifyingly biteable that his throat bobbed hard, forcing him to swallow the sudden flood of saliva that filled his mouth.
you had stopped counting the days, or noticing them at all, growing thoroughly exhausted as your college workload turned more demanding than ever before. It had leaving you feeling caged, clawing at the walls of your own mind with no outlet for the panic, causing you to close off entirely.
› simon: how are you, witchy?
› simon: you're busy?
› simon: it's been days, luv, is everything okay?
no words, no answers, simon was on edge, less than a week away from clearing the base and flying back to his flat, back to you, when you suddenly disappeared, and simon was a remarkably paranoid man when it came to losing tabs on the few things he kept close.
you had no proper sleep and insufficient nourishment, the skin beneath your eyes bruising, while a simple assignment had you clawing at your temples because you simply could not fail. the lock clicked at midnight, the exact hour he’d vanished weeks ago, heavy duffel bag shuffling against his side, the only sounds around being the nocturnal hum of crickets and distant music booming from a few floors below.
his massive shoulders were locked tight under the weight of a bone deep fatigue, front door giving way, but the interior was a black vault, no lights, no noise, a dead unmoving space. yet, he immediately noticed the shoes by the entrance, not his combat boots, but your sneakers, the same worn pair he’d watched you slip into for months.
not bothering at ripping his mud caked boots off, he let the duffel drop to the floorboards, bending his knees low to let the nylon land without a sharp crack. simon circled the open kitchen and living room until his eyes caught your silhouette balled up miserably on the couch, face buried as you grunted into the cushions.
you woke slowly, dazed and heavy limbed, the sudden fog clearing just enough for you to realize your afternoon nap had swallowed ten full hours of the day. your head twisted aside, body bolting up so violently that simon lunged forward, his instinct tearing. he hadn’t taken that cursed balaclava off yet, and it terrified you.
had you cornered against the armrest, wide eyed, blinking frantically at his shadow and then at his massive, exposed hand, your vision blurry, unable to see him properly through the dark, but his voice broke the paralysis.
“easy, luv. . it’s me, it’s simon, yau’re alright'” the low, gravelly rasp hit your ears and had you easing immediately, staring at his outstretched palm, open and waiting, and didn't run when his heavy stride closed the distance, hovering over your small frame. his other hand reached up, thick fingers hooking into the tattered hem at his throat to yank the fabric up and over his jaw, showing bit by bit his patchily stubbled, scarred jawline and crooked nose.
he’d barely dragged the mask over his outgrown, flattened hair before your hands flew out, sharp fingernails clawing into the fleece of his hoodie to haul his weight down to your level. he caught his balance with a surprised grunt, chunky arms hovering in mid air as the skull balaclava spilled onto the rug by his boots, your face already buried into his hot skin with a frantic, desperate haste.
simon didn't waste another second in wrapping his toned forearms around your waist, heavy body flopping onto the couch, pulling you securely over his wide lap. he didn't speak, simply burying his mouth and nose against your temple, dragging in a sharp, lung filling breath of you.
you stayed pinned to his chest, clawing at his torso, and then, in a rough, cracked whisper that you’d spent months trying to choke back, you let the truth slip “missed you” stammered around a confession that was supposed to remain blocked behind your pride, but it tore out anyway, a whine for help.
fingers tightening around you, blunt nails biting firmly into your waist, but you didn't mind the roughness, instead, your muscles went entirely slack, turning limp under his palms. as if you’d been suspended by taut ropes for weeks and he’d finally stepped in to cut the ties and catch your fall. his lips pressed into the soft skin of your ear, breath hot while murmuring “i’ve got' yau, witch, i’m her'”
he didn't tease you about how needy his sharp tongued, sassy girl had gotten in his absence, indeed, he’d been ready to grunt a wicked jest, a shift that usually would have had you pinching his chest and hissing at him, but had refrainied instead.
hearing you already snoring gently against his throat, feeling your wet, clumped lashes swoop over his skin as your eyes closed for real, slackened face tucked safely under his chin. he knew there were tears on your cheeks, but he’d let you sleep, having all the time in the world to clean up tomorrow.
