#Wondering if he's going to get shit from his husband about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nezuscribe · 1 year

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything.

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights.

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to.

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore.

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you.

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back.

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three.

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed.

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything.

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up.

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you.

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans.

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him.

not that it mattered now.

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip.

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry.

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away.

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else.

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left.

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer.

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up.

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity.

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from.

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples.

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged.

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies.

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle.

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak.

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife.

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long.

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say.

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you.

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it.

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features.

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show.

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk).

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.”

the truth.

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up.

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were.

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms.

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms.

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position.

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.”

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind.

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy.

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him.

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position.

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door.

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway.

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself.

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected.

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered.

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury.

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.”

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside.

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating.

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen.

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate.

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such?

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you.

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement.

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away.

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking.

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless.

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite.

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic.

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.”

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind.

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly.

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this.

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it.

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you.

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around.

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile.

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response.

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!”

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.”

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch.

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other.

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh.

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you.

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature.

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded.

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance.

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl.

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions.

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls.

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat.

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you.

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him.

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress.

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down.

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead.

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other.

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo.

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased.

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation.

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.”

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either.

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables.

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words.

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.”

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it.

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck.

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you.

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so.

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him.

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door.

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else.

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door.

you didn’t answer, still, waiting.

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door.

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit.

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table.

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing.

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day.

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy.

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time.

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned.

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down.

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet.

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you.

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis.

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders.

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing.

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window.

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw.

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance.

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her.

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had.

“are you alright?”

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being.

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either.

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly.

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you.

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.”

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you.

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.”

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable.

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three.

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure.

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back.

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man.

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint.

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks.

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.”

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self.

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you.

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint.

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw.

“what do you mean?”

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin.

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?”

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form.

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing.

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.”

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement.

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks.

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.”

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words.

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you.

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations.

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face, twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-”

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull.

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-”

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.”

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones.

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago.

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.”

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it.

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face.

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself.

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.”

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters.

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided.

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours.

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined.

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love.

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness.

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you.

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder.

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again.

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin.

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name.

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could.

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them.

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did.

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one.

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago.

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it.

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips.

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move.

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give.

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds.

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin.

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face.

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him.

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down.

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this.

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you.

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most.

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.”

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye.

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck.

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be.

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall.

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response.

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more.

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more.

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit.

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision.

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo.

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over.

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces.

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest.

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you.

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.”

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you.

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that.

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?”

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face.

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs.

“and then?”

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.”

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking.

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain.

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves.

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader fluff #gojou x reader

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oceantornadoo · 7 months

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protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley wife #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts #ex husband ghost #fluff

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inkskinned · 4 months

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how odd, to watch the creative writing exercises of angry men in the comments of instagram. you noticed it first in the comments of conventionally attractive women - but then it started appearing everywhere else, too.

a young man talks about what lunch he's packing his wife. there is a little story under it, with 300 likes, fabricated from nothing. "this is pointless. if you treat her like this, she will take the lunch to her office and fuck her boss and divorce him and take all his money."

you scroll. a young woman talks about what lunch she's packing for her husband. it is always uglier when the subject of the video is a woman, you've noticed. "you sit on camera and you smile and you are cheating with the neighbor and then you're going to lie about being sexually assaulted by your husband and -"

you stop reading. it has 567 likes.

where did this even become a thing? people making up stories in their head, disgusting long-winded assumptions about intention and sexual disgrace. the evil twin of fanfiction.

like - it's just a lie. it's a lie that they are telling, baldfaced and assumptive. the undercurrent is of course misogyny, but the trouble is that they're so fucking certain. that's what makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. there is this pervasive, inventive desire for them to be right. that they must be right. all women are cheating, lying, gold-digging bitches. no exceptions.

in the reverse, when women say i'd rather meet a bear in the woods than a strange man - men funnel in from the sides. they defend each other with a vibrance and capacity for empathy you wish applied to like, the other half of the population. a man could be saying i absolutely did kill her and these creatures in the comments would rise up with king shit. she made it happen. they love each other to the point of this sick strange self-gaslighting, a fervent and unhinged cognitive distortion. all men are good, wonderful people. all women are terrible, conniving, seditious, annoying.

and when did it become okay to just, like... say that kind of a thing? at one point, you find yourself typing out a witty and snappy retort. why are you spending so much time fantasizing about other people babe. but as you stare at the screen, some part of you pictures this man in public, saying these things to your face. his soapbox, high and mighty. his mirrored sunglasses and his empty life: tired and lonely.

what a sad and horrible loop he's locked in. he is terrible to women, so women don't talk to him, which he uses as an excuse to act more terribly. he blames this "failure" on women, rather than on his behavior. it cannot be that he is the problem (that the solution is to just put his ego down and accept women as equals) - he begins to invent a sculpture to replace the flesh frame of each person he sees.

it isn't just a woman posing on the beach. it is now a slut with a desperate need for each person to crave her body. it isn't just a woman yelping with surprise during something upsetting. it is a hysterical, unhelpful cretin who will probably make things worse instead of better. it isn't a person.

someone's very sweet wedding vows get moderate attention on instagram. in the comments, a man says good fucking luck you'll waste your life providing while behind your back she's absolutely fucking the best man. this will be so cringe in 2 months when she walks out on you.

you think - is that what you need to be true? is that what you need to happen, for the world to make sense to you?

#writeblr #every time i see these little creative writing projects i see red lol #girl go write a novel or do ur homework or something.#if youre gonna lie on the internet at least stop badgering women. do it in the privacy #of your poor sad reddit boards

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downbadf0rficppl · 8 months

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pink in the night

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!

AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3

Repost

Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.

On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.

This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.

You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.

He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.

He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.

Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.

Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.

You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.

Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.

You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.

You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.

Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.

Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.

Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.

It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.

Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.

The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.

He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.

"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'

As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.

"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.

"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."

He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.

"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.

"No point."

Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."

"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."

Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.

Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.

The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.

He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.

"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.

"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.

"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."

Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.

He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.

He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.

When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.

He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.

"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.

You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."

He was gone by the time you turned around.

The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.

"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"

"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"

"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."

"He can't even masturbate you know?"

The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.

No, that blame could only lie with you.

When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.

You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.

You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.

" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."

"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."

"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"

"Yeah, man, really sucks."

Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.

You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.

Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.

He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.

"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.

You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.

Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."

"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"

"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.

Bucky didn't miss that either.

He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.

"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.

"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.

He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.

"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.

He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.

He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.

"Off."

You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.

His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."

Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.

"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.

"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.

"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.

You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.

He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.

He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."

He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.

"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."

"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.

"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.

Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.

Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.

He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.

"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.

Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.

He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.

He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.

Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.

You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.

Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.

"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.

The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"

He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"

You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."

You stifled a laugh.

"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."

You looked at him confused, "Why not?"

"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."

You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.

"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.

He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.

He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you I love you I love you.

fin.

buy me a coffee

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bukcy barnes #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut

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kekewrites · 18 days

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Tw. Bimbo reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, corruption kink, coercion, creampie, size kink, magic sex toy/onahole/fleshlight, loss of virginity, not proof read

***

Thinking about being a childhood friend of a yandere duo.

You were just so friendly and cute, approaching them with candies in your tiny hands and offering it to them. So kind as you always play with them, and sometimes they would argue who'd be your husband when playing house. They often fought whenever they wanted to play with you but in the end, it always results to sharing you.

Middle school was a little different than Kindergarten. They get more protective when boys try to get close to you, painting them as insufferable brats that only want clout. Being neighbors with the wealthy kids, got you too much attention much to their liking, often getting bullied whenever you finally have some alone time, but this didn't get unnoticed as you wonder why that kid who pushed you on your locker, suddenly have bandage wrapped around his head and his reputation down.

Highschool is where the shift started. You wanted to explore more, finding new friends, and hanging out with other people, and they did not like that. You were just too dumb, they said. Too dumb to realize people manipulating you so that they can get close to them. Do you even realize that the girl from your class only talks to you about them? Dumb girl.

Safe to say, you never had a genuine friend in high school, not like you even had chance to form a deep level of friendship (by people who genuinely wanna be friends with you) by the way they hog all your attention and time.

College is where it gets difficult for them to spend time with you. Different schedules, classes, course. They even insisted you go to the same university as them. It's frustrating how little time you spend together, always with your stupid excuse of "working on an assignment".

Without you around, they definitely have a hard time relieving some tension. They couldn't just walt into your room and steal some panties scoot free without getting into trouble, even though they were star students and had plenty influence over the school. No, no, they won't put their reputation to ruin, they're your perfect best friends.

Despite them being a duo, they were quite different in terms of personality. One is patient and mature, thinking logical and more on the rational side. While the other is playful, outgoing and rash. Both have their charms that got everyone around their fingers. However, they wouldn't sleep with just anyone, no. It's hard to get their dick hard, always imagining your cute face whenever they try to fuck a desperate bitch to finally release some tension.

But your impatient friend had enough of some random girl, high pitch moans that's not yours annoying his ears. It's miserable to even hump his own hand, so hard and cold, different to what he imagine your tight warm cunt to be. This just won't cut it. He needs more, to finally feel your wet insides without you knowing.

So what's a good way to relieve tension?

Some good ol' fleshlight.

The moment it arrived at his doorstep, he straight up bolted to his door. Slamming the door close as he finally gets his hands on the toy after days of waiting. Fuck, he can't wait to use this thing.

It's like the half body sex toy he used to watch in porns. He was quite impressed by the details it had, he gotta give props for that, but that's not what he's after for. After reading the instructions, more like skimming and skipping most of the words. He use lubricant, using plenty of it and spreading it around the artificial pussy lips. Rubbing and feeling the flaps, like how he usually does. It's kinda weird that he's doing this for a toy, but he could just imagine it being your cunt, practicing his moves. After a few moments did he slide his thick finger inside the walls of the toy... How weird, the texture was oddly real, like it was alive. Well, that's probably some mechanic shit that the factory put there or something. This is his first time using a fleshlight and it cost a fortune through some sketchy website so it better be worth it.

***

You jolted in your sit in class, listening to your professor's discussion about physics until you suddenly feel something brushing on your thighs. Your head panning around the room before looking ahead, brushing it off. It was probably the wind.

You yelp when something began rubbing your cunt, earning a few concern looks for you and your professor glancing at you before going back to his discussion. You shrink in your sit, head hanging low as you pressed your lips together. Confused and scared by the phantom touch assaulting your nether region. Clutching your skirt, you try to maintain confused whimpers as the touches didn't stop.

You're scared.

The moment something pushed inside you, you stand up and excuse yourself, running to the nearest restroom. Your feet quick as you open a random stall and sit on the toilet. Your breathing heavy as you shakily lifts your skirt, looking at the wet patch on your panty.

What's happening? Why are you wet? How can something touching you there? You're not imagining this, right?

Your mind raced as you become more terrified. Is a ghost haunting you? Tears pool on your eyes, sniffling as the assault become more aggressive.

***

Fuck, this fleshlight was the best thing he ever bought. How was this even made? Whatever. He continues to pump his thick finger, inserting another one and he jump a bit as he felt the walls suck on his fingers. Damn, it can even do that? Just how realistic can this toy be? He's not complaining though.

He decided to touch the clit earning another tight squeeze. What a sensitive toy. He continues to play, eventually adding another finger. It was weird how the warm walls didn't run out of lube, if this were any normal toy it'd need to be lubricated after few minutes but this toy seems to produce it on its on.

He pulls out his fingers as he inspects the inside, it's undeniable that it's fake but the way it pulsates around nothing makes it a bit questionable on how it works.

Would your cunt also look like that? He could imagine your wrecked heaving face after fingering you. Poor little you never had something inside, let alone this thick fingers. He couldn't wait for the moment he'll ruin you.

***

You're straight up crying as an additional thick sensation pumped your insides. Squeezing your thighs shut, like it's gonna do something to stop the phantom. Everything inside you screams to remove the intrusion but you didn't know how. Opening your legs slightly, your shaky fingers removing your panty to see what's happening inside your cunt... but nothing was there. Only a gape.

Your fingers shifts towards the gape, gasping as the invincible touch was able to touch you yet you couldn't even see or feel it. Squirming uncomfortably, as you open your legs more to try and get "it" out with your fingers. Uselessly grabbing air, whimpering and sobbing as you fail to interrupt with its continuous pumping. Your stomach twisting and an unfamiliar coil was starting to unravel, your breath hitching and legs shaking.

But it's abruptly stop as the phantom pulled away.

Finally, relief and a little bit of disappointment fills your chest. Slumping on the toilet, panting like you run a marathon. You shift a bit as you sit upright, freezing as something thick pokes your entrance.

No way...

Your brain panics, your gaze staring at the way your hole widens and your legs subconsciously spreading more to prepare yourself for the inevitable. You clutch the wall of the stall, each hand gripping the surface. Tears streaming down your face and your cheeks getting hot.

This can't be happening.

You felt the thick thing stretch you open.

***

Something about fucking a fleshlight should embarrass him. But nah, with you in his mind there's nothing to be ashamed. This is just practice to him after all, he'll do this things eventually.

With his heavy cock around his fingers, he taps the opening of the fleshlight. His other hand grips the hip. Rubbing along the slit, he collects lube running on the head of his cock, catching the clit in the process. He lets out a breath, as he finally starts pushing his cock inside.

He's quite big, so he's a bit worried if he'll fit in some shady toy but he's sure he'll fit in you just right, even if he had to force himself in your tiny cunt.

But there's no need for consideration when it comes to a toy.

He sheath inside in one thrust.

Hissing at the way the walls clings to him, tightly wrapping around his cock and pulsating as if rejecting a foreign object. Shit, why does it feel like a virgin?

Warm, wet, and tight. The perfect toy pussy for him, this could even rival a real pussy if he were being honest. No time for adjusting as he starts to thrust. Pounding the onahole, roughly gripping the hips and fucking hard. Shit shit shit why does this feel so good? This stupid toy feels a whole lot better compare to a random slut.

His hips going hard and the way he feels the inside pulsating, sucking all his worth making him groan. Such a tight fake cunt.

He wonder if he can break the toy.

***

With a silent scream, your head jerk up as the big stretch was too sudden for your body to take. Legs wide open as you try to create space for the large object. You sob as quiet as possible, as the phantom starts pounding hard at your sensitive cunt. You want to scream but held back, tears blurring your vision as you pray for it to end.

Whimpering and sobbing was the only thing you can do. Waiting for the thrusting to stop, you teeth bite your lip to stop noise from escaping. It doesn't sound like you at all, it's weird, you're scared and confused.

Your mind tries to think of a distraction, to think of anything but the mysterious assault. How is this even happening? What did you do to deserve this? Why you?

Your breath hitched as you feel the tight coil in your stomach again. Moaning a little as you feel pleasure rising though you. Your hands clasp over your mouth, muffling your noise. You shake your head as the coil gets tighter and tighter, your legs shaking as you stutter words of apology to whoever's doing this.

And it snaps.

Your vision going white, body stiffening and eyes going into the back of your head.

Ah. You never felt this... good before.

It takes you a few minutes to recover. Your limbs feel like jelly, your chest rising up and down in a slow manner, and you greedily gulp air.

You were tired and exhausted but you were glad the assault has stop after that. You groggily starts to lift you panty's up however you felt something dripping down your hole.

... you wonder what it was.

***

After that day, the mysterious phantom would touch you at random times, when you're showering, classes, or even in bed late at night. It was torturous, you were becoming paranoid and it didn't go unnoticed by one of your best friend.

He's helping you study in the library as you'd ask him for his guidance in physics. You would've asked your other friend, but you can just imagine him play with your hair or something along of not really helping you study.

You're breathe hitch as you feel the phantom ghost rubbing your cunt. Shrinking on your sit, uncomfortably rubbing your legs.

"Something bothering you?" He ask, looking a bit concern of your shiftiness.

"O-oh, it's nothing. Just a little tired lately," You reassured, smiling as you pretend to be fine.

His sharp gaze examined your face before dropping the subject, deciding to just help you study.

"If you need something to talk to. I'm right here, ok?"

You smiled forcefully, "I-I will... Thank you."

***

You could never bring yourself to tell someone about it. No one would ever believe you.

You're laying in bed waiting for the phantom, already memorizing the way it'll touch you. You brace for the touch as you can't help but feel helpless. Are you going to live like this your entire life? You don't want to...

But would someone be willing to listen to you? To believe you? You don't wanna bother your best friend, you knew how busy he's gotten the recent days and you're doubtful that he'll even listen to your story when he's the rational one. That means...

Your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion as you clutch your pillow and close your eyes. You're panting as the phantom starts its routine.

You're scared... You're scared that it's starting to feel good.

No. You don't want to be alone anymore on this.

You need help. Badly.

You shakily gets up from bed, putting some jacket on as you heads towards someone who can help you... At least you believe who will do.

***

"Oh? What's my little darling doing here at this late of night?" He grins as he opened the door with the sight of you.

You fidget with your jacket as you feel small under his gaze, "P-Please help me."

He raised his eyebrow, his grin replacing with a thin line. Yeah, he's playful but he'll never joke around when you're having a problem, "Come inside, we'll talk there, sweetie."

Sitting on his couch, you took a deep breath as you prepare to tell someone about this problem of yours. He won't make fun of you right? He won't be weirded out, right? He's a reliable person and your best friend.

He sits beside you, a serious and concerned expression on his face. It was rare to see him like this, which encourage you to finally tell him.

By the end, you were crying and hiccuping in your hands about the experiences you encounter with that phantom. Feeling his hand rub your back, cooing at you in comfort. He pulls your head to rest on his chest, telling you that everything's going to be fine.

You sob out a thank you, finding relief to finally get it out of your chest.

Unbeknownst to you, the man was smiling.

***

He didn't know if God was on his side. But, he didn't expect this would happen.

Who would've thought that the toy he was playing with was connected with cute lil you?

He didn't believe it at first but the way you described the timing was too much of a coincidence. Sweet little thing, don't worry you won't experience any scary thing from now on.

"Sweetie, do you want me to chase that scary invisible phantom away?" He cups your cheeks in his hands, locking gaze with you.

You sniffle before nodding, "Y-Yes, please..."

He gave you a toothy smile before gently pushing you down on his couch. His fingers swiping away your tears, "Listen to me, ok? I need you to trust me on this." His nose touching with yours as he leans close.

"O-ok... I trust you."

Dumb little girl.

You shouldn't have said that.

Now you've sealed your fate.

***

He wonders what was going on with you back when he helped you study in the library. Something was very off about you, and you were clearly uncomfortable to brought it up.

He thinks of you very often even when he's busy and swarmed with school works. Sometimes, getting frustrated to even continue and wants to just go to your place. He massages his aching temple, resting on his chair before a box caught his attention.

Oh yeah, that stupid guy gave him that a few weeks ago.

He recalls their conversation about it, saying that it'll help him release some stress. Well, he's plenty stressed now so why don't he test it out now?