𐔌 cw: age gap with reader mentioned to be student, casual sex to not so casual sex, panty stealing .ᐟ
simon didn't care about keeping his flat clean, not in the slightest. his neglect boiled down to two typical reasons, he either had no time due to being deployed, or when he finally did have it, he was far too exhausted to even lift a finger.
his sinewy muscles would go leaden with bone deep fatigue, a consequence of the constant, relentless lack of sleep that left bruised, lilac shadows carved beneath his eyes. the laundry basket was always piling high with unwashed sheets and sweat soaked gear, while the kitchen sink held a graveyard of dishes encrusted with dried ketchup and grease.
fridge remaining mostly empty, stocked with nothing but beer bootles and the protein yogurts he choked down to maintain his heavy muscle mass. a bottle of bourbon sat hidden in the wooden cupboard, his freezer hadn't seen a decent steak in years.
his routine was always the same, order some greasy takeout, wolf it down standing up, and call it breakfast, even if it was midnight, which was usually the exact hour his internal clock woke him closest to. afterward, he would opt for a quick, scalding shower and a few minutes of mindless masturbation, bony knuckles locked tight as his fist squeezed the heavy, blood flushed base of his cock.
if kyle hadn't told him that hiring a housekeeper was an option, having wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sheer chaos during a previous visit, simon probably would have never known such a service even existed, let alone that the internet was teeming with websites dedicated to it.
your profile had been remarkably simple, a straightforward list of what you could do, cleaning, laundry, shopping, and meal preparation. you had listed no demanding requirements, and for some inexplicable reason, your requested salary was incredibly low. it was an absolute dream, though he had been fully prepared to pay an inflated price just to have his squalor managed.
following a characteristically brief, dry exchange of messages on his part, he scheduled an evening meeting with you. not making the slightest effort to clean up before your arrival. when he threw the door open, his hair was a shaggy mess, a week's worth of patchy stubble shadowed his square jawline, and a pair of stained gray sweatpants hung low on his wide hips beneath a crumpled shirt that was entirely too tight for his massive form.
yet, you didn't even blink at the sight of the jagged scars marring his face, nor did you falter at his unkempt clothes. instead, you fixed your gaze strictly on the surrounding mess, doing so without a single grimace or frown, an unbothered composure that pulled a rare grin from his lips behind your back.
“what', no scream?” simon grunted, clearly amused now. he took a slow step closer, tracking the way your eyes flitted about, systematically scanning the wreckage of his living room and kitchen with the callous efficiency of a trained robot, only looking back at him when you let out a fickle, noncommittal hum.
“seen worse” you answered shortly, offering a small, indifferent shrug, craning your neck at an angle to look directly into his face, holding a steady, unblinking gaze with his honey speckled irises. the blackout curtains were parted just enough to let in the fading light, the amber sunbeams catching the edges of simon’s messy hair and bleeding into his eyes.
“yau look a bit' too yaung to hav' sein much” he remarked, and it was the truth, you looked far younger than him, and certainly younger than the hardened faces he was used to surrounding himself with. your expression didn't even flicker, holding his stare, maintaining a heavy, awkward silence that nearly made his skin crawl.
“i’m a witch” you finally grumbled, tone blunt and clipped in a lazy drawl as you quirked a single eyebrow upward. simon went dead silent, mirroring your stillness for a heartbeat, before he suddenly barked a loud, booming laugh, baring his crooked teeth in genuine entertainment, and the tension dissolved there.
you moved on to discuss the payment, admitting that he was right about your age, a student simply looking to earn what she could when your schedule permitted. when he offered a significantly higher rate than you had asked for, you declined politely, fixing him with a scowling glare that openly labeled him a creep. leaving your number in his phone, you agreed to return tomorrow, once again in the evening.
what simon had expected would take no less than a month to clean had been thoroughly tidied up in less than a week, every single corner scrubbed bare and dust cleared from places he hadn't even known existed. for the first few days, he had slept through most your shifts, knowing you were there and setting his alarm strictly for the hour you were about to leave.