He saunters to the box, sitting on the floor to unravel it. Only to be surprised by the object inside it.

An onahole...

If he was his usual self he would've flung this across the room and throw it to the garbage bin. But sometimes he needs to be relieve as well, plus he's a man too,

He's not that picky too.

This'll do for him.

A temporary replacement while thinking of your cunt.

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yaymiyas · 1 month

Text

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere oc #yandere crown prince #yandere isekai crown prince #yandere anime #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader

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toji-sweetheart · 1 month

Text

18+ only content - mdni

tags: pregnant! fem reader + pregnancy sex + car sex + repost

Summer months always brought out one of Toji's favorite things.

Sundresses.

He's pretty sure that's how you ended up pregnant.

You were settled in bed going through your boxes of clothes trying to figure out what you wanted and what to give away when Toji shuffled in ready to lay on the mattress until he caught sight of the dress.

It was one he'd seen before.

How amazing it looked on you, the way your breasts all but spilled over the top, and if you had to bend over? His eyes were glued to your ass so were his hands that grabbed a palmful of cheeks.

You always enjoyed the attention and how your husband still flirted with you like he was chasing you for the first time. It was a wonder you didn't get pregnant on the first date you both had.

Now years later you were attempting to slip on that same dress with a swollen belly that only added to the layer of attraction Toji felt for you and it didn't matter how you felt about it either, to him you were the sexiest and most beautiful woman out there.

While he wasn't a poet, he still had a way of making you feel sexy even when you felt like a cow, leaking breasts, a stomach round and protruding making the sundress a lot shorter than what it was.

"Ugh! Are you kidding me!?" You growled in frustration trying your best to yank the fabric of your ass over and over as you stood in front of the mirror getting ready for a day out with Toji to do some shopping for your daughter, some more clothes and diapers.

You had no idea that your husband had come back home earlier from a shift he picked up, any of them he could get he did to help pay for the expenses especially your cravings that seem to come at 2 am.

When you had stomped down the steps still in the sundress that barely covered your ass to look for your shoes, Toji followed you like a dog after a bone, his hands coming down to swat at your ass softly.

"Damn. You goin' out like that? I'll have to pluck eyeballs out." He mumbled, his eyes glued to the way the fabric swished and when you tried to bend over only for him to see your pussylips he lost it.

You rolled your eyes and huffed attempting to reach for your shoes before Toji swiped them up and pointed to the couch. "I have nothing that fits anymore! I'm a fat cow!" You whined and pouted sitting down as he helped you and crouched down to put your shoes on for you.

"You're growin' a human being in you, you're not fat, you're knocked up with my baby giving her life. Stop sayin' that shit." His words were a little crass but they made you smile as he looked at you warmly.

His look never failed to give you butterflies, nor did his touch.

However, after the seven months you've been pregnant he's been able to pick up on your moods and right now wasn't the best time to get his dick wet, all he had to do was wait for the right time.

Ever since you found out you were having his baby your sense of smell has been heightened making everything much more sensitive so when Toji sprayed your favorite cologne on him before leaving you were all over him nuzzling your face into his shirt and back.

"What do you think about this? She'll be here in the cold-" Toji was interrupted when you slid your hands under his shirt right in the middle of the clothing aisle not caring if anyone saw.

You weren't blind.

Your husband is a very good-looking man so it was natural that women would stare and ogle him, nudging their friends to see the tall and dark and handsome man with his very pregnant wife.

Green eyes looked at you with amusement and he knew that your pussy was throbbing, swollen, and sensitive as all your blood rushed to between your legs. "Toji." You tugged on his shirt with a pout.

That's all it took for you to end up cowgirl style sitting on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you while you both sat in the backseat of the car that he barely had time to move in the way back of the parking lot making sure you wouldn't get caught having sex in the middle of the day, no one could see you both.

"So needy for dick and you wonder how you ended up pregnant." He teased burying his face between your tits as he helped you ride him, the exertion didn't take much with all the pressure on your internal organs and your lungs didn't feel like they fully inflate, and with your daughter using your bladder as a trampoline you tired easily.

Your fingers that stayed buried in his hair tugged on the dark locks when he hit a certain spot that had you squealing his name while clawing at his shoulders, your movements went from bouncing to grinding your clit on his pelvic bone moaning and whimpering.

Toji knew that he wanted to keep you nice and pregnant if this was how you acted.

#✍🏻minx writes #tw: pregnancy #toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #toji x you smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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satoruhour · 9 months

Text

AY ! SPANK IT.

a/n: had to physically hold myself back from not doing any lore. i failed (for gojo’s at least). enjoy / tagging my babies @redskyvenus @suguella @satorena @screampied @jabamin @marimogf @osaemu @ryovie

wc: 3.5k

warnings: sp*nking for all (i cheated on gojo’s part but we don’t talk bout that), fem!reader, gojo is older than in the series (late 30s), semi-public oral (m! receiving), deep throating, he’s a little rough, a stranger listens in (gojo), implied multiple rounds, unprotected p -> v sex, (geto), implied multiple rounds, fingering, clit stimulation, pussy slaps, unprotected p -> v sex (nanami), you ask soft dom!toji to be rougher, implied multiple rounds, face slapping, unprotected p -> v sex (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

your mind’s racing. that’s the only thing you can focus on, and maybe also the fact that gojo looks absolutely dashing in the suit he bought, taking you out for a whole day of shopping just because he can, so you got yourself a dress that goes all the way to the floor while he had another suit to add to the collection. it was so terrible, too, because you’re at utahime’s wedding dinner and all you can think about is getting to your knees to suck him off.

“need somethin’?” gojo whispers with hand clasped over yours, voice softer than usual. he’s grown much into his age, now well into his late 30s and you have to physically hold yourself back every waking hour. his way of living is a tad bit softer and tender when it comes to you.

you swallow, “i might ruin the mood.”

gojo laughs and it’s got your cunt throbbing, “nothing you say could ruin the mood, baby.”

sparing a glance towards utahime and her wife, you feel a little bad that you’re going to do what you’re going to do, but it’s only the fourth course and the band on stage is kinda shit. so you’re standing and pulling on his wrist, excusing yourself from the table of sorcerers that already have an inkling of your imminent activities; you even think you can hear nanami sigh.

“where’re we goin—” gojo’s surprised by your eagerness and the quickness in which you say shut it, navigating the second floor of the hotel and even making the effort to head to the bathroom further from the function room. he grins in recognition.

wordlessly, you’re shoving him into the men’s bathroom because you’re past your senses and you don’t care any more, walking your husband back into a stall. there’s a shocked yelp from the occupied stall beside you but you hardly give a shit, locking the door and crashing your lips against satoru’s.

“so eager,” he whispers against your lips, gasping into your mouth when you squeeze his bulge. you waste no time palming it, kissing down his jaw just for a little tease and making your bluish-black mark on his neck before you’re dropping to your knees and fumbling with his belt. you can’t look up at your husband’s piercing eyes because you know you’d cower in shame at your sex-crazed surge, but you do anyway and you only melt further into the floor.

you’re left wondering why his enemies always don’t freeze in awe when he removes his blindfold, because your cheek feels at home on his pelvis as you continue to massage his erection, a small smile spreading when his hand cradles your cheek.

“go ahead, princess,” he takes over, releasing his cock from the confines of his underwear and you’re scooching closer to him, taking his shaft in your fingers as they slowly stroke him to full hardness. gojo’s good at keeping his moans in, fixated on the baby blue nails that he paid for moving up and down, and he swears he catches a hand that goes in between your legs to rub at your clit.

that is until you’re waste no time messing up your make-up, mouth descending on his cock and gojo lets out a drawn out moan at the warmth of your mouth. it contrasts with the intense coldness of the hotel and resembles your tight cunt so well that he almost cums and you smile at the twitch you feel in your mouth.

“yeesss . . take it down your throat like a slut,” he looks at you, possibly hypnotised by how you start bobbing your head, swirling your tongue on the underside of his cock without rest. you slobber over him, gargling noises and your hand pumps the area you can’t reach and the other only draws messy circles on your clit, filling the bathroom with the obscene noises of your mouth paired with gojo’s whines and whimpers. silently, he beckons you closer and you catch his drift, both hands holding onto his thighs.

taking in a breath, you’re going all the way slowly, gently, and gojo lets you, hands cradling your head and helping you — so much so that he’s hunching over in pure pleasure, bent over and chin touching his chest from how he wanted to keep his eyes on you. your eyes never stop looking up at him, variations of mmhm’s leaving your throat and sending vibrations all throughout his length that he groans at.

“f-fuck— mouth so damn warm,” satoru chokes out, feeling a sense of pride when the corners of your eyes fill up with tears and you gag a little, but you press on because he’s trained you well. he can only focus on the gagging sounds and your nose buried in his pubes, mouth muttering out profanities. “just a little bit— s-shit . . just a lil more, baby.”

it’s not everyday the strongest sorcerer begs, drunk on feeling his tip hit the back of your throat and the dig of your nails in his thighs. your muffled moans only spur him on, another surge of amusement blooming in his chest when he sees the other person hurriedly leaving the stall next to you. gojo’s fingers bury themselves in your hair and pulls, grinning down at your melting mascara and smudged lipstick. you look like the embodiment of filthiness, tongue lolled out and eyes almost rolling back as you try to catch your breath.

“sa— satoru . .” you whine, mouth chasing his cock and manage to catch his tip, suckling and slurping up his pre-cum, “give it t’me.” that gets him grunting and swatting your hands away as he forcibly takes your chin and his cock, slapping it all over your face and you moan at the sheer girth and size of him. you let it rest against your face and your husband wishes he had his camera out to capture this. maybe next time.

“tongue.” and you’re sticking it out, and he slaps his tip along your tongue, too, clear sounds resonating throughout the restroom. outside, he hears the sink stop and with a thumb, drags your jaw to open more.

“let’s give ’im a show, shall we?”

✶ GETO

you see, you’ve always known your man to be an ass man — from noticing the way his eyes follow your figure in a bodycon dress to the special attention he gives it during cuddling, but you’re never truly prepared (you didn’t think he was more obsessed over your ass than you are) for how much he loves it when he’s always got your face buried into the pillows and your lower half propped up.

you’re on god knows what round, drool seeping into the duvet and your juices soaking the sheets and moans leaving your lips. geto’s got you in full nelson, mating press, you can’t even remember any more when the only thing you can think of is his cock easing into you.

“gone so many rounds and still need some dick in her,” he laughs and you burn from embarrassment, and yet you love it, pushing your ass back into him while his grip on your waist tightens, “don’t blame ’er — i love this fuckin’ pussy too.”

you preen at the praise, turning your head to find geto struggling between looking at your face of pleasure and your ass; he lets his desires win, memorising the cute pants and desperate furrow of your eyebrows before he reluctantly pulls his eyes away. but how could he resist — when your butt is pushed up against his pelvis so nicely, the stretch of your dripping cunt in full view and the jiggle of your ass whenever his body meets yours.

his hands leave your waist and spread your cheeks to see how his fat cock leaves and reenters you, full of your mixed cum from the previous sessions that there’s a ring of white that forms at the base of his length with each thrust. it spills all over and down his balls, down your thighs and it’s so sloppy once he starts moving, the wetness of your pussy only encouraging him further.

“pretty little doll takes my cock so well, hm?” suguru hums, fingers squeezing and releasing the fat of your ass. it only anchors him to be rougher and more precise in his thrusts, tip just kissing your cervix that has got you crying out. your head’s foggy but your grip is strong, clutching the sheets below you until your knuckles turn white. in a moment of sensitivity, your hand flies to grab at his wrist.

“sugu—” you gasp, and you meet his eyes, dark with lust while his hair falls all around him. it’s hot, he’s hot and you watch him lick his lips and smile that dizzying smile of his as he changes the pace however he likes to. one moment he’s grinding into your cunt, and the other, he’s snapping his hips roughly.

“yes, darling?” it’s taunting, just like the way he pushes down on your back to accentuate your arch, tugging your hips onto his front.

“s’good, love it, love it—!” you mewl, eyes squeezing shut from the immense pleasure and overstimulation, “feels t’good—”

there’s no answer except a resounding smack that echoes through the room and you gasp again, a choked whine leaving your mouth. you can feel heat forming on your ass and geto’s sick chuckle only makes you open your eyes again to meet him and he’s soothing the place where he spanked.

“yeah? that feel good, huh?” he coos, picking up the pace and ramming into you with the roughness of someone who’s been denied pussy for days and he spanks you again, again and again, the pain so exhilarating. geto cannot keep his eyes off you, watching, hypnotised, the way your ass moves under his hand, “just love this ass so damn much.”

geto catches your smile just as your lips part to whimper out his name and he only props one of his legs up to get deeper in you, a long groan escaping from him when you clench around him.

another smack, another one of your moans, another plea and he laughs breathlessly, cock twitching in you.

“guess i found my girl’s guilty pleasure.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami loved your pleasure. whether it was through oral or just pure sex, the way he knows that he’s making you feel good is enough for him to cum, the satisfaction of doing his job as a partner and the knowledge that you’re the only one to fall apart by his hands. that’s why he never stops until he feels like you’ve had enough, talking you through your many orgasms until you’re spent.

he chuckles lowly into your ear from behind, legs holding down your own as your body convulses from another climax that he’s brought you to. you’re squeezing so much around his fingers that he has trouble removing them, the other hand calming down your heaving stomach.

“you’re relentless, kento . .” you mumble, head slumping onto his shoulder and back, breath hitting the hair that’s at the back. your lover takes the opportunity to mark your neck, alternating between licking and sucking into the skin there. his hands always are so much larger on your body — when they wrap around your middle at events to guide you around, around your arm where you’re cooking at home together — it always sends you into hysterics.

“but you do like it, don’t you, my love?” his tone is soft, sending the hairs along your body to stand, because no matter how soft, the rasp in which he speaks with never fails to thrill you.

“i do, kento, but ’m so sensitive; not sure if you like it,” you hum, removed from your daydream when you feel his cock slap against your thigh. knowing you’re prepped for him, he doesn’t answer but only sighs into your ear when he slips in, your cum providing enough for him to slowly inch himself in.

“of c—” it’s strained, he says it through his teeth, “’course i like it, baby. i love it, even.” nanami groans when he starts to thrust up into you, drunk on the moans and whimpers you feed him. instinctively, your legs try to close but his hands are quicker, holding you open that you need to hold onto him for some sort of grounding, because it was just too. much.

“k-kento,” your voice wavers when you feel him bottom out, watching his hands wander over your sweat-filled body. he hadn’t even fully undressed from his mission duties, still wearing his watch with his trousers pulled down halfway. your pussy was just too good. “so full—!”

“y-yeah . . it is, darling girl doin’ so good f’r me,” nanami’s sounds only send shivers down your body, hands finally coming to rest along your tits. he plays with them, fingers fondling with your nipples and squeezing mindlessly while his hips give you calculated thrusts into your soaking cunt, “doing so good and taking my cock like a good girl. yeah, aren’t ya?”

you nod into his embrace but you wished he’d give some attention to your neglected clit, something that he’s been set on abusing for the past orgasms — and now he doesn’t give it any sort of attention?

“kento— mmfuck—! w-want you to,” your sentence is cut off by your own cries of swears and your boyfriend’s name until he’s turning your head so he can kiss you. devouring your sounds, he speaks against your lips.

“what is it, sweetheart?”

distracted from the kissing, you never notice the way his hands make a beeline for your core, and the first rub of you clit has got you clamping down hard around his length and he grunts.

“was it that?” and you nod again like a dumb slut, hips bucking up into his hold and you can feel his own falter, loving how warm your gummy walls were. it was disgusting; with each move of his pelvis, your juices only spurt everywhere and anywhere, dripping down right onto the sheets.

“m-more . .” you mumble, back arching and body shivering from the intensity of everything, while nanami looks between your eyes and mouth like he’s ingraining the pretty painting of ecstasy of your face into his mind. he makes sure to keep his hazel eyes locked on you, and, rewarded well when his hand comes down upon your clit in a messy slap.

“kento!” your head lols back, muscles pulled taut while your lover only smiles, and he does it again whilst his cock is endlessly pumping into you.

the slaps continue and they’re wet, lewdly wet and it makes you even more flustered and embarrassed that you’re hiding your face into his neck. each slap is like a hit to your head, making you dizzy and giddy and you want nothing more than to cream all over his cock.

they’re harsher — a strength nanami never liked to execute on you but seeing your body convulse like this, seeing your eyes blown wide and jaw slack only makes his spanks against your pussy rougher until you’ve gone silent.

“g’nna cum like this? filthy girl . . simply from my spanks?” he laughs into your hair, knowing to angle his hips just right and that’s got you speaking his name like a mantra, “i’ll definitely need to see my darling girl so ruined again.”

✶ TOJI

“you want me to be . . what?”

contrary to popular belief, toji has always (mostly) been gentle with you in bed. having come from a rough past, he’s only ever treated you like glass, entirely different from the way he was treated as a child. he’s done that to his ex-wife, as well, and now to you, thinking that if he’d ever do anything wrong, you’d leave him.

“i want you to be rougher . . toji,” it’s not something that warrants the use of his first name when a pet name is more than enough, but you both know this stems from something he’s afraid of and you’re only showing your concern through using his given name. “i can take it.”

toji coos at your big girl words, something he adores even before you’ve gotten in a relationship with him and he brings you closer with a toned arm around your waist, “are ya sure?”

and like always he’s making sure you’re okay with everything that he’s done so far, checking up on you, taking breaks in between, so you work your magic. with one hand on his forearm and one more on his face, you’re asking for more, more, more, even as he’s buried deep in you, pussy still struggling to take him because he’s just so big.

“want more, do ya?” he grunts, both hands holding you by the ankle while he thrusts into you with the force of an animal, of many pleas of you wanting more has landed you in this position — cum spilling out of you, sheets filled with your sweat and your clit feeling sore as hell — and you love every second of it. you nod pathetically, eyes welling up with tears from just how good his dick game was and when he laughs, you swear you feel your pussy flutter.

“c’mon, s-shiiit . . watch me fuck this pussy,” he manages to get out, a mix between a groan and grunt that speech is a little distorted, but you prop yourself up anyway, yelping when his hands caress down your legs to your knees and pushes. you end up with your knees to your chest and a front seat view of his cock moving in and out of you, a clear sheen of slick along his shaft from your combined juices.

without warning, he’s spitting onto your clit, a long string of saliva that hangs from his mouth until it finally reaches your core and you moan from obscene action. your hips only wiggle closer to him, chasing that same thrill. “again.”

he lets out a laugh in disbelief, “again? dirty little slut.” and he wraps his fingers around your chin even as you continue to pant and mewl, further emphasising his overpowering strength over yours and drawing your eyes from the hypnotising sight in front of you to meet his dark green ones that are filled with desire.

your mind is overwhelmed with everything, from the fullness of his throbbing cock in you to the feeling of your knees digging into your clavicle. he doesn’t even need to open your mouth for you before he’s gathering another ball of saliva and spitting it into your mouth.