every night he’d wake to a new miracle, finding you’d somehow hauled the heavy sofa across the floorboards to clean the dust bunnies beneath it, and had dusted behind the television without breaking a wrist or even a sweat. amused, he changed your contact name in his cracked phone to witch.
when you accidentally caught a glimpse of the screen one evening, you flashed him a smile so unexpectedly sweet that it nearly gave him a stroke, accustomed as he was to seeing you either plain faced or frowning in deep concentration over chores.
your cooking was something he would actively brag about to johnny and kyle, never in his life had he wanted to lick a plate clean, yet whatever you prepared whether roasted, baked, meat, fish, or soup he devoured it like a starved stray dog, licking his lips and declaring aloud “shit', nevuh tasted anything bettuh than this”
crucially, you never commented on the cum stains on the boxers he frequently dropped into the laundry basket when sorting out the clothes. nor did you find it strange when he abruptly altered his sleep schedule just to stay awake while you were cleaning.
watching you patiently from the couch, his long legs spread wide and his head cocked, while the television hummed with the very show you had earlier dismissed as utter shit out in the background.
“stay for dinnuh next' tim', my treat', i’ll do the cooking” simon offered one evening. it had been nearly a month since you started working for him, and because you stubbornly refused all his attempts to raise your salary, this was the only compromise his mind could conjure, at least a dinner, a chance to treat you to something fancy.
“since when do you cook?” you had asked, your voice far more amused than curious, openly teasing him considering you’d been the one fixing every bite he ate, down to the chalky protein shakes he needed for his workouts, possessing far too much culinary expertise for your age.
“i can handl' a stov'” he let out a gravelly huff, rolling his shoulders as he watched you tie your shoelaces, bent over with your pert ass curved beautifully in his direct line of sight. your clothes weren't revealing, just simple jeans pulled taut against the swell and stretchy shirt, yet his cock stirred in response, chubbing behind the sweats and boxers.
simon knew damn well you caught the outline the moment you spun around to accept the dinner invitation. actually lingering behind the following evening for a flawlessly seared steak draped in a rich bourbon garlic cream sauce, paired with crispy roasted potatoes.
you finished the plate, warmed up and satisfied with your belly full, and ended up straddling his fuzzy thighs right there on the sagging couch. hips rolled down onto his brawny lap, and his swelled girth thrust in brutal and deep, plunging itself within your tight, sappy cunt. walls convulsing around his bottoming base as he pistoned in, your jiggly ass smacking against his heavy balls.
“christ', even yauh cunt' the best'” his humid breath hit your face in a thoroughly ragged rasp, hooded eyes wandering, darting from your eyes, which had gone completely glassy, veiled in a thick fog of pleasure, to the way slick rolls in tacky rivulets in response to how he rams in. scarred hips angled to hit deeper, battering the lumpy spot that makes your thighs cramp and shake.
you were uninhibited and deliciously loud, answering his heavy rhythm with nothing but breathless, sharp moans and high pitched whines as you rode him completely dry, tight walls contracting in a vice like grip around his veined girth, spilling an abundant, glossy slick that churned into froth.
this wasn't his first lay in weeks, but you were driving him entirely out of his mind, leaving him so dazed and overwhelmed that his vision blurred and his umber eyes nearly crossed. broad paw clamped flat against your hip, dimpling the supple skin as he kept your weight down, his fingers toying idly with the waistband of the panties you hadn't even bothered to take off.
he didn't tighten his grip to hurt, but his blunt fingernails still bit hard into your curves, branding your flesh with stinging raw indents. he slams in, and you leak out, strings of arousal stretching in glimmery strings, matting coarse pubes that rub across your pulsing clit, making your body seize taut, squealing “a—ahn, s—simon!”
heavy lidded eyes grew long since glassy with desire, even further as he nuzzled in to press his mouth hungrily against your sternum. peppering a path of biting kisses outward until his mouth was filled with the lush, bouncing swell of your breast, tongue swirling in demanding, drooling circles around your pebbled nipple.