“swallow,” and you do so obediently, chest heaving in anticipation while your neediness only prompts a sly grin out of toji. all the while, his hips are still moving, sending you into oblivion with you mumbling that you want even more and toji’s set out to give you something that he remembers you mentioning on a random day to your girlfriends on call.

with the same hand around your chin, he’s giving your cheek a light slap, heat already blooming from the fat of your cheek from the roughness of his hands. and he halts — he’s afraid you’ll think he hates you but all you do is clench tighter around him while a cockdrunk smile spreads across your face.

“like it— love that, toij . .” you giggle, seemingly confused about why his thrusts stop but he wastes no time resuming his pace when he sees your eyes begging for release, groaning out at the freeness he feels upon listening to you. he loves watching your pussy take him, cum gushing everywhere, but with his new discovery, he’s too fixated one seeing that look on your face again.

so he interrupts your never-ending moans with another slap and that only garners another tightening of your cunt, biting your lip with a small grin.

“like it when i’m rough with ya, huh?” toji laughs, holding your chin and slapping, playing with your lips and slapping and each time you give him what he wants — a broken moan or a call out for him, spurring his hips on until all that’s left of the room is the smell of sex and the lewd slapping of skin. “never knew my angel girl was such a cock slut . . i like her like this too, fuck!”

“always been like this,” you giggle, pulling him in just to tease him as your lips leave hot breaths on his, “just needed the right man to get it out of me, right?”

“that’s right, baby,” toji returns your cheeky smile, before a hand lands another slap on your face and you’re sent over the edge, body trembling under him and pussy spilling all over him. you’re clenching so hard that he can’t move, but like always, your lover never forgets to talk you through it.

“thaat’s it, cream all over my cock, doll,” and he grabs your face lightly again, soothing the area on your cheeks with a small grin.

“at least i know what she likes now . . and i’ll be sure to deliver.”

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partycatty · 5 months

Text

how many donuts can you stack on it

i feel like ive got this down to a science.

warnings: describing fictional characters' peanits in length.

notes: this is what i come back with to post (1 donut = 1 inch)

[ masterlist ]

liu kang > he's got a bioweapon in motion and form, truly. it's so big and thick you might actually die if you try to take it all. 9 donuts. he'll let you do anything to it, silly or not, if it makes you crack a hungry grin like you did when you counted.

bi-han > idk i feel like its not that big, but it's got good thickness.... 4 and a half donuts. finds it stupid, won't agree to putting donuts on it at first, but gives in just so you'll stop. he's embarrassed.

kuai liang > husband length. humble but knows he can get the job done... thinks he could be bigger but you dont complain. 6 donuts. he's too kind and sweet to really have a problem with it.

johnny cage > he thought he'd be able to fit more donuts... not that the current amount is small. 7 and a half donuts. he might try and cram that second half in, but it falls off and splats on the ground.

kenshi takahashi > confident but quiet about it, the donuts don't stop stacking even when you think you couldn't fit another. 9 donuts. expected it, not surprised, but chuckles dryly at your little gasp.

kung lao > tried it on himself before you even got the chance to ask. 7 donuts after trying multiple times at home. lies and says it was nine donuts when he tried it at home...

raiden > nobody expects it from him, since it's not on the forefront of his mind like his bestie... 9 donuts. just thought everyone could fit that many no problem. you had to explain that he's massive.

rain > doesn't talk about it because there isn't really much to say... 5 donuts. (why doesn't he have a personality ever)

tomas vrbada > you just... kept going.... and before you knew it, 8 and a half donuts sat pretty hugging him as he smiles in delight. at first he didn't get your vision, but seeing the shock on your face was more than enough.

baraka > afraid of showing it, tarkat enhanced... all of his features. nearly a baker's dozen, 10 donuts fit with no problem. he growls to himself, adjusting his hips. maybe his condition had a perk.

geras > won't really get why you want donuts on it... but will entertain your ridiculousness. he stands stock still and firm when you put a whopping ten and a half donuts on him. he raises a brow, wondering what the point was.

syzoth > his tongue flicks in curiosity as you try to balance the donuts on both, squeezing a whopping 14 donuts combined! he grins in satisfaction, wondering how many donuts his true form could hold.

havik > it fell off. 0 donut.

shao > shitting your pants when you put the entire dozen onto it, and still have some wiggle room. shao remains unimpressed but silently pleased with his thickness and length as it balances the treats.

shang tsung > it's cute. 5 donuts was his max, but he seems smug about it. he knows you'll take him either way, and the thought makes him smirk.

reiko > 7 and a half donuts stops him short but he just laughs loudly with his hands on his hips. asks if you're impressed, and then offers for you to eat the donuts right off of him.

ermac > ....would ermac have millions of dicks? or just one in his physical manifestation? how many donuts is that...? you'll be there for a while.

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chuluoyi · 9 months

Note

i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #okay i'm just in the mood of very soft gojo #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

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monstersflashlight · 1 month

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Can we get a sequel/prequel to, Honey I’m Home? Like a story on the love story leading up to marriage. Or maybe even the story of how the Minotaur husband proposed? My favorite story you wrote <3

Hi there! I think this was @strawberrypoundtown idea a looooong time ago, and I thought it would be great to mix it with this request because it feels perfect. I don’t know if this fits the love part that much, but well, they are very horny for each other since the beginning. (You can read "Honey, I'm home" here)

Shared shower

Minotaur x fem!reader || rut, cum play, oral sex, overstimulation

You are always the weird one who decides to shower at weird times of the night, everyone thinks it’s because there’s less people in the shared dorm bathroom, but in reality you just enjoy to singing in the shower and prefer not to have an audience for it. Also jerking off. You couldn’t jerk off in the same room as your puritan roommate, and you weren’t ready to have meaningless sex with anybody… Well, maybe with certain minotaur that you’ve seen around the dorm. You would definitively have meaningless sex with him. But that wasn’t going to happen because he had a girlfriend. Or so you’ve heard. It’s not like you two interacted before.

So it’s two in the morning when you roll out of your room in your way to the showers. You being a night owl never paid so much. You enter without thinking it twice, there’s never anybody there at those hours, just you and the silence of the night. But not today. Fuck.

You could hear on shower running and a very heavy breathing, over the stall you can see the tell tale sign of a minotaur, his horns too tall to be hidden by the door. Double fuck. You wanted some alone time to get one off before bed, thinking about certain minotaur that you were sure was in that exact stall. Triple fuck. No singing, no jerking off. Could your luck be any worse?

And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of flesh against flesh, of someone jerking their cock in the shower. Oh fuck. Your pussy gets wet instantly, knowing that not only your minotaur crush is in the shower, but also that he’s jerking off… That makes everything else a thousand times more intense. You walk to the stall next to his, slowly and quietly, trying not to alert him of your presence. You close the door behind you and rest your back against the wall, listening intently, trying to hear some more sounds from him.

And he doesn’t disappoint.

He starts groaning and grunting, like he’s about to come. You take your hand down your body, your towel discarded, and start touching your aching center. You know it’s wrong, so, so wrong… But he sounds so pretty when he whines and you are so into him. You start fingering yourself almost casually, not thinking about it too much, you always had something about voices, and him grunting like that is doing wonders for your pussy.

You are rubbing your pussy with your eyes closed when you hear the stall door being opened and a rough voice saying: “What are you doing?” He looks flushed and sweaty, in the most erotic way possible.

You reach for the towel to cover yourself as you start apologizing profusely. “Oh. Shit. Fuck. Sorry. I’ll leave. Sorry.” You run for the door. But then he whines and you turn around, scared that something happened.

He’s grabbing his huge hard on with his big hand, jerking himself as he looks pained. “What is wrong with you?” You ask, confused by the situation. You know he was about to finish, he sounded like he was about to finish, but his dick looks painfully hard.

He sighs, his hand not stopping as he says: “I’m in rut, and I have no partner to help.” The despair in his voice breaks something inside of you, your hand tightening around the towel as you look intently at his face, trying to avoid looking at the movement of his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” You ask, confused all over again. You swore he had a girlfriend, you saw them kissing a couple days ago.

“She cheated. And now I’m in rut and... And I think I’m gonna die if I don’t come soon.” H sounds pitiful, and the whine he lets out makes your clit scream for attention. You rub your thighs together and try to focus on his words.

But then your stupid brain says: “Oh shit. What can I do? How do I help?” He laughs without any amusement, like what you just asked is a cruel joke.

“Are you gonna let me breed you for hours until I have no cum left?” At his words you blush harder than you’ve ever blushed. Your face must be so red you can’t even feel the blood in the rest of your body. “Go back to your room, I’ll deal,” his tone has so much hurt in it that you feel awful for him. He turns around and you stare at his wide back. You want to find the cheating girlfriend and kick his ass. But his words remind you of a problem you have in common right now… a horny problem.

“Maybe… Maybe I can be your rut partner?” He turns his head to look at you with eyes as big as plates and his nostrils flare, grunting when they catch a sniff of your desire in the air.

“I’m gonna ask this only one time… are you sure?” The fact that he even asks is enough for you to nod and let go of the towel you are holding against your body. He looks at your body like you are his next snack.

He is on you instantly. He pushes your body against the wall and devours your mouth in one fluid motion. You can only moan against his mouth. He controls every second of that kiss as you can only grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself on your tiptoes. He realizes soon enough and grabs you by the waist, urging you to get your legs around his middle. The movement makes your pussy and his huge dick make contact and you break the kiss to throw your head back, completely overwhelmed by the feel of him. He has ridges. Fuck. He feels wonderful, and he’s not even inside of you yet. He’s going to ruin you.