simon cums quick, you don't know about that, but he acknowledges that his peak comes much more earlier than he's used to, heat pooling within his bulging veins and spreading mercilessly, rapture hot pressure gathering at the rise of his spine and traveling, your own tummy threatening to snap with feverish coil.
heat clenching sporadically around him, encouraging on, and he follows, jerking when your cunt wraps tight and spasms, creaming his length while his balls twitch. thick cum plugging you deep, the excess a creamy, frothing mess that coats your thighs in pearlescent dews alongside lacquering slick.
he let's out guttive groan, words ripping raw from his chest “that''s it — feiling so good, lovi', fucking best'” large hands had long since moved from the slope of your hips, roughened fingers now buried deep, kneading the round, plump curve of your ass, gripping to hold you flush to his pelvis while he floods your satiating hole, nicked lips pressed softly against your sweaty temple.
you shuddered on his lap, slumped heavily against sturdy chest, sore yet adorably content, huddling closer as hushed, exhausted whimpers slipped past your teeth. hiding your sweltering face beneath the rough scruff of his jawline, breath ghosting uneven against his blotchy skin, and he wished with all his horny heart that this could happen every damn day.
nothing changed outwardly when you left, just a polite goodbye and a brief, muttered “until sunday, yeah?” tossed between you in the hallway, a flat, unimpressed frown marring your face when you noticed your soiled panties stuffed casually into his pocket, despite his earlier claim that they had simply been ripped during the frenzy.
simon spent his weekends as usually, sleeping, eating the meals you had so lovingly prepared and packed for him, working out, and then fisting his leaky cock while single mindedly sniffing your stolen underwear, over and over again, until you finally returned on sunday.
both acting as usual, showing no avoidance and no lingering tension, but somehow you ended up with his weathered face buried right against your gooey cunt, bent over the kitchen counter while your fingers still gripped a microfiber cloth, now knuckling it. he knelt down behind you, calloused hands spreading your asscheeks to hold you open to his eager tongue.
by the time he let you up, you left his flat on wobbly legs, far later than you ever should have, the skin of your inner thighs raw and chafed from the relentless scrape of his rough stubble, making your muscles clench with ache. behind your back, simon had already pulled out his phone, display lit up and mirroring his toothy grin, thick thumb swiping to change your contact name once more, my witch.
18+
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f! reader, PIV sex, unprotected sex, rough sex
🌽 links!!!! I repeat,🌽 links!!!! - So this and this just s(creams) Simon Riley to me.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
Being with Simon meant spending a good chunk of your day off your feet. Towering above you, he liked to close the distance by gathering you in his thick arms, easily lifting you up so your lips could meet.
He spoiled you with his strength often. He'd hoist you over his shoulder with the same ease it took him to blink, his broad palm playfully coming down on ass as you squeal and kick your feet in delight.
When he feels like he ought to treat you a little sweeter you find yourself being scooped up gently bridal style, carrying you around like the most precious cargo. Like you're nothing more than a petal in the wind.
Every concert you talked him in to, you knew you'd be getting the best spot in the crowd. Always reserved for you would be a place on his shoulders, holding you up so securely to give you a better view.
And hiking together meant the trip back down would be spent piggybacking on Simon at his insistence to keep your sore feet from getting worse.
At any moment you could be whisked up and held dearly, never having to worry if it was too much for him to handle. The hulk that he is, he could lift five of you at once if he pleased.
Yeah. He'd love that.
But what felt best was one he'd pick you up...not so dearly.
"Sssimon OHMYGOD", you screeched when your feet leave the ground so swiftly, his arms locked around your naked middle and his chin digging into the space where your shoulder meets your neck.
"That's better. Can fuck this sweet cunt like she needs now."
You're astounded by the way he does it so causally, both of you completely nude and your feet dangling uselessly as his cock ruts into you with riveting force. "Jeeeesus fucking CHRIST, S-simon what- what are you doing to me?", you keen and gasp, the tops of his thick, pulsing thighs smacking into the back of your soft quivering thighs.
All you have to anchor yourself are his arms and his cock, the latter pounding into you so quickly and deep you swear you can feel his ruddy tip poking your bellybutton from the inside.