He kisses your neck as you pant, mumbling against your skin: “I need to be inside. I need to fuck you. To rut you. To breed you.” His words are filthy and incoherent, but you don’t care. You want the same as him: to have his dick buried in you.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant.

You are so wet he can get inside of you in one long thrust, taking all the air off your lungs as he starts fucking you like a machine. Your back is scratching against the wall but you don’t care, you are bouncing on minotaur cock and that is worth a thousand scratches at least.

He grunts and bellows as he fucks into you without any caress, without any worry, but it doesn’t matter that he’s only focused on himself because you are so on edge after fingering yourself earlier than not three minutes later you are crying out as he covers your mouth. You come messily around him, adding more juices to your fucking and making him go in and out of you like knife through butter. You are going insane with pleasure, and he just keeps going and going.

When you less expect it, he throws his head back, his horns looking amazing over his head as he comes. And comes. And comes. He fills you up so fucking much you think you are going to explode. You think your body can’t hold it together anymore. But then he pulls out and you hear the rush of come, leaving your body and landing on the floor.

He looks down and moans at the sight of your messy pussy, just to lift your body to his head. He cleans you out with his tongue as you grab his horns for dear life. It’s fast and hard, and you are coming around his rough tongue fast and hard. Your brain is fuzzy with everything that just happened. So many emotions and so many sensations, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s impaled in you once again. His dick hitting every part of you as he fucks into you again.

And again.

He goes for what feels like hours, probably are. He fucks you full of come, and then cleans you out with his tongue just to start again. At one point you can’t even hold your legs around his waist, but he doesn’t care. He has enough strength to hold you against the wall as he keeps fucking your pussy. It’s too much, it’s too good… and he keeps going.

“We need to move,” he says between thrust in what feels like the twentieth round.

“What?” You ask, your brain completely out of reality.

He keeps thrusting into you, but his eyes look less crazy and wild than before, he seems calmer, his thrusts more controlled. “People are going to wake up soon and we can’t be here when they do,” he explains. You only understand about half of that.

“Okay…. Are we… Are we done?” You ask, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth, and his dick still buried inside of you making your brain go extra slow.

“No. I- I still need more. We can… We can go to my room?” He says it like a question and you can only nod as your head falls over his chest. He hugs you tightly as he takes some big towels and throws them around your body until you are decent enough to walk to his room.

You don’t know how many times you fuck, how many orgasms he coaches off you, but by the time he falls asleep, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

When you wake up, he fetched you some breakfast and helps you shower tenderly, your legs giving up under you every few seconds as he chuckles every time. When he asks you out after that, you can only say yes.

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ebodebo · 2 months

Text

Nuts And Bolts

—mechanic!ghost with psychologist!reader…MDNI

Stepping out of your office and onto the town's bustling streets, you admire the Christmas decorations the city has set up. But, it does nothing to settle your soured mood.

Simon and you had gotten into an argument the previous night, and you haven’t heard or seen him since. You assumed he went to his car garage to let off some steam, but, as his wife, why the hell were you left to wonder about your husband’s whereabouts?

To set the scene, it had been an ordinary night. You had gotten off work before Simon, so you thought you would prepare a nice dinner with a glass of red wine.

Simon swings open the door as you season some vegetables, dawning an unpleasant expression. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, setting your tongs down to walk over to him. He simply shakes his head and heads straight for your shared bedroom.

You tilt your head and head straight towards the bedroom after him, unable to let him writhe in his agony alone.

“Simon.” You stand in the doorway, observing him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, making you worry.

You make your way to him and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You want to talk about what you’re feeling?” You insist, making him finally look at you.

“Stop it.” He firmly states. Your eyes widen at his tone.

“What?” You ask, keeping your tone soft to avoid antagonizing him.

“You’re tryin’ to do that shit again.” He scowls, standing up to walk back through the bedroom door. You quickly follow suit as he continues.

“Trynna’ pick my brain.” He walks over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of whiskey.

“Like I’m a fuckin’ patient.”

“No. I—” You intently pause, thinking. “Okay, you seem upset, stressed even.” You watch him grab a glass and pour some whiskey into it.

“Alcohol isn’t a good way to cope.” You say, adopting your signature calm voice you use on your patients.

He laughs dryly, even though the burning amber liquid coated his throat.

“And, there you go again.” He sighed, looking up at you.

“I’m trying to help you, Simon.” You insist, reaching out to gently grab his forearm, though he quickly retracts from your touch.

He lets out another dry chuckle before setting down his glass and walking to the coat rack to grab his coat. You attempt to question his whereabouts, but he fills in the space first.

“I don’t need a shrink. I need my wife.”

And, with that, he left. Leaving you to stare helplessly at the front door, not knowing where you went wrong and not knowing where to go from there.

You recounted yesterday’s events in your mind all day today, even during patient sessions. You always left your personal matters at the door, but this was different because you were genuinely dumbfounded.

Even walking out of work, you still thought about the whole ordeal. However, your thoughts were absolved when you saw the familiar mechanic shop sign out of the corner of your eye. They would be closed about now, but, knowing Simon, he would still be there.

You walk into the garage part to see a body under a truck, working on it. You delicately press the little bell, you insisted he get, on the desk closest to the doors.

“We’re closed.” God, it had only been a day, but you missed his voice.

“Even for me?” You question, feeling a little shy. He paused his movements before scooting himself out from under the truck. Your eyes shamelessly glazed over his body, looking at what he was wearing: an old white shirt covered in grease and gray sweatpants with oil marks.

“No, not for you.” He stated, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he grabbed an old rag to wipe his hands clean.

You gave him a half-smile. “Been working overtime, I see?” You try to keep your tone playful, but judging by how he slightly frowns, you can tell your voice has defiled you.

“We should talk.” He stated, with almost a cringe on his face. You nod and sit on a chair adjacent to him as he leans on the hood of the truck he was working on.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs out, clearly disappointed in himself. “Was havin’ a shitty day and brought it onto you.” You look up at him and give him a frown.

“I’m sorry, too.” He snaps his eyes to yours, a puzzled expression taking over his face.

“For what?” You gently tug on your bottom lip before answering.

“For treating you like a patient and not my husband. It’s not fair to you.” You sigh, avoiding his gaze.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He lightly demands. You bring your head up and bring your eyes to lock with his.

“This isn’t your fault. I was bein’ a dick.” He walks over to you and reaches for your hand, which you grasp. He guides you from the chair so you’re standing before him, looking up at him.

“Are you gonna come home?” You softly question as he stares into your eyes, mentally kicking himself for making them look so sullen.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” He says, bringing his hand up to sweep a stray piece of your hair away from your face, leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You could feel your skin sizzle from only a slight touch, internally sighing as he pulled away to speak.

“Should get goin’ then.” He says, walking over to the truck's hood and gently slamming it shut. “Johnny’s gonna come check the exhaust.”

“When’s he coming?” You absentmindedly ask as you watch Simon slip off his white shirt, observing his toned body.

“Eh, half an hour.” He casually says, turning away from you to walk over to the cabinet to grab a clean white shirt.

“So, we’re alone?” You question, bringing your hands up to untie the front of your blouse.

“Uh, huh.” He agrees, still rummaging through the cabinets, back towards you. You hum a sign of approval as you open your blouse, then move to unclip your bra, your breasts spilling out as soon as you do.

He finally finds a clean shirt and turns toward you, eyes widening as he sees you, chest bare. Your pulse quickens as he stares, unsure of his thoughts. When he doesn’t speak for a moment, you start to lose the confidence you had garnered.

“Is it too much?” You shyly ask, starting to feel insecure. He can’t speak; his mouth has gone dry at the sight of you. He drops the shirt in his hand and walks over to you, bringing his hand up to trace the curve of your breast.

“Fuck.” He manages to get out as your breathing becomes more ragged and your pupils dilate at the sensation.

“It’s never too much.” He answers your earlier question, cupping the bottom of your breast, making you sigh. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he caresses your breast.

He leans to press a hot kiss onto your lips as he rolls your nipple between his pointer and thumb, making you moan into his mouth. He roughly grips the back of your thighs and picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he hauls you over to the hood of the truck.

He hikes up your skirt and hurriedly connects his lips back to yours before kissing down your neck, gently sucking on the tender skin, making you whine. He sinks to his knees in front of you, bringing one hand up to grab ahold of your calf, raising it slightly so he can slip the heel off your foot.

Once he gets one heel off, his other hand drifts to your other foot, slipping the heel off as he plants kisses up your ankle, and calf, stopping at your mid-thigh before nipping at the pantyhose encasing your cunt with his teeth, making a tiny hole. He slightly raises his hands and uses his pointers to split the pantyhose further.

“Hey! Those were Falke.” You urge, referring to the German-made, almost three-hundred dollar silk tights he had soiled.

“I’ll buy you more.” He amends, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, slipping them down simultaneously. His cock immediately shot up, so visibly hard. You brought your hands to gently pump him up and down as his hands went to massage your tender breasts.

He groans at the contact, gripping your breast a little firmer. You moan at that contact, pulling his cock a little firmer.

“You’re killin’ me, baby.” He chokes out, gripping the back of your neck as he roughly kisses your lips. With your hands still on his cock, you gently pull him closer by it, making him hiss as you guide it to your slit.

“I need you in me.” You whine as he brings his hand to twirl in your hair. In one swift motion, he thrusts into you. You both groan at the swift contact, even throwing your heads back.

His movements continue; over and over again, he thrusts into you, making you dig your nails into his skin, desperate for stability. You knew you wouldn't last long and could tell Simon wouldn't either. It has been only been a God-damned day, and you ached for him. Nothing but him would suffice your craving.