Your nails sink into his forearms though neither of you really notice it, the sensations he's forcing on you wracking your poor tingling body. Simon's thrusting remains brute, hips snapping into your body while you remain suspended, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth.
I’m thinking about nanami who has a not so secret crush professional interest in gojo’s wife (fem!reader). nsfw 18+ drabble. mlist
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On Nanami’s birthday he enjoys the celebration and praise from everyone, but there’s one little thing nagging at the back of his mind through all the cakes and badly wrapped tie pins. He doesn’t say anything, but your presence is pointedly missing, and that tiny fact is enough to dampen his spirits despite the jovial atmosphere. He’s a little grumpy by the end of the day as a result, more so by the way Gojo seems to be hell bent on clinging to him. After one too maybe bear hugs he finally makes a remark, a snide little comment about how he much prefers Gojo’s “other half”. Gojo just grins that same shit-eating grin as usual, but his grip on Nanami’s shoulder is tight when he chirps in reply “let’s go see her then, right now!”.
Nanami barely has the chance to open his mouth before he’s engulfed in a sizzle of energy. Gojo’s hand still firmly clasped over his shoulder, he finds himself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom, and when his vision finally focuses he chokes at the sight that greets him. It’s you, blindfolded, splayed over crisp white sheets and wrapped up like a gift. Each bare limb is glittering, bound expertly in an intricate banding of yellow ribbon - his favourite colour. He hadn’t had a favourite colour before, not until he’d seen you waltz in one morning donning a yellow sundress, looking like a beam of sunlight personified. He sees you in the daisies that pepper the footpath, the warmth of a summer day, the sand beneath his feet on the beachside, and now in the restraints lacing each of your oiled limbs like a bow atop a gift he’s been pining after for years - and it’s all just too much.
He’s speechless, unable to even lift a finger to argue when Gojo guides him into a chair directly across from where you’re perched on the bed, giving him a stellar view of just how far gone you already are. Nanami is dizzy, tenfold when his eyes roam down and he notices the little red light blinking between your spread thighs, tucked beneath a pair of pale blue panties already soaked through and glistening a little with the vibration.
Gojo’s smile has settled into a sharp line, and his voice is low and cutting when he leans down to purr into Nanami’s ear, his hands massaging either tense shoulder. “You wanted to fuck my wife, right? Well take it all in Nanamin, this is the closest you’re ever gonna get.”
You're on your knees in front of Nanami Kento, thighs spread wide, still in those khaki dress pants that are shoved down just enough to have his thick, girthy cock out. Nanami lets out a quiet little hum when you lick his reddened tip, catching the white pre that's swirling around the ridge of his cockhead.
Nanami sips on his whiskey as your mouth opens, teasing at first, leaned back in the leather recliner, in an immaculate penthouse devoid of anything but muted gray furniture, barely lived in. All Nanami does is work, and he fucking hates it, but he wants to retire early - and get the occasional blow job from you.
A cute little barista who loves to suck his cock anytime he calls, it's not very often that he does, maybe once every week or so. You always come all pretty as if he'd take you out, just to end up with your throat full of his cum.
Sometimes he bent you over the arm of the couch, fucking your soaking wet cunt and gripping your hair until it hurt, just to finish all over your back. He'd clean you up before he offered a drink, it was sort of his ritual.
Cum, offer a drink, and politely walk you to his door.
Once, he actually kissed you, but it was more he bit your lower lip, tasting his own cum and humming a bit. He would at least slide a finger in your messy cunt before he slammed his cock in. He bent down and you thought he'd eat you out, but he merely pressed a little kiss on it, before breaking you in half on him.
You treasured those few little moments where he showed you any affection, thinking of it now has you dripping wet, whining out and looking to him for permission. His hazel eyes are lidded, staring at you with whiskey on his lips. "Go ahead, touch yourself, as long as you can take me down your slutty throat."
You should feel degraded, but you live for when he tugs your hair, jerking his hips so his tip drags on your uvula. You're choking on it, he moans ever so softly when you swallow around him convulsively. "Mnh!"