“So, fuckin’ good, baby. So, fuckin’ good.” He gruffly repeated, making you clamp around him tighter until you felt that familiar all-consuming euphoria you had so ached for.

As you reached your peak, Simon followed suit, coming with your name on the tip of his tongue. You were both panting, even after both of your orgasms subsided. You looked up at him as he tied your blouse back so your breasts were concealed, bra be damned.

“You did good.” You praised as he reached down to pick up your abandoned skirt from the floor.

“Yeah?” He lightly laughed out, finding humor in your statement.

“Yeah.” You nod as he grips your waist and pulls you off the hood of the car.

“Can you walk?” He questions, his hands still on your waist to help steady you as he carefully slips on your skirt.

“No. Might need you to carry me.” You sigh as you bring your hand up to fake an anguished expression.

“Uh, huh.” He rolls his eyes, though they contain no actual annoyance, as he goes to pick you up bridal style.

“Let’s get you home, Drama.”

a/n: this is the pipeline i’m here for

ur honor i’m just a girl

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

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veritasangel · 2 months

Text

Keep me close

ft. Simon Riley pt.2 here

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, cheating? not really (reader is price's wife but it's agreed upon)

↣ John doesn't mind sharing you with one of his best...probably gonna do a part 2 to this or maybe a series?? (@shkretart is the artist for the simon and price art)

wc: 4.3k

Simon never enjoyed breaks. His body did, sure, but not his mind. Too much time to think about everything, the pain, the bloodshed he’s drowning in. Johnny would go home to see family, Price would head home to his wife and even Gaz had a partner to return to.

They’d all discreetly offered for Simon to join, but he wasn’t one for pity so it always ended with a mumbled, “God no, I’m perfectly fine with my own company, thanks.”

And he thought he was, had convinced himself that was true, but it wasn’t and subconsciously he knew that too. Every night ended with one too many drinks and an almost drunken call to one of the boys, asking one of them to take him in.

It was a few weekends later before he eventually gathered the courage to call Price.

The phone rang once, twice...fuck, maybe he should hang up.

“Hello?”

The voice not being Price's caught him off guard momentarily, of course his wife is the one to pick it up.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Simon?”

“Hi, I- Sorry to bother you Mrs Price...Is John there?" he says a little apprehensively.

“Always so formal.” you joke. “I’ll go get him.”

You make your way through the house, before approaching John in the kitchen and mouthing

'It’s Simon…sounds sad.' you frown a little as you hand the phone to your husband.

“Simon? Is everything alright?” John says as he finishes up what he'd been doing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, jus’ checking in….” he trails off, “You uh, you see the football last night?”

“Yeah, was shit.” John says, ignoring the look you're giving him.

“Yeah….”

You glare at Price to say something more substantial.

He clears his throat, “What did you really wanna talk about?”

A beat of silence.

“...I was maybe wondering if that spare bedroom offer was still available.”

“ ‘Course it is, Si. I’m offended you even have to ask.” Price sighs, shaking his head before adding, “You want a roast tonight?”

Simon lets out a small genuine laugh, “I’ll never say no to your wife’s cooking.”

“Then come over. How long you planning on staying?”

“However, long you’ll have me.” Simon mumbles.

“In that case, may as well pack a suitcase and pick a colour swatch.” Price says, half joking.

You know he’d honestly let Simon move in if he wanted to, he was basically family and even you adored him, dark humour and stoic mask included.

As expected by Simon, the next few days flew by, as opposed to when he was alone and just trying to get by.

Waking up every morning to a nice breakfast and good company did a lot of good for him. Every now and then he had to remind himself that you were a taken woman.

“Simon!” you beam happily, “I see you’re back from your run.” you smile softly, “I went to the market earlier today so there’s some fresh fruit in the kitchen.”

“Ah, thanks doll, you’re too sweet.” Simon smiles, eyes flittering across the hall before lingering a little too long on your sundress.

God, maybe Soap was right, I do need a partner. Is this how life would be?

He shut his thoughts off, mumbling pleasantries before heading upstairs for a shower.

He also had to control his thoughts when John came up to him one afternoon stating that he had to handle something with family so he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Christ, he trusted him enough to leave him alone with his wife, the woman he keeps wrongfully fantasising about. Oh how he felt like an awful person.

But he refrained, kept reminding himself that he was a trained soldier. He wouldn’t give into such desires, let alone betray someone he calls family.

And so the rest of the day continued as normal, as did dinner.

Simon retired to the living room for the rest of the night, watching TV. Some time later you joined him, sitting maybe a little closer than usual but he brushed it off, only for you to then extend your legs onto his lap and he had to inhale a sharp breath to keep his cool.

His heart raced, and his hand twitched, eyes darting to the smooth skin of your legs resting way too close to his groin. “You alright there, love?” he asks.

“Mhm.” you nod and he can't tell if it's his imagination that he can see his own desire reflected in your eyes.

He couldn't hide the need in his own eyes either. They flickered with want, need. Simon shifted ever so slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, though, his cock had already hardened, the fabric of his pants hardly concealing it.

With great effort, he managed to restrain himself. He had to, after all, he was Price's friend and you were his wife.

“Have you checked your phone this evening?” you ask tenderly as you tilt your head at him.

“No...Why?” He asks curiously, hands already reaching for his phone, seeing a few messages from Price.

2 messages - Cap'n Figured you might need to let loose a little, maybe have someone take care of you for once....if you catch my drift. Oh but for the love of everything, please wrap it!! I don't think I'd ever live down the embarrassment if you got my missus pregnant before I did.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the message.

Smirking, he turned to look at you with a newfound light in his eyes. 'So that's how it was, huh?' Simon thought, his mind whirling. He knew Price well enough to know he'd planned this with you and he couldn't deny that he felt a surge of lust as a result.

"Well, well," Simon uttered. "Looks like Price gave us his blessing." his hand finally reaching out and brushing against your leg, before resting it there, chuckling at the goosebumps that ghosted your skin.

“So you guys planned this, huh? Don’t know whether to feel awkward or take the opportunity with no regrets?” He jokes, chuckling a little.

“It’s not a pity thing, jus’ wanna take care of you too.” you say softly as your eyes meet his.

“Surprised the fucker didn’t want to watch.”

“Oh he did.” you laugh softly, “He just didn’t know how into it you’d be.”

“...Maybe we’ll have to see for next time.” he winks.

"Next time? Getting a bit carried away, aren't we?" you quip.

Simon's palm grazed over your knee, tracing upwards as he leaned closer to you, the air between the two of you thickening with desire. "How do you plan on taking care of me, hmm?" He questioned, his voice low and seductive.

You grinned as you looked at him, your hand sliding up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch. "Well, I have an idea or two," you tilted your head at him, "but I need to know if you're game."

Your finger trailed along the outline of his erection, feeling the throbbing heat underneath the fabric, causing Simon to let out a sharp breath.

After getting the green light from Price, it was as though his brain had shut down, just allowing him to indulge in the moment. "I'm game," he answered, his voice husky, dripping with want. His hand moved on top of yours, guiding it towards his bulge.

"Good," you whispered, moving in as your lips hovered above his. He leaned in and you moved back slightly, just enough so that your lips wouldn't touch.

He chuckles darkly before grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep your gaze on him, "I thought you said you wanted to take care of me, hun." he says, "Don't be a tease." he warns

Simon's resolve wavered for a moment as your lips hung tantalisingly close to his. The game was almost too much to bear. But he wanted you badly, and that want became a demand. "Take care of me," he repeated, his voice gentler this time, pleading almost.

His heart raced as he felt your soft lips against his. The kiss was gentle and tender. As your tongue sought entry, he opened his mouth to allow it in, his own tongue dancing with yours, yielding to your lead.

His breath hitched as you nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation went straight to his cock, making him shuffle in his seat. A low moan escaped from his lips as he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer.

The feeling of your palm against his erection through his clothing was almost too much to bear. Simon's grip on you tightened, and he groaned into the kiss. He wanted you, his cock throbbed desperately with need.

It wasn't long before Simon found himself getting carried away. His hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer, grinding his hard-on against your hand, eager for anything that could bring him closer to release.

Simon's body responded to every touch, a soft hiss escaping his throat as your tongue trailed along his jaw. His grip on you turned possessive as you moved down to kiss his neck. He gasped, and his cock twitched, desperate for your attention.

Simon's mind was a blur of lust, and all he could think of was you, your touch. He needed more, and he knew he'd crave you even more once this night was over. Price might just have to share you more often.

His head fell back, giving you full access to his now sensitive flesh, begging for more. His cock was aching so badly and he could feel the precum coating it. He felt as though he was losing control and he wanted nothing more than to feel you enveloping him.

You pull back for a moment as you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

His eyes flickered open, catching sight of your intent before he closed them again, basking in the feeling. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the waistband of his sweatpants being tugged down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It was thicker than John’s and the poor tip just so looked so worked up.

His breath hitched as he felt your warm, soft hand envelop his shaft. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours for a brief moment before closing once more. "God, thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“I’m not God.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Simon's lips. "Fuck off." He replied, his face flushed. As you continued to stroke him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, fully submitting to your touch.

You smirk as you lean down so you're eye level with his cock, your hand still running up his shaft, brushing the pre over the tip as you lightly blew on it.

A soft moan escaped Simon's lips as you blew on his engorged tip, sending chills coursing through him. His breath hitched, his grip on his chair tightening as his knuckles turned white. "Fuck," he cursed, his head falling back once more.

He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like to be yours, if only for a moment.

"Please...fuck, please." Simon pleads.

Your attentions had Simon close to begging, and he was hardly the kind of man to do so. Yet, here he was, desperate for your touch, needing you to take him over the edge. His hips bucked subtly, silently asking for more, demanding that you give him what he craved.

His mind raced, thinking about all the ways you could pleasure him. He wanted it all, and he needed it now. Simon liked to believe he was always in control, but right now he wasn’t so sure.

You laugh a little before kissing along his shaft, relishing in the sight of a prominent vein twitching on the underside of his cock.

Simon shivered under your touch, feeling the heat of your lips against his sensitive skin. He bit his lip, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat.

This was different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt vulnerable to you, but he didn’t quite mind.

He had to bite his hand to stop him from shooting his cum all over your face when you'd barely even touched him. Fuck it was embarrassing, a grown man acting like a virgin over a few gentle kisses to his cock.

“Please, just– Just let me have you-”

His mind painted vivid pictures of the two of you entangled and sweaty. He wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave him. “Need to fuck you, I can’t fucking last right now.” he babbled.

Simon tried to keep his composure, but the fire inside him raged, threatening to consume him. "I need to be inside you," he panted, his body quivering. "Pleasepleaseplease... I can't- fuck, last like this."

He wasn't a man to beg, especially not for something like this, but he was helpless. Your touch had left him feeling desperate.

You looked at him as you licked along his shaft before finally taking him into your mouth. Simon's eyes widened as you took him into your mouth. His entire world focused on the incredible sensation. His entire body tensed up as your mouth worked him over.

"Fuck..." he moaned, a sheen of sweat across his face, cheeks flushed. His hips bucking slightly, yearning for more. It was almost hard to forget the man was a hardened soldier.

Each bob of your head brought him closer to his release. His moans grew louder, his movements becoming more shaky. He felt needy, desperate, even.

“Can’t cum before I’ve fucked you...” he groans. "...Need to feel you around me," Simon stammered, his voice strained. The need to feel your warmth envelop him was an intense desire. He needed to be completely consumed by you.

Yet, as you continued to focus on his cock, it seemed he was fighting a losing battle. Every trail of your tongue, your lips, your breath, brought him closer to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to quieten himself.

His body tensed as he struggled to maintain control, his restraint quickly depleting. His mind raced as he tried to steady himself and appreciate the moment as best he could.

Simon was fully aware of what was happening, but it was like his body was betraying him, surrendering to the pleasure your mouth provided. His grip on the sofa tightened once again and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The room seemed to fade away, all that existed was the direct connection between his aching cock and your skilled mouth. He was spiralling towards an inevitable conclusion.

Simon's eyes clenched tight, his body tensing as he felt the familiar build-up within him. "God-" he groaned, the sound strained and desperate. He knew he was nearing his limit, the end of his restraint.

A wave of pleasure hit him that he was powerless to resist. With a loud grunt, he let go, his cock twitching as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your waiting mouth.

Pulling away, you smiled as you looked up at him. A shudder ran through Simon's body as he came, groaning in pleasure as his hand intertwined with your free one. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled weakly, a look of gratitude and appreciation in his lidded eyes.

You had given him a pleasure he never imagined possible, and he would cherish this moment.

Simon's eyes widened at the sensation of your hand returning to work on his sensitive cock. The aftershocks of his orgasm still lingered, leaving him feeling raw and needy.

He groaned, hand moving to grip your wrist as if you were the only t thing able to keep him grounded. He mumbled something incoherent, not even sure what he wanted to say with his mind racing.

Your touch was addictive, and he needed more.

“You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” you tease

Simon's breath hitched at your question, his eyes locking with yours. "God, yes." He confessed, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable.

A slow grin spread across his lips as his cock began to harden again. He stood up, pulling you to stand with him as his lips crashed against yours.

He was too caught up to fully undress himself or you for that matter. The kiss deepened and intensified as he pressed you up against the wall, the same wall adorned with photos of you and your husband. Your hands tangled in his hair as his free hand reached up your dress, tugging your underwear down until they pooled at your ankles. The urgency with which he did this was testament to how much he needed you.

You hand fumbled with the unit beside the two of you as you kissed. your hand roaming around the draw before reaching a condom and passing it to Simon who held onto it with one hand.

You deepened the kiss, the two of you practically breathing one another in as his fingers slid between your legs, probing your entrance, his touch both urgent and gentle. When he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, the sound was loud enough to have him grinning into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, "You’re soaked doll," he breathed, his fingers coated in your wetness. He was aching to fill you, to take you.

"Well, I guess you don’t even need prepping," he drawled as his other hand wandered your body lovingly, despite the heat of the moment. He turned you around, your front against the wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Tell me you want it.” he said, the words a mixture of question and plea.

"I want this," you confirmed, your voice breathy. The vulnerability in your tone only served to heighten Simon's arousal.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. Once fully sheathed, he held you close, his hands roaming your back before coming to rest on your hips.

His eyes closed, a low groan escaping him, "You feel amazing," he muttered as he rested his head on the back of your neck, pausing for a moment to gather himself.

Then slowly he began to move, thrusting in and out of you, setting a rhythm that built with each push. The intensity of the moment drove him wild.

The way you fit around him, the way your walls gripped his cock, it was heaven, and he wanted more. Your moans spurred him on and in this moment everything faded away for Simon. All that existed was the two of you, lost in each other.

Simon's breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming wilder, each one an attempt to bury himself deeper within you, to become one with you. The ferocity of his movements belied the tenderness with which he held you, as if you were a precious treasure.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me.” he groans, “Price’ll have to watch I don’t steal you for myself.”

He chuckles as you clench around him, "You like that thought, hm?" he teases, hand taking both of your wrists in his as he held them behind your back, forcing you to rely on your tiptoes to keep you up against the wall.

His words were laced with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.He wanted to show you the affection and love you deserved, wanted to take care of you and you weren't even his. Simultaneously, he needed you to satisfy the fire within him, the passionate beast that roared to life in your presence.

In that heated embrace, Simon forgot who he was, drowning in the sheer pleasure of being with you. His thoughts blurred, and all that remained was the hunger for you.

Between thrusts, Simon teased, "He's a lucky bastard having you, ain't he? In your pretty little dresses, making his breakfast, cleaning his clothes. Such a good girl for him."

It was a mix of jealousy and admiration. He wanted to claim you for himself, to have you wait on him like that. But he was more than happy to indulge in however much or little you or John allowed him.

As his pace increased, each thrust became more fervent than the last. His thoughts were a jumble of desire. In this moment, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and Simon clung to this dream, hoping it would last.

He was lost in the rhythm, in the way you fit around him, in the way you responded to his every touch, in every soft sound that escaped you. There was no going back, no escape, as Simon dove headfirst into the abyss of pleasure that was you.

"He's putting a lot of faith in this condom, hell he's trusting me not to fill you up." Simon whispered in your ear, the words laden with desire. He would never actually commit to that fantasy, but he could dream.

If anything, it fuelled the fire, the knowledge that Price was trusting him to be this intimate with you. His thrusts grew more furious, each one driving him closer.

The moment was electric, and Simon found himself living for each sensation. He was chasing the edge, the precipice where pleasure surrendered to ecstasy. His hips moved with abandon, every muscle tensed, as he sought the ultimate release.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his words filled with intent. He wanted to etch this memory in your mind, one that would leave you longing for more.

He was determined to leave an enduring mark on your soul. It was a need that had taken hold of him, and there was no going back now.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Simon could feel the pressure building within him. His thrusts grew wilder, more desperate, as he sought the release that awaited. He could sense it, feel it, just beyond his grasp.

His movements became erratic, his body trembling underneath the weight of unrelenting pleasure. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

His grip on you tightened, holding you as he rode the wave of impending release. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He was at the brink of release, a long awaited one that wasn’t a result of his own hand for once. The anticipation and hunger, all leading up to this moment.

The world around you two dissolved. It was just the two of you, caught in a symphony of lust and pleasure. Their hearts raced in unison, the rhythm of your bodies synchronised. There were no inhibitions, no boundaries, only the ever-mounting tide of ecstasy.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as the climax built. One final thrust sent him over the edge, and he released, his cum filling the condom. His free hand worked over your sensitive clit, willing you to follow behind as you cried his name, gushing around his cock.

The release was explosive, the tension that had been building between you both, finally released. He leaned in, resting against you as he lowered your wrists, arms encircling your front as he clung to you. It was a moment neither would forget, one he would think about for a long time.

The aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, his body still connected to yours. He held you close, as if he were afraid to let go.

"That was... something else," Simon managed to mumble, the words breaking through the haze of post-orgasmic euphoria that washed over him. A satisfied grin spread across his face, the look in his eyes a mix of contentment and pride.

He had claimed you in a way he never thought he could, and it was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to pull out, but his hands lingered on you, as if drawn to the warmth of your body.

Despite the quick encounter, Simon knew he had found something that he wanted to explore further. For now, however, he was content to simply bask in the afterglow. He exhaled a deep breath as he pulled out from you.

You took a deep breath, the action drawing Simon's gaze. As you turned around, he watched you lean against the wall, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Simon's heartbeat slowed, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He stared at you, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. This encounter had changed something between you, there was no doubt about it.

"He's a lucky man." he says resting his forehead on yours.

You let out a small laugh as you brush some hair out of Simon's face.

"And I'm lucky to be married to him."

Simon smiles as he reaches down, pulling your panties back up, along with his sweatpants."I'll have to call him in a bit to say my thanks." he quips, "Buttt, he's not gonna be back until late tomorrow and I wanna' experience fully what it'd be like to be yours." He smirks down at you, his lips hovering dangerously above yours, "You know, if you're game."

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

#simon ghost riley #john price #simon riley x reader #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #cod drabble #cod smut #cod fluff #smut

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