"Can't you take all of it?" He taunts then, hand tightening in your hair, sitting his whiskey down on a coaster with a quiet click, his other hand reaching around to the back of your head. "Choke on it, slutty throat wants it, yeah? Isn't this what you want, my cum in your stomach? Greedy little whore."
You swallow reflexively, slurping him up and toying with your clit, he doesn't care about you, but you still obediently take him down, praying he'll give you some praise. When he does it's faint, but you devour it, cling to it, eyes locking up as your throat burns from him, nose pressed in the nestle of blond hair.
"F-fuck, so you can take it," he presses your head down harder, his head falling back, giving you a view of that adam's apple bobbing, you're slobbering all over him, whining out desperately. "Swallow it like that and I'll touch your messy cunt, huh? You can do it, dirty little whore that you are. Just like that."
You're so good for him, if Nanami cared about anything but money, maybe he'd ask you out, if he ever wanted a partner. You're sweet, you're pretty, your throat is thirsty and so fucking tight, he fucks more of his sticky hot load in your mouth, your throat, pumping and moaning.
"You like me using you, love being just a hole for me to cum inside? Don't you darling?" You're whining out, clamping down around your fingers as you swallow, thighs shaking. "Open and let me see if you deserve it."
You do exactly as he says, pulling back with a messy pop, lips swollen, opening your mouth for him to lean over, cupping your face, one could almost mistake it for affection. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, prying it further open and leaning forward. He spits a filthy string of Saliva that you eagerly swallow, fingers pausing their circles on your clit.
"Come here," you eagerly stand. "Turn around and bend over."
You arch your pretty ass for him, he shoves your skirt up your hips, exhaling as he sees you, his cock is still hard and leaking more. He slides two thick fingers down your slit, pressing both in.
"Hands on the table," you eagerly obey, cunt gripping him tightly as he rocks his fingers in your hole, he's not given you much, he just takes, and takes, and takes. But Nanami can't help but wonder if you squirt, it's made him sadistically curious, maybe he was bored, maybe your cunt is pretty.
"Nanami," the first word you've said, voice hoarse from his throat, his cock twitches at the sound.
"Can't talk, can you?" You nod and your hand moves, earning his firm smack on your hip. "Hands on, what did I say?"
You're clenching him so tight he almost says fuck it and sticks his cock in, he's tired and has work tomorrow, but your sounds are fucking him up. "Ngh!"
"Loud, needy whore," he laughs, fingers up and down over and over, the noises clicking and echoing in his empty penthouse, bouncing off the walls when he hits a spot with precision and you do - you squirt all over his fingers, screaming out and collapsing forward, gripping that table tightly. "Mmm, making a mess on my floors, huh? Should make you lick that up. You probably would."
You're gasping out, you cum when Nanami fucks you but it's not like he ever tries, it's all for him, you get off because he's thick, because he hits your cervix. He slips his fingers out with a squelch, you're wobbly as you lean up, suddenly empty, turning to see his lips wrap around his digits. Your throat goes dry when he sucks you off them, humming softly, tongue lapping at the strings of gossamer.
He swipes the rest along your lips, you eagerly suck, wondering for an insane moment if he'd kiss you, when he laps your slick off his lips, humming, before he steps back, slipping his slacks up. "Want a drink before you leave?"
"Oh," you swallow nervously, he swipes the rest of your slick on his slacks, raising a brow. "Sure."
You taste the whiskey on your lips as you take the ride he ordered you home, but you could swear you felt his gaze on you when you stepped out, a little slip of a curtain. You'll see him for his same order on Monday, but you don't know a thing about him. In the back of the car tears hit, shaky hands texting him a hasty good night.
Nanami sips his third drink for the night, slipping off his shirt and looking at your message, before swiping it away, your taste lingering on his lips. It's sweet, he'll give you that. But he doesn't bother to respond, he has work, after all.
*****
Mhm I'm here with my period starting, ready to hurt you all. Also I think this is canon Nanami, ngl lol, come for me if you want hehe
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